Determined to Protect, Forbidden to Love: Ramirez's Woman / Her Royal Bodyguard / Protecting the Princess. BEVERLY BARTONЧитать онлайн книгу.
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 smiled, glanced at her friends, and then laughed.
Vic Noble joined the others. “Did I just miss a good joke?” he asked.
Lucie leaned over and kissed Vic on the cheek. “Why can’t Sawyer be a sweetheart like you?”
Vic chuckled quietly. “You two been at it again, huh?”
“Considering you’re ex-CIA, you wouldn’t happen to know a discreet assassin I could hire to eliminate a certain pain in the ass, would you?”
“You don’t want Sawyer dead,” Vic told her. “You’d miss tormenting the man far too much.”
A roar of good-natured laughter rose up inside and around Daisy’s cubicle.
The laughter died the minute a deep, authoritarian voice called loudly from down the hall. “Dom. J.J. Vic.” Standing outside his current secretary’s office—the boss went through secretaries on the average of two a year—Sawyer McNamara motioned for them with a commanding flick of his big hand. Dressed to the nines like a model out of GQ, he looked like a wealthy businessman. But those who knew him well understood that beneath that handsome, stylish facade beat the heart of a deadly warrior.
“The master calls,” Lucie said. “You’d better run or he’ll threaten to send y’all to obedience school, along with me.”
Everyone chuckled, but quickly left Lucie with Daisy and headed down the hall toward the boss’s office. Once the three of them were inside, Sawyer closed the door and made introductions
“Will, these are the three agents I’ve chosen for the job,” Sawyer told their visitor. “Vic Noble is a former CIA contract agent.” Vic nodded. “Dom Shea is a former navy SEAL.” Dom smiled. “And this is J.J. Blair. She’s an expert marksman and is proficient in the martial arts. Dom and J.J. both speak Spanish like natives.”
Mr. Pierce studied the threesome for a full minute, then nodded. “I’m Will Pierce, with the CIA.” His gaze met with Vic’s for a split second. “You may or may not know that yesterday afternoon, someone tried to assassinate Miguel Cesar Ramirez, the Nationalist Party candidate for president of Mocorito. Unofficially, the United States government wants to see Ramirez elected. He’s a new breed of Mocoritian. A man of the people, but educated in the U.S. He graduated from Harvard Law School and has numerous American friends.”
“Our interest in this election wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Mocorito is in possession of more oil than any other country in the western hemisphere, would it?” Vic asked.
Will pinned Vic with his pensive glare. “I don’t think I need to answer that question, do I?”
“Señor Ramirez needs a full-time bodyguard,” Sawyer said. “That’s where the Dundee Agency comes in.”
J.J. narrowed her gaze as she focused on her boss. “Why doesn’t he already have bodyguards?”
“Neither the presiding president nor his opponent have bodyguards,” Pierce explained. “In the past, before Mocorito was a democracy, the leader—either a president or a dictator or at one time the king—was always surrounded by a contingent of armed guards. President Padilla refuses to have bodyguards in order to show that he has nothing to fear