Stalked

by Lisa Hughey

  Vulnerability gave people the impression that you were a potential victim.

  She would never be a victim again.

  Her face frozen into the fakest of smiles, she kept her gaze moving and her body language all about appearing to be totally into the judge.

  She’d finally understood that Judge Adams didn’t really want a bodyguard. That was why he’d insisted on a woman. Which was how she ended up playing arm candy to the randy old man.

  Everyone she’d been introduced to thought she was his mistress.

  She’d met three judges, four Congressmen—two of whom discreetly indicated that when she was done with the judge they’d have an opening—and several aides who all politely sneered at her when introduced. Clearly the judge’s reputation preceded him.

  So far she’d had to remove his hand from her ass three times.

  Every time, she reminded herself that Hannah and those kids were counting on her. That she could handle a little inconvenient harassment if it meant getting Hannah and the kids away from a violent abusive man.

  But when his palm started straying again, Kita pretended to whisper in the judge’s ear. “Judge.” She smiled and narrowed her gaze.

  His deep-set eyes lit with an avaricious glee. “Yes, my dear.”

  “If you touch my butt one more time, I’ll break your fingers,” she murmured, too softly for anyone but the judge’s ears.

  And shit, she should not have said that. Hannah was depending on her.

  Hell, even Jill was depending on her.

  “Seriously?” Alex growled low in his throat, the sound completely audible through her ear piece. Fortunately, the judge was not dialed in to their security channel.

  The judge slid his hand back to the curve of her waist.

  She patted his fingers to let him know that was better.

  That kind of attention she could handle. It was predictable. But Alex’s gruff voice in her ear, swearing quietly, loosened some of the tension in her body.

  The congresswoman of the hour, Darla Nichols, strode up to them, an interested gleam in her eye. There was an easy familiarity in the way she stood so closely to Judge Adams, as if they knew each other on a more intimate level.

  “Darla, lovely to see you again.” The esteemed congresswoman from Pennsylvania was the reason they were attending this fundraiser. Her five-grand-a-ticket cocktail party was to raise money for her upcoming tough reelection campaign. Her opponent had deep pockets and a wealthy benefactor.

  “Thank you for supporting my campaign, Judge,” Darla said smoothly. Her gaze skimmed over Kita and dismissed her with a blink. Perfect. She preferred to fade into the background.

  “Darla took over her husband’s seat when he died of a heart attack about a month into his second term,” Judge Adams said. “I am a huge admirer. As you well know.”

  The judge was clearly connected.

  The congresswoman smiled again and whispered conspiratorially, “Got to keep on your good side after the Secretary of Labor scandal.”

  The judge held one of her hands between his palms.

  “I’d love it if you’d put in a good word for me after I win,” she said softly.

  The judge raised a brow. “Which committee?”

  Kita tuned out the conversation. She didn’t really care which committee the congresswoman hoped to get on. Her job was to search the crowd for any possible threats.

  A waiter approached their group with a single scotch on a platter. “For you, sir.”

  Kita frowned. There were plenty of bars set up around the perimeter of the room. The black pants and white-shirt-clad waitstaff were only passing hors d’oeuvres.

  And as far as she could see, no one else was getting a drink from a waiter.

  “Champagne, please,” she demanded to the waiter. Who blinked in surprise.

  As the judge reached out to take the highball glass, Kita “accidentally” tripped. But the waiter seemed to see her coming and shifted forward. The judge’s hand closed around the glass and Kita had no choice but to bring her arm down on the judge’s wrist. She put an extra oomph in the move and he lost his grip. The glass shattered on the wooden parquet flooring, sending glass shards and liquid splattering against her bare legs, the congresswoman’s long black dress, and Judge Adams’s shiny shoes.

  The waiter had jumped back.

  The crowd noise disguised most of the sound of the glass breaking apart so only the people nearest them turned around.

  “What the hell?” The judge didn’t raise his voice but his displeasure was very apparent.

  “I’m so sorry, sir,” Kita placed her hand on the judge’s tuxedo jacket right over his heart. Pretending remorse, she leaned in and said clearly, “We need to get out of here.”

  “I don’t want to leave,” the judge said crabbily.

  “Code red?” Alex asked, the concern in his voice came through loud and clear.

  “I need to leave, Judge Adams.” Kita’s legs were tingling, and she didn’t think it had a damn thing to do with the cuts from the broken glass. “I’m feeling a tad faint.”

  Under-fucking statement of the year.

  “Shit,” Alex breathed in her ear. “Shep.”

  “On it.” She recognized Shep’s voice from their sound check. “Coming in hot. I’m the blond dude in a black tux. I’ll be there momentarily.”

  “You shouldn’t have been so clumsy.” The judge’s haughty reprimand set her on edge. But they had bigger problems.

  Kita squeezed his arm. Hard. “We need to leave, Bobby.”

  “I can have my driver drop you at home…later, if you want to stay, Judge.” The congresswoman’s smile confirmed that she and the judge had been more intimately acquainted in the past.

  “Judge Adams. Nice to see you again.” Shep came straight toward Kita and then circled around so he was on her right. “Your date doesn’t look so good. We should probably get her to the sick room.”

  The judge was going to argue.

  “Please, sir.”

  “I’ll have to take a raincheck, Darla.” The judge bussed the woman’s cheek and gallantly took Kita’s arm.

  Kita didn’t have to pretend to be faint. The tingling had turned into an all-out fire on her skin. As soon as they moved away from the congresswoman, Kita said, “You need to get the judge out of here.”

  Her breath had begun to drag in her chest, each inhale a workout as her lungs constricted as if she was being squeezed in a bear hug.

  “Shep, you aren’t leaving her there,” Alex said sharply.

  “Of course not. What’s wrong with you?” Shep demanded quietly.

  “I don’t know. Poison, maybe?” Kita gasped rawly. “You need to find out where the waiter got that glass.”

  They hustled to the express elevator and within a few minutes they escorted the judge out the front door, where the limo was idling. The judge helped Kita in and then Shep practically shoved the judge in after her.

  Alex peeled away discreetly, not so fast as to call attention to their departure, but with purpose.

  “Shit.” Alex swore from the driver’s seat. “We’ve got to get her to a medic.”

  The judge sat across from Kita, studying her intently. “You think that was meant for me?” His face had whitened.

  She bobbed her head, trying to control her muscles.

  “Any ideas what it was?” Alex took a corner with too much speed.

  “Fast-acting.” Kita tried to think calmly. She hadn’t even ingested it. Some of the liquid had merely splashed on her legs and possibly entered her bloodstream through the cuts from the broken glass.

  “What other symptoms?”

  “Elevated heart rate, constricted airways, sweating.” She tried to get her mouth to move, but forming the words felt like trying to talk under water. Slurred speech, disoriented, slow processing of details, she forced herself to focus on the precisely trimmed hair on the back of Alex’s head. She listed off her symptoms as if they weren’t happening to her. Mean
while, sweat coated her skin and her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest.

  “Anaphylactic?” Alex was trying to make his voice calm—how she knew that was a mystery, but she knew.

  “Maybe?” But rational thought filtered through her panicking brain. “Might be an allergic reaction.”

  “What are you allergic to?”

  “Aspirin.” Kita’s vision shorted—white dots swam in her eyes, blurring her focus, and the world slowly faded to opaque. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a survivor.”

  Alex jerked to a stop at the hospital emergency room entrance. As soon as Kita mentioned the poison possibility, he’d called in a doctor the marshals worked with to meet them at this facility. But he had to get her inside. Pronto.

  “Stay. R-ith sh-udge,” Kita argued.

  Bobby Adams had been remarkably quiet.

  Shit. She was correct. Technically Alex should wait until someone could get her inside and he should stand guard over the judge. Especially since she was reacting to some substance meant for their protectee.

  “Not leaving you here.” Alex shut off the engine and rounded the side of the car. He yanked open the limo door. Her face was so pale, her lips nearly white. Sweat coated her skin and the hair at her temple was soaked.

  He couldn’t just leave her in the car for someone to eventually come get her, and he couldn’t abandon the judge. The rules were extremely clear on that directive. The protectee’s safety was first priority.

  But fuck.

  Kita had fallen unconscious. Her breathing was labored. He had to get her inside the hospital. Now.

  But he also couldn’t leave the judge alone.

  Alex lifted Kita into his arms, another break in protocol. If anyone attacked the judge right now, Alex did not have his hands free. His thoughts, normally measured, precise and focused, bounced all over the place.

  He’d have to take the judge with him.

  “Let’s go, Judge.” Dammit, for her big personality, she was awfully light in his arms.

  “I can just stay right—”

  “She’s going into shock because she stopped you from ingesting a tainted drink,” Alex snarled. “Get your ass out of the car.”

  The panic he was trying to suppress plowed to the surface of his consciousness. Fuck him.

  Finally, the judge seemed to realize that his position was precarious.

  “I’ll have another team here momentarily to escort you home.” Alex said, “But right now, I need you to come with me so that this young woman can get treatment and I can keep you protected.” No time for polite niceties. “Get moving.”

  Alex barreled through the emergency room doors and bypassed the main waiting room crammed with people. Dr. Sharmila Patel had her own private practice inside the Beltway but she also had privileges at this hospital.

  His feet thudded on the linoleum as he ran toward the outpatient surgery department, trying unsuccessfully not to jostle Kita. The bright fluorescent overhead light seared his eyes, the burn keeping him focused on getting her into the exam room, rather than the terror ripping apart his insides.

  The judge didn’t quite keep pace with him. But he wasn’t far behind. Thank God.

  Alex didn’t know what he would do if the judge fell back farther. He wanted to concentrate on the woman in his arms, but his responsibilities pulled him in two directions, taut, like a rubber band stretched beyond its natural elasticity. He was at his limits between duty and need, and he didn’t know if he would snap back, or break.

  The surgery center was closed this time of night, but Dr. Patel met them at the doorway and gestured Alex inside. The door closed behind the judge with a quiet snick.

  “How is she presenting?”

  Alex listed off her symptoms. “We think she was poisoned but it could also be an allergic reaction.”

  He laid her down on the hospital bed, taking care to protect her head from banging on the cushioned table. The silky strands of her hair tangled in his fingers and he remembered their kiss. Remembered the longing he’d suppressed. He’d wanted to thread his fingers through that thick curtain and fist her hair in his hand and hold her captive while he plundered her.

  Goddammit.

  The doctor efficiently propped up Kita’s feet, then began her exam.

  “Did she ingest the poison?” Mila was running her nitrile-clad fingers over Kita.

  Get your fucking head in this room, Saunders.

  Kita’s head lolled to the side, her breathing compromised, thick and wheezy in the shadowed examination room. The bank of equipment—oxygen machines, heart rate monitors, and EKG machines—behind the doctor stayed silent.

  “I don’t think so.” Impotent with rage, he clenched his fists to stop from reaching out and stroking those sweaty strands away from her face. To stop himself from whispering in her ear that he wouldn’t let anything or anyone hurt her.

  He certainly hadn’t done a stellar job up until this point.

  “Glass broke, some of the liquid splashed on her legs.” The judge spoke from the corner where he’d slumped. “There may be cuts.”

  The doctor examined her legs, small dried blood spots dotted her shins, but none of them looked deep. Even though Mila wasn’t a crime scene tech, maybe they could get something from Kita’s skin.

  The doctor directed Alex. “Flip on the monitors over there.”

  She tilted Kita’s head back and stuck her fingers in her throat, then lifted her eyelids. “Dilated pupils,” she murmured, “constricted airway, difficulty breathing. She’s got all the markers of anaphylactic shock but I won’t know what she’s been exposed to until I see some blood work.”

  Alex wasn’t a doctor, but even he could tell Kita was struggling. “Do we have that long?”

  “No.” Her luminous black eyes and the crinkle between her eyebrows told the story. With crisp efficiency, she wrapped rubber tubing around Kita’s biceps and thumped the vein in the crook of her arm. The blue vein popped quickly, and she deftly inserted a needle, withdrawing a vial of blood in seconds. She dabbed the insertion point with cotton and wrapped a Band-Aid over the cotton. “I’m going to have to give her a dose of adrenaline and then epinephrine.”

  “English, Sharmila.”

  “Like an epi-pen but more intense.”

  “Will it save her?”

  “Probably.” Mila bit her plump lip. “Unless it works with whatever else in her bloodstream and makes the effects worse.”

  She attached a blood pressure cuff to Kita’s arm, slipped the oxygen mask over Kita’s mouth and nose and continued to monitor her vitals. In the meantime, Kita’s heart rate was slowing, and even through the oxygen mask her breathing was labored.

  Fuck.

  Judicial Security Division protocol dictated that he not leave his protectee unattended. Especially with the imminent threat to Judge Adams’s safety. Right now Alex was so pissed at Judge Adams his brain was one wrong word from exploding in rage.

  He needed to get the judge out of here. Alex quickly made a call to HQ requesting backup since he didn’t know when his partner would be free. Right now, Shep was busy interrogating the waiter who’d delivered the drink at the fundraiser.

  Mila was on the phone, likely consulting with another doctor.

  Alex couldn’t stand it any longer. He needed to touch her. To feel her life force. To let her know that he would protect her while she couldn’t protect herself. He gripped her hand, pressing her palm between his like a prayer. Her soft skin was delicate and feminine beneath his rougher hands.

  Acid pitched and rolled in his stomach, battering away at the lining as possible consequences scrolled through his mind at a dizzying speed. He breathed—in and out—in time with her, as if by sheer will he could force her to continue breathing. “Keep fighting,” Alex whispered in her ear. “I won’t let anything happen to you. But you’ve got to meet me halfway, Kita. Keep fighting. Dammit.”

  Mila put her cold palm over Alex and Kita’s clasped hands. “I’m sor
ry, I’m going to have to give this to her. We just have to hope there isn’t an adverse interaction between the adrenaline and whatever is in her system. We can’t wait because her symptoms are getting worse.”

  Alex inhaled, holding the breath in his lungs. Ba-bump echoed in his ears along with a rushing noise as she injected Kita.

  There was no change.

  “Nothing is happening.”

  “Alex, take it down a notch.” But the doctor was sweating. “We have to wait fifteen minutes to see if the adrenaline works.”

  Alex held Kita’s hand in a tight grip. She was so small and delicate.

  He studied everything Mila was doing. She set up the IV pole and started a drip of fluid. “What’s that?”

  “Right now it’s just fluid, but if the adrenaline takes and her symptoms start to subside, I’ll add some antihistamines. If it doesn’t, I’ll give her some epinephrine next.”

  They waited in silence. Mila continued to fuss over Kita, then she adjusted the oxygen mask and rolled her onto her side.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Putting her in the recovery position in case she vomits.” Mila propped her fists on her hips. “Do I ask you what you’re doing every time you go to work?”

  Jesus. He was acting like a maniac.

  But he couldn’t bear that she had been hurt on his watch. And he’d broken protocol bringing Kita in. What if someone had gone after the judge while Alex was carrying her? After his brother was hurt when they were kids he’d learned to follow the rules, always. When you ignored policies, bad things happened. “Sorry, Mila.”

  Mila rolled off the nitrile gloves and squeezed his biceps. “I know.”

  His phone buzzed on his hip. But he didn’t want to let go of Kita’s hand.

  He shifted so he could pull out his phone without releasing her from his grip. Alex answered one handed, never taking his gaze from the rise and fall of her chest. “Saunders.”

  “Where are you?” It was Shep. “I’m here.”

  “Come back to the outpatient operating suite.”

  He hung up. Alex watched Kita for any additional sign of distress.