He dropped the paper on his bunk. Clasping his hands between his opened thighs, he stared down at the wooden floor that needed to be swept and mopped. Butch was going on a PSD for a Lima mine baron who always feared for his life when he had to visit his many mines in Chile. He’d be gone for two weeks and Cav was looking at a minimum of four weeks away from their apartment.
Esmeralda was probably going to be happy as hell that her “two messy boys,” as she called them, were away. At least the apartment would be clean until they got back.
His heart warmed towards the old Indian woman. Cav and Butch paid her a lot more than most women earned doing the same job, but they knew that Esmeralda was a grandmother to a huge family and that the extra money would go to feeding and clothing the children. God knew, he and Butch earned on average about a hundred thousand dollars a year as freelance security operators. The world was growing more dangerous, not safer. And his kind was in demand more than ever.
At least he’d done something right. Their housekeeper, despite her grumpiness over their slovenly ways, got paid very well. Smiling a little, he glanced to his right where Lia’s picture sat on his pillow. What would she look like if she smiled? Would those velvety gray eyes of hers shine? Would her skin blossom, her cheeks pink up?
Cav found himself wanting to know what this woman looked like when she smiled. Butch had been right: He was looking forward to this assignment, for once. It never hurt to be a bodyguard to a beautiful woman about his own age. And yes, Cav was a hardcore realist. He knew she was more than likely married, engaged or had a boyfriend. Someone as pretty as she was, would not be available. So why the hell did his silly-assed heart hope that she was?
CHAPTER 3
After meeting Robert and Dilara Culver at the San José airport, Cav rode with them in their black SUV, the driver taking them to a five star hotel, The Empress, in the capitol.
General Culver’s attache’, Major Dahlgren, had already arrived days earlier with his small, but highly efficient staff. The group was taken to a special, rented room at the hotel. Cav knew both Robert and Dilara from earlier assignments through the General, and had spoken by phone or Skype with them. He was comfortable with these people, and admired them for running the largest charity in the world. He could tell that the shocking attack on the La Fortuna school had left them deeply troubled.
As they entered the boardroom with its long mahogany table and black leather-and-chrome chairs, Robert pointed to one and told Cav, “Please take a seat.”
“Yes, sir.” Cav sat down. He found a huge manual in front of him, flanked by a glass of ice water. Culver’s attache’, in his mid-forties, had everything in place. The group sat at one end of the table, while the lieutenant brought down a screen at the other end. Robert sat at the head of the table, the Major next to him with his ever-present laptop. Dilara, dressed in an emerald green pantsuit of silk, her red hair held up by two gold combs, always looked elegant to Cav. He knew that the entire family, which comprised two of the largest shipping fleets in the world, was rich beyond most people’s imagination.
He also knew that Dilara, who had Turkish and Greek blood, believed in giving back. They’d established 1,800 Delos charities around the world on six continents. Robert had told him once, during a PSD, that a billion dollars was spent annually on these charities. The money kept the charities thriving so they could continue helping the under-privileged and the uneducated. It also increased farm yields for farmers around the world.
Cav quite liked Robert and Dilara. He could see they were kind, well meaning, and strongly focused. Dilara was actually a big mother hen, but not in a smothering way.
Cal sat there in his civilian clothes, a light blue short-sleeved shirt, bone-colored chinos and a pair of leather hiking boots. Like any security operator, he always carried a light jacket to keep his weapon out of sight.
Dilara sat next to him, and on the other side of the table next to the Major was another manual. That meant another person was coming to this meeting.
“Who’s sitting there?” he asked Dilara as a staff woman poured him coffee.
“Lia Cassidy will be here soon. We asked her to join us. She was there when the attack happened, so no one knows more about it than she does. She was the sole survivor. At this meeting, we’re going to ask her a lot of questions to get her take on what happened and why it happened to our charity. She’s been working nonstop with the Costa Rican police the last five days, since our two teachers were murdered.”
Dilara compressed her red lips, her eyes troubled. “I’m worried for Lia. Thank God, she survived. This is just so shocking. We’ve never had one of our charities hit like this.”