Any Way You Want It (Brand Clan #2)(45)

As Remy walked to his desk and sat down, Duke drawled lazily, “What’s up, Chief?”

“I have an assignment for you.” Remy slid a folder across the desk to Duke, who picked it up and opened it. “I need you to go undercover as Jonah Spanier, a wealthy financier from California. You just relocated to Chicago, so you gotta lose the accent.”

Duke frowned. “What accent?”

Remy snorted out a laugh. He was a native Chicagoan, and even he thought Duke had the thickest damn accent he’d ever heard. He dropped consonants and flattened vowels so hard that words like “hockey” and “socks” became “hackey” and “sacks.”

Remy shook his head at him. “Just lose it, all right?”

“If you insist.” Duke perused the contents of the folder. “So let me get this straight. You want me to investigate an escort agency?”

Remy nodded, guilt gnawing his insides.

Duke frowned. “With all due respect, I didn’t realize this is the kind of undercover work we’re doing here.”

“It’s not,” Remy grimly admitted. “This is more of a...personal favor.”

Duke studied him, blue eyes narrowed with speculation.

Remy offered no more.

“There’s a lot of information here,” Duke noted, holding up the folder. “Can’t I just call up the agency and ask for a girl?”

Remy grimaced. “It’s not that simple. The owner runs background checks on all prospective clients.”

Duke raised a brow. “Suspicious much?”

“Smart. Very smart. That’s why she’s the best in the business, and her escorts are first-rate.”

“Yeah?” Duke suddenly looked interested. “How first-rate?”

Remy sketched an hourglass with his hands, kissed his fingertips. “Bellissima.”

Duke grinned. “This is sounding better and better. How many girls are there?”

“Nine.” Zandra hadn’t found a replacement for Lena yet.

Duke’s eyes widened. “You want me to go out with nine different women?”

Remy cocked an amused brow. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” Duke drawled, grinning wickedly. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

Remy chuckled. He knew that Duke, like any Navy SEAL, had enjoyed his fair share of attention from groupies—aka frog hogs—who hung around military bases and bars hoping to pick up a SEAL. Remy wasn’t particularly proud of the fact that he’d woken up many mornings neck-deep in tits and asses after a wild threesome or, on occasion, foursome.

“How am I gonna explain wanting to go out with all of the escorts?” Duke asked.

“When you set up the date,” Remy explained, “you’re going to be asked some interview questions. Just explain that you’re new in town, looking to meet new people and make new friends. And hint that you’re tired of being a bachelor, and you’re thinking about settling down.”

Duke raised a brow. “You’re telling me to make them think that I’m auditioning for a wife?”

“Basically.” Remy smiled wryly. “Believe me, they’ve heard everything under the sun. And when you’ve got moronic reality shows on television, it’s not a stretch for anyone to believe that a rich, good-looking guy would want to test-drive a bunch of women to find his soul mate.”

Duke chuckled, rubbing his stubble-roughened jaw. “But what if the girls talk and compare notes?”

Remy grinned. “Then I guess you’d better give them something good to talk about. But not too good,” he added warningly. “You’re not supposed to get laid, Gannon. You’re going undercover to see if any of the escorts will try to have sex with you.”

Duke made a face, shaking his head. “It’s really gonna f*ck up my ego if none of them do.”

“I’m hoping they won’t,” Remy said grimly.

His date with Noelani had produced mixed results. It was clear that she’d been attracted to him. What wasn’t clear was whether she’d have allowed things to go further if he didn’t have feelings for Zandra.

Duke frowned at him. “Why me? Why did I get stuck with this job?”

Remy grinned. “Have you seen some of the other men who work for me? Rough-looking motherf*ckers who’d probably scare the bejesus out of those poor girls. Sorry, but you’re the only pretty face I’ve got around here.”

Duke scowled. “Gee, thanks.”

“Hey, don’t blame me. Blame genetics.”

Duke glowered another moment, then heaved a resigned breath and muttered, “Fuck it. You wanna pay me to go out on dates with a bunch of hot chicks? Suit yourself.”

“Your gratitude is overwhelming,” Remy said dryly.

Duke gave him the finger, and Remy laughed. Working with these men was almost like being part of a platoon again.

As Duke rose to leave, Remy told him, “Do a good job on this one, and I’ll put you on the Norwegian op.”

Duke’s eyes sparked with interest. “Norwegian?”

Remy nodded. “Hot extract. Off the grid. We’ll take a submarine to get there.”

Duke’s face lit up, as Remy had expected. Uncle Sam may have declared him unfit for duty, but Duke was a warrior. Once a warrior, always a warrior.