Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
The sun is coming up as I let myself out of Marianna’s house and lock the door behind me.
The first thing I notice is the way the light paints the orderly rows of agave plants. The second is the weird tugging sensation that walking away from Marianna’s house causes in the pit of my stomach.
Part of it’s guilt. Or maybe greed.
I could have woken her before leaving—and part of me wanted to, just because I’m hungry for more of her time—but I didn’t want to disturb her. She needs the peace of sleep where no one is bullying her, hurting her feelings, or scaring her.
All of which makes me furious and makes me dead set on fixing what I can. That starts now with me talking to Vik.
As agreed upon, he’s standing by his car waiting on me. A man of his word, he’s right on time.
When I realized I couldn’t leave Marianna last night, he offered to pick me up. It wasn’t without a warning glare. The message was clear.
Fuck with her and you’re dead.
Today he looks more like an operator than a chauffeur, now dressed in a black T-shirt, black and gray camouflage pants, and combat boots. The expression on his face is even more serious than it was last night, which says a lot.
There’s a dangerous cocktail of exhaustion and something just bordering on adrenaline in me as I drop in the passenger seat. Something’s got him torqued up and I want answers. “What gives?”
Vik eyes me suspiciously as he climbs in, rocking the SUV with his weight, then slamming the door. “That’s my question.”
“You look like you’re either fighting indigestion or pissed off.”
“This is my normal face. Are you saying I’m ugly?”
I make an exasperated sound because when I’m running on no sleep my patience gets thin. “You’re missing my point. Something’s wrong, what is it?”
His reply is a question. “You guard her all night?”
Ah, there it is. He’s fishing for info.
“Yep.”
His brows slowly form a hard line. Oh yeah, he’s trying to figure out if I took advantage of Marianna’s emotional state. While I don’t like the look the behemoth is giving me, I admit, I’m happy that he’s looking out for her.
“I’m not a total dick. I’m more of a man than that.”
The hard lines around his mouth ease a fraction. “Does she know you stayed?”
I scrub my hands over my face feeling every one of the hours I’ve been awake. “No, she fell asleep as soon as she walked in and is still sleeping on the couch right now.”
He doesn’t say anything else. And I’m not sure he believes me that we didn’t have sex… because I might have assumed that he did if our positions were reversed. She is a beautiful woman.
But as much as I wanted to grab her off the couch and lose ourselves in her bed, I had a job that I take incredibly seriously—keeping her safe.
I prompt, “Now that we’re clear on that, what else is wrong?”
“I don’t like bombs going off when I’m in charge of security.”
I’ll give him that.
“You find anything?”
“Not yet.”
I exhale slowly as I relax back into the seat. “Do you think that Sylvester was the only target?”
“Maybe.”
His lips flatten and he keeps that lock on them until we arrive back at the mayor’s mansion. When we arrive, the air isn’t filled with salty ocean fragrance any more; it’s rank—tinged with the lingering smell of burning plastic. A charred pile of rubble, once Sylvester’s car, still blocks one of the driveways.
From the look of the number of cars that are on hand, the party is still going strong.
“Did anyone leave after the explosion?”
Vik steps out of the car and adjusts his shirt, his line-backer shoulders fighting the fabric. “Not dis crowd.” He snorts and looks around. “Too high or drunk to care.”
“Damn. Unbelievable.”
He pulls his rifle out of the backseat, checks the clip and slings it over his shoulder. “ Velcome to my world.”
Whatever that is.
The other guards have shed their suits and are dressed like Vik today. A few glance toward us. They’re working in dispersed teams, broken up in pairs, and from the looks of it, they are searching the grounds for explosives.
Eight hours after the explosion they’re still at it.
One team has a dog. The others appear to be using some kind of technology. Mighty sophisticated for the guards of a mayor of a small town in a country like Vandemora.
He sees my curiosity. “We brought our own equipment.”
“Where are you from?”
A slow grin splits the stony facade of his face. “If I tell you, I must kill you.”
“That’s so overused.”
He grunts, “It’s still a good line.”
With his Russian-like accent there isn’t much of a mystery where Vik’s roots are.
“I also won’t ask how you ended up working here. Mind if I look at the car?”
He chuckles darkly as he stalks off toward the other guards. “Suit yourself. Just don’t make mess if you get yourself blown up. Bloody bits are bitch to clean up.”
I take a few steps toward the charred remains, but stop and turn back toward him. “Vik, I have a question for you.”
He’s still as a marble column as I walk toward him, holding out my phone. “Have you seen this woman?”
Intelligent eyes scan the screen, then meet mine. “Who is dis woman?”
“A friend that’s been in the area and I need to find her.”
Taking my phone he angles the image for a better view. “Looks like mayor’s girlfriend, Cornelia.”
The woman who met me at the door last night.
“I know. I thought that too at first. But it’s not the same woman. There are subtle differences. Eye color, the shape of her nose, the angle of her jaw. But at first glance they could be related.”
When he passes the phone back, his gaze has hardened. “Who do you work for?”
“A private security company.”
I wait for his reply as the cogs turn behind his calculating stare.
“She’s missing, yes?”
I nod.
His gaze moves past me to the other guards. “I’ll let my team know.”
“Keep it discreet.”
“We are good at that.”
I have a feeling he and his team have plenty of secrets.
When I turn to walk off, he calls, “SEAL or Delta Force?”
With his accent it comes out—Zeal or Delta Vorce…
The question makes the hairs on my nape rise. I turn back toward him, but don’t reply.
His grin returns, cocky this time. “Never mind. I know. Watch your back, frogman. If Sylvester thinks you’re sniffing around his woman…”
He makes a slicing motion across his throat.
In a flash, angry heat sears through me. “He can bring it. And by the way, she’s not his woman.”
With a shake of his head, Vik mumbles, “Ballsy motherfucker.”
Fuck right, I am. Sylvester is the one that needs to watch his back. I tip my chin. “What can I say? Once you get a taste of danger it’s hard to walk away.”
“You want another job, you come talk to me.”
I shove my phone into the back pocket of my suit trousers—the same pair I had on last night—as I shake my head. “Thanks, but I’ve already got my hands full.”
“You don’t even know.”
I’m not sure what he means but I soon have a clue.
His expression darkens. “Have you talked to the mayor about Sylvester and Marianna?”
“What’s the mayor got to do with that situation?”
“Marianna’s the mayor’s daughter. And Sylvester’s the man she’s promised to.”