Chapter Twenty
I was confident Agent King was unaware we’d given him the slip and that we hadn’t picked up a tail, but after leaving Newport Beach I drove around Los Angeles for two hours listening to Margie and Patricia bickering in the backseat before I headed for Pacific Palisades. And yes, I pried the keys from Margie’s fingers before I climbed into the driver’s seat.
Like hell was I letting her drive me anywhere.
The car was bad enough.
Margie behind the wheel was not happening.
The next stop was safety for Mom and Ella, in the only place on earth I would trust them to be holed up without me. It was also the only place I could go for big sums of cash on a moment’s notice—piles of US dollars were what I needed to get info fast in Colombia—and private transport south of the border that wouldn’t include a TSA security check and customs.
As I pulled into the half-mile driveway with its ten-foot wall, cameras every five feet, and double-secured iron gate, I hadn’t figured out yet which contact I should call to have my back in Bogotá. Every man I trusted was with Jena, and were, I feared, hunting Leland.
Recruiting the right man to go to Colombia with me might very well be the hardest task today. A man you trusted with your life was a rare thing. The five men on earth I counted on in and out of combat—Jared, Dillon, Jamal, Clark, Weston—were on Team Jena and no use to me. In fact, their mission and mine were opposing.
Damn.
I hated every bit of this situation, but if my man was in trouble, I would be there with him and ask questions later. No ifs, ands, or buts.
And Leland was my man.
Nothing had changed that in our month apart and I was damn sure nothing ever would. Through it all—and he did at times push me to my limits—not for a second had I stopped loving him.
Clear confirmation from my heart where I should go and what my mission should be. The two hours of circuitous driving had succeeded in clearing the static from my head.
“Where are we, Graham?” Patricia inquired, her eyes rapidly searching the scene beyond the windshield.
“A friend’s house. The safest place in California, Mom. I designed the security and trained the men here myself. Not even the FBI can get in here. It’s more secure than the White House.”
I turned back toward my window as the security box door opened and one of my Black Star guys appeared, at first waving off the car in aggravation—crud, I’d forgotten I was driving a stop-sign yellow Hornet. Great, this story was going to make the rounds through the crew here before nightfall.
Then his eyes widened and I knew the second Ryan recognized me—the oh shit, it’s him expression rose to his face, even before I flashed my identification.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Carson. Are you here to do a walk-through of the security systems or should I phone up to the house?”
“Is the big dog here?” I asked, tucking my billfold back in my breast pocket.
Ryan nodded. “The whole family. Hot Mama. The Divas. Full house except Diva One. Do you have an appointment?”
I arched a brow both at his using those awful code names for our clients that tended to be unstoppable with the men and because he had the audacity to ask if I had an appointment. “No, and I don’t need one. Open the gate and ring up to the house and tell him I’m here.”
Him—I purposely didn’t name-drop because Patricia and Margie would be a handful soon enough.
My fingers tightened on the steering wheel as I waited for the guard to hop to it, and fuck, he looked undecided. Crap, it was the car.
“Now, Ryan. I haven’t got all day,” I snapped.
My tone of voice sprang him into action. “Yes, sir.”
The gate started to open and he hurried to grab his cell phone to call the main house. Security protocol breach. Clear scene of the vehicle, stay on guard until gate completely closed, and then go for the phone.
Fuck, the men were getting sloppy here.
I was following up on this first thing when I got back from Bogotá.
A cloud of new exhaust fumes—Inga didn’t like to idle—trailed behind us as I drove to the main house and parked in the cluster of fancy sport cars there.
“Oh my,” Patricia gasped. “You know someone who lives here?”
“Yep, Mom. I do.” I opened my door, set one foot on the pavement, and angled my body to directly stare at all three females in the car. Well, actually just Patty and Margie. Ella would behave all on her own. “Listen, this is a good friend. A man I’d count on and trust with my life. He doesn’t deserve to be bothered, harassed, fawned over, touched, or anything. Treat him with restraint and respect.”
Patricia rolled her eyes. “Really, Graham, what must you think of us? We don’t fawn. Marge and I are too old for that nonsense. And where do you think you learned how to be polite? From me. I don’t need a lecture on proper behavior.”
I’d barely gotten out of the car when the front doors burst wide and three children ran out: a ten-year-old girl followed by twin boys of seven. Built-in playmates for Ella. Yes, this was not a bad plan. That is if Mom could be less Mom while they stayed here.
“Graham,” Krystal cried, throwing herself into my arms. I was soon crouched on my haunches and hugging all three children.
“Hey, Princess, it’s good to see you.” I kissed her on the head and moved to the boys. “You kids staying in line without me?”
Krystal giggled.
Ethan nodded and Eric smirked.
Twins but opposite.
Some things never changed.
“What are you doing here?” Krystal gushed. “You never come to the house to visit us anymore.”
“I’ve been out of the country working, Krystal.”
“Are you replacing Dillon with the security team? Is that why you’re here?”
She said it as if that would agreeable to her, though it was also apparent Dillon’s abrupt absence bothered her, and I ignored the discomfort it brought to me to think that Dillon was in the field with Jena. “No, Krystal. I’m just here to see your pop.”
“Who’s that?” Ethan asked shyly.
I shifted on my heels to find Ella hovering close beside me and looking distressed by my openly expressed affection for these kids.
I put an arm around her. “This is Ella. My girl. I thought she might want to visit with you kids. Do you think you all can find something to do so I can talk privately with your dad?”
Krystal’s eyes brightened as she nodded and held out her hand. “Come on, Ella. I’ll show you my room.”
Ella ignored the offered fingers, stepped in front of me, and stared me down with anxious eyes. “You won’t leave, will you, Poppy?”
Damn. Kids had internal instincts nearly as good as mine—I hadn’t even told Patricia I was heading out once I got them settled here—but, damn, somehow my girl knew all on her own and I didn’t want that. She’d been through enough the last few days.
I laughed as though she were being silly, but seeing her worry hurt. “Never, sweetheart. I’ll be right inside the house, too. I promise. So will Grandma and Margie.”
In my peripheral, I noted Krystal watching in her smart, alert way. “It’ll be OK, Ella. We’ll have fun and Graham always keeps his word.”
“Yep, I do,” I said firmly.
Finally, the kids took off around the side of the house as the front door opened. I straightened up and smiled in the direction of that mesmerizing, penetrating stare.
“Look what the wind blew in,” he said in that way he had that made everyone feel like they were important to him. He rapidly closed the space between us and extended his hand first. “Glad to see you, Graham. I thought you were living in Mexico these days. What are you doing here?”
My men and Jena might have shut me out, but I had my own ace up my sleeve—my A team. Tussled, shoulder-length black hair. Black eyes. Perfect features. Looking like he’d just fallen out of a music video, even with that precious cargo he had in his arms. But the kind of man who never let a friend down.
“Do you have a few minutes and someplace we can talk privately?”
His jet brows went up on his forehead in surprise. “Sure. Always for you, Graham. You know that.”
I nodded, a bit choked up. The man was as loyal as they came. He sincerely meant that, and that meant a lot to me.
“Thanks, Alan.”
His potent gaze shifted to Mom and her friend. “How do you do? I’m Alan. And you are?”
Glancing back, I found Patricia frozen and gaping. I’d ever seen her speechless before.
“This is my mother, Patricia Carson. And her friend, Margie Holt.”
“Nice to meet you both,” he murmured pleasantly, and even Margie didn’t have a voice.
Alan bit back a grin, but I could tell he was curious why I had two women in tow for an uninvited visit at his house. He was gracious enough to let it go until later when we were alone.
“Why don’t we all go into the house?” Alan said with a gesture of his arm. “It’s hot today, and I can’t leave two beautiful ladies standing in the driveway. We can finish the introductions inside once we’re all more comfortable. Let me see about finding someone to hand Khloe off to so we can have that talk you want, Graham. You know your way around here. Why don’t you get the ladies settled in the sun room while I find someone to watch the kids so they don’t bother us while we’re talking?”
As Alan disappeared into the house, I waited for Patricia and Margie to precede me up the steps to the door, but nothing, nada. No movement.
“Graham, is that who I think it is?” Patricia asked, blushing and overwhelmed.
Margie stared wide-eyed and nodding. “Uh-huh, Patty. That was him. The ultimate rock god. Oh dear, I think my ovaries just exploded. How is it possible that Alan Manzone is even sexier holding a baby?”