Barefoot in Pearls (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 3) (40 page)

“Those bridesmaids for the Stanley wedding? Trust me, they won’t mind.” She dialed. “And I could lose my job if I don’t call security. We have a new man on board.”

He knew the man. Luke McBain was his host for the weekend.

As the voices came closer, Gabe stepped out to the path and lifted one brow, opening all his fingers but the two that held his hand towel in place.

Poppy barely acknowledged the threat. Damn. Veins of ice. He liked that. A lot.

“Poppy,” he said firmly, pulling her attention. “Just pull out the passkey, and you will not have to be responsible for embarrassing the guests. Not the bridesmaids—
me
.”

She slid another look up and down his body. “You got nothing to be embarrassed about, child.”

Child
? “You mean ‘honey child,’ right?”

“Nope.” She tapped the phone screen.

Well, what do you know?
Casa Blanca just might be passing the final test. The out-of-the-way location, the privacy, the anonymity, and the transience of the place was sheer perfection, not to mention the possibility of a “security firm” as cover.

But a staff that had its shit together? Priceless.

“You know it’ll take security ten minutes to get here,” he said.

“I can give you a bigger towel.” She shrugged, dialing.

“How about a Benji or two for your trouble?” Surely some crisp hundreds could buy Poppy’s sympathy.

She threw him a look. “Do I look like a pushover?”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

“Hey!” She rocked forward, black sparks in her eyes. “What did you say?”

“Jesus—”

She held her hand up. “I heard you.” She flipped her fingers over, palm up, outstretched as she hoisted her not insignificant backside out of the cart. “That’ll be ten dollars.”

Whoa, that was easy. What a shame. Hard-Ass Poppy had a price, and it was low. “Let me inside, and I’ll double it.”

She flattened him with a look as deadly as any he’d seen in a Pakistani torture cell. “Ten dollars, no more, no less.”

“As soon as you open that door and—”

“Oh.
My
.” A woman’s voice interrupted him.

“Wow,” said another.

Two twentysomethings—one blond, one brunette, both interested—stopped dead in their flip-flops to stare.

“I call dibs if he’s one of Robbie’s groomsmen,” one of them whispered.

“He’s not,” Poppy said, phone to ear, hand out. “He’s just a nuisance, and
I’m
calling security. Move along, ladies.”

Gabe gave them a pleading look. “I’m locked out.”

The blonde smiled, raking him with a look. “You can come to my villa.”

Poppy snorted. “I wouldn’t invite that kind of trouble, ma’am.”

“I like trouble,” she replied, stepping closer, taking Gabe in like he was a fucking zoo animal.

“I’m calling security,” Poppy repeated.

“No need. I’ve got handcuffs in my room.” Blondie winked.

Poppy waved them on. “To your villas, ladies. Show’s over.”

They obeyed her—it was kind of hard not to, Gabe thought grudgingly—but not without passing close by.

“
Are
you one of Chris’s groomsmen?” the blonde whispered.

For Poppy’s benefit, he sighed and looked skyward. “Sorry to disappoint, ladies, but I’m here with my
wife
, Beth, to celebrate our
twentieth
anniversary of wedded bliss.”

The two women’s faces dropped, but Poppy marched closer, a warning on her face. “Our new head of security is on the way,” she announced.

The girls kept walking, and looking over their shoulders.

Gabe returned his attention to the Nazi housekeeper, trying one last tack to see how tough the woman was. “You still have time to save your job, Popcorn,” he whispered. “Open the door, and I’ll deal with Mr. McBain when he arrives.”

Her brows sneaked up. She was impressed or surprised that he knew the name of their brand new head of security. But not worried. Because this woman did the right thing, no matter what, and Gabe could practically kiss her for it.

“Well, shit, Pop—”

She shoved her palm out again. “That’ll be eleven.”

“Eleven what?”

“Dollars. Ten for the first offense of taking my Lord’s name in vain, and another dollar for that latest S-word.”

“S-word? Poppy, hon, let me inside, and I got two hundred that’ll probably buy you a nice new…handbag.”

“I don’t want a handbag,” she said humorlessly. “You swear, you pay into the Jamaican Children’s Fund.”

“The
what
?”

“The Jamaican Children’s Fund that’s going to bring my three nephews right here to this country. Every time someone curses in my presence, they pay accordingly. Those li’l four-letter ones, a dollar. The D-word is three. Five for F or anything I don’t like that starts with C. You blaspheme my Lord and Savior’s name, and it’s always ten. Now, you started with ten, then added one. So, that’ll be eleven dollars.”

His jaw loosened. “Why is D so high?”

She looked appalled. “Don’t you read the Bible?”

“I assume that’s a rhetorical question.”

She actually smiled, surprising the shit out of him. “Never mind. You owe me eleven dollars, and I’m that much closer to seeing those boys.”

“Two hundred wouldn’t help?”

She angled her head as if she was just plumb tired of him. “I don’t take bribes or ill-gotten gains, Mr. Baby Blues.” At the sound of another golf cart, she turned. “Here’s your ride, sir.”

The cart rounded the corner, and Gabe instantly recognized Luke, who’d changed a lot since his days in the French Foreign Legion, but still sported sizable guns and rugged features.

“What the hell?” Luke muttered.

“Does
he
owe you a dollar?” Gabe asked.

“Do you know this man, Mr. McBain?”

“I sure do.” Luke was off the cart, hand extended, looking a little leery about the expected man hug since one of them was butt naked. Still, Gabe gave a smug look to Poppy.

“But you ain’t Mr. Carriger,” she shot back.

“No, he isn’t,” Luke confirmed. “This is Gabriel Rossi. He’s a legend.”

“In his own mind.” She stepped back to her cart while Gabe just laughed.

“What are you doing out here in a towel, man?” Luke asked.

“Testing your security systems,” he said, giving Luke’s back a whack with one hand. “Which are impressive,” he added, gesturing to the woman with an angled head. “Dude, you got eleven bucks?”

Luke inched back and reached into his pocket. “I think so. Why?”

“I owe this woman.”

A row of blinding-white teeth popped from her dark, coffee-colored skin.

Luke, a mix of amused and confused, pulled out the correct amount and gave it to her. “Thanks for whatever it is you did, Poppy.”

“My job.” She took the money and stuffed it into her pocket.

“And did it well,” Gabe added. As she started to walk away, he pointed at her. “You should get a promotion to the security department, Pop Star.”

She looked him up and down, a woman who took no shit from no one. Gabe could use a person like that on his team. Someone who would keep her mouth shut when she had to, which, with what he had in mind, would be always.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because if you spend enough time with me, you’ll have those boys in your arms in about a week.” Gabe rubbed his fingers together in the universal gesture for cash. “My loose lips sail lots of ships.”

She gave a grudging laugh and passed by him. “’Scuze me. I got a villa to clean.”

As she disappeared through the entrance of Bay Laurel, Gabe turned to Luke, who was cool enough to not ask questions, but smart enough to look like he sure as hell wanted some answers.

“Let me get dressed,” Gabe said.

“Good call.”

Gabe slipped down the side of the house, then returned to where Luke waited in the golf cart. As Gabe slid onto the bench, he slipped sunglasses on, folded his arms, and leaned back. “You don’t need to give me the five-dollar tour, dawg. This place is exactly what I want. I’ll take the job.”

Luke’s jaw completely unhinged. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m your partner in the new business we’re starting.” He gestured for Luke to drive. “Head north. There are nice ladies up there, and I hear they have handcuffs.”

Luke didn’t move. “First of all, I didn’t offer you a position as my partner in the security business I’m starting. Second, I’m engaged.”

“I’m not the least bit interested in a security business, McBain. I’m part of one now, with my family in Boston. I’m so bored I’m counting the hairs on my balls for fun. Mazel tov on your engagement.”

“Thanks, but if you’re not interested in the security business, why would you even consider coming here and working for me?”

“
With
you,” he corrected. “And, no worries, I don’t want any part of your bodyguard gig. You can keep the guests of Casa Blanca safe from the baddies all by yourself.”

Luke bristled as he started the cart and rolled down the paved path.

“We’re just based here,” Luke said. “I’m overseeing resort security as a favor to the owner, who gave me offices on the property. But I’m hiring a team for protection and security all over the island. There’s some big money down here, a new baseball team, and a mother lode of cash offshore from some shipwrecks attracting all sorts of trouble. That’s why I need some of your expertise.”

“Perfect.” Gabe nodded. “A security company as a front could not be better.”

“A front?” Luke threw him a look, and Gabe braced for a barrage of questions. “Now you sound like the spook I met in Somalia.”

“Good times, eh,
Ricard
?” Gabe grinned, remembering the hairy-ass mission he’d been on with the group of Legionnaires where he’d met, and respected, McBain.

Luke’s lip curled. “Hate that name.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember. But everything’s cool now?”

“Completely. And I’m happy here. Happier than I’ve ever been.” He turned onto a dirt path that ran alongside a farmette that Gabe assumed helped feed the guests. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but what kind of trouble are you in that you—a freaking renowned spy with an undercover career that reads like a Tom Clancy novel—would consider working at a resort in Florida?”

“No shit, man. What the fuck is wrong with me?” Gabe grinned and elbowed his friend. “Look, my novel-worthy UC career isn’t over, hoss. I’m starting a new phase. What’s this?” He gestured toward a small compound of small stucco buildings, built to blend with the style of the resort, but far more understated.

“These were built as staff housing, but I’m going to take over at least three of the bungalows for offices.”

Gabe hopped out of the moving cart. “I like the one on the end. I can live there and have offices, too. Maybe I’ll convince Nino to come with me, and Chessie, too. Except Vivi and Zach will string me up by the ’nads if I steal from the Guardian Angelinos.” He threw a look at Luke. “I should have known I couldn’t work there when my cousins told me the mind-numbingly stupid name they picked for a security firm.”

Luke climbed from the cart, following Gabe. “What don’t you tell me exactly what you have in mind?”

Gabe assessed him again. Luke was trustworthy. He’d proved that. And Gabe needed at least a few people to know what he was up to. Hell, he already had two clients lined up and had to move quickly. “I’m have an idea I have for a business that will make bank. And I’ll share that bank if you’ll give me a front for the operation.”

“A front.” Luke came around the front of the cart and narrowed his eyes. “Is it legit? Legal? Safe?”

“Legit? Legal? Safe?” Gabe snorted. “It’s badass, brilliant, and lucrative.” At Luke’s hardened look, Gabe added, “And yes, it’s…pretty safe. Mostly legit. Legal”—he shrugged—“enough.”

Luke shook his head. “I can’t let something or someone onto this property that will jeopardize any staff or guest.”

“No jeopardy,” Gabe assured him. “All I need is a place where it looks like I’m working, and I can run my own little setup, invisible to all.”

Luke just stared at him. “Not until I know exactly what your ‘little setup’ is.”

Gabe blew out a breath, sliding his hands into his pockets as he walked closer to the bungalows, choosing his words carefully.

“There are people who need protection, a place to hide, even a new identity, and they don’t always qualify for a legit government program like witness protection.”

“What kind of people?”

“Good people,” Gabe insisted. “Potential kidnapping victims, abused wives, the poor schmuck who got mixed up with the wrong crowd. Many of my cousins’ clients need more than basic security. They need a safe place that is off the grid but still in plain sight.” He glanced at Luke to see if he was getting it, noticing the other man nodding. “That kind of ‘private witness protection’ is pricey, dawg. Hard to find and harder to keep a secret. That’s where I come in.”