Chapter 2
2
Leigh Waterford, newly sworn in as the Southern District of California US Attorney after the tragic loss of Betsy Marlowe parked her car in the driveway of her parents' upscale mansion. The wrap-around driveway made it easy to arrive and depart for guests. Her mother was certainly more enamored in the historic nature of the home than she was of the ease of coming and going. It was the former home of an architect who had it built in 1911, and the property taxes on the federal-inspired house with its charming front porch were more than most people made in a year.
She gritted her teeth as the high heels she put on for her mother’s birthday celebration pinched her toes, but her mother would expect Leigh to be dressed to the nines for dinner. She’d donned a navy Chanel suit she kept for the type of occasions that she found herself in when she’d visited her parents’ home for dinner when she happened to be back in DC. She was sure this was going to be another episode of talking Leigh out of serving justice and into doing what her mom and dad did…work for money. It was all about the Billable Hours God .
Her mom and dad had no clue who Leigh really was, and sometimes Leigh struggled on her good days to find that for herself. She’d grown a hard shell to either keep it all in or keep it all out and no one—not her family, her friends, or her coworkers could penetrate her shield. She could still hear her college roommate telling her that if she didn’t let someone in, she was going to grow old and die alone with twenty cats. There was nothing wrong with cats; she loved their independent and no-nonsense attitude, especially their confidence and arrogance that humans would do things their way…or else. But it was possible to go overboard, and a cat lady was not in her future…she hoped.
She’d envisioned a much more sedate life, but that had changed at a young age after she’d had a rude awakening, knocking her out of her daydreams and into corporate law hell. Her heart contracted when she thought about her younger self and all those stars in her eyes. She could lay the blame for those memories right at Archer Booth’s feet…Hazard. What a perfect call name. That’s exactly what he was to her. A dangerous temptation roped with muscle, quiet confidence, a husky, distracting voice, and an achingly gorgeous face. Working to get the man out of her head, and the memories that being in the same vicinity of a military man generated, she clicked up the brick steps onto the porch, admiring the immaculate landscaping around the walk. Well, at least to Leigh. She was sure that her mother would find something wrong with it.
The mansion was located in Georgetown, that beautiful historical area of DC that was nestled along the Potomac River and was heralded as one of the most iconic Washington neighborhoods with its old-world charm and sophistication. Traffic passed on the cobblestone street in front, flanked by other historical homes. She rang the bell and braced herself, thinking it would be strange to many that she was standing at the door of her parents’ home ringing the bell instead of walking in. But unannounced wouldn’t do for Marlene Waterford.
She had ceased to feel welcome in this house when she had gone against her mother’s wishes and ditched her corporate law position for an assistant district attorney position in Suffolk County serving in Boston. It was a job her mother looked down on, as if serving the public was something distasteful. Her mother hadn’t ever forgiven her, but if she knew what Leigh had planned all those years ago, it would have had an even worse outcome. The people in this house were strangers with the same last name. Those feelings brought on an even more complicated mix of emotions—resentment and guilt warring within for dominion over her soul.
As they waited, the memory of what had happened in her last year of law school, and the regret and loss she still felt, came back at her like a freight train. To her horror, her eyes smarted. She couldn’t let any moisture ruin her perfect eye makeup. That wouldn’t do.
A fist of anxiety tightened in her stomach. The same one she had felt as a child during her mother’s inspections.
She wished she could be anywhere but here. She had a mountain of work on her desk back in San Diego, feelers out for any scrap of news about Angel Alzate, and a burning stomach that really needed some antacid.
The door opened to a woman Leigh didn’t recognize, but that wasn’t a surprise. Her mother went through maids like water through a sieve. “Leigh Waterford,” she said, and the woman looked at her blankly. “I’m Marlene’s daughter…I’m here for dinner.”
The woman’s face brightened, and she gestured her inside. Leigh knew to remove her heels—no one walked on her mother’s priceless butter yellow and cream fleur-de-lis Aubusson rugs. It was a relief to take them off.
“Send her in.” Leigh heard her mother’s voice from the living room, acting like Leigh was more of a business visitor than her daughter. There was another voice, one she couldn’t place. It was definitely male but didn’t sound like her father. She started down the pristine white hallway, her bare feet quiet on the black-and-white marble floor, cool beneath her soles.
“I had so many billable hours, it was like a gold mine.”
Leight froze in her tracks, took a hard breath, and closed her eyes. The rush of anger was so visceral she almost turned on her heel, grabbed up her shoes, and left. But she couldn’t do that.
Rodney Mumford. Dear God, didn’t her mother ever stop meddling in her life?
Rodney had been one of her colleagues from Jackson, Collier, and Mumford, Leigh’s first place of employment. He had also been her fiancé. Past tense. That was, gosh, almost eight years ago. She heard he got married…and divorced. He and his dad were old friends of the family, which was another reason she wanted to leave the law firm. She didn’t feel she had gotten the position on her own merits.
Her mother had crowed about her good luck to land at such a prestigious law firm and to bag Rodney who was one of the partners’ sons. But a week before the wedding, she had been trying on her dress, and she’d broken out in hives, hyperventilating so badly, à la Carrie Bradshaw style, that her maid of honor, Bess Cummings, had to make her sit down and push her head between her knees. Leigh had bolted. Thank God not at the altar, but she’d flown out that night to her family’s Aspen vacation home, and she had called Rodney to tell him that she couldn’t go through with it. She had denied everything about herself to make everyone happy except herself, ignoring the whole thing had caught up to her. In between treatments of calamine lotion, she had also typed up her resignation at the same time she’d put in a job application for the ADA position in Boston.
She swallowed hard. It was bad enough that she would have to endure her parents, but adding Rodney onto this crappy sundae was the cherry on top.
She turned around, bypassed the maid, and returned to the foyer, slipping into her heels. She refused to face either of them barefoot. To hell with feeling vulnerable and her mother’s goddamned rugs.
Ignoring the maid’s scandalous and shocked expression, Leigh walked briskly back toward the living room, her heels snapping against the floor. The maid put her hand on Leigh’s arm. “You go, girl,” she said, then melted away as her father chose that moment to step out of his study, a glass of scotch in his hand. Leigh suppressed a laugh at the unexpected bonding with her mom’s employee, knowing all too well what she must go through every day.
Mitchell Waterford was tall and slim with a full head of sandy blonde hair and the distinguished appearance one would associate with a politician. He was a legend in corporate law, and she was the spitting image of him.
He smiled at her, but she always got the feeling that there was something missing in her father, something that made him…relatable. She could never put her finger on it. Maybe she didn’t want to think of her father as shallow. That uncomfortable feeling got shrugged off as she smiled back and embraced him.
“Well, where is she?” her mother demanded of the poor maid.
“Ma’am—” she stammered, and Leigh released her dad.
He winced and whispered, “Let’s face the beast in her den.”
That made Leigh laugh softly as she nodded and preceded him into the luxurious living room. Almost ostentatious, but with an elegance that stretched to all corners of the residence, the historical home had been decorated in a way that was dramatically stylish and full of affluence and wealth, with expensive pieces of furniture like the baby grand piano nobody played, to rare, collectible art no one understood and antiques no one could appreciate, the marble flooring, no warmth there at all, and of course the precious Aubusson rugs no one could walk on throughout the downstairs.
She had to admit that her favorite part of the house was the chef’s kitchen, encased in an English glass conservatory, opening directly to the sweeping gardens outside with a gracious stone terrace and fountain.
The moment her mother saw her, she frowned. “Oh, Leigh Ann. You look so stuffy in a suit. Why didn’t you wear something more feminine?” She sounded so disappointed. Her mom’s eyes roamed over her face. “And, peach lipstick doesn’t really flatter your complexion, especially with your return to your natural, brassy hair color.”
Leigh gritted her teeth at her full name. She’d dropped the Ann after law school, worrying that she sounded like some perky, empty-headed blonde. She wasn’t going to get defensive and defend her clothing. It was a trap. If Leigh had worn a dress, her mother would have commented on how unflattering it was or that it was overly fussy.
Biting her tongue, she walked across the carpet and bent down, giving her mother a perfunctory hug. “Happy birthday, Mother.” Leigh looked at Rodney and said, “Hello, Rodney, it’s been a while. It’s good to see you,” she said, hating that she sounded as phony as her mother.
Dinner was stilted and uncomfortable with Rodney filling the gaps with his tales of conquest in the corporate world. Her mother dismissed the beautiful antique cameo Leigh had gotten at a shop in San Diego as quaint but generic. Leigh couldn’t be more thankful that she lived all the way on the West Coast, and she didn’t have to endure these dinners anymore.
She slipped away to the garden after the cake was cut. Leigh was sure her mother would make her usual comment about how sweets sit right on the hips while patting Leigh’s shoulder. The night was beautiful, but a tad chilly, and she was happy she wore a suit instead of something more feminine .
At the muffled footfalls, Leigh turned to find Rodney coming down the slate stairs. She wished she could just disappear. “Hi, there,” he said as she turned around to hide the grimace on her face. “Nice night.”
She nodded, schooling her features as he came abreast of her. He cleared his throat, a definite sign that he was nervous. He made the same noise when he proposed.
“I’m glad to see you here. I wanted to get in contact with you. I’ve missed you.”
Leight turned toward him unable to hide the shock on her face. “It’s been eight years, Rodney. You’ve gotten married and divorced, and I moved on after our broken engagement.”
“One you broke,” he said, sounding petulant. God, she had dodged a bullet back then.
“We were meant for different things.”
“But that could change. We could rekindle our?—”
“I don’t think so,” she said sharply. “I live all the way?—”
“You could move back here, take up a position at the firm again,” he said with a smile. “My dad is prepared to rehire you.”
Flabbergasted by the suggestion, as if she had been pining for him all this time without even one shred of evidence to back it up, not to mention the selfish motivation in having her move from San Diego, was outrageous…then it dawned on her. “Did my mother put you up to this? Bombard you with all those memories of us together, apparently happy. How we could merge our families.”
The look on his face would be almost comical if she was amused by her mother’s manipulations, but it solidified her suspicion. Suddenly her cell buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket and saw an email regarding a break in the Angel Alzate case. The CIA had discovered after targeting a money man that he had ties to the cartel. This was wonderful, one step closer to justice.
“Leigh—”
“I’ve got to go,” she said. Leaving him in the garden, she went into the house. Her mother was lingering in the kitchen, so suspect, since she hadn’t cooked a meal in Leigh’s memory.
“I’m leaving. Something came up at work.”
Her mother’s face slipped into more disappointment, crestfallen that Leigh was leaving.
“Work? But didn’t Rodney talk to you about?—”
“Yes, Mother, he did. Thanks for the blindside ambush, by the way. After all these years, do you think I’ve worked this hard to return to corporate law? Doesn’t it mean anything to you that I’ve been sworn in as a US attorney? It’s a prestigious?—”
“You’ve wasted your time in—” Her face contorted in disgust. “—public service, low paying, uninspiring jobs. Dangerous jobs. How can you not find Rodney’s proposal attractive?”
Leigh laughed heartily. “What? I broke out in hives, Mother. He isn’t the man for me, and corporate law will never be something I consider for my future.” Her voice caught. “Do you even have any idea what happened in San Diego?”
“Yes, it was horrifying, and distasteful.”
“Distasteful? Betsy Marlowe, the former US attorney was murdered along with our whole task force. They deserve justice.”
“You and justice. What a crock. You belong in the family business where it’s safe.”
“Safe? Do you think that happens on its own? We are the machine that generates that safety. That’s why you can keep your money and make as much, legally, as you want without someone taking it from you. We put the worst offenders out of business. What I do ensures the safety for everyone in my district, as do all the US attorneys in all the states. Do you think DC wouldn’t fall to crime and violence if it wasn’t for our judicial system?”
“Let someone else do it, Leigh Ann,” her mother said.
“No. Betsy deserves justice and I’m going to see this case through until the end. Nothing is going to deter me. Not even your machinations.”
“Leigh Ann!” her mother called, chasing after her, but when Leigh got to the door, she didn’t hesitate, the potential of that lead burning all the way through her.
“David, what is this I see that you’re cutting me out of the investigation?” Leigh asked after storming into her boss’s office the next day. She’d emailed him with a request to be part of the team in Colombia who were on the ground there. She needed to be part of it, right at its heart.
“Leigh don’t be so dramatic. I’m not cutting you out.”
“You refused my request to go to Colombia.”
“I need you in San Diego, and it’s going to be very dangerous down there.”
“I don’t care about that, David, and you know it. Betsy deserves my expertise and experience on this case, not some judicial attaché who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”
His mouth tightened and his eyes went glassy. He left his chair and walked to the window. “I’m pulling out all the stops to bring these animals to ground.” He turned around. “I can’t risk losing you, too, Leigh.”
“It’s my job, David. Let me do it. Let me send a clear message to Angel Alzate that we will stop at nothing to bring him and his corrupt, violent organization to its knees. That we will protect the national security of the United States and the safety and health of the American people. They murdered my colleagues to protect a shipment of cocaine, and I want justice for them all. I can’t do that from San Diego. Send me to Colombia as your Special Judicial Attaché. I won’t let you down, David. I promise you that.”
“Dammit, Leigh. I should have known I couldn’t debate with one of the most silver-tongued prosecutors on my team.” He sighed. “You win, but I’m going to assign you a personal detail while you’re down there. I want your promise that you will listen to every word they say and follow their recommendations to the letter.”
“I promise, David. Give me protection, but that’s not going to change how hard I go at the cartel. I have a plan.”
“I understand that. Just take precautions. Once we begin dismantling that cartel, they’re going to hit back hard.”
She nodded. “I know.” There was some part of her that feared for her life. She wasn’t stupid or naive. They would come after her, but they couldn’t back down from this kind of fight whether in the street or in the courtroom. Leigh was determined to stand for the people who couldn’t stand for themselves. Her heart wouldn’t let her.
“What plan?” he asked, his mouth kicking up at the corner. “I’m not at all surprised.”
“It’s more mathematical than planning, but I think it will work.” She laid out her thoughts, and David was completely hooked into the course of action. He even gave her the budget to bring her expert aboard.She was thrilled.
Hours later after deplaning at El Dorado International Airport in Bogotá, Colombia, Leigh slipped into the limo that would take her to a briefing at the embassy. She looked out the window as the city flowed past. Drugs, guns, money laundering, rampant smuggling, and every form of vice and corruption between—Bogotá seethed with them all. No street was safe. Millions of dollars of illegal trade took place in its markets and warehouses every day, billions of dollars a year. It was a haven for criminals, from displaced rebels to cartel heavyweights. These days, terrorists from Hezbollah and ISIS, and the resurgence of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia-People’s Army or FARC-EP joining with the very active National Liberation Army or ELN. And she’d insisted on being the Special Judicial Attaché in the US Embassy in Bogotá, Colombia seemingly to handle extraditions, operational guidance and training, and be the DOJ’s representative, but she was really here to find and apprehend Angel Alzate.
Hazard watched the woman from his position on the centralized stairs leading up to the second level of the embassy and the place where the briefing was going to take place. She was standing in the lobby with her luggage as if she’d only arrived in Bogotá. She looked so damned familiar, but the hair threw him, a cascade of bright blonde flowing over her shoulders and cascading down her back.
His attention should be on the upcoming meeting. The CIA was going hard on Enzo Russo, and he and Skull had been licking their wounds from the beat down by the CIA Shadowguard women, Strekoza which meant dragonfly in Russian, a name that fit the tall, willowy, and lethal brunette, and Hummingbird. Small-but-deadly had fooled and bested two Navy SEALs, and Skull had been unusually broody about it. He always had this glower about him, but now it was downright a purple aura.
The woman turned around, and his heart skipped a couple of beats. He was riveted to her every movement, and the sight of her ass wrapped in a leather pencil skirt—an incredible ass and her legs heartbreaking—and the power heels she was wearing were nothing short of…dangerous.
But that sleeveless white blouse unbuttoned just enough to see the soft curve of her pale ivory breasts was much more the hot zone…the torture zone. He hoped the woman was leaving. He really did because he didn’t want to get his head fucked by panting after that beauty. He didn’t get distracted on missions, and this one was as serious as fuck.
But, hell, she was goddamned gorgeous.
And filled with fluid, female grace as she reached for a short black jacket hanging off one of the cases, slipped into it, and did something that held him mesmerized. She slid one beautifully manicured hand to her nape and dislodged her hair from the collar of the jacket, then tossed her head to settle all that blonde mass back into place.
Then she did something that made his whole body freeze in place, something only one of his personal detail females did: she touched the fine chain around her neck, in more of a nervous way, something Leigh Waterford had done when he was protecting her.
Fuck no! Anyone but her. Yet he could see now that it was her. She had changed her hair color, which had been what had thrown him.
Her next move, and he was so blindsided by it, was to look toward the stairs, and when she saw him, she smiled. It was a professional smile, not a personal smile. But it didn’t matter, it knocked him for a loop.
One long-legged, sweetly muscled calf stride after another, she walked toward him, her smile in place. “Hazard,” she said, “I’m so glad to see a familiar face. Could you point me in the direction of the conference room?”
“No,” he said, so decisively the surprise on her lovely face was pronounced. He switched gears to cover up his visceral reaction. “Let me escort you.”
Her features evened out. “I guess that’s a good thing, since I believe you’re going to be detailed to me again.”
He grabbed her cases and started up the stairs, working hard to keep his poker face at having to work with none other than US Attorney Leigh Waterford.
The brief was short as they were still working the HVT for intel on the cartel. Just information about watching their sixes and introducing Leigh to the team. Skull gave him a sidelong glance. He’d done nothing but complain about the woman during his detail, and Skull had been his sounding board.
After the meeting, Leigh was on the phone at the front of the room. As the guys filed out, Hazard waylaid Iceman.
“Do you think it’s a good idea for her to be here, Ice?” Iceman looked back at Leigh.
“She’s a Special Judicial Attaché and will be lending her expertise and operational guidance to the team with the goal of ensuring we keep to the letter of the law and Alzate gets extradited to the US to stand trial for mass murder.” Iceman appeared like he always did. Imperious, cold, and completely stone-hard serious. “And when she’s out and about, you will be her bodyguard just like you detailed her when she was in San Diego.”
“Copy that, boss.”
Iceman narrowed his eyes. The man missed nothing, and he had a grudging respect for that, but it was a pain in the ass when Hazard wasn’t exactly being truthful. “Why don’t I believe you, petty officer?”
His boss always encouraged them to speak their minds. He turned toward Iceman and lifted his chin. “She’s hard to deal with.”
“Find a way.” Hazard took a hard breath, and Iceman’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to like it, Hazard, but I expect you to do your job.”
“To the best of my ability, but the situation here is so iffy?—"
“The attorney general is on the warpath. He wants justice no matter the sacrifice. He’s furious that Alzate took out his whole Southern District Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force, and murdered one of our sailors, along with others indiscriminately. He feels responsible for all those lives. He can’t be reasoned with, and for that matter, neither can Leigh Waterford. She’s determined to be part of this, and our orders from the DoD are crystal clear. She’s going to be embedded with us. There’s no way around it, and you will need to get onboard.” Hazard clenched his jaw, and Iceman’s eyes narrowed. “Is there another reason you’re balking at this?”
“Besides the possibility of sexual assault or a torturously terrifying and brutal death?”
“Yeah, besides that.”
Hazard knew that Iceman was much too observant to miss any of the signs once Hazard was in direct contact with Leigh…scratch that…in the same vicinity of her, better not to think about any kind of direct contact.
He’d avoided that all the while he was guarding her, not that she even noticed his struggle. “Because regardless of the fact that she’s a pain in my ass, opinionated, courageous beyond a fault, and more difficult to deal with than a prickly pear cactus, she’s goddamned beautiful, and she isn’t even aware of it.”
For a moment, that cold demeanor left Iceman and he actually looked sympathetic. “Deal with it, Hazard, like a professional, or not. I fucked up, and it was the best fuck up of my life. I ended up with Rose.”
Iceman slipped out the door leaving Hazard standing there. Right , he groaned. If their boss, a man named Iceman couldn’t resist, what chance did Hazard have?
Leigh finished her phone call, and she looked so damned tired. He relented, headed her way, and grabbed up the cases. He needed to get his head in the game and his focus straight. “Follow me.”
When she went to open the door, it closed with a slam. She eyed his hand against the wood and took a breath. “You have something to say to me. Don’t you?”
“Do you understand how important it is to listen to me and do what I say?”
“Yes, the attorney general made it quite clear to me. If I step wrong, I’m out of here.”
Hazard wasn’t done. “You’re a civilian, difficult as hell, and it’s a dangerous-as-fuck mission. You don’t belong in Bogotá…anywhere near that fucking animal—Alzate,” he bit out. His gut clenched with the thought of what could happen. “Do you have any idea what he could do to you if he gets his hands on you?” His voice got deeper, harsher. “You know he’ll make an example of you. He’s already killed government officials, showing us that he has no fear of us, no mercy,” he said fiercely. “You have no tactical or commando skills, ma’am. No training for this kind of monster. What is the attorney general thinking? Lawyers don’t belong in combat.”
She lifted her chin, and her gaze never wavered. “Well, you’re stuck with this lawyer, and I’m not leaving until Alzate is in custody or in a body bag. You can bet your ass on that.”