Bodyguards: A Twin Menage Romance (Mandarin Connection Book 9)

by Stephanie Brother

  “We are cruising near Campamento Militar Isla Guadalupe, near the island of Guadalupe, Mexico, Miss Walker,” Walt answers. I can feel him watching me.

  “I don’t know where that is. I don’t remember very much. I’m sorry!” I say, the tears close now.

  Brad hugs me again, tighter. I like how it feels. I feel safe, but still unnerved by all of this.

  “I think we should go ahead and take some time to regroup, once we hit Hawaii,” Noah suggests.

  I dread the answer, but I have to ask the question.

  “Mr. Stone, is the tour cancelled?” I whisper.

  He looks at me.

  “Cheryl, it’s a bit complicated. I have attorneys and other experts unraveling this. Your stepmother apparently had some intricate plan to defraud NLS Holdings, but that did not come to pass. However, and oddly enough, she had purchased insurance policies on you to protect the principals in case of various – occurrences. And, one of them was kidnapping. So, actually, there may be a positive outcome here,” he replies.

  That wasn’t exactly the answer I wanted.

  “Again, I know you are worried. Don’t be. NLS has some very good people, including ties with a company that employs a very smart young lady named Leigha Bergmann. She’s the brains behind my accounting, and her father is a fantastic asset. I have discussed the matter with her. We anticipate that, at the worst, we will break even on this venture. Anything other than that is gravy. Not to mention we have tax considerations regarding the countries you’ve visited, and already performed,” he says.

  He must be a mind reader, because he looks at me and smiles warmly.

  “The important thing is your safe, now. Capt. Spalding has given his promise that these two are not allowed to leave your side for the duration,” he adds, grinning.

  “Just how did Lois pull this off?” I ask, suddenly.

  Noah’s face becomes a mask.

  “Chad, would you like to field that one?” he says.

  Chad nods.

  He sits down, and takes my hand. I am sitting on Brad’s lap, now, for some reason.

  I can feel him beneath me. It’s exciting, especially in front of all these powerful men.

  “Lois apparently found out that your father has been having an affair,” he begins.

  “What? You’re joking!” I say, jumping off of Brad and pacing the deck.

  The sea is a beautiful blue color, and the swells are gentle. The wind smells of sea salt, and the sky is almost cloudless.

  Suddenly, I’m famished!

  “Is there any food?” I ask.

  The men laugh, and a steward comes towards us.

  “Would you like anything in particular, Miss Walker?” he asks.

  “What do you have? I’d like a lobster!” I say, eagerly.

  The steward listens to me rant for a few moments.

  “Got that?” Noah asks.

  “Yes, sir. Would the rest of you prefer to dine here on deck, or at the Captain’s Table?” he asks.

  “Let’s make it a picnic, Howard. It’s a nice day for it, don’t you think?” Noah responds. The rest of us nod in agreement.

  Howard trots off.

  “What do you mean, my father had an affair? With whom?” I say, accusingly, to Chad.

  He looks suddenly uncomfortable.

  “As far as Alpha Team can determine, your father began seeing another woman about four years ago. Her name is Karen Woodson, and she lives in Florida. She’s a schoolteacher, and divorced. We don’t know exactly when your father was planning on telling Lois, if at all, but she apparently found him out. We think she wanted to humiliate him, by using you to do so. I’m really sorry, Cheryl,” Chad explains.

  I feel terrible!

  I know Daddy and Lois were having marital troubles, but I never thought he’d cheat on her! I can imagine Lois was very upset. But, was she really that furious, to damage not only my career but her own financial well-being? It didn’t make sense, on the surface.

  There must be something they were all missing?

  “Do you know where my father is, now, Chad?” I ask.

  “My phone! What happened to it? And, how did you find me?” I say suddenly.

  Brad laughs.

  “That was part of the problem. We were pulled off the team before I could tell you that we had made an arrangement with the Alpha Team, after the Sands incident,” Brad says.

  Noah makes a face.

  “Sorry, Mr. Stone. I understand the sensitive nature of this,” he adds.

  “We put a tracker in your phone. Just as a precaution!” he says, quickly, waving his hands.

  “I see. Go on,” I said, through tightened lips.

  “When Bloom went off course, we knew that something was up. The two guys that replaced us were vetted by the same people who vetted Bruce and Bart,” he continues.

  “Bruce and Bart? Who are they?” I ask, confused.

  “Oh, right. They were the two former Black Dog operators who killed Randall Mitchum, and almost killed Brian Cox and Kim Wilder at Indian Wells. Kim recognized them at the banquet, and…” he says.

  “Hold on. Hold on! You are telling me that Captain Spalding hired these killers? Are you shitting me?” I almost scream.

  Looking at Noah Stone, I am speechless for a minute.

  “Noah, seriously? You guys didn’t vet Black Dog? What the fuck?” I yell.

  Chad, Walt and Brad all share a look with Noah.

  “What? What are you hiding?” I say, my arms crossed. Now, I am getting pretty angry.

  My Daddy, a cheater. My stepmother, a fraud. And now, this?

  I walk over to the railing and scream at the top of my lungs, which is pretty loud.

  The seagulls scream back. I turn around, and all of the men look dog-faced, save Noah.

  So, I walk right up to him.

  “Okay, Mr. Man! ‘Splain it to me, the little dummy!” I demand.

  “Sit down, please, you’re upset, Miss Walker,” he requests. Brad scoots over, and pulls out a seat for me.

  “I’d rather stand,” I reply, tapping my toes on the teakwood deck. I’ll say one thing about Noah Stone, he certainly knows how to live well.

  The steward and several other deck hands appear, rolling carts of delicious smelling food our way. I watch as they work as a team, moving with precise motions, placing settings, dishes and glassware efficiently. A large lobster is set down where I am apparently supposed to sit.

  “Please,” gestures Noah. Brad has my seat all ready.

  Fuming, I shove my ass cheeks into the deck chair, and grab a fork. The lobster is perfect! I stuff my face for a few moments. I am famished! I drink some water.

  “Do you have anything stronger?” I ask the steward.

  “Miss?” he asks.

  “Vodka and Red Bull. Make it a double. And bring me some Red Stripe beers, if you have any. Four. Thank you,” I mumble around a cheddar biscuit, and cram another forkful of lobster in my ravenous mouth.

  The others ignore my rude display, but fuck all of them!

  Where the hell do they get off? Allowing me to get kidnapped, bugging my phone!

  I’m livid, and decide to slow down, so as to not make myself any more upset than I already am.

  The drinks come, and I slam down a beer, and then sip at my vodka drink. It came with an umbrella, so I goof around, stirring it in the highball glass.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Noah?” I ask.

  “Perhaps I can answer that difficult question, young lady,” says a gruff voice from behind me.

  I spin around, and there is the man with the cane from the Marina Bay Sands, and with him is the man with the black Drover’s hat!

  “We seem to be late for brunch,” the man says, smiling broadly as he sits down to the table.

  “Won’t you join us, gentlemen?” asks Noah Stone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I sit there, wondering where in the holy hell these two men came from. It was like magic!

&n
bsp; I didn’t hear another helicopter. Noah’s yacht is pretty big, so maybe they were in another cabin aft?

  Then, I hear ship’s horn blow three short bursts.

  I whip my head around, just in time to see a huge black shape moving alongside us.

  It’s a submarine! Holy shit!

  Where did that come from?

  “I see you’ve noticed the USS Betsy Ross, Miss Walker,” says the man with the cane.

  “Is that how you got here, on the yacht?” I say, flabbergasted.

  “Actually, it’s how all of us reached Campamento Militar Isla Guadalupe,” says Brad.

  “That’s classified, son,” Noah Stone says, drily. Brad looks at the cane man, and blushes.

  “I think everyone here has the proper classification, Mr. Stone. Don’t you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “Whatever you say, Admiral. I just want it on record that RISC is not the one that authorized a civilian for Delta 9 clearance. And, since she’s an American citizen, that fall outside the purview of our charter. Frankly, several of my crew are not cleared above six,” Noah says.

  Clearance? What the fuck?

  Noah Stone commands the table to attention.

  “Let me make a few introductions. Cheryl Walker, this is Admiral Reginald Decker. This other gentleman, with the natty black cowboy hat, is Kevin Mitchum.”

  “That’s a Drover’s hat!” I correct Noah, and notice that Mr. Mitchum echoes my proclamation.

  He smiles at me.

  “Not too many people know the difference, Miss Walker. A true pleasure!” he says, moving close to me and extending his hand. He presses his lips to my hand, gives a light grip, and releases me.

  What is it with all these guys?

  I giggle.

  “Can I get a Maker’s and Pepsi? Thanks!” he says, sitting down across from me. A steward, apparently reading his mind, appears almost instantly.

  “That was fast! Thank you, sir!” he smiles, and takes a huge gulp. “Excellent!”

  The steward, a young girl of maybe twenty-two, blushes. “I know your preferences, Mr. Mitchum. I am happy to be of service!” she says, a huge smile pasted on her face. She’s cute, with freckles and a decent rack, and a tight ass with great legs. I’ll bet she knows his preferences…

  I take a close look at him. He’s very handsome, if a tad old for my tastes. Fit, and has that same bulge under his jacket on the right side. There’s another bulge on the other side. Is he armed? Is that allowed here?

  He sips his drink, and fires up a cheroot, completely at home. He gazes around, and I sense that he misses nothing. In fact, I’d bet he knew that little lassie had that drink ready just as he was sitting down!

  Kevin Mitchum doesn’t fool me! He’s some kind of sharpie.

  He sees me watching him, and smiles. There are deep laugh lines on his face.

  He smells like my Daddy does, once in a while. Content.

  I sniff the cigar smoke, and my heart suddenly aches. Why did you do that to Lois, Daddy? I ask silently.

  “I call to order this meeting of the Order of RISC, subject to Maritime Law, and the accords between the United Kingdom and United States. Let the record show that we have representatives from both the Alpha Team, and Black Dog Security Forces on board the motor yacht ‘Elena.’ Let it also show that a civilian, Miss Cheryl Ann Walker, is in attendance, and has been granted a provisional interim clearance level of Delta 9 while on board. This has been approved by Admiral Reginald Decker, and counter-signed by Captain Michael “Buck” Rodgers, commander of the nuclear missile submarine ‘USS Betsy Ross.’ Furthermore, I have been given additional information regarding the occurrence at the Marina Bay Sands by Karl Jaeger. Mr. Jaeger and his crew are setting sail from Singapore on board his cruiser the ‘Miss T’. Details of his intel will be made available during this meeting and are considered classified at the highest level of Secret. All attendees are reminded to review their rights and responsibilities regarding this material. Let us begin,” Noah says.

  I notice he doesn’t even mention Mr. Mitchum.

  “Admiral, would you like to speak first?” Noah asks.

  The Admiral stands up and moves close to the port railing. I am feeling the effects of my drinks, but I also am now officially stuffed to the gills on lobster, biscuits and crabby patties.

  “Thank you, Noah. The events at the Sands have been traced to our nemesis, and I have been instructed to tell you that we suspect that Jonathon Reighland may be involved.”

  Several gasps came from the assembled team members.

  I suddenly noticed that almost everyone was armed. Even the stewards. I don’t know how I missed it before, then realized that they all carried concealed handguns. Kevin Mitchum obviously had something, and didn’t seem at all concerned that the others knew about it.

  He was watching the Admiral, but he had this tendency to just blow smoke rings, in a seemingly random pattern. The son-of-a-bitch was constantly scanning for trouble!

  “Whose Walter Reighland?” I ask, out loud.

  “Miss Walker, I understand this is out of your normal experience, and you undoubtedly have many questions. Could I trouble you to hold them until the end? And the rest of you, as well, please!” the Admiral says. It’s a command.

  “Now, then, you recall that we thought Jonathon Reighland was killed during the Ocaba Bien incident? Apparently, he’d been pretending to be his twin brother, Walter. When no body turned up, due to his falling into the sea after shooting Sarah Ghent, we suspected he had drowned. New intel, from Mr. Stone, has led us to believe that he survived, and is working with Mandarin Connection operatives,” he continues, looking straight at me.

  “Miss Walker, what I am telling you has international security implications, as well as being extremely sensitive regarding relations between the United Kingdom and the United States. Several other organizations assist us, and it is important to understand the gravity of the situation. Do you?” he asks me.

  I nod, slowly.

  “Very well, let me review what we know. Captain Spalding was given dossiers on the men known as Bruce and Bart, last names unknown, who infiltrated Black Dog. There is a very real possibility that they are former Ventretti mafia torpedoes. We have an asset embedded there that exposed the Bishop piece of the family. Mr. Stone, here, has also been invaluable in assisting us to acquire intelligence on the Ventretti’s, and other criminal organizations operating from London, Monaco and Manhattan. We suspect, based on information we obtained from debriefing Mr. Stone’s daughter, Ava, that ISA, Inc. is a front for the Ventretti mob. There is an island where we suspect human trafficking is occurring. However, RISC is working with MI-6, to uncover the secrets of how that is funded,” he explains.

  Chad and Brad both perk up. They look at each other, grinning like fools.

  “Fucking Merc!” they both exclaim and slap high fives.

  “Belay that chatter, you two!” the big Jamaican snarls.

  “It’s okay, Travis. Merc’s miraculous revival isn’t so much a secret anymore, since my son Evan and Miss Bergmann were married. We had some excitement in Monaco, recently, and I would venture to say that, without Mercutio Torelli, we’d have been in very dire straits,” Noah says.

  “Hmm. Merc Torelli? He a buddy of Lucius?” asks Kevin Mitchum.

  “Tall fellow, pretty fit, big mouth, and pretty damned good shot, if I am remembering correctly,” he adds.

  Admiral Decker nods.

  “Yes, Kevin. THAT Merc. Afghanistan and Kabul,” he smirks.

  “Hot damn! I wondered why the boy faked his own death! Now I know!” he laughs, and takes a deep puff on his cheroot, followed by a huge gulp of bourbon and cola.

  “Can we get back to business, please, mon?” Travis asks.

  “Why, you got a date…sorry, man. My bad,” says Brad.

  Travis looks pained.

  “S’okay, bruddah. Jah rules,” he murmurs.

  I make a mental note to ask Brad what that was all ab
out.

  “We all feel bad about Randy, Travis. He was a good soldier,” the Admiral says.

  Travis, who looks like he could chew holes in the side of the submarine, just gently nods his head. I can feel he’s almost weeping.

  “He was me bruddah, and friend,” Travis whispers.

  Everyone is silent for a moment.

  “The problem has escalated with the addition of Lois Walker’s interference, and the discovery of the possibility of a royal insider,” Decker continues.

  “We suspect that a large amount of gold reserves, and possibly diamonds, are being diverted by the Royal Treasury to fund Mandarin Connection operations in the Far East. We know the Golden Triangle is a major pipeline for the opium trade. It’s suspected that ISA is being used to launder money, under the guise of providing escort services to wealthy men, and women, for the Ventretti’s. But we also have solid intel that the girls they are employing may in fact be trafficked via Michael Bishop. Merc was involved in bringing that to Noah and RISC,” Decker concludes.

  Noah thanks the Admiral, and waits until he sits down.

  “Thank you again, Admiral. Our next mission is to identify the whereabouts of Lois Walker, and also Jonathon Reighland. There is a third party involved, but we aren’t certain…” he says, but Mr. Mitchum interrupts him.

  “Harlon Calloway,” he spits out, bluntly.

  “Fucker killed my brother, or had him killed. I am going to gut him like a goddamned carp!” he shouts, and then he empties his glass, and slams it on the table.

  “It’s not proven to certitude, Kevin,” Noah says, gently.

  “The son-of-a-whore is mine, don’t doubt me,” Mitchum snarls. I look at him, and his eyes contain such pain and wounded hatred that I almost pity this Calloway person.

  Almost…

  “Is there any other business?” Noah asks the table.

  No one stirs.

  “Questions?” he asks, staring right at me.

  I am tempted, but I look around at all these men, and think better of it.

  “Okay. This meeting is now ended. Dismissed. Those of you with your orders, please carry them out,” he says, calmly.