Secure Desire Read online

  His tone went from serious to joking. “I learned what serving my country was about. It sure wasn’t what you read in the enlistment brochures. I swear I had blue balls for the whole time I trained.”

  Cassie giggled again. “I lived with Christian in Coronado for a while. I was kinda stunned at how cold that water is.”

  Ian laughed, giving her a mock shiver as his thumb circled her palm. “I’d finished officer’s training and fifteen months of SEAL training when I gained access to my inheritance. At that point, I didn’t need the money to live on. With Kieran’s help, we made a few key investments. That was the start of the Chase Group. We developed Chase Ventures from there. The Navy was my current life, but the business was for the future. Kieran ran things until he enlisted, and Uncle Connor and Aunt Maeve took over until I was ready.

  “9/11 changed everything. It was Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom—and a bunch of stuff I can’t say. As time went on, things started to get murky. Politics became the third party we battled. But the big turning point for me was when Kieran sustained severe injuries on a mountain.” Cassie’s face filled with deep concern. “I took a bullet or two. It was time to get out. I felt I could make more of a difference in the private sector.”

  Cassie played with her straw. “Is that when you created Chase Security?”

  He nodded.

  “Where does your love for art come from?”

  Ian’s eyes wrinkled with devilment. “A girl I was dating my first semester at Stanford introduced me.” Cassie laughed. “She conned me into being a studio model. Let’s say my love for fine art lasted longer than my feelings for her. Can you imagine?”

  Cassie laughed again and studied his jaw and dimples. He had long eyelashes, sparkling eyes, full lips, a well-toned body, and a tall frame. “Hmm, a studio model. I bet your classes were full. Your frame has many sketchable points.” She placed a hand in front of her mouth, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “Did I say that out loud?”

  “I’ll have to pose for you someday,” he offered.

  Cassie stared down into her hands. She had not drawn in six years.

  “The nice thing about being financially secure, it comes with the ability to purchase pieces from artists I enjoy. I have some favorites such as Titian, De Kooning, LeRoy Neiman, Leighton, Picasso, Monet, a few by Renoir… and Sargent.”

  Cassie bit her lip. “I bet you love Sargent’s, Madame X.”

  Ian looked at her with a predatory gaze. “I appreciate a beautiful woman.”

  Cassie grabbed her glass and braced herself. Her emotional barriers were coming down. Let him go, Cassie. He can’t possibly want someone like you.

  The waitress arrived with their meals. Old-fashioned comfort food—meatloaf, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, tossed salad, and home-baked cornbread.

  “So enough about me. What’s your story, sweetheart?”

  Cassie was startled by the endearment. She’d learned Garett, her former fiancé, said nice things as a means to an end.

  “There’s not a lot to tell. I grew up in DC with my parents and brother, Tommy; they died about twelve years ago. Our dad was a Naval Academy grad with Uncle Luke. They were best friends.

  “My paternal grandmother was a prolific artist. The tulip paintings in my home were hers. My paternal grandfather was an accountant who loved to sculpt. My dad was an only child whose parents believed access to art breathed spirit into a child. Ellis Art Finds started as a way to bring fine art to people who wouldn’t have the opportunity under normal circumstances to go to a museum. They started the first programs in DC to bring art to underprivileged children. As their vision grew, the company evolved into procurement and appraisal for the public and private sector. It also sought out new artists from all over the world and helped proffer exhibitions.

  “While most children played with crayons, I was given charcoals. I was painting with watercolors by eight, oil by twelve. I loved to let my thoughts go free on canvas.” Her tone was melancholy.

  “My parents were high school sweethearts—love at first sight. All that gooey stuff that embarrasses kids. They were so affectionate with each other.” Cassie drifted into the memory. “My mom impressed upon us that just because we had opportunities, we weren’t better than anyone else, just luckier.

  “Don’t get me wrong, she loved the finer things in life. She is responsible for my shoe habit.” Cassie wiggled her foot to show off her stylish footwear. Ian took a deep breath.

  “Mom was a tenacious fundraiser and organizer. She chose who or what cause to donate to with caution. Her to-do lists had to-do lists.

  My parents pulled us into that life as soon as we were old enough. ‘You are an extension of us. You’re role models.’ Tommy was four years younger than me and all boy. He wanted to be like Chris-Chris, Leb, No-No, Sawnie and, Fankie Paulsen—that’s what I called them before I got my braces.”

  “Oh, Cassie, you gave me blackmail material. I am sure Noah’s SEAL teammates would love to hear his nickname is a woman’s hair removal product.”

  Cassie beamed. “His call name is Rainman. The forty-day-and-night rain thing. I don’t know if that’s much better.”

  “Stick with me, Cassie. I’ll make the nicknames worth it for you. It always helps to have a little blackmail material when it comes to brothers.” He stopped. “I’m sorry I interrupted your train of thought.”

  Cassie wrinkled her nose. “That’s okay. We spent a lot of time in the backyard at the Paulsen house. They didn’t have to do the society ball thing. Though, Noah escorted me to a few parties. He’s six months older than me, so he played my protector boyfriend. I didn’t realize my mom and dad were worried I was attracting attention from a couple of the older boys. My mom was uptight about me seeing boys.

  “It was funny. Dad was the softie and the military officer and the CEO. Don’t get me wrong—I loved my mom; I miss her desperately. She always wanted the best for us, always had a goal in mind. My dad, he was mellow, brilliant, and so talented. We used to paint together in grandma’s studio. I wish I could show you. It was a huge converted barn in the back of the house. Uncle Luke and Mark sold it.”

  “Who is Mark?”

  “Mark Devereaux. He is EAF’s COO. He was named co-executor in Dad’s will.”

  “I didn’t realize your dad painted too.”

  “He tried. I think it was his way of spending time with me. I was his princess.” Her eyes turned up to the ceiling. “Back to the Paulsens. I was the damsel in distress. They were always rescuing me from the bad guys. They still try now.” Sadness filled her eyes.

  “On my sixteenth birthday, Mom, Dad, Tommy, and I went to New York City. The weather and the things we did were incredible. We acted like kids — so much fun. We skipped through the Metropolitan and MOMA. We were making so much noise, we got shushed by the docents. That evening, we saw Phantom and had a late meal at Sardis. They even had a special cake for me. Mom and Dad arranged to fly us home in a helicopter because Dad had to be back for a meeting early in the morning.” Cassie picked at her food. “It crashed right after we took off. I lived. No one else did.” Her voice became flat.

  Ian reached for her hand again. “Cassie, I’m so sorry.”

  She forced back tears. “Bad stuff happens sometimes. When I woke up in the hospital, Uncle Luke was sitting next to me. Christian flew in. I guess he was about twenty-six. Caleb followed. He was somewhere.”

  “We were at Bagram.”

  She gulped. “I never put that together. You were Caleb's platoon leader. Noah had started basic training. Sean and Frank were still in high school, and Aunt Rachel stayed in Georgetown with them. For an orphan, I was lucky. I had new loving parents and five overprotective, alpha male brothers.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

  Cassie forced out a wistful breath. “Christian, Caleb, and Uncle Luke brought me home. Everyone pitched in, and with therapy, things came together. It was easier because Aunt Rachel and Uncle Luke were always li
ke second parents. I knew them, and they knew me.” A tiny, sorrowful whimper fell from her lips. Ian squeezed her hand.

  “GW undergrad and master’s—and Maryland for my doctorate.” Cassie pulled her hands from his and rubbed her hands on her thigh, soon curling them into fists, digging her nails into her palms. Her descriptions grew clipped. “I woke up one morning, and things were different. I went out and stayed with Christian for a while—for a change of scenery.” She focused on a spot over Ian’s shoulder.

  Ian watched her face. She’s good at hiding her emotions.

  “Coronado is beautiful. Christian has great friends, but some of them had issues after they came back. Service changed them—some were so damaged.” He saw touches of her passion as she spoke.

  “I know there is a psych requirement for when Special Ops guys come back, but we both know you can control the session. And most don’t open up. It seemed to me they feared letting people see them be real. War is ugly.”

  Ian swallowed hard. The beautiful woman across from him understood so much.

  “I started channeling my mother, I guess. Christian helped me realize I could make a difference. I made a plan, made some contacts, did my research, looked for office space, found property, hired the best and the brightest, and started Tommy’s House. I understood how fear and stigma affected their lives.”

  What are you afraid of? Ian noted the omission of her former fiancé, Garett Whitman.

  “Excuse me, Ian.” Cassie headed to the restroom.

  When she returned, Ian noticed a tinge of mascara on her cheek. “Sweetheart, I hope you know how much good work Tommy’s House does. We’re all honored by your efforts.”

  “Thank you. I should take the opportunity to thank you for the Chase Ventures donation.”

  “Duly noted.” Ian smiled again at the stunning, complicated woman in front of him.

  Cassie scrunched up her napkin. “Anyway, while I was out there, Uncle Luke asked for some help on a case. I learned Uncle Luke’s favors carry large price tags. The next thing I knew, I was at Quantico.”

  “Ha-ha. I know your uncle’s favors well.”

  “The Bureau uses my expertise for their benefit. I’m in the Art and Cultural Property Crime Division. It’s crazy. This year alone, we recovered about fifty million dollars in stolen art. Art is another currency of trafficking and terrorism. We found a Vermeer. Did you know Hitler liked his works?

  “We were able to trace it to a family now living in Florida. The Nazis took the painting and her family when Anna Rabin was eight. She’s now eighty. The look on her face when my partner, Steve Naughton, and I returned the painting to her.” Cassie glowed. She was, in this instance, the woman he remembered from the National Gallery.

  “I work for a great boss, Paul Yates. This thing with Wilds is temporary.” Cassie shrugged and did not add more. Ian knew enough about Wilds not to like the arrangement. Greg Wilds used his uniform to his advantage during his enlisted days, and now Ian suspected he used his FBI rank for the same. If he wanted something, he took it.

  A dessert of apple pie topped with vanilla ice cream and caramel shared between them sweetened the evening. Conversation lightened with easy, contented discussions about art, books, television, world politics, religion, and pets. “Animals love me,” Ian declared.

  “Knight did. I can’t believe he brought you my ID and gun.” Her green eyes beamed in the soft lighting on the table.

  “When Caleb comes home on leave, I need to speak with that boy,” Ian said while helping her from her seat.

  “You don’t have to. I don’t want to sic my five protectors—seven if you count Aunt Rachel and Uncle Luke—on you.”

  Was she afraid to tell her family about their meal together? Ian wanted to protect her too. He was developing an emotional attraction to her. In the short evening together, she managed to steal a piece of his heart.

  Leaving the restaurant, Ian wrapped a protective arm around her, but Cassie slipped from his grasp. “Don’t worry about me. I have handled a SEAL or two in my time, but Aunt Rachel may be a difficult mission. And if she hooks up with Lil, I’m doomed.”

  Cassie wrinkled her nose again and laughed.

  Lying in bed, Ian stared at his ceiling, wondering what had happened. The closer they got to her home, the more closed off she became. Cassie sat stiffly in the car with her arms wrapped around her waist to protect herself.

  “I would like to take you out again.” Ian leaned in to kiss her, his lips brushing against hers. When her silky lips touched his, he felt her attraction.

  Before he could deepen the kiss, Cassie pulled her seat belt free. “Thank you for a nice evening, Ian. I’m sorry. I have a lot on my plate right now. Besides, I’m not the kind of woman men like you get involved with.”

  Before he could get out of the car to open her door, she fled. Within moments, she locked herself inside her home.

  What did she mean, men like me? He could still taste the hint of caramel and vanilla on his lips. She was running. From what? From him? She was keeping secrets. There was more than the tragic loss of her family.

  New mission—what happened to her? How can I fix this? He never gave up on anything he wanted. He wanted Cassie.

  Cassie slid down the wall inside her front door. “What have I done?” Her words came out in a teary gasp. “You like him.”

  Dragging herself to her feet, she performed her nighttime ritual. Assured every door and window were locked, and every closet and spare room were empty, she closed her bedroom door, turned on the bathroom light, and crawled into bed. Sleep didn’t come. Finally, at four, she threw on a sweatsuit and sneakers. She hoped a jog would settle her down.

  The blond man in the BMW parked four houses from her home, sank in the seat, unseen, when she jogged by.

  Chapter Four

  Wednesday, just before dawn, Ian paced in front of the multiple wall-mounted interactive screens watching Kieran and his tactical team moving in to rescue eight-year-old Susie Tanner.

  Three days earlier, the FBI failed in an attempt to meet a ransom demand. When Tate “Dictionary” Webster, operations manager of Chase Security DC, did the threat assessment, it was decided the skill and expertise necessary to bring her home would best be served by a team from the Eagle’s Talon.

  Chase Group, a global conglomerate Ian co-owned with Kieran, specialized in venture capital investments under the heading of Chase Ventures. Also, under the Chase Group umbrella was Chase Security, a major private protection contractor serving the security needs of corporations in the US and abroad. With branches in San Diego, Colorado, New York, DC, and London, it provided security system risk of breach assessment and personal security for high-value US citizen targets around the world. Chase Security was very particular in accepting clients. The ability to pay was never included in part of the selection process. The cases were assessed for their need and who the client was.

  The company’s technology department included CCTV monitoring, access control, and perimeter protection. Its thirty-five thousand employees worldwide netted a six-billion-dollar annual return.

  Eagle’s Talon was buried deep within Chase Security, its personnel all former special operators, who were required to maintain skills and fitness as though still enlisted. Domestically, their assignments included high-risk extrication, anything involving children, and assisting local law enforcement if requested. Internationally, its services were rendered in the name of national security for things the US government could not be officially connected to. “Professionalism and discretion” were the company’s motto.

  It only took Chase Group technicians one day to discover Susie’s whereabouts. In the command center, the live rescue attempt appeared in front of Ian on the center screen. “Com check.” He counted the clicks.

  The eight rescuers spent the next seven minutes in radio silence, jamming the power, securing the perimeter and, entering the home. In the process, seven men and women were taken into custody. Inside the six th
ousand-square-foot home, the team met very little resistance. Two women and two more guards were subdued and secured with gags and zip ties.

  Fanning out, they started to clear the house to search for Susie. During a room-by-room sweep, Kieran entered a large bedroom darkened by blackout curtains. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small figure dart under the bed.

  “Susie? We’re here to take you home.” There was no response.

  Pulling off his balaclava, he dropped to the floor and turned on his flashlight. When he shimmied under the bed, the beam of light focused on two sunken, frightened, saucer-shaped brown eyes.

  “Susie, my name is Kieran. I’m here to bring you to Mommy and Daddy.” His voice was gentle. The little girl curled tightly in a ball and tried to back away.

  She crawled toward him. The second she was in reach; he scooped the shaking child into his arms. After he wrapped her in a blanket, he picked the padlock attached to a cuff on her ankle and released her. “Package secure.”

  As the rising sun gave them a better view of her, Kieran covered her eyes to block out the bright light and performed a quick once-over. Dark circles hid beneath them; bruises discolored each wrist and ankle; needle marks dotted her upper arms, and her chapped lips were tinged blue. Every muscle in her chest and belly strained with each breath. Ian’s heart sank watching things unfold on Kieran’s body cam.

  Stationed just over a quarter mile away, medical transport was en route. As Martin and Kieran crested the bottom of the home’s brick steps, two large reinforced Navigators pulled up. The physician assistant, former Air Force pararescueman and Eagle’s Talon medic, Tucker “Friar” Hanlon, jumped out, and Martin moved to ride shotgun.

  “Susie, we need to get you checked out, make sure you’re okay. Sally is going to get checked out too.” Tucker examined the doll. “Darlin’, can you tell me if anything hurts?”