Tickle His Fancy: Trident Security Book 6 (Trident Security Series) (6 page)

She chuckled. The man hadn’t been kidding when he’d mentioned
his sweet tooth. But you would never know it looking at his hard and sculpted
physique. “Cupcakes and raspberry tarts. And, yes, everything is fine.
Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I come here to bake.”

The relief on his face was evident, but then his eyes
narrowed a bit. “By yourself? And why can’t you sleep?”

Shrugging, she made light of it. There was no way she was
going to tell him the real reason. “Just occasional insomnia. Can’t shut my
mind off some nights. And I keep everything locked, so I’m fine here alone.” He
opened his mouth to say something else, but his stomach picked that moment to
growl—loudly. His blush made her laugh, and she opened the door wider. “Come on
in and I’ll give you some to go.”

After locking the door again behind him, she walked back
toward the kitchen with him following. Glancing over her shoulder, she asked,
“Where are you coming from all dressed up? You look good in a tux, by the way.”
Now what the hell had made her tack that on?

“You like my Sinatra impersonation,
huh?
We had a
security detail at some fancy gala tonight over at the Hilton. A bunch of
people showing off how rich they are and making sure everyone knew how much
they’re donating to AIDS research.

“Oh my God, it smells even better in here. Woman, where the
hell did you learn to bake, and who do I need to thank for teaching you?”

She chuckled. “My Aunt Denise. She still owns a bakery back
in Ohio, where I’m originally from. I’ll tell her you said thanks. Do you want
a tart or an un-iced cupcake? They won’t be iced until the morning.”

“I can’t have a cupcake without icing, that’s like having a
steak without potatoes, so a tart it is. Do you mind if I eat it here?
Otherwise, I’ll be drooling the whole ride home unless I put it in the bed of
the truck.”

Her chuckle morphed into a belly laugh. “Sure, I don’t mind.
One tart coming up.” Pulling a wooden stool over to the counter, she gestured
for him to take a seat. She slid one of the individual treats in front of him
and handed him a clean fork. “Sorry I don’t have the coffee machine on, but I
can offer you a glass of milk.”

“Perfect, thanks.” He took a bite and his eyes rolled back
into his head. “Holy cow. This is delicious.”

Fancy smiled and placed a full glass of milk next to his
plate. “Glad you like it.”

While she started covering the trays of cupcakes, Brody ate
his tart. The silence between them was comfortable, but the awareness her body
had at his presence was a little unnerving.

Glancing over, she saw his plate was empty except for a few
crumbs. “Want another one?”

“Does the sun rise in the east? Of course, I want another
one. What I’d like even more, though, is if you’d join me. Nothing goes better
with a sweet treat than an even sweeter woman.”

She laughed as she slid another tart on his plate. “Is that
all you know how to do with the opposite sex? Flirt, I mean?”

“Nope. I also know how to treat a woman as if she’s the only
one in the world. Just the way my dad taught all his sons.”

After pouring herself a glass of milk and pulling over
another stool, she sat next to him. When he held up his fork in question, she
shook her head. “I’ll join you, but I’ll pass on the tart. You tend to lose
your taste for sweets when you’re around them all the time.”

His eyes grew wide. “Perish the thought.”

“So you’re from a big family?”

He nodded as he swallowed. “Yup. I’m the fourth of six kids.
Two older sisters, one younger, and two brothers—one older, one younger. What
about you? Any siblings?”

“I have one older brother who lives in Hawaii, and two half-sisters
from my father, but I’ve never met them.”

His eyebrows arched. “Never? How old are they?”

A heavy sigh escaped her. She wished she had the close family
most of her friends had, but it hadn’t been meant to be. “Fourteen and sixteen.
They live in California with my father. He and my mom were never married, but
they did try to make a go of it. It obviously didn’t work out. I haven’t seen
him in about fifteen years, but every once in a while I’ll get a card in the
mail or he’ll finally get around to answering one of my emails. I wanted to go
out to California to meet his wife and my sisters years ago, but he kept
putting it off. I get the impression his wife has no desire to meet me, and he
abides by it.”

“Sorry to hear that. What about your mom?”

She took a sip of her milk. “She’s still up in Ohio. We
weren’t very close growing up because she was always working two jobs. Once I
was old enough to take care of myself, she sort of had a midlife crisis. She’s
on husband number three right now. I guess she’s trying to make up for being
single most of her life.” She gave her head a slight shake. It had always
bothered her that her family wasn’t the perfect little family with married parents,
a house with a picket fence, and a dog. At least when she met her husband,
she’d gotten used to his brother and parents being around a lot. And when she
and Patrick moved to Florida, Corey had followed. Her in-laws had remained in
Ohio and had planned to retire to nearby Sarasota but when they lost their
oldest son, their grief had them staying where they had the most memories of
him. “Anyway. I have a few aunts, uncles, and cousins up north, but my Aunt
Denise and I have always been the closest. She never married or had kids, so
she tried to fill in where my mom was lacking. Oh, don’t get me wrong. My
mother worked her ass off for my brother and me, but because of that, we rarely
had her to ourselves.” Her eyes widened. “And I can’t believe I just told you
all that. You probably want to leave after I dumped all that on you.”

Blushing, Fancy stood, but before she could move away,
Brody’s hand on her elbow stopped her. “Hey. I didn’t mind at all. Haven’t you
figured out yet that I’m interested in getting to know you better? And no,
that’s not why I offered the security system. Okay, scratch that. There is a
little part of me that saw it as an excuse to see more of you, but your safety
trumps everything.” He gave her a sad, puppy dog look. “And I really do love
your baking, so please don’t send me away.”

That last part made her chuckle and roll her eyes as he had
probably intended. “Fine. You can stay. At least until I’m done here.”

“Good. Then I’ll follow you home.” He took another bite of
the tart, ignoring her startled look.

“
Um
, you don’t have to do that.”

He licked the fork, and her eyes followed his tongue
involuntarily. “
Um.
Yes, I do. And before you ask why, I’ll tell you.
Because I’m a gentleman in the security business, who would hate to see anything
happen to you before I had a chance to take you on a date. And because my momma
would slap me upside the head if I didn’t.” He placed a hand over his heart.
“Please don’t make my momma do that.”

Her laughter spilled forth. What was it about this man that
made her feel lighter than she had in years? His brown eyes danced with
amusement as his grin made his dimples appear. Oh, Lord, that smile was
devastatingly handsome—actually, the whole man was devastatingly handsome. And
for the first time since her husband died, she wanted a man to kiss her.

Pushing the thought from her head, she finished covering the
cupcakes and put away the foil and wrap. “Okay. God forbid I get you in trouble
with your
momma
. You can follow me home.” She pointed a finger at him.
“But don’t expect me to invite you in. It’s late, I need sleep, and I don’t
invite men into my home until at least the third or fourth date.” Well, at
least she wouldn’t if she ever went out on a date.

His eyes shot up. “So, does this mean you’re willing to go on
a date with me?”

She shrugged coyly. “Maybe. You’re starting to grow on me.
One of these days I might say yes.”

“Then I look forward to that day, sweetness.”

The Dom sat in his car, staring at the entrance to the club.
The submissive bitch should be coming out any time now. Her dominant boyfriend
was working at the hospital, and, instead of being a good sub and staying home
on a Monday night where she belonged, she’d sneaked out and come to the BDSM
club, The Devil’s Dungeon. It wasn’t one of the high-scale, private ones
because she had been banned from The Covenant and was only allowed in Heat with
her Dom. Well, tonight she was going to get what she deserved for being such a
naughty slut.

He thought back to all the gossip he’d been hearing the past
week and a half. Word of the missing Christie Lawrence, aka Clementine, had
spread among the members of several BDSM clubs, including The Covenant, and the
few people who’d met her before were worried about what had happened to her. He
was the only one on this earth who knew what
did
happen to her. She’d
screamed, cried, begged to be let go, and, in the end, she’d begged to die. And
he had been all too happy to oblige her.

Clementine had stayed alive longer than the first sub he’d
brought to his lair. That bitch had been new to the lifestyle, and while he had
seen a blurb in the newspaper about her disappearance, it seemed as if no one
had connected her to the munch she’d gone to. That’s where the Dom had met her.
There were munches at least once a month in various places in and around Tampa.
They were events where newbies interested in BDSM could meet and talk to those
experienced in the lifestyle without play. Introducing her to his world had
been fun at first, but she hadn’t lasted long. It was then he’d decided to seek
out more experienced subs.

If he were honest with himself, he desperately wanted to tell
everyone what had happened to Clementine and the other bitch, and where their
destroyed bodies were located—in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. But that
would be the end of his fun and games. This time, however, he planned on
leaving Heather Davis where she would be eventually found. If he couldn’t let
people know who was putting these whores in their place, at least he could let
them admire his work.

The unmarked door to The Devil’s Dungeon opened and out
walked his intended target wearing her slutty clubwear. Her hair was messier
than when she went in, and her face was flushed. It was clear she’d played—and
not with her Dom.
Well, you bitch, you’re going to be playing a lot more
over the next few days.

Starting his vehicle, he waited for her to climb into her
little sports car and then followed her home.

* * *

Holding on tight to the “oh-shit” strap behind his head,
Brody grinned at Marco, who was laughing, as another green-looking Omega team
member puked his breakfast into a barf bag. This time, it was Morrison, who was
retired Army and a former LAPD SWAT sniper. The chopper they were all in was
spinning and tilting as if it was caught in a tornado. Brody had known damn
well what the pilot, Tempest Van Buren—call sign Babs for “bad-ass bitch”—was
going to do once they were in the air, so he’d held off eating his morning
treat from Fancy’s bakery. But it was waiting for him in his office.

It had been four days since he’d found Fancy working late
that night, and this morning she had finally caved when he’d asked her to
tonight’s Tampa Rays vs. Cleveland Indians baseball game. She’d been a lot more
talkative over the past few days, and once he’d heard she was an Indians fan,
he knew he’d have to call in a few favors to get good seats. She didn’t know it
yet, but they were going to be sitting right behind home plate. That was one of
the best things working for Trident—the perks and contacts.

Abbott was the next to puke on a fast incline followed by a
nasty drop in the stealth helicopter, and Marco glanced at his watch then
nodded. Brody spoke into his headset. “Babs, take it down. Time to take these pansies
on their run.”

Several groans came over the air as Van Buren acknowledged
him then cranked her disco music on high. The beat of the Bee Gees singing
“Stayin’ Alive” thumped through the bird as it tilted back toward the Trident
helipad, and everyone leaned to the side from the Earth’s gravity. From
overhead, the compound appeared to be what it had been before the Sawyer
brothers bought it—a bunch of warehouses, formerly owned by drug dealers.
Trident had added the heliport and a track with an obstacle course to the
north. To the south, there was a shooting gallery designed to look like a small
town’s main street, and a five-story training building where many of the walls
could be moved to vary the setup. The entire compound was surrounded by a
security fence and on the other side of that were several hundred acres of
woods.

The first warehouse was where The Covenant was located. No
signs were advertising the private BDSM club, and it was hard to gain
membership. An interior fence line separated the club from the rest of the buildings
that housed the Trident offices, bunk rooms, maintenance garage, gym, storage,
and a panic room. The last warehouse had been converted into four large
apartments, one for each of the Sawyer brothers—Ian, Devon, and Nick—and their
significant others, and Ian’s goddaughter, Jenn.

Babs set the helicopter down with practiced ease, and the
Omega team scrambled to get the hell off, just in case she decided to take
flight again. They didn’t need to worry, though, because the female pilot was
already shutting down the engine. Heads low, everyone cleared the rotors before
standing upright again. They all looked nauseous, but Brody and Marco were not
going easy on them today. As he shouldered his fifty-pound pack which matched
theirs, Brody barked, “Let’s go you pansies! Packs on and fall in. We’re going
on a nice, long run—sixteen klicks— and then you’ll get the break you’re going
to be begging for.”

“What the fuck’s a ‘klick’?”

Brody forgot Foster had always been in law enforcement,
without a military background, and wouldn’t know what a klick was. “Klick is
military for kilometer. Sixteen klicks is just under ten miles.”

A few dirty looks and groans were sent his way, but no one
argued. The six-man Omega team lined up with Abbott on the far end. Brody wasn’t
worried about her lagging behind. In fact, she would probably be pushing the
other guys forward. “Move out!”

They headed for the west fence line and Marco jogged ahead to
place his hand on the security scanner which would open the gate leading to a
trail in the woods. Brody shut it again after everyone was through. With their
current business and past missions as SEALs, the original Trident team took the
compound’s security seriously. There were plenty of hi-tech measures, along
with armed guards at the front gate, and Ian’s rescued dog, Beau, who had been
trained by a company that supplied dogs to the military and private security
companies.

Soft footfalls and the sounds of nature were the only things
he heard for the first few miles, then the heavy breathing started. It was only
0900 hours, and they wanted to get this run in before the temperatures rose
into the nineties. At least the hundred-degree marks had eased off over the
past few days. He eyed the team. McCabe, Abbott, Reese, and Knight were no
longer green, but Foster, Mancini, and Morrison still had an ugly tint to their
faces. Foster stepped to the side to puke again, but as soon as he was done he
quickly rejoined the ranks. Brody knew Ian and Devon were trying to decide who
was going to head the Omega team, Foster or McCabe, and it was going to be a
tough decision. Both men had strong leadership abilities, and where one was
lacking, the other made up for it, and vice versa. They came from two different
backgrounds—Foster from the Secret Service and McCabe from the Army Special
Forces—with both similar and vastly different advanced training.

By the time they circled back, everyone was drenched in
sweat. A cooler of bottled water was waiting for the overheated runners in
Ian’s
Oasis
, the “backyard” Angie had designed for Boss-man as a birthday
present. It ran the length of the warehouses and was located between the
buildings housing the apartments and the gym. The asphalt had been removed, and
sod had replaced it, then an outdoor kitchen, multiple sitting areas, cooling
sprays, a fire pit, and a koi pond with a waterfall had also been added. There
were many nights when everyone had gotten together there just to chill.

Each team member dropped their packs, grabbed at least two
bottles, and crashed in a seat. Marco flipped the switch to activate the
cooling spray which was tucked under the eaves of both buildings. Several
people removed their soaking wet T-shirts, including Abbott, who was wearing a
black sports bra underneath. Brody glanced at her. She was in top physical
condition and had an impressive body, but he found himself thinking he preferred
Fancy’s softer one. He’d spent many a morning jacking off to what he imagined
the delicious baker looked like under her chef’s whites. The only time he had
seen her in regular clothes was the other night. She’d been wearing a
comfortable pair of jeans, which had only enhanced her curves, and a blue
V-neck tee that had given him a teasing hint of her cleavage. The memory had
his dick twitching, and he forced the image from his mind. Now was not an
appropriate time to be getting a hard-on about the woman he couldn’t wait to
have in his bed.

Cracking open a second water bottle, he guzzled half of it as
Marco’s and his cell phones alerted them to a message from the office. Instead
of checking his own, Brody just raised an eyebrow at his buddy who was reading
the text. Standing, Marco tilted his chin in the direction of the offices. “Ian
wants you and me in there. Something’s up.”

Brody stood and addressed the team before following Marco.
“Hit the showers. You’ve got an hour before you’re due on Main Street for some
target practice.”

Striding into the reception area on his teammate’s heels,
Brody shivered as the air conditioning hit his sweat-covered skin and shirt.
Goosebumps appeared on his arms. After he found out what was going on, he’d hit
the showers over in the gym since the Omega team would be using all of the ones
in the bunkrooms upstairs. Colleen stopped them from heading to Ian’s office,
instead, telling them everyone was in the conference room. On the way, Brody
veered off into his war-room and grabbed his cinnamon rolls, taking a huge bite
of one as he walked down the hall and entered the room where everyone else had
gathered.

He was surprised to see Detective Isaac Webb from Tampa P.D.
with Cal Watts from the local FBI’s SWAT team sitting at the long table with
Devon, Ian, Marco, and Boomer. Webb was a tall, slender black man in his
forties, while thirty-seven-year-old Watts was about four inches shorter at
five foot ten, stockier, and had red hair. The former was wearing one of the
Tampa PD golf shirts the department let their detectives wear in warmer
temperatures, instead of a suit and tie. But Watts apparently was off duty at
the moment, unless the bureau had changed its dress code to include cargo
shorts, Metallica T-shirts, and sneakers.

Brody wiped his sticky hand on his wet shirt then realized
that was just as bad, so instead he gave them a short wave. “Sorry, guys.
What’s going on?” He took a seat between Boomer and Marco and pulled one of the
laptops in front of him. Whatever was up, he was probably going to need some
intel.

Before anyone answered, Ian stood and shut the door then sat
back down. There was no mistaking the grim expression on his face. “This stays
in this room for now, but I’m sure it’ll be getting out soon enough. It seems
as though we have a big problem. Cal is here off-the-record.”

At the others’ curious looks, Cal stated, “Isaac took Jake’s
spot on our Tuesday night basketball games at the ‘Y’ so we know each other
from there. He’ll explain what’s going on.”

They all knew Jake Donovan had gone to the local YMCA for bi-weekly
games before he’d headed out to San Diego to get the west coast team of Trident
up and running. It had been a win-win decision for everyone to send Jake
because he was in a Dom/sub committed relationship with Ian and Devon’s younger
brother, Nick, who was on SEAL Team Three stationed out there.

Webb cleared his throat. “Dispatch got a call this morning about
a missing person. A woman who I believe you all know. Heather Davis.”

Boomer and Devon groaned while Brody rolled his eyes. This
was the “big” problem? Seriously? Heather was the biggest bitch in the world.
When Devon’s wife, Kristen had first come to the club as a guest, she had
gotten into a knock-down, hair-pulling fight with Heather and another sub in
the women’s locker room. The two bitches had been bullying none other than
Trident’s secretary, Colleen, when Kristen had interrupted. At the time,
Colleen had been very timid and shied away from controversy. She also hadn’t
been working for the team back then. Heather and the other sub had already been
on probation for bullying, and their memberships had been revoked that night.
Kristen ended up being dubbed “Ninja-girl”, and a few months later, Colleen had
been hired by Ian, which her Dom/fiancé, Reggie Helm, was grateful for. Even he
had seen the positive changes in his woman. Since they first met, the two women
had become good friends, and Colleen had flourished under the training and
watchful eyes of the Trident employees. She now knew how to defend herself and
even had a concealed weapon license to carry a gun.

“Knock it off, assholes, and listen to the man.” Ian’s tone
had them all pausing, then sitting up straighter. If they had been in the club,
everyone would have said it was his Dom voice, but in this setting, it was his
“I’m your Lieutenant, and you just fucked up” voice. It was obvious he was
already privy to whatever was going on.

Webb took over again. “Well, whatever issues you had with Ms.
Davis, I can assure you she’s missing, and she’s not the first.” Brody’s eyes
flashed to Marco and saw his friend also made the connection to Kayla London’s
missing friend from Heat. “Her live-in boyfriend, Dr. Scott Harrison, got home
from a shift at the hospital, which, due to a multi-vehicle crash, had him in
the ER until 2:00 a.m. When he arrived home twenty minutes later, he found Ms.
Davis’s car parked in the driveway as he expected it to be. However, she wasn’t
at home. He went back outside and saw her car was locked with her cell phone in
the center console—her purse was missing. He called 911 when she didn’t return
by eight this morning. Now, typically this wouldn’t have raised any alarms, and
everyone would assume she ran off or something, but, as I said, this isn’t the
first one with the exact same circumstances. I’ll get to the others in a moment.
What did differ this time was one of Ms. Davis’s high heeled shoes was found
under the car by the driver’s door when the patrol units first responded.
According to Dr. Harrison, he had no idea where she’d gone last night and
thought she was staying in. The last time he spoke to her was just after 6:00 p.m.
by phone.”