Page 19 of Centurion

“What are you thinking about so hard over there?” Ronnie asked as the limo that met them at the airport pulled away from the curb. She’d put up the security divider as soon as she’d entered the car.

“Honestly, about the tech it took to know I was searching for you.” He turned to her. “I’d give my left arm to have a crack at that type of tech.”

“I’d rather you didn’t give up any body parts.” Ronnie laughed. “The tech is above my pay grade.”

“Which means it’s way above mine.” He turned to her. “Why? What are you hiding that’s so secret no one can know who you are or where to find you?”

“I have a cover ID. I told you, most of the time, I’m a fashion designer trying to build clientele. The gown Sophia was wearing was my creation.” Ronnie patted his hand. “You’ve got more information with that little tidbit than anyone else. Be happy with that for the time being.”

“I’m not really the type to settle for partial answers.”

“And that’s why Guardian trusts you to do your job.” She stared at him. “And they trust me to do mine. I’m an assassin, Con. Never forget that. My job is to kill monsters who prey on those who can’t defend themselves.” Her gut turned over the memories of when Charley had been taken. Never again would she feel helpless. Never again would she sit on the sidelines while others rushed to help. She worked every day to ensure her capabilities did not diminish. She wasn’t used often, but when she was called on, she was ready.

Con sat up and looked around the car. “Are you sure there isn’t a hidden microphone in this car?”

Ronnie lifted a brow and reached over to open a side panel. The lights were all green. “Nobody can hear a thing.”

Con left his seat, and knee-walked to the panel. He examined it, then whistled. “This isn’t your ordinary limo, is it?”

“No.” She smiled. “It has a few upgrades.”

His head whipped around. “Pleasetell me it has hidden machine guns or missile launchers.”

She laughed. “Sorry. Just enhanced security. It can go through an explosion without being compromised. The next panel over should interest you.”

Con opened the panel and sat back on his heels. “Would you look at that?” He whistled long and low. “Sweetheart, come to daddy.” He traced the interfaces with his fingers. “How? This equipment turns this vehicle into a mobile command post. You could direct a war from that seat.”

“Or a recovery operation.” She’d witnessed her father do that exact thing. After the Siege, for safety reasons, they’d traveled to London. Her father was in constant contact with Charley and the recovery operation. He’d worked for days with little to no sleep. She took it upon herself to be with him and become his and her mother’s sentinel. Her brothers spelled her after a week, but she’d learned so much about her dad and what he was made of during that time. She looked out the window. She’d matured a bit more that week and learned to appreciate her father as the head of a global security industry. And because of the burden he voluntarily placed on his shoulders, she’d learned to understand his desire to protect her. The confines of that protection still grated, but not as much.

“Yeah, that, too,” Con said as he closed the panel. “What’s in here?” He opened the next one. “Oh … Pappy!” He held the bottle out. “The good stuff, too. Thirty years old.”

She chuckled. “Do you like bourbon?”

He shrugged. “I’m not much of a drinker. I work out too damn hard to ruin it with alcohol. But I can appreciate good hooch. My father has a glass of this every Sunday night. It’s his treat to himself.”

“Alcohol as a treat is fine, but as you said, I work out too damn hard to drink too many empty calories. Besides, if you’re inebriated, you’re not in control.” The beer she’d shared with him was the first drink she’d had other than for appearances in at least six months. Normally, she held a glass of wine all night long and pretended to drink it. She didn’t like the diminished state alcohol put her in.

“And I would assume you, like me, hate not being in control.” He made his way back to the seat and flopped back into the corner, looking at her with those dark brown eyes.

“Detest the idea, actually,” she admitted.

Con sat up. “Shouldn’t we have turned here? Where are we going? I thought we had hotel reservations?”

She shook her head. “Next exit, and we’re staying at my flat. It has proper security and comm hookups.”

Con relaxed. “Ah, like the car.”

Ronnie nodded. However, every apartment she’d ever had was always fitted with security and comm accessibilities. It was a requirement of her father’s for all his children.

The flat she had in London was refurbished before she moved in. Her father’s construction and architect team had completed the upgrades but kept the old-world feel. The original crown moldings, medallions, fireplace surrounds, domes, cornices, skirting, and raised wall paneling were restored to their original glory. Her flat was actually three flats made into one, making her residence in the historic Lennox Gardens in Knightsbridge one of the largest in the area.

Her parents owned a mansion in Chiswick that had been under renovation for as long as she could remember. Her mother absolutely loved the place and worked relentlessly with historians and designers to return the home to its once glorious splendor while incorporating the updated requirements her father insisted the residence have. The last time they were in London, it wasn’t done. She doubted the mansion would ever be finished.

Con’s yawn brought her back from her drifting thoughts. “How long has it been since you slept?” She was tired. Last night, which turned into a clusterfuck of epic proportions, was supposed to be a quick in and out. Intel and surveillance. Man, was that mission brief wrong.

“Ah … I worked all night the night before the party. But I grabbed a nap before I went to serve my time at forced socialization.” He yawned again. “After I check in, I’ll grab a nap.” He looked at her. His eyelids were heavy, and he had a bedroom come hither look in his eyes. “How many bedrooms do you have at your place?”

“Five.” She smiled at him and cocked her head. “So, no forced proximity. Sorry.”

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