Holding Fire Page 4

  “Twelve.”

  “See, Rose,” the eye-roaming older friend clucked. “I told you we got off on the wrong level. I may have cataracts, but I’m not completely blind.”

  “Absolutely nothing to worry about, darlin’,” Logan could be heard soothing them. “Y’all just tell me where it is you’re trying to get to, and I’ll get you there right quick.”

  Trey, Elle, and Rafe watched him lead the women away.

  “Am I the only one who can’t wait for him to meet a woman who isn’t so taken with that damn accent?” asked Rafe.

  “Definitely not,” Trey replied.

  Elle let out a soft snort. “Maybe it’s not so much the accent as it is his manners…as in the fact that he has them.”

  She tossed a scowl his way, making her meaning clear. Rafe smothered a chuckle before leading the way to suite 1202 and performing a series of elaborate knocks.

  “Seriously?” Trey arched a brow. “We have the entire floor on video feed.”

  Rafe lifted his broad shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “Boredom.”

  Vince opened the door. “What’s with the fucking musical routine?”

  “What’s with leaving two little grannies roaming the floor?” Rafe retorted.

  “I am not fucking with someone’s grandma. They would’ve given up eventually.” Vince stepped aside and led them into the small foyer. “Any problems leaving the airport?”

  Trey shook his head. “They had men inside, but not on the perimeter. We were probably already on the Parkway by the time they pulled their thumbs out of their asses and brought their car around.”

  Vince gestured for Elle to follow him into the next room. She took a hesitant step, then looked toward Trey. Her seeking his reassurance made him feel damn good.

  He nodded his encouragement. “You’re okay. I’ll be along in a bit.”

  “You, my friend, are an idiot,” Rafe said the moment Vince and Elle disappeared into the living area.

  “Don’t hold back, Ortega,” Trey said dryly. “Tell me what you really think.”

  Rafe pounded him on the shoulder and smirked. “That you’re a huge fucking idiot. You know that, right?”

  “Things wouldn’t be this fucked up if someone would’ve sent the goddamned file on time.”

  “And if you would’ve gotten it a week before, would that have stopped you?”

  Before Elle, Trey would’ve answered a swift yes. But she’d blown up his work ethics and made it damn difficult to think of anything but the time they’d spent together—and the fact that she found it so easy to dismiss.

  A year ago, he would’ve thanked the heavens for her view on mornings after. Now? Not so fucking much.

  Rafe, the fuck-wit, grinned like a damn lunatic and punched him on the shoulder. “This is going to be fucking fun.”

  Chapter Four

  Elle knew her father was somehow behind everything that had happened since stepping off the plane, and quite possibly before. That didn’t mean she expected to find him sitting at an elaborately adorned dining room table with a piping hot cappuccino—and her ex-fiancé.

  She blatantly ignored the condescending smirk James sent her way and focused on the once robust and domineering Senator Samuel Monroe. Her father looked…aged. During the six months she’d been in Thailand, gray hair had declared a war on his dark brown locks, and an entire family of wrinkles lined his mouth, a wonder since the man rarely smiled.

  Elle stopped a few feet shy of the table, making sure to keep a physical barrier between the two of them as she mentally summoned an emotional one. Going face-to-face with her father while metaphorically naked was never a good idea.

  One of his bodyguards stepped forward. “I’ll need you to put your hands on the table, ma’am, and spread out your arms and legs.”

  Sprawl facedown on the table and let herself be touched—for the third time today?

  She opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his body search, but Trey stepped forward, blocking the agent’s advance. “Hands to yourself or you’re going to be the one spread-eagle on that table.”

  The guard puffed out his chest like a peacock. “No one gets near the Senator without being thoroughly checked. His safety’s my responsibility.”

  Trey didn’t look the least bit impressed. “And her safety’s mine.”

  Trey glared at the bodyguard. The bodyguard glowered back at Trey. The suite door clicked open, and Logan rejoined them. The Marine’s gaze slid around the room. “Jesus, I was gone for, like, five seconds. What the hell happened?”

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” Trey retorted, not backing down. “Unless Big Shot here doesn’t back the hell off—then a whole lot of shit’s going down.”

  Rafe and Vince—the heavily tattooed man who’d opened the door—stepped closer. It was a good thing Elle wasn’t claustrophobic because being surrounded by all these over-sized men was starting to get out of hand.

  “We can forgo the search, Tom.” Elle’s father stood, reigning in his guard dog. “The only thing my daughter’s capable of hurting is my heart.”

  Zing. A direct shot straight through the chest in less than a minute. Time apart hadn’t affected his aim in the least.

  “I would’ve thought you’d look refreshed after six months away from all your responsibilities.” Samuel Monroe frowned. He looked her up and down with the Monroe blue eyes. Each visual pass tightened his lips a little more until he looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. “Did none of your mother’s lessons stick?”

  A few: Always carry Band-Aids in your purse. Nylons were a sadistic male invention. And never let him—meaning Elle’s father—see you sweat. The last Linda Monroe bit of wisdom had been passed her way when Elle was twelve, right before her mother lost her battle with cancer.

  “I was providing medical care to tsunami victims in Thailand,” Elle corrected him, despite the fact that he’d known exactly where she’d been and what she’d been doing. “I wasn’t lounging on the beach working on my tan. And it’s wonderful to see you, too, Dad. I’m doing okay, considering that I’ve been roughed up twice in as many hours. Thank you for asking.”

  “I already received the report that you were uninjured, Elle,” her father said curtly. He walked casually to the wet bar and poured himself a few fingers of whiskey. “If you would’ve returned calls or answered emails, you would’ve known to be careful upon your return from your little trip.”

  Do not show weakness. Be strong. Stand your ground.

  Elle fought the tremble of her hands and clenched them into tight fists at her sides. “Nowhere in any of those emails did it mention that I should expect men with guns to be waiting for me near the luggage carousel.”

  “Your father’s been worried about you, Elle,” James interjected. “We’ve both been worried. There’s no need to get defensive or be so flippant about our concerns.”

  Laying eyes on the jerk again unleashed the flood of emotions that had sent her away from New York in the first place. But instead of backing down like the old Elle, she lifted her chin and gave her ex a hard look. “Concerned? The two of you? Did you take up stand-up comedy while I’ve been gone? If either one of you have felt any kind of concern, it was for how my absence would affect your careers.”

  James’s stark shock at her remark gave Elle a jolt of confidence and encouraged her to continue searching for the real reason she’d been brought to one of her father’s known stomping grounds for schmoozing and hobnobbing.

  She turned her attention to her father. “Why am I here?”

  “For your safety.” His twitching left eye said otherwise.

  “Why am I really here?”

  A vein bulged at his temple, and his previously pale face went red. Six and a half months ago, she wouldn’t have questioned. She would’ve folded and made the peace like she’d done for nearly thirty years. Post-Thailand-Elle wasn’t so flexible.

  “You’re here to make an appearance at the charity gala tonight,” her father
finally admitted. “And it’s non-negotiable. Many of my supporters will be there, and I can’t afford to show anything less than the full support of my family—not with us heading into an election year. You will attend—on James’s arm—and you will smile and play the doting fiancée and dutiful daughter.”

  There was so much wrong with his little speech that she didn’t know where to start. Oh, yeah. She did. “I’m not going anywhere on James’s arm.”

  “Stop acting ridiculous!” Samuel hissed. Spittle collected at the corners of his mouth and his face went from red to purple. “This little spat between the two of you ends now. I refuse to let you ruin a young man’s life because of a simple, insignificant misunderstanding.”

  “I agree that it was insignificant—as in, I don’t care. But it’s a little difficult to misunderstand seeing your fiancé with his pants around his knees. It wasn’t like he was at the doctor’s office getting a medical exam.”

  Someone behind Elle chuckled.

  Trey cleared his throat. “Sir, in light of what happened at the airport, we’re going to suggest that you rethink your plan to have your daughter at the gala. It’s not safe.”

  Samuel knocked back his drink and filled his tumbler again. “Keeping her safe is why I hired your outfit a few days ago, is it not? Your boss led me to believe that your firm could handle anything. Are you saying that you’re incapable of a simple protective detail at an upscale, private event?”

  “We’re capable of handling any task we take on, sir. My problem is with you putting your daughter’s safety in jeopardy for a few photo ops,” Trey snapped roughly.

  Elle held her breath.

  Thirty years and she couldn’t remember a single time where someone had raised his voice to her father. She was shocked, awed, and more than a little impressed. And dammit, she was thankful. No one had ever stood up for her when faced with the wrath of Senator Monroe, and that tally sadly included her late mother.

  “I’m paying your company to perform a job, not spew lectures.” Her father attempted to skewer Trey with his stare before returning his attention to her.

  “Who did you offend this time?” Elle asked. If there was ever a point in time when her father hadn’t offended a group or organization and received some kind of threat, she’d be shocked.

  “It isn’t relative.”

  “Their guns looked pretty fucking relative to me,” Trey muttered, touching her arm. Her skin warmed from the contact, and her first instinct was to get closer. Those intense green eyes lasered in on hers, making her feel like she and Trey were the only two people standing in the room. “You don’t have to go to the gala, Elle. You shouldn’t be going.”

  “The hell she doesn’t have to go!” the Senator howled. That vein at his temple began pulsing.

  “Enough.” Elle stepped between her father and Trey. “I’ll do it,” she said aloud, “but there is no way on this earth that I’m stepping into that room with James—absolutely no chance in hell. So you can get that delusion out of your head right now.”

  “But James—”

  “Isn’t going to happen in a million years and a low male census.” She waited—and expected—her father to continue to argue. When he didn’t, she nodded. “Good. Then Logan’s going to be my escort.”

  “Say what now?” Trey asked at the same time her father bellowed a roaring, “Like hell.”

  Logan’s low chuckle slipped through the chaos. “I’d be honored.”

  Trey’s attention snapped to his friend. “Like fucking hell. I’m the lead on this assignment. I take point with the asset.”

  “The asset?” A red haze clouded over Elle’s vision. She narrowed her eyes and drilled him with a pointed glare. “If there’s anyone who’s being an ass in this situation, it sure as hell isn’t me.”

  “You can call me any name you want, sweetness, but if we’re going through with this fucked-up idea, then I’m going to be the one at your side. There is no other option.”

  Control over her and her life was all anyone seemed to want from her. She longed to make her own demands, to raise her chin and tell them all what they could do with their only options. Instead, she heard herself agreeing.

  She wasn’t caving, Elle told herself. She was doing what needed to be done so she could get her life back where it belonged—in her own hands.

  At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

  * * *

  After a much-needed shower and a tense phone call to Shay, where Elle spent nearly a half hour convincing her best friend to stay holed up in her parents’ vacation home, Elle adjusted the strapless, powder-blue gown that had been brought to the hotel room by her father’s stylist and looked in the full-length mirror.

  Less than a few hours ago, she was being jostled into the backseat of an SUV, and now she was prepping to be manhandled in an entirely different way—and she’d agreed to it. “What the hell was I thinking?” Elle murmured. “This was a bad idea.”

  “Sometimes the worst ideas are the most entertaining,” teased a melodic English accent.

  Elle smiled and turned just as Charlie, the petite blonde security operative, stepped into the room. “Then maybe we should be selling tickets. I’m sure we’d make a fortune on tonight.”

  “Love, this kind of entertainment is priceless.” Charlie tugged on the bust-line of her own show-stopping black gown and grimaced. “Bloody hell. If I have to run, the girls are going to make an appearance, and then I’m never going to hear the end of it from the guys. How the bloody hell do you move in these things?”

  Elle chuckled. “Carefully. I wasn’t joking when I said I missed my mosquito-repellent jammies.”

  Charlie gave her dress another yank. “And I miss my camo and boots. And what I wouldn’t do for a good, supportive sports bra right about now.”

  The two women looked at each other and laughed.

  “It’s about time.” Charlie gestured toward the door and led the way into the suite’s living room where Trey, Vince, and Logan waited.

  “Hot damn.” The flirty blonde cowboy belted out a whistle. “Lookin’ good, ladies.”

  “Lasso your eyes back in your head, Callahan,” Charlie warned sternly, but Logan didn’t appear the least bit deterred as he continued eyeing the gorgeous operative.

  Elle chuckled at how uncomfortable the other woman looked, and she understood all too well. If given by the right person, an appreciative gaze or sincere compliment could mean a lot. Given by the wrong one, it got old quick, a lot like these functions her father has been dragging her to for years. The magic of slipping into a beautiful down dissipated when it came along with expectations of perfection.

  “Do you remember the rules?” The question, asked from across the room, sent Elle’s attention toward the overstuffed chair.

  Trey stood when their gazes clashed. She nearly forgot how to walk. Double-0-yowza. Talk about perfection. A sleek black tux that did nothing to hide the broad width of his shoulders had replaced the battered jeans and long-sleeved T. And the scruff…

  Elle nearly shivered from the memory of those raspy stubbles rubbing against the sensitive skin of her neck…and her inner thighs.

  The room had gone quiet. Elle took a quick look around her and, thankfully, all eyes were on Trey in varying forms of disapproval—except for those of Trey himself, who was still waiting for an answer.

  “Rules,” Elle repeated. “Smile. Flirt. And play dumb. Oh, wait, you didn’t mean Sam Monroe’s Rules of Butt-Kissing.”

  Charlie laughed and then rolled her eyes when she was the only one. “Sometimes I think the high loads of testosterone prevent them from having a sense of humor.”

  “I grew up in a house without any humor, so it’s not a new experience for me.”

  Trey shifted his glare between the two of them. “Are the two of you done treating this like some kind of fucking game? Because I’d love nothing more than to scrap this entire ridiculous idea and get Elle to a safe house.”

  “I
’d love to get out of here. Shall I drive or you?” Elle snapped.

  “I gave you a way out earlier, sweetheart. You’re the one who decided to cave.”

  His words smarted—because he was right. Even with her own terms thrown into the mix, she’d still backed down, but no way would she admit the embarrassing truth that it was an improvement from six months ago. Pre-Thailand, Elle would’ve caved to the Senator’s demand without a second thought, even the one that included James as an escort.

  Funny how, when it came to Trey, she didn’t budge even an inch. “Stay close. Stay alert. And stay put,” Elle repeated Trey’s rules. “I suppose it’s a good thing I went to obedience school.”

  “Okay, kids. I’ve been told it’s time for us to make an appearance,” Logan interrupted. He placed a small plastic earbud into her left ear. “Trey’s going to be at your side through the entire event, and Charlie and Vince are going to be inside the room, blending in with the other guests.”

  Logan snuck a look at the former SEAL. Vince’s tux covered his tattoos, but the man still managed to exude a don’t-mess-with-me vibe. “Okay, so Charlie’s going to blend in. Franklin’s going to stick out like an awkward thumb. Stone, the big boss-man, is going to be canoodling with the rest of us with event security. Rafe’s on getaway duty. We’ll all be close by, but no matter the distance, we’ll be linked by these mics. If you see someone who makes your internal alarm blare, say something, and we’ll come running.”

  “This sounds like a ridiculous amount of manpower.” Nerves made Elle’s stomach somersault, and she fought not to nibble on her lower lip. “Are you sure this isn’t overkill?”

  “I think it’s not-enough-kill,” Trey muttered beneath his breath.

  Charlie gave her a gentle pat on the arm. “We take our job seriously, and right now, that job happens to be you.”

  That’s what she was—and what she’d been—to Trey. A job. It shouldn’t rankle her. A fun, memorable twelve or more hours without strings or attachments had been exactly what she wanted…which was why she didn’t understand why those two little words—“a job”—left a bad taste in her mouth.