by Joanna Wayne
“Nick’s dead. You can’t save him. It’s you and Alex you have to think about now.”
Right now staying in Denver was the last thing she wanted to do. All the problems were here. If she could just get back to their estate in Beverly Hills, life would return to normal.
But the rational part of her knew that was only wishful thinking and faulty reasoning. If someone had hired a hit man to kill her, the danger wouldn’t stop just because she caught a plane to Los Angeles.
It all came down to this: did she dare put hers and Alex’s life in Jack’s hands?
“I don’t want to go back to that hotel,” she said. “I don’t want to be around all of those people in town for the film festival.”
“You don’t have to. You and Alex can stay at the Single S.” Jack put his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me, Kelly. I only want to protect you, and I can do that better here in Denver where I already know all the parameters.”
She tilted her head and met his gaze. “If we stay on your ranch, it will just be for protection.”
“I didn’t offer anything else.”
But there was something else between them, maybe only sparks from the fires of passion they’d shared that one night so long ago. But if she went with him, the sparks might ignite. And then where would she be?
Alive, which she wouldn’t have been if Jack hadn’t been driving them to the airport today.
“Okay, Jack. To the Single S it is.”
He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “Right after I change this flat.”
She was calmer as she stepped back into the car, though plenty of adrenaline still raced through her veins. She had no idea what she was up against, but by some quirk of fate, she’d ended up in the hands of Jack Sanders. Right now she couldn’t imagine that there was any better place to be.
Saturday, 2:42 p.m.
The Single S
JACK PULLED UP at the door to his house with Kelly and Alex and was forced to admit to himself that it was a tad less impressive than he liked to believe. He’d bought it with the acreage and outbuildings a year after he’d taken the job with PPS.
He’d settled in the way a man does. He marked his territory by fixing fences and gates and upgrading the stables, hay barns and ranching equipment. The house he’d pretty much left as it was except for filling the shelves with his books and the refrigerator with his beer.
They were accosted by his two overly friendly Labrador retrievers and his new collie puppy as they stepped out of the car. The dogs made quick friends of the new female guests and had collected lots of cooing and petting before he could get the door unlocked.
“It’s not much,” Jack said. Actually it seemed a lot less now that he was here with Kelly. The rugs were old, the original plank floors were marred and the wood and leather furniture was worn. There were no curtains at the windows, and no pictures on the wall, except a print of an Indian warrior the previous owner had left.
Jack had seen photos once of the Beverly Hills estate Kelly and Nick owned. There had been a full spread in one of their receptionist’s fanzines. Six bedrooms, two pools, probably servants at her beck and call and fresh flowers in every room. What in the world had he been thinking to bring her here?
Thinking of her protection, he reminded himself, and it really didn’t matter what she thought of his living arrangements. Still, he stopped to straighten the newspapers he’d left scattered over the sofa and grabbed a pair of dirty socks he’d left in the middle of the floor. “Sorry for the mess.”
“You weren’t exactly expecting your clients to come home with you.”
“No, this is a first.” It had never even occurred to him with any of the others.
“What’s your puppy’s name?” Alex asked.
“Stormy. And the big dogs are Pete and Repeat.”
“Repeat. That’s funny.” Alex spotted his prizewinning rainbow trout that was mounted and hanging over the stone fireplace. “You got a fish.”
“I sure do. Do you like to go fishing?”
She made a face. “I’m too little to go fishing.”
“No one’s too little to fish.”
“Can I touch it?”
“Sure.” Jack swooped Alex up in his arms and held her so that she was eye to eye with the trout. She touched it warily, then jerked her hand back. “Will it bite?”
“No. Feel it all you want. You can’t hurt it, and it can’t hurt you.”
Kelly ran her hand along the edge of the rough-hewn mantel. “How long have you lived here?”
“A couple of years. Guess I should have fixed the house up more by now.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“It works for me.”
She scanned the room while she unzipped Alex’s parka. “I can see how it would. It looks like you in a way.”
“Unkempt?”
“You are anything but unkempt, Jack Sanders. I meant solid, tough but unpredictable—and interesting.”
“Tough and unpredictable. I doubt I could score with that resume on PickUpHotChicks.com.”
“You’re kidding. There’s no such Web site, is there?”
“I doubt it.” He shrugged out of his jacket and held out his hand for Alex’s. “I’ll hang these on the hook by the back door.”
“Wait, and you can take mine, too.” He held the collar of her fur-trimmed leather trench coat while she slipped out of it, fully aware that it probably cost more than his whole wardrobe.
A nail on the wall by the back door didn’t seem appropriate for expensive leather and fur, so he took the coats to his bedroom and tossed all three of them on top of his faded quilt. When he returned to the den, Alex was playing with pieces of fatwood from the basket on the hearth and Kelly was standing at the window behind the rectangular oak table he used as a desk.
“I love the view.”
“That’s Fulman’s River. Great fishing.”
She nodded. “I tried fly-fishing once. I wasn’t good at it, but I could probably learn.”
He pictured her in his river, her hair blowing in a spring breeze, the silvery spray wetting her jeans. His throat clogged. “It’s not for everyone.”
Kelly stepped back from the window. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“The kitchen. I’ll make a pot of coffee.”
“Where’s Stormy?” Alex asked as they walked away from her.
“He’s outside with the other dogs,” Kelly answered. “Stay in here and play with the wood while Jack and I talk business, and when we’re through I’ll take you outside to see him.”
“And the other dogs, too?”
“Right. We’ll see all the dogs.”
Jack was filling the pot with fresh water when Kelly grabbed her cell phone from her pocket. He hadn’t heard it ring, but then she’d had it on vibrate all day and had been screening her calls and ignoring most of them.
“It’s Detective Carter,” she said. “Do you want to explain what happened? You seem to have a better understanding of the hit man angle than I do.”
“You talk first, and then I’ll add my spin on the attack.”
She nodded and took the call.
“WE’VE MADE AN ARREST.”
Kelly must have misunderstood the detective. “Are you saying you’ve arrested the man who murdered Nick?”
“Who allegedly murdered Nick. But he’s a strong suspect. He’s been in and out of mental hospitals for the last five years and he has a history of stalking famous politicians and entertainers.”
“Did he know Nick?”
“Not before last night. He spotted him at a local hotspot when he was out cruising clubs in hopes of running into celebrities.”
“And he shot him just because he could?”
“He says he tried to talk to Nick and Nick brushed him off. He got angry and when Nick left that club to meet friends at another club just down the way, the suspect followed him. At that point, he claims Nick pulled a gun and that the fatal shots were fired in a scuffle to d
isarm Nick.”
“You’re saying the shooting was self-defense?”
“There was no weapon on Nick. That’s why the suspect’s in jail.”
“But he told you that’s what happened?”
“We pieced some of it together, but he’s confessed to everything.”
So if Carter had the man in jail who’d killed Nick, then who had just shot at them? “When did you arrest this man?”
“A couple of hours ago. He called the station and told the clerk on phone duty that he’d killed a man. That’s all he’d say. She put in a call to the patrol team in the area and when they arrived at the address he’d given her, he was waiting for them with his hands out to be handcuffed.”
“What’s the name of the suspect?”
“We haven’t released his name to the media yet, but we will soon so I may as well tell you. It’s David Bates.”
Bates, like the famous psycho. But she doubted psychos hired hit men.
“Guess that’s it,” the detective said. “I’ll get in touch with you if we need anything else. Are you and your daughter flying back to L.A. today?”
“We were—until someone tried to kill us.”
“What?”
“We were fired on from a passing car by a man with an AK-47.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Do you think I would kid about that after what happened to Nick?”
Carter muttered a curse. “Excuse the French. This town’s gone crazy. Can you identify the shooter?”
“No.”
“Did you get his license plate number?”
“No, it happened too fast.”
“Are you still with Jack Sanders?”
“He was driving the car. He’s standing right here if you’d like to talk to him.”
“Put him on.”
She handed Jack the phone, more confused than ever. She couldn’t believe Nick had become involved in anything that would get him killed let alone put a hit man on her trail. But if he’d been killed by David Bates, then who had fired on them? And how long would it be before the assault-rifle hoodlum made another attempt to take her out?
She had to get out of here, maybe take Alex and leave the country, go anyplace where she could keep her safe. She tried to listen to Jack’s end of the conversation, but frightening scenarios were clouding her mind.
She checked on Alex. The little darling had put all the fatwood back in the basket and was pushing her little foot into one of the boots Jack had left drying near the hearth. Kelly poured herself a cup of the fresh-brewed coffee and walked to the kitchen window, staying close so she could hear Jack’s end of the conversation. His voice rose.
“You can do what you want, but I’m not letting either Kelly or Alex out of my sight until I know who’s really behind this, and it’s not that fruitcake you have in jail now.”
In spite of everything, she felt a twinge of relief. Who’d have ever expected that the renegade rebel who’d taken her on the most thrilling midnight ride of her life would be the man she’d count on when her world became steeped in danger?
She took another sip of the coffee and felt the tenseness that knotted her muscles start to ease. The relief lasted only a second, until Kelly heard the front door open and slam shut. She raced to the den, sloshing coffee all over her slacks and the kitchen floor.
She scanned the room quickly. Alex was nowhere in sight.
Chapter Six
Saturday, 3:08 p.m.
Single S Ranch
Kelly rushed to the front door, yanked it open, and then fell against the facing as the panic melted into crippling relief and an outburst of fear-induced anger.
She raced to Alex, who was trying her best to hug the wiggling collie, and stooped so that they were at eye level. “You know not to go outside without permission, Alex.”
Alex turned away, and Kelly grabbed her arm and pulled her back to face her. “You are never, ever to leave any house without asking. You have to do as I say. Do you understand me?”
Alex started to sob, and Kelly let go of her as the three dogs stared at her with accusing eyes. Even they knew she’d lost it. The events of the last twenty-four hours had turned her into a hysterical, paranoid shrew. “I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean to sound so angry.”
“I just wanted to see the horseys. See?” Alex pointed a shaky finger at two beautiful animals in a fenced area a few yards from where they were standing.
Jack extended a hand to help Kelly from her stooped position. She hadn’t realized he was there, but of course he would be. He took his job as bodyguard very seriously, but even he couldn’t protect them against everything. She’d panicked over nothing, but it would have taken only that split second for someone to have walked into the house and abducted her daughter.
“I’ll get our coats and hats, and then we’ll go see the horses together,” she offered.
Alex sniffled and rubbed her wet eyes with the backs of her little curled fists. Kelly pulled a clean tissue from her pocket and held it to Alex’s nose. “Blow,” she instructed, with a voice still strained from the latest fright.
Alex blew and went back to playing with Stormy, her tears forgotten.
“I’ll get your coats,” Jack said.
When he returned with them, she helped Alex into hers and then started to follow Alex as she skipped away with the collie at her heels. Jack took her arm and held her back.
“I know,” she said, stuffing her arms though the sleeves of her coat. “I overreacted, but something could have happened to Alex. Anyone could have come through the gate to your ranch. It’s not even locked.”
“The gates are locked.”
“I didn’t see you lock or unlock them when we came in. They just swung open when you stopped near them.” She jerked from his grasp. “I’m not questioning your ability as a bodyguard, but you’re not some fictional hero with superhuman powers.”
“I’m not a hero, fictional or otherwise, but I do have superhuman powers. Only difference is that mine come from technology instead of incredible abilities on my part.”
“What kind of technology?”
“Motion detectors, silent alarms that go straight to my cell phone, hidden cameras at key positions around the property and house. I knew the second the door opened that Alex had opened it.”
Jack pulled a handheld device the size of a small cell phone from his pocket. He pushed a key and the recorded image of Alex slipping out the door and being accosted by Stormy’s welcoming tongue and wagging tail flashed across the digital monitor.
“Why would you have that kind of equipment on your ranch? Is it that dangerous to live here?”
“The equipment belongs to PPS. We’re experimenting with it for use in a safe house we’re developing.”
“Having your own safe house seems a bit extreme for a bodyguard service.”
“We’re not just a bodyguard service. We specialize in protection and investigation. Anyone can hire us, but many of our clients are top executives, foreign dignitaries and former politicians who’ve become targets from enemies as well organized as the Mafia or terrorist groups. Occasionally we interact with Homeland Security. The world is a very volatile place right now.”
Jack hooked his thumbs in his pockets and kicked at a lump of mud with the toe of his boot. “You’re safer on this ranch than anyplace else in Colorado. I just need to alert my boss at PPS as to what’s going on and get Lenny working on discovering what Nick was into.”
Names, places, technology—they were all coming at her too fast. “Who’s Lenny?”
“PPS’s favorite resident geek. His real name’s William Lennard, and if it’s in cyberspace, he can find it.”
“Nick wasn’t involved in anything criminal, Jack. I’m sure of it. He had his faults, but a man as worried as he was about the public finding out he was a homosexual certainly wouldn’t have dabbled in anything illegal. He wouldn’t have risked his career for that.”
“Drugs are illegal
, and Nick had amphetamines in his system the night he was killed,” Jack reminded her, as they started walking toward where Alex was standing and staring through the fence at a golden palomino with a white tail and flowing mane.
“Then someone slipped them into his drinks. That was his weakness. Drinking and partying with his friends.”
Jack nodded, but she could tell he wasn’t convinced.
“Can I ride the horsey, Mommy? Please. Please.”
Jack lifted Alex and set her atop his shoulders. “What do you think, Mom? Shall we take a short ride before the snow starts up again? Somebody I know could use a relaxing break.”
Murder and assault rifles. Danger and sophisticated surveillance technology. All the makings of one of Nick’s movies, only the starring role was played by the very virile and sexy Jack Sanders in jeans and a denim jacket, snowflakes shimmering in his dark hair, her daughter laughing atop his shoulders.
“Sure. Cowboy up!” she said, using an expression from one of Nick’s movies while she high-fived her daughter. She wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but she thought it had something to do with smiling when you felt like hiding under a huge rock.
Alex clapped her hands and dug her knees into Jack’s ribs to keep her balance on his shoulders.
“Alex and I can ride on the palomino,” Jack said, “since she’s already taken to Ishwar.”
“That’s an unusual name for a horse.” Though unusual names fit in this strange, surreal world of high tech and horses.
“It’s an Indian word. I’m not sure what it means, but I like the sound of it.”
“We’ll need to change clothes,” Kelly said, looking down at her Manolo Blahnik strapped boots with their four-inch heels.
Jack set Alex back on the ground. “I’ll make that phone call to PPS and get the horses saddled while you get into riding gear. Dress warm. That wind can cut right through you if we get up to a good gallop.”
Alex ran toward the house with three dogs running circles around her short legs. Kelly walked behind her slowly, her heart warming at the sight of her daughter’s innocent excitement. Too bad her life couldn’t stay that way forever.
But nothing ever did. Her own life was proof of that. A promising career that had nose-dived before it began. Her seemingly perfect marriage that had ended in disillusionment and tragedy.