Page 8 of Forty Days and One Knight
His brow furrowed, and then a light bulb went off in his head. “A Rolodex?” he asked.
She smiled triumphantly. “Yes! That is it. A Rolodex. It sits on a desk, yes, with names and phone numbers on the cards?”
“Yup. You remember those things? I haven’t seen one in ages.”
“When I was little, my mother’s secretary had one; I liked sitting at her desk and spinning it.” Tilting her head, she studied him for a few moments. “You are a very handsome man.”
Darius stood, picked up his empty plate, and carried it to the sink. “Well, that didn’t take long,” he murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“For you to hit on me.” He cleaned the plate in the sink, then set it on a rack on the counter to dry. “You do know that Ian threatens all his operatives with unemployment and castration if they mess around with you, right?”
“Mess around? You mean if they try to get me in their beds. Yes, I do know that. Although, I do believe the warning is that my father will see to the castration. However, I was nothitting on you, as you say. I was merely making an observation. It is not often I can let my guard down and act like a normal woman.”
Crossing his arms, Darius leaned against the island counter and stared at her. “Normal? In whose world? Everyone’s definition of normal is different.”
She swirled her spoon in the ice cream container. “Normal like the wives and girlfriends of your Trident men. Please do not get me wrong—I love my country, its people, our history, and our culture. But being a princess is not what most little girls fantasize about. My every move is watched by the guards and reported on by the news and tabloids. And forget social media—most of the things posted about me on there never happened. While I use certain sites to promote my charity work, I learned long ago not to read anything I am tagged in. People can be so cruel and easily believe the lies that are told on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. They have no problem viciously attacking people they have never met.
“My life can be very lonely, even though I am constantly surrounded by people. I must always be smiling in public and never raise my voice or do anything to dishonor my crown or family. I must confess that is why I have enjoyed flirting with some of my American bodyguards. Ian Sawyer ... I mean, Ian is a man my father and Amar trust implicitly.” She smiled. “I also have a sixth sense, if you will, about whom I can trust. It is only those men who I will flirt with, if they do not have a wife or fiancée, because I know they will not try to take advantage of me. They will not dishonor the man they respect. Ian is a good employer, but he is also a good friend to all of you. You would never do anything to betray his trust.”
“Wow.” Darius was a little stunned. He’d always thought she was a spoiled brat, but now he knew his assessment had been completely off its mark. “Forgive me for making false assumptions, Your Highness.”
“You are forgiven, Darius, on one condition. When we are alone like this, out of the public eye, please call me Tahira. I do not hear my name often, without my title, unless I am with family. I have asked Ian and several of his family members to call me by my given name only, and, now, I am asking you as well.”
He dipped his head once. “If you insist, Tahira, it would be my honor.”
Standing, she returned the half-empty container to the freezer and placed her spoon in the sink. “Thank you, Darius. Now, I am going to return to my room and try to fall asleep. I hope you have a pleasant and quiet night.”
Watching in silence as she left the room, Darius tried to wrap his head around this new side of her he’d never seen before. She was a completely different woman than she’d been during his past bodyguard details and had definitely matured over the past two years. After a few moments, he grinned. He liked this new version of her—a lot.
9
Present ...
As he drove Torres and the others, who were drunk off their asses, back to the Diaz compound, Darius ran the minutes of the meeting with the teams through his head again. They’d tried to cover every detail and alternate ending to the planned raid, but with their experience, they knew shit could go sideways in the blink of an eye. As much as they wanted Diaz and his sleazy connections, the women came first. There would be no innocent casualties on Darius’s watch—not if he could prevent it.
He’d given Ian the names of some of the women being held hostage. He’d gotten them while hanging out in the compound security office, shooting the bull with the guards on occasion. The cell area had been wired for sound, and the women talked. He had first names on more than half of them, but only a few last names from when they’d introduced themselves to the newer captives. Darius had been surprised when Ian had recognized the name Melinda. Apparently, an acquaintance named “Lady Cara” believed a teenaged woman she knew had been kidnapped from St. Lucia by the human-trafficking ring. When his boss had shown him a photo on his phone of the missing woman, Darius had been able to confirm Melinda was one of the hostages being held at Diaz’s estate. She’d been in the makeshift prison for longer than Darius had been undercover as Glenn Hamilton.
After driving past the security shack at the gate, Darius parked the vehicle next to the bunkhouse the guards lived in. He helped the drunken idiots inside, then turned and headed for the main house under the guise of wanting something to eat from the kitchen. When he entered the large room, with its state-of-the-art appliances that any chef would be jealous of, he found it occupied. Two of Diaz’s flunkies were sitting there, stuffing their faces with food left over from dinner.
They both nodded in his direction, and the one named Carlos gestured to one of the empty chairs. “Hola, amigo. Beer’s in the fridge. Pull up a seat.”
When Darius had first arrived at the compound, he’d intentionally mangled the Spanish language to the point most of Diaz’s men spoke to him in English. They’d switch to Spanish when they thought he couldn’t understand their rapid speech. Little did they know he understood every word.
“Hey, guys, gracias.” Despite the warmth of the room, he left his bulky winter coat on. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he popped the top and took a swig. “How’s your shift going? Quiet?”
“Pretty much,” Carlos responded before smirking. “Although it wasn’t as good as Secada’s night.”
Darius leaned against the counter and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“While we were walking around the compound in the fucking cold, he was getting some tail.”
Something in the other man’s tone set Darius’s bat senses tingling. “He hooked up with one of the women on staff? Or did he bring someone to the compound?” The latter was against the rules Diaz had laid out for his men.
The other man, Javier, snorted. “Didn’t need to. He helped himself to one of theputasdownstairs.”
Oh, fuck.He tried to not let his anger or revulsion show. “Yeah, which one? They’re all hot.”
