Chapter Three #2
Nash twisted around when someone spoke from across the room.
Devon turned her head to see a man and a woman standing there, fully armed and wearing outfits identical to Nash’s.
The woman was a Latina beauty with insanely gorgeous hair, but the man was almost prettier than she was.
He was about six feet tall with golden hair cut short and neatly fashionable, and dark, almost black eyes.
He looked more like a model than a soldier, even though he was clearly the latter.
With a Roman nose, chiseled lips and cheekbones, he probably melted hearts everywhere he went.
The body he maintained in order to perform his job only improved the package.
Plus, the mischievous smile and amusement dancing within his eyes instantly made her want to return his good humor.
Devon realized what she and Liam must look like.
When Nash merely turned back to what he’d been doing, she was momentarily impressed with his composure.
But that was only until she realized the so-called hard ass soldier was flushing slowly from the neck up, and she bit her lip as she stifled a giggle.
His eyes shot to hers and he gave her a look that could have killed even a Morphate.
“Gordon, we got a medpack in the Hummer?” he asked evenly.
“Of course,” Gordon snorted as if he couldn’t believe Nash had asked such a thing.
“Bring it up.” He added sharply, “Double time!”
Devon watched as the man and woman exchanged looks of humor, but the male did move quickly out of the room to obey the order.
“Devon Candler, this is Inez Flores,” he introduced without looking at his coworker, but raising a hand to beckon her forward.
“Flores, this is Devon Candler. Ms. Candler was assaulted not too long ago and has a healing gunshot wound to the thigh. She fell and has re-injured herself. Could you take a look please?” Nash turned to Devon.
“Do you mind? She’s an excellent medic.”
“I don’t, but I wish you wouldn’t make so much of a fuss.”
Nash just gave her a look that asked her to indulge him so she lay back with a sigh and tried to brace herself for the pain of more probing.
Flores kneeled beside her commander. “She’s already starting to swell,” Nash indicated softly as he turned Devon’s leg with incredible gentleness for such daunting looking hands.
She could feel the roughness of his calluses gliding over the skin along her inner thigh and she suppressed a shiver.
She had reacted the same way the first time he had touched her, an unexpected thrill from an unexpected source.
“It’s the exit side I’m worried about. How long ago were your stitches removed? ” he asked her.
Devon smoothed back her hair on one side and told him her first lie since they had met. “A couple of days,” she said vaguely. “Please, I wish you wouldn’t …”
His quelling glance worked. Devon’s heart danced with a flutter in her breast when he mastered her so easily in spite of her own assertive personality.
She was instantly fascinated, probably as he had been when he’d first seen her.
He’d been obviously taken aback, though she was certain he hadn’t realized how transparent his expressions had been.
She’d gotten used to the reaction from those who expected Devon Candler to be a man, or some sort of old gray warhorse instead of a young, thriving beauty, but there was something more to Nash’s response than there was with others. She’d been studying him ever since.
“No bleeding. Not at the edges of the wound anyway. The bruising isn’t darkening yet so I don’t think she tore anything inside,” Flores mused as she gently probed from one side of the wound to the other.
“Too soon to tell for certain, but nothing more than swelling as far as I can see. Actually, it looks pretty good for a recent injury.”
“I’ve always been quick to heal,” Devon dismissed easily, finally losing patience and brushing away the hands touching her leg.
She sighed with relief when she was able to pull the skirt of her gown back into place.
She didn’t sit upright, however, her leg too sore now to withstand the pressure of sitting directly on it.
As if reading her mind, Nash picked up a pillow and placed it under her calf and knee, raising her thigh from the couch and supporting the weight of her leg, instantly making it feel even better.
Soon after that, the fair-haired Mr. Gordon came bounding back into the room, breathless enough to have run the entire way back and forth.
He handed a nondescript black box she assumed was the med kit to Nash, who laid it on the ground and popped it open.
Gordon stood with feet braced and arms across his chest as he watched his commander pull out a white chemical pack.
Nash crushed it in one hand and shook it rapidly to combine the chemicals that would cause it to become instantly cold.
Then he pushed it under her elevated thigh.
“Let me know if that’s too cold. We can put a towel between the pack and your skin,” Nash said as he closed the kit.
Flores had risen to her feet, but Nash remained kneeling beside her.
“So tell me something,” Nash asked thoughtfully. “Who is currently doing security for you? You have to have someone manning those cameras.” He paused. “You do have someone, don’t you?”
“Of course. I have two private guards for the interim. Once you bring your people in here, all security becomes your domain. My only exceptions are the obvious. No cameras in my bedroom, private sitting room, or office. No personnel inside any of those places, even on rounds, when I’m not present at the manor.
I deal with a lot of sensitive documentation and it’s out of the question when it comes to confidentiality.
You can do whatever you like surveillance-wise along the boundaries of those rooms, but nothing that views the interiors through the windows or doors.
“You’ll also have to maintain surveillance on my offices at Candler International.
That’s here, London, Japan, and Kuala Lumpur.
I have permanent residences in all those cities except Kuala Lumpur, where I stay at a hotel, but I will give warning of travel at least two weeks in advance if I can at all manage it, and you can have parts of my schedule up to several months in advance if you consult with Carter—”
“Okay, as to that,” Nash interrupted her with a staying hand, “I don’t want you planning your schedule beyond two weeks. Also, Spencer has your entire schedule on an unsecured smart phone. Anyone can take it and get your schedule in advance without even breaking a sweat.”
Devon’s eyes went wide with surprise at that bit of information. She was shocked that Nash had already made such a pertinent discovery for her benefit when he hadn’t even accepted the job yet. It impressed and pleased her, confirming she’d made an excellent choice in him, for many reasons.
“That shouldn’t be,” she said with a frown.
“Carter knows how finicky I am about securing all electronic devices. Specifically for this reason.” She began to tap her long nails against her thigh, realizing she was projecting her irritation, but not really caring.
A feeling of chilled trepidation crept through her and she began to nibble on her bottom lip.
She looked up into eyes of amber and found comfort in the fact that she could read his thoughts, and that they were following the same unthinkable path as hers.
“Carter has been in my employ for a very long time,” she argued softly, knowing that it was an emotional excuse and not a logical one.
“And yet, all of a sudden your enemies have incredibly detailed access to you that they shouldn’t have,” he reminded her gently, his hand resting over the top of her thigh in a dreadfully effective indication of her recent wound.
“Morphates don’t work with humans, though. They detest them,” she said, reminding him of the powerful prejudices between species. Yet, she knew it wasn’t universally true, just as she knew why her enemies could never send a Morphate in to spy on her undercover … or even to covertly assassinate her.
Because she was Morphate, Devon would have sensed one of her own kind instantly.
But that wasn’t information she was about to impart to one of the few men in the world who knew how to kill a Morphate.
The next day, Liam turned in his office chair to look down on the traffic moving through the compound drive.
As usual, someone was always coming or going.
The compound was a hub of activity from dawn to dusk, and beyond, if they were training in night tactics.
At the moment, his team was swarming around the equipment shed, gearing up for the initial installation at the Candler manor house.
Liam could see the warehouse from his window and the activity moving smoothly along.
After the main Candler residence was secure, he would send a team on to her primary offices and others to her secondary residences.
There was a helicopter and associated pads on the tops of her business buildings, and a private jet, also for convenience.
And secrecy, he noted. He was beginning to see why it was so easy for her to conceal herself when she barely set foot onto unfamiliar or uncontrolled grounds.
Securing the secondary and tertiary offices and residences would be organized according to Devon’s future plans to visit them. There was also a fleet of cars to take into consideration.
While she had been extremely open to all of Liam’s suggestions so far, Devon was finicky about her privacy in certain understandable ways.
He’d had no arguments with her so far, but he was certain to step on her toes eventually.
He invariably clashed with clients on the issue of where security ends and where privacy begins. It was inevitable.
And she most definitely was now his client.