Chapter Twelve

Fredrik raised his brows at the two large men at the adjacent table. “Do they have to sit on top of us?”

Chantal wondered the same thing and forced a smile. Gage insisted on practically sitting by her side and watched Fredrik like he was the Unabomber. Unlike Chantal, her date didn’t seem fazed and flashed a white grin. Fredrik certainly didn’t lack in confidence and wore a well put together suit, which made her feel underdressed in a white t-shirt and jeans. In her defense, she’d added a black blazer, gold earrings, and applied careful make-up that morning. They sat in a fancy Indian restaurant—Chantal had hoped for a casual lunch at a beach café, needing to get back to work. She wondered how Sunny had settled in and took a slow breath to slow her racing heart. The agent beside her flustered her composure which rarely happened. Getting used to her large protective detail was proving to be a big challenge. Perhaps Gage was right—she needed to communicate with her details. They were there to keep her alive and that morning, she’d made their jobs more difficult. But she’d never regret hiring Sunny. The deed felt good. Usually, her therapy provided temporary relief from physical pain. Now she helped in a different capacity—providing a future for two kids who had nowhere to go.

Chantal ordered a lentil soup—a Dal Makhni, as her date decided on ordering multiple dishes from the menu. She’d never escape.

“How’s your mother? The last time I saw her was at the ball.”

“Busy.” Chantal lined up her cutlery on the neatly folded napkin, hoping to restore order to her distracted mind.

“She made an appearance at that trade fair—for the women’s entrepreneurship program.” 

“Sure.” Chantal changed the subject, bringing them back to “first date” material. “Fredrik, how long have you been in Sri Lanka?” 

The tall Swede warmed up to the question and leaned forward. She studied his beautiful features—perfect in all its proportions and tried not to compare those features to Gage’s unforgettable face. Both handsome men and yet complete opposites. Fredrik may be all smooth lines and baby-soft skin, but he lacked the rugged looks of a man who’d lived on the edge. She refused to look at the MSD team leader sitting at the next table. His presence shattered her concentration—he infuriated, yet drew her in at the same time. Like a bothersome magnet.

“Seven months. And you?” Fredrik asked.

What had she asked? “Sorry—I zoned out for a second. Work stuff.”

Fredrik’s nostril’s flared. “I said, seven months. Before that, I was in Budapest.”

“I apologize. And you grew up in Sweden?”

“For most of my childhood. My father lived in Finland. Thanks to my parent’s divorce, I traveled between both countries. My mother is all about her glamorous life in Stockholm, and we have nothing in common.”

“That’s tough.”

“I like traveling. It was an acceptable arrangement. That’s why I chose this job. You’re the same—I can see the wanderlust in your eyes.”

Oh, she had lust… of the passionate variety. Inappropriate thoughts for an agent with a fiery gaze, and at that very moment, she could feel Gage’s stare tracing over her face. 

This date was a mistake. Yet, Chantal knew her complicated feelings for the MSD soldier could never go anywhere. She wasn’t about to break her own rule, which was there for a reason. Besides, she was his principal, and he’d only ever acted like a professional in her presence. A professional prick at times… Her one-sided attraction would get her heart crushed under his capable boot. 

Gage stood and pulled out his buzzing phone. God, the man was annoyingly tall. His strong jaw flexed beneath a five-o-clock shadow as he glanced at the screen. Answering the phone, Gage walked away. 

“You seem distracted. Would you prefer to reschedule?”

Chantal’s gaze shot back to Fredrik. “I’m rude. I never got much sleep last night.”

“Why?”

“I was with my mom.”

“That bad-ass U.S. Ambassador reminds me of my mother.”

Chantal frowned. “In what way?”

“Both are perfectionists and always disapproving. I bet your mother is a street angel—house devil. Right? As sweet as honey to those who matter in her upscale world, and not so nice behind closed doors.”

Chantal’s neck heated. “You don’t get to talk about my mother that way.”

Fredrik raised his hands apologetically. “I know what it’s like to live in a parent’s shadow. Just saying.”

“You know nothing about my life.” Realizing she wouldn’t be sharing any intimate details anytime soon with the man at the table, Chantal picked up her handbag. Fredrik seemed nice enough at the Marine Ball—handsome in his tux. Now, his appeal evaporated, revealing a presumptive arrogance. “As a U.S. Ambassador, my mother has worked tirelessly for the good of Sri Lanka, and I’m betting if she were a male ambassador, you wouldn’t be examining her personality traits. She can be whoever she damn well wants to be.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

The problem with having a distinguished diplomat as a parent was that sometimes, it was all about that famous relative—how they might further one’s career. Fredrik, constantly mentioning her mother on a first date was a huge red flag in Chantal’s world, and she felt defensive given her complicated relationship with her mother, but Chantal didn’t give a damn. 

“Enjoy your Butter Chicken.” 

“Wait, Chantal.” Fredrik reached out, and Jason stood.

“Date is over, buddy.” 

Gage hung up and headed their way as she rose. 

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She offered him a polite smile. “Fine. Can we head to a beach bar to grab takeout?”

His large hand cupped her back, and her spine tingled. “We can’t. We’re heading back to your residence.” 

“I have patients—”

“Which will have to wait. We’re walking fast.”

Chantal obeyed the command. She knew enough about Mobile Security to listen to their orders, and they hurried across the road as the rest of her generous local and MSD teams converged from all angles. The men were on high alert. 

Gage stuck close but stepped back when Wyatt—the Agent in Charge—guided her into the backseat. The rest of her local bodyguards climbed in as Gage hurried to the MSD vehicle. Standard protocol meant that Team Five would follow her armored suburban. Wyatt was in charge of the overall command and close protection of the “principal”—which was her frustrated ass. Chantal didn’t know what was happening, and at that moment, she wanted Gage by her side. Realizing she instinctively trusted him, Chantal twisted in her seat and watched his van pull out into traffic behind her. 

“Dishan, what happened?” Chantal asked, ignoring the comms chatter.

This time her local friend sat beside her, the only one not on the radio.

“Relax. We’re taking precautions. There’s been a tip-off—protestors loyal to Mr. Bandara plan to march to the embassy and your center.”

“I have to warn the staff!” 

“Already done, Miss Durant. Your assistant, Alexis, has closed up early.” Wyatt gave her a thumbs up from the front passenger seat, and Chantal turned back to resettle.

“I need to call her and check on Sunny.” 

“Seatbelt, ma’am.”

 Complying with Dishan’s request, Chantal held on as they raced back to U.S. soil. She despised Rajin’s corrupted soul. She’d seen one of the tapes—how he’d beaten helpless prisoners with a steel pipe before slicing them with a knife. And Chantal hated that he hunted her dear friend. Pearl and Aysha’s safety was a constant worry, and the bastard wouldn’t give up on finding his ex-wife. If he thought Chantal was a soft target, he was wrong. Even if she knew where Pearl ended up, she’d never give up the location of her friend. 

***

Gage never took his eyes off the lead vehicle as Lucius negotiated traffic. His men were armed and keyed up, ready to roll into action. The developing intel troubled Gage. Not only could he be dealing with a possibly violent mob descending on the embassy, but they could be facing an armed crowd. Martin had called with news of two trucks stopped by police near the embassy, carrying AK-47s and machetes. How many unaccounted caches were smuggled into Colombo? 

“At least ‘Chanel Five’ cooperated. Walked her ass to the transport.” Kohen clicked a knuckle.

Gage stared straight ahead. “What the hell does that mean? Quit sipping on your haterade.”

“She’s thrown tantrums all day—doing whatever the fuck she wants.”

“Dude!” Gannon warned.

Twisting to face the asshole, Gage pinned Kohen with a deadly stare. “At least her heart is in the right place, fucker. Unlike you, she saved a couple of lives today.”

“That’s harsh, man. I’m just saying—”

“Call her ‘Chanel Five’ again and I’ll sack your ass.”

The other agents exchanged loaded glances as Gage turned back. Lucius whistled a tune and Gage bit back a smile. A song called “Haterade.”

What he’d learned was that their principal took after her mother in many ways. Chantal had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and a quick temper to match. And she wasn’t afraid to go head-to-head with an MSD team to fight for a cause. However, she needed to work on her communication skills and adjust to her new normal. Safety protocols existed for a reason.

As they neared the Cinnamon Gardens, his men grew quiet and scanned the busy streets for threats. 

Gannon spoke through comms. “Four o’clock. Say cheese.”

A suspect in a blue sarong and white shirt took a photo as they drove by. Thanks to his team’s scouting efforts, Gage recognized the individual they’d marked as a potential Rajin Bandara cohort. One of at least thirty spies who hung around the embassy neighborhood. 

The two-vehicle motorcade cleared the gates without incident, and Gage barely waited for the van to come to a complete stop before he exited, but paused in surprise as the ambassador walked over to Wyatt. 

“Is Chantal okay?” she asked.

“Fine, Ambassador Durant.” 

She returned his smile and greeted her daughter with a nod. “I’m sorry you closed early. Will this interfere with the symposium roll-out from your end?”

That was why she’d walked out to greet her daughter?

“Nope. We’ve already sent the majority of our supplies to Hatton. I’m short a couple of massage beds, but we can make a plan.” Chantal smiled proudly. 

“Yeah, well. You have a bunch of new-age volunteers working for you. I’m expecting your best.”

“Madam Ambassador, would attending this event be wise?” Gage had to ask. 

Pinning him with a scornful glare, the ambassador replied, “I issue at least one security alert a month due to unrest. Like you, I have a job to do. If the political climate worsens, I’ll revise our plans. If I needed your advice, I’d ask. Thankfully, I take advice from a Deputy Chief of Mission and an RSO. Who knew?”

Damn. Gage felt his balls shrivel. Gannon sniggered, and Gage shot him a withering stare. The ambassador turned away to talk to Wyatt. 

“The Anaconda got you good. Crushed you, real tight.” 

“Shut up, Jase.”

The ambassador was wrong and should listen to the instincts of the men on the ground. And fresh eyes saw trouble simmering down narrow alleys and on passing faces. Her dismissal disappointed Gage and could expose her daughter to unseen dangers.