Dressed to Kill (COBRA Securities Book 22)

by Velvet Vaughn

  She climbed in to drive since she knew her way around. Gage slid into the seat beside her and stowed his laptop case on the floor. Before she took off, she turned to him. “Do you think I was the target?”

  He paused for a minute as if pondering the question. “I don’t think so, but we can’t discount the possibility.”

  “How would someone know I was going to be there at that time?”

  “Maybe the same way Dominique Fisk knew. They could’ve been lying in wait.”

  She shuddered, not liking the sound of that. “I heard one of the Coast Guardsmen say that it was most likely a drug deal gone bad.”

  He nodded slowly. “It was a narco boat, so that could be the case.” She studied his face, but she wasn’t sure he believed it.

  Starting the engine, she pointed out various buildings as they motored along the pathways. The island was beautiful, with soaring palm trees, tropical plants, and meticulously maintained grounds. Her father had made a savvy business decision when he turned it into a resort.

  She slammed the brakes as she passed the main house, feeling guilty when Gage threw out his hands to brace himself. “Sorry,” she muttered over her shoulder as she shot out of the cart.

  “Hey, wait. Where are you going?”

  Brooklyn pointed to the infinity pool—or more precisely, the person lying in the sun beside it.

  “Are you kidding me?” Gage turned and motioned to Travis Cross, who had followed them.

  Brooklyn stomped forward, fury making her blood absolutely boil. She loomed over the woman.

  “Move it. You’re in my sun.”

  “What the hell are you doing here, Abilene?”

  Abilene’s eyes snapped open, and she blocked the sun with a hand. “What does it look like, genius?”

  “It looks like you’re trespassing.”

  “I got you a strawberry daiquiri—” Austin’s words trailed off when he spotted Brooklyn. He was carrying two glasses of colorful liquid with fruit spears and straws. His nose wrinkled like he smelled something foul.

  If she hadn’t just escaped a life-or-death situation, she might’ve had more compassion for the two people who shared some of the same DNA. As it was, she was barely hanging on to her sanity. She turned to the security guard. “These two are trespassing and do not belong here. Please remove them immediately. Do not let them return.”

  Brooklyn stepped back when Abilene scrambled to her feet. “This is our island. We have every right to be here.”

  Brooklyn’s head dropped back, and she heaved a frustrated breath. “It isn’t yours. It never will be, and you have no right at all. I don’t know who allowed you here, but you are leaving. Now.”

  Abilene took one of the glasses from Austin and sipped, acting as if she had not a care in the world. “Sorry, sister. We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Restrain them, haul them off the island, and deposit them at the police station in Miami. They are to be arrested for trespassing and any other charges you can come up with,” she told Travis.

  Austin gawked at her. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I just did.”

  “Our lawyer said we own it,” Abilene responded as she thrust her chin in the air. “You can’t kick us out.”

  “He’s wrong, and I’m getting damn tired of rehashing the same argument with you two. How can you be this dense? You have no claim on anything. Are you going peacefully, or do we involve handcuffs?”

  “We aren’t going,” Austin asserted.

  “Fine. The hard way.” She motioned to the guards. Several more had arrived, probably called by Travis. “Remove them.”

  “Got it, Ms. Fontana.” The guard ripped the drink from Abilene’s hand as another grabbed her arm.

  “Unhand me this instant,” she shrieked. He ignored her and slapped a pair of restraining cuffs on her as the other guard did the same to Austin.

  “You can’t do this to us,” Austin snapped. “You’ll regret it.”

  Gage stalked forward until he was in Austin’s face. He had to look down at the shorter man, whose face had drained of all color. “I warned you to stay away. Now you’re making threats.”

  “I-I didn’t threaten—”

  “Yes, you did. Make no mistake—you’re messing with the wrong person. If I see you again, I will end you.”

  “Did you hear that? He threatened me,” Austin shouted.

  “I heard nothing,” Brooklyn claimed.

  “Me, either,” the guard holding him responded.

  Austin ground his teeth together. “Fine. We’ll go. But you don’t need to use handcuffs.”

  “Too late,” Travis announced. “We’ve alerted the police in Miami, and they’re expecting your arrival. You will be arrested when we dock at the marina.”

  “You bitch,” Abilene screamed as they were led to a golf cart. “This is our island! You have no right to keep us away!”

  “We need our luggage,” Austin insisted. “I’ll have you arrested for stealing.”

  “Your things will be shipped to your home.” After she had a look through their belongings.

  “At least let us have our phones so we can call our attorneys.”

  Though she’d love to scroll through their cells for any incriminating evidence, they were most likely password-protected, so it made no sense to keep them. Plus, the pleading tone in Abilene’s voice got to her. She picked up the one in a pink case and handed it to the guard with Abilene. Gage did the same with Austin’s cell.

  She turned away as the twins hurled insults and curse words. She was literally shaking with fury. Whoever let them on the island had some explaining to do. Their names weren’t on the approved list.

  “What is their problem?” Gage muttered. “I’ve never seen anyone who thinks they’re more entitled to something just because of their last name.”

  “They’re delusional.” She turned to Travis. “Have them escorted off the island, but don’t take them to the police. I don’t want them arrested.”

  “Are you sure?” Gage asked.

  “I can’t imagine the havoc they’ll wreak if I do. I can’t deal with their drama right now. I just don’t want them anywhere near here.”

  Travis radioed instructions to the other guards. When he slid the walkie-talkie on his belt, she asked, “Who approved their visit?”

  He shook his head. “They were here when I arrived. I’ve called Bob, the head of island security. He’s on his way.”

  A golf cart with the Fontana Island logo arrived, and a silver-headed man with a beard stepped out. Bob Warren looked like Santa Claus, complete with the rounded waist. He even played St. Nick during the holidays.

  “Brooklyn!”

  “Hi, Bob.” She hugged the man she’d known since she was young. “How are you and Judy?”

  “Living in paradise,” he responded. It was the same answer he gave every time she asked. “Was that your brother and sister being escorted away?”

  “Yes.”

  “I sure was surprised to meet them. I know you, Ginny, and Cheyenne, but I didn’t realize Charlie had twins.”

  “We just found out about them. They’ve been causing trouble, and they’re not allowed here, especially now during filming.”

  “Oh, I had no idea,” Bob sputtered. “When they told me who they were and showed me identification, I assumed you would be okay with them. Cheyenne brings her family often.”

  Cheyenne was allowed anytime. The twins weren’t.

  “I’m so sorry, Brooklyn. They assured me you approved their stay.”

  It was hard to be mad at the man who handed out presents to underprivileged children, many he made himself in his woodworking shop. Besides, her anger was directed at the twins. “It’s okay, Bob. They’ve been a thorn in my side the past few months. They’re banned until further notice.”

  “Got it.” His radio buzzed. “I’ve got to go. It’s good to see you. Judy will want to say hi, too.” His wife ran the boutique in the lobby.

  “I�
�ll stop in and see her.” She waved as he motored away.

  “What do you say we have a look at their room?” Gage suggested.

  “Great idea.”

  While Travis left, they gathered the twins’ beach towels and deposited them in a bin before heading inside. Several people wandered through the building. The production crew had been on site for days to set up.

  Brooklyn greeted the staff, many of whom had been around a long time. She discovered the twins had arrived on Tuesday, so they had to have flown down after she kicked them out of her office.

  “Brooklyn, there you are.”

  Lyle Briggs, the island manager, came rushing forward and hugged her. “It’s good to see you, Lyle.”

  “You too, darling.” He stepped back and eyed Gage speculatively.

  “Lyle, this is my boyfriend, Gage.”

  “Welcome,” he said as they shook hands. His smile turned down. “Bob called and told me that Austin and Abilene weren’t welcome here.”

  “They’re not. They’ve been causing problems for the family and company. They’re banned until further notice.”

  “I am so sorry. When we found out who they are, we lavished them with attention.”

  Great. They had to love that.

  Lyle winced. “I gave them the Sunset Suite, too.”

  Her jaw clenched. It was the best room and the one she designated for Clark Hardy, the producer. She wanted to be mad at Lyle, but he thought he was doing something good for her family. “I need to gather their belongings.”

  He waved her away. “We’ll handle that for you.”

  “I’d like to do it myself.”

  “Are you sure? It was our error.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Certainly.” He punched numbers on his phone. “The code is seven, seven, five, two, one.”

  “Thanks, Lyle.”

  They took the elevator to the top level, and she typed the sequence Lyle gave her into the keypads. The door opened, and she stared in stunned silence. It looked as if a hurricane had blown through the suite. Clothes, shoes, and shopping bags were strewn everywhere. The bathroom counter was littered with an array of grooming products and makeup. She felt bad for the people who had to clean around the mess.

  Carefully stepping over trash and clothing, she entered the bedroom. The bed was unmade, with the comforter and sheets looking as if they’d been torn off. More clothes and shoes were haphazardly tossed around. Austin and Abilene were total slobs.

  “Take a look at this.”

  Brooklyn followed the sound of Gage’s voice to see him standing over a table covered with papers. “What is all of this?” She moved closer to see letters from lawyers and case files.

  “It looks like their attorney dumped them, so they’re searching for a new one. This is what I wanted you to see.”

  He handed her a stack of papers stapled together. Her jaw dropped. “It’s a complete production schedule.” It was an older copy listing each day’s details, including the guest judge and contact information with handwritten notes beside names. She looked up at Gage in shock. “They’re the ones who sabotaged the guests.”

  “It is damning evidence,” he agreed. “Who is Brandy Holmes?”

  “She’s in charge of scheduling. She’s been working with the network to finalize details. Why?”

  He held up a yellow Post-It with her name and number. Brooklyn was pretty sure steam poured from her ears. “I need to call her.” She thanked Gage when he handed her his phone and punched in the number from the note.

  “Hello?”

  “Brandy, it’s Brooklyn.”

  “Oh, hi, Brooklyn. I’ve made the changes to the schedule and sent the revised edition to the network. I’ve emailed you an updated copy as well.”

  “Thanks. Have you given copies of the schedule to anyone not involved with the production of the show?”

  “No, why?”

  “Because I’m looking at one in the possession of someone who shouldn’t have it.”

  There was a pause. “I didn’t mention this earlier because, honestly, I didn’t realize it, but I misplaced a copy somewhere in my apartment. I’d written notes on it, and I couldn’t find it when I went to look for it. I didn’t think it was a big deal since it was an older copy with the original guests.”

  A thought formed in Brooklyn’s mind. “Do you have a roommate?”

  “Yes, but she’s in Seattle for work and has been for a month.”

  “The schedule was missing after she was gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has anyone else been in your apartment? Boy or girlfriends?”

  “No—wait, yes. I brought a date home for drinks.”

  “Were the papers missing after he was there?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “Was his name Austin Fontana?”

  “No, but close. Austin Middlebrooks.”

  Brooklyn sighed. “Are you still seeing him?”

  “No, it was a one-time thing—wait. Did you say Austin Fontana? Is that his real name?”

  “It is.”

  “Is he related to you?”

  “He’s my half-sibling. What happened at your apartment? Please spare the details,” she quickly tacked on.

  “There aren’t any because nothing happened. He left rather abruptly, and I haven’t heard from him since. Am—am I in trouble?”

  It wasn’t Brandy’s fault Austin was manipulative with thievery tendencies. “No, you’re not. How did you meet him?”

  “Through Joanna Greer, before she was let go. She said he saw me and wanted to get to know me.”

  More like he wanted to use her. She shouldn’t be shocked Joanna was in on it, but she was. “Will you let me know if he contacts you again?”

  “Sure.”

  She disconnected and handed Gage his phone. “Austin stole the schedule from Brandy’s apartment.”

  “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

  Now the cancelations made sense. The twins were responsible. She wondered what other havoc they caused.

  She and Gage packed their bags and asked Lyle Briggs to ship them to their home in Texas. She gave Gage a tour of the main house and introduced him to the staff.

  They stopped in the boutique that offered a selection of island-themed clothing for visitors. She hugged Judy, the manager and Bob’s wife, and asked her about her grandchildren. Then she selected outfits for her and Gage to replace the ones they lost. Gage’s coworkers were bringing clothes for him when they arrived in the morning. Stella would have replacements for her, too. Thankfully, the outfits she’d wear each night for judging were packed in the wardrobe boxes.

  Once they left the shop, she showed him where a runway had been constructed across a section of the pool.

  “This place is incredible,” he murmured as they navigated the terrace to their golf cart.

  “It is,” she agreed. She drove through the gardens, thinking it would be a nice place to visit with him at night, and stopped at the building that would be used for staging and judging. It had been constructed as a conference center with four separate meeting rooms. Three were on the bottom level, while the top floor was the largest space and featured floor-to-ceiling glass to take advantage of the sweeping views.

  The supplies had been shipped from her office. She planned on swiping one of the bathing suits since they had extras, as well as makeup since hers rested on the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.

  She stopped and stared at the door.

  Gage came up beside her. “What’s wrong?”

  She blinked up at him. “I don’t have a key. It was in my purse.”

  “Let’s find one of the security guards.”

  They hopped inside the cart and found Ron Hemmings. He followed them back and opened the door. Brooklyn turned on the lights. The entry had been transformed into a lounge space with comfy seating, trendy accessories, and pictures of models gracing the walls. Restrooms were off to one side, and stairs led to the seco
nd level and the hurricane shelter below ground. There was also an elevator.

  Down a corridor were the conference rooms. Two approximately the same size had been converted into hair and makeup stations, while the bigger one at the end of the hall would be used for wardrobe.

  Opening the door to the room set aside for the hair salon, she flipped on the light. Boxes were stacked inside, waiting for the stylists to arrive and set up. They had been labeled with the contents and the letter A to specify which room to place it. The makeup boxes would be marked with a B and wardrobe a C. Four chairs were placed in front of large lighted mirrors with tables to hold brushes, curling irons, and anything else needed. There were also two salon sinks to wash hair.

  Turning off the lights, she moved to the makeup room. It featured the same set-up with four chairs in front of lighted mirrors. Several display shelves would hold an array of cosmetics once they were unboxed.

  “Do you have a knife?”

  She wasn’t surprised when Gage opened one from a multi-tool gadget and handed it to her. She sliced through the tape, taking out the items she needed. Once finished, they headed to the room that would serve as the wardrobe station.

  Empty racks with hangers were lined up against a wall, waiting for the clothing. Boxes almost overtook the space. They were packed with shoes, accessories, and outfits for the different themes of the shoots. She had spent weeks with Shoshana Emery going over the looks they wanted to convey, and Shoshana had then purchased the elements. A wave of sadness hit her that Shoshana wouldn’t be able to see her plans come to fruition. Brooklyn was already feeling off-kilter after the boat explosion and then dealing with the twins. It would take very little to tip her over the edge.

  With a deep inhale, she focused on the boxes.

  “What are you looking for?” Gage asked.

  “One marked Sun and Surf Swimwear.”

  “Over here.”

  She followed Gage’s voice to see the box that held the suits the women would wear for the first shoot on Monday. He lifted it from the stack and placed it on the ground in front of her.

  Slicing through the tape, she peeled the flaps open and gasped. Instead of swimsuits, it was full of shreds of colorful cloth. She dipped her hand inside and sifted the pieces through her fingers. Someone had destroyed all the suits.