Colton's Secret Bodyguard

by Jane Godman

  It was almost noon when she became aware of raised voices coming from the lobby. Frowning, she headed in that direction. The last thing they needed was more trouble.

  “I demand to see Ms. Colton.” As David tried to reason with him, a man was shouting and waving a booklet in the security guard’s face.

  Before Bree could step forward from the gallery and into the lobby, Rylan came out of the promotions office with Papadum at his side. Taking in the scene at a glance, he gestured for her to stay where she was. Although she had a clear view of what was happening, she remained out of sight.

  “Why do you want to see Ms. Colton?” Rylan asked.

  “I need to talk to her about this.” The man threw the booklet down onto the reception desk. From where she was standing, Bree could see that it was the program Kasey had recently sent out containing details of the Spirit show. It had been mailed to all the gallery’s newsletter subscribers.

  As the irate visitor strained to get past David, Rylan stepped closer. His muscular build and air of authority worked in a way that David’s uniform hadn’t. The man sucked in an audible breath and took a half step back.

  “Right now, your body language and tone of voice aren’t going to get you anywhere near Ms. Colton.” Although Rylan spoke quietly, it was clear he meant business. “Now, how about you wind your temper back, then tell me what this is all about?”

  For a few seconds, the outcome hung in the balance as the guy looked like he couldn’t decide whether to swing a punch or walk out. After clenching and unclenching his fists at his side a few times, he pointed to the program he’d thrown down.

  “That...filth was in my mailbox. I have two young daughters who regularly collect my letters. They could have found this.”

  Filth? Bree was stunned. Wise Gal was family friendly. The gallery held art classes for kids, and every exhibit was carefully checked to ensure it met her high standards. There had been nothing offensive in that program.

  “Can you show me what you’re talking about?” Rylan asked.

  His cool manner appeared to be having an effect on the visitor. Calmer now, he reached for the program. From her vantage point, Bree saw him flick through booklet until he reached the middle pages. Holding it open, he drew out a loose piece of paper and handed it to Rylan. Bree could see it had color pictures printed on both sides, but she couldn’t make out the detail.

  Rylan studied both sides of the paper in silence. “And this was definitely inside the program you received from the gallery?”

  “Didn’t I just say that?”

  “I just needed to get the facts straight,” Rylan said. To anyone else, he was still in complete control. However, Bree, who was in tune with his reactions, could tell he was thinking fast. “One thing I’m certain about is that this—” he tapped a finger on the separate sheet of paper “—was not sent out by the Wise Gal Gallery.”

  The visitor was unconvinced. “It was inside the program. They were in the same envelope. The gallery stamp was on the back.”

  “I’m aware that you’re upset and, having seen these images, I can understand why. I know Ms. Colton will share my concern.” Rylan tucked the paper back into the program. “If you will leave this with me—”

  “Not a chance.” There was a pronounced sneer on the guy’s face. “I see what you’re trying to do. You take this away and I don’t hear from you again.”

  “Not at all.” Rylan leaned over the reception desk to get a pen and a piece of paper. “Write down your name and number and I’ll be in touch as soon as I’ve spoken to Ms. Colton. I know she’ll want to do something to apologize for the distress this has caused you and your family. Maybe a visit to The Chateau? A ski day for your kids?”

  After a few minutes, Rylan was shaking the guy’s hand and escorting him out of the building. As he left the lobby and came toward Bree, he was frowning.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Not here.”

  He kept on walking, and she matched his long strides, with Papadum trotting beside them. When they reached her office, he held open the door so that she could step inside before him.

  “This isn’t good.”

  “I figured that from what I overheard.” She held out a hand. “Can I see what was inside the program?”

  His lips twisted slightly. “It’s not pleasant.”

  She gave him a cold stare. “I have enough of this from my family. Don’t try and sugarcoat real life for me, Rylan. I’m a grown-up. I can deal with it.”

  “Sorry.” He handed over the program.

  Even though she’d given him the tough talk, Bree opened it tentatively. He was right. The insert had been cut to the same size and shape as the pages of the program. It even had the Wise Gal logo across the top. But the pictures it included were unlike anything Bree had ever exhibited. They were the worst kind of pornography, depicting a range of unsavory acts.

  “How...?” She looked up at Rylan in confusion.

  “How did that get inside your promotional program?” he asked. “That’s what I was going to ask you.”

  A tap on the door made them both turn in that direction. When Kasey stepped inside, her face was ashen. “Bree, I don’t know what’s been going on, but my phone has been ringing nonstop.”

  “Could it have anything to do with this?” Bree held up the insert.

  Kasey gasped as she looked at the images. “When the first few calls came in, I didn’t know what was going on. I’ve had sponsors calling to withdraw their support, customers canceling orders... Even the mayor has been on the phone.” She raised tear-filled eyes to Bree’s face. “I swear to you...those pictures were not in the programs when they came from the printer. I checked them myself.”

  “Did you check the programs again before you sent them out?” Bree asked.

  “No, I didn’t see any reason to do that...” Kasey looked from Bree to Rylan. “Why would someone do this? How did they do it?”

  “You forgot the key question,” Rylan said. “Who did this?”

  * * *

  By working nonstop for the next three hours, Bree, Kasey and the two receptionists had managed to contact most of the people on the gallery’s mailing list. It was a relief to learn that not all of the programs that had been sent out had contained the ghastly insert. Most of those they had spoken to had calmed down once the situation had been explained.

  Afterward, Bree put a call into the mayor. Like most local politicians, he was a little in awe of the Colton name, and it hadn’t taken her long to pacify him as well. The local newspaper and radio station had asked for comments. Both had run with a one-sentence statement about a mix-up. So far, it looked like the damage had been contained.

  “But it still means someone got into Kasey’s office and put those things inside the programs before she mailed them.” Rylan called Trey and relayed the details of the incident to him. “That took time and planning.”

  “It also took audacity,” the sheriff said. “Whoever did it could have been interrupted at any time.”

  “Unless it was done at night, or when the gallery was closed.” Rylan had given it some thought. “If that’s the case, the person who did this overrode the security system. David thought the person who attacked him that morning was heading for Bree’s apartment. What if that was a cover? What if the guy had actually just left the gallery?”

  “It’s a possibility,” Trey conceded.

  “There are two lines of inquiry here,” Rylan said. “Someone had those pornographic leaflets printed. And he also entered this gallery at some point.”

  “I’m on it,” Trey assured him. “What’s the motive here? Damage Bree’s business so she’s forced out of the Diamond? Wasn’t that the message in the original emails?”

  “It’s a two-pronged attack. It’s personal because he’s attempting to destroy her reputation with these
vile pictures, but he’s also hitting the gallery. After the guy who came in here today to complain gave us a heads-up, we’ve been able to calm things down,” Rylan said. “Nevertheless, it’s the last thing Bree needed to deal with right now.”

  Frustration was building like a bubble in his chest. How was he supposed to endure this? Wanting to care for Bree, yet being forced to keep his distance? He could be her bodyguard, but he wanted to be more than that. He wanted to hold her, to shoulder her troubles and shut out the world. But it was his own damned fault that he couldn’t do those things. He had told her lies, broken her trust and hurt her beyond repair. And the worst part? He’d known all along what would happen once she knew the truth, but had not done anything to stop it.

  “I’ll be there later,” Trey said. “I just hope Bree has some beer, as well as the usual champagne.”

  After ending the call, Rylan went in search of David. He found the security guard studying the alarm panel that was situated in the staff kitchen.

  “Someone must have gotten in here and tampered with those programs while they were in Kasey’s office.” David echoed Rylan’s own thoughts. “But I can’t find any disruption to the alarm system.”

  Rylan looked at the display. He had a good understanding of security systems, having devised a few himself. This was one of the most expensive on the market, and it had all the features he would recommend. The problem was, no matter how supposedly foolproof the technology, there would always be someone who could get around it.

  David was looking for signs that someone had switched off the alarms. If the person they were looking for was clever enough to do that, it was possible he was also smart enough to cover up what he’d done.

  “What about the cameras?” he asked.

  “It’ll take time, but I can start looking through the images,” David said.

  “No. The sheriff’s office will do that. Just make sure everything is preserved for him.”

  Rylan left him and went to Bree’s office. The door was open, and he paused before going in. She was seated at her desk with her chin resting on her hand as she gazed into space. Papadum had his head on her feet. Rylan took a moment to just drink her in.

  “Don’t you have a show to prepare for?”

  Bree turned her head, blinking slowly as though his words had roused her from a trance. As he gazed at her, tenderness was like a sugar rush directly into his bloodstream.

  “Oh.” She looked at her cell phone. “I didn’t realize the time.”

  She looked so forlorn it took every ounce of strength he possessed to stop from crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her. “You’ve worked hard for this, Bree.”

  “And he’s managed to take it from me.” Her lip trembled.

  “He can only do that if you let him.” He snapped his fingers to Papadum, and the dog ambled to his side. “Don’t let him.”

  Bree remained in her seat for a moment, then she gave a decisive nod. “You’re right. I need to get ready.”

  * * *

  Kasey was arranging the refreshment table, where champagne and canapés awaited the guests. The artists stood around, either alone or in small groups, looking nervous, proud or both. David waited by the doors, decked out in his security guard uniform, checking his watch.

  Rylan, who looked better in a suit than any man had a right to, strode the length of the gallery with Papadum at his side. As he approached her, Bree smoothed the skirts of her coffee-colored vintage lace cocktail gown over her hips.

  “You okay?” He raised a brow in her direction.

  I am now. How did he do that? Reassure her just by being there? More importantly, why did she still let him?

  She nodded. “Let’s do this thing.”

  Together, they headed toward the entrance. At a signal from Bree, David unlocked the doors and stepped back as though expecting a crowd to pour through. Nothing happened.

  “No one is here,” Rylan said.

  “This is normal.” Bree tried to reassure herself with the words. To convince herself it wasn’t because of those awful images that had been sent out with the programs. “People generally arrive later than the time on the invitation.” The doors swung open. “Except my mother...”

  Audrey was elegant in cream satin, her smile wide and proud. Bree gave an exclamation of delight when she saw the man at her side. “Dad!”

  Calvin Colton was the middle son of ninety-four-year-old Earl, the founder of The Colton Empire. The shortest, thinnest and quietest of the three brothers, Calvin had dark brown hair that was graying and receding and kind brown eyes. Since marrying Audrey, he had embraced her commitment to noble causes.

  “You didn’t think I’d stay away?” Calvin kissed Bree on both cheeks. “Let me look at you.” Although his smile was as wide as ever, she could see the concern on his face. “I wish you’d come home, sweetheart. Let us keep you safe.”

  Audrey drew Rylan forward. “Calvin, you remember Rylan. The art promoter.”

  Bree rolled her eyes. “You can drop the act, Mom. Rylan has told me the truth about why he’s here. And Trey knows all about it now as well.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” Audrey tucked one hand into Bree’s arm and the other into Rylan’s. “I can stop worrying and relax, knowing that Rylan will be at your side the whole time.”

  Bree cast a sidelong glance in Rylan’s direction. Did his lips just twitch? When he looked her way, his expression was all boyish innocence.

  “Do you really think he will come here tonight?” Bree asked, as her parents moved away to view the exhibits. The idea that the stalker might be at the show, moving among the guests, bothered her more than she cared to admit. “Hasn’t he scored one victory already with the programs?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” Rylan bit out. “Where’s the fun for him if he doesn’t get to observe the impact of all his hard work?”

  “Fun?” Bree shivered slightly, wrapping her arms around herself.

  His expression softened. “Sorry. Wrong choice of word. But, in my experience, stalkers like to get up close to their victims as often as they can.”

  “Is he a stalker?” Her brow furrowed. “He wanted me to leave because he said the Coltons took advantage of people who were less fortunate. I thought stalking was more about an attraction that had become obsessive.”

  “There isn’t a stereotypical stalker,” Rylan said. “Just as there isn’t one type of victim. However his campaign against you may have started out, there is no doubt it has become personal. And what he’s doing is in fact classic stalking.”

  They were interrupted by more arrivals. As Bree went to greet them, she tried to push aside the thought that any one of them could be the perpetrator who was targeting her. Even so, as the gallery began to fill with invited guests, there was a constant prickle of electricity down her spine. The sensation of someone watching her refused to go away and, despite everything she said to the contrary, she was glad to have Rylan close by.

  Together, they spoke to the group of young artists Rylan had been promoting. Bree was reassured by their obvious gratitude to him for all his hard work on their behalf.

  “I may have a proposition for you,” she told the group of six women and four men. “It’s still early days, but I’m in talks with the city council about producing some Banksy-style street art here in the Diamond. If any of you are interested—” She laughed as her words were drowned out by the excited clamor. “Okay. Let’s leave the liaison to Rylan.”

  After an hour or two, Bree could officially claim that the show was a success. The gallery was crowded with collectors, critics, artists, students, journalists, Bree’s friends and a few members of her family. She had enlisted the help of a local non-profit African choir and drumming group to add color to the event. Their contribution had been so popular that they were continuing to perform, with some of the guests joining them
and dancing to the irresistible beat.

  “You think he’s here?” Trey had managed to snag two beers from somewhere, and he handed one to Rylan.

  Rylan had been watching Lucas Brewer, who was checking the uplighters at the base of one of the sculptures. He turned his attention to Trey. “Don’t you?”

  With their superior height, the two men were able to easily scan the crowd. “It would help if we had a clue—any clue—to his identity,” Trey said.

  “Nothing on the email address?” Rylan asked.

  “You know how it works. If, while using my usual laptop, in my own home, I open my main email account and send a message to you, the police will be able to determine where it came from with only minimal effort. If, on the other hand, I buy a cheap electronic tablet for cash, take it to a bar, log into their guest Wi-Fi, create a new email account and send the message from that...it’s a different story.”

  “Either way, you also have to prove whose fingers were on the keyboard at the time the message was typed,” Rylan said.

  “It’s a whole lot easier with the first scenario.” Trey drained his beer. “I’m going to mingle, chat to a few people. You?”

  Rylan shook his head. “Staying with Bree.”

  “Good answer.”

  “I need to thank everyone for coming,” Bree said. “The proceeds from this show are going to charity, and the total amount raised will be posted on the gallery website in the morning.”

  She could see Rylan assessing the situation. Although the choir and drummers were in position at the far end of the gallery, there was a small stage near the entrance to Arty Sans. A microphone and overhead spotlight had been set up there, together with a podium. Since Bree never used written notes, the podium remained empty.