Pulling a small mirror from her purse, she examined her makeup and the dress in an entirely different light from that of the happy young professional engineer she’d been when she purchased the item. In that dress, her life would change forever.
To Riley, the dress would always be what she’d worn when she committed murder.
“ARE WE HERE?” Charlotte Halverson asked as the limousine pulled up to the curb outside the Marriott Marquis hotel in downtown Washington, DC.
Mack Balkman had the lead on the bodyguard detail for his new boss. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And don’t call me ma’am,” the woman said. “It’s Charlie.”
“Yes, ma’am—Charlie.” Mack choked on calling his new boss by her first name. His years on active duty made him want to address his boss with the utmost respect. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his parents had insisted he address women older than him by their surnames. Calling Mrs. Halverson by her first name didn’t sit right in his books. But she was the boss, and if she wanted him to call her Pookie while standing on his head, he’d do it. She’d given him a job when most others wouldn’t have given him the time of day.
“Are my men in place?” Charlie asked.
“They are. We’ve got you covered.” He touched his headset. “All clear?”
Mustang, their point man who’d arrived on a motorcycle ahead of them, replied, “Ready as we can be. This place is crawling with people here to see the red-carpet show.”
Augustus “Gus” Walsh climbed out of the passenger seat of the limousine and opened the back door.
When Charlie started to slide across the seat, Mack touched her arm. “Normally, I’d say ladies first, but not tonight.”
“Right.” Charlie settled back and waited for Mack to exit the vehicle.
He stood, straightened the tuxedo she’d arranged for him to wear and patted the nine-millimeter SIG Sauer P226 tucked beneath his jacket. Under his white shirt and cummerbund, he wore a bulletproof vest. He’d already cleared his men through the service that had been hired to provide security for the annual gala. All they had to do was show their identification and they would bypass the metal detectors that would make all kinds of noise if they found guns or knives on those who passed through.
He held out his hand for Charlie and helped the older woman from the back of the limousine. Gus closed ranks, moving in on the other side of her. He used his body as a shield against any potential threat.
They couldn’t be too careful. Less than two weeks prior, an attempt had been made on Charlie’s life. Two vans full of bad guys had cornered her limousine on a busy DC street. They’d killed her previous bodyguards and attempted a kidnapping. Thankfully, former Force Recon marine Declan O’Neill, Mack’s old team leader, had been there to save her. She’d rewarded him by hiring him and his team to provide security for her or anyone she deemed in need of assistance.
“You gentlemen don’t know how safe it makes me feel to have highly qualified, loyal men protecting me.” Charlie patted his arm. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that Declan agreed to come on board and bring his team with him.”
“Ma’am—” Mack started.
“Charlie,” she said.
Gus smiled. “I don’t know about you, Mack, but I have a hard time calling her Charlie myself. She could be my mo—”
Charlie held up her hand. “Don’t say it.”
Gus clamped his lips shut.
Mack hid a smile.
“Don’t say I’m old enough to be your mother. I feel old enough as it is. But my mind is still sharp and I feel like a twenty-five-year-old, thanks to Edwardo, my personal trainer.” She lifted her chin. “And this dress makes me feel like a million bucks.” She sighed. “My husband would have liked me in it.”
“You look amazing, Charlie,” Mack said. “But I’d feel better if you looked amazing inside the hotel. Not out here on the streets where anything can happen.”
“Right.” Charlie forced a smile to her lips and stepped out on Mack’s arm.
He knew he appeared to be more a date than a bodyguard, but he didn’t care, as long as he had room under his jacket for a weapon. He scanned the crowds of people standing on the other side of a barricade. Photographers snapped pictures and bystanders watched as vehicles pulled up one by one, discharging well-dressed men and women onto the red carpet.
Mack and Gus eased their charge along.
Charlie smiled and waved at the reporters and the people like a celebrity on a walk of fame.
From what Declan had told Mack and the other men of his team, Declan’s Defenders, Mrs. Charlotte Halverson was a kind of celebrity in her own right. The rich widow of a prominent philanthropist, she’d rubbed elbows with some of the most influential people of the century, from Hollywood movie stars to the leaders of many countries, including the president of the United States.
Charlie stopped and waited her turn to have her official photograph taken in front of the gala’s backdrop. Ahead of her was a younger couple, the woman wearing a fancy silver gown with sequins and a diamond necklace that probably cost more than what Mack had made in a year as a marine.
He didn’t envy the woman her jewelry or the money it took to buy it. Instead, he cringed at the amount of money wasted on jewelry that could be given to the charity the gala was raising money for.
But he wasn’t there to judge the people attending; he was employed to keep Charlie safe.
When it was Charlie’s turn to have her picture taken, she insisted on Mack standing with her.
“Wouldn’t you rather have one of your
