Heiress Recon

by Carla Cassidy

  He didn’t know how it was possible for him to be so physically attracted to a woman he was so certain he had nothing in common with.

  She was nothing like the ideal woman he wanted to marry someday, and yet he found himself wondering what her lips would taste like and whether her skin was as soft and silky as it looked.

  Last night, in those brief moments he’d held her in his arms, his imagination had been stirred to wonder about things he definitely shouldn’t be wondering.

  “Up ahead on the right is Precious Pets,” she said, breaking the silence that had lingered between them for the last couple of minutes.

  Troy slowed the car to a crawl. He saw the sign by the road first, a big sign depicting a smiling poodle. PRECIOUS PETS—ADOPT A PET TODAY, it read. The establishment itself, a long, low white building, was set back far from the road. The most prominent features on the property were the dozens of large fenced dog runs.

  “My mother died when I was three and left me a large inheritance that I received when I turned twenty-one. The first thing I did was buy this land, forty acres. I knew I wanted to build an animal shelter. That’s my hot date for Saturday,” she said. “Once a year we have a huge open house and adoption day. We’ve been publicizing the event for the last couple of months.”

  “Why an animal shelter?” he asked. “I’d figure if you were going to invest in something it would be a designer shoe factory or the hottest purse maker.”

  “Ah, there you go again, making silly assumptions about my life,” she replied. “I’ve always been an animal lover, and my biggest goal in life has been to rescue those in need and find them good homes.”

  “That’s admirable,” he said grudgingly. It would be so much easier to deal with her if she remained in the box he’d tried to put her in, the box of selfish conceit and superficiality.

  “Dad’s job site is just up ahead,” she said as Troy once again stepped on the gas. They hadn’t gone far when they reached the site. A trailer sat on the lot along with a couple of bulldozers and other heavy equipment.

  Troy parked the car and the two got out. Despite the fact that it was well before noon, the September sun was warm and the scent of rich dark earth filled the air. A rabbit, startled by their approach, darted toward the brush.

  There were no workmen around and apparently the trailer was empty as no one came out to greet them. Behind the area where the earth clearing had begun were thick woods.

  Troy followed just behind Brianna as she walked around. The sun glimmered on her long blond hair, and Troy’s palms itched with the desire to stroke it, to feel it cascade through his fingertips. Brunette. His fantasy woman was definitely a brunette, he told himself.

  He had no idea why she’d wanted to come here, what she thought she might find, but he had a feeling she’d hoped it would be her father, maybe tied to one of the bulldozers or held captive in the trailer.

  As if to confirm his thought, she walked to the trailer and stepped up to the door. She peered into the window and he saw her shoulders slump forward, indicating there was nobody there.

  From the front window she moved to the other windows, looking into each one. She finally turned to face Troy, her face pale with disappointment as she walked back to where he stood. “I thought maybe…” She let her voice trail off.

  “I know,” he replied softly. She had a face that shouldn’t know such profound sadness. Her features were made for laughter, not for grief.

  “Come on, let’s head out. We’ll stop by your house so you can get some things, then we’ll head back to the safe house.”

  They had only taken a couple of steps toward the car when the shot rang out and the ground next to Brianna’s feet kicked up in a puff of dust.

  Troy saw her eyes widen just before he threw himself at her while reaching for the gun in his ankle holster at the same time.

  FOR THE SECOND TIME in a week, Brianna found herself on the ground with a hard male body over hers. Somebody had shot at her. The words screamed through her mind at the same time she realized Troy had a gun in his hand.

  “It came from the woods,” he whispered to her, his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits of gray ice. A fine sheen of perspiration covered his forehead as he remained unmoving for several agonizing moments.

  “On the count of three, I want you to run behind that bulldozer blade.” He indicated the piece of equipment nearby.

  She wanted to scream that she wasn’t moving anywhere, that her body was frozen with such fear, any mobility at all seemed impossible. But she also knew that having the bulldozer blade between her and the woods would be far safer than where they were now.

  “Okay,” she murmured, the single word shaking out of her.

  “One…” His voice whispered in her ear, and every muscle she possessed tensed. “Two. Three!” He rolled off her and began to fire his weapon toward the area where the shot had come from.

  A scream escaped her as she ran for the cover of the bulldozer blade, grateful when Troy made it there, as well.

  She felt as if she were having a heart attack. Her chest ached with the pounding of her heart, and drawing a breath seemed nearly impossible.

  Somebody had shot at her! The words bounced in her head over and over again. Why? Why would any one want to hurt her? None of this made sense.

  She nearly plastered herself against the blade, which smelled of oil and dirt, reassured by the solid metal that protected them.

  Troy held his gun ready. He sat next to her, his back against the blade. She felt a trickle of perspiration trek down her back and knew it wasn’t from the heat but rather from the situation.

  Minutes ticked by, agonizing minutes that made her want to scream. “You think he’s still there?” she finally asked, appalled to hear her voice sound so shrill.

  “I don’t know.” He leaned out to peek around the blade. Brianna screamed as the ping of a bullet hitting the blade resounded.

  “He’s still there,” Troy said, edging behind the protection of the thick metal.

  “What happens now?” she whispered. She wanted to grab his arm, cling to him to assure herself that everything was going to be all right, but she didn’t want to distract him.

  “We need to call the police,” she whispered.

  He grimaced. “My cell phone is in the car.”

  Once again the minutes ticked by. Brianna closed her eyes, wondering why this was happening. Who was out there in the woods with a gun?

  She wished they were back in her father’s office and Troy’s arms were wrapped around her like they were briefly the night before. For just those few moments she’d felt so safe, so protected.

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  “We wait,” he replied.

  “Wait for what?” Once again her voice sounded high-pitched to her own ears.

  “Wait to see what the shooter does next. Unfortunately, we’re in a defensive position here and we can only react to his actions.”

  The sheen of perspiration had become more pronounced across his forehead and his jaw knotted with intense concentration. Brianna felt as if she was about to jump out of her skin.

  She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a truck came roaring down the road and turned in to the site area. Two people got out of the truck, and Brianna was ridiculously pleased to see their familiar faces. “That’s Mike Kidwell and Sandy Cartwright. They work for me at Precious Pets,” she said. “Get down!” she screamed at them.

  They remained in place, perfect targets for anyone who might want to take a shot. “What’s going on?” Mike shouted. “We heard gunshots.”

  “Bree, are you all right?” Sandy asked.

  “I think the shooter is gone now,” Troy said. “But I want you to get up and walk in front of me to your car.”

  She realized he meant to keep his body between her and any potential danger. She might think him a judgmental jerk but at the moment he definitely felt like her very own hero.

  Together they got up, wi
th him keeping her firmly against his chest as they walked toward Mike and Sandy standing at her vehicle.

  She’d expected a volley of more bullets, so she breathed a small sigh of relief as they reached the car and he opened the door and pushed her into the passenger seat. Only then did he turn to introduce himself to Sandy and Mike.

  “We heard the gunfire and came over to see what was going on,” Mike explained, his average features twisted with worry. “There’s been so much trouble here lately. I called the cops. They should be here shortly.”

  Sandy came to the passenger side of the car, her youthful face radiating concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked worriedly. Sandy was twenty-three years old and had worked for Precious Pets as a receptionist for the past three years.

  “I’m fine,” Brianna assured her. She couldn’t help but notice that the young woman had straightened and lightened her brown hair and now wore it like Brianna’s. “I like your new hairstyle.” Shock—it had to be shock that had her focusing on a hairstyle rather than the fact that somebody had shot at them.

  Sandy blushed with obvious pleasure. “I thought it would be fun, you know, for Saturday. There’s going to be a lot of press around that day.”

  “And hopefully plenty of people who want to adopt,” Brianna replied as Troy got into the car.

  She leaned over Troy to speak to Mike, who stood near the driver’s door. “Everything in place for Saturday?” she asked.

  Focus on the adoption day. Focus on the mundane, she told herself. Don’t think about what just happened. God, her legs were shaking, she felt as if she might throw up and she was talking about new hairstyles and dog adoptions.

  “Nothing to worry about,” he assured her. “Everything is under control. Besides, I’d say you have more to worry about with what just happened.”

  “And we’re getting out of here right now,” Troy said as he started the engine with a roar. “We aren’t waiting impatiently around for the police. I’m getting her out of here now. Everything is not under control,” he said tersely as he peeled out of the site and back onto the road.

  “Maybe not, but I’ve got to tell you, the gun in the ankle holster thing? Very James Bond.”

  He braked the car, squealing to a halt in the center of the road, and turned to stare at her incredulously. “I’m so glad you can find humor in the fact that somebody just tried to kill you.”

  Unexpected tears instantly burned her eyes at the sharpness of his tone. “I was trying not to think about it,” she exclaimed. “Because if I think about it, I might scream.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then his gaze softened. “Okay, I get it. For God’s sake, don’t cry.”

  “I’m not,” she replied and quickly swiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

  He took off again and for a few moments they rode in silence. “I don’t understand it,” she finally said. “They have my father. Why would somebody take a shot at me? What do I have to do with anything?”

  Troy’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. “I think what we have to consider is that none of this is about the mall development. None of this is about your father.” He turned and looked at her, his eyes piercing through her. “What we have to consider is that it’s all about you.”

  Chapter Five

  By the time they reached the Waverly house Troy was inwardly cursing himself. Had he been so captivated by the sight of the sun dancing in Brianna’s pale blond hair, by the tight tug of her T-shirt across her breasts, that he hadn’t paid attention to the road behind them?

  Had the shooter followed them to the job site, then parked and taken a position in the woods? Dammit, Troy should have been paying less attention to his sexy companion and more attention to his job of protecting her.

  He stood on the porch with Micah as Brianna ran inside the Waverly house to pack a suitcase. He’d just finished telling Micah about what had happened. “None of this is fitting together,” he said to his partner with a frown. “With Brandon kidnapped, I didn’t really think Brianna was in any danger. If this is about the mall, why would anyone need to hurt her if they already have Brandon?”

  “You’re right. And it doesn’t make sense that we haven’t heard anything more from whoever has Brandon,” Micah replied. “But I can tell you about James Stafford. He’s a community activist, a nasty fellow who has been arrested dozens of times for trespassing and a variety of other misdemeanors.”

  “A misdemeanor does not a kidnapper make,” Troy said dryly.

  “No, but according to my research he’s gotten more daring the last couple of years. Last year he was a person of interest in the death of a man who owned a fur store. Unfortunately there wasn’t enough evidence to arrest him, and the murder went unsolved.”

  This information certainly didn’t put Troy’s mind to rest. “I’m calling Kincaid as soon as we get to the safe house. I don’t care what Heather or Brianna say about it. It’s time to call in the cops.”

  Micah nodded in agreement. “You’re right. It is time to call in some reinforcements.”

  “How’s Heather holding up?”

  “I think she’s swallowing tranquilizers by the handful. She’s spent most of the time I’ve been here in her room.”

  At that moment Brianna came outside, carrying both a suitcase and a computer case. Troy took the suitcase from her. “This is Dad’s laptop,” she said. “Maybe it will have some answers.”

  It was obvious to Troy that she was still focused on this being about her father and his business, despite the fact that he’d mentioned just moments before that it was possibly about her.

  When they arrived back at the safe house, the first thing Brianna wanted to do was take a shower and change her clothes.

  As she disappeared into the bathroom and Troy heard the sound of the water in the bath, he put in a call to the chief of police, Wendall Kincaid.

  The relationship between Kincaid and the three men of Recovery Inc. had initially been contentious, but after Micah was accused of murder and Kincaid had worked with them to clear his name, the relationship had become one of cautious friendship.

  Troy knew he was about to test that friendship by telling Kincaid that the kidnapping had occurred the day before but they were just now contacting him.

  Troy hadn’t told Brianna he was going to call and he certainly hadn’t checked with Heather about his plan. No matter what the two women said, Troy knew it had to be done.

  Just as he’d suspected, Kincaid was livid that they’d waited so long to contact him. “I’m beginning to think that wherever the three of you go, trouble definitely follows,” he exclaimed.

  Troy explained about the threats the kidnapper had made to Heather and the letter Brandon had received from James Stafford, then went on to tell him what had happened at the job site earlier that morning. “I have Brianna in a safe place.”

  “And I don’t suppose you’re willing to tell me where that might be,” Wendall said dryly.

  “That would be a negative,” Troy replied.

  “Okay, I’ll get a team on this right away,” Kincaid replied. “Tell Ms. Waverly that we’ll do everything in our power to make sure the kidnapper doesn’t know that we’re working on this. The first place we’ll start is with James Stafford. We’re all familiar with his terrorist-type tactics.”

  They ended the call just as Brianna came into the kitchen. Once again she was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, this one in a bright pink that advertised Precious Pets. She brought with her the scent of sweet shampoo and the exotic fragrance of her perfume.

  Troy’s stomach instantly knotted with a stir of desire. It irritated him that he found her so damned attractive.

  “I just called the chief of police,” he said, figuring that would make her angry since he hadn’t asked her permission.

  “I’m glad,” she said, surprising him. “It’s obvious we can’t find Dad. Maybe they’ll be able to.” Her blue eyes deepened in hue. “I just hope they’
re low-key enough that the kidnapper doesn’t follow through on the threats he made to Heather.”

  She released a tremulous sigh and reached up to tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you think he’s already dead?” The words came slowly, as if pulled from a dark and horrified place inside her.

  He struggled with what to say. On the one hand, every minute that passed made it more likely that Brandon was dead. On the other hand, he couldn’t possibly be the one to destroy any hope she might be harboring.

  “No,” he finally said. “No, I think he’s still alive. We just have to find him.”

  To his surprise she moved toward him and he saw her need to be held, her need to connect to somebody warm and alive. And he wanted to have her in his arms so badly. He knew it was a mistake, knew he should step back, stop her forward movement. But instead, he opened his arms to her, unable to stop himself even though he knew any physical contact with her wasn’t smart.

  She molded herself to him and curled her arms around his neck, dizzying him with the warmth of her body and her delicious scent. He could feel her breath on his lower jaw, knew that if he dipped his head just a bit he could answer the question of what her lips would taste like.

  He must be a jerk, he thought, for she was seeking comfort and he was responding with lust. It might not be his finest moment, but it was one he wouldn’t trade for the world.

  She didn’t cry, and as her fingers touched the nape of his neck in a caress, every muscle in his body tensed. “Troy?” She softly spoke his name, and when he looked at her and saw her parted lips so close to his own, he knew he was going to kiss her.

  He meant it to be a kind of toss-away kiss, a mere pecking of lips that promised nothing and delivered less. But the minute his mouth touched hers, that intention flew out of the window.

  Soft and hot.

  That was his first thought when their lips met. Her lips were so soft, her mouth so hot, that the idea of anything quick and light instantly fled his mind.