“It’s not a curfew, Ozzie!” Julia Ledbetter called back, laughing and rising from the table. “It’s protocol. And that’s vastly different!” She rolled her eyes to signify how much she was irked by the new Secret Service code of conduct enacted in response to the group of agents who’d found themselves front-page news after they were caught boozing and carousing with some…erm…questionable female companions down in South America. Uncle Sam, never one to take kindly to that kind of international embarrassment, had tossed off the role of uncle and donned the garb of dad by implementing a new set of guidelines by which off-duty agents had to adhere. And one of them was…wait for it…a frackin’ midnight curfew.
Not for the first time, Steady was glad that after his stint with the Army he’d chosen door number two when President Thompson—who for some odd reason had taken an interest in his career—offered him a position either within the Secret Service or as an operator for Black Knights Inc. Of course, at the time his decision had less to do with a lack of regard for the already stringent rules of the Secret Service and more to do with not wanting to run into Thompson’s youngest daughter at every turn. Or worse…get himself assigned to her security detail.
Damn, but look at me now! Assigned to her security detail!
And, sí, he totally appreciated the irony.
“Steady? You coming?” Dan asked, dragging him from his thoughts. When he glanced at the guy, it was to find Dan’s expression just this side of panic.
Ozzie slung an arm over his shoulder and murmured, “Dude, if you’ll just stop dragging your feet and cockblocking yourself, I might be able to get you some squish tonight.”
Dan’s expression morphed from panic to consternation. “Squish?”
Steady shook his head. “Don’t get him started,” he advised, well-versed in where this was headed next. Unfortunately, he was too late. Ozzie was already expounding.
“You know,” Ozzie said. “Get you back in the V-saddle. Have you re-conquer the V-dragon. Put you back on top of the V-mountain. Now you understand what I’m saying to you?”
“No.” Dan shook his head, his expression repulsed. “You were so very subtle. Maybe use sound effects next time.”
Ozzie opened his mouth and Dan rolled his eyes, lifting a hand. “That was joke. I get it.”
“You do?” Ozzie grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Yeah.” Dan nodded. “I totally get that you lower the bar of evolution by at least three rungs.”
Impervious to insults, Ozzie grinned and hauled Dan toward the cleared floor space in front of a raised dais where a five-piece band and an exotic singer in a red sequined dress were doing some pretty strange renditions of the current Top 40. When Dan glanced back in his direction, he implored, “Come on, man. Come with us.”
“Not me, hermano.” Steady threw some colorful Malaysian ringgits atop the bar. “I’m headed up to bed.” Where I won’t lay tossing and turning, hard and aching because little Abby Thompson is just four doors down.
Sí. Sure. Right. And if anyone believed that, he had a bridge he could sell them…
Chapter Two
Abby read the final words of her speech on the need to protect Malaysia’s jungles from deforestation, assuring herself she’d hit all the major points—even if she’d flubbed a line here or there when she’d given the damn thing a few hours ago. But the horticultural convention attendees hadn’t seemed to notice when she’d tripped up—a public speaker she was not—so all in all, she was chalking this one up as a success.
And maybe it will make a difference in the way they’re managing their land here. Though she wasn’t holding her breath. Southeast Asia’s vast wildernesses, though rich in the biological treasures of plant life, were not nearly as profitable as the rubber tree plantations that were edging them out more and more each day.
But at least I gave it a shot. Said my piece. And, really, that’s all she could hope to do. Folding away the speech and tucking it into the back pocket of her slacks, she leaned against the molded concrete ledge of the narrow hotel balcony, watching the golden lights of Kuala Lumpur twinkle all around her. A thunderstorm had blown through the city a couple of hours ago, cleaning most of the smog from the air and upping the humidity a few more degrees. Like it needed it. But despite the film of sweat that threatened to slick her skin if she remained outside too much longer, she couldn’t force herself to return to the air-conditioned sanctuary of her room. Because she knew the moment she did, there’d be nothing to distract her from thoughts of Carlos.