Page 63 of Sasha’s Secret

His assumption about Ghost’s pedigree was confirmed with their first round of shots. All three of them achieved a perfect placement to take down the enemy. While they were reloading, Ghost had some questions of his own.

“So… you from the same outfit as Nick?” Ghost looked down the sights of his handgun before sliding the magazine into place.

“Nope.”

Ghost’s hand stilled. He looked Rocco up and down. “Uh-huh. Gotcha. I think you and I speak the same language… Trooper?”

At that, Rocco’s attention swung from his firearm to the man beside him. “Delta Force?”

“You got it,” Ghost confirmed.

“And the last I heard, which was a while ago,” Sasha said, “he was in line for a promotion to captain.”

“You heard right.” Ghost grinned. “You okay with that, Rocco?”

“I’m okay with that.” Rocco glanced down at the human-shaped targets with their clusters of bullet holes. “And yes… we do speak the same language, Captain.” He didn’t usually make a point of revealing his former regiment, but it was necessary now, as it had been when he’d told Sasha. “SAS until a couple of years ago.”

Ghost nodded. “I’d have been more surprised if you hadn’t said that.”

“Gentlemen,” Sasha said, “now that we all know what we really are or were, and we’ve proved we can all handle firearms, why don’t we grab a cup of coffee, find a quiet place to talk, and work out what we need to do to keep Linzi safe at the awards?”

* * *

Rocco strode down the corridor in the direction of Frank Schofield’s office. Although he’d already informed the security chief out of courtesy that he wanted a word, his present mood was anything but civil.

After a call to Tex, Ghost had agreed with their assessment of the high probability that the Schofields were involved in the campaign to terrorize Linzi. Their motive was still a mystery, as were the means by which they were delivering the threats—neither of them possessed computer skills advanced enough to cover their tracks so thoroughly. Everyone agreed something crucial was missing.

Rocco knocked on Schofield’s door and was already through it before the other man invited him in. After their previous one-to-one encounter, he was expecting a somewhat less than friendly reception, but that was all right—he was in no mood to observe more than the minimum niceties.

“Equizi. To what do I owe this honor? You here to fire some more of my men?”

Schofield almost spat the last word as he stood to greet Rocco—although “greet” was perhaps too friendly a word to describe his attitude, so different from the fake sociable front he’d deployed the first time Rocco had come to his office.

Rocco didn’t let the inaccuracy of the question rile him, or the open aggression in the other man’s stance. “I haven’t fired anyone, Mr. Schofield. Although maybe you should take appropriate action to fill in the gaps in their training—specifically in close protection. Your son is the only one with relevant training and experience.”

“Which is why I assigned him to accompany Miss Suto on Sunday. I’m not the one responsible for removing the only man with experience from her entourage.”

The self-righteous vibe made Rocco bristle, as did the condescending attitude. “Then you’ll be glad to know I’m reinstating him.”

“You’re what?”

“You heard. He’s on duty on Sunday evening. I trust you’ll inform him to that effect.”

Rocco didn’t even wait to hear Schofield’s response. If they were right about the Schofields, he’d just told Frank what he most wanted to hear, and one of their primary suspects was back in play.

Chapter 14

Rocco gave an irritated grunt and yanked the bow tie free of his collar for the third time. The damn thing was going to strangle him before the evening even started.

The fourth attempt worked, however, in spite of the fact that this time, he was concentrating more on the arrangements for the evening than what was going on around his neck. He’d already run through them several times, and even though he could list them backwards, there was never an occasion when “one more time” was a bad idea.

With his bow tie now in place, Rocco grabbed the tux jacket from the back of a chair and pulled it on. He patted the right hand pocket, checking for the comms pack he’d dropped in it earlier, and then left his quarters. Given there was still plenty of time before they had to set off, his destination was Sasha’s suite. With so many members of the domestic staff still milling around, he took the precaution of knocking on the door instead of walking right in.

“Who is it?”

He frowned. She sounded a little… odd. “Rocco. Everything okay?”

“Come in.”