FIVE
“Brent, you copy? Can you hear me?” Zane’s questions came through the minuscule device surprisingly well.
I stuck my finger in my ear canal and adjusted the position of the communicator Zane had given me. “Loud and clear.”
Wait. Was it too loud? If someone were standing near me, would they be able to hear him too? I wasn’t certain and I had no one with me I could ask.
I’d just have to be careful and not get too close to anyone inside the party.
Moving on, I had to get prepared for this assignment. “So what’s my code name?” I asked him.
“You don’t need a code name.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t have one,” I grumbled.
“Fine. You can have a code name. What do you want it to be?”
I thought for a moment before coming up blank. “I don’t know. You have any ideas?”
“No.” Zane was not only no fun, he was being no help.
I sighed and glanced around Uncle Bunky’s Bridgehampton cottage, looking for inspiration.
I was surrounded by a lifetime of his prized mementos. A handwritten copy of the Hearst family tree. Photos of my great grandfather. And the strangest artifact of all—the sled named Rosebud, an exact replica of the one from the movie Citizen Kane.
The place was as interesting as the man himself . . . and that was saying something. He’d been wheelchair-bound for decades but he still loved this ocean front cottage, even though it was modest by Hampton standards.
My gaze remained on the sled and I said, “I’ll be Rosebud.”
“Rosebud? What the fuck?”
“You know. Orson Welles. Citizen Kane. Rosebud.”
“You’re weird.”
“I’m too rich to be weird. If anything, I’m eccentric.” I walked to the window and took in the view of the clear blue sky that met the Atlantic Ocean on the horizon.
If Zane thought I was eccentric, he should meet some of the others in my family. But I had to admit my Uncle Bunky got it right when he chose this spot. It was a hell of a view.
“Whatever, Rosebud. Are we done now? This was supposed to be a simple comms test. It should have taken like five seconds.”
Maybe in the SEALs it would have. Zane needed to remember whom he was working with here.
I snorted. “Hey, you get what you pay for.”
Why was he in such a hurry anyway? We didn’t have to rush. The charity event didn’t start for an hour.
If everything was running according to the schedule Zane had gone over with me, the Russian’s private plane had just touched down. The GAPS guy who’d replaced the regular driver should be meeting him now.
I’d already decided that was going to be Alexey Mordashov’s code name tonight—the Russian.
His real name was too much of a tongue twister to be using it on the radio. Or rather the comm as Zane kept calling the little flesh colored piece of plastic shoved deep in my ear.
“And to answer your question, no, we’re not done,” I said.
I heard him sigh. “What else?”
“What do I call you?” I asked.
“Base. If you need to call me anything, just call me Base,” Zane spat out.
He was probably afraid I’d come up with a name for him too. Though the big bad SEAL should have a kickass code name already from his years in the teams, I would think. They usually did in the movies and on TV.
But if that’s what he wanted, Base it would be. I could work with that.
“All right. And where are you, Base?”
“I’m parked. I’ve got eyes on the location.”
“You mean the house where the party’s being held?”
“Yes.”
Was he crazy? He might know guns and comms, but I knew the Hamptons and the people who lived here, and they were very territorial when it came to their privacy.
“You’d better watch out. They’re pretty strict about people parking around there,” I warned.
Zane snorted. “Yeah, I know. The rich folks don’t want any riff raff enjoying their beach.”
“Hey, kill the attitude. The Alexanders aren’t exactly middle class, you know,” I pointed out.
“Don’t remind me. But anyway, I should be fine parked here. I’m in a landscaping truck.”
My eyes widened at the information. “That’s brilliant.”
There were so many lawn guys in these neighborhoods, working sun up to sun down seven days a week to keep up with the demand of the sweeping lawns that needed tending in summer, no one would look twice at the truck.
“Thank you. About time you appreciated my brilliance,” he said.
“Don’t push it.” I could make witty banter all afternoon, but the reality of my impending assignment was beginning to descend upon me.
I felt the gun strapped to my leg.
Would I be able to actually use it if I needed to? Could I really shoot a person?
I turned back toward the room, suddenly dry mouthed, and grabbed the bottle of water I’d left on the table. I swallowed, the tightness in my throat making it difficult.
“Are you armed?” I asked. I needed confirmation I wasn’t alone in this thing. Yes, the driver would be right outside, but I didn’t know him. I knew Zane.
“Yes,” he replied.
“But you don’t think we’re going to need them though, right? The guns.”
“It’s just for insurance,” he confirmed.
“Okay.” I nodded even though he couldn’t see the motion and drew in a breath to try to steady my pounding heart.
I was seriously getting nervous. I’d tried to joke my way through this assignment I’d fallen into but this was serious shit. If Zane were telling the truth, I was there to protect a man’s life. I was the last line of defense between him and death.
Holy fuck. I wasn’t prepared for this.
“Brent.”
“Yeah?”
“Get out of your own head before you psych yourself out.”
How did he know?
“You sure you want me to do this?” I asked.
“Do what? Attend a party? Mingle? Smile pretty for the pictures and report back to me? Yeah. I’m sure. You can do this.”
It sounded so simple when he said it like that. Like it was just another charity event.
I’d attended hundreds of those in my lifetime. One was pretty much just like another, except this time I happened to have a hi-tech communicator in my ear and a freaking gun strapped to my calf.
Not to mention a former member of SEAL Team Six staking out the party from a landscaping truck while another member of his team played chauffeur to a Russian billionaire.
Yup. Tonight was just like any other event.
Sure.