Treasure Me (Alpha Four, Book 1)

by Mia Dymond

  “Good girl.” His eyes took their normal oval shape. “Was the painting damaged?”

  “Only the protective paper on the back. The canvas was unharmed.”

  “Sophie.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Do you suppose he was after the painting?”

  “My father asked the same question but yes, I believe he intended to steal the painting.”

  “Well, at least you’re safe and sound.”

  “I’ll admit, it did spook me. From now on, I want to arrange a courier to transport the art. They’re bonded and insured.”

  “I agree but what about Mr. Pennington’s painting?” Robert glanced at his watch. “It’s probably waiting on you now.”

  She released a hard sigh. “I’ll have to deliver it myself. Just check the manifest from here on out and start making phone calls.”

  “Will do.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Just be careful.”

  “Thanks Robert.” She stood and headed for the door. “I’ll let you know when I’m at the appraiser’s office.”

  Sophie left the studio and headed toward Rebel’s SUV, halfway tempted to walk passed just to test the water. He stood with his back against the passenger door, dark sunglasses still covering his eyes, arms folded across that magnificent broad chest – relaxed and incredibly sexy. She gave a mental snort. An attempt at escape would be ludicrous. Rebel would simply follow her with strides two times hers, scoop her up, and then toss her inside the vehicle with very little effort. And then, he’d most likely hogtie her to the seat. It just wasn’t worth the humiliation. He was just too big and … bad.

  With her feet heavy, she approached the car and stopped in front of him.

  He unfolded his arms, looked at his watch, and then gave her a grin that made her want to strip him naked. “Right on time.”

  “Only because I have another appointment.”

  He opened the door and offered her a hand. “Where to?”

  “Beaumont’s Creations,” she said as she slid her hand into his and climbed into the passenger seat. “I need to arrange a purchase.”

  He closed her door and seconds later climbed into the driver’s seat. “You’re going to purchase another painting?”

  “Not this time. I’m simply going to sign for the delivery to my client. Mr. Pennington has already arranged for a courier to deliver it to an appraiser and then to his home.”

  She didn’t miss the long sigh that left his lips as he pulled away from the curb. “So you won’t need an escort this time.”

  “Disappointed?”

  “No.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “You’re an adrenaline junkie. You wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to go all Tarzan on the bad guy if you even thought you might have the chance.”

  A broad smile separated his lips and butterflies danced in her stomach. His smile just might actually be her Achilles heel. “You’re annoyingly observant.”

  “I annoy you?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Turn right,” she told him. “I was teasing.”

  A few seconds of silence passed until he steered into the parking lot next to Beaumont’s and shifted the vehicle into park. “You can come inside if you like.”

  He raised both eyebrows over his sunglasses. “Shell-shocked?”

  “No, I just thought you might want to come inside.”

  Although she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew he stared directly at her for approximately one full second. She stared right back.

  “Wait there,” he said finally.

  Before she could respond to yet again another order, he left the truck and then opened the passenger door.

  “Blend in,” she told him as they entered the gallery.

  His soft chuckle caused shivers across her thighs as he walked beside her and then stood with her as she greeted the owner. One very flowing, feminine signature later, they were headed back outside and she was once again seated beside him.

  “Seatbelt,” he told her as he buckled his own restraint.

  As soon as she complied, he started the engine and backed out of the lot.

  “Why was that so easy?”

  “We got lucky.”

  “How so?”

  “My buyer, George Pennington, made all the arrangements himself.”

  “How is that different from other purchases?”

  “Normally I take the paintings back to my studio, examine them for damage or repair, and then deliver them to the appraiser.”

  He nodded, as if processing her explanation. “So where to now?”

  “Rebel, my father did not hire you to be my chauffer.”

  “No,” he agreed, “but since you attempted to shake me, I think it’s in my best interest to keep you close.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re paranoid. I’ve got work to do at the office, just drop me off there.”

  “No more purchases today?”

  “No. I’ve asked Robert to arrange couriers for the rest of them.”

  “You’ll call me if you need to go anywhere else, right?”

  “Yes.”

  He parked at the curb in front of Treasure Me, and then turned to face her. “Don’t even think about ditching me again, Sophie, or else you won’t like the consequences.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  His smile darn near made her weep. “That’s not a threat, sweetheart, that’s a promise.”

  Rebel watched several different emotions cross Sophie’s beautiful face before she very politely thanked him and then left the vehicle. Unless he was mistaken, thank you had not been the only words she would’ve liked to say. He grinned. She was full of fire, alright and he was just the man to fan the flames.

  He pulled into the parking lot of the Alpha Four offices and parked next to Thunder’s black extended cab pick-up, a little leery about this meeting. Although he didn’t have much to report, he had a feeling the Captain may already know more than he wanted him to.

  Rebel rubbed a hand across his brow as he sauntered into the front door, down the hallway, and then finally into the briefing room and attempted to portray a picture of confidence. What he thought would be a nice and easy shadow mission had turned out to be something darn near mortal combat. It had been a helluva day but he had no intention of letting his teammates know. Unfortunately, Thunder saw right through his façade.

  “You’re alive. That’s a positive. You need to debrief?”

  “I have a feeling you left out a few things,” he said as he folded himself into an empty chair at the long table.

  Thunder shrugged. “Female, twenty-five years old, only daughter of Senator Edward Graystone. Majored in art history from Yale University and owns Treasure Me, an art studio on first and Elm. Record is clean as a whistle.”

  “You forgot major babe,” Chaos added. “I’d say 36-24-32 if I were guessing.”

  Rebel frowned. “Don’t guess.”

  “We get it,” Ace drawled. “She’s off limits.”

  “For now,” he mumbled.

  “Don’t go looking for trouble,” Thunder warned.

  “Too late, Captain. I’ve already found it.”

  Chaos leaned back in his chair and buckled his hands behind his head. “What about her social circles?”

  “Kate Abbott, Carley Kensworth, and Olivia Blackwell are her closest friends.” Thunder didn’t blink an eye as he rattled off information. The man had the memory of an elephant. “All from money. They’ve known each other since childhood.”

  “We need to question them.” Chaos grinned. “Maybe they can shed some light on a suspect.”

  “Start with Kate Abbott. Sophie spends the most time with her.”

  “Me?”

  Thunder shook his head in the affirmative. “She owns a spa on Lincoln.”

  “A spa?”

  “You hard of hearing? Yes, a spa.” The captain glanced down at a piece of paper. “Relax and Renu.”
>
  Rebel stuck his tongue in his cheek. “Like you need an excuse to get naked with a woman.”

  “Naked is one thing, but a spa is a whole different monster.”

  “Get over it.” Thunder simply shrugged. “I’ll expect a report by the morning. And watch yourself, her father is federal judge William Abbott.”

  Rebel raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. Another political connection. “What about the others?”

  “Carley Kensworth is the Kensworth Investments heir. Apparently she’s a party planner and owns Let’s Party. She has quite an elite client list.”

  Ace snickered. “A party girl, huh?”

  “It gets better. Olivia Blackwell is the heir to the Melbourne Palm Resort Empire. She owns Forever Yours.”

  Rebel frowned. “Isn’t that a dating agency?”

  “Yep.” Thunder nodded. “To the elite. Like Kensworth, her clients are extremely impressive.”

  “Not your usual socialites.”

  “Affirmative.”

  Ace rubbed his chin. “What’s your take, Rebel? You spent the day with her.”

  “Today’s mission was uneventful. I watched the house this morning but didn’t see anything unusual. I followed her to make a purchase without event.”

  “You watched the house?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t think we were on detail.”

  “We’re not.”

  “Did she make you?”

  He nodded. “She attempted to shake me. Didn’t succeed.”

  Ace whistled low under his breath. “Aw, hell. You need back-up?”

  “I’ve got it under control. We came to an understanding – she doesn’t go anywhere without me or else.”

  Thunder folded his arms across his chest. “You told her or else?”

  “Yes.”

  The Captain didn’t answer, just continued to stare. In fact, the other two men were amazingly silent.

  “What?”

  Chaos shook his head. “Your funeral, man.”

  “I am not concerned in the least.” He grinned. “She understands it’s in her best interest.”

  Thunder unfolded his arms. “What’s your plan?”

  “I’ll tail her for the next few days.”

  “You think she’ll cooperate?”

  “No,” he admitted without shame, “but I’m prepared.”

  Thunder glanced at Ace. “Wire her car with a transmitter just in case she shakes him.”

  Rebel frowned. “I said she was unsuccessful.”

  “Precautionary measures. Ace and I will dig for more Intel. We’ll brief again in twenty-four hours.”

  Rebel followed Chaos back to the front door and then exited behind him.

  “I guess I’m headed to the spa.”

  Rebel smirked at his friend’s tone, one that told him that Chaos just might upchuck. “Lucky you.”

  “Wanna play wingman?”

  “Hell, no. I’ve got a mark to follow.”

  “Keep your phone close,” the other man mumbled. “I may need back-up.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Chaos stood outside a brick building with a bright pink awning and attempted to stop the shudder that threatened to climb his spine. If the awning were any indication of the femininity of the place, he was in big trouble. Although he had a deep respect for the female population, girly girls were a whole different story. He oughta know – he had two baby sisters who cemented his point. For the first time in well, forever, he toyed with the idea of backing out of a mission. A spa. Damn. Still, he refused to fail.

  He inhaled a deep breath and opened the door, trying not to cringe when the bell acknowledged his appearance. The announcement couldn’t have been made by a loud gonging bell. No, the thing barely made a sound – a soft, tinkling noise that he would’ve missed had he not been standing in the doorway. Girly.

  Determined to conduct a quick in-and-out mission, he zeroed in on his target – female, he assumed – with her head bent over the reception desk. Her reddish-brown hair fell forward in a waterfall, the loose curls hanging over each shoulder and resting on the surface of the desk. Hell, his fingers itched. Although he stood directly in front of her, the podium blocked his view of the rest of her body and he fought the overpowering urge to lean forward and peek over the top. So far so good. Testosterone still flowed rapidly through his veins.

  Her position told him that she was short – emphasized by the fact that when she finally lifted her head, she would stare directly at his hips. Suddenly he really wanted her to look up. He cleared his throat in a subtle invitation.

  “Just a sec.”

  She answered without lifting her head, a clear indication that whatever she looked at had her undivided attention. Yet, he wasn’t bothered by her distraction; the sound of her voice made up for it. A cross between Marilyn Monroe and Mae West – breathy, sultry, and wild, all rolled into one. Suddenly he couldn’t thank Thunder enough for this mission.

  Still, he needed her attention to complete it.

  He took a breath. Go time. No turning back now.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am?”

  At the sound of a smooth, deep, male voice, Kate Abbott’s hormones went on full alert. Determined not to disclose her extreme interest in who the voice belonged to, she slowly raised her head and darn near fainted from pure satisfaction. Sophie had some major explaining to do. When she called earlier to give Kat the heads up on a possible interrogation, she failed to mention how incredibly sexy the interrogator would be.

  The giant of a man who stood on the other side of her appointment desk gave her a slow, easy grin and offered a hand. “Sgt. Jace Taylor, Chaos to my friends.”

  She tilted her head upward – because his size demanded it – and slipped a hand into his, not surprised to feel the sheer strength of his grip. Even dressed in slightly faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved, pale blue dress shirt, the man had military written all over him. He stood with his shoulders squared, as if he were at attention, and although her five foot, three inch stature prevented her from seeing his feet, she was willing to bet he had them planted solidly against the tile.

  “You could really use a massage,” she said in response.

  His brow wrinkled. “Ma’am?”

  “Kate Abbott, Kat to my friends.” She slipped her hand from his grip and moved her fingers to rub her thumb against the base of his wrist. “You’re tense. Come on back and I’ll put you on the table.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Oh come on, soldier. A good massage never hurt anyone.”

  “Obviously you expected me.”

  “How so?”

  “You addressed me as a soldier.”

  The man was evidently very observant. Handsome, polite, and observant – three out of four on her Mr. Wonderful list. She smirked. If she could get him out of that shirt, he might just be four out of four.

  “I have inside information.”

  “Thank you, but a massage is not on my itinerary. I just need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Questions, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well then, it appears you and I might be able to strike a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “You’re not exactly big on spontaneity are you, Sgt.?”

  “Chaos.”

  “Okay, Chaos. I’ll answer your questions while you’re stretched out on my massage table, nice and oily.”

  When he didn’t immediately react, she began to think he might possibly refuse her offer once again. And then suddenly, his lips split into a full, panty-dampening smile.

  “If you insist.”

  By the time he lay half-naked under the sheet, Kat’s tongue was very, very heavy. Number four, sexy. Yes, incredibly sexy. Still, business was business and after all, she had asked for it.

  “So, you said you needed information.”

  He grunted as she placed her hands against the back of his shoulders and began to work the muscles in a deep massag
e. Good grief, the man was hard. The muscles under her touch refused to give, as if daring her to soften them. Determined, she pressed her fingers deeper into the rigid indentions. She expected another grunt in response but instead, he lay silent with his truly to-die-for body stretched across her massage table.

  “Sgt?” she prompted.

  “Yeah, I need some information on Sophie Graystone.”

  Although she knew the answer, she asked the next question anyway. “Why?”

  “She’s your friend.”

  She purposely pressed harder against the tense bundle of muscle. “Yes, she is.”

  “Do you have any idea why someone would want to hurt her?”

  “Sophie’s been hurt?”

  “No, but we think someone may have attempted to kidnap her.”

  She moved her hands to his left shoulder and attacked the tissue there as if to divide and conquer. “She told me someone wanted the painting.”

  “Maybe. We’re not sure.”

  “We?”

  “My team, Alpha Four. Senator Graystone has hired us to investigate the incident.”

  She raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from the conversation. “So, this tattoo.” She lifted her hands and tapped the beautifully-inked dragon on the back of his left shoulder, pleasantly surprised when goosebumps danced on his skin. “I’m assuming it has something to do with your team.”

  “Yes.”

  She rolled her eyes at his lack of explanation. Name, rank, and serial number was probably all she would get. She traced her fingernail lightly over the sharp, black lines of the creature’s body, drawn in thick, bold strokes. The animal was not inked in the usual, photographic manner. Instead, the body was composed of elegant, flame-like, black strokes with deep red embellishments. The creature’s shape was unmistakable, including the red flames shooting from the nostril. Tucked into the tail, scripted letters spelled Alpha Four.

  “It’s beautiful. Did you design it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nice.” She moved her hands to the opposite shoulder and began to press the muscles there. “Why a dragon?”

  “I have a unique relationship with fire.”

  The skin beneath her touch began to soften and experience told her that his mood would soon, as well. Rather than take advantage, she turned the conversation back to Sophie. “I can’t think of anyone who would want to harm Sophie.”