High-Risk Investigation. Jane M. Choate

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       ONE

      Nicco Santonni yanked at the too-tight collar of the starched white shirt. The tuxedo, a rental, felt like a straitjacket that at any moment might strangle him. He’d take a flak jacket or even the shalwar kameez—the traditional Middle Eastern baggy, pajama-like trousers paired with a long cotton tunic—over the monkey suit, but tonight’s job dictated formal wear.

      He had as much use for a tuxedo as he did for the glitz and glamour of the ballroom at Savannah’s premiere hotel, but a bodyguard went where his client did and tonight that meant showing up for a charity fund-raiser.

      He’d arrived early for the event. Another operative was watching the client in the hours before the gala began. Ranger to the core, he’d wanted to survey his surroundings. He didn’t like being taken by surprise. Constructing a grid pattern of the ballroom came first, followed by identifying any likely spots for a sniper attack. He didn’t expect to use his expertise in explosives or hand-to-hand combat tonight, but an operative for S&J Security/Protection never knew what he or she would be called upon to do.

      Protecting a client required finesse and a boatload of other skills, but protecting one who didn’t know she was being guarded presented the distinct problem of keeping close without giving himself away. Not for the first time, Nicco wondered how he’d ended up with a job he didn’t want.

      The answer was simple. Family. His brother Sal’s wife, Olivia, had asked that he protect Scout McAdams.

      Olivia had stressed that her friend not know she was under S&J’s protection until it became absolutely necessary. “I know Scout. She’ll tell you to get lost. But the letters she’s been receiving are getting scarier all the time. I’m worried.”