Accidental Bodyguard Read Online Free Page B

there? Writing a book?
    He didn’t have access to the feed from any security cameras inside the compound. If they were even turned on.
    He’d expected Santaluce to arrive on the island by now. So far that hadn’t occurred, although Santaluce’s assistant phoned to confirm Ms. Clark had moved in. When Jack had inquired about the arrival of the villa’s owner, he’d been informed that information was on a need-to-know basis, as if Santaluce was part of some covert op.
    No question something funky was going on, and as the security director he needed to know what.
    So where had Ms. Clark lived before arriving on Collins Island?
    Jack booted up the computer. Every visitor had to provide proof of identity to board the ferry, and the guard always scanned that ID into a database. Curious about what he’d find, he clicked the file for the date of her arrival. When her driver’s license appeared on the screen, he zoomed in.
    The address was in the southwest part of Miami-Dade County, a settled, middle-class area, full of homes that held their value even through the recession. So why the junker car?
    He placed the address into a search engine, and discovered it didn’t exist. He confirmed the digits to be sure he hadn’t made a mistake. He ran the address through Miami-Dade County’s database and got the same results.
    The address on her driver’s license was fake.
    Was the license itself?
    Jack studied the image. If it was a phony, it was a damn good one. Made by people who knew what they were doing. He needed the license itself to confirm its authenticity.
    Well, well, well. Jack leaned back in his chair, considering. His instincts had been right on, as usual. Ms. Clark wasn’t what she seemed. Did her appearance on Collins Island have something to do with Mr. Santaluce’s “questionable” business?
    Was she cooking meth behind the walls of Villa Alma? Or doing something else equally dangerous?
    He entered her name into a search engine and hundreds of results materialized. But Clark was as common as Smith. He narrowed the options to Florida, waded through them, but didn’t find the Louise Clark living in Santaluce’s cabana. So that likely wasn’t her real name, which explained the woman’s confusion when he’d first addressed her.
    He called Lola in the Alliance office.
    â€œYeah, Jack?” she answered in her throaty voice.
    â€œI’m going to email you a driver’s license. Run the image through our facial-recognition program and see if you get a hit.”
    â€œSomething going on?”
    â€œMaybe. I don’t know yet.” He hit the send button.
    â€œI know you’re bored, Jack, but don’t go looking under rocks for trouble.”
    â€œNoted.”
    After a pause, Lola said, “I’ve got it. Louise Clark. Isn’t this the new tenant?”
    â€œRight, but she doesn’t exist. Neither does the address.”
    â€œSo Santaluce has her under wraps. What’s she done?”
    â€œNothing, but my radar is lit up.”
    â€œOuch. Never a good sign,” Lola said, her tone now serious. “I’ll let you know what I find.”
    Jack scrolled through the security feed until he got to the camera on the front of Villa Alma and froze the image. No sign of the new tenant. What was going on behind that imposing gate? He decided to pay a little visit and see what response he got from the lovely Louise.
    When he arrived at Villa Alma, he exited the golf cart and rang the delivery bell, staring up into the security camera. After a few moments he heard a breathy “Yes?” on the intercom.
    â€œMs. Clark?” he inquired.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIt’s Jackson Richards, Security Director.”
    â€œYes, Mr. Richards?” she responded, politely impatient.
    â€œJust a courtesy call to see if everything is all right.”
    â€œEverything is fine, Mr. Richards. Is there some