Any Way You Want It (Brand Clan #2)(33)

“Do you really believe that?”

“I do.” Zandra frowned. “Besides, if he really wants to have a relationship with me, he sure has a funny way of showing it.”

“What do you mean?” Lena asked, deftly picking up a piece of salmon sushi with her chopsticks and popping it into her mouth.

Zandra’s frown deepened. “Before he left for Abu Dhabi, he asked me to set him up with one of my escorts.”

Lena stared at her. “Are you serious?”

“Very.” Zandra stabbed at a green bean. “I couldn’t believe it. He’s never shown the slightest bit of interest in dating any of my girls. Why now?”

Lena smiled. “Maybe he’s trying to make you jealous.”

Zandra snorted. “As if.”

An intuitive gleam entered Lena’s eyes. “So you’re not jealous?”

“Of course not. Remington Brand is a grown man, and I’m a businesswoman. If he wants to go out with one of my escorts and he can afford to pay for the pleasure of her company, who am I to stop him? Am I baffled by his sudden interest in my girls? Of course. But am I jealous? Hell, no.”

“Well,” Lena drawled, “that poor legume on your plate might beg to differ.”

Following the direction of Lena’s amused gaze, Zandra saw that she’d totally pulverized the green bean with her fork. As an embarrassed flush crawled up her neck and spread across her face, Lena grinned knowingly.

“If that’s what you do to food when you’re not jealous...”

Zandra scowled, then reached for her glass and took a gulp of water. Needing something stronger, she signaled for the waiter. When he bustled over, she ordered a margarita, heavy on the tequila.

Lena watched her with amused sympathy. “If it bothers you this much for Remy to go out with one of the girls, why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“Because it doesn’t bother me,” Zandra stubbornly insisted.

Lena looked skeptical. “Doesn’t it?”

Zandra sniffed. “Not at all.”

And she knew just how to prove it.

*

Remy stared out the tinted passenger window of the armored vehicle transporting his clients to the secret location of their business meeting. His eyes were shaded by mirrored sunglasses as he watched the heavily trafficked streets of Abu Dhabi pass by. In deference to UAE etiquette for Westerners, he wore a dark business suit and impeccably polished loafers. The expensive cut of his jacket concealed his shoulder piece, a Sig Sauer reinforced by a KA-BAR knife hidden between his shoulder blades and a .45 strapped to an ankle holster, not to mention the MP5 machine gun stowed beneath his seat.

From the backseat of the vehicle, the Emirati businessmen spoke quietly in Arabic, their conversation peppered with fervent utterances of In’shallah, which meant “God willing.” Even if Remy hadn’t been fluent in Arabic, he would have sensed that his clients were nervous. Since forging a lucrative partnership with an American energy conglomerate, the four oil executives had received kidnapping and death threats from an underground group of highly trained religious extremists who opposed any alliance with Westerners. Not knowing whom to trust, the distraught businessmen had turned to outsiders for protection.

Remy glanced from the window when his driver suddenly swerved to avoid being clipped by an aggressive cabbie switching lanes. Swearing under his breath, Dutch ran a hand over his dreadlocks and muttered, “And I thought Chicagoans were lousy drivers.”

Remy chuckled, watching as the silver taxicab roared off down the busy street.

Just then his cell phone vibrated with an incoming text message. Keeping his gaze trained on the passing scenery, he reached inside his breast pocket and removed the phone.

His pulse thudded when he saw that the message was from Zandra.

It was brief, deliberately cryptic.





You’re all set. Sunday at 8.





A grim smile curved the edges of Remy’s mouth. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Zandra had capitulated to his demands. Without realizing it, she’d just cleared the way for him to investigate her beloved agency.

After agonizing over Keegan’s proposal, Remy had gone to Zandra’s apartment on Monday evening to warn her that she and her escorts were in the mayor’s crosshairs. But he’d gotten sidetracked when he found her with another man, and when they’d argued afterward, she’d seemed so troubled and vulnerable, he didn’t have the heart to cause her any more distress. By the time Keegan called him, he’d made his decision. Sealed his fate.

Dutch threw a glance at Remy, observing his grim expression. “Everything okay, Chief?”

“Yeah.” Tucking the phone back into his breast pocket, Remy resumed staring out the window.

Even in the peaceful emirate of Abu Dhabi, he and his entourage faced the threat of ambush and violence from heavily armed zealots.

But Remy wasn’t concerned.

This assignment would be a cakewalk compared to the unpleasant task that awaited him at home.





Chapter Nine

When Zandra first opened Elite For You Companions, a trusted mentor had advised her to keep her escorts apart to prevent them from competing with one another or comparing notes. She was told horror stories of shady escorts skimming profits and colluding to steal clients to start their own agencies.