Heiress Recon. Carla Cassidy

already had some vandalism and threats from people who don’t want to see retail stores in the middle of farmland.

      “There’s a meeting planned for Wednesday night, a meeting at which I hope we’re going to mend some fences. I’m offering some concessions to the residents that I hope will move things forward, but in the meantime it all has suddenly gotten particularly ugly.”

      He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a manila envelope. “I received this at my home this morning.” His thick fingers shoved the envelope toward Troy. “Go on, open it.”

      Reluctantly Troy unfastened the flap and pulled out the contents. There were a total of five photos cut from a popular tabloid. Each depicted the lovely Brianna Waverly doing what wealthy heiresses do best—going into a popular club, getting out of a limo, sipping a cocktail and sticking out her tongue at a photographer.

      The only thing remarkable about the photos was the stunning beauty of the woman and the bright red, angry X slashed through each one. There was no doubt that the pictures were intended as some sort of threat.

      The photo captions were as provocative as the woman. MIDWEST HEIRESS DRINKS UNTIL DAWN. BEAUTIFUL BREE AND HER BODYGUARD. WAVERLY HEIRESS WALKS THE WILD SIDE.

      Troy felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Isn’t your daughter in California? That’s a long way from your problems here.”

      Brandon pulled yet another tabloid from his top drawer. Troy stared at the headline. BEAUTIFUL BREE ATTACKED, BODYGUARD STABBED.

      “This happened two nights ago at a club called Oscar’s. Curt, Brianna’s bodyguard, was stabbed but the intended victim was Brianna. He’s still in the hospital and doing just fine. Meanwhile Brianna is arriving here in town this afternoon for a two-week visit,” Brandon replied with a frown. “I’m afraid somebody went after her to get to me, and I’m worried about her being here unprotected. Please, Troy. I’m begging you as a friend of your father’s, as one ex-Navy brother to another.”

      Troy sighed. He didn’t want to do this, but he knew he was going to, because Brandon was an old family friend and because he’d served his country with distinction years ago as a Navy seaman. As an ex-Navy SEAL, Troy couldn’t turn his back on the man.

      “How exactly is this going to work?” he finally asked, ignoring the gut instinct that told him he was about to make a huge mistake.

      THE MEETING LASTED for another hour, then Troy left the downtown Waverly offices and headed to the north side of town where his company, Recovery Inc., was located.

      The early September air still held the heat of summer, but he scarcely noticed the temperature as his head whirled with everything Brandon had asked of him. Brandon Waverly hadn’t lost his mind, but obviously Troy had when he’d agreed to be a part of the madness.

      The Recovery Inc. office was housed in a strip mall, flanked by a pizza place on one side and a beauty shop on the other.

      Boredom, he thought as he drove. That’s part of what had driven him to agree. Business had been slow the last month after some bad publicity had been generated from a mess his partner, Micah Stone, had gotten into. The mess had been cleaned up, and Micah had found the love of his life, but the residual effect had been that things had been far too quiet the last couple of weeks.

      He thought of the photos he’d just seen of Brianna Waverly. There was no question that she was beautiful, but she reminded him of somebody from his past and those memories were ones he rarely visited because they hurt too much.

      If he was lucky, one of his partners would talk him into calling Brandon and telling him he’d changed his mind. He parked in front of the business, a surge of pride swelling in his chest as he saw the discreet sign that read Recovery Inc.

      Three years ago when he and two of his Navy SEAL buddies had opened the business, they’d never dreamed of how successful they’d become. For Troy the success was particularly welcome because he’d done it on his own, without his family money.

      As he entered the office he found Micah and Lucas in their usual places—Lucas sprawled on the tasteful sofa, and Micah reared back in the chair at his desk.

      “I see you’re both hard at work,” he said dryly.

      Lucas sat up and stretched with arms overhead, the motion tugging his T-shirt up to expose his flat, tanned abdomen. “I might look like I’m half-asleep, but actually my mind is whirling to solve all the world’s problems.”

      Micah snorted. “Yeah, and occasionally for the last hour or so, I’ve actually heard the snoring sounds his mind makes when it works.”

      Troy grinned and walked across the room to his desk. “I just left Brandon Waverly’s office, and he has a job for me,” he said.

      “I hope it’s something exciting,” Lucas replied.

      “It’s a one-man job. He wants me to take his daughter, Brianna, and put her someplace safe for a couple of days.”

      Micah frowned. “Brianna Waverly. Isn’t that Bree Waverly?”

      Troy nodded and Lucas released a low whistle. “That is one hot woman.”

      “Yeah, if shallow and plastic is your type,” Troy replied. He told them everything that Brandon had said and about the clippings the man had received earlier that morning.

      “How does he know it isn’t some garden-variety California freak who sent the clippings and tried to get to her in the club?” Micah asked. “Any creep might have developed some kind of fixation on Bree Waverly. It happens all the time in Hollyweird.”

      “Brandon seems fairly certain that the threats are directed at him because of the shopping mall project he’s involved with at the moment.” Troy leaned back in his chair, wishing one of them would tell him the whole idea was stupid. “But he thinks they’ll try to hurt his daughter to get at him.”

      “There’s always the safe house,” Micah suggested. “You could take her there.” The safe house was a farmhouse north of the city proper that the company owned to be used for just these kinds of jobs.

      “Or if you want to get her out of town, I’ve got that little fishing cabin south of here. It would be a perfect place to stash her for a few days,” Lucas said. “I haven’t been there this year so the windows are boarded up and it’s probably dusty as hell. You know it’s close quarters, and it’s sure nothing fancy.”

      That was an understatement. In truth the cabin was downright rustic. A woman like Bree Waverly, who was accustomed to the finest things and the world revolving around her axis, would probably take one look around and break out in hives.

      Troy wasn’t sure why that particular thought gave him a bit of pleasure.

      Lucas shrugged. “Compared to some of the jobs we’ve had, this sounds easy enough. All he’s asking of you is that you be a glorified babysitter for a couple of days.”

      Lucas was right. It sounded easy enough. So why were all of Troy’s instincts screaming at him to run as far away as fast as possible from this particular job?

      BRIANNA WAVERLY was happy to be home. Even though she’d lived in Hollywood for the past six years, Kansas City, Missouri, was the place she thought of as home, and after the events of the last couple of days, she was even happier to be here.

      There were times when it was hard for her to believe that the daughter of a Kansas City developer had become a “name” in Hollywood. All it had taken was her showing up at some of the hot spots and catching the eyes of several paparazzi. Suddenly her pictures had been in the tabloids and the girl from Kansas City was a star.

      She stood in front of the full-length mirror in her childhood bedroom to check her appearance one last time before going downstairs for dinner.

      She would have preferred a quiet evening spent with just her father and her stepmother, Heather. But the minute Brianna had walked through the front door, Heather had informed