Summer Vows

Los Angeles

Basil Irvine pounded a fist into his open palm when he really felt like punching the wall. Perhaps the pain would help him forget the debacle that resulted in Tyler Cole being shot instead of Ana.

Turning a menacing glare on his brother, he narrowed his eyes. “That’s what I get for sending a boy to do a man’s job.”

A feral grin spread over Webb Irvine’s scarred face. “Do you want to hear I told you so?”

Basil’s gray eyes glittered like chipped ice. “If it will make you feel better, then say it.”

Like quicksilver the smile faded and Webb peered down at the toes of his spit-shined shoes. “I’m not going to say it because it’s not going to change anything. I told you that I’d take care of the bitch, but you wanted to do it your way.”

“That’s because I didn’t want you involved. You just got out of jail—”

Webb waved a hand as if swatting away an annoying insect. “Don’t worry about me going back to jail. That’s not going to happen.”

“I still don’t want you involved in this.”

Basil stared at his younger brother. They looked nothing alike, but blood ran deep between them. He’d stomped a man to death for stealing from him, and it was Webb who’d confessed to the crime. Webb, only fifteen at the time, was tried as an adult, and pled guilty to involuntary manslaughter; he spent three years in a juvenile facility before being transferred to minimum-security prison for the next ten years. Webb earned a high school diploma and, once paroled, he’d enrolled in college and had graduated with a degree in computer science.

“I won’t be involved,” Webb said softly. “I know someone who would be perfect for this project.”

Basil sat down on a leather love seat, knees spread apart. Webb was the epitome of a successful businessman with his conservative haircut, tailored suit, custom-made shirt, silk tie and imported footwear. He’d repaid his brother ten-fold when he’d given him enough money to start up his own security company that created and sold state-of-the art surveillance equipment.

“Let me think about it. My man said he’s going to wait a while before he begins hunting again.”

The dark brown eyes in an equally dark face flattened. “Do you have an idea who told that reporter that you had threatened Ana Cole?”

Basil shook his head. He knew who it was, but he couldn’t tell Webb.

Webb pulled his lower lip between his teeth. “What if it was someone from Slow Wyne?”

“I doubt that.”

“Are you sure, brother?”

Running a hand over his shaved head, Basil chuckled under his breath. “I’m willing to bet our mama’s life on it.”

“Intimidation doesn’t work on everyone.”

Leaning lower, Basil rested his elbows on his knees. “There’s only one person who knows what went down when I was trying to get Justin Glover to sign with Slow Wyne, and that is Omar Thornton.”

“Watch him, Basil.”

“Omar is trustworthy.”

“I can find out how trustworthy he is if you let me bug his house.”

Basil sat up straight. “What the hell are you saying, Webb?”

“Send him away on a business trip for a few days and my people will bug his house and phones. After a while you’ll discover how trustworthy he is.”

“You’re paranoid.”

“I am careful and thorough, Basil. I’m just trying to protect your reputation. I didn’t do a bid for you to screw up because you’re pissed off at a little girl who managed to get the best of you.”

“She is not a little girl,” Basil said between clenched teeth. “She’s a shark masquerading as a piranha.”

Throwing back his head, Webb laughed loudly. He sobered when he saw Basil’s expression. “Do you want Justin Glover?”

“What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I want him.”

“I can get him for you, big brother.”

The buzz of the intercom preempted Basil’s reply. “Excuse me, but I have to get that.” He stood up, walked over to his desk and punched a button on the telephone console. “Yes, Camille.”

“Mr. Edwards’s secretary just called to say he’s on his way.”

“Thanks.” When he turned around Basil realized he was alone. Webb had left. He didn’t want his brother to do anything that could send him back to jail. The person he’d hired to kill Ana Cole had shot the wrong Cole. However, the hired gun vowed Ana Cole was as good as dead.

* * *

Jacob Jones maneuvered up to curbside at the Marathon airport, showed his shield and photo ID to the man who came over to the driver’s side window. The officer’s eyes shifted from the official photograph to the man with a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. He took a step closer, glancing into the open window to see the holstered automatic weapon where his right hand rested on his thigh.

“I’m on the job,” Jacob explained. “My party is on the ground and should be here in a few minutes,” he said to the police officer. What he wanted to tell the man was that he wasn’t officially on the job, but what he had agreed to do was akin to witness protection. The difference was Ana Cole wasn’t a witness to a crime, but the intended target of a sniper with possible ties to the military.

“No problem, Marshal Jones. You have a good afternoon.”

Jacob smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

When he’d gotten up earlier that morning he never would’ve expected a call from Diego Cole-Thomas asking whether he’d be willing to protect his cousin. It was the second day of a well-deserved eight-week vacation and Jacob planned to do nothing more than sleep late, fish, cook his catch and view several new movies in his extensive DVD collection.

Diego had also filled him in on the details of the shooting that had put Dr. Tyler Cole in the hospital with a chest wound. He wanted to refuse his friend’s request, but couldn’t because he was godfather to Diego’s son.

He also wasn’t looking forward to sharing his home with any woman. Whenever a woman crossed his threshold their stay was usually limited to a few days. One had been fortunate to stay for an extended two weeks, but anything beyond that had him formulating excuses to prepare them for their departure.

The week before he’d received an official memo mandating he take a vacation. Jacob couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually taken time off just to kick back and relax. He’d bought the house in Long Key as a retreat, a sort of safe haven where he could go and forget about the prisoners housed in the Miami federal detention centers. He’d been promoted from the field to a desk position and it wasn’t until he walked out of his office and drove south to the Keys had he realized how much he did need a vacation.

He spied Diego coming out of the terminal, his driver and bodyguard pushing a cart with designer luggage. His gaze shifted to the woman holding Diego’s hand, recognizing her immediately. The first time he saw Ana was at Diego and Vivienne Neal’s wedding, and then again at the baptism celebration for their son. It was apparent she and the man who’d come with her to the celebration following the baptism hadn’t been seeing eye-to-eye because Ana had refused to talk to or even look at him.

There was something about the expression on the petite dark-haired woman’s face that communicated to Jacob that she hadn’t come willingly. Well, he thought, as he got out of his vehicle, the feeling was definitely mutual. He wanted to dictate where and how he wanted to spend the next two months of his life without having to consider another person. But, he’d promised his friend he would look after his cousin, and for Jacob, if he gave his word then he always followed through.

Adjusting the hem of the Hawaiian-print shirt to conceal the firearm, he walked over to Diego, who’d released Ana’s hand. They shook hands and pounded each other’s backs in a rough hug. He hadn’t seen the CEO of ColeDiz in more than three months, and the first thing he noticed was he’d claimed a bit more gray hair.

“How’s it going, buddy?”

“It’s all good,” Diego answered.

“How’s the family?”