Against the Odds (33 page)

Author’s Note

I
hope you enjoyed Alex and Sabrina in
Against the Odds.
They were characters I hated
to leave when the book was over. I’m thrilled to tell you there are more books
in the
Raines of Wind Canyon
series to come. In
Against the Edge,
Ben Slocum goes on the hunt
for the son he never knew he had, and along the way meets a woman he just can’t
resist. Then back to Los Angeles for
Against the
Mark,
where Johnnie Riggs’s friend, former marine Tyler Brodie,
searches for a killer and finds a woman who perfectly suits him.

If you haven’t read the first books in the series, look for the
Raines brothers in
Against the Wind, Against the
Fire
and
Against the Law,
as well as
Trace Rawlin’s story,
Against the Storm,
Johnnie
Riggs in
Against the Night,
and Jake Cantrell’s
adventures in
Against the Sun.

Until then, very best wishes and happy reading.

Kat

The Raines of Wind Canyon Series

Intrigue. Romance. Suspense. Kat Martin’s
New York Times
bestselling series delivers it all.
These
unforgettable stories are available wherever ebooks are sold!

Against the Wind
Against the
Fire
Against the Law
Against the Storm
Against the
Night
Against the Sun

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One

Middle East Unrest Travels to Houston
One
Dead in Protests.

J
ake Cantrell turned off the engine of his
Jeep and glanced over at the front page of the
Houston
Chronicle
lying on the passenger seat. The headline
in the morning paper was a reminder of why he was there, parked in front of the
mirrored-glass, fourteen-story Marine Drilling International building.

It was still hot as Hades today, the first of September, the
sun and humidity baking him in his navy blue suit and white shirt as he strode
toward the wide concrete steps leading up to the front doors. The clothes were
the worst part of a protection detail—wearing a jacket and tie instead of the
jeans and T-shirts he lived in most of the time. But the pay was top-notch and
he’d been getting more and more restless sitting behind a desk at Atlas
Security, handling the day-to-day management of the company while the owner, his
best friend, Trace Rawlins, and Trace’s wife, Maggie, were off on an extended
honeymoon in Australia.

Jake was damn glad they were finally home.

Pushing through the heavy glass doors, he entered the lobby,
icy-cold in comparison to the wet heat outside. He headed for the bank of
elevators and stepped inside one, pushed the button for the twelfth floor, then
waited through the ride to the executive level.

The time hands on his heavy steel wristwatch said he was a few
minutes early for his ten o’clock appointment with Ian Dumont, the founder of
Marine Drilling, CEO and chairman of the board. The family-owned business,
originally Dumont Drilling, had been in oil production since the fifties, when
Ian had made his first big strike along the Gulf Coast.

Today, they were mostly in offshore oil and gas production,
thus the name change to Marine Drilling International. The Dumont family was
well-known in Houston society, with big money and everything that went with
it.

Walking out of the elevator, he made his way across shiny black
granite floor to the reception desk, where his shoes sank into thick gray
carpet. The waiting area was all black leather sofas and chairs, the desk itself
smooth dark walnut and chrome. Nothing but the best for the Dumonts.

A good-looking woman in her late twenties with wavy,
shoulder-length, mink-brown hair was busily searching the drawers and cabinets
behind the desk. The way she bent over in her tailored pencil skirt provided him
with a perfect view of a very shapely ass.

He almost smiled.

Even the help was first-class.

She jerked upright at his approach, noticing him for the first
time, and her face colored. It was a pretty face with amazing golden-brown eyes
that looked him up and down, which took a while, Jake being six-five, two
hundred thrty-five pounds.

“May I help you?” she asked.

He gave her a smile. “I’m Jake Cantrell. I’ve got an
appointment at ten with Ian Dumont.”

She frowned, looked down at the computer screen on the desk,
but apparently didn’t see his name. “He didn’t mention it. He’s getting ready
for another meeting. You might have to wait awhile.”

“Not a problem. In the meantime, I could sure use a cup of
coffee.”

Amusement tipped her mouth up, making a tiny dimple appear next
to those plump, rose-colored lips. He could see the curves beneath her tailored
suit, suggesting her breasts were just the right size, and her waist was
small.

Jake’s groin tightened. Which surprised him, since he needed
the coffee to recover from the night he’d spent with Deanna Leblanc, an old
flame who was in Houston to film a TV commercial.

The receptionist cast him a look. “I’ll see what I can do.” But
she didn’t make a move, just turned to the woman hurrying toward her across the
waiting room.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I’m late, Ms. Dumont,” the newcomer said.

Son of a bitch. A Dumont,
Jake
thought. Asking her to fetch him a cup of coffee was probably not the best idea
he’d ever had.

“Is Paulo all right?” the Dumont woman asked.

“My son wasn’t driving, thank God.” The real receptionist,
attractive and in her mid-forties, had straight black hair pulled back in a bun
and smooth, olive skin. “Paulo has a concussion and a couple of fractured ribs,
but it looks like he’s going to be okay. Thank you for covering while I was
gone.”

“Your boy was in a car accident, Marie. It wasn’t a problem.
I’m just glad he’s going to be all right.” The Dumont woman tipped her head
toward Jake, her soft mahogany curls sliding around her shoulders, making the
muscles across his abdomen clench.

“Mr. Cantrell is here to see Ian,” she said. “I have to get to
the meeting. Could you fetch him a cup of coffee while he waits?”

Jake felt the slight rebuke in the glance she cast his way.
Clearly, she wasn’t used to fetching a man much of anything.

“Of course,” Marie said. Ms. Dumont walked away, heading for
the tall walnut door leading into Ian Dumont’s imperial domain. Her strides were
long and purposeful, Jake noticed, as if she had someplace important to go. He
liked a woman who didn’t dawdle. And his earlier assessment was right—she had a
great ass and a pair of legs that wouldn’t quit. She was only about five-six,
but her expensive spike heels pushed her somewhere close to six feet.

He watched her disappear behind the door, wondering what role
she played in the Dumont empire, then turned his attention to the
receptionist.

Marie was smiling. “Mr. Cantrell?”

“That’s right.”

“Mr. Dumont mentioned yesterday that you would be coming in
this morning. I believe he wants to see you as soon as you arrive.” She
indicated the office door. “I’ll bring coffee for everyone into the
meeting.”

“Thank you, Marie.”

The woman blushed as Jake turned and walked away. It was his
size mostly, he figured, that made women take a second look. He was used to it
by now.

He swung open the walnut door and stepped inside, finding only
two people in the room—the woman he had subtly insulted and a silver-haired
gentleman in his late seventies, slightly stooped but still impressive,
undoubtedly Ian Dumont.

“Mr. Cantrell, I assume,” the man said. “Our mutual friend,
Trace Rawlins, had nothing but good things to say when he recommended you for
this job.” Trace knew Ian well. He’d recently helped design the state-of-the-art
alarm system for Marine Drilling when the building was renovated. “Please join
us.”

The Dumont woman was staring, one of her dark eyebrows slightly
elevated in question. He noticed she was wearing a flashy diamond engagement
ring. Since he felt a jolt of heat whenever he looked at her, it was probably
good she was out of his reach.

Ian Dumont walked the length of the long conference table to
greet him, reaching out to shake his hand—a strong, solid handshake that set the
tone for the discussion ahead. He’d once had calluses on those hands, Jake
figured.

“Why don’t we all sit down?” the CEO suggested.

They grouped themselves at one end of the table, which was done
in the same walnut and chrome as the waiting area. Wide plate-glass windows
looked down on the city streets, and modern artwork in bold bright colors lined
the inner walls.

The door swung open and Marie walked in with a silver coffee
service. She set the tray down on the table and poured each of them a cup.

“Thank you, Marie,” Ian said as she quietly headed back out the
door. He fixed his attention on Jake. “I asked you here today to discuss
providing security for one of our people during an upcoming business
negotiation.”

“Right. An S. E. Dumont, you said, when we spoke on the
phone.”

“That is correct.”

“Wait a minute,” the woman interrupted, her gaze sliding toward
Jake. “Ian, you aren’t thinking—”

“Mr. Cantrell, I’d like you to meet my granddaughter, Sage
Elizabeth Dumont.”

The room fell silent. Son of a bitch.
She
was his assignment?

“I don’t need a bodyguard, Ian.”

The older man turned toward her, a determined glint in eyes
that looked strikingly similar to the flashing, gold-ringed brown ones belonging
to his granddaughter.

“This man has experience in Middle Eastern protocol as well as
a background in personal security. Isn’t that correct, Mr. Cantrell?”

“This is a business transaction,” Sage argued. “I’m not in any
sort of danger.”

Both men ignored her. “Over the years, I’ve done a lot of
corporate protection work, both in South America and the Middle East,” Jake
said. “I worked in Saudi Arabia for three years after I got out of the marines.
So yes, I’m familiar with the protocols.”

“I understand you were in Special Forces. You served in Iraq, I
believe?”

“That’s right.” Ian Dumont had done his homework.

“Sage is vice president of acquisitions and distribution for
Marine Drilling. Currently she is involved in a transaction that may reach the
three-hundred-million-dollar mark, a deal being negotiated with Sheik Khalid Al
Kahzaz of Saudi Arabia. The sheik and his family are due to arrive in just a few
days.”

“I see,” Jake said noncommittally. Protecting a corporate
executive was one thing. Protecting a young socialite who got her job because
she was a member of the Dumont family was something altogether different.

“With your experience,” Ian continued, as Jake took a sip of
his coffee, “I’m hoping you will be able to guide my granddaughter through this
visit with our Saudi friends, and should any trouble arise, also keep her
safe.”

“That’s what I get paid for.”

Sage shifted in her chair, irritation clear in her face. “We
need to discuss this in private, Ian.”

The old man smiled indulgently. “We can do that, of course, but
the result will be the same. You’re representing Marine Drilling International.
You will be prominently engaged in entertaining the sheik, his daughter and son,
and the remainder of his party. The unrest in their part of the world has
reached all the way to our city. A man was killed in a Middle Eastern
prodemocracy demonstration last night.”

“That was an accident,” Sage protested. “He was hit by a
car.”

“The police are still investigating. They’re not completely
certain what actually happened. And even if it was an accident, tempers are
running hot on all fronts. Your safety is vitally important to me. Mr. Cantrell
will make certain you are safe.”

“But—”

“It will only be during the day, for as long as the sheik is
here, or when you are somewhere entertaining him and his family. Along with
that, there are things you need to know that Mr. Cantrell can teach you.”

Her shoulders tightened. “I understand there are business
protocols, things I need to be aware of. I planned to research the subject. I’ve
just been so busy… .”

“You work too hard, my dear. You need someone to help you. Mr.
Cantrell can handle that.” Her grandfather rose from his chair and turned to
Jake when he stood up, too. “When can you start?”

Part of him wanted to refuse the assignment. Jake didn’t want
to deal with a bossy, cantankerous female. The other part was looking for
something interesting to do after weeks of mostly sitting behind a desk. And
keeping a pampered young woman like Sage Dumont out of trouble probably wouldn’t
be dull.

“If we have only a short time before they arrive,” he found
himself saying, “we had better get started today.”

“Splendid!” Ian said.

Sage’s spine went a little straighter. She fixed her gaze on
Jake. Even in her high heels she had to look up at him, which he could tell she
didn’t like.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see you in my office in half an hour.
Does that work for you?”

“I’ll be there.”

And then she was gone.

As soon as the door swooshed shut behind her, Jake heard Ian
chuckle. “I knew she was going to pitch a fit about this—actually, I expected
far worse. But I want her safe. She means everything to me, Mr. Cantrell.”

“It’s just Jake. And you can count on me to take care of
her—whether she likes it or not.”

* * *

Sage marched into her office and slammed the door.
A bodyguard.
It was ridiculous. She couldn’t believe
her grandfather would go to such extremes. The sheik and his family would be
bringing their own security people. And the police had been officially notified
of the visit. There was nothing for her grandfather to worry about.

Still, she knew how much he loved her. And Sage loved him.

She sighed as she walked to her desk. Ian Dumont had raised her
since she was twelve years old. She respected him more than any other man she’d
ever known.

She thought of the towering hulk who had asked her to bring him
some coffee. Typical chauvinist. Marine Special Forces. Served in Iraq. The guy
was all male, no doubt of that. She hadn’t missed the hot gleam in his eyes when
she’d caught him watching her bent over at the reception desk.

She refused to acknowledge the jolt of awareness that had
slipped through her when she first saw him standing there. For heaven sake, who
wouldn’t notice a man who looked like that? The Terminator—only bigger and
better looking. Dark brown, neatly trimmed hair, and those eyes. Light blue and
beautiful.

Still, muscle jocks and ex-soldiers were hardly her type and
even if she found this one attractive, she was engaged to be married. Her
fiancé, Phillip Stanton, was vice president of their North Sea drilling
operation. He was a few years older than Sage, handsome and sophisticated, from
one of the best families in Houston. Exactly the sort of man she had always
hoped to marry.

Sage looked up at the clock on the wall. Cantrell would be here
soon. When a soft knock sounded, she was sure he’d arrived a few minutes early,
but when the door swung open, it wasn’t him. Her best friend, Sabrina Eckhart,
swept into the office. Red-haired and feisty, and currently dating a brilliant
computer geek, Rina was a successful stockbroker who earned a very good living
though the market was shooting up and down like an out-of-control fire hose.