asked of them. That was duty. But Spence was also acknowledging his acceptance of the confidential nature of the mission.
“It’s come to my wife’s, and therefore my, attention that our daughter is in a dangerous position. To be honest, I first considered Anne’s concerns to be motherly overprotectiveness. But the key to a successful marriage is compromise. So despite my thoughts on the matter, I gave in to her request that I use my resources to access nonclassified information on an individual who’s come into Mia’s life. That research has led me to believe that my wife’s instincts are accurate.”
Cade lifted a manila file from his desk, hesitated, then held it out. Taking it, Spence continued to watch his commander.
Whatever was in the file was backup and details for later.
For now, he waited for his orders.
“I’ve already given orders to expedite your out-processing clearances. Details, such as lodging, transport, etc., are in this file.” Cade handed over the file with the admonishment, “Keep in mind, this is a covert operation. You’ll need to fit into the environment convincingly in order to secure your objective.”
“And the objective is?”
“Gain my daughter’s trust, keep her safe and end her association—on all levels—with Santiago Alcosta, while ensuring that her reputation is not damaged and her business not impacted. There is an event being held in San Francisco in three days. Your mission starts there.”
“How deep is my cover?”
“Use your own name and whatever personal history you feel is necessary to make your role convincing. Your rank, your time in the military and your connection to me are all classified.”
Maybe it was his near-civilian status, but Spence heard himself ask, “You’re ordering me to lie to the target? To your daughter?”
Like any commanding officer giving a morally questionable order, Cade didn’t even blink.
“Affirmative. This mission is and will remain classified. Standard protocols.” Cade gestured to the door. “You have your orders. I expect them to be carried out, Lieutenant.”
All the best missions included careful planning, the right equipment, good weapons and the potential for danger.
This, sadly, was not one of those.
It’d taken him three days to prepare. Travel and arranging to stay at a buddy’s apartment in San Francisco had been easy enough. Negotiating a concealed weapons permit as a civilian had necessitated pulling a lot of strings, and getting his hands on the main equipment the admiral ordered—a fitted tuxedo—had taken even longer.
As far as the potential for danger went, after reading through the file and then doing the basic research any covert op required, Spence had come to the conclusion that while Alcosta came from so much dirt and the man was filthy by association, Alcosta’s own business practices were on the up-and-up. Since plenty of government agencies had reached the same conclusion, he was pretty sure that this mission was on par with a babysitting job.
A babysitting job that paid really well, Spence reminded himself. Besides, if he scored a position with Aegis, providing personal security would quite likely be part of the work description. Hopefully for high-level politicians, notable scientists and other high-risk VIPs, instead of his former commanding officer’s do-gooder daughter.
But an assignment was an assignment, he reminded himself as he strode down the hallway toward the ballroom, his motorcycle boots echoing with each step.
The only problem was, in the week since receiving the admiral’s orders, he hadn’t quite nailed down the specifics of infiltrating the daughter’s world. Maybe something with security. He’d figure it out once he’d assessed the situation. He hadn’t earned the call sign Improv for nothing.
With no plan more solid than making contact, Spence stepped into the sun-drenched ballroom, watching people scramble around like confused ants, arms filled with linens, peacock feathers and, for some weird reason, paintbrushes.
“Mia, half the tablecloths are missing.”
Spence looked around for his objective. Mia Cade.
According to the file, she was a willowy five-ten. Admiral Cade hadn’t included a photo, so Spence found himself searching for a thinner version of the admiral.
But there didn’t seem to be any white-haired, heavy-jowled women striding through the ballroom, with hands clasped behind their back while scowling at the workers scurrying around.
He did see a very tempting backside, though.
Her long, bare neck emphasized delicate shoulders and a slender back, wrapped in a vivid green tunic that draped over the sweet, tight curves of her butt encased in black leggings. He couldn’t be sure of her actual height since her knee-high boots had heels, but he’d put it close to five-ten.
She was either the target or the woman he’d be making breakfast for.
He angled to the left, wanting a better look.
“Excuse me.”
Spence shifted to one side to let a four-foot urn of flowers with legs pass.
Spence gave an appreciative hum when the sexy woman bent over to lift a cardboard box. Damned if that position didn’t give him a few intriguing ideas. His smile spread as he wondered if she’d do it again, to music.
His mind added a bluesy beat while he watched the woman’s backside as she handed the box off to a curly-haired blonde wearing a walkie-talkie and hoped like hell the sexy rear view didn’t belong to Cade’s daughter.
If luck was with him, the woman with the sexy backside had nothing to do with Mia Cade. Instead, he’d make contact with the target, she’d mention how cool it’d be to have a little security help and hire him, then introduce her sexy, dancing assistant, who’d want him working with her side by side.
Yeah. Spence could see that happening.
“Mia, the crystal is here but the cutlery is missing. Three waiters have called out sick and the, um, cellist? Is that what that says?” Tucking the box under one arm, the blonde held out a note. “Cellist? That’s the big violin, right? The sad-sounding thing?”
Damn. The sexy view was Mia Cade. Lust punctured like a dart in a balloon.
The last time he’d had luck like this, he’d lost his night vision.
“Dude, you’re right in the line of traffic.”
While Spence sidestepped the man wheeling in a dozen cases of wine on a dolly, his fantasy hurried off, leaving the blonde with a box anchored under one arm and a clipboard in the other.
Disappointment piercing his gut like a piece of shrapnel, Spence lasered in on the blonde, figuring her as his best in with his target.
“Excuse me.”
The blonde glanced up from the clipboard and pursed her lips as she got a good look at him. Brows arching, she gave a flirtatious flutter of her lashes.
“What can I do for you?” she purred. “I’m willing to do anything. Anything at all.”
“I’d like to speak with the lady in charge.”
The blonde stopped fluttering.
“You want Mia?” she asked, giving him a suspicious once-over. “Why?”
“I just need a second to talk with her. Why don’t I help you with that?” He gestured to the box.
“You’re here to help? Mia said Karen might send someone over. Great.” Practically tossing the box his way, the blonde gestured with her clipboard. “The way Mia