Bodyguards Boxed Set

by Julianne MacLean

  “Your gifts make your opinion worth more than most people’s.” He caught the waitress’s eye. “Check?”

  India raked a hand through her hair. “I feel so helpless, Alden. An innocent man is in jail, charged with arson and murder. I keep thinking there’s something I should do.”

  “What could you possibly do?” He took the check, plucked some bills from his wallet, and fanned them neatly on the white tablecloth.

  She shrugged. “Try to figure out who really committed those crimes?”

  “Keep the change, Mary,” he told the waitress as she scooped up the bills.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lorillard.”

  As the waitress walked away, Alden said, “You can’t be serious. Don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

  “Do I have any choice?” she asked. “Everyone just assumes Tommy is guilty. But my powers give me access to information that’s not available to everyone else. Maybe I should use them to try to identify the real Firefly. And the real murderer.”

  “Perhaps they’re one and the same,” Alden said, stubbing out his cigarette.

  “Perhaps they are. Who’s in a better position to find out than me?”

  “Who indeed?” They rose. Alden took her shearling coat from the back of her chair and held it open for her. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I will.”

  * * *

  THAT EVENING JAMIE stood on the front porch of India’s house, feeling absurdly nervous over the prospect of ringing her doorbell. Finally he took a deep breath, let it out, and pressed the little button. After what seemed like an eternity, the porch lights went on and the door opened.

  Her eyes glowed like burnished gold coins when she saw who it was. “Jamie.” A hint of something—happiness?—softened her features, but only briefly. She swiftly shuttered her expression, her hand unconsciously reaching up to close the collar of her oversize white shirt—the same shirt she had worn the night they’d made love.

  He cleared his throat. “You should ask who it is before you open the door. I could have been anybody. I could have been Tommy Finn.”

  “Tommy Finn’s in jail.”

  “Not anymore. He made bail late this morning.”

  She blinked. “But I thought you said he couldn’t afford his bail.”

  “He couldn’t. Alden Lorillard posted it for him.” She just stared at him. “Can I come in?”

  She stepped aside and he entered the foyer. “I should have known,” she murmured. “I should have realized that’s what he intended to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had breakfast with Alden this morning. He wanted my opinion about Tommy—although it seemed to me he was half convinced of his innocence already. He just wanted me to confirm what he was already thinking.” She raised her chin defiantly. “But I’m not ashamed for having confirmed it, and I’m glad he bailed Tommy out.”

  Jamie chose his words with care, not wanting to alienate her before he’d even had a chance to try and patch things up. “Darlin’, I know you have your reasons for thinking Tommy’s innocent. But I’m afraid you may have gotten your wires crossed somewhere along the line.” He pulled the folded-up photocopy out of his coat pocket and handed it to India. “This came a couple of hours after he was released.”

  India unfolded the note and read it. She actually paled slightly, and for a moment Jamie regretted having shown it to her. She read the note out loud. “‘This one will light up the night sky. They’ll see it in outer space. You’ll be telling your grandchildren about me.’” She looked up at Jamie, her expression guarded. “Where’s Tommy now?”

  “Gone. Disappeared from the face of the earth the moment we let him go, near as I could tell.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath, refolded the note, and handed it to him. “Did you come here just to see the expression on my face when you told me all this?”

  “I came here to spend the night,” he said, shrugging off his trench coat. Her eyes widened and then narrowed. “Purely in my capacity as a public servant. Tommy’s on the loose again, and he may still feel you pose a threat to him. I’m here to protect and defend. Nothing more.”

  He hung his coat up in the front closet, then unbuttoned his suit jacket; he’d come here straight from work, not bothering to change into comfortable clothes.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Couldn’t you have gotten Len or somebody to watch over me? Do you have to do this yourself?”

  “Absolutely.” He took her by her shoulders and implored her with his eyes to meet his gaze. “This is my job, my responsibility. I have to make sure you’re kept safe.” He kissed the top of her head. “It would kill me if anything happened to you.”

  She took a step back. “I was just about to go upstairs and watch TV for a while before I go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, Jamie.”

  He slid his hands slowly down her arms, and then released her. “Good night.”

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER, Jamie knocked softly on her bedroom door, rehearsing in his mind the things he would say to her. The past four days without you have been hellish for me, India. I’ve been so sure of myself, so wrapped up in my idea of what’s possible and what’s not. All I’m sure of now is that I need you—more than I’ve ever needed anyone or anything in my life. Talk to me. Tell me about your gifts. I’ll try to believe, I swear to God. I’ll listen with a totally open mind. Just talk to me.

  His knocks having gone unanswered, he quietly swung the door open and crossed the room, his gaze on the big, spindle-backed bed. India lay fast asleep against a pile of pillows atop the undisturbed white comforter, the remote control cradled in her hand. The TV was still on, although the sound was off; its cold light flickered over her, making her ivory skin even paler and giving a bluish cast to her white satin nightgown.

  When he got closer, he saw that the nightgown’s bodice had a triangle of translucent netting sewn into it, revealing the rounded inner swells of her breasts. At one edge of the insert he could just make out part of a dusky nipple. The urge to reach out and touch it was almost irresistible. He wanted to lie down next to her and pull her into his arms, lift her nightgown and bury himself deep inside her. His need was sudden and overwhelming—almost painful.

  Better get out of here, Keegan. He unfolded the blanket at the foot of the bed and draped it over her, then leaned down and gently kissed her cheek. A soft murmur escaped her, and he saw her chest begin to rise and fall more rapidly.

  Forget it, Keegan. Get out. Jamie carefully slid the remote out of her hand, turned off the TV, and went back downstairs.

  * * *

  INDIA AWOKE AND sat up in the dark, breathless and intensely aroused. “My God,” she whispered, dragging her hands through her hair. “Was that a dream?” She replayed it in her mind—Jamie coming to her in her bed, lifting her gown, taking her with desperate abandon. She had absorbed his raging need; it had become her own need, her own overwhelming hunger.

  Switching on the bedside lamp, she noticed the blanket over her and realized Jamie had been there. Had he touched her? Was that what had spawned that incredible dream? She held her hands out; they quivered. Her entire body seemed to vibrate with sexual energy. Her breasts ached; she could feel the heat and dampness between her legs.

  There was half a bottle of Chablis in the fridge, left over from a chicken-in-wine dish she’d made for Jamie last week. A glass of that might be just what she needed to get her relaxed enough to go back to sleep. Tossing aside the blanket, she rose and threw on her kimono, then crept silently downstairs and into the darkened kitchen. She opened the refrigerator, blinking at the glaring light. The wine turned out to be hidden behind a barricade of milk containers and juice bottles on the top shelf, and it took her a minute to get it out.

  She shut the door and turned, then gasped, nearly dropping the bottle. Jamie stood watching her from the kitchen doorway, lit from behind by the hall light. He’d shed his suit jacket
. His tie was loosened, his shoulder holster very black against his white shirt.

  She backed up against the refrigerator, unable to wrest her eyes from his as he walked toward her. Feeling suddenly short of breath, she held the bottle up as he came to stand over her. “Would you like some wine?”

  “No,” he said quietly, taking the bottle from her and setting it on the counter. He held her gaze for a moment, and she saw a raw desire in his eyes that was more than a match for her own. When he reached for the silken sash at her waist, she made no move to stop him from untying it, although she knew she should. The kimono slid open. She shivered with longing as his big hands closed over her swollen breasts, squeezing gently. The cold air from the refrigerator had chilled her; she felt his heat through her nightgown and moaned softly.

  He glided a hand toward her lower belly. “Jamie...”

  “Shh.” He kissed her deeply as he caressed her through the liquid-smooth satin, his touch igniting her already sensitive flesh. He seized her hand and molded it to the front of his trousers, guiding it up the length of his erection. Her body flared with a lightning flash of arousal. She needed him inside her. Now. Nothing else mattered.

  He unzipped his fly and closed her fingers around his straining shaft, hard as polished marble. Raising her gown, he slipped a hand between her thighs, growling deep in his throat to find her already wet.

  With swift, sure movements, he lifted her and wrapped her legs around him, supporting her under her hips. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and held on, groaning as he filled her, crushing her hard against the refrigerator with a single stabbing thrust. Already on the verge of climax, she bucked against him, moaning his name.

  “Oh, India. Yes!” He withdrew his full length and drove in again, and a convulsive pleasure grabbed hold of her, shaking her senseless. His thrusts grew fierce and quick as the tremors rippled through her. The refrigerator rocked under the assault, creaking in time to his harsh breathing and her breathless cries. Soon she felt the hot surge of his own release within her, heard his low, ragged groan of completion.

  His arms trembled as he held her, his breathing gradually becoming steady. India became aware of a sharp pain in her chest and realized his gun had dug into her. “Jamie,” she said, looking down at the livid red indentations on her skin.

  “Oh!” He bent down and kissed the angry marks. “You’ll have bruises.” He eased her down onto her feet and adjusted their clothing. Something seemed to occur to him as he zipped up his fly, and he grimaced. “I didn’t wear a condom.”

  “I didn’t think of it, either,” she said, feeling weak-willed and remorseful. The situation had slipped out of her control again, and that shamed her. “I didn’t think at all.”

  “Neither did I. I’m not sorry, though. I mean, I’m sorry that I didn’t use protection, and that I hurt you—” he lightly touched the marks on her chest “—but I’m not sorry it happened.” She studied the floor. “You’re sorry,” he said, his voice tight with emotion.

  “I don’t know how I feel. I’m confused.”

  “You weren’t confused a couple of minutes ago. You knew just what you wanted. So did I.”

  “What I want and what’s best for me aren’t necessarily the same.”

  He cupped her cheek. “Aren’t they?”

  “No. This was a mistake. This shouldn’t have happened.”

  “India...” He tilted her chin up, but she turned her head to the side before he could kiss her.

  “Let me go, Jamie.”

  She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm. “We need to talk.”

  She wrested out of his grip. “We have talked.”

  “India!”

  She left the kitchen and climbed the stairs. He called after her once, but didn’t follow her.

  * * *

  THE PHONE WOKE India up. She groaned as she fumbled for the receiver, wondering why she bothered, since it was probably for Jamie. “Hello,” she mumbled as she heard the downstairs extension bang lifted; Jamie was listening in.

  “India? It’s Alden.”

  “Alden?” India sat up and looked at the digital clock on her night table. It was 3:24 a.m.

  “I know, I know,” he said with a rueful chuckle. “I feel awful bothering you in the middle of the night, but I’ve got a... rather unusual situation I’m dealing with here, and it seems you’re the only one who can help.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Are you aware that I posted bail for Tommy Finn this morning?”

  “Yes. That was quick work. It may be tacky to ask, but how’d you come up with the money so fast? I was led to understand... well...”

  “That my business is failing?”

  “I’m sorry, Alden. It’s none of my—”

  “Nonsense, my dear. You’re like a daughter to me. The fact is, I had to call in a favor and borrow the money from a friend.”

  She raked her fingers through her hair. “Well, I hope you get it back. Are you aware that Tommy disappeared as soon as he was released?”

  “Yes, and I know about the new arson note. Tommy didn’t send it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve always prided myself on my ability to judge human nature, India. Tommy Finn is innocent.” She heard him take a deep breath. “And he wants to prove it.”

  “What are you saying? Are you in contact with him?”

  “He called me about an hour ago and asked me to meet him at my warehouse. That’s where I am now—we’re both here. He has some evidence that could exonerate him, but I told him he should let you give it a psychic reading first, to make sure it’s what he thinks it is.”

  “What? I don’t under—”

  “It’s difficult to explain over the phone. You’d have to see it. I’d like you to come down to the warehouse and take a look at it, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Now?”

  “Tommy’s in hiding, India. He’s afraid of showing himself during the day. I know it’s asking a lot. But an innocent man’s life is at stake.”

  India chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. She didn’t relish the prospect of this clandestine meeting in the wee hours of the morning, especially considering the fact that she was no longer unequivocally convinced of Tommy’s innocence. But if he was innocent, and she could help him... Alden would be there, she reminded herself. She wouldn’t be alone with Tommy; the risk wasn’t really so great. “Okay. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  “I knew I could count on you.”

  India stripped off her nightgown and was half-dressed by the time Jamie knocked on her door a minute later.

  “Go away!” she called.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he opened the door and walked in. He’d put his suit jacket and trench coat back on.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  Glancing at her black leggings and pink lace bra, he said, “I was about to ask you the same question.”

  “You listened in on the call.” She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on a sock. “You know where I’m going.”

  He stalked toward her. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  She slipped on the other sock. “Well, you don’t.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Before she could register his actions, he whipped a pair of handcuffs out from under his trench coat and grabbed her right hand.

  “What are you doing?” she shrieked as he snapped a cuff around her wrist.

  “I should think that’d be fairly obvious.” He brought her hand toward the bed’s headboard and fastened the other cuff to one of the wooden spindles.

  She yanked at the cuff; the heavy stainless steel dug into her wrist. “Damn you, Jamie! Unlock this thing! Let me go!”

  “It’s for your own good, darlin’. Not to mention being a most flattering accessory for that particular outfit.” He trailed his fingertips down her throat and over a lace-covered breast. “You wouldn’t believe how sexy you look right now.”

&n
bsp; “I hate you!” She balled her left hand into a fist and swung it toward his face.

  He seized her wrist before the blow could connect, and smiled. “I’m sorry to hear that, ‘cause I’m head over heels in love with you.”

  She stared at him, thunderstruck.

  “You didn’t realize I was falling in love with you?”

  “I... I don’t know.”

  “You don’t have to say it back,” he said. “You just have to let me do this.” Taking her face between his hands, he kissed her with fierce passion.

  He released her, and she drew in an unsteady breath as he walked away. “Jamie, please unlock these cuffs before you leave.”

  Pausing in the doorway, he gave her a quick once-over and grinned devilishly. “Darlin’, I may not even unlock them when I get back.”

  For about ten minutes after Jamie left, India worked on trying to slip her hand through the cuff, reasoning that she was a good deal smaller-boned than the average felon, and might have a shot. All she got for her troubles, however, was a badly abraded hand.

  She looked around for anything within reach that might be of help, and her gaze lit on the stacks of wooden cases on the mantel—specifically the flat, brass-trimmed one that housed the Cossack dagger. Could she successfully pick the lock on the handcuffs with it? Probably not. Did she have to try? Absolutely. Alden and Tommy would be there at the Lorillard Press warehouse, waiting for her, only to have Jamie show up instead. What would he do when he found Tommy? Take him back into custody, most likely. They’d trusted her, and she felt as if she’d unwittingly betrayed them by letting Jamie eavesdrop on that call. She had to free herself and get to the warehouse as soon as possible.

  Her right hand was shackled to a spindle fairly close to the edge of the headboard. Standing, she was able, by stretching her left arm as far as it would go, to just barely touch a corner of the mantel; the case she wanted was unreachable by about a foot. With an exasperated whimper, she threw herself at the mantel, only to howl in pain as the cuff bit into her already raw flesh.

  The wrought iron stand that held the fireplace tools was also out of reach, but by extending her leg, she found she could hook a stockinged foot around it and tug it toward her. It toppled forward, the tools clattering onto the slate hearth. The poker landed nearest to her; she caught the hooked tip with her toe and dragged it close enough to grab.