A female voice came on over the clip. “This video arrived in our email early this morning with a message from the attacker stating that O’Neil couldn’t replace her and win…”
She went on, and I’d already tuned her out, turning to face Mac, my entire body on red alert, ready to take action. “Is she okay? Have you talked to her?”
Mac took me in, my pounding veins and my concerned face, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, she’s okay.”
“What the hell kind of security allows someone to get that close?” I asked. The relief of knowing Dani was okay did little to loosen the stranglehold that had taken over my heart.
He was nodding. “Right? Fucking morons. She needs a better team.”
He was texting on his phone before I could say anything else. “I’m asking Granddad what private security services they’ve used in the past for the Matherton rallies.”
It was five in the morning, the sun barely starting to wake up, and we were huddled in the living room of their condo while, somewhere in Miami, Dani was dealing with another attack. An attack that hadn’t been meant for her but had certainly hit her all the same.
Had she handled it in normal Dani fashion, acting as if it wasn’t a big deal? Or had she crumbled apart as it triggered thoughts of an asshole who had assaulted her a year ago? God damn, someone needed to be there to protect her. Someone who knew the holes that had been evident in a twenty-second clip.
“I’ll go.” I said the words before I’d even thought them through. Mac looked up from his phone.
“What?”
“Tell me who the fuck owns the security company. I’ll have a chat with them, and then I’ll head down to Miami.”
“You can’t work for a security team. No way the command will approve it as a second job, temporary or not,” Mac said.
“I’m on leave. I’m not suggesting I pick up a paycheck. I’m suggesting I go down there as a nonpaid consultant and tell them where the hell they went wrong.”
“While, on the one hand, I know I could trust you with my sister’s life, she’ll be pissed,” Mac said, but his face turned into a wry grin. “Really pissed.”
I shrugged but thought he was likely right for more reasons than he knew. I’d hurt her, and a dance at a wedding hadn’t fixed that. I wasn’t sure I could ever fix it. I wasn’t sure I should. My body sure as hell wanted her to forgive me. But as screwed up as I seemed at the moment, it was even more reason to not be in any kind of relationship. It was more reason than Mac wanting to hang me out from a balcony by my toes for trying anything with his sister. But all of that didn’t mean I could stand by while she got hurt because some stupid-ass security team didn’t know what they were doing.
“What’s she gonna do?” I asked, forcing my normal cocky smile back on my face. “Get me fired from a job I’m not getting paid to do?”
Mac chuckled. “Don’t put it past Dani.”
He still hesitated.
“Look,” I said, hand coasting over my scar. “It’ll keep my mind off of all the things I can’t control at the moment.”
Putting my arms around a mission. An op. It seemed like the perfect solution to keep me from losing my shit altogether, and I’d damn well make sure nothing touched her again.
Mac nodded. “Let me see what I can find out.”
♫ ♫ ♫
Several hours later, I got out of the CarShare in front of a five-star hotel in Jacksonville where Brady and his team were holed up for the next two nights. According to Wayne Garner, who owned the private security company working for the country singer, the next concert would be at a venue in town the next day. They were all supposed to be sitting tight after a rehearsal at the stadium earlier this morning.
Garner and I had talked for a long time. He was a retired Army Ranger, and I had a shitload of respect for Rangers. The feeling was normally mutual, but when I’d pointed out the holes I’d seen in his security team after rewatching the news clip, he’d been pissed and embarrassed. When I’d offered my services for free, he’d agreed, and we’d decided I’d come down without his team knowing it, do a further assessment, and then work with him and his lead agent to fix it.
As I stepped from the car, I easily spotted the bodyguard at the door of the hotel. He was idly watching the people in the lobby. His earpiece was on display, and he was grinning at a beautiful set of legs that walked by him. I could have disarmed and disabled him in a thousand different ways. He was a joke. Worse, it was pure laziness. Laziness was about the biggest enemy to a SEAL there was.
I wanted to knock the crap out of the stupid-ass man just to wake him up. Instead, I took pictures, not even trying to be subtle. The guy actually stretched out his wide shoulders and peacocked a little when he saw me snapping shots.
I hit the elevators, getting off on the floor below the penthouse. There was no security there. Nothing at the stairs; the alarm didn’t even go off when I opened the emergency exit. When I jogged up the final steps to the top floor, there was still no security. The door was locked—normal hotel protocol—but I jiggled it open with my knife and slid it open with no one stopping me on the other side. When I got to the actual doors of the penthouse, I encountered two more men. Both in suits. One was on alert, scanning the hallway and meeting my eyes with his sunglass-covered ones as soon as I rounded the corner. The other one was
