THE ORDER
Monday, April 17th 10:00 a.m.
The dead last thing Special Ops agent Aaron Chance wanted to do was play bodyguard slant babysitter to some spoiled little Twinkie heiress. Some fluffy-headed model.
Not that he’d been given a choice. His commanding officer, who was also the Twinkie’s father, had asked Aaron to hang out and keep an eye on his trouble-making daughter before she got her butt strangled or stabbed by some crazed killer.
An unofficial order couched in a pretty-please request.
Crap. How stupid was this chick anyway?
Obviously stupid enough to make herself a target for a serial killer on purpose. But why?
Nicole Edge was a supermodel, not a cop, a detective, or any other kind of trained personnel. So why would she risk her neck by taunting the guy in the press?
The woman had to have a screw loose.
Screw loose or not, this is the woman you’ve fantasized about for years. You should be thrilled, ecstatic even, that you get to spend some close-quarters time with this chick.
Not if she winds up getting herself killed. Besides, who wants to spend that much time with a nutcase?
You do.
She’s pregnant.
Yeah? So what? She needs help. The baby’s father isn’t in the picture.
That’s because the father was probably in another country where any sane man would be if his girlfriend pulled this kind of crazy stunt.
I wouldn’t. I’d be super-glued smack to her ass, protecting her and my baby.
Yeah, well, who says you’re sane?
Aaron could feel himself losing this conversation with himself and sighed. He’d cased Nicole’s house, her neighborhood, and pretty much everything else within a five-mile radius. So far, he’d seen nothing out of the ordinary.
Everything looked secure and peaceful. Her home was in a nice middle-class neighborhood near the beach, she had a nice middle-class house, and wasn’t that a surprise. He’d expected her to live in some secluded, hoity-toity house in the hills near La Jolla.
Man, he hoped like hell having some guy she didn’t know move in with her lock, stock, and barrel made her mad enough to take the next plane to Europe until San Diego’s psycho assailant was caught.
In his opinion, Europe was, by far, the best option for both of them.
Ugh. He’d rather be in some third world country dealing with terrorists or drug lords than dealing with some dizzy female with a death wish.
But nooo. Admiral John Edge had pulled him into his office earlier this morning with a smile--a smile precursored by a steely request...
Sitting rigid and tense across a wide expanse of mahogany desk from the admiral, Aaron frowned, not bothering to hide his anger or annoyance. “Get somebody else. I’m not playing watchdog to some supermodel just because she happens to be your daughter. Absolutely not. Nope. No way.”
For the last ten minutes, Admiral Edge had been soft-soaping Aaron and Aaron’s temper was inching up in degrees. He’d asked for permission to speak freely, not that he actually needed permission, but he’d asked as a courtesy, simply because he respected John’s position. The admiral might be his boss, but Edge allowed all his men to speak their minds. They were a team. More, they were a brotherhood.
“Aaron--” the admiral started.
“Dammit, John, no!” Aaron finished, and slammed a fist down hard enough to make the Lalique clock on the admiral’s desk jump. He wanted a piece of the Savior and he damn well fucking deserved it. After what the Savior had robbed him of-- “Jesus, John, if anyone has a right to go after this guy, I do!” He set his jaw. “Screw the babysitting. No way.”
Ice flashed in the admiral’s eyes and if Aaron had been a lesser man, he might’ve pissed himself right then and there. Instead, he stared back and waited.
“Perhaps I wasn’t clear, Agent Chance. I’m not asking.” The admiral leaned back in his chair with a squeak of leather and finally gave a long-suffering sigh. “You’re the most qualified person I’ve got. You came into EDGE from the Secret Service. No one else has that kind of background. Besides, you know the kind of world Nikki comes from.”
Yeah, he knew.
Once again, his past was biting him on the ass. “Nicole’s had plenty of bodyguards over the years, hire one of them.”
Edge shook his head, and for the first time in Aaron’s career, he actually saw the admiral’s eyes sheen. John pinched the bridge of his nose, and Aaron studied a loose paper clip until the older man got himself back under control.
Shit.
Admirals didn’t get emotional, they couldn’t afford too, and seeing his boss this upset sent off a big, fat, red alarm.
“You’re the only one I trust to handle this right.”
Oh, hell, he knew it. All that damn media coverage from Cassie’s death had really made Aaron look like he had a heart. Well, he didn’t. Not anymore. “What about the cops, the detectives, or even the feds? Surely there’s someone else who’s better qualified--”
“This is my daughter we’re talking about. I’m not putting her life in anyone’s hands but yours.”
“You have before.”
“She’s an heiress, of course I have. But she hasn’t had a bodyguard in years. Besides, those bodyguards were just a precaution, one her mother insisted on.”
“She might be safer with someone else.”
“She won’t.”
“I’ve got blood all over my conscience. I don’t think I’m the one who should--”
“I do.”
“Why in the hell did Nikki spout off like that? To the media no less.”
John looked away. Shook his head. “I can only guess. She found Ashley Grayson. They were friends. More than that, she...” He paused, sighed, leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk. “Hell, I don’t know. Let’s just call it her sense of ethics, principles, whatever.”
“Let’s call it like it is. A bunch of crap. We’re all loyal to our friends, but nobody willingly sticks a target on their forehead unless they’re forced into it, or just plain crazy.”
“You do it every day.”
“I’m trained to do it. Plus, my face isn’t plastered all over the damn world. Not to mention the fact that, hello, I’m a man.” Aaron came from a long line of chauvinists, not that he was one, necessarily, but the southern gentleman in him cringed at the thought of a female purposely putting her life in danger. “The Savior’s determined. And probably pissed beyond belief. He’s got two women who he thinks have flat out emasculated him. Do you have any idea of the hell Kincaid’s going to go through trying to keep Jessica Bentley safe?” Aaron shook his head. “Send Nikki to New York. Even better, send her to Paris or Milan.”
“I’ve tried. She won’t go.”
Aaron stood so fast he nearly knocked over his chair. “Dammit, she’s going to get herself killed!”
“Not if you move in with her until the Savior’s captured. Make her life miserable. Hell, you’ve got my permission to make her life more than miserable. Be a complete jerk. But I want you to keep her safe, or make her so sick of you that she’ll change her mind, take my advice and go on a nice, long, low-key vacation.”
Aaron hated being backed into a corner, but backed he was, ever so artfully, right against the ropes. He unclenched his jaw and thought, oh hell. The admiral had him by the balls and they both knew it. He wasn’t going to say no to his boss, and certainly not when it came to protecting a woman. Even if said woman was bound and determined to throw herself in front of a runaway train.
He just hoped like hell he was the right man for the job. Cassie had had faith in him too, and she’d paid for that faith with her life.
“You’re telling me you want me to move in with your daughter and make her so miserable she’ll call it all in and take off to parts unknown?”
“That’s about it, yes. Except for
one thing.”
Aaron raised his eyebrows, waiting for the next pain-in-the-ass catch.
“I’m not going to butt into your sex life, Agent Chance. But remember, Nikki is my daughter.”
Aaron nodded, thinking no shit. As if he’d even consider the notion of having sex with the admiral’s daughter. Just because he was going to get up close and personal with the world’s hottest wet dream didn’t mean he couldn’t keep his pants zipped.
He’s her father, cut the guy some slack.
Slack. Right.
“Nikki fits the blonde and single scenario. Is she pregnant?”
The admiral looked surprised for the one second before his face went gray. “I wouldn’t have thought so. But…I guess…maybe she…Oh, God.” John scrubbed a hand over his face. “Hell, she must be.”
“Where’s the father?”
“Damned if I know. I didn’t even know she’d been seeing anyone on a regular basis.”
This scenario just got weirder and weirder. Too weird. Aaron tried for an out one last time. “Look, John. I want to see the Savior behind bars as much as anyone. I want Nikki safe. But the last time--”
“Cassie’s death wasn’t your fault.” Edge’s voice was quiet, sincere, and suddenly stern.
Aaron drummed his fingers on the desk. “Right. So the shrinks keep telling me.” Like some mind bender was going to erase two year’s worth of guilt in a few one-hour therapy sessions.
The admiral ignored Aaron’s sarcasm and continued. “On the upside, you’re quite good at pissing people off. Depending on how good, this whole thing may not last too long. Maybe Nikki’ll head for the airport an hour after you move in.” He shoved a piece of paper across the desk. Aaron picked it up. The paper had Nikki’s phone number and address on it and he stuffed it into his pocket.
Frustrated, Aaron gave the admiral a brief nod before he headed for the door. As he pushed into the hall he knew, without a single solitary doubt, he wasn’t going to like this.
Not one damn bit.