Читать книгу Baby Battalion - Cassie Miles, Cassie Miles - Страница 11

Inside the Zamir mansion, Nolan was glad to be wearing his dark glasses. Tess’s description of the garish, snazzy decor had been accurate. She had, however, failed to mention the several mirrors and reflective surfaces. As always, Nolan avoided looking at himself. He focused instead on Tess as she approached the lady of the house and a stunning young woman who had to be her daughter. All three ladies were slim with black hair, but that was where the similarity ended. Both Zamirs were olive-skinned with dramatic makeup and strong features. Tess had a porcelain complexion with pink roses in her cheeks. Her bright blue eyes with naturally thick lashes needed very little makeup.

After Tess introduced him, they went down the hallway to a long, polished table under two sparkly chandeliers. Green chai tea that reminded him of Afghanistan was served in tiny, ornate china cups. He halfway listened as the women discussed the small dinner party that would be taking place in a few weeks.

Their meeting gave every appearance of an everyday transaction for an event planner, but Nolan sensed an undercurrent. Did the Zamirs have something to hide?

He inserted himself into the conversation. “Your home is beautiful, Mrs. Zamir. You have elegant taste.”

“Thank you.” Her full lips parted in a smile. “My daughter thinks I should scale back. She likes the plain, boring modern style.”

“Just for myself,” said the younger woman who was dressed in a snug turquoise top with silver embroidery at the plunging neckline. “Glitz suits you, Mama.”

Nolan said, “Tess mentioned that you met her when she was a caterer.”

“Her orange truffles brought us together,” Mrs. Zamir said. “My husband tasted those chocolates at a dinner he attended and asked me to try Tess. I have never been disappointed.”

Nolan’s suspicions deepened. The husband had arranged the contact with Tess. Her shift from catering to event planning was six months after Joey was born—a time that coincided with speculation that Joe Donovan might still be alive. He had to wonder if the Zamirs were using Tess because of her friendship with Bart.

A tall man entered from the kitchen. He was dressed from head to toe in black, making him look even thinner than he was. Mrs. Zamir introduced him as her husband’s nephew, Ben. When they shook hands, Nolan sized him up. A handshake could be a useful measure of character. Some men turned it into a macho test of strength. Others pumped nervously.

Nephew Ben’s handshake was like the sting of a scorpion—quick and lethal. His upper lip curled in a sneer as he asked, “What is your occupation?”

Nolan guessed that Ben already knew who he was. To lie would make him appear suspicious. “I’m in town to provide security for Governor Lockhart of Texas.”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Zamir. “There are those who want the governor to run for president. Why are you with Tess?”

“I’m planning the governor’s Christmas Eve party at the Smithsonian,” Tess explained. “Nolan and I have been working out some of the details.”

Mrs. Zamir and her daughter reacted with squeals of excitement. Private events at the Smithsonian were a big deal, and they were delighted to be using an event planner who was part of such a prestigious event.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” the daughter said, “how were you selected? Are you friends with the Lockharts?”

“It was a referral,” Tess said. “Do you know Bart Bellows?”

Behind his dark glasses, Nolan kept a watchful eye on the nephew. At the mention of Bart’s name, a muscle in his jaw twitched. In the depths of his dark eyes was a glimmer of hatred. “Corps Security and Investigations,” Ben said. “That’s the company founded by Bellows.”

“Correct,” Nolan said. “He’s my boss.”

Less than two minutes later, Ben excused himself and left the room. Nolan wanted to follow him, to see who he was reporting to, but he assumed there was surveillance inside this mansion and didn’t want to behave in a manner that would draw further attention to himself. So, he settled back in his chair and stayed with the ladies.

As the women analyzed every detail of the upcoming dinner party, he tuned out. There was only so much discussion of food and cutlery that he could take. Did it really matter if the orchid table decorations were mauve or magenta? Was asparagus in season? Which vintage wine was the best?

His gaze rested on Tess. She was animated, engaging, charming. Her head tilted to the right when she listened. Tiny dimples appeared in her cheeks when she chuckled. Her laughter enchanted him, and he remembered going to great lengths to amuse her. He’d told jokes and surprised her with silly presents. In the early days of their lovemaking, he’d bought a pack of neon condoms so they could play hide-and-seek in the dark.

In the bedroom. Remembering her in his bed was a mistake, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Tess stretched out on the cream-colored sheets with one hand tangled in her silky black hair and her other arm reaching toward him. She had an exotic floral scent that reminded him of jasmine. He remembered the graceful curve of her hips, her tiny waist and her perfect breasts that she thought were too small. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

And he had to stop thinking about her. He couldn’t afford distractions. Not when there was the potential for danger in this very house.

He rose from the table and asked for directions to the restroom. Back to the foyer and down the hall to the right, it was the first door. He walked slowly, getting his bearings. The foyer was two stories tall with beveled glass windows on each side of the double front door. To his right was a curving staircase with marble banister and a toga-draped goddess statue standing where the newel post should have been.

From the gallery above his head, Nolan overheard a conversation, male voices speaking Arabic. He was familiar enough with the language to catch the gist of what they were saying. They were talking about Bart. One man said that Bart Bellows had vanished and speculated that he might be in hiding. The other—who sounded like nephew Ben—mentioned the presence of CSaI operatives. He said that Nolan was Bellow’s ghul, referring to a monster from Arabian folklore, a ghoul.

Nolan liked the characterization. A ghul should be feared. And a ghul sure as hell wasn’t the handsome Joe Donovan.

The men were walking on the open galley above his head, moving out of earshot. The last thing he heard clearly was a mention of Wes Bradley—the alias that Bart’s son had been using for years. Wes Bradley had warned them, had told them that Bart wanted to disrupt their plans.

Nolan’s suspicions were confirmed. The Zamir family had contacted Tess because of her friendship with Bart. She was being drawn into a web of danger.

His first instinct was to protect her. But how could he become her bodyguard without telling her how and why she was in danger? He wouldn’t lie to Tess, but he wasn’t ready to reveal his identity.

In the ornate bathroom with gold faucets, embroidered towels and gold cherub soap dishes, he took out his cell phone. Initially, the plan had been for him and Harlan to coordinate the security for Governor Lockhart while continuing the search for Bart. More backup was necessary. Nolan needed to call the CSaI office in Freedom, Texas, and get the rest of the men up here ASAP.

He wasn’t sure what kind of reception he’d get from this bathroom tucked inside a mansion, but he was confident that no one could read his signal. Bart had provided him with an untraceable cell phone.

His call was answered on the first ring by Amelia Bond, who started with an accusation. “Nolan, you haven’t checked in at the hotel yet.”

“Is that a problem? Are you getting some kind of discount or something?”

“Discount? I think not. This is a five-star establishment with a helipad on top. And you’ve got a suite, buddy boy. I arranged for early arrival. They were expecting you.”

“So what? It’s a hotel. I’ll be there.” He’d been too anxious to see Tess to check in at the hotel. As soon as he’d picked up his rental, he’d gone directly to her office. “Nice job on the rental. I like a Mercedes.”

“I promise not to tell anybody about your champagne taste. It’s not good for your tough guy image.”

He heard the smirk in her voice and imagined her pushing her glasses up on her nose. Amelia was more than a receptionist or office assistant. In her unassuming but caustic way, she ran things at CSaI.

“Make travel arrangements,” he said. “I want everybody up here.”

“Not Nick Cavanaugh. He needs to be with Grace while her son is recovering from the bone marrow operation.”

“Cavanaugh should stay, of course. Family comes first.” More than ever before, he felt the truth of that statement.

“And I’m not scheduling anything until you tell me what’s going on.”

Nolan glanced toward the closed door to the bathroom. Though he was certain no one could hear him, he lowered his voice. “Our intel from Jessop is confirmed. Something’s going down, and Bart is in the middle of it. I need man power.”

“O-o-o-kay.” She drawled the word. “It sounds like you’re getting ready to storm the castle. How can I help?”

“We need to locate Victor Bellows or Wes Bradley or whatever he’s calling himself.” He remembered something Tess had said about the father-son relationship. “We need research on Victor’s background, his childhood and teen years. Who were his friends? His teachers? His doctors? Who influenced his life? I want to know why he and Bart were estranged.”

“I’m on it,” she assured him. “In the meantime, I know exactly where you should start.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Amelia had an uncanny knack for anticipating what they needed. He wasn’t sure if she was psychic or just so much smarter than everybody else that she was mentally two steps ahead.

“Lila Lockhart and Bart were good friends when Victor was growing up. I’ll bet she can tell you a lot. And she’ll be arriving at Pierpont House tomorrow.”

“Good call. Thanks, Amelia.”

He disconnected the call. Once he had the rest of the CSaI team operating at full speed, Nolan would be free to do the most important job of all—protecting Tess and Joey.

ON THE DRIVE back to her office, Tess sorted through the notes she’d taken at the Zamir house. Every little detail—from the calligraphy on the place cards to the fresh basil for the pesto—had to be exactly right. If she organized properly now, she could set aside these preparations until after the Smithsonian event that would be occupying all her time for the next four days.

“It’s a good thing I have my Christmas shopping done,” she said. “The only trick now is to keep Joey from finding his presents.”

“My mom used to wrap our presents and keep them locked in the trunk of her car,” Nolan said. “Worked pretty well.”

She remembered Joe telling her exactly the same story. So many little things about Nolan reminded her of him. “My mom wasn’t that tricky.”

“Did you find the presents?”

“Sometimes.” During the holiday season, she missed her family. “This is the second year in a row that Joey and I won’t be going to Chicago to share Christmas with my mom. Last year, the weather was too awful and the airport was closed. And there’s no way I can leave this year. Not with Governor Lockhart’s event.”

“Do you have any other family nearby?”

“We’re scattered all over the place,” she said. “How about you? Do you stay in touch with your family?”

“Bart is the closest thing to family in my life.”

Even if she disregarded his physical scars, Tess would have guessed that Nolan had suffered a lot. Sure, he was tough and more masculine than any man had a right to be. But there was also an aura of sadness and abandonment.

She asked, “Are you staying at the Pierpont House with Governor Lockhart’s entourage?”

“I’m in a hotel near the Smithsonian.”

Which probably meant he’d be alone tonight. Tess was struck by an impulse. I want to ask him to come over for dinner.

That idea was completely out of character. She seldom went on dates, and she never ever made the first move. Not that she thought there was anything improper about a woman asking a man out. It just never occurred to her.

Being a single mom and running a business took up all her energy. Her days were packed full from the moment she got out of bed until she collapsed at the end of the day. She didn’t have time.

Tess inhaled a breath and looked out the window at cloudy skies. Time wasn’t the issue, not really. She used to throw together last-minute dinner parties at the drop of a hat. When she and Joe first moved into their house, he was always bringing home other marines on leave with nowhere else to go. They’d done a lot of entertaining.

Her life was different now. Less spontaneous. More responsible. Oh my God, that was pathetic. She was hiding from a social life and turning into a hermit. She might as well hang out a “Closed” sign. I’m going to ask him. The worst that could happen was he’d say no.

She screwed up her courage. “If you’re not doing anything else tonight, I’d like for you to come to my house for dinner. Nothing fancy, but I’m a pretty good cook.”

“I’d be delighted,” he said. “I’ll bring wine.”

She was so happy that she nearly clapped her hands. Nolan was only one person, but this would be a party. Unlike all the events she planned for other people, this was her party. She’d be the guest of honor. Actually, he was the guest. But she intended to enjoy every minute.