She was thrilled with her position at DreamMakers. It was an enormous change from her previous job, but she’d been working with the guys for long enough she was beginning to relax and enjoy her coworkers. Even joke with them a little, and not have it come back to bite her in the butt.
Gillian rechecked scheduling to see if anything else had been added, but this Saturday there was a very light load. Only the one job, and due to the nature of the setup, she didn’t even have a partner, at least not one onsite. She grabbed a headset and the rest of her supplies, checked her watch, then slipped out the back door, chuckling as she manned the security system.
Dean could be mean—she liked that about him.
Once she was in the car and headed to her destination she engaged the hands-free phone.
“Hey, Gillian. Ready to roll?” Parker greeted her. “You’re cutting it close, aren’t you?”
“I was being nice and giving you time to sleep in. Besides, we’re talking about a large gathering of women, boss. Women wearing swimsuits—that takes more prep than you think. No one is going to be there the moment the pool opens.”
“I’ll take your word on the timing, although I do know it’s a lady’s prerogative to be late.”
She smiled. “I really don’t know what you plan to do if I get in trouble. You’d never make it into the building today, not with the security in place and the ladies-only invitation.”
“Which is why you’re our point man, so to speak.” Parker’s deep voice grew firmer. “But trust me on this—if you need me, just shout and I’ll be there faster than you can say ‘crashing a bachelorette party’. I don’t leave my team behind.”
“It’s your ass that will end up in jail, but I appreciate the reassurance.” Earlier she’d glanced through the paperwork again to reacquaint herself with their target, and she’d been shocked to realize the level of clientele DreamMakers was associating with. “I can’t believe I’m stalking royalty.”
“Minor royalty,” Parker corrected. “But I don’t know why it’s that surprising. Clueless guys are clueless guys, no matter how many dollar signs go after their name.”
“Or how much landmass. Actually, I’m impressed the man is even bothering to try to figure out his fiancée. I thought most of those types with prearranged marriages didn’t care.”
Parker hummed his agreement. “He’s one of the good ones. Anyway, this is a rare chance to get close to her since she’s usually got security around twenty-four-seven—do your best, but don’t take chances.”
“What? And have our perfect record destroyed? I’ll get the deets we need,” she promised as she pulled into the parking lot of the massive recreation center. “I’m heading in now. As soon as I get my sunglasses in place I’ll have mic abilities again. Until then, over and out.”
“Roger that.”
Gillian grabbed her beach bag from the trunk, tucked her keys in their hiding place—never go anywhere without an escape plan—and made her way to the front entrance of the massive indoor waterpark. She flashed a smile at the security guards who were manning the doorway as she waved her invitation to what she’d been mentally calling the Princess Pool Party. “Which way to the pool?” she asked cheerfully.
A burly rent-a-cop stepped in her path. “I need to see some photo I.D.”
He didn’t budge until she reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. “If you wanted to get my name and phone number, all you had to do was ask,” she teased, her ditzy, non-threatening role-play slipping easily into place.
During her army days, she’d spent too much time in the field acting as the decoy, or using her wiles to access vantage points where she could line up her rifle on her target. No one ever suspected the simpering bubblehead. Getting people to trust her always made the job go smoother—and while she didn’t have the blonde hair, she could do the stereotypical blonde persona no problem.
Mr. Security was a hard nut to crack. His lips barely moved as he shoved back her driver’s license. “You’re clear to go in.”
Gillian resisted the urge to snap off a salute, instead making sure she walked away with lots of swing to her hips. His reflection showed up clearly in the doors as she approached, and sure enough, he’d turned to watch her.
She gloated a little.
The doors swung open as she reached for them, another set of suited and armed men letting her in and pointing her in the right direction.
Halfway down the hall she hauled out her sunglasses and turned on the tiny mic in the frame. “You totally could’ve gotten in here undercover. So far I’ve seen more men than women,” she muttered.
“Once you get past the pool doors it’ll be different.”
Gillian left her things in a locker, feeling a little naked since she’d left her firepower at the office, but not even she had figured out a way to hide a gun while wearing a bikini.
She slipped on an oversized shirt as a cover-up, left her long hair down, and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head.
“Moving out,” she informed Parker.