Dying for You. BEVERLY BARTON
at ten-thirty tomorrow,” Deke Bronson replied.
“Good. Put her through the regular interview process, then call her Wednesday morning and tell her she got the job.”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re the boss.”
“And hurry her through the indoctrination process. I want her assigned as one of my personal bodyguards when I go to Ameca. With Wanda on maternity leave, I’ll need a seasoned female bodyguard on this trip and Ms. Evans has nine years experience with the premiere firm in the nation.”
“You’re right. Lucie will be an asset for our security team.”
“Start Ms. Evans out at top level pay. With her background, she shouldn’t be starting at the ground level.”
Deke nodded. “I agree. Anything else?”
“No, that’s all. Just remember that Lucie isn’t to know who recommended her for the job.”
“She won’t hear it from me.”
Smiling, Deke turned around and exited Cara’s private office. As soon as he closed the door behind him, she picked up the phone and dialed Sawyer McNamara’s cell number.
“It’s done,” she said. “Ms. Evans is coming in tomorrow for an interview and she’ll start work on Wednesday.”
“Thanks,” Sawyer said. “I owe you one. By the way, my name wasn’t mentioned, was it?”
“No.”
“Good. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Sounds to me like you’re losing a good employee. I’m surprised you didn’t try to persuade her to stay.”
“Lucie needs a change.”
“Well, she’ll get a big change soon. I’m taking her to Ameca with me in three weeks to act as one of my personal bodyguards.”
Having learned in the past that Sawyer wasn’t a man who indulged in idle chitchat, she didn’t prolong their conversation. Still holding the receiver in her hand, Cara considered making another phone call. Since seeing Bain this past Friday, she hadn’t been able to get him off her mind. Why she put herself through the torment of going to the Hair of the Dog pub every Friday just to get a glimpse of him, she didn’t know.
Liar. You do know.
She couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him. Better a few stolen glimpses from across the room than nothing at all. How pathetic was that? About as pathetic as finding reasons to call him occasionally, just to hear his voice.
Cara replaced the receiver, walked across the room and stood in front of the windows that overlooked downtown Chattanooga. She was standing in her plush office suite inside the Bedell Building, headquarters for Bedell, Inc. How many people would kill to be in her shoes? She had wealth, power and an unequaled social position. She had everything that money could buy. Unfortunately, the one thing she wanted more than anything else in the whole wide world was not for sale.
ARTURO TORRES-RIOS paid the men in cash, a down payment, one-fourth of what they would earn if they did their jobs well. He had hand-picked these men, as he did whenever he needed a team. Each of them had worked for him before and although he knew better than to blindly trust any of them, they understood one another. In his business, betrayal was punishable by death. Usually a slow, painful death. These men knew his reputation, had seen him in action, and were familiar with how he dealt with anyone who wasn’t loyal.
“We will go over the plan again and again until every man knows his job perfectly. There is no margin for error.”
He glanced around the room. Four men. He could have used six. But the more people involved, the more chances for mistakes. The odds were better with only four. Manuel would be the driver. Hector and Pepe would take possession of the package. Rico would safeguard the hideaway. And then the four would alternate twelve-hour shifts, two working together. They would report in to him at the end of each shift.
“Travel the route in a different car and at a different time each day. We may not know until the last minute exactly when to strike. I’ll make arrangements tomorrow for the hideaway and I’ll see to it that the place is well stocked. I don’t know how long it will take to accomplish the mission. Maybe only a few days, but more than likely, a week or more. I don’t want any of you making trips into town and drawing attention to yourselves.”
“This package, it is very valuable, yes?” Rico asked.
“Very valuable,” Arturo agreed.
“Must it be returned in perfect condition?”
The other men laughed. Arturo sliced his sharp gaze from one man to the other, effectively cutting off their laughter and silencing them. “Your assignment is to take possession of the package, guard it and return it to its rightful owner when I give the order. Is that understood?”
“Yes, yes,” they all said in unison.
“Good. You may look, but do not touch,” Arturo told them.
“What happens if anything goes wrong?” Hector asked. “Do we dispose of the package?”
“No. I will take charge of the package and dispose of it myself.”
These men did not know her name nor had he shown them a photograph of her. That would come later, when it was absolutely necessary. The less they knew beforehand the less chance of anyone accidentally leaking any information. To a trusted friend. To a lover. To a family member.
Arturo wanted this assignment to go off without a flaw. If it did, a month from now, he would be a very wealthy man.
Chapter Four
ONE OF THE three Bedell private jets, this one kept in a hangar in Chattanooga for the exclusive use of Cara Bedell, landed in San Luis, Ameca, a little over two weeks after Lucie hired on with Bedell, Inc. Deke Bronson, who had also once been a Dundee agent, had rushed Lucie through the orientation process and prepared her for her duties as Ms. Bedell’s bodyguard. Whenever she traveled, a female agent traveled with the Bedell CEO.
“Cara wants you to accompany her and Jason Little to Ameca as her personal bodyguard,” Deke had explained. “Wanda Marcum, who usually travels with Cara, is on maternity leave. At present we don’t have another female guard with your credentials.”
Ameca was a small, oil-rich country on the eastern coast of South America. Settled by the Spanish, who had intermarried with the natives, the country had seen an influx of various nationalities during the past sixty years. Although Spanish was the official language, more than half the population spoke fluent English. From her crash course in the country and its economic, political and social structure, Lucie had learned that the vast majority of Amecans lived in abject poverty. Governed by an elected president, the country boasted of its democratic principles; yet every president for the past half century had emerged from the Amecan army to run for the highest office in the land.
As they disembarked, Lucie breathed in the warm, tropical air. The San Luis airport ran parallel to the coastline and the Atlantic Ocean could be seen from the tower. Thankfully, the flight had proven to be uneventful in any negative sense. Lucie had flown on the Dundee jet numerous times and had been duly impressed during her first flight. But as luxurious as the Dundee jet was, it paled in comparison to Cara’s private plane. Other than the Bedell jet being larger, one of the obvious differences was the fact that on the Dundee jet, the occupants prepared their own meals, whereas on the Bedell jet, a chef prepared four-course meals.
Tugging on the lapels, Lucie pulled her beige blazer together as she emerged from the plane, making sure her shoulder holster wasn’t visible. Cara followed her, with Jason Little directly behind her. Diplomatic arrangements had been made to allow the CEO of Bedell, Inc. and her bodyguards to forego the usual entrance procedures at the airport. Instead, a representative of President Ortega was there to expedite matters and officially welcome Senorita Bedell to Ameca.
A