Dressed to Kill (COBRA Securities Book 22) Read online

  Was she kidding? Who hadn’t heard of the blonde beauty? She’d graced the covers of dozens of magazines, including the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, and boasted several wildly successful posters. He’d even admit to ripping several of her pictures from publications. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “Of course.”

  “I’m hiring your company to protect her. On top of being my top client, she’s my daughter.”

  Gage’s brows raised. Ms. Hurst didn’t look old enough to be Brooklyn’s mother. She must’ve had her young.

  “Brooklyn has received disturbing messages, and a week ago, she was modeling in Milan, Italy. It was a show for the designer Galindo. He created a special dress for Brooklyn to wear to end the show, but one of the other models stole it. Long story short, the model who stole it died. The authorities concluded that her skin absorbed a highly toxic poison from the material. I believe the name is aconitine.”

  “The queen of poisons,” Gage murmured. Also known as wolfsbane, monkshood, or devil’s helmet. As little as two milligrams could kill an average human.

  “A couple of days later, one of the other models who’d walked the show committed suicide and left a note saying she did it because she was jealous of Brooklyn.”

  It sounded like an open and shut case. Gage made a mental note to dig into the background of the other model.

  “The show was Brooklyn’s last on the runway,” Ginny continued. “She’s about to launch a clothing line and host a reality television program to discover new models, which she’s envisioned and created herself. She’s pulled in a network and major sponsors. The winner of the show will wear Brooklyn’s designs for her first fashion show. I want nothing to ruin her big moment.”

  “You said she’d received messages,” Gage prompted.

  “There are always people resentful of her success. As soon as she announced her plans to launch an haute couture line, she received two notes telling her to abandon her plans, or she would be sorry.” Ginny sighed. “Brooklyn is hard-headed. She has security for the show, but I need someone who can watch out for her twenty-four seven and actively search for a threat at the same time.”

  “Have there been any more warnings?”

  “No. She doesn’t believe there’s a threat, and there might not be. I could be overreacting, but I don’t care. She doesn’t want to rock the boat, and she’s afraid that if the network or sponsors get wind of a potential risk, they’ll pull the plug. It took some work, but I finally convinced her to allow your company to work behind the scenes last night. I apologize again for taking up your weekend, but I’d like Mr. Monahan to be here in the morning. Things will move fast in the coming weeks.”

  Luke spoke up. “We’ve discussed it with Ms. Hurst, and the strategy we’ve come up with is that you will act as Brooklyn’s boyfriend. That will allow you to go behind the scenes without alerting anyone to the situation. Plus, you’ll be able to be with her at all times.”

  “I thought she had a boyfriend.”

  Both of his bosses turned to him with raised brows. What? So, he kept up with pop culture. Sue him. He’d seen pictures of Brooklyn and some guy who was also a model. He didn’t know what his name was, only that they made a striking couple, even if the guy was a little effeminate if you asked him. But then, no one did.

  Ginny waved a dismissive hand. “They aren’t dating anymore, and it was never serious.”

  If she broke it off and the ex was angry, he might want revenge. Gage made another mental note to check on him.

  They went over more details, and when they disconnected, his bosses faced him. He hoped he masked his expression well enough. He’d be masquerading as the boyfriend of the hottest supermodel on the planet—damn, what an assignment. It was the equivalent of hitting the security lottery.

  “We want you to assess the situation,” Logan said. “If you decide Ms. Hurst was overreacting and there’s no threat, you’ll go ahead and stay until the television show finishes filming.”

  “But if you feel there is a direct threat on Brooklyn’s life, we’ll send in backup to assist,” Luke added. “It’s your call. Use your judgment. We trust you.”

  Gage left the meeting in a haze. He was both anticipating and dreading the mission. Meeting Brooklyn was a dream come true, but with her fame came media attention and the spotlight. He preferred to stay in the background.

  “Gage.”

  He turned to see Kai Costa racing toward him with his dog nipping at his heels.

  “What’s up, Little C? Hey, Midas.” He scratched the golden retriever’s head.

  “Are you in trouble?”

  Kai looked worried, so he quickly reassured the boy. “No, they gave me an assignment. I leave tomorrow.”

  Kai wiped a hand across his forehead dramatically. “Whew. Getting called in on a Sunday is never good.”

  Gage chuckled. “Not usually, no.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “New York City.”

  Kai’s eyes widened. “I love New York. I’ll give you some pointers and tell you about my favorite places to visit. You’ll have a great time.”

  Chapter Two

  Gage rose early on Monday to fit in a workout before boarding a flight to the Big Apple. After he showered and grabbed the bags he’d packed last night, he drove a golf cart to the COBRA Securities airstrip near the complex and parked inside the newly constructed hangar.

  Before he’d signed on, the compound had been infiltrated by criminals, and the airport bombed, killing the entire crew. Several other buildings had been damaged, including the offices, guard shack, and the children’s study hall. Thankfully, none of the kids had been inside when it happened. Since then, security had been tightened to epic proportions, and the destroyed buildings were rebuilt better than ever.

  A private jet landed and taxied to a stop. He lifted his gear and waited for the airstairs to descend before boarding the plane with Hurst Entertainment emblazoned on the side. A woman in a royal-blue suit with a red neck scarf greeted him as he stepped inside the fuselage. She showed him where to stow his luggage and then instructed him to choose any seat. The flight to New York would take around two hours, so he planned on doing research. He wanted information on Renee Stickler, the model who died wearing Brooklyn’s tainted dress, and Coleta Morales, the woman who admitted to lacing the gown with the poison before committing suicide. Last but certainly not least, he planned on running Brooklyn’s former boyfriend, whom he’d discovered was named Cash Curtis.

  “Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Monahan?” The attendant smiled at him seductively as she ran a hand over his shoulder. Usually, he’d welcome the attention, but he had a ton of material to get through and didn’t have time to flirt.

  “Just water, please.”

  She looked disappointed but flounced off to fetch his order. He thanked her when she placed the icy bottle in the cup holder and then waited until they were in the air before opening his laptop. He dug up information on Coleta Morales first. He had his doubts that she was guilty. The Spanish authorities found no evidence of the drug in her flat, nor any receipts or signs that she’d purchased it. The suicide note had been typed on a computer wiped clean of prints. Her family and friends swore she wouldn’t kill herself as she was Catholic and believed suicide was a mortal sin, forbidding her entrance to Heaven.

  Too suspicious for Gage.

  If she didn’t do it, that meant someone else did, and that person had killed to avoid being captured. Would they try to come after Brooklyn again?

  After he’d been given the assignment yesterday, he enlisted the help of Kaiya Quillen and Ryan Marx. They were headed to Fontana Island to reconnoiter. Brooklyn would spend a week there filming the show. Gage wanted the lay of the land before he arrived, and he couldn’t do that himself if he needed to monitor her.

  The flight passed quickly, and soon they were landing at a private airstrip. He was transferred to a helicopter for the jaunt into Manhattan. Once the
y landed at a heliport, a car was waiting to whisk him to Fontana Towers in the heart of the Chelsea District in midtown. It was all very organized and professional. The building was an impressive high-rise of steel and glass of at least sixty stories, he’d guess.

  Gage thanked the driver when he dropped him off and tried to offer a tip, but the man waved it away. An attendant was waiting at the door for him and took the luggage from his hands. “Ms. Hurst is expecting you.” He led him to an elevator, and they ascended to the fifty-fifth floor. Gage stepped off and thanked the man as the doors swished closed. Etched on the glass in front of him were the words Hurst Entertainment. He pushed through the door and asked the receptionist for Ms. Hurst.

  She batted her long, sooty eyelashes and smiled seductively. “Can I give her your name?”

  “Gage Monahan.”

  “Oh, Mr. Monahan, she’s expecting you.” The woman stood. “Follow me, and I’ll take you to her office.” The receptionist grabbed his arm and latched on as she led him down a carpeted hallway to a corner office. She knocked once and opened the door. “Ms. Hurst, Gage Monahan is here to see you.”

  “Thanks, Nina. Send him in.”

  The woman stepped back and waved a hand for him to enter. He thanked her, studiously ignoring her come hither looks as he approached the massive glass and chrome desk.

  “Ms. Hurst, I’m Gage Monahan.”

  She stood slowly as her gaze traveled from his head to toe. “My, my,” she murmured as she came around her desk. He fought the urge to take a step back. He was a former SEAL, dammit. “You were impressive on screen but even better in person. I could book your calendar full by this afternoon. Are you sure you don’t want to model?” She squeezed his biceps and sighed. “I’m not sure I’ve seen such a complete package in my life.”

  Though he was uncomfortable with her scrutiny, there was nothing salacious or sexual about her perusal. It was strictly how she did business in the entertainment industry—or so he assumed.

  “I’m sure, ma’am.”

  Her face twisted into a grimace. “It’s Ginny, please. Ma’am makes me feel too old.”

  “I’m sorry, ma—Ginny,” he corrected at her stern glower.

  “Please sit.” She pointed to the chairs in front of her desk as she returned to her seat. “Thank you again for taking this case. I might be completely crazy, but I’d rather err on the side of caution.”

  “I understand.” He debated whether to share the information he’d discovered about Coleta Morales but decided to wait until he gathered more facts. “I’ll make sure Ms. Fontana is safe.”

  “I appreciate it. The next few weeks are important to Brooklyn. I want to make sure she’s able to enjoy them. They’ll be stressful enough without the added worry of a threat hanging over her head.”

  “Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “Just that she might come across as cold or aloof in the press. She’s not. She’s sensitive and caring, and I don’t want her hurt—in any way.”

  Ginny wasn’t making idle conversation. It wasn’t as if he had a chance with the internationally loved supermodel, so the warning was a moot point. “Understood.”

  Her phone buzzed, and she wrinkled her nose at the display. “Her office is one floor directly below mine. Head on down, and I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

  Gage nodded and left as she answered the call. He’d just stepped outside when a tall woman with spiky black hair did a double-take.

  “Model auditions are on the fourth floor in the Atlantic Room.”

  “I’m not here for auditions.”

  “Well, you should be.”

  He gave her a friendly nod before moving past her. Gage was relieved when he found the door for the steps and jogged down to the next level. Brooklyn Fontana Designs was imprinted on the glass in a stylized logo. There was a receptionist’s desk, but it was empty. People were running back and forth between rooms, and the noise level was boisterous. No one paid him any attention.

  Deciding to find Brooklyn’s office on his own, he navigated the hallway. Boxes of clothes and shoes filled the rooms he passed. The door at the end of the corridor stood open. He knocked anyway. “Ms. Fontana?”

  She glanced up from her desk. He hadn’t fully prepared himself for the impact of her trademark eyes meeting his. They were such a light blue that they were almost electric, which might explain the jolt that sent a current throughout his body. He’d been tased before, and it was the same twitchy, breathless sensation, like the molecules in his body had fractured, and when they came together again, he’d never be the same.

  #

  Brooklyn was swamped to the point she felt completely overwhelmed. They were scheduled to fly to Fontana Island in less than a week, and there was so much to accomplish before then. Her designs were all set to go. Salina, Derek, Shonna, and Jonna, her sewists, had done a fantastic job. Brooklyn came up with the designs, but they handled the hard work, bringing her creations to life.

  Things were incredibly hectic because the first television show coincided with her designing debut. One or the other would be challenging enough, but juggling both at the same time was madness. What had she been thinking? Once she made it through the next few weeks, it wouldn’t be so bad, she told herself.

  Maybe she’d bitten off more than she could chew, but she’d rather stay busy than sit around and do nothing.

  Brooklyn refused to think about what might’ve happened if she’d worn Night Glory. She felt terrible that Renee died and hated that Galindo had fallen under suspicion with the Italian authorities. He’d been grilled endlessly but eventually cleared when Coleta Morales took responsibility for the attack.

  The entire ordeal made little sense to Brooklyn. Coleta was an up-and-coming model, while Brooklyn was in the twilight of her career. The Galindo show has been her swan song. She was done with it and excited to move on to the next phase as a designer and television host. She’d still do shoots occasionally, but mostly, she was retired. There was no reason for Coleta to be jealous of her, but she’d confessed.

  Brooklyn was starting to worry that there was a hex on her or something. Fires were popping up right and left that she had to put out. They weren’t major issues, just minor annoyances, like the wrong number of hotel rooms booked for the contestants. Then the head cameraman’s equipment was stolen. Accessories that had been ordered had been shipped to the incorrect address and now were lost in transit. The last blow had been when she had to fire one woman for stealing and another quit because she didn’t get the job she thought she deserved.

  Her mom was worried about the notes she’d received a few weeks ago when she announced the creation of her clothing line. Brooklyn wasn’t. She assumed they were from another designer, possibly one without the name recognition or ability to promote their brand. Brooklyn had made it one of her goals as a model to discover up-and-coming designers and showcase their talents. To think one of them would try to sabotage her efforts was distressing.

  “Ms. Fontana.”

  She glanced up at the rap on her door. Her gaze collided with the most handsome man she’d ever seen—and that was saying something for a woman who’d traveled the world and posed with the most beautiful men on the planet.

  He was easily six-four or six-five with the muscular body of a warrior. His short jet-black hair framed a tan, chiseled face. But it was the cobalt blue of his eyes that stood out and sucked her in. Plus, he wore the hell out of a navy polo and khaki pants.

  She suddenly wished she designed men’s attire. He’d look fabulous in a suit and tie, or a fitted tuxedo—or nothing at all. Shaking her head to clear the naughty thoughts, she said, “Male model auditions are on the fourth floor in the Atlantic Room.”

  “My name is Gage Monahan with COBRA Securities.”

  Her mouth dropped open. This was the man she was supposed to pretend to be dating? Wow. Good job, Mom. She gave her a mental thumbs up. He was spectacular.

  “Is there a problem, Ms.
Fontana?”

  Yeah, I want to drape myself over your hard body. Maybe she’d have Ricardo, her favorite photographer, do a few test shots of him—something to remember him by when he left. “No, why do you ask?”

  “You’ve got a funny look on your face.”

  It’s called lust, baby. She couldn’t even remember the last man she kissed for anything other than a photo spread. Sex? What was that? She mentally rewound to the Australian male model she’d dated for a few weeks—was it really three years ago? Sheesh. She’d been so busy with her career that she’d neglected her personal life. The specimen standing in front of her had her wanting to correct that oversight immediately.

  Everyone thought she and Cash Curtis were an item. They were just good friends. Cash took the pressure off of her when men constantly hit on her. For Cash, she served as his beard. Though there were several openly gay men and women in fashion, and it was nothing to hide or be ashamed of, Cash came from a conservative family. He insisted on keeping up the pretense. Though she genuinely enjoyed hanging out with him, they’d never planned on it being a long-term solution. She wanted to meet Mr. Right and start a family someday. So did he.

  Her gaze moved to Gage Monahan again. He was serious eye candy. She’d have to be very careful not to fall for her sexy bodyguard.

  #

  There are worse assignments than jetting to a private island, Kaiya Quillen thought as the plane descended into the Miami International Airport. From there, she and Ryan Marx would take a cab to a marina where a boat would ferry them to Fontana Island. They were doing reconnaissance for Gage Monahan before the contestants arrived for Brooklyn Fontana’s reality television show next week.

  She’d spoken to Travis Cross, the head of the security company the network used, and Bob Warren, who was in charge of island safety, to gain permission to look around. Travis’s company had a stellar reputation, but they weren’t on the same level as COBRA Securities, who were in a league by themselves.