Page 2 of Sasha’s Secret

He could use a glass of water, but Rocco was reluctant to indulge in anything that might extend his time in Nick and Charity’s home. They might run the business from here, but it was still the place where they lived, and that made him a tad uncomfortable. “No, I’m good, thank you.”

She nodded. “Okay then. You should find everything you need in the cabin, but if there’s anything else, please let me know, and we’ll see you at dinner.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay. Let’s get you settled in.” Nick picked up a key fob and a small envelope from the top of the nearest cabinet. “We’ll drive over. You can follow me in your rental.”

Nick took one of the Escalades, and Rocco drove behind him. The distance wasn’t that far—he could jog it in a few minutes and not break into a sweat. He was also pretty damn sure Nick could too, which begged the question, why had he chosen to drive?

On arriving at the cabin, Nick waited at the door, while Rocco retrieved his luggage from the SUV.

“We’ve started to implement a security upgrade around here.” Nick extracted a key card from the envelope and held it up. He inserted it in a slot in the reader unit, then tapped a code on the numeric panel on the display screen. “This one’s been programmed for you. The code’s on the envelope. You’ll find a similar unit inside, but on that one, you can change your access code.”

“You didn’t go with biometrics?”

“We evaluated that option, but concluded we’d be using a sledgehammer to crack a walnut, at least for the time being. Right, I’ll let you settle in, and we’ll see you in an hour, but one more thing before I go.” He held out the key fob for the Escalade. “Your company car. Let me have the key for the rental, and we can make arrangements to return it.”

Rocco could have sworn there hadn’t been anything about a company vehicle in his contract but he wasn’t about to argue. “Thanks. Is there anything else I need to be aware of?”

Nick shook his head. “Not right now. We’ll make a start on the details in your orientation tomorrow. I’m glad you decided to join us here, Rocco. I hope you’ll find the work interesting and worth the upheaval.”

And with that, he drove off in the SUV, leaving Rocco to silence, his new home… and old thoughts. One thing was for sure—his new billet was a damn sight better than the accommodation at the likes of Camp Bastion. Once he started his assignment, though, he’d be spending little time, if any, around here. He’d be wherever his principal was, until he was no longer required.

And then what? Hopefully another assignment, and then another and another, anything to maintain the extra distance from his old man. London was only three hours from Sicily, and that put him too damn close to his father’s disapproval of his life choices. Dario’s passionate, headache-inducing defense of the vineyard and winery that had been in the Equizi family for generations still reverberated through Rocco’s memory, as did his tenacious expectation that Rocco would take over the business one day.

No fucking way was that ever going to happen. Hell would freeze over before he’d willingly choose a dead-end existence working the land the way his father did.

Rocco stifled a yawn. A demand for sleep was gnawing at the edges of his consciousness but he wasn’t about to give in to it. He’d get through dinner with his boss and his wife, and then he’d crash.

After changing the code on his key card, Rocco headed for the kitchen. A quick look around confirmed his initial impression of the standard to which it had been fitted out. The huge refrigerator was stocked with the basics, and the water from the dispenser in the door was chilled to perfection.

Boots off, Rocco sprawled on the brown leather couch. He glanced at the bags, still sitting where he’d dropped them. There was little point in making himself too much at home here. If all went according to plan, a week from now he’d be far from the cabin and fully focused on protecting his principal.

All he had to do was get through that week, starting with dinner with his new boss. Then he’d unpack his clothes and deal with any creases. No matter what, his personal standards wouldn’t allow him to turn up for a new assignment looking like an unmade bed.

* * *

Around three hours later, as he made his way back to his accommodation, Rocco was considerably more at ease than he’d been before dinner. With food as the icebreaker, conversation had flowed freely, and he’d even joined in with the laughter as Nick and Charity entertained him with the trials and tribulations of trying to set up a multi-million dollar business and get married—and in Nick’s case, acclimating to Texas as well.

However, the major success of the evening was the file Nick had reluctantly handed over, in advance of providing Rocco with access to a company laptop and cell phone. He’d tried to insist Rocco wasn’t on the clock yet, but as far as Rocco was concerned, he’d been on company time since he’d boarded the plane back in London. When he went to meet his principal, he wanted to hit the ground running, and the sooner he made a start on what would enable him to do that, the better.

The physical file was mostly a hard copy of what was held on the electronic case file on the company database, prepared by Charity in case Rocco wasn’t able to connect to their private network at any time. She was some sort of IT specialist, although when she and Nick had first met, she’d been running her own coffee shop. Rocco had a feeling there was a lot more to that story than met the eye.

After grabbing a tall glass of chilled water, he stretched out on the couch and started on the file. His top-level brief was to review the security arrangements at his principal’s home in the light of recent threats, and provide personal protection when she left the property, so every piece of background information he could get his hands on would be useful.

The information pack consisted of various sections, including dozens of examples of the social media posts that had caused alarm in the first place. He skimmed through some of them, noting the vicious nature of the increasingly menacing threats. They weren’t really his area of expertise, but for now, Rocco was more interested in the people anyway.

His client was Linzi Suto. The name seemed vaguely familiar, and as he continued to read, he soon discovered why. She was the latest pop sensation, a talented but undeniably egocentric diva, if the majority of the news clippings were to be believed.

He sighed. That was all he needed—another temperamental principal. Nothing he could do about it now, but that was it—no more impulsive, willful women. He didn’t need them in his life. Not for work, and hell, not for play. His last relationship had ended with an explosive argument where he’d been accused of sleeping with the woman for whom he’d been providing close protection services.

Oh, the irony. Had his girlfriend but known. His principal in that case would much rather have slept with his now-ex than him.

He leafed through the handful of photographs of Linzi. There were a couple of publicity shots, all posed and perfect, not a hair out of place and with her face plastered with makeup, and some paparazzi images, taken against a crush of fans when she was arriving at some gig or other. Granted, she was pretty enough, and clearly talented enough to make a significant impact in the fickle world of show business. Age twenty-two, a Texas native, five-two, around a hundred pounds—maybe—with platinum blonde hair and blue eyes. Both parents still alive. On the negative side, there were reports of her throwing a few public tantrums too many for Rocco’s peace of mind. That kind of behavior attracted attention, and in spite of what those who lived their lives in the public eye might think, not all attention was good.

He continued through the file. It appeared he was going to be plying his trade at an estate situated near the state capital, Austin. He grimaced when he came to a description of the riverside location. Although it was characterized as a private compound comprising three residential properties with several ancillary structures, with that much riverfront open to any passing shithead in a boat, securing it effectively would be… problematic. Rocco filed the details away for further investigation once he was on site.

The file also contained information about those closest to Linzi. Gerry Brookes was her manager. He’d been around the business a few years, handled quite a few stars in that time, but was now a one-trick pony—the pony being Linzi. Fifty-something, twice divorced and currently single, he had the look of a man who’d partied hard in his time. Rocco didn’t see anything that made him particularly uneasy, but again, he’d check the man out thoroughly once he was on site.