Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
V iper was assigned a desk in Blackthorn Security's headquarters' open-plan office. It was a wide, spacious area, surrounded by glass windows through which he could see the outline of the Washington Monument in the distance. It was a far cry from Fort Bragg, where he’d been based while in the Navy.
Thinking about it always left a pang. Hell, he missed it, but after being medically discharged, he couldn’t go back. Now, finally, he had a purpose again. Even if it did come in a five-foot ten bombshell of a package.
Based in the office were a handful of support staff. They laid the groundwork and provided intelligence and logistics for the operatives out in the field. Big screens showed satellite and drone images, flight and shipping data, and one woman sat with earphones on, gazing at a telephone transcript flickering across her computer.
It felt very much like the ops center back at the Naval Special Warfare base, just with air conditioning and better furniture. He logged onto the computer and pulled up Izzy's file. It made for interesting reading.
Apparently, her father was something of a legend in mining circles. He'd ventured into Mexico when nobody else thought it worth the risk. Regions with complex regulatory environments, but a wealth of untapped resources. Beaumont had grown up in Oaxaca, thanks to his parents being part of the U.S. diplomatic corps, stationed at the U.S. Consulate in Oaxaca, and consequently, had a feel for how things worked there. His methods weren't always orthodox, and there were rumors of bribery and palm-greasing, particularly in the more corrupt areas.
Viper arched an eyebrow. That was often the way in that part of the world. Despite this, Beaumont had navigated the challenges and significantly expanded opportunities for modern mining companies to set up operations.
Generally, his projects were welcomed due to the massive investment of capital in the region. Not only that, but he also developed infrastructure, including roads and port facilities, making it easier to transport materials from the mines to export points. He created jobs and launched initiatives to help the local communities, such as building clinics, schools, and ensuring a reliable water supply.
A maverick, but a good guy.
It seemed his daughter had inherited his solid work ethic.
Beaumont had died in a car wreck driving from the mountains of the Sierra Madre, where the mine was located, to the coastal city of Mazatlán. According to the police report, he'd lost control of the vehicle and driven off a cliff into a steep ravine. No chance of survival. The inquiry ruled it an unfortunate accident.
He’d never operated in Mexico itself, but he’d been on a few ops in Central and South America, and none of them had gone according to plan. In the SEALs, they had a running joke: don't get too attached to Plan A, because it was usually Plan B or Plan C that you ended up executing. Plan A was a best-case scenario, and in that part of the world, he wasn't sure such a thing even existed.
Richard Beaumont's death was a tragic loss, by all accounts.
Now Izzy was at the helm. From what he could gather, she wasn't all that interested in her father's company. She had her own empire to manage. Her face had lit up when she'd talked about the swimsuit shoot. It was clear she cared about what she did. There was no smile when she'd spoken about the mining conglomerate.
Viper read the death threats—scanned copies of the original letter-sized notes. Sent to the victim by mail, they contained several short, threatening sentences.
Montezuma is not your problem.
Back off now, before you get hurt.
You don't belong here.
The messages got more threatening and more desperate as they progressed. There were six in total, the last one being the most ominous.
You've been warned.
Montezuma. That was the name of the mine in the mountains of Mexico.
He took a deep breath.
Izzy had done well not to panic. She'd kept her cool, even with this hanging over her head. He was impressed by her toughness.
Next, he checked her Instagram profile. He didn't have an Instagram account, but he had buddies who did. Two of them were in the fitness industry, running military-style boot camps for civilians so it made sense to market online. Another manufactured military apparel, waterproof kit, and wet weather gear. Whenever he wanted to feel sorry for himself, he logged on and browsed their profiles.
Proof you could have a successful life outside of the military.
Proof he'd failed.
"Whoa!"
He blinked as a startling array of colorful photographs appeared on the screen. Hell, it looked like a series of shots from a glossy travel magazine. Izzy laughing as she stood by a low, stone wall overlooking an idyllic Tuscan landscape. An infinity pool with Izzy in a swimsuit staring out toward the horizon. Izzy standing in a cobblestone alleyway in an unpronounceable European town in a flowing peach dress.
Always coifed. Always smiling. Always stunning.
He zoomed in on one of the photographs, a particularly fetching one of Izzy in a white bikini with black straps, her body glistening in the sun, the ocean shimmering behind her.
"Hello, I’m Anna. You must be Viper."
He flushed, wishing he could close the browser, but it would be too obvious now. He had to brazen it out. Pretend it was research, which it was. A woman with blonde hair in a ponytail was smiling down at him. Anna? That was Cole's wife. He'd done a few ops with Cole back in the day. Great guy. Reliable as they came. The private security world was small. Around here, almost everyone had met or worked with everyone else at some point or another.
"Hi, great to meet you, Anna. Blade told me you worked here. Logistics, isn't it?"
"Yes, that's right. Cole was thrilled when Blade told him you were joining the crew. We're so glad to have you on board. I know you'll fit right in." She was so nice, she put him at ease. Any apprehension he'd felt at working for the prestigious Blackthorn Security dissipated.
Her gaze flickered to his screen. "Izzy Beaumont is amazing. I follow her account. She's pretty inspirational."
He arched an eyebrow. "She is?"
"Yeah, she built her own brand from the ground up. She started out as a social media influencer?—"
At his puzzled expression, she elaborated. "You know, someone who is famous for their lifestyle and fashion sense."
"Got it."
"But she always had a unique style. Her following grew, and soon teens around the world were trying to mimic her look. She does a great job of mixing haute couture with affordable mall fashion."
Whatever that meant.
"Then the top brands began to take notice, and soon she was a brand ambassador for a handful of designers and department stores. With the economy in the mess it's in, she was doing for them what retail no longer could. Then last year, she launched her swimwear line. Sexy, elegant swimsuits for real women.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I've got one—they're really flattering, actually. Anyway, the collection did so well, she's thinking about expanding into fashion. And she's got her own signature perfume. Silk, it's called. It smells incredible."
He wondered if that was what she'd been wearing in their meeting.
"She's certainly been busy." He turned back to the screen. Every photo had thousands of likes and almost as many comments. He could see why the brands loved her. "Two million, seven hundred forty-five thousand and fifty-three followers," he read.
"Insane, isn't it?" Anna shook her head. "But then the world needs style icons, especially ones who look like real women and not stick figures."
He studied Izzy's smiling face as she laughed into the camera, her head tilted back, long dark hair caressing the surface of the water. In this shot, she was standing waist-deep in the sea, her sun-kissed body gleaming, her glorious breasts rising above the bikini. The golden girl frolicking around in glamorous settings, living a life that other girls only dreamed about.
His principal. The woman he'd sworn to protect.
"Couldn’t agree with you more,” he muttered.