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Kill Me Twice
By Roxanne St. Claire Pocket
Copyright © 2005 Roxanne St. Claire
All right reserved. ISBN: 0743477308
PrologueInside this dossier is your penance." Lucy Sharpe stood to her full six feet and handed the folder down to the man who looked far too big for the delicate chair he sat in. Height was never a disadvantage to a woman who knew how to use it. "She's gorgeous, rich, smart, and built like a centerfold. Do you think you can manage to keep her alive and keep your hands off her?"
Alex Romero set the manila folder on the chair next to him, without opening it to verify gorgeous or centerfold. And to his credit, he didn't attempt another defense of his behavior in Switzerland. Lucy gave him one point for patience and another for recognizing that she'd just placed his world-class backside on probation.
"Is she a new client?" he asked.
"Actually, she's not the client who has retained the Bullet Catchers." Lucy crossed her arms and settled her hip against a massive Victorian writing table that filled one corner of her library. "The client is her employer, Kimball Parrish."
"The media mogul?"
Alex might look like he belonged in full leathers weaving through the Pyrenees on a Ducati, but he read The New York Times. And he had the memory of a supercomputer.
"Yes, he's the owner of Adroit Broadcasting Group," Lucy replied. "And as the master of sixty-five network-affiliate TV stations, a satellite radio network, a chain of theaters, a billboard company, and one of the most popular search engines, mogul definitely applies."
"He's the one who needs a bodyguard. The guy's a one-man right-wing conspiracy who's amassed as many enemies as dollars."
"He was referred by a friend." Though "friend" was too small a word for the person who dragged Lucy from the depths of hell and given her a reason to live again. Taking this unorthodox assignment was the least she could do in return. "Kimball Parrish is a Bullet Catcher client now. Our clients' politics are not our business; their security and safety is." Her gaze dropped to the dossier, giving him silent permission to open it. "He's hired us to protect an anchorwoman at WMFL, a Miami television station Adroit recently acquired. She's being stalked and threatened by a viewer, and he wants round-the-clock security. As you have proven repeatedly, there are few executive protection experts of your caliber in the world."
Alex's eyes burned as black as the Cuban coffee that fueled his Latin blood. "You're sending me to Miami to babysit a newsreader with an amorous fan?"
She knew he'd hate this job. The Bullet Catchers weren't overpriced bouncers hired to fend off the paparazzi, nor were they hourly-wage night-shift guards hired to impress friends of the wealthy. Her elite organization was comprised of first-rate security specialists, and she selected both her employees and her clients with tremendous care. Though she hadn't exactly selected this one -- but Alex didn't need to know that.
She responded to his babysitting complaint with a silent, simple nod.
"No way. Huh uh. Get somebody else. I don't do newscasters."
"Nor will you do this one," she volleyed back. "You've been given this assignment because no one else in this operation can handle it as well as you." She had several covert surveillance professionals, an undercover master, two deadly marksmen, an explosives expert, a few hostage negotiators, and three counter-terrorism specialists on the Bullet Catcher payroll. But none could touch Alex for his ability to case a room, anticipate trouble, and get his principal out of harm's way.
"Why don't you send Max Roper? He could scare the nastiest stalker away."
"He's just back from Cannes." Lucy smiled. "I should think you'd love an assignment in Miami. This is your chance to go home, eat some black beans, and bounce your nieces and nephews on Uncle Alejandro's lap."
His swarthy complexion darkened, telling her he was working to control his temper. "Look, I joined the Bullet Catchers because I don't want jobs like this. If I did, I'd be a contract bodyguard for some white-bread security company. I work for you because I prefer to protect presidents, princes, and the head of Scotland Yard."
"You work for me because I pay you a ridiculous amount of money, let you wear your hair like a rock star, and usually ignore it when women are willing to risk marriages to multibillionaires just to serve you strawberry scones off their breasts."
The hint of a smile tipped his full mouth. "Raspberry."
"Unfortunately, that multibillionaire was one of my best clients and paying us a fortune to protect him."
"I did protect him. I told you, she had a knife and some interesting pictures of her husband and his boyfriend. She'd have carved him to the bone if I hadn't distracted her long enough for him to escape."
"I read the report." She picked up the manila folder and placed it in his hands. "This one's more important than it looks on the surface."
"Because you want more of Parrish's business?"
Let him think that. "I would very much like to impress him, regardless of his political leanings, and I'm counting on you to make that impression. And, of course, to be sure no one lays a hand on one of his favorite employees. Including you."
"Aw, Luce. Don't tell me you believe all those rumors." An irreverent smile broke across his face. "I'm telling you, it's all propaganda."
Lucy laughed softly. "There's truth in propaganda." She never could stay angry with him for very long. Five years ago, when she'd left the Agency with a plan to target the most powerful people in the world as her clients, Alex Romero had been one of her first hires. His intelligence and fearlessness had knocked her socks off. He had that effect on most women; unfortunately their underwear and common sense were invariably knocked off along with their socks.
"This subject is not an ordinary news anchor," Lucy told him. "When she's done in Miami, she's New York bound, being groomed to be the next star of the Metropolitan Network."
"And I'm supposed to get excited about that."
"No, Alex. That's just the point: you're not supposed to get excited about that. Your excitement was the cause of the debacle in Geneva."
He fingered the edge of the folder, and read the tab. "Jessica Adams. What's her deal?"
"She's an ambitious thirty-year-old workaholic who lives in a high-rise off Brickell Avenue in Miami. She rarely dates, loves to cook, reads the classics, collects antique glass, has an identical twin sister, chairs a breast cancer foundation, exercises regularly, and drives a BMW convertible. She'll be an easy client."
"Fine." His tone told her it wasn't. "I'll leave right away."
"Mr. Parrish requested that you arrive no sooner than tomorrow night. That way he'll have an opportunity to brief Miss Adams on his decision to hire a bodyguard. Evidently she's not taking the stalker threats seriously."
"That'll give me time to bounce some nieces and nephews when I get to Coral Gables."
Lucy smiled as she circled back to her chair. "You do that. And when you meet the principal, make sure she understands that the danger to her is real. She needs to know that complacency is the enemy." Picking up her electronic assistant to check messages, she added, "Don't let me down, Alex. You know the rules."
"Jeez, Luce. It's insulting that you think I'm such a dog that I can't resist one measly news -- "
She heard the folder flip open, then his long, slow whistle.
"Those are real," she said without taking her attention from her handheld device. When he didn't answer, she finally looked at him, seeing a glint in his eyes that was both threatening and amused.
"You're evil, Lucy. Truly black-hearted and evil."
Copyright © 2005 by Roxanne St. Claire
Continues...
Excerpted from Kill Me Twice by Roxanne St. Claire Copyright © 2005 by Roxanne St. Claire.
Excerpted by permission.
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