Page 1 of Sasha’s Secret

Chapter 1

When Rocco Equizi stepped out of the air-conditioned terminal of the small regional airport, several months’ worth of ever-increasing tension finally dropped away, leaving him with the sense that this transfer to the US arm of Spectrum Security truly was the fresh start he craved.

The jury, however, was still out on whether staying with Spectrum for the long term was the right decision for him. Although his last assignment had gone well, Rocco had come out of it feeling restless and wondering if it was time to move on. With a generous bonus burning a hole in his pocket—his reward for keeping his somewhat notorious, headstrong principal alive during her visit to London—he’d been tempted to use it on getting lost in some obscure corner of the world. Possibly permanently.

Before he could do anything about it, though, his boss had hauled his ass into her office for a friendly chat. The last thing he’d expected was the offer of a close protection position in the States.

“Don’t get me wrong, Rocco,” Ros Northwood had said. “I have plenty of work for you and I’d be happy to give you your choice of assignments, but I suspect there’s more going on here than another bodyguard gig can cure. You’re a great asset to the business, and I don’t want to lose you to the competition, so what can I do to help?”

He hadn’t known how to answer, given he wasn’t sure what the problem was, unless it was the same problem that had dogged him for years, but he doubted it was solely responsible for his current disquiet. So Ros had carried on talking, and when she’d mentioned the operation they were launching in Texas, a spark of interest had come to life inside him.

“You probably wouldn’t have had much to do with our long-distance CFO, but he was the one who came up with a radical solution to the issue of where to site our US base. I happen to know he’s looking for a close protection expert for a high-profile client. Do you think an equally radical change of scenery might help?”

“Would it be a permanent move?” Interested though he was, Rocco hadn’t been sure he was ready for that level of commitment.

“Leaving aside the formalities, from a company point of view, it’s as permanent as you want it to be. If you don’t want to stay on after your first assignment over there, there’s nothing to prevent you from coming straight back, if that’s what you want. Take a few days to think about it, Rocco. There’s no pressure on you to go—the decision’s entirely yours.”

So he’d made that decision, and here he was, ready to take on whatever his new boss was going to throw at him. Or rather, whoever. “High-profile” could mean anything. He’d find out soon enough.

Rocco flexed his shoulders. Business class for the transatlantic flight had enabled him to stretch out, but cramming his six-foot-one-inch frame into the economy-class seat for the flight to the regional airport had been a challenge. Fortunately, the drive from there to his ultimate destination wouldn’t take too long.

Although Nick Blackmore had offered to meet him at the airport, Rocco had declined, in favor of making his own way out to the ranch. They’d Skyped a couple of times since Rocco had made his decision to head across the Atlantic, but at the end of a very long day, he hadn’t relished the prospect of making small talk on the final leg of the journey. All he wanted to do was throw his bags into the trunk of the rental SUV, program his destination into the GPS, and concentrate on the road.

On the flight over, he’d used some of the time to review his schedule for the first few days. One particular item on the agenda had attracted his attention, and that was gaining his license to carry a concealed weapon. Good. He could have done with that a couple of times on his last assignment, but… different country, different laws.

They’d allowed a few days for orientation, dealing with the formalities, and generally acclimatizing to the change of surroundings. Rocco didn’t expect it to take too long—thanks to his training and experience, he was nothing if not adaptable.

Although the drive wasn’t long and the GPS made navigation easy, Rocco was still relieved when his vehicle’s headlights swung off the road and lit up the wide gateway to Honey Fields Ranch, a name that still seemed at odds with its function as the headquarters for a security organization. When he’d checked the itinerary for his journey, he’d even asked if it was a joke.

Now, he was about to find out for himself.

There was a certain surreal quality to driving up the approach road to Honey Fields Ranch, especially in the dark, with the lights picking out fence posts and tree trunks on the way. When he’d realized he needed a change of scenery, he’d never imagined the notion would lead to adding another few thousand miles to the distance between him and his father. Given the way their last conversation had ended, that was no bad thing.

At the end of the approach road, he found his destination. Illuminated by powerful floodlights, the ranch house was a sprawling structure, all wood, stone and glass, and an impressive centerpiece for the assorted buildings whose outlines lurked in the shadows beyond the circle of light.

Rocco pulled up close to the main house, alongside a pair of black Cadillac Escalades and a midnight-blue Dodge Ram pickup. All three looked near enough brand new. As he exited the vehicle, footsteps on the wooden porch alerted him to the presence of another.

“You found us, then. How was your journey?”

His new boss strode toward him, hand outstretched in greeting. In person, Nick Blackmore was more relaxed and approachable than Rocco had expected, and judging by the gray, open-necked shirt, work-worn jeans, and dusty cowboy boots, had pretty much gone native in a matter of months. The only thing missing was the Stetson.

The man’s grasp was firm, cool and dry, projecting an image of relaxed confidence. Maybe making small talk with his new CO wouldn’t have been such a hardship after all. “It was good, thank you, sir. Better than the average troop transport.”

The CEO of Spectrum Security Inc. raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Glad to hear it. And you can forget the ‘sir’. It’s Nick. We’re very informal around here. No, leave your bags where they are. I’ll take you in and introduce you, then show you where you’ll be staying—for the next few days, anyway, while we take care of your induction. Dinner’ll be ready in about an hour. It’ll give you time to freshen up, and then afterwards, we’ll leave you in peace until the morning. You okay with that?”

Rocco gave a mental shrug. It was all the same to him—if the boss wanted him to start his assignment right now or a week from now, then he’d run with it. “Sounds fine to me.”

He followed Nick into the ranch house, into a great, sprawling, open-plan space that incorporated several functions in one. The décor reflected the rustic exterior, but Rocco didn’t have a chance to take much more in, due to the approach of a petite woman with short blonde hair and a warm, vibrant smile. She too held out her hand as she neared him.

“You must be Rocco. I’m Charity Blackmore. Welcome to Honey Fields.”

Nick coughed. “I was about to introduce you properly.”

She shook her head, gave her husband a long-suffering look, and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be such a stuffed shirt, hon. You’re not guarding the Queen of England now.”

Rocco pressed his lips together to quell the urge to smile. When he’d been informed who he’d be working for, he’d done some research. As an officer in the Household Cavalry, Nick Blackmore had done exactly that during his career in the British Army—along with having an exemplary service record in theater—whereas Rocco’s former role in the SAS had been rather more clandestine and a hell of a lot less ceremonial. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Charity, please. Can I get you something to drink?”