Page 87 of Defenders of Jawhara

The tip had come in that someone associated with the El-Jawhara family was pissed off about the sheikh marrying an American and was working with Sumari insurgents—the very ones the Sumari government swore were no longer a threat. What worried Brock the most was that the tip had even come in at all. He was sure someone was trying to manipulate events and using the recent events in Sumari as fuel.

He glanced at Keira. She was keeping up her cover—which might already be compromised, but he had no way of telling that. So he kept her hand and told her, “You almost missed the big event. We’ll catch up on lost time later, sweetheart. Right now, we have a wedding to attend.”

4

Keira froze. Only for an instant. Brock stood tall enough that she had to look up at him to meet his eyes—and she stood at five foot ten in heels. He looked a touch red from the Jawhara sun, but he still filled out a suit to perfection.

She blinked and started moving again. It was bad enough that Slade hadn’t told her Brock would be here, now she had a wedding to attend? Right now? Was it Shira’s? It would make sense to move up the date, shifting it around to prevent anyone from being able to cause a problem. But was Slade going back on his promise that she could run this op?

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of complaining, honey bear.” Brock winced, and Keira wondered just how sappy she could get with the names she could think up. She pressed up close against him. “I just love that you’re here with me.”

Glancing at her, Brock gave her a look that just about stripped the short dress off her skin. His green eyes darkened.

Heat rushed over her and through her. She pulled back a step. “A wedding?” she asked. She glanced down at her outfit. “I’m not attending a wedding dressed like this. I’ll have to change.”

“Sweetheart, there isn’t time for that.” Brock crossed his arms over his chest. His muscles bunched nicely, so she squeezed a bicep.

“Make time,” she told him. “Now where’s my room? And see that the nice driver gets a good tip, and my luggage gets up to my room.”

Brock skimmed a hand over her hip. He pulled her to him. He nodded to a side door. “There’s a small room you can use, but only if you can change in under two minutes.”

“Two minutes? What, you think I’m a magician? Art takes time.”

“Okay, one minute fifty seconds now.”

She put on a pout but grabbed a bag. “Fine. Want to come watch?” She stepped into the small side room.

* * *

Brock followed her, watching the way that tiny dress of hers clung to her backside. She put sass into her hips, and he was having a hard time trying to think about anything except how she’d felt in his arms. Skinny, hell. She was all soft curves with molten fire underneath now. He shut the door behind them and watched as she zipped open a bag and started to pull out clothes.

She pulled off her dress, leaving herself in a skimpy bra and panties. He licked his lips and tried to think about anything except the kiss that had left him with the taste of her on his lips.

Handing him a hair dryer, she said, “Honey bear, plug that in, will you? My hair’s a mess.”

He grinned and did as she asked. When the hair dryer was humming, he said, “Not bad for white noise.”

“Gives us about a minute.” She grabbed a dress from the floor and pulled it on. Something in a pale color, long and slinky. She fluffed her hair. “So what’s the story? Slade didn’t trust me? And who is getting married?”

“New intel. Palace has a mole—or that’s the tip-off.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, pulled off her heels, and pulled out shoes that looked as if they’d been made out of nothing but gold straps. “And…?”

“And Slade doesn’t like it any more than I do, but we didn’t have a way to get you an update without impacting your planned cover.”

She nodded. “So you’re here. Who’s in charge?”

He was having a hard time concentrating. That dress had a low neckline, and Keira had bent over to put on her strappy shoes. “No change there. I have my job and you have yours. Now, we really need to be in the garden.” Brock waved a hand.

She straightened up and fluffed out her hair. “You still haven’t said who’s getting married.”

“Shira and Kale are tying the knot today. They decided not to wait, which makes our job both harder and easier. Harder to protect them with so many people around, but possibly easier to find who is out to get them.”

She pulled out a gold evening clutch, dug into her purse, and transferred her gun to the clutch. It left room for nothing else. Putting one hand on her hip, she asked, “What aren’t you telling me?”

His neck warmed, but he shut off the hair dryer and took her hand. “Are you ready, Ms. Clausen?” He hoped using her cover name would keep him from accidentally calling her by her real one. Opening the door, he pulled her with him to the rear of the palace.

They exited through large French doors into a fenced garden, lush and sculpted, and big enough to hold lavish parties. Paths wound around exotic plants he couldn’t name, but the center opened into a paved patio with fountains. A white tent had been set up to one side, opposite a stone terrace. Chairs, flowers, and ribbons seemed to be everywhere. Potted plants graced the terrace and the rest of the gardens, making it look as though they were in an oasis. Brock could hear a string quartet playing.

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