Tropical Safeguard (Men Of The Secret Service) (3 page)

Cole noted the man’s eagle-eyed stare.
His eyes were piercingly blue, like steel. He was weathered, yet his chiseled
jaw and broad shoulders indicated a man who was once a force to be reckoned
with. Internally chuckling at his unnecessary intensity, Cole agreed.

“Good. Follow me then. I think we should
start at the front and work our way around the back.”

“And then we can break for lunch,” Cole
interjected.

“The entourage will eat first, we’ll eat
in shifts.”

Cole bit his lip. Who did this guy think
he was? Cole usually had assignments with men who knew him better than anyone;
men who knew the way he would operate before he did,
his team
.
 
The lack of familiarity made working with a stranger an
incredible strain on his patience.

They retraced their steps and began their
sweep at the front door. After checking the location of each outdoor
surveillance camera, each motion-detector, and each exit, the agents got into a
golf cart. With Agent Kensing at the wheel they rounded the outskirts of the
property checking for anything suspicious. Cole found the entire procedure
arduous, but he also knew it was necessary. This was, after all, an assignment
– even if Agent Kensing executed overkill.

They crossed the green golf course at the
back of the mansion, weaving their way toward the pristine water. Located on
ten acres of prime oceanfront land, the property had its own private beach in a
sheltered alcove with natural rocky walls. As the agents skirted the alcove’s
edge, Cole looked down and spotted two figures sitting cross-legged in the
sand. “Two people, down below,” he said over the drone of the cart’s motor.
Agent Kensing aligned the golf cart with the switchback staircase that led to
the beach.

“Do you mind checking it out? My back’s
not what it used to be and that’s a lot of stairs.”

“Sure,” Cole said, keeping the peace.
Hopping out, he made his way down as the blazing sun beat on his head and
shoulders. With Agent Prickly’s impatience, he hadn’t had time to change out of
his suit and sweat trickled uncomfortably down his collar. The wide cedar
stairs were weathered and smelled aromatic is the baking sunshine as he gripped
the rail and moved onward. Stepping onto the soft golden sand, he felt the
grains seep in between the laces of his dress shoes, which were now covered in
a fine dust he’d have to contend with later. Being from Manhattan, he was more
at home on asphalt and concrete than on a beach.

In the distance, the two women sat facing
each other. Their eyes were closed and their hands rested in their laps. As
Cole walked toward them, the older woman facing him opened her eyes and leaned
over to speak to the woman with her back to him. Craning around with interest,
the woman stared, but the sun was in her eyes. Cole watched as she stood up and
turned to face him. She began walking toward him, keeping her hand across her
face to block the sun’s glare. As she drew closer, his mouth fell open at the
oncoming vision, her beauty catching him completely off guard. He admired her
petite, lithe frame as she walked with purpose and met him halfway. They
stopped within arms length of each other and she brought her hand down. Her
gorgeous face was naturally sun-kissed with freckles and she had an air of
effortless elegance about her. Cole was instantly drawn to her magnetism. Cute,
yet sexy – a lethal combo.

“Yes?” she said.

Not exactly the introduction he’d
expected. She seemed leery, cautious. Cole’s gaze slid down the length of her
body,
really
noticing her, and she visibly squirmed in discomfort. “Miss, I’m Agent Nielsen
and that’s my partner, Agent Kensing.” Cole absently pointed toward the cliff.

She looked up, spotting the golf cart.
“Okay, hello,” she said abrasively.

Affronted, Cole tried to fix things.
“Sorry, I just wanted to introduce myself and meet the staff. We’re following
protocol by sweeping the grounds.”

“Oh,” Katrina nodded. “Okay. Carry on
then.”

“Pardon?”
 
“I said carry on. I’m sorry, did I
say the wrong thing?” Katrina stood a little taller, staring him down through
squinted eyes.

For the first time in as long as he could
remember, Cole was at a loss for words. He wasn’t accustomed to being dismissed
like this. Usually people were on their best behavior around the agents,
cooperating to the fullest and trying to portray themselves as good citizens.
Cole always came away from an experience with the average person feeling
superior without even trying to be. Not this time. From the moment she spoke,
this spitfire was in command. For such a tiny person, she brimmed with
confidence. And her beauty – he had never seen anyone so beautiful, ever,
and Cole had met his share of beautiful wealthy women. There was something
about her that seemed familiar, kinetic.

“Agent Nielsen?” she asked.

Cole suddenly realized he was gawking.
She stared back, probably thinking he were a few bricks short of a load. “Uh,
huh?” he said.

“I’m going back then,” she thumbed over
her shoulder. “Is that it?”

“Yes, yes, sorry.” He watched her turn
and saunter away, feeling foolish. When he finally snapped out of his trance,
he realized he hadn’t asked their names. Since the women were seated in the
sand again, he thought it best to save the rest of his inquisition for later.
The last thing he wanted to do was anger the sexy brunette. Then again, it may
be interesting to see her reaction. He always like watching fireworks. Instead,
Cole climbed the stairs and stood beside the golf cart. He looked back at the
women, running a strong hand through his fair hair, lost in thought.

“Well, who are they?” Agent Kensing asked
as Cole took his seat.

“Just staff. Nothing of interest.” Though
Cole was very interested indeed. “And?” Agent Kensing also looked at Cole as if
he were a little slow. Cole didn’t answer. “And?” he asked again more
forcefully.

“And they were in the middle of
something. Some sort of meditation session.”

“Names?”

Cole looked at Agent Kensing who had
pulled away from the cliff and was driving back toward the mansion. The veteran
agent’s lips were thin and pursed as if he were disappointed in Cole’s lack of
information. The man had a knack for making him feel inadequate and this was
only the first day of their assignment. Cole was a grown man for goodness sake
and an excellent agent, so he’d been told. He didn’t deserve this kind of
treatment from
Agent
Prickly
. Hell no. Cole turned slightly to face his colleague, his tone
conveying his frustration. “Listen, they’re staff. I didn’t get their names.
They were in the middle of something.”

“Easy, Agent Nielsen, easy. I’m just
asking. I saw you talking to one of them. She looked quite approachable from
where I was sitting. Not a bad view from that distance. How was the view up
close?”

Cole was annoyed by Agent Kensing’s
sudden shift in questioning. He’d softened his approach, perhaps realizing he’d
been unnecessarily harsh. Choosing not to engage him, Cole looked in the other
direction and ignored the question. This left Agent Kensing laughing aloud, his
smokers cackle echoing over the lawn. He’d officially gotten under Cole’s skin.

Back at the mansion, Cole jumped out of
the golf cart as it came to a stop in the designated spot. “I’m heading in for
lunch,” he said firmly, leaving no room for debate.

“I’ll join you,” Agent Kensing walked at
his heels. “Then we can discuss shifts.”

“Fine.”

They opened the side door and the
heavenly smell they’d experienced on their arrival had intensified. Cole was
down right starving. They passed through the hallway and as they did, Cole
noticed the dignitaries and their families through the window that overlooked a
sprawling patio. The Deputy and his wife were seated across from Secretary
Mitchell and Jimmy with the other two boys at either end of the table. The
group had already started their meal.

Cole and Agent Kensing continued on
toward the kitchen. Turning the corner, they arrived to find Damien the
chauffeur and George the groundskeeper sitting at a long harvest table. A
robust man with a flushed face was moving back and forth behind the island
serving up their plates.

“Ah, the agent men have arrived. Bonjour!
I am Jacque, the chef for the Winters. Please, have a seat.”

Both agents nodded, slipping into the
nearest chairs. They introduced themselves to the three men.

“Where is the other driver?” Agent
Kensing questioned Damien.

“He was just hired for the pick-up. He
lives down the street with his family and is called if needed.”

“And how long have you been employed
here?” Agent Kensing asked George, the elderly groundskeeper, as he tucked in his
chair.

“Nine years, since the Winters first
arrived,” George responded in his Bermudian accent as if on cue. The weathered
old man sat up taller, probably feeling like he’d entered the military. Cole
shook his head. “I come up to the house once in a while for a meal. Most times
I stay in my little house out the way there.”

“That’s your place at the corner of the
property?”

“Yes.”

“Is it secure?” Agent Kensing was on a
roll.

Cole shook his head again. He could see
the atmosphere in the room turn from relaxed to uptight thanks to his
colleague. “Thomas, perhaps we should let this information present itself over
lunch.”

Agent Kensing shot Cole a look of
surprise. “I’m just doing my job here, Agent Nielsen.”

“Okay, men, lunch is served.” Jacque
approached the table and placed warm plates in front of the agents. He hoped
the action would clear the air. “I’ve told the ladies to be on time, but they
are not here, so we eat.”

As soon as Jacque spoke the words, the
side door opened and the two women from the beach walked in.

“Ah, and they are here.” Jacque wagged a
finger at the spitfire, clucking his tongue.

“Sorry we’re a little late,” she said,
walking around the island. She quickly washed her hands.

Cole felt that pull again as his eyes
followed her despite his efforts to look away. He was grateful for the activity
going on around them. Perhaps no one would notice him stare. She took a seat at
the harvest table opposite him and he felt his stomach lurch at her proximity.
How was he supposed to eat when confronted with such a stunning view?

                                   
<><><>

Katrina
felt the tall agent’s eyes on her. On the beach, he’d been visibly
uncomfortable in his suit as he’d tugged at his collar, sticking out like a
sore thumb – a
 
masculine,
mythological god of a sore thumb. In the bright backdrop, he looked like a
modern day Thor. The sun’s brilliance had made his fair hair look angelic and
golden. She’d had put a hand up to cover her face again – to get a better
look.

Katrina glanced around before finally
bringing her gaze squarely on him. Their eyes locked and she held his lengthy
stare as if challenging him until he looked away. As he did, she continued her
visual scan. She found him extremely attractive. Even so, her first impression on
the beach caused her some apprehensive. He’d been distant, a man of few words,
and his eyes had overtly devoured her. Despite his good looks, she couldn’t
trust him, even if he was a secret service agent. He was also a man, and men
weren’t to be trusted, especially strangers.

Katrina pulled in her chair and unfolded
her cloth napkin, fully aware of his eyes on her again. She felt the energy,
the draw, and it forced an unexpected flutter in her belly. “Agents,” she said
while draping her napkin over her lap. She stared back briefly until he looked
down at his plate, a small trace of a smile pulling at the corners of his full
mouth. Thor. Why did this comparison stick? And yet, what was it? After closer
inspection, there was something about him that seemed vulnerable, as if a layer
of discretion hid beneath the surface. He seemed much more polished and preppy
than on the beach earlier.

“Where were you two?” Damien asked her
between mouthfuls.

“I was giving Gloria a stress-relieving
meditation session. She just learned her daughter’s in love so it’s game over.”

Damien laughed. “My daughter’s only ten
and she says she’s in love with a boy in her class. They grow up so fast.”

“You’re telling me!” Gloria sighed. “My
husband says it’s only a matter of time before I’m a Gammy.”