Her brow furrowed. “Not that I know of. I’ll put a call into the security firm.”
“No, I’ll call them. From now until the convention is over and the foreign dignitaries have departed, the security firm will be reporting directly to me.”
“No way. I’m not having some stranger I know nothing about circumvent all the planning I’ve put into this event.” Fiona pulled out her cell phone and scrolled through her contact list and then hit a number. As she raised the phone to her ear, her eyes narrowed. “As soon as I clear this up, you will no longer need a room and you can crawl back under whatever rock you came out of.”
Wyatt shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels. He knew what the answer would be before Fiona said hello.
His commander had specifically stated that he was directed to provide one of his best men to head up the security. His commander’s orders came straight from the Pentagon. Probably from the same place Fiona was now calling.
Fiona turned, walked a few steps away and stood with her back to him, her voice low and determined. “You have to be kidding. This was not in my contract,” she was saying.
A grin slipped across Wyatt’s lips.
“It is? Well, it must have been in the fine print, because I would not have agreed to these conditions.” She listened for a moment, her body stiff, her hand squeezing the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. “How many of those do you get a day?” She nodded. “You do? And it came in this morning?” Fiona pushed her long red hair back from her forehead. “Fine. He can stay. But I won’t have him making a disaster of it. He will report to me every step of the way or you can find someone else to finish this event.” She clicked the end button. Her chest expanded as she sucked in a deep breath and then let it out before she turned.
“Was I right?” Wyatt queried.
“You know damn well you were.” She poked a finger at his chest. “If the FBI hadn’t received a report of a threat that came across their desk this morning specifically targeting the convention, I’d send you packing. Unfortunately, the Pentagon trusts that you’re the man for the job.” She snorted. “Not that I fathom why. But you report to me. Don’t make a single change without consulting with me first.”
He tried to school the smile from his face as he raised his index finger. “I’d like to suggest change number one.”
Fiona rolled her eyes and clamped her jaw tight. “Go on.”
“I’d like to bring in bomb-sniffing dogs to sweep the convention center tomorrow, first thing, before any conventioneers arrive.”
“And how do you propose to bring on enough dogs to perform this sweep on such short notice? This convention took months of planning.”
Wyatt’s grin widened. “I have a buddy who runs a dog training business here in San Antonio. He has search and rescue, protection, drug control and bomb-sniffing dogs available in his kennel.” At the skeptical frown on her forehead. “He owes me a favor.”
He’d saved Joseph Goodman from a burning vehicle when their convoy had come under attack by Taliban in Afghanistan. His vehicle had taken a direct hit and crashed into a wall. Joseph suffered compound fractures in both legs and burns on his arms. If Wyatt hadn’t been there to pull him out, he’d have died in the fire. As it was, Joe’s legs would never be the same and he walked with a limp. He’d spent weeks at SAMC’s burn center for the burns on his hands and arms. The military had medically retired him and he had nothing to look forward to. No job, no home, no purpose in life.
Deep in depression, he had no motivation to recover. Once the external wounds healed, he’d gone to a rehab facility. He’d been there when a local organization that specialized in training dogs for service had come through. The handler brought with her a golden retriever, trained to provide comfort to soldiers with PTSD. One touch and Joe had known what he wanted to do.
It still choked up Wyatt to think about Joe’s recovery. He’d been in the depths of depression when he’d been laid up in the hospital. More than anything, he’d wanted to get back to the fight, to defend his brothers in arms. Yet, here he was, safe on American soil, away from the turbulence of war, the uncertainty of each day. Kind of like Wyatt. Only Joe had found a purpose.
“Fine.” Fiona’s word cut through his memories like a knife, bisecting the real world from the past. “Get the dogs. I’ll figure out how to pay for them. But I’m warning you, I don’t have much wiggle-room. The catering and convention center costs took up most of my funds.”
“I’m sure he’ll give me the best deal he can.”
“Good, and while you’re at it, see if he can put you up at night. I need that room more than you do.”
Wyatt shook his head. “Sorry. As the man in charge of the security of this convention, I need to be as close to the convention center as possible.”
“Fine. My assistant is working on it. She’ll come up with a room for you somewhere close by.”
“And where are the majority of the high-powered delegates staying?”
Her brows puckered. “Here.”
“Aren’t you having a social event here?”
She nodded.
“Exactly. Security is not all about the convention center.”
“I can’t be expected to provide security for every one of the participants.”
“No, but if the most politically inclined are staying at this hotel, I need to be here to ensure everything that can be reasonably done is being done.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, the frown deepening.
Wyatt could almost see the gears turning in her brain.
“Let’s talk to the front desk again. Surely by now, they’ll have a cancellation.”
They exited the lounge and returned to the reception desk where a crowd had gathered. Ten men in business suits, an equal number of police officers and the hotel manager stood in front of the desk. One police officer stood with a clipboard, questioning one of the men in a business suit. He spoke Spanish and wrote as the man in the suit fired words back at him.
Fiona pushed through the crowd to the manager, Wyatt on her heels.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Oh dear, Ms. Allen.” He nodded toward the man speaking Spanish. “Jesus Rodriguez, the political delegate from Columbia, was on the way from the airport to the hotel when someone shot as his limousine.”
“What?” Fiona exclaimed. “Who? Where?”
“That’s why the police are here. They’re taking his statement.”
Wyatt suspected that the shot taken at the limousine was some dumbass taking a pot shot at the pretty, expensive car. But was it more than that? Was this the reason he’d been called in to head up the security? The piece of cake job might be more interesting than he first thought.
The manager gave Fiona an apologetic look. “By the way, I had a cancellation.”
Fiona’s face brightened. “That’s great.”
Wyatt didn’t think it was. In fact, he was somewhat disappointed at the news.
“Ms. Allen, Mr. Rodriguez is demanding a room for the additional bodyguard he wants on the premises to protect him while he’s here. What do you want me to do?”
Wyatt choked back a chuckle. The redhead couldn’t win. “Give him the room,” he whispered near her ear.
“What, and let you have our room?” She chewed her lip some more. “It’s even more important for me to be in the same hotel. I need to be where the high-profile delegates are staying.”
“Same here,” Wyatt said. “Even more so.” He crossed his arms. “How about this…we share the room—” He raised his hand when she started to open her mouth. “Hear me out, please.”
“Fine. Talk. But make it quick. The manager needs to find you a room.”
“I’ll bet they have a rollaway cot we can put in the room. I can sleep on the cot—I’ve slept on worse—you can have the bed and we can take turns in the shower.”