Hard to Handle (3 page)

“I don't know, I swear!” Nick insisted. “I got connected through a friend of a friend. I've never met anyone directly.”

“And this friend of a friend?”

“His name is Lucky. That's all I know!”

“Okay, Nick. I believe you,” Sam stated as he straightened up. “I'll be sure to tell the police how cooperative you were.”

He walked back into the living area while dialing Renee on his cell phone.

“Did you get my email?” Sam asked as soon as the Fortis agent answered the call.

“Yeah, I'm searching the Virginia and FBI databases now,” Renee replied.

“I'll make it easier for you. His name is Nicolas Francesco, and it sounds like he does only very low-level work.”

“Okay. And how did he end up with a busted nose and a bloody face?” the younger agent asked, clearly anticipating a good story.

“That, my friend, is a great question. Let me conference in Lucas and I'll get you both up to speed.”

Sam then spent the next five minutes providing a summary of the situation to Renee and one of his business partners, Lucas Johnson. Sam, Lucas, and Evan were equal partners in the firm, and worked together to discuss strategy for each mission. They also led the major engagements in the field, based on their elite skills. With his background as a CIA agent, Evan ran covert operations. Lucas was a cyber genius and led all major system security cases. Sam specialized in physical security and protective services, with skills honed as a British security agent with MI5.

“Sam, Terry Antonoli's assistant is listed as Kaylee Stone on the company website,” Renee interjected. “But you called her Mikayla Stone-Clement. Are we talking about the same person?”

Sam clenched his jaw. It had been a long time since he'd heard the name Kaylee Stone.

“Yeah, one in the same,” he finally confirmed, working to keep his tone even and without a trace of resentment. “Ms. Stone-Clement comes from a pretty wealthy and well-known Virginia family, and likes to use an alias when she doesn't want anyone to know who she really is.”

“So, what now?” Lucas asked.

“Well, Mikayla came all the way to Alexandria to hire a bodyguard, so it seems to me that we have a new client,” Sam suggested.

“Maybe, but it's pretty clear that Antonoli needs more than just a security detail,” Lucas added. “Based on what happened tonight, he'll need threat assessment, maybe neutralization, depending on which parties are involved.”

“I've confirmed Francesco's identity,” said Renee. “You were right, Sam. He's not directly connected to a crime family. And he's from Baltimore.”

“Interesting. They sent him forty-five miles to deliver a message,” Sam mused.

“Maybe that's where the client is based,” suggested Lucas.

“Maybe,” echoed Sam.

“What about Mikayla? Where does she fit into all of this?” Lucas asked.

“I know only what she told me outside headquarters earlier this evening,” Sam said. “But I'm moving her to a safe location for the night, so I'll see what else she knows about Antonoli's business dealings.”

“Sam, the police will arrive in about five minutes to take Francesco into custody for trespassing and assault charges,” Renee confirmed.

“What about Evan?” asked Lucas. “Should you advise him of the situation?”

“He's on the last three days of vacation with his girlfriend. We can wait until he's back on Monday to let him know his ex-fiancée is in the middle of our latest assignment,” determined Sam.

CHAPTER 3

After closing the hotel bedroom door, Mikayla got down on her knees to fish out her small handgun from under the bed, where she had quickly hid it when Sam had called her name. She straightened up and stowed the weapon in the case at the bottom of her small suitcase, then finished packing her clothes, leaving out a light cardigan. It didn't take long, so she then spent the next ten minutes sitting on the bed, listening to the low tone of Sam's voice and thinking through what to do next.

As frightening as it had been, the attack tonight could not have come at a better time. Judging by the very cold reception from Sam earlier that afternoon, only hard evidence was going to sway him to help her and her boss, Terry. Sure, there was the risk that whoever had been sent to enforce the threats against Terry could be overzealous and really try to hurt her, but it was minimal. Whoever was responsible only wanted Terry out of the bidding process for government building projects, and could not afford unwanted police attention. So, they would only see her as a means to achieve their goals. And, hopefully, that was as far is it went, with her gun and Sam Mackenzie as extra precaution. She and Terry had worked too hard on establishing Antonoli Properties in New York and New Jersey to let thugs and criminals hold them back.

Mikayla checked her watch. It was almost eight o'clock. Ninety minutes since she had approached Sam outside the Fortis headquarters.

Asking for his help was the most difficult thing about this whole situation, but there was no way around it. She needed professional protection, and there was no one else more capable than Samuel Mackenzie. He might never forgive her for how they had met, but he would still help her. His obvious disgust with her seemed just as strong four years later, and she was counting on it. Sam was a very smart man, but if he saw her only as a cheating, opportunistic woman, he wouldn't look any deeper. At least not at first.

Evan DaCosta, on the other hand, would know something was fishy right away. He and Mikayla had grown up together and had been good friends long before they'd started dating. He would never understand why she would give up her dream of being a journalist to work as an administrator in the building industry. And he would never support her doing so while facing threats of physical danger.

Mikayla was deep in thought when there was a knock on the bedroom pocket door. She stood up and slid it open. Sam Mackenzie filled the open space with his tall frame and broad shoulders. They stared silently at each other for a few awkward moments until Mikayla glanced away.

“Are you all packed?” he asked.

“Yeah, except for a few toiletries in the bathroom,” she replied.

“Okay. The police will be here in a minute to take your visitor into custody, and I'd like to move you to another location for the night.”

“Does that mean you're taking the assignment?” Mikayla demanded, meeting his eyes again squarely.

“We'll see.”

“No,” she countered. “Either you agree to take Antonoli Properties on as a client or I'm staying right here until my flight tomorrow back to New York.”

Sam's eyes narrowed a bit but the rest of his face remained impassive.

“We can discuss the details once we have you somewhere safe,” he insisted.

“What else is there to discuss for you to make a decision? You heard the threat and saw what happened,” Mikayla replied, pointing at the man still tied up at the front door.

“There's no need to be stubborn, darling.”

“I'm not being stubborn, only practical,” she shot back, annoyed by his patronizing tone. “I'm very grateful for your intervention. You're still a very gallant knight. But I need more than that. I've offered you the job, so either take it or leave so I can find someone else.”

Sam slowly crossed his arms across his chest and planted his feet wide.

“All right, we'll take the assignment,” he finally agreed. “But you and your boss, Antonoli, will have to tell us everything there is to know about your business dealings.”

“There is no we, Sam. I told you we're hiring you and you only. And it requires full confidentiality.”

“It doesn't work that way, darling. I am Fortis. You hire me, you hire the whole company. That's the deal,” Sam stated, spreading his legs wider as though to take an even firmer stance. “There is no confidentiality between me and my partners.”

Mikayla did not miss the broader point he was making, and looked down at the space between them.

“I'm sorry, but that's the deal,” she returned.

“Why?”

“You know why, Sam.”

“Evan.”

“He could never see me as a client. Our families are too close, and he would feel honor bound to tell my parents what's going on.”

“From what I can see, Evan has moved on with his life, so maybe you're not giving him enough credit.”

Mikayla smiled sadly at the attempted jab.

“It's not a risk I'm willing to take. My dad has been through enough in the last few years. I don't want him to worry needlessly about me.”

“Looks like he should be worried,” Sam added with another condescending twist of his lips. Mikayla refused to take the bait.

“So do we have an agreement or not?”

“I told you, if you hire me, you're hiring Fortis. Besides, I've already given Lucas and one of our analysts an update. Kinda hard to unring that bell, lass.”

She stepped closer to him and planted her hands on her hips.

“You're a pretty capable man, I'm sure you'll figure it out.”

One of his eyebrows twitched.

“So, Mr. Mackenzie, do we have an agreement? Or should I start searching for another security consultant?” she insisted.

There were several moments of tense silence during which neither of them blinked, until there was a hard, loud knock at the front door.

“Get the rest of your things together,” Sam finally growled before turning to walk across the hotel room.

Mikayla hid a smile as she followed a few steps behind, pulling on the cardigan. She turned into the bathroom just as Sam let the uniformed officer inside. It took only a couple of minutes for her to collect toiletries and supplies into a cosmetic bag. When she stepped back out into the front hallway, her attacker was being taken away in police custody.

“All set?” Sam asked. He had brought her luggage and purse out of the bedroom.

“Yes,” she confirmed as she loaded the cosmetic bag into the suitcase. “What about the police? Don't I need to give a statement?”

“I've taken care of it,” he stated simply, then ushered her out of the room with her luggage in tow.

“Where are we going?”

“Not far.”

Mikayla stayed close to him as they went downstairs on a service elevator, through a long hallway, and outside to an alley at the back of the building. Sam opened the front passenger door of a slick, black sports car and helped her get seated. She heard the trunk open and shut before he folded his large frame into the driver's seat. The engine purred to life, and they were out on the street, moving swiftly through traffic at an aggressive speed. While Sam remained silent and focused on his driving, Mikayla tried not to think about how strange it felt to be next to him in the confined space.

They had known each other for such a brief period of time four years ago. Just a few days. Yet his presence created the same nervous anticipation in the base of her stomach, as though something exciting was about to happen. Only, this time, Mikayla knew from experience that excitement wasn't always a good thing, and she vowed not to let it beguile her into rash and regrettable behavior. She was trying to accomplish something with Antonoli Properties, and while Sam Mackenzie was necessary to do this, his presence could not be anything more than that.

The drive was only five minutes north to a small townhouse complex on the other side of the airport. Sam slowly drove the car down a narrow lane to the end of the street, then turned into the last driveway on the right. The door to a single-car garage slid up automatically, and he parked inside, closing the garage door behind them.

“Is this your place?” Mikayla asked as she stepped out of the car and looked around at the neat, organized space.

“No, it's a safe house,” Sam said curtly. “Let's get inside. We have a lot to sort through.”

Mikayla silently followed him into the two-floor house through an entrance near the kitchen. Sam switched on lights as they walked through to the living areas on the main floor. It was plain white, with unadorned walls and sparse furniture. Sam placed her suitcase near the staircase in the middle of the space, then started a thorough inspection of every external door and window, all of which were covered with utilitarian white blinds. She let out a deep breath, trying to ease some of the tension that had been building steadily since she'd stepped out of her rental car to speak to him just two hours earlier.

“Okay, Mikayla,” Sam said as he walked back to her. “Start from the beginning and tell me everything you know about this real estate bid your boss is involved with and these threats.”

Mikayla backed up to sit in the dark blue sofa against the wall. Then she took a deep breath and told the story of how she'd ended up in New York.

“I had met Terry about a year and a half ago at a charity auction for the Clement Foundation, the nonprofit organization for adult literacy that my mother runs,” she explained, looking up into his eyes with a steady gaze. “He wanted to expand his family's real estate development business into the U.S. and was here for a few weeks, meeting with business associates for potential investment opportunities. Last fall, he reached out to ask if I would be interested in a job. Antonoli Properties had just opened their North American office in New York and wanted to focus on city projects. Terry needed an executive assistant with a strong communications background who could help complete municipal government contract bids. I was ready for a new challenge so I accepted the job and have been working with him ever since.

“We now have three small projects under way in Brooklyn and Queens. Six weeks ago, one of our subcontractors told us about an open bid in Paterson, New Jersey, for a new government office building. We submitted a proposal last Monday, three weeks before the deadline. The contract will be awarded on August fourth.”

Sam was now pacing slowly in front of her while he stroked the thick, silky blond beard near the line of his jaw.

“When did the trouble start?” he asked.

“Last Wednesday, a couple of days after the submission,” explained Mikayla. “Someone showed up at our office claiming to be from the city of Paterson, asking very aggressive questions about building permits and insurance coverage. Terry and I were at one of the other building sites, but our receptionist was there, and said the gentleman suggested the review process for new vendors to work in Paterson was very extensive and could result in very crippling fines if there was any suggestion that we had misrepresented our credentials. Of course, I called the city development office right away, and they had no record of sending anyone to meet with us.

“On Monday morning, we found the glass in the front doors of our offices smashed and the computers and office equipment all destroyed. That's when I told Terry we needed to hire security. I arrived here two days ago.”

“They knew you were in Virginia, alone, when they left that voicemail message,” he stated solemnly.

“It appears so.”

“Why you?”

“What?”

“The message was ‘pull out now or your bitch will pay the price.' Why you and not his wife?” he asked in a deceptively soft voice.

Mikayla knew the answer, had been fully prepared to lay everything out from the beginning so that Sam would see her as she needed him to and be satisfied with only providing his protection services. But now the words were stuck in her throat and she just could not push them out. Not yet.

“I don't know,” she lied, looking down briefly. “Terry travels a lot back and forth to France, so I've become the face of Antonoli Properties here. I'm sure I'm just the easiest target.”

“You're also working for him under the name Kaylee Stone. Why?”

“Old habit, I guess? My dad is still very influential in many circles even if he doesn't run Clement Media anymore. I've never wanted anyone to think I was using the family connections to further my career. This way, I don't have to worry about it.”

“That sounds like a pretty way of saying you prefer to lie about who you are, deceiving the people around you.”

Mikayla let out a deep sigh as she stood up to stand in front of him. It was inevitable that they would get here eventually.

“Sam—”

“Does Antonoli know?”

“Yes,” she insisted, sounding much more defensive than she wanted to. “I told you, I met him while I worked for my mother's charitable foundation. So he knows who I am. I mean, he calls me Kaylee, like everyone I've met since high school. But only my family still calls me Mikayla. And Evan's.”

He looked down at her with a fierce stare, his jaw clenched hard. She could feel his dissatisfaction with her statement, and his silent need to challenge her words. The impending conversation was four years in the making.

“Sam—”

“What else do I need to know?” he demanded, cutting her off again.

“That's everything I can think of.”

He nodded, seemingly calm on the outside, but his sky-blue eyes burned hot with intensity.

“Okay. This whole thing should be pretty easy to resolve once we find out what other companies bid on the same work.” He looked at his watch. “We need to rearrange flights to New York for tomorrow morning, and I'll meet with Antonoli as soon as we arrive.”