My Bad Boy's Secret: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (135 page)

“Excuse me, Ambassador. May I have a word?” He asked politely. Miranda smiled at the United Kingdom representative and shook his hand in a brief farewell before stepping aside with the gorgeous man who led the SEAL team. She stared into his light brown eyes and took a shuddering breath in. He was tall and imposing with his broad shoulders and muscle tone. His auburn hair was cropped short and his chin had matching stubble along his jaw.

“Yes, what can I help you with sir?” Miranda asked politely. She had no idea how she was supposed to refer to him and judging by his small smile she already did so incorrectly. Greg decided not to correct her and allowed the formal title to slide.

“We have finished mapping out the location and I wanted to go over our escape procedures with you so that you are familiar with what to do in case of an emergency situation.” He said, leading her toward the table where she would be seated with other members from the United Nations.

“Should an attack or riot occur on the east end of the building, Jackson of there will grab you and take you to our vehicle waiting down the back staircase to escort you to the embassy. If something happens on the west side of the building, Paulus will escort you out the opposite door over there and down a back stair case to where the vehicle will be moved to wait for you.” Greg explained, pointing out each of the exit routes. Miranda nodded as she listened.

“What if the attack is on multiple sides?” She asked, looking up at him. Greg smiled down at her, impressed that she was considering multiple scenarios. Not every person they were required to protect or rescue thought of such things and it often complicated the mission.

“Then I will take you up the stairs to a helicopter I will radio in. That’s a very tricky scenario though, because we are not going to be the only ones with that idea and there is only one landing pad.” Greg said. Miranda frowned and pursed her lips.

“Then perhaps we should have a back-up in case that is not a practical option.” She suggested. Greg raised his eyebrows in surprise and resisted the urge to grin wider. He knew she was an intelligent woman—she would have to be in order to win the position of Ambassador at such a young age, she could only be in her late twenties—but he knew not all intelligences could be applied to high-stress situations like what he handled. Many people often shut down and ceased to be able to cope with the situation. Obviously, she liked to be prepared just like he did.

“I have already done so. If it comes to that, there is a basement exit I will lead us to and have our vehicle meet us about a mile down the road where the tunnel lets out.” He said. Miranda looked at him with a confused expression.

“Why not just do that?” She asked. Greg chuckled and shrugged.

“That’s up to you, but it’s not the nicest of tunnels. It’s dark and, like many basements, contains vermin and damp areas. I thought you might prefer something a little less rough.” He said. Miranda winced and nodded.

“Yes, you’re right. That doesn’t sound very appealing to walk in for a mile, especially in these shoes.” She said, looking down at her black pumps. Greg shook his head and looked back up at her.

“No, mam.” He replied. Miranda smiled at him and was trying to think of something else to say when one of his teammates called for his attention.

“Rogers!” The man shouted, signaling for Greg to come that direction. Greg nodded at his teammate, Jackson, and gave Miranda an apologetic smile.

“Excuse me, Ambassador.” He said, leaving her standing in the middle of the hall to find out what Jackson had that was so important. Miranda watched him leave and heaved a sigh. She pursed her lips and shook her head. She was on the clock as of the moment she stepped into the room, she didn’t have time to pine after dreamy Navy officers. She turned and strode over to Jonathan, he would have a list of things for her to be doing that was far more important.

“What’s up, Matt?” Greg asked when he reached Jackson at the other end of the room. Standing beside him was a man he didn’t recognize and instantly he was on guard. The man was tall and lean with light blonde hair and piercingly cold blue eyes. He watched Greg approach with a cool detachment and Greg waited for Matt Jackson to make the introduction.

“This is Alexander Volcoy, SAS officer.” Matt introduced. Greg’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he offered his hand for the man to shake. The man looked at it for a moment before gasping it and shaking his hand.

“What can we do for you, Mr. Volcoy?” Greg asked, uncertain why the SAS was wanting to speak with him.

“It’s what I can do for you. We recognize the potential… uncertainties that the outcome of this election can have. We are offering our services to the security teams for all of the diplomats that our country are allies with to ensure their safety as well as the safety of our Ambassador and future President elect.” Alexander explained, his hands clasped behind his back and his tone impassive. Greg nodded and glanced over at Matt who seemed equally as unsure of how to proceed. They hadn’t anticipated the British government offering any assistance because they had assumed they’d be too preoccupied securing their own officials in the city.

“Well, uh, that’s mighty generous of you. At this moment we have it covered but should the need arise I will notify you.” Greg said politely. Alexander gave a single nod and glanced over Greg’s shoulder.

“Is that the Ambassador?” He asked, tilting his head a little as he stared at her. Greg looked in the direction Alexander was staring and his heart leapt at the sight of her smiling and laughing at something the Italian Ambassador was saying.

“Yes, that’s her.” He said, turning back to Alexander. He was surprised to see that Alexander’s eyes had softened—albeit only a minuscule—as he regarded her. Realizing he had been staring a bit too long, Alexander looked back up at Greg and the cool aloofness returned to his features.

“Understood. I will be around in case you require my services.” He said again before turning to leave the room and wait in the hallway. Greg glanced back over his shoulder and noticed that Miranda was watching the exchange out of the corner of her eye. She was incredibly aware of her surroundings and he respected that, it would make everything that much easier if the situation for evacuation arose.

***

Miranda listened to the impassioned speeches from the candidates while debonairly seated at her table with seven other United Nations officials. She nodded her head along with the points they made, her translator smoothly delivering the speeches in her ear piece so that she could understand. She was trying her best to focus on the candidates, but she had a knot in her stomach that wouldn’t go away. She continuously glanced over her shoulder at her SEAL team for reassurance and was met with stoic impassiveness each time. They were on alert and had no time to ease her silly worries. After hours of procedure and the final speeches, they all waited with bated breath as election officials tallied the votes and prepared to declare the next President. She made idle small talk with the people at her table but it was obvious that everyone had their minds on the same thing: what was going to happen next. She could hear the crowds outside gathering in front of the building chanting for the candidate that she and the United Nations supported most, and she prayed that he would be the one declared the President. Not only would it open channels of communication and form alliances with many countries, but it would appease the citizens and give them a true sense of democracy. A few minutes later, any quiet mumblings of side chatter that had been going on fell silent as the electoral official took the podium at the head of the room.

“Ladies and gentleman,” He started, clearing his throat. “We have reached a conclusion and our new President of the Russian Federation by majority vote is Ivan Chosky.” He announced. Miranda let out a sigh of relief and shook hands with the other officials at her table who were equally as relieved to hear that their candidate, and the people’s, had won. She snapped her head toward the windows when the commotion outside grew louder. It started off as cheering but as Ivan took the stage to give his acceptance speech, it turned much more aggressive and tumultuous. Miranda sought out her SEAL team leader from her seat but was unable to locate him. Ivan pressed on, delivering his speech with passion and emphasis while the chaos outside grew louder and louder. Security personal began to filter into the room, grabbing their diplomats and officials and whisking them away from the room while the cameras continued to roll on Ivan. He stood boldly, proclaiming his duties to his country and his people. Miranda began to panic as the United Nations Ambassador, who was seated beside her, was pulled away by his security and led out one of the back doors. Where was her security? What was going on? She glanced around nervously, uncertain if she should wait for one of them to grab her before she began to exit or if she should just pick one of the routes they went over earlier and hope to find one of the SEALs along the way. She started to stand just as Greg reached out and grabbed hold of her upper arm.

“I’m sorry, Ambassador. We must be leaving now.” He said, pulling her toward the back door to lead up the stairs to the landing pad. Miranda let out a relieved breath at the sight of him and followed closely behind him, matching his brisk pace.

“Team Leader to Echo, are we clear to land?” He asked into his radio. There was a crackling sound as the SEAL on the other end attempted to radio back and then it went dead.

“Team Leader to Echo, do you receive?” Greg tried again, pausing on a landing in the stairwell. People rushed past them toward the landing pad and other exits as he waited for his teammate to radio him back. If it wasn’t clear on the roof, he didn’t want to waste time taking the Ambassador all the way up there only to get her into a potentially more dangerous situation.

“Echo to Team Leader. There’s no clear air space, we are being redirected. Landing not clear.” A crackled voice came in over the radio. Greg grabbed Miranda’s hand and began racing down the stairs toward the basement tunnel.
Time for plan B.
He thought.

“Copy that. Have Dodge meet us at Plan B site for extraction.” He radioed. There was another crackle and more static as they descended the stairs deeper into the building.

“Team… der… No… streets… losed… Copy?” The broken voice said through the radio. Miranda tried to decipher what the man was trying to say, but Greg seemed undaunted and continued to push forward.

“What was he saying?” She asked, panting as they reached the bottom of the stairs. It was chaos above them with officials scrambling to get evacuated safely and security barricading the building against the growing rioters. Outside, the rioters were making horrible sounds as they broke through windows and damaged cars; she could make out screams and breaking glass in the pandemonium above them and it frightened her. She heard shouting as police and security entered into the fray and loud shots were fired making Miranda flinch. Greg didn’t answer her, he simply kept hold of her hand and pulled her onward through the dark tunnel. He turned the spotlight mounted on his rifle on and aimed it down the tunnel to guide them. Miranda did her best to keep up with his pace, but it was difficult on the slick stones in her high heels. She slipped twice and each time he caught her. Eventually, he forwent holding her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist to stabilize her.

“Just keep moving.” He told her, keeping his rifle pointed ahead of them. Miranda nodded against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him to stabilize herself as her shoes continued to slip. She briefly considered taking them off altogether, but one look at the damp and rat infested floor made her throw that idea out. Who knew what kind of diseases she could pick up walking with bare feet on this ground. Greg half-carried her for another quarter mile when they finally reached the exit point they had planned. Greg looked up and down the tunnel trying to decide what to do. Dodge radioed that the streets were closed and he was unable to bring the vehicle to this point. It was broken up over the radio, but they had had enough practice with the devices to understand partial sentences when they came through. A partial word could mean the difference of life or death on the missions they did.

“If we continue down this tunnel for another half-mile I have a car waiting and I can take us out of the city.” A strange voice said from behind them. Greg whipped around, his rifle raised and ready to fire upon the potential threat. Alexander strode out of the shadows, his own rifle aimed overhead so as not to be interpreted as a threat. He stopped in front of the two of them and raised an eyebrow, silently questioning whether or not they would follow him. Greg glanced down at Miranda who looked completely confused and overwhelmed and he nodded.

“Alright, lead the way.” Greg said, allowing Alexander to take the lead. Alexander bowed his head in acknowledgement and glanced over at Miranda before pushing out in front of them and leading them down the tunnel. Miranda debated asking Greg who he was be opted against it. She had seen the two attractive men talking earlier at the hall and they had seemed amicable enough then. He was clearly choosing to trust the man now, and that was all she needed to know at this current moment. She looked up as she heard thumps, scuffling, and distant shouting coming from the streets above.

“What is going on up there? Aren’t they glad Ivan won?” She asked aloud, not expecting to receive an answer.

“Oh they are pleased, but they had prepared for a riot so whether or not they got the outcome they wanted: there was going to be one.” Alexander said, taking a right down an even narrower tunnel. Miranda glanced at Greg, his face as rigid as a stone.
Did he know that?
She wondered. Greg had prepared for this, but when he was talking with her earlier he had made it sound like a peaceful celebration was an option. However, according to the English officer who was leading them—it never was.