“Doing what?”
“Personal security.”
“You mean bodyguard services?”
“That’s something you’re trained in, right?”
“Yes. The security company I worked for in Denver provided that service.”
“I need another bodyguard.”
“I’m sure Grey could get you the names of some excellent security companies.”
“That’s not what I’m looking for. I already have those kinds of bodyguards. I don’t need another one.”
“Then what are you looking for?”
“I want you to guard my children.”
If he’d told her he was an alien and wanted to take her away to his faraway planet, Eli doubted she would have looked more surprised…or appalled.
The words “not just no, but hell no” were the first that came to Kathleen’s mind. Every instinct she owned was telling her to leave the table and get the hell away from this man. He disturbed her on way too many different levels already. No way, no how, would she ever want to be charged with protecting his children.
Correctly interpreting that she was about to say no, he held up his hand. “Hear me out. My daughters are in school from eight until three thirty. You wouldn’t need to be there with them all day. I already have a man who guards the school. Once they’re home, I can protect them.”
Moving the plate in front of him out of the way, Eli folded his arms on the table. “Truth is, I have three bodyguards for them already.”
“Well, then…?” She looked at him questioningly.
“I want to give my children the most normal life possible. I can’t do that when they’re surrounded by giant, ferocious-looking men. I need someone who’s not going to scare them…someone they can trust.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of female bodyguards who wouldn’t scare them.” Even though she wasn’t even remotely considering taking the job, she had to ask, “Are your children in danger?”
“Yes.”
“Explain.”
“Do you know about my family? About my father and brother?”
She’d spent hours learning about the Slaters over the last few days. Refusing to go too deeply into just how much research she’d done, she just said, “I know before your father was killed and your brother was imprisoned, they were guilty of a lot of things, including conspiracy to commit murder, extortion, money laundering, and pandering.”
“I’ve spent the better part of a year cleaning up their messes. I thought it was over. I had hoped it was behind us, and then I started getting these.”
He pulled some folded papers from his jeans’ pocket and handed them to her.
She read through them, becoming more chilled with each email. She certainly understood his concern.
“Any idea who’s sending them?”
“I have some theories, but nothing’s panned out. Until I know who and why, until I can destroy or neutralize the threat, I want my children under protection.”
“The protection is wise. But why me?”
“I’ve done my research, Kathleen. I know one of your primary jobs in Denver was protecting children.”
“Then you also must know what happened on my last job protecting a child. She almost died.”
“You saved her life. I not only talked to the security company you worked for, I talked to Emily’s parents. They all agreed you saved that little girl’s life.”
Yes, that’s what she’d been told, but if she’d done a better job, her life wouldn’t have had to be saved in the first place. When Alice had admitted that she believed Frank was responsible, Kathleen had reached out to her former employer, as well as Emily’s parents. Though it had sickened her, and she felt even guiltier than she had before, she’d felt the need to let them know.
“I happen to disagree with them, but that’s not the point. I can’t guard your children.” She scooted her chair back, preparing to leave. “Thank you for lunch.”
He grabbed her hand, preventing her from moving. “Why not? You have the credentials. The training.”
“I just don’t want to do that kind of work anymore. And I already have a job.”
“I know you work on a freelance basis with Grey, so you have plenty of flexibility. I would need you at the most four hours a day. An hour or so in the morning when the girls go to school. An hour or so in the afternoon when they get out. Once they’re home, the house with the new security, along with my full-time bodyguards, will protect them.”
“And the weekends? What about then? Don’t they go to parks, or the zoo? Movies? Ice cream shop?”
“They’ll be with me.” He said that with quiet assurance. He could protect his own.
She nodded. “You handled yourself with those thugs in Chicago. Where did you get your training?”
“Mathias, my father, insisted that all his boys know how to defend themselves. The thought of one of us being beaten up by a bully went against everything he believed in. Hell…maybe because he was such a bully himself. I don’t know. I took it a step further when I went to university in England. I got into boxing and then mixed martial arts.”
“Are you weapons trained?”
“Another skill Mathias insisted all his children learn.”
“Your daughters are obviously well protected. Any threats other than the emails? Have you seen anyone loitering at the school? Playgrounds? Anything like that?”
“Not what I would call a specific threat. But at least once a week, sometimes more if it’s a slow news week, a photographer or reporter will pop up. Two of them came after us the other day. Scared Sophia. My personal security can take care of these slimeballs, but I need someone up close and personal. I want someone who can not only protect my daughters, but can do so without scaring them. I want that person to be you.”
She tried to give him another out. “You barely know me. Just because you saw me in the courtroom…you can’t know me.”
“Very well. Tell me about yourself.”
She went to rise, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. His hand was still holding her wrist, and he squeezed gently. She glanced down. The contrast between his large, masculine hand and her small, pale one was a surprise. So was the gentleness, as well as the control.
“Don’t like to talk about yourself? Very well, let me tell you what I know. What I saw in that courtroom was courage, poise, tenacity, and a wealth of love I hadn’t seen in a long while. Your and your sister’s lives were torn apart for public consumption. No stone unturned, no heartache too painful to be bared. Yet you stood there and took it because to do otherwise is not in you.”
“She was my sister,” Kathleen said faintly. “How could I do anything else but?”
“Exactly.”
“What does that have to do with me guarding your children?”
“Nothing other than you’ve got stamina and grit. Qualities I greatly admire.”
“But still—”
“I read some of your college essays. You’re very big on patriotism. The need to protect is instinctive.”
“My essays? How on earth… You had no right to—”
“My children mean the world to me. Whomever I ask to protect them has to be researched thoroughly. Based on those essays, I was surprised you didn’t join the military. And then I thought, no, you wouldn’t. You had to take care of your sister. So you put aside your needs once again.”
“Alice had to come first.”
“Why such a strong affinity for the military? Your father never served, did he?”
“One of my foster fathers did.” She shot him a resentful glare. “Apparently, that’s something you couldn’t dig into.”
“He must have made quite an impression on you.”
“He did. I didn’t have the best experience with foster care. But my last family, Rocky and Georgia Lester, were the best. Rocky was a former marine. He’s the one who taught me how to defend myself. Instilled in me the confidence to succeed.”
“It
must have been hard for you to leave them, when your father was released from prison.”
She still remembered the desolation. She’d been torn between returning to her father and her sister—being a real family again—and leaving the two people who’d come to mean so much to her.
“It was hard, but we kept in touch. They moved to Colorado when Georgia retired from teaching. Rocky opened a security company.”
“That’s why you moved to Denver. To work for him.”
“I thought of them as family.”
“Are they still there?”
“No. Georgia died a couple of years ago. Rocky about a year ago. When he retired, he sold his company to Bankhead Security.”
“I’m sure you miss them.”
The gentleness in his tone pulled her from her memories. She’d never talked about Rocky and Georgia, not even to her father or Alice. Those were her memories to treasure.
She waved her hand as if to wipe away the past. “That has nothing to do with this. There are plenty of female bodyguards who are more than qualified to do this job. You don’t need it to be me.”
“Perhaps. Except it’s you I want. You are the perfect person to do this job.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do it.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
When she didn’t answer, he gave her one of those charming, winning smiles that both warmed and scared her at the same time.
“Look, come with me to pick them up today. If you decide after you meet them that you can’t do it, I won’t argue with you again.”
Once he saw that just because she had the training didn’t mean his kids would take to her, they could move on. He would accept that it wouldn’t work out, and then she would never have to see Eli Slater again.
Refusing to dwell on why that thought disturbed her, she said, “Fine, I’ll meet your daughters.”
The light in his eyes told her he believed he’d already won the argument.
Chapter Twelve
Dark golden liquid swirled in the glass, its murky depths a reflection of the life he lived, the life he’d chosen. Grey took a long swallow of his drink. He rarely drank alcohol, especially at this time of day. Dulling his senses had always seemed like a waste of time to him. If you didn’t like your life—had to drink to cope—then you damn well needed to change your life. Drinking did nothing but add to your problems. But now? Hell, this situation just called for a strong one. Maybe two.
His eyes flickered to the map he’d dropped on the table. He’d told himself a million times that he was wrong. She would never be so bold, so careless…so damn cold. He’d seen her humanity, her heart. He’d seen the guilt she’d suffered. These cold acts of violence went against everything he believed about her. But the evidence was here, staring up at him with accusing knowledge. He couldn’t deny, prevaricate, make excuses. Refusing to face reality would be pointless. He’d heard from all his sources, in both Ireland and England, and they had confirmed his worst fears. She had been seen, identified.
He slammed the glass onto the table, ignoring the slosh of liquid that fell onto the map. Surging to his feet, he strode to the one place he could still feel her presence, the one place where he could still convince himself she wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. Pushing open the door, he stepped into her bedroom and closed it behind him. This time of day, he was alone, but he would take no chances. No one belonged in this room but he and Irelyn.
He had been stupid enough to believe that she might come back to him. That once she dealt with the blow—with the awful thing he’d forced her to do—she would realize there had been no other choice and she would return to him. That had been over a year ago.
Other than his housekeeper, no one had been in this room since she’d left. At one time, he had planned to discard everything, but he hadn’t been able to go through with it. The finality hadn’t been something he could abide. So he’d kept the room just as she liked it. This room embodied Irelyn Raine’s personality more so than anything else he had of her. He hadn’t been able to let go.
Some might think he was being sentimental. Maybe he was. First time for everything, he guessed. Whatever the reason, this room would always be open to her, whether she wanted to be here or not.
He picked up a small porcelain clown, its face both comical and sad. Everywhere they’d traveled, Irelyn had insisted on buying a clown for her collection. He’d known her since they were both in their teens, and in spite of all they’d gone through together, Grey had found her sentimentality charming. There was an enormous amount of depth to Irelyn, and every time he thought he had figured her out, he’d find another layer.
Returning the figurine to the shelf, he surveyed the room. She’d spent a lot of time in here. The cool cream color of the walls and furniture should have clashed with the bold slashes of color in the accent pieces, pillows, and drapery, but they didn’t. Every piece spoke of the many facets of Irelyn Raine.
This room had been her retreat…from the world, yes, but mostly from him. Outside this room, she’d had a role to play. She had been his partner, confidant, co-conspirator, employee, and lover. And she had often called herself his prisoner. But if she retreated to her suite of rooms, he hadn’t bothered her unless there was an emergency. That had been their agreement…their arrangement.
Grey wasn’t one to second-guess his decisions. He wouldn’t do so now. What he had made her do that night had been for her benefit—even more so than his. Of course, she hadn’t seen it that way. Might never see it that way. Yes, he had wanted the bloody prick dead. Hill Reed had been a dark shadow in his and Irelyn’s past. One that had been long overdue for elimination. Assassin, contract killer, defiler of innocents, the bastard had gotten what he deserved. But as much as Grey had wanted the man dead, Irelyn had been the only one who had deserved the privilege of killing him.
She had seen the act in a completely different light.
If Grey had one wish about that night—one do-over—he wouldn’t have made her watch. He would’ve come in before the man died and taken her away. Watching him struggle for air and then breathe his last breath had almost destroyed her. It had most certainly destroyed them.
The chime at his front door pulled him from his regret and from the room. Reviewing past sins didn’t do a damn bit of good. What was done was done.
He opened the door, pleased to see the glowing couple in front of him. Marriage looked good on them. “How was the honeymoon?”
Kennedy Gallagher flashed a bright smile as she walked in beside her new husband. “I can attest that the last part was lovely. You’ll have to ask Nick about the first part, though, as I was in the bathroom most of the time.”
Sending his wife an amused, loving look, Nick shook his head. “Let’s just say I got caught up on all the television shows I’ve missed over the last couple of years.”
Grey chuckled as he led the newlyweds into his office. Though the wedding had taken place last year, they had postponed their honeymoon until after Adam Slater’s trial. When they were certain that Adam would rot in prison for the murder of Thomas O’Connell, Kennedy’s first husband, they’d planned to enjoy an extended honeymoon. Two days before they were scheduled to leave, they’d learned that Kennedy was pregnant. Postponing again wasn’t something either one of them had wanted to do.
“Feeling better now?” Grey asked.
“Feeling wonderful,” Kennedy answered. “Nick was worried…” She shook her head. “We were both worried because of what happened before, so I saw a doctor in Madrid. He agreed with my doctor here. The pregnancy is normal, as is the nausea.”
“I’m glad.” Grey led them to a sofa and then seated himself across from them.
“Your phone call sounded serious. Has something happened? Are Eli and Jonah okay?”
It was a testament to the character of Kennedy and Nick that they cared. Many people lumped all the Slaters together, and either hated them or revered them as one entity. But this couple, who’d been through so mu
ch because of two of the Slaters, held no grudge or resentment for the rest of the family. They knew where the evil had existed.
“They’re both fine. Sorry to worry you. Not much has changed.”
Grey didn’t mention the threats Eli was dealing with. They were being handled.
“And Eleanor and Lacey? They’re still in France?”
“Yes. I doubt that will change anytime soon. Mathias’s death, along with learning what he did to Jonah, isn’t something Eleanor will recover from, but hopefully she’ll learn to deal.”
“What about Irelyn?” Kennedy asked. “Any word from her?”
Would Irelyn be surprised by the concern in Kennedy’s eyes? Probably. With their lifestyle and need for secrecy, neither Grey nor Irelyn had ever developed the kind of close personal relationships that most people enjoyed. Forming relationships…friendships was just too damn normal for them.
“No. I’ve not heard from her.”
The disappointment in his wife’s face was apparent, and Nick took her hand and squeezed it gently. Looking over at Grey, he said, “So this is another matter? You have a job for one or both of us?”
Nick had become an operative for the Grey Justice Group a while ago, but Kennedy, who had been working for the Slaters in an undercover capacity, had only recently agreed to work for Grey as well. Gallagher was a former homicide detective, Kennedy a highly skilled researcher.
“A job for you both.” The murder file lay on the coffee table between them. He slid it forward. “I want you both to investigate a murder.”
While Kennedy reviewed the file, Nick stared at him with the keen eyes of a cop. He would know there was more to the case than mere words on the page.
Grey had already decided what he could share. “The victim, if one could call him that, is Bobby O’Leary. Born in Dublin, Ireland. Raised by his granny until he was about ten. Once his grandmother died, he found a way to avoid detection, became a street punk. By the time he was sixteen, he’d raped and killed several women. He then met up with a man who showed him that what Bobby liked to do for fun could be a profitable business.”
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