Bulletproof Bodyguard. Kay Sidey Thomas
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a really bad idea.
Cally turned to look at him with a sober face and sparkling eyes. “You jump.”
He barked a laugh.
“Actually, you shimmy down to that sunroof on the second floor, and then you jump.”
“Does every room have one of these?”
“Oh, no. Yours is special. It’s the only one on the third floor. There are two staircases up to the second floor and a window in every bedroom. The fire marshal figures if worse comes to worst, everyone else can get out.”
Obviously she was struggling to keep a straight face.
“I see.”
“River Trace is the only residence to be converted to an inn in the county. The fire marshal had never done this before. I’m afraid he went a bit overboard. We barely talked him out of a sprinkler system. But I feel confident you will be safe during your stay.” The dimples were back. “I think the worst thing that would happen if you had to jump is a broken leg.”
“Hmm. We’ll hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Absolutely.”
A man could get lost in a smile like hers. Harris yawned widely as Marcus shut the ladder back into the window seat. “Someone is getting sleepy,” he said.
Harris was snuggling into her chest and clutching one of her ringlets. “Yes, I’d better put him to bed. I’ll be glad to get you something after I get him down.”
She was looking at Marcus again with those incredibly blue eyes, totally oblivious of the effect she was having.
“What would you like? A snack of some kind? Or I can fix you a sandwich? Whatever you want.”
She had no idea what she’d just said. Marcus swallowed. God, he didn’t usually get turned on by unintentional double entendres. “A sandwich would be great if it’s not too much trouble. But there’s no hurry. I realize you’ll have your hands full for the next few minutes.”
“It’s no problem at all. I’ll just put Harris to bed and bring up your sandwich. And those towels and that brandy.” She started toward the stairs before turning back. “How does roast beef on whole wheat sound?”
“Delicious.”
“It’ll be about fifteen minutes.”
Downstairs the deep gong of the doorbell echoed through the house.
“That’ll be my other guests. Let’s make that thirty minutes on the sandwich?”
“No problem.”
Cally nodded and headed down the steps. When the door closed, Marcus’s smile faded. He looked around the room, taking in the rich red walls and antique four-poster.
This was not the set-up he’d been expecting. Oh, it was quite a place all right. But it was not the proper way for this to go down. What in hell was he going to do about the widow and the kid?
Chapter Two
As Gregor Williams pulled his rented Suburban into the drive of River Trace, the weight of the week pressed down on him. If his lawyers were to be believed, a hearing and indictments were in his future. But he shook off their dire predictions and took in the view before him. Starting now, Gregor had other plans.
The bed-and-breakfast was beautiful, although not to his taste. Surrounded by empty cotton fields, it looked like something out of Gone with the Wind—with three stories, red brick, white columns, black shutters and wrought-iron balconies. But what really interested him was how the house backed up to a lake. A setting sun bled along a drive lined with thirty-foot magnolia trees and live oaks that were closer to fifty feet. The secluded plantation home was absolutely perfect for his “project.”
“Let’s get inside. I’ve had all the fun I can stand today.” His tone invited no argument.
He glanced over his shoulder at the men he’d brought with him. Peter Sams, his second-in-command, was tall, rawboned, in his late forties and completely bald with a goatee. A bodybuilder and frighteningly strong, Peter had worked with him in some type of capacity for twenty years. First in the military, now for their private security company. Gregor knew Peter Sams almost as well as he knew himself.
A smaller but equally lethal black man was sitting beside Sams. Rob Johnson had joined their security team in Iraq right before the ill-fated mission that had landed them in their present legal troubles. But he’d proven his worth in that firefight. Gregor could trust his life to both of these men.
Gregor’s gaze fell on Frank Boggs next. Sams had found Boggs or rather, relocated his old military buddy. Boggs would be supplying them with everything they would need for the weekend.
He shifted uneasily in his seat. Johnson and Sams had both told him that they were afraid the man couldn’t cut it in the clinch. But Gregor felt Boggs could handle his end. The job wasn’t going to be that complicated. Besides, the payoff was irresistible. And in their present legal circumstances, absolutely necessary. Gregor had a strategy for making everything work.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror as he swung open the door and nodded. With iron-gray hair and cold blue eyes, he knew he looked formidable. The look was one he had cultivated over the years. He was fifty-two, but his six-foot frame looked like that of a much younger man.
This was his last mission, so to speak. Afterward, he would be retiring to some place tropical and out of the country—where the women wore thong bikinis and were more than willing to accommodate his…unique preferences. He could practically taste the piña coladas as he strode up the paved brick sidewalk.
“All right. Let’s do this,” he called over his shoulder.
The three men didn’t answer. Accustomed to taking orders, they simply swung open their car doors with military precision. Moments later they stood on the tremendous porch at the front of the bed-and-breakfast along with their boss.
Gregor growled, “Smile, damn it. You look like you’re about to face a firing squad. We’re supposed to be having fun.”
Tension rose along the back of his neck. The taste in his mouth no longer reminded him of the tropics. He focused on the large rush welcome mat as he rang the bell.
A stout-looking black woman in a maid’s uniform opened the massive paneled door with a smile. “Hello, Mr. Williams. It’s good to have you back again. Y’all come on in. Welcome to River Trace.”
Gregor dismissed his second thoughts and turned on the charm. “Hello, Luella. It’s good to be here. I’ve been dreaming about your collard greens and buttermilk biscuits for a month.”
“You’re puttin’ me on, sir.” Luella’s smile grew wider as she shooed them all inside like a mother hen. “Let me get you gentlemen checked in. You have perfect timing. I just got back from dinner. Did you have a pleasant drive?”
Gregor spoke for all of them. “Yes, we did. I’m looking forward to showing my friends the casino. We’re hoping to have a profitable weekend.”
Luella bustled her way over to the large antique secretary and proceeded with the paperwork and showing them to their rooms on the second floor. Gregor’s was the master bedroom with a fireplace and large sitting area. Luella was turning to go downstairs when he asked, “Is Mrs. Burnett home this evening?”
The big woman nodded. “Cally’s here. I believe she’s checking another guest in. She cooked up some hors d’oeuvres for you and the other gentlemen earlier if you’d like a late cocktail hour. Y’all come on down whenever you’re ready. I’ll take care of you.”
“None of your fried okra?” he teased. “I was really looking forward to that.”
“No sir, we haven’t picked any okra out of our garden this week. But if