Dressed to Kill (COBRA Securities Book 22)

by Velvet Vaughn

  “Where did you get it?”

  “None of your business.”

  Kaiya was done. “Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  “You sound like that other guy,” Austin grumbled, and Kaiya assumed he meant Gage. She took it as a compliment.

  “The easy way is for you to back off, give up your ridiculous quest to worm your way into anything to do with the show, the island, or your step-siblings.”

  “What’s the hard way?” Austin asked mulishly.

  “You will be arrested for trespassing—for real this time. We turn over the evidence that you stole intellectual property to the authorities, and you’ll most likely be arrested for that, too. You will definitely be arrested for destroying property. And you’ll be slapped with restraining orders to stay away from Fontana Towers, Fontana Island, Brooklyn, Cheyenne, and Ginny, or else you’ll be arrested on the spot.” She turned to Ryan. “That would be four strikes, wouldn’t it?”

  He nodded slowly. “Sure would.”

  “We didn’t destroy property,” Austin argued.

  “You did when you opened the boxes and shredded the swimsuits.”

  “We didn’t do that!” they chimed in unison.

  “You’re saying you didn’t take that suit from the boxes before you destroyed the others?”

  Abilene sighed. “I got from a friend who worked for Brooklyn.”

  “Who is this friend?”

  “Her name is Joanna Greer.”

  That was the woman who had been fired for—wait for it—stealing clothing. “How long have you been friends?”

  “Not long,” Abilene hedged.

  “You can’t make us stay away from the building or the island,” Austin stated. “We have every right to be there.”

  “God, they’re exhausting,” Ryan muttered.

  “No kidding.” It was like talking to two brick walls. She stood. “Looks like it will be the hard way.”

  “Wait!” Abilene jumped to her feet. “We don’t want to go to jail.”

  “You should’ve thought about that before you started on your quest to integrate yourselves where you don’t belong and are not welcome,” Ryan admonished.

  All bravado gone, Abilene collapsed back to her seat. “We grew up without our dad. We didn’t even know him or his name until he died. When we found out who he was, we were pissed that he was one of the richest people in the country, and we grew up poor.”

  “Didn’t your mother accept a multi-million-dollar payout from your dad?” Kaiya remembered that was one factor that derailed their lawsuit.

  “Yeah? So?” Austin asked.

  “You think that constitutes growing up poor?” Ryan gaped.

  “When your dad is a gazillionaire, yes,” Abilene stated.

  “I’m done with these two.” Ryan stood.

  She was, as well. They started to leave.

  “We’ll do it.”

  They both stopped and turned. “Do what?” Kaiya asked.

  “We’ll stay away,” Austin mumbled.

  “And…” Ryan prompted.

  Abilene sighed. “We’ll quit trying to visit the island or offices.”

  She didn’t believe them, but it was good enough for now. Unfortunately, they’d be doing surveillance on the twins to make sure they caused no more problems. While she called BeBe to switch their accommodations, Ryan returned to their original rooms to pack their belongings. It looked like they’d be staying in the uber-exclusive hotel with Abilene and Austin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As soon as Gage explained the situation to Kendall, Olivia, and Taylor and disconnected, his cell buzzed again.

  “We had a chat with the twins,” Kaiya said. “Good grief, they’re arrogant morons.”

  Gage chuckled. “They are.”

  “As pretentious and entitled as they are, Ryan and I don’t think they’re involved with the sabotage.”

  Gage’s brows raised. “Seriously? They’re my top suspects.” Number one, actually. “They had means and motive.”

  “Yes, but neither one is a good enough actor to hide their involvement. Austin insisted the reason he took the itinerary was to find out the schedule. I think they planned on being more involved in the show by any means possible. I don’t think they tried to sabotage it.”

  If Austin and Abilene didn’t call and cancel the guests, someone else was still working behind the scenes. “What about the destroyed swimwear?”

  “That was interesting. I realized Abilene was wearing a suit from the same brand.”

  “You noticed that?”

  Kaiya scoffed. “Yes. Maybe I don’t always dress like it, but I am up on fashion.”

  “No offense meant,” he apologized.

  “It’s okay. Anyway, she admitted that one of Brooklyn’s former employees stole a suit for her.”

  “Joanna Greer?”

  “Yes, that’s the name. But I don’t think they had anything to do with the destruction. They reluctantly agreed to quit trying to interfere with the show or accessing the island. We’ve got them under surveillance now.”

  “We need to have a chat with Joanna Greer,” Gage decided.

  “I can fly up to New York and interview her tomorrow while Ryan monitors the twins.”

  “That would be great. Also, while you’re there, can you track down Ruth Long and talk to her? She quit when she didn’t get the job she wanted.”

  “Another person with means and motive,” Kaiya said. “I’ll find her.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. Keep me posted.”

  After he disconnected, he wandered around the bungalow. The sound of the waves crashing against the beach filled the space. The kitchen was outfitted with high-end appliances and a seating area with a perfect view of the water. The bedroom was airy yet cozy, with doors that opened to a covered terrace. A king-sized bed with a white comforter dominated the space. He studiously ignored the sound of the shower in the attached bathroom, forcing the images of a wet, naked Brooklyn from his head.

  How the hell would he share a bed with her and not touch her? His attraction to her grew by the minute. She was so down-to-earth and easy to talk to, he forgot she was a world-famous supermodel. The couch, he reminded himself. He’d be bunking on the sofa.

  She’d left the bag with his clothes from the shop on the bed. T-shirts were more his style, but the tropical-print shirts blended with the surroundings. At least she’d picked ones in subtle colors. He didn’t hate them.

  He stepped onto the terrace as a hairdryer kicked on and almost groaned again. Tucked in a corner, surrounded by palm trees, was an enticing hot tub. There was even a hammock. They were steps from the water, with a white-sand beach. It would be a perfect place to spend a honeymoon.

  He jerked to a stop. Why the hell was he thinking of marriage and commitment and happily ever after? Brooklyn was his case, nothing more. Just because his feelings were deeper than he’d ever experienced and his heart tried to leap from his chest every time he saw her meant nothing.

  When she appeared from the shower looking like a snapshot of a print ad, he had to take a step back. It was like a physical blow to his solar plexus. Every. Single. Time.

  Gage mumbled an excuse and hurried into the bathroom to shower. His heart thumped so rapidly, he was afraid he was suffering a heart attack. He cranked the taps to cold to cool his libido, and by the time he finished, he’d wrestled his hormones under control.

  He found Brooklyn standing on the terrace, watching the waves crash against the shore. He wanted to go to her and gather her in his arms. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and approached. Gage repeated his conversation with Kendall and Olivia. She borrowed his phone to call Ginny and Cheyenne to fill them in on what was happening.

  When she disconnected, he said, “Two of my coworkers questioned Austin and Abilene. They don’t believe they’re involved in the sabotage, but they’re going to follow them to make sure they stay out of trouble.”

  She t
urned to him, looking like the most beautiful woman on the planet. “But they seem like the most logical choices,” she argued.

  “I agree, but I also trust Kaiya and Ryan’s instincts. If they don’t believe they’re guilty, then chances are, they aren’t.”

  “That means someone else is out to get me.”

  She looked so forlorn, he gathered her in his arms and settled into a deck chair. He held her against him, letting her absorb his strength. A half an hour later, his phone buzzed, and he answered.

  “Gage, it’s Kendall. We’ve got footage of Ginny Hurst and Cheyenne Warton giving their side of the twins’ story. We need a video of Brooklyn to finish the piece.”

  “What did they say?”

  “That the twins wanted nothing to do with the family from the beginning and tried to extort money from the company. Can you record Brooklyn on your phone giving a statement and then send it to me?”

  “Sure. I’ll call you back in a few.” He disconnected. “That was Kendall of TKO Productions. They have footage of Ginny and Cheyenne giving their rebuttal to the twins’ interview.”

  “Wow, that was incredibly fast.”

  “Yeah, they’re that good. They need you to give a statement. I can record you on my phone.”

  “Okay.”

  They set up a chair in front of the French doors. Gage nodded, and she began to speak, telling her side of the story. She was at home in front of the camera, and they would’ve gotten the video in one shot if a loud crash of thunder hadn’t startled her, making her jump. She started again, and the second take was better than the first one.

  He replayed it for her to make sure she included everything she wanted to say. He was proud of her for detailing the facts without trashing the twins—he wouldn’t have been so magnanimous.

  He forwarded it to Kendall, and she instantly replied with a thumb’s up emoji.

  “You hungry?” he asked. He was starving.

  “Yes.”

  The storm had blown over, so they loaded into the golf cart and motored to the main house. She slipped her hand in his as they entered the dining room. Several people were enjoying a fine meal. She waved to the ones she recognized. A booth was waiting for them with fresh flowers, a bottle of wine, and candlelight. Brooklyn had stopped in earlier to make reservations and put in orders of blackened local mahi-mahi for him and bacon-wrapped shrimp for her. A server appeared with a basket of warm yeast rolls and opened the bottle of wine. She introduced herself as Sally. She looked starstruck talking to Brooklyn.

  “How long have you worked here?” Brooklyn asked.

  “About a month, and it’s the best job I’ve ever had.” She waved her arms. “You can’t beat the location.”

  After she poured the wine, she left to retrieve their salads. He was on the job, so he’d just sip the vino. He held up his glass. “To a successful show.”

  “Amen.” Brooklyn clinked her goblet to his.

  Light from the flames danced over her features, making her look almost ethereal, and he wondered again at his luck in drawing this assignment.

  They thanked Sally after she placed their salads in front of them. The lettuce was fresh and crisp, as were the tomatoes. The cheese and croutons added a tasty zing. His phone beeped with a text. He glanced at the screen. “It’s from Kendall.” He clicked a link, and a video played. Olivia’s face filled the screen.

  “Earlier today, false claims were made in the media by Austin and Abilene Middlebrooks Fontana regarding Fontana Enterprises, Doctor Cheyenne Warton, businesswoman Ginny Hurst, and supermodel Brooklyn Fontana. This video will set the record straight.” Ginny’s clip played first, and she looked polished and professional sitting at her desk with Hurst Enterprises in gold letters behind her. Cheyenne’s part was next, and she was outfitted in her green doctor scrubs, with the bustle of hospital activity behind her. Brooklyn was last with her message that echoed what the other two said. Then there was a statement from designer Suki saying how wonderful Brooklyn was to work with and how she wished every model was as competent, friendly, and focused. Finally, there was a statement from a girl named Shantel, who was awarded a scholarship from one of Brooklyn’s charities, and how it had changed her life.

  “That’s perfect,” she said when it ended. “How did they do that so fast? I mean, they talked to Suki. She’s a superstar.”

  “They’re that good.” He read another text. “It’s been distributed to Jack Yates, the social media journalist who posted Austin and Abilene’s original clip, as well as dozens of other outlets.”

  She sat back. “I’m impressed. The network will be, too. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “I did nothing but make a call.”

  #

  Brooklyn had never enjoyed a dinner more than the one she shared with Gage Monahan. She’d been around enough male models in her career to know that many were shallow and obsessed with their bodies. Though Gage had the looks to outshine them all, he was intelligent, with a wicked sense of humor. He was confident without being arrogant. They talked and laughed, and before she knew it, they’d finished their meals.

  Massimo Ricci, the world-renowned chef who had worked at the resort for years, tried to entice her to order dessert, but she was full from her meal and tasting Gage’s. They’d shared bites of each other’s dishes.

  She was feeling slightly buzzed from the red wine. She noticed that Gage barely sipped his, but after the stressful day, she didn’t mind downing three glasses of the delicious Pinot Noir from a California vintner.

  Using her tipsy state as an excuse, she threaded her arm through his, marveling once again at the solid muscles. He was a hunk. And he’d bailed her out of a challenging situation again. She planned to call TKO Productions in the morning to thank them for their quick, professional work and pay them for their services.

  She led Gage to the Charleston Lounge—named after her father—and pointed out the stage in the corner. “They host live entertainment. I thought about holding Layla’s concert here, since it already has the equipment set up and the acoustics, but an evening concert on the beach with a bonfire sounded better.” It sounded positively romantic.

  “It does.”

  Glancing out the window, she saw a group of people walking toward the resort. The production crew was arriving in full force. She didn’t feel like dealing with them after the long, hectic day, so they slipped into their golf cart and took the long way around the island to their secluded cottage.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Not much rattled Brooklyn. She could walk an uneven runway on six-inch stilettos in front of the biggest names in fashion without blinking an eye. She could recite lines for commercials or guest appearances on television effortlessly. But the thought of crawling into bed with the sexiest man she’d ever met had her stomach in knots.

  She shouldn’t be entertaining thoughts of sleeping with Gage. She didn’t have time in her life right now for a relationship, but her heart didn’t care.

  She was nowhere near drunk, but the wine she’d imbibed gave her the courage to go after him. Then she remembered he was being paid to be with her. What if he didn’t feel the same way? She still didn’t know if he had a girlfriend. That was something she should find out before having improper thoughts about her bodyguard. It would be best to ignore her feelings and concentrate on the weeks ahead. She had so much to do, she shouldn’t fantasize about ripping off his shirt, running her fingers along his washboard abs—

  “Nice night,” Gage said, snapping her from her naughty thoughts. He parked the golf cart under the carport attached to the bungalow and killed the engine. He didn’t look the least bit rattled. Meanwhile, she struggled with so many issues, she’d lost count.

  The evening was warm as the sun dropped over the horizon on the western side of the island. As they emerged from the cart, she reached for his hand, the move almost instinctual, though they hadn’t known each other long. His big, calloused palm engulfed hers, making her feel dainty. That was a feat si
nce she stood five-ten.

  Once they were inside, the air thickened, and her breath labored. It was scary how much she desired this man. Not going to happen, not going to happen, she chanted to herself.

  “So, this has been—” was all he managed before she attacked him.

  #

  Gage was fighting with himself. He wanted Brooklyn more than his next breath, but he was on the job. He needed to keep their relationship professional, but it was getting harder by the minute. He could face four Taliban fighters in hand-to-hand combat and take them down (he had), and maybe he could swim through the surf with a hundred pounds strapped on his back (he had), and he might be able to bench press three hundred pounds (he could), but he didn’t think he was strong enough to resist Brooklyn Fontana. He was right.

  When she stood on tiptoes and crushed her mouth to his, he was done. Her lips were soft and supple, and he couldn’t get enough. The mewling sounds she made hardened his body to the point of bursting. He slid a hand up to cup her breast, almost groaning at the weight in his palm. She moved against him restlessly, and he was desperate for her.

  “Gage, wait.”

  He almost whimpered when he released her breast and pulled back. It might kill him, but he’d stop if she asked.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  It took him a minute to process her question. When he did, his temper instantly flared. “Do you think I’d be kissing you like this, touching you intimately if I did?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

  If she didn’t think he had any more integrity than that, this was a stupid idea. He started to move away, but she grabbed his arm.

  “Wait. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that I haven’t had the best track record with men. And I can’t imagine someone as gorgeous as you not having a girlfriend.”

  That appeased him somewhat. “One thing you should know about me is that I don’t cheat. If I’m with a woman, I’m only with her.”

  She nodded. “I believe you.”

  “You think I’m gorgeous?”

  She rolled her eyes adorably. “You have a mirror, don’t you?”