Page 1 of Waiting for Him
Chapter One
Boomer sat at his office desk, his eyes narrowing as he studied the paper before him. The answers should be easy, but for the life of him, he couldn’t come up with the solution. He glanced at his cell phone to check the time and noted it was eighteen-twenty hours. The six-thirty appointment Colleen had scheduled for him was later than usual, but she’d told him the new client had requested the evening hour, so here he was, trying to kill a few more minutes.
Mondays and Tuesdays were the only evenings it wasn’t a problem for Trident clients to come to the compound where their offices were. The rest of the week, Ian and Devon Sawyer’s other venture, The Covenant, was open, and Trident clients might be a little shocked to see the BDSM club’s members in varying stages of undress walking through the parking lot.
The fenced-in compound consisted of four warehouses and was off the beaten path on the outskirts of Tampa, Florida. The first building after the guarded gate was home to the club. Beyond that was another gate leading to the remaining three buildings. Trident’s offices, bunk rooms, firing range, training areas, gym, and vehicle garage occupied the next two structures, and the final one had been renovated into two large apartments. The bottom one belonged to Ian and his fiancée, Angie, while Devon and his fiancée, Kristen, lived on the second floor. The rest of the building was empty, and plans were being drawn up to construct two more apartments. One would be home to Ian’s god-daughter, Jennifer Mullins, when she wasn’t at college. The men of Trident were her surrogate uncles, having served under her father in the teams. Ian had taken over her guardianship after her parents were killed in a home invasion the year before. The last unit would be offered to the youngest Sawyer brother, Nick, whenever he decided to opt out of the Navy. He’d made it through BUD/s, the SEALs’ intensive training three years ago and was now with Team Three in Coronado, California so the twenty-five-year-old wouldn’t be joining them anytime soon.
As Boomer tapped his pen on the desk, he looked over the hints available and became more frustrated because he still couldn’t figure it out. He glanced up as Ian walked in and sat in one of the two guest chairs on the other side of the desk. “What’s a nine-letter word for vague? Starts with an ‘A’ and the fifth letter is a ‘G.’”
“Ambiguous.” Ian rolled his eyes. “And if you’re going to keep asking me for help with the daily crossword puzzles, I’m getting you a fucking thesaurus for Christmas this year instead of your bonus.”
Boomer gave his boss a smirk as he filled in the blank spaces of the puzzle. “You do, Boss-man, and I’m signing you up for an anchovy-of-the-month club.”
Even though he knew his friend and employee was joking, Ian got a queasy look on his face. Boomer always found it funny how, out of six retired SEALs, he was the only one who liked the oily yet salty fish, considering how much time they’d spent in and on the ocean while in the Navy. Well, maybe that was the reason.
“Not funny, Baby Boomer.” Ian picked up the stress squeeze ball the other man kept on his desk and tossed it back and forth between both hands. “So, did you find any information on this new client?”
Boomer threw the pen on the newspaper and leaned back in his chair. “Nope. Colleen said the woman, a Kate Zimmerman, needed to hire Trident, but she wouldn’t deal with anyone except me. I’ve racked my brain and can’t recall ever meeting anyone by that name. I tried calling the phone number she’d left but got the standard computerized voice telling me to leave a message. It comes back to a throwaway cell.”
“One-night-stand?”
He snorted but didn’t take offense since all the guys on the team had participated in more one-night stands over the years than any of them cared to admit. Their time in the military and then the security business hadn’t given them many opportunities for long-term relationships. Even if it did, Boomer wasn’t interested. “I’d be lying if I said I remembered the first and last name of every woman I’ve ever slept with or scened with. But I’d like to think it would ring some sort of bell. Maybe she’s a friend of a friend or something.”
“Could be.” They both knew a lot of their business was gained by word of mouth. “Guess we’ll know in a few minutes. If she has no objections, and even if she does, I’ll sit in on the meeting until we find out what she needs from us. If it’s a bullshit my-husband’s-cheating-on-me thing, I’ll leave you to it.”
“Fine with me. Are we the only two left in the office?”
Both men’s phones chimed a text. The guard at the front gate was alerting them to their new client’s arrival. Murray would buzz her through the second gate and instruct her where to park. They stood, and Boomer grabbed a legal-sized yellow pad and pen while Ian headed for the door. “Yeah. Colleen left. Polo and Egghead are on their way to New York to escort a shipment of diamonds from a dealer to the buyer here in Tampa. Jake is trying to track down one of his informants, who he’s worried about—he hasn’t seen the guy in about two months, which he says is unusual. And my lucky brother is wedding venue shopping with Kristen and picking out pink tablecloths with matching napkins as we speak.”
“Ha!” Boomer barked and shook his head. “I wouldn’t fuck with him, Boss-man. You’re right behind him, and karma’s a bitch. Angie will soon be dragging your ass through the same tablecloths and napkins.”
“Don’t I know it. I’m trying to talk her into eloping but not having much success.” The pained look on his face was mostly false since Boomer knew he’d give his woman the world if she asked for it. Well, he would if he didn’t have to help pick out matching flowers, cummerbunds, and bridesmaids’ dresses. “I’ll get your client and meet you in the conference room.”
“K. Just going to hit the head really quick.”
* * *
While Boomer headed in one direction for the bathroom, Ian walked in the other toward the reception area. The front door could only be opened from the inside by a lock release behind Colleen’s desk or by a hand scanner, which unlocked the door for only those whose prints had been programmed into the system. He pulled the door open and found himself looking at a brown-haired beauty who seemed to be about Boomer’s age of thirty. Wearing a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved, navy blouse, she stood about five-foot-five in her flat, off-white shoes, which matched the belt at her slim waist. Her slender build made the shirt and pants look a little big like she’d recently lost some weight but had yet to find clothes to fit her new frame. In Ian’s opinion, she looked too thin.
She took off her sunglasses and peered up at him with big chestnut-colored eyes. “Hi, my name’s Kate Zimmerman. I’m looking for Ben Michaelson. I have an appointment with him, and the guard told me he was in this building.”
When she glanced over her shoulder to where Murray was keeping watch at the front gate, Ian’s eyes didn’t follow hers. Instead, he stared with interest at Beau, sitting near the driver’s door of Ms. Zimmerman’s Ford Focus. The goofy-faced dog was panting, but something about his posture and seeming to be in a “stay” position had Ian eyeballing the woman in front of him. She saw where his gaze had been, and the corners of her mouth curved upward a tad as he raised a curious eyebrow at her. Her smile didn’t quite meet her anxious eyes, and when he got no answer to his unasked question, he opened the door wider. “Please come in, Ms. Zimmerman. I’m Ben’s boss, Ian Sawyer. It’s nice to meet you. If you don’t mind, I’ll sit in on your appointment.”
Her smile faltered a little before she recovered. “Um, no. I mean, it’s fine. I don’t mind. It might be better that way.”
Ian’s curiosity was now further piqued, but he wasn’t getting any bad vibes from her other than her nervousness, so he let her last comment slide for the moment. He glanced back at Beau, who was still sitting there with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and seemed to be waiting for a command. Ian tapped his leg. “Beau, heir.”
The dog rushed over to his master, stopped, and when he received a slight hand signal, trotted past him on the way to the darkened conference room. Ian had discovered the dog when it was a young puppy. Its dying mother had dug under the compound’s perimeter fence to find a human who would care for the little guy. When Beau was old enough, Ian took him to a friend who trained dogs for police departments and private security firms. Now, the silly-looking mutt was trained as an aggressive tracking dog as well as a guard dog. All his commands were given in German since it wasn’t a common language in the States.
“He’s beautiful. Lab and Staffordshire Terrier, correct?”
“We think so. I found him as a pup . . . well, actually, he found me.” He shut the door and gestured her toward the conference room. “The vet thinks there may be something else mixed in there, maybe Great Dane, because his legs are a little longer than normal for the two breeds.” He turned on the overhead lights to the room as they entered. “Please have a seat. Boomer will be here in a moment.
“Boomer?” she queried as she placed her large purse on a chair while he pulled out the one next to it for her to sit in.
Ian sat across from her, leaving his usual chair empty. Although this was his company, he trusted his employee to take the lead in the unknown case. The client had requested him specifically, and Ian was willing to cede his authority for the moment, giving Boomer the “head” seat at the table.
He studied the woman for a few seconds before answering her. “Sorry, I meant Ben. Boomer is his nickname from the Navy. No one uses his first name around here, but it’s out of habit.” He heard the man in question come down the hallway and saw him enter the room a second later. Ms. Zimmerman’s back was to the door, but Ian knew when she realized Boomer was there without seeing him. Her body stiffened.
