Page 29 of Spring Break with a Bodyguard
When I slip into the supply closet, Teddy is already there, looking nervous.
“What happened?” she whispers as soon as I close the door. “I saw everyone going into Roberts’ office.”
I explain the situation—how Roberts spun our trap as a frame-up attempt, my improvised cover story about a security test, and his thinly veiled threats.
“He suspects something,” I conclude. “Either about the investigation, about your identity, or both. We need to be extremely careful from here on out.”
Teddy processes this, her analytical mind clearly working through the implications. “But we confirmed what we suspected, right? Roberts is behind the thefts, using different staff members to collect items.”
“It appears that way,” I agree. “The question is, what’s his endgame? These thefts are relatively small-scale for someone in his position to risk his career over.”
“Unless they’re just the beginning,” Teddy muses. “Starting small to test the system before moving on to bigger targets.”
She has a point. Hotel managers have access to guest information, including credit cards, travel itineraries, and personal details. The jewelry thefts could be a test run for something much larger.
“We need to bring this to Preston,” I say reluctantly. “Roberts is escalating. It’s too risky to continue without backup.”
“But—”
“I know you wanted to handle this yourself,” I say as gently as I can, “but this has gone beyond a simple investigation. It’s too dangerous.”
Teddy’s expression falls, disappointment clear in her eyes. “You mean end my work here early? After everything I’ve worked for?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“One more day... please?” she says, determination hardening her features. “Give me one more day to gather concrete evidence against Roberts. Something Preston can take to the police without revealing how we discovered it.”
Every instinct tells me to refuse, to call Preston and extract Teddy from this escalating situation. My training screams that this is exactly how operations go sideways—extending beyond their parameters, ignoring clear warning signs.
“Teddy, it’s not worth the risk,” I argue. “Roberts is already suspicious. If he connects you to the planted jewelry?—”
“He won’t,” she insists, taking a step closer. “We’ll be smarter. More careful. Just one day, Javi. I can’t come this far and give up now.”
The look in her eyes—that perfect blend of determination, intelligence, and just a hint of stubbornness—makes it impossible to maintain my resolve.
“One day,” I concede, knowing I’m probably making a massive tactical error. “But we do it my way, with proper safeguards. And at the first sign of real danger, we abort. No arguments, no extensions. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” she says, relief evident in her voice. Then, catching me off guard, she rises on tiptoes and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “Thank you for believing in me.”
The simple gesture ignites something in me that overrides all my professional restraint. Before she can pull away, my hand slides to the back of her neck, drawing her closer as I return her kiss with one of my own—deeper, more demanding, breaking every rule of professional conduct I’ve ever followed.
I back her against the shelves of cleaning supplies, feeling her surprise melt into something else as her hands grip the front of my uniform.
“Don’t make me regret this, Teddy,” I murmur as I pull away and rest my forehead against hers.
“I won’t,” she whispers, her gaze holding mine.
It takes every ounce of discipline to step back, to create the necessary distance between us in this cramped closet that suddenly feels far too small.
“You’re welcome,” I manage, trying to regain my professional composure despite the racing of my pulse. “But you’re still following my security protocols.”
“Yes, sir, Commander Conrad,” she teases, giving me a mock salute, though her flushed cheeks and bright eyes betray the effect of our kiss.
Despite the seriousness of our situation, I find myself fighting a grin. Only Teddy could make a high-risk undercover operation in a spring break hotel feel like an adventure rather than a potential disaster.
“One day,” I repeat, more to remind myself than her. “Let’s make it count.”
NINE
