Bodyguards Boxed Set

by Julianne MacLean

  His hands tightened at her waist. “No, you shouldn’t have.” Though the words were clipped, they, too, were uttered hoarsely, and gentled by his obvious concern for her. He lifted one hand and smoothed his knuckles down her cheek. His palm caressed her chin and she leaned into it. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  It wasn’t fear that trip-hammered through her heart. It was a strong surge of emotion for this man, and though her reaction horrified her, she couldn’t make herself step away. Nor did she trust herself to speak, so in answer to his question, she nodded.

  He stared at her for a long moment, then pulled her into his arms again. “When I saw that car...”

  The emotion in his voice undid her. Unashamedly, she held on to him as the tears came.

  Tenderly he smoothed his hand down her hair. “Shh, baby, you’re safe now.”

  She shook her head.

  “Yes, you’re safe now.”

  She shook her head again.

  Easing back, he tilted her chin. “Tell me.”

  It came out against her will. As she hiccupped, she said, “I’m only safe when you’re with me.”

  He started to protest, but she interrupted.

  “No one else can protect me like you. You would never have left me at the office. I’m only a part-time job for Ferron. You’d have been there when I needed to get to Lauren. I’m sorry, Cord,” she said, hating herself for her weakness, for the tears that streamed down her cheeks. “But I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow. I know you need to, for Megan, but I’m afraid.” Then she burrowed into his chest once more and he clasped her to him. “I’m afraid when I’m not with you.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  * * *

  THE BLUE CHEVY took a quick turn down one of the side roads off College Hill and came to a rumbling halt beside several trees. Safe, the driver switched off the engine and slammed his gloved hand against the steering wheel.

  “Fuck the bitch!” the man raged into the empty car. The epithet echoed around him and he gave it the company of even more pungent four-letter words. She’d escaped him again. That bastard bodyguard had saved her again. Where in hell had McKay come from?

  As with the other three times, he’d planned it so well. First he’d slashed her tires, hoping to grab her when she left work, alone, late at night. He hadn’t counted on the imbecile security guard helping her out. When he’d tailed her later that week, she met her father at a restaurant before he could snatch her. Ultimately, he couldn’t keep himself from making the phone calls that had been meant to scare her. Well-deserved punishment for eluding him.

  But Monday night was the last straw. He’d had her creamy white skin in his hands, damn it. He could still feel her soft flesh, her warm breath, her heart beating fast with fear. He’d had her and that bastard of a hero had ruined all his well-laid plans. It was embarrassing. He felt like a bumbling fool. They were probably laughing at him right now.

  Yanking open the door, he stomped out into the drizzle and spat on the ground. Then he raised his face to the darkening sky and let the rain soak him.

  Now they’d both pay. It wasn’t just for the money anymore. After tonight, the person who had hired him was out of the picture. Things had changed. He was after Stacey Webb for a different reason.

  He wanted revenge.

  She’d pay for the trouble she’d given him. She’d do her penance. He’d see to it. Leaning over, he slipped his hand into his boot and fingered the blade hidden there.

  It made him feel better just touching it.

  He’d enjoy using it to teach Miss High-and-Mighty a thing or two.

  * * *

  CORD LOOKED AROUND the Webbs’ library at the four people comforting Stacey and her father. An ugly thought was beginning to take hold. Everyone here had revealed, in the course of Stacey’s telling them the story, that they’d known she’d be on College Hill tonight. And her relationships with at least three of them seemed odd. Preston Matthews was protective of her in what seemed a contrived way, as if he was only playing the hero. Lauren Sellers was far too solicitous of Stacey’s well-being for it to be normal. Joe Ferron seemed to almost idolize her. And Cord didn’t know much about Judith Johnson, Gifford’s date for the evening, and much more, if rumor around Canfield was true.

  Settled into the crook of Gifford’s arm, Stacey finished recounting how she’d been run off the road, how terrified she’d been and how Cord had rescued her again. As she told them about the stop they’d made at the police station to report the incident, she shivered many times and her words came out in halting phrases. Each one pierced the armor Cord was trying to maintain against her.

  “What the hell were you thinking, Stacey?” Gifford asked, his voice harsh and driven by fear.

  “Gif.” Judith Johnson touched his arm soothingly. “I don’t think Stacey needs to be reprimanded right now.”

  Her father hugged Stacey tighter and kissed her dark hair. It looked almost black now, still wet from the rain they’d stood in, while she’d valiantly tried not to beg him to stay as her bodyguard.

  “You’re right, Judith. But you were wrong about giving her some space. She took off for the college without an escort.”

  “I know,” the older woman admitted calmly. “I was wrong.” Cord watched her fold her hands, adorned with two thick, gold rings. They matched the gold at her wrists, neck and ears, and complemented her suit, the kind Cord had seen in the window of Lord and Taylor in New York. He made a mental note to find out how a high school history teacher could afford such expensive trappings.

  “It…it’s my fault,’’ Lauren said from the other side of the room. She shrank back into a wing chair that dwarfed her, blending into the background, as always. “I asked Stacey to meet me, but I thought Joe would be with her.” Watery eyes focused on Stacey’s father. “I’m sorry, Gifford.”

  Gifford, not Stacey.

  Joe Ferron stood. A former high school football star, he was about Cord’s size, muscular and fit. Cord knew he worked out at Samson’s Gym every day. “Aw, geez, Lauren, it’s really my fault.” He turned to Cord. “I know I was supposed to stay with her, but I got this call from the department to report to the intersection of Routes 17 and 454. Only thing is, when I went, there wasn’t any freakin’ accident.”

  A pretend call? Or had someone been trying to get the cop out of the way? Cord wondered.

  “Why didn’t you go back to Stacey’s office?” Gifford asked Ferron.

  “I did, after I checked in at the station. When they told me nobody had called me from there about an accident, I high-tailed it back to the office, but she was gone.”

  Preston Matthews rose from the sofa, his face pinched with anger. “You’re an idiot, Ferron. Stacey’s safety is top priority. You should have called the station to check before you left her alone.” Then he turned to Cord, his shrewd eyes blazing. “Which leads us to you, McKay. You’re supposed to be such a hotshot. Where the hell were you when this was happening?”

  Cord wanted big-time to knock out several of Matthews’s perfect white teeth. Instead, he forced back the urge, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Pulling out of Gifford’s embrace, Stacey jumped up. “Preston, stop it! Cord made it very clear he couldn’t be with me all the time. He was off duty. This wasn’t his fault.”

  Matthews’s gaze seared Cord for a minute. Then he crossed to Stacey and grasped her arms. As Cord watched Preston smooth back Stacey’s hair, he gritted his teeth so hard they hurt. The man’s other hand sneaked to her side and hovered just underneath her full breast. “I’m sorry, love, but I’m so worried about you.”

  Yeah, so worried you went out of town for two days.

  Not your business, McKay. That rock on her third finger gives him the right to her.

  “How did you happen to be on College Hill, McKay?” Gifford asked, breaking Cord’s focus on Matthews.

  “I had a hunch something was wrong.”

  “A hunch?” Matthew
s raised an eyebrow at Cord.

  “Yeah, you know, one of those things where you have a bad feeling about something.”

  Easy, McKay . If he’d only take his hands off her.

  Turning away, Cord finished, “I was at an end-of-the-year function with my daughter at her preschool. I called Stacey from the school. When I got no answer, I tried here and then her cell. Finally, I reached Lauren at work and she told me she was meeting Stacey at the college.”

  “How’d you get to her so quick?” Ferron asked.

  “Luckily, my mother was at the preschool, too. She took over with Megan, so I left right away.”

  “With not a minute to spare.” Matthews didn’t try to disguise his reproachful tone.

  Drawing away from him, Stacey shook her head. “Preston, he saved my life tonight. Stop criticizing him.”

  “I’m your fiancé, Stacey, and I’m concerned about your welfare. I have a right to be critical.”

  “This isn’t helping,” Gifford stood and turned to Cord. “Where do we go from here?”

  Carefully avoiding Stacey’s eyes, Cord straightened. “The Anderson man will be here tomorrow to take over. I’ll spend the night on the couch just in case, but you’ll all feel better once you have a security expert here.”

  “I know I will,” Preston said, sliding his hands into his thousand-dollar suit pockets.

  Stacey looked longingly at Cord but bit her lip.

  To keep from begging you to stay. To let you go to Megan.

  “Stacey, are you all right?” Gifford asked.

  “Yes, Daddy, I’m just scared.”

  Gifford watched her for a minute, then his gaze went to Cord. “Maybe this Anderson thing isn’t the right choice. Maybe McKay should stay as your bodyguard.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Gif,” Matthews put in.

  Gifford faced Matthews abruptly. “This is Stacey’s life we’re talking about, Preston. She needs the best.”

  Then he turned to Cord. “Listen, McKay, if it’s more money—”

  Slowly stepping away from the window, Cord hoped his voice was more controlled than he felt. “It has nothing to do with money.” Involuntarily, his eyes scanned Stacey’s rumpled yellow linen suit, mud-caked shoes and tear-stained face.

  “It’s because of his daughter, Daddy.” Stacey’s voice was strained. “We can’t take him away from her. I only wish there was some way he could do both.”

  “Maybe you could make arrangements for Cord to spend time with Megan,” Lauren suggested. “Occasionally. Frequently.”

  Gifford followed up with “I understand how you feel about your daughter, McKay. But try to understand how I feel about mine...”

  Again, Cord felt the guilt ripple through him. He owed this family.

  The jangle of Cord’s cell phone made everyone jump. He checked the ID. Another hunch hit Cord in the gut. He knew he didn’t want to take this call. “It’s Tom Anderson.” He clicked on.” Yeah, Tom. McKay here.”

  “I have some bad news,” his friend said, not wasting words. “The operative that was supposed to be in Canfield tomorrow got hurt stepping off the plane in New York. Broke his foot. Ironic, huh? He faced down terrorists for three months without a scratch.”

  “Then send somebody else.”

  “There’s a lot going on in New York this month,” Anderson reminded him. “The only guy I have is a twenty-two-year-old rookie.”

  “Pull a man off another case.”

  “You know I can’t do that.” Tom sighed audibly. “Look, McKay, you’re better than any guy I have and you’re free. Why don’t you just take the case?”

  Cord wondered what Tom would do if he told his friend outright that he couldn’t take the case because every time he was with her he liked her more, wanted to be with her more. And he couldn’t go down that path because he’d slept with her mother eighteen years ago, and really messed up everybody’s life.

  Which was why he had to help them now, he concluded.

  Tom would probably tell him how ironic it was.

  Ironic, hell, Cord thought as he clicked off and faced a wide-eyed Stacey and a stone-faced Webb. It was just plain unfair.

  * * *

  STACEY KEPT TAKING deep breaths—she hoped discreetly. It was the only way she could calm herself after the terrifying incident on the road, though she had to admit she felt a lot better now that Cord had agreed to stay as her bodyguard. That he was going to be sleeping in the sitting room that connected to her bedroom also helped.

  “Nice place,” he said, scanning the interior of the suite she’d occupied since returning from college three years ago. “Was it always like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Did you grow up with it like this—your bedroom, a bathroom and a living room?”

  “No. When I came back from college, we converted this wing into an apartment with a separate entrance. It’s very private, since Daddy’s room is at the other end of the house.” She looked around sadly. “Originally, the bathroom connected two bedrooms. It was supposed to be for a brother or sister, but of course I never had one.”

  Cord’s blue eyes were so bleak she wanted to touch him. It didn’t help her state of mind to admit that she’d wanted to touch him ever since they’d returned from College Hill.

  “You never had any siblings, either, did you?” she asked.

  “No, one child was all Nathan McKay could handle. And he didn’t do a very good job of that.”

  His uncontrolled bitterness shocked Stacey. “Everyone says your father was a fantastic policeman.”

  “He was.” Cord’s face shuttered. “Look, let’s check out these rooms, okay?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want to secure the doors and windows, that kind of thing.”

  “But didn’t you do that three days ago when you inspected the house?”

  “Yeah, but I want to be sure.” Watching her, the harsh lines of his mouth softened. “Sit down. A stiff wind could blow you over right now.”

  Obediently, Stacey sank into a comfortable armchair. He disappeared into the bathroom, and then presumably into her bedroom. She could hear him rattling window locks and doorknobs. Stacey laid her head against the chair back and curled her legs under her.

  “You must be exhausted,” Cord said when he returned.

  She nodded. “I am.”

  “I’ll finish fast.” He went to the far right-hand corner, where a door opened to the outside. A long flight of stairs led to the backyard. “I don’t like this.”

  “You don’t like private entrances?”

  “Not when you’re being stalked.”

  Stacey felt herself blanch.

  “I shouldn’t have said that.” He drew in a heavy breath. “I’m not very tactful, I guess.” He stared at her until she wanted to squirm under his keen scrutiny. “You’ve had about all you can take, haven’t you?”

  Again Stacey nodded, too tired to talk.

  Turning back to the door, he yanked several times on the handle. “I want this permanently locked. No one is to go in or out. We can’t risk it being accidentally left open.” When she grimaced, he said, “Sorry. If Matthews usually uses this door, he’ll have to come in the front way.”

  “You don’t like Preston much, do you?”

  “The feeling’s mutual, I think.”

  Stacey couldn’t argue. When she’d walked her fiancé to the door earlier, Preston had been tense...

  “I don’t like McKay being around you this much, Stacey.”

  “What do you suggest I do, Preston? I need his protection. I was run off the road tonight. I’m scared.”

  He’d reached out and pulled her into his arms. Although they were sheltered from view, she’d felt self-conscious, and didn’t want to be held.

  “I don’t like him, Stacey,” Preston had said, tossing his head toward the library, where Cord and her father sat talking. “He’s too rough.”

  Stacey had remembered the tender w
ay Cord had wiped her face with his handkerchief, how he’d held her hand all the way home...

  “Stacey? Where’d you go?” Cord asked.

  “I was thinking about the drive home tonight.”

  Not responding to her comment, he took one last look around. “I think things are okay for now, but tomorrow I’m going to have a lock put on the two doors that lead from the main house to this suite.”

  “All right.”

  Slowly, he came across the room and stood above her. He’d pushed his now-dry hair back with his fingers so it was off his face. The style emphasized the angularity of his jaw and his high cheekbones.

  “I’m sorry you ruined your clothes,” she said, pointing to the mud-spattered navy-and-white-striped shirt and tan Dockers he’d worn to the family fair at his daughter’s preschool. “Do you want to borrow some of my father’s clothes?”

  Cord looked as though she’d asked him to put on a dress. “No, thanks. I had a gym bag in the truck, and pulled it out when I locked up. I have what I need tonight in there. Tomorrow, we’ll get the rest of my stuff.”

  She frowned. “I’m sorry for taking you away from Megan. It’s a horrible thing to do to both of you. Maybe this isn’t the answer.”

  “Let’s not talk about any of this tonight,” he said. “There’ll be a lot to say tomorrow. You’re whipped.” When he reached out his hand, she took it and he tugged her up. “Go on, get changed and into bed.”

  Tilting her head toward the green-striped couch in the living room, she said, “That pulls out to a bed. Lauren stays over a lot and says it’s comfortable.”

  “I’ll be fine. Go to sleep.”

  Despite his order, he didn’t let go of her hand. She squeezed it, then let go, missing the feel of his callused fingertips. “All right.” Tears welled, but she willed them back. God, she’d never been the weepy type. That was Lauren’s style. Her voice husky, she said, “See you tomorrow. Thanks again.”

  Slowly, he lifted his hand to graze her cheek. In contrast to his fingertips, his knuckles were smooth and soothing. Stacey couldn’t decide which she liked better on her skin. She smiled, crossed to the bathroom, then went into her own room.