He got in, and the engine roared to life.
“The dogs don’t mind staying back there?”
“They love it, and we’re not going more than a mile. They could probably run it faster than we can drive.”
Last night, she’d been tired and drifting in and out of sleep when they’d arrived at the house. Now she could take in the adorable block. After a single turn at a stop sign, they were on an equally adorable main street, where traffic moved slowly, and people milled along the sidewalks. Location managers would fall over themselves to find a small town as picturesque. Jules didn’t plan to breathe a word about it.
After two stop signs, he drove them toward an estate perched at the end of town. The drive up the hill took longer than their time through town.
A gothic mansion appeared ahead of them. “Is that your office?”
“Yup.” He parked alongside a row of vehicles. “Vivian oversaw its renovation when Titan Group bought out another company and started a division focused on protection details.”
“This place is amazing. How long did it take her to do that?”
He pursed his lips. “I was one of her first hires. Renovation started about the same time. Remind me to tell you the backstory of how this all started. Absolutely wild.”
The dogs followed them inside, and Scarlett met them at the door.
Jules wrapped her arms around her.
“It’s so good to hug you,” Scarlett said.
Jules squeezed tighter. “Oh, and this is for you.” She reached into her purse and retrieved the small bag. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but Abigail and I asked Rhys, and he said it would match your hair. So here you are.”
Scarlett opened the beaded choker. “I love lilies.” She locked arms with Jules. “Jules is with me. Find us upstairs if you need her.”
They walked up a showstopping staircase that led to towering stained-glass windows. The place was creepy and cool and yet another place a location scout would kill to know about. Again, Jules planned to take this place to her grave.
“Now that Rhys is busy.” Scarlett led her into a parlor straight out of the early 1900s. “I have to pick your brain.”
Jules’s stomach dropped.Please don’t ask about Rhys.
Scarlett grabbed a chair and dragged it over to a hand-carved desk. A laptop and two large screens waited for them. Jules’sstomach sank again. She didn’t want to see the gossip sites or any paparazzi photos. “What are we doing?”
“You’ll see. Sit down.” Scarlett’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “One of my besties is a stylist for spooks.”
“Spooks?”
Scarlett mouthed, “CIA.” Then she added, “Pretend I didn’t say that.”
All right. The CIA had stylists. Why not? Surely, they had spies in disguises. “That sounds like a fun job.”
“My friend has the flu or something, and she can barely get off the bathroom floor but is up against a hard deadline.”
Jules thought of Abigail. “I’ve heard it’s going around.”
“It’s a cutthroat business, and she won’t pass the assignment on. We’re going to help pick the clothes.”
“We are?” Oh, this was cool. “How?”
“It’s like Rent the Runway, except for…” She mouthed, “spies.”
“If I came back in another life, I’d want to be a spy,” Jules confessed. “One of those sleek, stealthy types who drop ciphers into a secret spot at a European ball.”
Scarlett rounded her mouth. “You should tell Viv. I bet she could find something for you to do one day.”
Jules waved away the silly idea.
