Dix stared at the lush landscape damp from the previous night’s mist, so foreign to the deserts of Afghanistan and Las Vegas she might as well have been on another planet.
From what she’d been told, the building in front of her had once been a rich man’s home, but had been turned into a bed-and-breakfast by the remaining members of the family. As a home, it was larger than anything Dix had ever lived in. As a bed-and-breakfast, it was quaint and had a heck of a view of Cape Churn.
Her new boss, Royce Fontaine, had tracked her down to her small apartment in Las Vegas, where she’d been sorting through what was left of her belongings after donating most of them to a local women’s shelter. He’d said he’d been following her career. At first, she’d assumed he’d meant her career as an MMA fighter. She’d done pretty well, winning one championship after another, focusing all of her anger and frustration into her fists.
Her opponents didn’t have a chance. The women she’d fought had never been through the intense training she’d survived as one of the first women to pass the Army Ranger training program. Nor had they been tortured in an enemy camp. The anger had fueled her fists until one day she’d gone too far and left an opponent comatose with a very slim chance of recovery.
Royce thought she’d be a good fit for his team. Dix wasn’t so sure. But with no other skills to add to her résumé, what else was she fit for? She might have gotten a job as a security guard at one of the casinos, but the noise bothered her, making her head ache and the tensions to multiply.
So, now she was going to be a member of the SOS team. What exactly did an agent with the Stealth Operations Specialists do? Royce had told her, Anything that needed to be done.
Then he’d gotten word from one of his other agents that a wealthy man needed bodyguard services on a temporary basis while he interviewed and hired one he could trust.
“But what does a bodyguard do?” she’d asked Fontaine.
And he’d answered, “Whatever needs to be done.”
“Not helping,” she muttered as she walked toward the bed-and-breakfast. Hopefully the other members of the SOS team could shed light on her responsibilities. She couldn’t afford to lose this job. It might be the only offer she got, and the pay was good. As far as she could tell, all she had to do was keep a rich dude alive.
How hard could that be in the States? They didn’t have Taliban or Islamic State fighters...at least, not that she knew of.
“Hello. May I help you?” a female voice called out from the front door of the manor.
Dix shaded her eyes and squinted. “Is this the McGregor Bed-and-Breakfast?”
“It is.” An auburn-haired woman stepped out onto the porch and smiled. “I’m Molly McGregor, one of the owners. Do you need a place to stay tonight?”
“I don’t think so,” Dix said. “I’m supposed to meet someone here.”
The woman frowned. “Meet someone? Anyone in particular?” she asked, her smile warm and welcoming.
“Royce Fontaine sent me. Does that name ring a bell?”
Ms. McGregor’s eyes widened. “You’re D. Reeves?”
Dix nodded. “Dixie Reeves.”
The bed-and-breakfast owner clapped a hand over her mouth, smothering what sounded suspiciously like a giggle. She dropped her hand, a sparkle dancing in her eyes. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“We?” Dix didn’t like the sound of that. A single contact was all she’d been led to believe would be waiting for her in Cape Churn.
“Yes,” Molly continued, cheerful and happy, something Dix couldn’t begin to relate to. “The gang’s all here. We thought you’d be here an hour ago.”
“My plane was delayed by weather over Vegas or I would have been here sooner.”
“No worries. I kept your dinner warm.” She waved a hand. “Come inside. Everyone is waiting for you.”
“Everyone?” Dix halted with one foot on the bottom step. “I was told to meet my contact here.” After quitting the MMA circuit, Dix had no desire to step in front of a crowd of people ever again. Whether it was a throng of three thousand or a party of five, she wouldn’t perform like a trained monkey to the delight of others. In her mind, being a bodyguard was being invisible until she needed to step forward to protect her client. She’d actually looked forward to being invisible. No celebrity status. No paparazzi. After dropping out of the MMA, she never wanted to be in the public eye again.
“The entire West Coast office of SOS agents is in attendance tonight. You’ll get a chance to meet all of them.” Molly grinned. “Don’t worry—they won’t bite. Unless you try to take their clam chowder. I managed to save a bowl for you.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to meet my contact out here, get my marching orders and go on to my client.”
Molly’s smile slipped. “Oh, okay. But your client is inside, as well. He’s having clam chowder, too.” The woman’s smile returned. “You might as well have dinner with us. I think your client gave his housekeeper the night off from cooking.”
Dix squared her shoulders and continued up the steps. She wasn’t getting out of the dog and pony show. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m here to work, not socialize.”
“Is that our newest SOS agent?” A dark-skinned man, with brown-black eyes, a full, sensual mouth and a slight Hispanic accent, stepped through the front door behind Molly and slipped his arm around the redhead’s waist. He frowned, his head tilting to one side. “Dix Reeves? The Dix Reeves?” His face split into a wide smile. “Are you a guest of the bed-and-breakfast?”
So much for being invisible. Dix sighed. “No, I’m not here to stay. I’m here on work-related business.”
“Dix, this is Casanova Valdez. Or Nova for short.” Molly turned to the man. “Nova, this is the agent Royce sent.”
Nova’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand.” He flicked a hand toward Dix. “That’s Dix Reeves, one of the most talented MMA fighters ever.”
“MMA?” Molly asked, her brows rising. “I’m sorry—is that another one of your military acronyms?”
Nova laughed out loud. “No. It stands for Mixed Martial Arts. Dix, here, is at the top of her game.” He reached out a hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
Dix held out her hand and, with a firm grip, shook Nova’s.
“Wait—what did you say?” Nova didn’t release her hand. “You’re the agent Fontaine sent?”
With a nod, Dix extracted her hand. “That’s me.”
“But you’re with the MMA.”
“Not anymore. I quit a week ago.”
“That’s a shame. I watched your last fight against Peggy Pounder. You threw some wicked punches and kicks. I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite that intense.”
Her lips thinned. Intense was one way to describe the fight. Insane was closer to the truth. She’d had a particularly bad night’s sleep, plagued by nightmares from her time as a guest of the Taliban. She’d gone into the ring, not to claim a championship, but to beat the demons out of her head.
She’d nearly killed her opponent.
Molly touched Nova’s arm. “Was that the fight you were watching last weekend?”
Nova nodded. “Incredible.”
Molly’s brows knit, her smile fading. “Didn’t that woman end up in the hospital?”
Dix’s belly clenched. “Yes. She’s still in a coma. It’s not one of my prouder moments.” Dix stared