Determined to Protect, Forbidden to Love. Beverly Barton

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ news last night about Mocorito? She’d been in the kitchen making herself a cup of hot cocoa while the news was on and had returned to the living room just in time to catch the last snippets of the story. The presidential election was coming up in a few weeks and somebody had taken a potshot at one of the candidates. Yeah, that’s what it was. Some guy named Romero or Rodriguez. No, no. Ramirez. That was it.

      As the elevator zoomed upward, J.J. groaned. Surely that incident didn’t have anything to do with this new Dundee assignment. After all, why would a South American presidential candidate hire a security firm based in the U.S.?

      When the elevator stopped on the sixth floor, J.J. exited straight into the heart of the Dundee Agency, where she had been employed for the past three years. After leaving Mobile over six years ago, she’d traveled around the country on her FXR for a couple of years, picking up odd jobs here and there and trying to figure out who she was and what she wanted to do when she grew up. Then four years ago she’d wound up in Atlanta. Back in the South. But not the South in which her mother had been reared as one of the privileged Ashfords of Mobile, with hot and cold running servants, membership in all the exclusive clubs and an air of snobbery acquired over generations. No, Atlanta was part of the new South, having shed the past like a snake shedding dead skin.

      She had worked for nearly a year at a local martial arts studio, where she’d finally acquired her black belt. Although she’d enjoyed that job, it hadn’t been challenging enough for her. When she’d met an Amazonian redhead in a coffee shop near her apartment and discovered that the lady—Lucie Evans—worked for a private security and investigation agency based in Atlanta, she’d made inquiries about employment. Lucie had set up an interview for her the very next week, and, as luck would have it, one of their agents had just resigned.

      J.J. had taken to the world of private security like a duck to water. Being trained in the martial arts and having served in the army as a second lieutenant after graduation from college had helped her zip through the six-week training course that Dundee required. Being one of only three women agents at Dundee, she had expected some ribbing, maybe even harassment from the men, but what she’d gotten was acceptance and camaraderie. Even the CEO, Sawyer McNamara, had told her that her looks were deceiving, that she had shown everyone during her training sessions that she was more than qualified for the job despite being a petite bombshell. Sawyer’s comment had come shortly after she’d equaled his impressive shooting on the firing range. Her father had taught her how to use a gun when she was twelve and over the years, she had practiced relentlessly to perfect her skills.

      Daisy Holbrook, the office manager, also known as Ms. Efficiency, glanced up from her desk located in a glass cubicle in the center hub of the office complex and smiled at J.J.

      “Morning,” Daisy said. “Love the purple jacket. Is it new?”

      J.J. did a feminine twirl. “I splurged on this and a pair of boots to match.” She lifted her jean-clad leg high enough for Daisy, who leaned over her desk, to see the supple leather boots.

      “Don’t you look good enough to eat,” a deep masculine voice commented. “Like a delicious purple grape.”

      Laughing, both J.J. and Daisy turned to face Domingo Shea, Dundee’s Latin lover. Some women might take his remark as a sexist comment, but J.J. knew Dom well enough to take what he’d said as the compliment he’d meant it to be. Dom and she were friends, comrades-in-arms and drinking buddies who often played cards with several other agents on a fairly regular basis.

      “Well, good morning to you, too, Mr. Tall, Dark and Politically Incorrect.” J.J. grinned at the drop-dead-gorgeous Texas heartthrob. Dom was one of those men who took your breath away because he was so good-looking. Jet-black hair that he’d been wearing a bit long and shaggy lately only added to his macho appeal. And when he gazed at a woman with those sharp black eyes, more often than not she melted into a puddle at his feet. Then there was that body. God almighty, what a bod. Six-three, muscular and lean.

      “Are you here for the meeting this morning?” Dom asked.

      J.J. nodded.

      “Vic’s coming in, too, for the same meeting,” Daisy told them. “It seems he knows people in Mocorito from back in his spook days.”

      J.J. glanced at the clock on the wall behind Daisy’s desk. “We’re a little early. Is Sawyer here yet?”

      “He’s in his office with the door closed,” Dom said. “He’s holed up in there with Lucie. Some little disagreement concerning her expense account on her last assignment.”

      J.J. groaned. “There’s no such thing as a little disagreement between Lucie and Sawyer.”

      “No, with those two, it’s always all-out warfare.” Dom glanced down the hall toward the CEO’s office, which was behind the glass-enclosed office of his private secretary. “Who’s the guy sitting there in Ms. Davidson’s office? Somebody waiting for Sawyer?”

      “His name is Will Pierce. I figure he’s alphabet soup,” Daisy said. “FBI, CIA, DEA. Take your pick.”

      “Six of one, half a dozen of the other.” Dom, a former navy SEAL, knew as well as J.J. and Daisy that a good percentage of the Dundee staff, past and present, had come from various government agencies.

      “A new agent?” J.J. looked at Daisy.

      Ms. Efficiency shook her head. “We’re fully staffed at present and not looking to hire, unless Mr. Dundee decides he wants to expand the business.”

      “Any chance of that happening?” Dom asked.

      “How would I know?” Daisy smiled coquettishly, deepening the cheek dimples in her heart-shaped face.

      Dom leaned his six-three frame over the office manager’s desk. “Because, Daisy, my darling, you know everything there is to know around here. Don’t you realize we’re all aware of that fact that you’re the one who really runs the DundeeAgency and not Sawyer.”

      Daisy giggled. “That silver tongue of yours must come from a combination of Latin charm and Irish blarney.”

      Before Dom got a chance for a response, Sawyer’s office door flew open and Lucie Evans stormed out, tromped through Ms. Davidson’s office and came barreling down the hall, hellfire in her smoky brown eyes.

      “That man infuriates me!” Lucie paused at Daisy’s cubicle.

      “Like that’s a news flash,” Dom said under his breath.

      “What’s he done now?” Daisy asked sympathetically.

      Lucie took a deep breath, then let it out with a loud, exasperated whoosh. “Nothing he hasn’t done before and nothing he won’t do again. He’s questioning a twenty-dollar charge on my expense account. It’s ridiculous and I told him so. I’m sick and tired of this crap. I have half a mind to quit.”

      Dom laughed. “Now, Lucie, you and I both know that you are not going to quit, because that’s exactly what Sawyer wants you to do and you’d walk over hot coals to keep from letting him have his way, now wouldn’t you?”

      Lucie huffed. “Yes, you’re right. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of quitting.”

      “Besides, you enjoy making his life miserable far too much to quit and leave the man in peace,” Daisy added.

      Lucie СКАЧАТЬ