"I don't need a bodyguard," Piper insisted. She stared at the two flat tires of her custom-painted Mercedes SL and tried hard to only feel outrage.
This was Mockingbird, Texas, for heaven's sake. One of the most exclusive communities outside of Houston. This should not be happening and she refused to be scared.
If she let herself feel afraid, then she'd have to be honest about it and listen to her stepsister. She looked up to Danni, had tried and failed to emulate her, and loved her dearly. Danni was more like a full sister to her in every way that mattered. She hated hearing the concern in her voice.
"It's the third vandalism this month," Danni pointed out.
"This is just a coincidence. Maybe I keep running over the same nail," she commented, hoping to ease her sister's concerns.
"The same one that scraped a line from one bumper to the other two weeks ago?"
Piper's stomach tightened. "No one could have gotten this close. Nothing's triggered the security system." Even to her own ears, she sounded less than convinced.
"Scary, not comforting," her sister said. "The Stanley's system never went off either, and they had fifty-thousand dollars worth of jewelry and coins stolen from their house."
Danni moved past her and marched to the other side of the car. "All four tires is not a coincidence, Piper. This was deliberate."
Piper reluctantly walked around the bumper. She tried not to notice how her Fendi python pumps clicked across the flagstones of the driveway, sounding unpleasantly like distant gun fire. She stopped behind Danni and peered over her shoulder.
A light breeze blew the scent of gardenia across them and her sister brushed her golden-red hair out of her face. She pointed an immaculate French-tipped forefinger at the tires. "There's a cut in this one. Like from a knife." She leveled a severe frown at Piper and then something else caught her attention. "Is that a note on the windshield?"
Piper turned around. A creepy chill ran down her back at the sight of a folded piece of paper stuck under the windshield wiper. Her legs trembled as she went around the car and retrieved it. She unfolded the paper and read the brief message while Danni looked over her shoulder.
"This has gotten serious, Piper," her sister said in a low voice. "Will you please get a bodyguard? At least for a little while?"
The worry chewing at the edge of Piper's stomach took a big chomp. She ignored the uncomfortable churning of distress and focused on being irritated.
She so didn't need this aggravation. Not now. She had enough going on and a lot of people counting on her. This constant harassment was getting unpleasantly inconvenient, and now borderline terrifying. But a bodyguard? That was clearly impossible.
"I'd rather not have some hulking gorilla following me all over town while I organize the graduation. What would the Ladies say? I'm always telling them that they can take care of themselves. That they don't need to rely on a man. How would it look?"
"It would look a lot better than you landing in the hospital. You don't have to be responsible for everyone, Piper. You don't have to fix everything. Except this. This you have to fix."
"Can I use your car?"
Danni's midnight blue eyes sharpened. "Have you been listening to anything I've said?" Planting her fists on her slim hips, she glared down at Piper. Unfortunately, Danni was not only three years older, but nearly as many inches taller. "Call Uncle Theo. Now. Get him to recommend someone. Hire that person and then you can borrow my car. The Audi, not the Continental."
Piper matched her stance and scowled. Sometimes Danni could be way too bossy and exasperating for her own good. "We should call the police."
"And upset Mother? You know how excitable she is."
"How will I explain a bodyguard to her? Did you think of that?" she said.
"We'll figure something out. Your safety is the first priority."
Piper sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. Darn it, she had a point. But the whole idea rubbed her the wrong way.
She shouldn't need help from anyone. She had it all — money, excellent health, a loving family. Even when her father had died unexpectedly, she hadn't been left alone. She'd had Danni and her stepmom.
She should be the one helping other people, not the other way around.
But she also needed to be sensible. Flat tires, ruined paint jobs and now a threatening note. Who knew what tomorrow might bring? Piper suppressed a shudder.
"Fine, I'll do it. Just to stop the nagging. Not because I'm scared, or anything," she added.
"I never said you were scared, sweetie, but I sure am." A smile touched Danni's mouth.
Piper rummaged through her python clutch and fished out her iPhone. She hated showing weakness. Danni never did and neither had Dad. In her own way, even Mother was a force to be reckoned with.
"Do you mind?" Piper said, giving Danni a pointed look as she pressed the Theo icon and put the phone to her ear.
Her sister's smile deepened. "I don't trust you to go through with it."
"I'm stubborn, not stupid, D."
"That's up for debate."
"Hello?" Uncle Theo's voice said in Piper's ear.
She greeted him enthusiastically, glaring at Danni the whole time.
"You and Danielle are fighting, again, aren't you?" her late father's closest friend said, amusement in his voice.
"Of course not. Well, kind of." She glanced at Danni and grimaced. "I'm having a little problem and I might need some help."
"Anything, Piper. Just name it," he said, his tone shifting instantly from light to serious.
She released a resigned breath. "I may have a stalker."
* * *
Piper stopped the Audi at the end of the dirt driveway and studied the modest ranch. The feeling that this wasn't going to end well continued to nag at her.
On the other hand, once again her car was in the shop and some unknown kook had managed to get within fifteen feet of her house undetected. Creeped out didn't even begin to describe the cold chill running down her back at the thought.
No, she had to do this, like it or not. Short of picking a name randomly out of the phone book, she had to trust Uncle Theo's judgment. He'd said this guy was one of the best.
She eyed the house skeptically. For someone so good, he didn't seem to be doing too well. Maybe she should call her godfather back and ask for the name of the best.
The beige vinyl siding of the single story house looked like it had seen better days. There were no curtains at the windows and the gray paint on the front door and porch railings clung half-heartedly in ragged patches that looked dreadful.
There was definitely potential here, she admitted, eying the sunny spread of lawn and thick-trunked live oaks that cluttered around the house. But without some attention the little house was doomed.
A can of paint and a few curtains were not beyond most people's means, Piper mused, disapproval giving a sour edge to her lack of enthusiasm. She had to conclude that this Jensen person simply didn't care, was incredibly lazy, or both.
She pictured an unkempt middle-aged man, balding and with a ponderous couch-potato belly. Her confidence sagged as low as the roof of the barn behind the house. This could not be the address of someone Uncle Theo had spoken of in such glowing terms.
She double-checked the GPS on the console. No, she was at the right address, such as it was. This was the man he wanted her to hire.
Piper shifted the Audi out of Park and cruised carefully down the last fifty yards of pitted dirt. As she got closer, the back of her neck buzzed with a touch of light energy, like invisible fingers fluttering across her skin.
She gripped the soft leather of the steering wheel tighter. Every time her intuition flared up like that, fate threw the equivalent of a designer knockoff into her life. Not a good sign.
She should call the police and let them deal with the problem. Of course, then she'd be stuck managing the horrified drama that Mother would kick up.
Things were tense enough between them because of the upcoming Ladies' graduation celebration. If Mother knew there was a stalker slinking around, she would flat out forbid having the event at the house.
Piper rubbed the back of her neck. Either way was a potential mess. She'd just have to get this over with, claim he wasn't right for the job, and then try to find a new solution.
Pulling around the curved drive, she cruised to a stop in front of the porch. A brown and white spotted dog lay on the steps watching her curiously.
Piper eyed the hound, at least she thought that's what it was. A flutter of trepidation moved through her stomach. Was it friendly? How could you tell?
She liked animals, they seemed straightforward and honest and she could respect that, but she'd seldom had the opportunity to be around them. What was the protocol for greeting a guard dog?
Cautiously, she opened the car door and stepped out, glad the Audi was between her and the house. "Um, I realize you don't know me, but would you mind if I came up onto the porch and rang the doorbell?" she called out. "If there is one."
The dog's floppy ears pricked forward and it cocked its head.
"I'm not a burglar, or anything. I promise."
The dog's right ear flicked.
"That's probably what a burglar would say, isn't it?"
The hound's attention swung toward the porch steps to her left. Piper followed the animal's gaze and her eyes widened. She had just enough time to squeak before a large and tremendously fluffy black dog raced from under the porch and launched itself toward her.
She fell back a step as the animal jumped, its plumey tail waving frantically. Muddy paw prints smeared across the skirt and bodice of her new Valentino dress and she gasped.
Her horror mounting, Piper frantically pushed the dog away before it did any more damage to the soft, red fabric. The animal leaped at her again, joyfully nipping at her hands in between trying to lick her face.
"That is enough!" she said, her throat tightening with every word.
Much to her surprise, the dog jumped down and backed away a few paces, tail still waving like a flag. They studied each other for a moment and then the dog gave a happy yip and started for her again.
"No," Piper said in the firm tone she occasionally had to use on one of her Ladies. "Your behavior is not acceptable."
The dog stopped.
"You will not treat haute couture so disrespectfully, young..." she hesitated, trying to get a bead on the dog's gender. No luck. Too much fluff.
She pointed her forefinger at the animal. "Young dog," she concluded haughtily. "And wipe that smile off your face."
The animal gave another sharp, happy bark and sat down, its tail sweeping across the dirt.
She narrowed her gaze at it. "I hope your master has better manners than you."
"Don't count on it," a smooth, radio-worthy male voice said behind her.
"Gah!" Jumping, Piper spun around and came face-to-face with a strong throat and broad, muscular, very naked chest. She sucked in a gasp of surprise and a heady, outdoorsy male scent swept into her, scrambling her thoughts instantly.
Mesmerized, her gaze drifted down to well-worn jeans riding low over narrow hips, long legs, scuffed cowboy boots, and back up past mouth-watering abs to the smooth, tanned perfection of a gorgeous chest. Places deep inside her went hot and wet and her knees wobbled a bit.
She swallowed and willed herself to meet the cool, gold-brown eyes gazing at her with disapproval. He was no more than thirty and a little over six feet she'd guess. His hair was the color of dark chocolate and shagged across his forehead and around his sharp cheekbones before falling almost to his shoulders. Just in front of his left ear, a thin white scar tracked down to the wedge of his jaw, making him look dangerous and...piratey.
Wow.
Her heartbeat accelerated and she licked her lips. "Um...Alex Jensen?"
"Maybe."
"Bodyguard?" she asked, her voice cracking.
He narrowed his eyes. "Occasionally."
Her gaze tracked over his gorgeous body again. She couldn't help herself.
"What kind of guarding did you have in mind? Exactly."
His voice flowed over her like honey and she blinked, struggling to focus. Nothing stoked her stove like a smooth bedroom voice.
"Why aren't you bald and fat?" she blurted out, attempting to distract herself from a situation that was quickly deteriorating into a lovely fantasy.
A sparkle of humor warmed the frost in his gaze. "Come back in thirty years."
She did another body check. "Hard to imagine."
"You never know. I could let myself go." He quirked a dark brow at her. "Why are you here?"
"Hmmm? Oh." The enjoyment of flirting with him died suddenly as the annoyance of her problem flooded over her in painful detail. "You were recommended to me as a bodyguard who had some investigating experience. I could use both."
His expression turned distant. "Sorry. I'm busy." He turned away from her and headed toward the barn. The black dog trotted after him. The brown and white hound jumped off the porch and joined them.
Shocked amazement froze her to the spot. Had he just turned his back on her and walked away?
She watched the corded muscles along his back bunch with every step. Dropping her point of study, she momentarily appreciated the way his jeans cupped the tight contours of his butt.
He was one-hundred percent distracting, no question, but men never blew her off. Especially not a bite-able pirate.
"Uncle Theo said you were the best," she called after him.
He kept walking, drat him.
Shifting her weight to her other foot, Piper considered her options. She hesitated to throw down the ace she'd been told to use.
It sounded weird and didn't make a drop of sense. Almost like a code, which was completely ridiculous. Maybe this guy was a movie buff and it was some kind of inside joke between him and Uncle Theo?
Her panic thickened as Mr. Jensen closed in on the barn. In these particular shoes she didn't have a chance of catching him. Grass and dirt and heels this high did not mix well.
She took a deep breath and ignored the tingling at the back of her neck. "He said to tell you 'the zombies are back!'" she shouted.
He stopped and went utterly still. The dogs at his heel looked at him and whined, their tails drooping.
Something about the set of his shoulders sent a sudden spike of fear into her stomach. Piper took an instinctive step back as he slowly turned around. Even from several yards away she could see the stormy anger on his face. He strode back toward her, his long legs eating up the distance in seconds.
He halted only inches away, the salty, male scent of him wrapping around her like a fist. "What did you say?" he growled.
She held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "You heard me."
"Say it," he ordered.
Every inch of her simmered with awareness and she wasn't sure if she wanted to jump him or scream and faint. She pressed her back against the cool metal of the car, hoping to get a little breathing room.
"He said...to tell you...that the zombies are back? I don't know what that means. He said you'd know."
"Uncle Theo did," he stated.
She nodded.
"Who the hell is he?"
"My godfather?" she answered, her voice rising with the tension ramping up along her nerves.
"You're not sure?"
Piper ran her tongue over her lips and tried to swallow. Her mouth felt like the Sahara. "Theodore Vernon is my godfather. Ted. Most people call him Ted."
He stared at her for a moment and then ground out a harsh curse. A dangerous intensity rippled off of him like heat waves as his gaze traveled over her. She had the disconcerting impression that if anyone asked, he'd be able to accurately tell her weight, height, and bra size. Maybe even what she'd had for lunch.
Piper felt a blush spread over her cheeks, which was a rare and disconcerting experience. She hadn't blushed over a guy for years. She didn't know whether to be fascinated or resentful.
His chest expanded and he released a long, slow breath. The antagonism seemed to leak out of him, settling into a wary tension that was somehow less comforting than his irritation had been.
"You'd better come in." With a final once-over, he ordered the dogs to stay outside, then turned and stalked toward the house.
Piper had never felt so intimidated by a man in her life—or so intrigued. He was dangerous, she was sure of it. But was he a danger to her? He was also unpredictable, possibly volatile, and uncomfortably observant.
She didn't trust him for a minute. Despite that unsettling fact, she had to admit that he'd make one heck of a bodyguard and probably an even better investigator. If she wanted to hire him.
All things considered, she was sure employing this guy would be a bad idea. Of course, feeling obligated to make good decisions that kept life safe and predictable was more Danni's thing, than hers.
Being true to oneself was a personal philosophy of hers.
She followed him.
* * *
Ted had pulled the zombie card.
Alex still had three days left on his vacation. Why did his director release the emergency call-in code for a new recruit to use? It didn't make sense.
Alex watched the woman delicately pick her way toward one of his better chairs. She lowered herself gingerly to the edge, crossed her long, sleek legs demurely and gave him an expectant look.
She was magnificently beautiful; classy, even with the muddy paw prints all over her. The kind of woman men dreamed about, but few got. The kind you see in movies and magazines. The sheltered, spoiled kind.
In looks, the perfect recruit for the under-the-radar, government branch known only as Department 23. In experience, not so much.
She looked just shy of five-five, after accounting for the impractical, strappy shoes she wore. The sleeveless dress incasing her perfect figure was the same bright shade of red as the polish on her toes and the lipstick on her sexy, cupid-bow mouth. She not only paid attention to detail, but was vain about her looks.
The ruffle around the modest neckline and small bow at the waist gave her a girlish air, which seemed at odds with the confident way she carried herself. Added together, he'd peg her age at late-twenties, though most people probably thought she was younger.
Her silky straight, caramel-blonde hair bounced just below her ears, curving in a bit to frame a round face and showcase her delicate features and summer green, see-into-your-soul eyes.
She didn't look like she'd care to associate with terrorists and criminals. She was too fresh, too new, too good at making the front of his jeans feel three sizes smaller every time he looked at her. But she'd used the code.
Alex smelled a con.
His team had never dared to play one of their jokes on him before, but there was a first time for everything. He'd been on vacation for two weeks working on the ranch, maybe they missed him. Maybe they were just bored.
When he got his hands on them, he planned to make boredom seem like heaven.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Alex leaned against the doorframe that led to the kitchen and gave her his sternest look. "What's your name and why did Ted send you?"
She brushed at the mud on her skirt before giving him an assessing look. Her gaze tracked across his chest adding at least another half inch to his full salute. "I admit that the view is impressive, but it's hard to focus on business with you standing there half dressed."
"Depends on the business," he drawled.
She pursed her lips as her darker blonde brows arched up. "That's a little too fast even for me, Mr. Jensen."
"Name," he demanded.
"Shirt." She held his gaze steadily.
Alex waited, letting the silence thicken between them. In his experience, few people could stand for a conversation to stall to nothing.
Her cheeks slowly turned pink. "Piper Roseland," she finally said, a tight undertone of annoyance in her voice.
He'd never heard of her, so he watched a moment longer before pushing away from the doorframe. "Wait here."
Cutting across his small living room, he ambled down the short hall to the master bedroom, a generous title considering the reality of the cluttered eleven-by-eleven room. A moment later, he came out wearing his favorite Rolling Stones T-shirt.
When she didn't notice his return, he paused in the hall, noting her preoccupation with the living room and the way her small, classic nose had scrunched up with disapproval. Tracking the direction of her gaze, he saw his house through her eyes. It wasn't pretty.
Piles of clutter filled the corners, the couch had a big gash where Nipper had chewed on it, many of the books and folders stacked on the tables had a respectable layer of dust, and there were more than a few dirty coffee mugs sitting around.
The only part of the living room that wasn't old and ratty was the forty-inch flat screen over the fireplace.
Something that felt like embarrassment heated his gut at the sight of this stunning woman sitting in the middle of his dirt. When had he become such a slob? No wonder Amy hesitated to send Jessica to him for the summer.
He moved out of the shadows and she tensed, looking suddenly toward the hall. Her gaze flickered over him and she relaxed a little. "Thanks."
Sauntering past her chair, he took up his post by the kitchen.
"Would you mind sitting down? I'm getting a cramp in my neck," she said.
"You're full of orders, you know that?"
"And you're really tall."
"It's my house. State your business and be on your way."
"I don't understand why Uncle Theo thinks so highly of you. My impression so far puts your personality somewhere between unpleasant and horrifying."
"Don't forget impatient."
Her smooth jaw tightened. "I need a bodyguard and investigator. I'll pay you twenty-thousand dollars if you take the job."
The outrageous amount moved his assessment of the situation solidly into the let's-try-and-get-one-over-on-the-boss category. The only question was if both of them were the intended victims, or just him.
He kept his expression neutral and held his gaze steadily on the girl. "That's a helluva lot of money."
"My baby's a helluva car. Custom-painted turquoise with white trim."
"And you want me to guard it?" he asked flatly. Who painted their car turquoise? Alex would bet a case of beer that Neil was behind this. The guy had no sense of boundaries. He'd prank the President if he ever got the chance.
"I want you to guard everything, Mr. Jensen. Me, my family, my car, whatever's needed."
"That's a pretty broad job description."
"Thirty thousand, then."
Gorgeous woman, ridiculous assignment, imaginary money—definitely Neil. It didn't even surprise him that the guy had ferreted out his and Ted's code phrase. Finding info that wasn't meant to be found was one of his specialties.
"There's one other thing," she said, a frown of worry skating across her face. She opened her purse and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. "This was left on the car. That's never happened before."
Alex took the paper. "Next time it might be the brakes," he read aloud. "Stop interfering in people's lives." He handed it back to her.
"What do you think?"
"Whoever wrote this can't spell. 'Interfering' only has one 'e' after the 'f.'"
"But do we have a deal, Mr. Jensen?" she asked, her face showing nothing but complete sincerity.
Alex slouched against the frame of the door, more than willing to play for a while, anyway. "You mentioned some PI work. Don't forget to throw that in."
She leaned forward. "So, you'll do it?"
"What would I be investigating?"
"My sister's convinced that someone's vandalizing my car to threaten me, but the security system hasn't caught anyone. If you could find out what's going on and stop it before anything worse happens, that would be excellent."
She gave him an expectant half smile with just the right touch of seduction behind it. He had to admit that Ted had done his usual insightful job when he'd hired her. With those legs, it was just a matter of time before Piper Roseland was invincible.
"I'll need at least fifty grand for a job like that," he said, keeping his tone steady. "To cover expenses."
Her smile died. "Really?" She made a visible effort to recover her composure. "Um...of course. There's always expenses, right?"
She cleared her throat. "In old detective movies, there are, so I guess this wouldn't be any different. I can go as high as forty. After that, the expense bumps over and shows up on Danni's monthly report. She'll have a fit."
Detective movies? And who the hell was Danny? Looked like he'd overestimated her, legs and all. Pitiful. He couldn't keep up the ruse.
Alex huffed out an ironic chuckle. He wanted her to know that he was onto her, and at the same time put her at ease. New agent egos could be delicate things.
"What are you in training for, Ms. Roseland?"
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
He ambled across the room and braced his hands on the armrests of her chair, boxing her in. "Is Ted your immediate supervisor or did he put you under me?"
"Supervisor?" She stared up at him, concern and a healthy dose of confusion clearly reflected in her eyes. "Um,...I'm not sure what you mean. I don't do anything under anyone."
"Are you sure?" He leaned toward her, his gaze boring into hers. Her scent, like sun-filled meadows, drifted over him as her cheeks turned bright pink—the one physical reaction that couldn't be faked.
Alarm splashed across her features and she hastily scooted away, pressing up against the back of the chair. Had he ever been that inexperienced, he wondered?
Of course he had. They all had. That's why they'd picked her. Probably told her how much he loved a good joke and how this would help her get in good with him. Poor kid.
"You had me going for a moment, I admit it. Cards on the table, now, okay?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Neil's behind this, isn't he. He's always pulling stunts on the new recruits."
Her lips parted on a quick intake of breath, catching his attention. A low vibration of heat purred to life deep in his gut as his gaze slid over her mouth.
Alex reflexively pushed the impulse to kiss her down. He had a hard and fast policy never to mess with coworkers. No quicker way to compromise the integrity of an assignment than sex with another agent.
Leveraging off of the chair, he took a couple steps back. "Tell him to lower the price next time. It was a dead giveaway." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Feel lucky all he did was send you here. The last new guy found himself in Juarez, Mexico without his pants."
Gripping her car keys like a lifeline, she watched him warily, eyes as big as saucers. "I'm...very confused, Mr. Jensen. I really do need a detective and bodyguard."
"Alex. Call me Alex."
She pulled in a shaky breath. "Who is Neil?"
A cold, sinking feeling spread through his chest. He made an effort to calm his thoughts while the genuine worry in her eyes shifted toward apprehension.
"You don't work for Ted?" he finally asked.
"I don't work, Mr....uh, Alex. Not in the conventional sense."
"Ted. I mean your Uncle Theo sent you, right?"
She nodded, a hint of fear tightening around her eyes.
He inwardly winced. "And he's really your uncle?"
"He was Dad's roommate in college. He's my—"
"Your godfather. Right. You said that." Well, hell. He didn't even know Ted had any family. Looked like the code she'd given was legitimate.
"Maybe we'd better start over," he said.
"I'd like to go now, please."
Guilt pricked at his conscience. "I thought you were someone else."
"Perfectly understandable." She scooted carefully to the front of the chair and then stood up slowly as if afraid any sudden movement might set him off. "I must have gotten mixed up about the address."
She gave him a brittle smile and edged toward the door. "I had a friend once whose GPS told her to turn right off a cliff. She didn't of course, but it just goes to show."
He'd heard that tone before. That false, bubbly cheer one reserved for other people's difficult children and crazy people.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot." He took a step toward her with his hand out, but stopped when she skittered toward the door even faster.
"No problem. Really. A mistake anyone could make." Her slender fingers clutched the doorknob. "I'm so sorry to have bothered you. Good luck with your, um, dogs." With a quick tug, she pulled the door wide and darted out of the house. He heard her order Nipper to back off, followed by the sound of her shoes clattering down the wooden steps.
Irrationally, the urge to stop her pulled at him. Some long-buried part of him wanted to explain that he wasn't a homicidal maniac, then take her to lunch and get her to laugh about the whole thing over coffee.
Instead he stood stock still, pulling in slow, steady breaths as her car door slammed, then the smooth purr of the Audi's engine started up. Tires crunched on gravel, quickly fading into the distance as she hot-footed it back to civilization like the devil was on her tail.
Annoyance simmered up under his ribcage. He hadn't felt this stupid since the day he'd asked Carol Marshwood out in the seventh grade and she'd laughed in his face. Alex gritted his teeth and pulled his cellphone out of his front pocket.
Ted better have a damn good explanation for what had just happened here.
"I'm on vacation," he said, when Ted answered. "Don't you have another agent you can call in?"
"Cry me a river," his Director said in his usual, curmudgeonly tone. "When she asked for help with some punk stalker problem, I saw a golden opportunity and took it."
"I thought she was a recruit."
"Piper? Hell, I'm not even convinced she's involved. I don't think any of them are, but the CIA feels differently."
A spark of interest fired up along Alex's nerves. There was only one on-going assignment from the CIA that would warrant a call-in. "You think she's connected to the Azevedos?"
"I just said I didn't. Pay attention."
Normally Ted's abrasive ways with his agents amused Alex, but after what he'd just gone through it was all he could do not to snap out a sharp reply. "Talk to me," he said, instead.
"Yesterday, the Feds intercepted a cellphone call from one of the Azevedo lieutenants to the Roseland house, but it was too short to get any significant data. They want us to investigate. Find out who got that call and why."
"And since policy forbids agents working cases involving family members, you can't be directly involved. I assume the Roselands don't know anything about what you really do?"
"Now you're catching on. When she called, I grabbed the chance at a good cover story for my top agent."
"Except she didn't hire me."
"What?" Ted shouted.
Alex moved the phone away to save his hearing.
"Tell me you didn't make a pass at her and scare her off, Jensen. This girl's like a daughter to me. Guess how I'd feel about it if you tried to sleep with my daughter?"
In his time, Ted had been a force to be reckoned with. There were still rumors about the dent he'd made in the KGB back in the day.
"I'd rather not think about it, sir," Alex said.
"Glad we understand each other. Now explain to me how you plan to handle damage control."