Tropical Safeguard (Men Of The Secret Service) Read Online Free PDF Page A

definitely something bothering him. The chip
on his shoulder was doubling in size as they walked up the long winding
staircase to the second floor.
    “Is anything wrong?” Cole ventured,
noticing Kensing’s furrowed brow.
    “No, nothing. Why do you ask?”
    Thinking the question absurd since his
attitude was transparent, Cole shook his head, eyebrows raised. “I just sense
something bothering you, that’s all. Have I offended you in any way?”
    “I appreciate you asking, but like I
said, lets keep this professional. Me letting you know that my wife is thinking
of leaving me and I’m stewing over it would be crossing a line. Just got a
message from her and it ticked me off. Enough said?”
    “Enough said. I’ll drop it.” Cole felt a
pang of sadness at Agent Prickly’s disclosure, but not enough to dwell on it. The man
had made his own bed.
    After spending a much lengthier amount of
time securing the second floor guestrooms, the agents made their way back
downstairs passing through the kitchen on their way to the staff quarters. The
table was clear and Jacque was loading the dishwasher. Cole wondered where the
spitfire had gone, still uncertain about her role here at the mansion. She’d
peaked his curiosity. He’d missed his second chance to ask her at the table.
Agent Kensing had set the rigid tone and Cole didn’t want to continue it after
he’d left, so he ate in silence and avoided asking any questions.
    The staff’s quarters were located behind
the kitchen on the main floor. There were five rooms in total; one for the
chef; one for the chauffeur; one for Spitfire – whatever position she
held; and one for each of the agents. A full house. Cole and Agent Kensing
quickly looked into each room to get a lay of the land. The first two rooms
were messy and overflowing with personal possessions, the objects advertising
their owners. Jacque’s room was brimming with cookbooks on the dresser and the
bedside table. He had a framed certificate from Le Cordon Bleu above his bed. Damien’s
floor was covered in clothes and a picture of his ten-year-old daughter was in
a frame beside the bed. A poster of a sports car and a scantily clad woman hung
on the wall. The room was stereotypical bachelor – or teenage boy –
the lines were blurred. Clearly Damien was single, probably divorced. Why else
would he be living at the mansion? The accumulation of stuff lent itself to the
amount of time each staff member had been employed at the mansion.
    Cole knew the room with the cream-colored
walls and billowy white summer duvet on the double bed belonged to the stunning
yet defensive woman he’d met earlier. Katrina. Her room was sparse, tranquil,
and a string of Hindu prayer beads hung over the doorknob. It was as if she had
no possessions. And, like Damien, he assumed she was single too. She must be.
Why else would she be here? Unless…maybe her and Damien were an item? An
uncontrollable flicker of jealous heat licked under Cole’s collar at the
thought.   He pulled at it, willing
himself to relax.
    “Must be nice to have such a simple life.
Not too challenging,” Agent Kensing commented as they entered.
    Cole couldn’t tell if the man was
insulting her or paying her a compliment. He didn’t bother to ask. Something
told him she was anything but simple.
    “Nothing here,” the veteran agent said as
he passed Cole and left the room.
    The bathroom door stood ajar and Cole
noticed something pink on the floor. Panties. He looked away, knowing full well
that he should be leaving. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with….
    “What the hell are you doing in here?”
Katrina pushed the door open further and entered.
    “Ahh, sorry, I was just…” Cole felt his
face flush. He noticed her hand on her hip. Defensive. Confrontational. Quite
the opposite reaction he was expecting from someone into meditation yet the
only reaction he’d ever seen from her. In the brief moment of their stare down,
he also noticed