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It took nearly an hour, and several texted pictures from Favian, to get the right product selected and purchased, but by nine o’clock or so, he’d returned to the farmhouse armed with a playpen and a high chair.
Poppy was in full meltdown by the time he returned, and the big bad commandos wrestled through getting the playpen unpacked and set up while Chas gave her a bath, which she screamed through. Chas laid her down in the playpen, and she crashed immediately. Thank God.
He went downstairs, and Gunner handed him a glass of white wine in silence.
“Ahh, adult time,” Chas sighed in relief.
“Quite a set of lungs that kid has on her,” Spencer commented wryly.
Chas responded by draining his wine and holding out the glass for a refill. Gunner grinned and obliged.
“Ready to hear the plan we’ve put together?” Gunner asked him when he’d put a dent in the second glass of wine.
“So the wine wasn’t a reward for a good day’s parenting but rather a bribe to liquor me up before you tick me off?” he asked.
Gunner shrugged. “I’ve been taught to use every tool at my disposal to achieve my objectives.”
“Then you should have taken me to bed,” Chas snapped.
Spencer laughed behind him, and Chas whipped around, his face hot. Their host was kind enough not to tease him about it, however, and merely said mildly to Gunner, “I like this man.”
“Glad you approve,” Gunner grumbled.
Spencer said, “Dray and I are starting a small security firm and were thinking about hiring a few people we know and trust from our former government careers.” He added with a smile, “And once we get on our feet, the pay will be considerably better than Uncle Sam can offer.”
Gunner glanced over at Chas thoughtfully before saying, “Tell me more.”
Spencer and Gunner took off talking about the types of jobs they could do, and Drago came over to refill Chas’s wineglass to the brim.
“Are all of you in on the plot to get me drunk before you spring your plan on me?” Chas asked.
“Oh yeah,” Drago replied, grinning. “It’s actually part of the plan.”
Chas exhaled hard in disgust. “All right. Lay it on me. How dangerous is this plan of yours, and how likely am I to be maimed or killed?”
Chapter Thirteen
GUNNER POINTEDthe car to the west and accelerated away from the luxurious estate where Poppy was now safely installed. Charles Favian had called a woman he knew—a training officer with the CIA’s Special Operations Group—to come act as her temporary nanny and bodyguard. The SOG was generally considered to be among the best of the best in the Special Forces community.
It surprised him when a middle-aged woman had shown up at Spencer and Dray’s place and tartly informed Gunner that she had grown children of her own and was plenty old enough to be Poppy’s grandmother.
He’d been even more surprised when Spencer and Drago had driven them all out the front gate and directly across the street to another tall iron gate. The estate they’d wound back into had been so elegant, it was frightening.
Drago explained that the neighbors, Jessica and Gershom Brentwood, had hired their fledgling security firm to beef up their estate’s security, and that he and Spencer had turned the property into a virtual fortress. They couldn’t think of anywhere safer to put Poppy until the mess surrounding her was sorted out.
Gunner quizzed the security guards closely, and it turned out that Spencer and Drago had been running weekly exercises with them for several months, teaching them all kinds of advanced surveillance and security protocols.
“You’re sure Poppy will be safe?” Chas asked.
Gunner snorted. “Are you kidding? She has her own personal sniper for a nanny. Not to mention, the Brentwood home has every security bell and whistle money can buy, and their staff knows how to use it all. Besides, who’s gonna look for a missing kid at the estate of a stupidly rich, gray-haired hedge fund manager and his much younger trophy wife?”
“I hope you’re right,” Chas fretted.
“I’ll miss her too,” Gunner said quietly.
“Bet you never thought you’d say that in your lifetime.”
Gunner glanced over at Chas. “Nope.” He added reluctantly, “In the past week, I’ve been saying and doing a whole lot of shit I never thought I ever would.”