And then she made her own sound. Startled pleasure. “This is really good.”
He started eating, too. “It is. We can cook for ourselves, too, once we’ve exhausted the menu. I’m not a bad cook. Do you cook?”
Elle smiled at the thought. “Not at all,” she said cheerfully. “I can make soft boiled eggs if I have a timer. Make coffee and tea and toast. Peel fruit. That’s about it. Sorry.”
He shrugged, one side of his mouth lifting. “No problem. I placed a big order for food supplies, so we won’t be dependent on the restaurants here. We’ll have plenty of time. At the end I’ll be making ossobuco that stews for ten hours and we’ll be playing endless games of Monopoly. And before you say anything —” his big hand shot up, palm facing her. “No, I don’t know how long we’ll be here. That is completely out of my control, as I said.”
That was exactly what she was going to ask.
“Never even thought of asking it,” she said.
The truth was, it wasn’t so bad being cooped up with Bennett Cameron in a deluxe apartment with every comfort known to man. He was such good company, easy to get on with and immensely attractive.
But beyond that — he was good at his job because she felt protected. It had never occurred to her that that was a thing. Elle wasn’t fearful by nature, but she was a woman who lived alone and moved in a man’s world. She traveled often, sometimes to difficult places, and she traveled alone.
It wasn’t always fun and it wasn’t always safe. Unease was like a background noise. She realized that because right now she felt safe. Even if there were a zombie apocalypse, he’d keep her safe and get her out of London and find them a nice little house in the country …
This was crazy thinking, but the feeling of safety persisted and it was warm and soft and incredibly nice.
“So,” she said, taking her first bite of the sandwich and finding it delicious. “Bodyguarding, huh?”
He smiled. “Like I said, in the business we call it ‘close protection’, but it’s essentially bodyguarding, yeah.”
He looked so amazingly super competent, like he could fend off those zombie hordes while cooking ossobuco, sipping a martini. And then there was that ramrod straight posture, that no nonsense demeanor.
“Did you train for that in the military?”
His dark eyes were amused as he nodded his head. “Bingo. Among other things.”
“What …” What were they called? Not departments, that was university. Not Sections or Offices. Branches, that was it. “What branch?”
“Navy. I was in the Navy until I had to quit because of an injury.” A shadow crossed his face, almost too fleeting to see. Elle was surprised that she’d seen it, she wasn’t always tuned in to the emotions of her fellow humans. Whatever the injury was, it wasn’t visible. He looked superbly fit.
“Navy, huh.” She looked up suddenly. “What part of the navy?”
“I was a SEAL,” he said and frowned when she dropped her head into her hands and gave a low moan. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, my God. I asked if you could swim. I asked a navy SEAL if he could swim. And — I was even showing off a little for you. I am such a dope.” Her face was on fire.
When she let her hands fall to the table, he covered one of them with his again. His hand was so beautiful. Huge, callused, warm. Strong. “Well, you couldn’t know. And to tell you the truth, I was impressed.”
Yeah, right. She gave an unladylike snort. Strong fingers gently caught her chin and lifted her face to his. If she’d expected a sneer, it wasn’t there.
“I admired your — your swim form.”
She blinked.
He tilted his head and gave a half smile. “And because I’m not dead, I also admired your form form, if you get what I mean.”
Elle watched his eyes, dark and warm and full of humor. Yeah, she got what he meant. It was funny. She usually disliked compliments on her looks. She’d been lucky enough to take after her mother who was still a beauty at fifty-five. She thanked the goddesses every day that she didn’t take after her father, who looked like a cross between a goat and Gollum. Her looks didn’t have anything to do with her, with her abilities and strengths. So she usually brushed compliments off, particularly since they were often given by men she cared nothing about.
She couldn’t say that about Bennett. He intrigued her and, well, she admired his … form, too. Broad shoulders, thick pecs visible beneath the sweater, lean waist, long strong legs, what was not to like? And she felt at ease with him, as if they’d known each other for a long time instead of 36 hours, even if some of that time had included him drugging her and lashing her to a chair.
Not exactly a great first date.
She wanted to know more and it looked like he wasn’t going anywhere. “So.” Elle rested her chin in her hand. “How does one transition from being a navy SEAL to a bodyguard? Or close protector, or whatever you call yourself.”
“Close protection agent. And it’s a natural transition. We did a lot of that in the Teams. We provided protection for a lot of bigwigs coming in from Washington. They needed a protection detail which we provided. And we also went in to save people under threat and bring them out. You got points if you did that and the hostage stayed alive. When I got out, I founded a company to do what I had already done for Uncle Sam. Only the pay was better.”
“How many … agents work for you?”
“About a hundred fifty. We’re going to get a new intake of about fifty more operators very soon, business is booming. It’s a messed-up world. Good for business.”
She chewed that over in her mind. “Were you happy with the transition from the military to civilian life?”
Again, that something, a kind of shadow, passed over his features, but when he answered it was still in that light-hearted tone. “It’s okay. We — my operators and I — worked in a world where war is a constant. We’ve been at war for over seventeen years, much longer than I’ve been in the service. And we’re still at war and we’re not winning. What we do now, in the company — well, we win. We keep people alive, which is the mission.” Another light shadow, like a fleeting cloud across the sun. “Until —”
“Until?”
Bennett sighed, pushed the cup of coffee to one side and clasped his hands in front of him. He looked down at them for a long time, so long she wondered what was going through his head. Whether he was going to continue or not.
He lifted his head. “There are things on the horizon that are worrying us.” He closed his eyes, opened them again, fierce and dark. “That’s a dumb word. There are things on the horizon that scare us all shitless.”
Bennett Cameron didn’t look like a man scared of much on this earth. If it scared him … “Like?”
“We haven’t lost a principal yet, though some day we will. It’s just the odds. You can’t really protect a principal against a sniper who is accurate at a mile out. He is invisible and the bullet arrives before the sound of the shot reaches you. And there is research into programmable bullets. Bullets that can be shot from miles away and can change trajectory to hit the target, just like a miniature heat-seeking missile. Weaponized drones are a nightmare. Or drones carrying DNA sniffers. Likewise, there isn’t an armored car built that can withstand a strike by an RPG. That’s a —”
“Rocket propelled grenade.” She nearly smiled at his surprised expression. He had no idea how many hours she spent playing Call of Duty 4. “Go on.”
“Basically we keep principals alive through stealth. Through making sure no one knows where they are. But sometimes we have principals that are too stupid to live. Like the daughter of a rich Colombian who’d survived two kidnapping attempts. We took the job on and took her to a safe house and believe me when I say the safe house was safe. But the girl had a boyfriend she was hot for and she smuggled in a cellphone and called him. Turns out he was the one who’d ordered the kidnappings. Luckily one of my officers heard her talking and got everyone out of there about an hour before
the whole place blew up. How do you protect yourself against human stupidity?”
“You can’t,” she said crisply. “All you can do is work the odds and leave as little room for stupidity as possible.”
He nodded.
“So, what are the plans?”
He’d been staring at the tabletop, clearly depressing himself. He looked at her without raising his head. “I beg your pardon?”
“Seems to me that your business is coming up against a technological wall. Major disruption. It wouldn’t be the first business and it won’t be the last. But you also seem like the kind of guy who doesn’t sit still for a tsunami of tech to overwhelm him. So what’s Plan B?”
Bennett gave a half smile. “What makes you think there’s a Plan B?”
She just sat silently, looking at him. Why he’d have a Plan B (and C and D, probably) was self-evident in the way he held himself. In his sharp, observant gaze and the way he moved, with 360° awareness. After a minute or two, he sighed.
“You’re right. There is a Plan B. I’m looking into expanding into other areas. Areas where human intelligence matters. Tech supported of course, but where the odds are more in our favor.”
“Okay,” she said. “Like?”
“Well, we’re specialized abroad. It’s why headquarters is in London, because it’s a really good time zone for global operations. So we’re becoming the go-to company for things like international surveillance, tracking down cross-border fugitives, infiltrating companies under investigation.”
“And you’re good at it.” It wasn’t a question.
“We do okay.” He leaned forward a little. “As a matter of fact, your software would be amazingly useful to us. I’d love to be able to move my operators in areas where there are video cams without being ID’d. Would you be willing to sell it to me?”
“No.” Her voice was decisive.
He didn’t even blink. A businessman used to negotiating. “I could make it really worth your while.”
She shook her head. Nuh-uh.
“Really really worth your while.” He wasn’t wheedling, but close to it.
“If it’s money you’re offering, I don’t need money.”
It was true. A mountain of untouched money had been deposited by her father in her name at Chase Manhattan. She didn’t touch it. But it was there, even though she didn’t need it. She guest-taught under contract at various universities and they paid really well. Her two books were academic bestsellers and her conference speaker fees were high. No, she didn’t need money.
“But …” She leaned forward a little, too. Exactly as much as he had, no more no less. Two could play the negotiating game. As a matter of fact, Elle was probably better at it. “I’d be willing to barter for it.”
That did surprise him, though he didn’t show it. Not a muscle moved. But his eyes blinked without blinking.
“Okay.” He didn’t move his gaze from her eyes as he opened his big hands on the table, as if ready to receive something. “Shoot.”
“I’ll happily give you the use of my program and I’ll throw in, say, five training days for your best IT guy. Who I don’t think is you.”
He didn’t wince, didn’t change expression, but his eyes lit up with what looked like amusement. “No, not me. So, just to be clear, you’re willing to give me a program that can mask my operatives when entering places with security cams, which will make a huge difference to them, maybe even save lives. Plus training my best IT tech, which would be Melissa Sanders. And in return you don’t want money?”
She nodded. “That about sums it up.”
“I hardly dare ask what it is you do want in return. Is it illegal? Immoral?”
“Not even fattening. I want you to assign me a problem you’re dealing with that isn’t close protection. I wouldn’t be trained in that in any way and it feels … boring.”
He tilted his head, looking intrigued. “Boring isn’t the word most people would use for close protection.”
“But it is. Every aspect of it is out of your control except your own vigilance. You guys must drown in cortisol while on the job. And I should imagine most principals are people with more money than sense and certainly not interesting people. So you lay your lives on the line daily for, essentially, jerks. I’m sure it is very well paid and you’ll have plenty of work. People with money tend to have lots of enemies. But somehow I don’t see you as driven by money lust. So you’re tired of doing something just because it pays well and you’d like to do something other than protecting jerks. Is that an accurate description?”
“It is.” He sighed. “But don’t say I said that. And present company excepted, of course.”
“Of course.” She tilted her head to study him, exactly as he had. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy to stay with an unsatisfactory situation for long. So tell me more about your Plan B.”
It was a full blown smile now. “You don’t pull your punches, do you?”
“That’s a stupid expression — to pull your punches. It comes from boxing. And either you’re fighting, so you’d be dumb to pull your punches, or you’re not fighting and you’d be a sociopath if you were punching someone.”
He threw back his head and laughed. She’d have been offended except for the fact that he was amazingly hot when he laughed. His eyes — which she saw now were dark gray and not dark brown — crinkled and he flashed amazingly white teeth. How could he have been a soldier with those amazing teeth? Had he never been punched? She’d lost a tooth when she was twelve because she’d tripped over a tree trunk, and playing in the yard was much safer than being a navy SEAL.
Bennett reached out a long finger and traced a line between her eyebrows. “Those look like complicated thoughts. I assure you I’m an uncomplicated man.”
Oh no, he wasn’t. He had complication written all over that handsome face.
God, she could almost feel the lines of attraction, and at the end of those lines were tiny virtual grasping hands pulling her forward toward him. She had to actually clutch the edges of the table to keep from getting up and sitting down on his lap.
This was so unlike her.
Though, to be fair, he was immensely attractive. Elle met a lot of single men in her line of work, but she didn’t meet too many attractive men. And absolutely nobody like Bennett Cameron.
Still, she didn’t want him laughing at her, either. “So tell me what the new Plan B is.”
He stopped laughing and looked down at the tabletop, head hanging between broad shoulders. He looked like he was chewing on a problem. She waited while he chewed his way to a solution.
“Okay,” he said finally, head coming back up. The laughter had been completely wiped off his face. “I’ve built up a company that happens to have a lot of latent expertise in things other than close protection. Like I said, we operate throughout the world and a lot of my operators are familiar with foreign countries. We’ve got deep knowledge of Africa, Asia and Europe. Two of my guys who grew up in Alaska and were originally part of the Army’s 10th Mountain Division pulled off a difficult mission in Antarctica. So we’re … expanding our portfolio, as it were. Mainly investigative work for the government or private clients.”
Spying, she imagined he meant. A shiver of excitement went through her.
This was it. “Okay. There you go. That’s my price.”
He cocked his head again, a gesture she was beginning to recognize, tilting his head to perceive better. “What?”
“I told you. You want my program? Give me a case. Give me a case to study or to solve, something that can be done via computer and not in the field, of course.” She waved at the four taupe walls. “I’m a little hampered at the moment. Plus I’m not what you’d call a ‘field person’. I do my best work in dark dens, with order-in pizza. But I’ll bet you have something in the pipeline I could work on.”
Bennett was staring at her, humor gone, scowling.
A bell rang in the kitchen. She could almost see him refraining f
rom saying saved by the bell. Though he clearly thought it. His face cleared up and he pushed himself to his feet.
“That’s the carrot muffins. And as far as giving you one of our cases—absolutely not.”
Elle rose, smiling. Those muffins smelled delicious. She’d have those wonderful carrot muffins and then bug Bennett until he gave her what she wanted. Mentally rubbing her hands, she thought — this is going to be fun.
She broke him. Bennett thought of himself as essentially unbreakable. His Senior Chief hadn’t managed to break him during Hell Week, though he’d tried real hard. Senior Chief Darryl ‘Rattlesnake’ Murray had made it his personal goal to make Bennett ring the bell, the signal that the candidate quit, but he never managed it.
Bennett had faced any number of enemies whose one goal in life was to see him dead and buried, and he’d come out the victor.
Dr. Elle Castle just defeated him.
She ate his muffins with gusto, chattering away, fixing him with those enormous cobalt eyes, blinding him with science and flooding him with well-thought-out arguments in her soft, expressive voice.
It was like being bludgeoned to death by butterfly wings.
Finally Bennett put down his fork, rolled his eyes to the ceiling — which provided no help whatsoever — and caved.
She was on a roll. “Theory is a remarkably useful underpinning for objective action —”
“Okay,” he said, restraining himself from throwing up his hands.
“— and provides a useful analytical tool to — what did you say?” She froze, a forkful of her third muffin halfway to her mouth. Bennett had no idea how she wasn’t 400 pounds with all the food she ate. But she wasn’t. She was slender with a few perfect curves in all the right places.
He sighed. “I said okay. I imagine you are prepared to hound me day and night until I give in, anyway.”
“Absolutely.” She patted her mouth with the monogrammed linen napkin, probably hiding a smile. “I like getting my way.”
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