“You want kids?”
He nodded. “Someday, sure. I definitely want a family. What about you?”
“Definitely kids, at least two. I always wished my mom and dad would have had a chance to give me either an older or a younger sibling. Growing up as an only child can be so lonely.”
“There were times I wished I were an only child,” he replied with a grin.
She smiled. “And you have your friendships with Lucas and Micah. Must be nice,” she said with a touch of wistfulness. “Growing up it was just me and my dad, and I didn’t have many friends.”
“But surely you have lots of friends in California,” he replied.
She frowned. “I have party friends, people who like to be seen with me, who hope their picture will be taken with me. I have people who use me to get invited to a party, or who want to hang out because I’m Bree. To be honest, I’d hate to have to depend on any of them for anything.”
She laughed and waved a hand as if to dismiss her words. “I was sitting here last night and thinking that I’m the cliché of the poor little rich girl who has no friends. I don’t trust that the people around me have my best interests at heart. I’ve learned to be cautious about relationships.”
Troy understood what she was saying. There were many positives about being wealthy, but that was one of the negatives—the fear that whoever entered your life did so because of money and not because of you. The fear was very real because the possibility was very real.
“You’re probably thinking I’m being a whiny brat,” she continued.
“No, not at all. I know exactly what you’re talking about.” He hesitated a moment, old memories nudging him. “There was a woman when I was young, before I joined the service. I thought I was in love with her and I thought she loved me, too. I asked her to marry me and she said yes, and I started to plan our future together.”
It had been one of the most painful experiences of his life, but he was surprised that the memory no longer hurt, that either enough time had passed or he had gained enough maturity to erase the heartache he’d felt at the time.
“I don’t know who started the rumor,” he continued, “but word got out that my family had lost a ton of money in a stock market deal. It wasn’t true, but apparently Holly, my new fiancée, thought it was. She immediately broke off the engagement, and I realized then that she hadn’t loved me, she’d loved the lifestyle she thought my money could buy for her.”
“Oh, Troy, I’m so sorry for you.” Brianna’s eyes were dark with compassion.
He smiled. “Don’t be. She actually did me a favor. Right after the breakup I joined the Navy and the rest, as they say, is history.”
Even though she was nothing like the woman he eventually wanted to spend his life with, it surprised him how easy it was to talk to Brianna. There was an openness about her, a comfortable give-and-take that was far too appealing.
After breakfast Brianna returned to the task of checking files on her father’s laptop, and Troy called Lucas at the Waverly house to see if there’d been any new developments. There were none. He then called Kincaid to see what leads the authorities had, but Wendall had nothing concrete. So Troy went back to the master bedroom where he had been sleeping and where there was a computer on a desk.
He sat at the desk and powered up the computer, hoping that he could find a picture of the community center where the meeting would be held that evening.
If he were going to provide protection for Brianna against an unknown threat, he’d prefer to get a handle on the layout of the place.
Thank God for technology, he thought as he found the appropriate Web page that not only offered the prices of renting the community building, but also showed views of both the inside and outside.
He studied the pictures for a long time, memorizing the floor plans and considering options. Even though he had no reason to believe that anyone would try to hurt Brianna in the middle of a public meeting, a heavy knot of apprehension twisted in his gut.
He just had a bad feeling about the whole thing, but he knew a bad feeling wouldn’t be enough to keep Brianna away.
His bad feeling still weighed him down at six-thirty that evening when they got ready to leave the house. He wore a pair of dress pants and a short-sleeved white dress shirt. Brianna was clad in a royal blue dress that thankfully wasn’t as short or as sexy as the little black number she’d worn on the night he’d had dinner at the Waverly house.
“Nervous?” he asked once they were in the car and pulling out onto the highway. He checked his rearview mirror, making sure nobody was following them. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to know where she was stashed for now.
“Not really.” She clutched the file folder of notes she’d prepared. “I just want to do what Dad would have done if he’d been here, calm the crowd and assure them that the mall is a good thing.”
“You think you’ll be able to do that?”
“I think part of the problem is when people hear the word mall, they think of this huge monstrosity with thousands of parking spaces and a hundred shops. That’s not what this is going to be. It was just going to be six or eight shops, and Dad was hoping to bring in a restaurant and grocer for the convenience of everyone who currently has to drive some distance to eat out or buy groceries.”
She frowned and stared out the window, and Troy knew her thoughts were on her missing father. Troy tightened his grip on the steering wheel and wished there was something he could say to ease her worry, but anything he might say would be nothing more than empty platitudes. And Brianna was smart enough to recognize them for what they would be—worthless.
Troy didn’t see a happy ending to any of this. The fact that Brandon had been missing for three days with no contact from the kidnapper led him to believe that Brandon Waverly would eventually be found dead. He knew that Brianna’s grief would break his heart.
The community center was located not far from the mall site. It was a small brick building, and despite the fact that they were early, Troy was surprised to see that the parking lot was already filled with cars. There was an overflow area on the opposite side of the road and he pulled in there to park.
“Now I’m a little bit nervous,” she confessed. “There are more people here than I expected.”
He grinned at her. “I can’t believe it. Bree Waverly, one of the paparazzis’ favorites, is nervous about getting up in front of a bunch of people?”
“Bree isn’t here at the moment. It’s just me, plain old Brianna,” she replied. “And all I want to do is make things better for when my dad gets back home.”
If her dad got back, Troy thought as he got out of the car and came around to the passenger side. As she stood, he immediately wrapped an arm around her as his gaze shot from side to side, seeking any potential threats.
He hurried her toward the building, breathing a bit easier when they got through the front doors. Just inside an off-duty police officer greeted them.
He introduced himself as Ben Tremain. He’d been hired by Brandon the week before to attend the meeting in case there were problems. His presence went a long way in easing some of Troy’s concerns. Surely Brianna would be safe here with ordinary people surrounding them and a police officer as well as Troy watching over her.
The community center consisted of two rooms, the large meeting space and a smaller kitchen area. Chairs were arranged theater-style facing a wooden podium, and behind the podium were a couple of chairs. Troy led her there, away from the crowd milling about at the back of the room.
They sat side by side and watched as more people arrived. “You see anybody you know?” he asked. He was tense, on edge and ready to respond to anyone who tried to get too close to her.
His tension grew as he saw a tall, dark-haired man enter the room. James Stafford. Troy recognized him because he’d done a little research into the community activist that afternoon on the Internet.
Stafford was dressed in a business suit, but the nice fi
t and expensive material didn’t take away from his thuglike appearance. He carried himself with an arrogant swagger and greeted most of the people in the room by their first names.
When he started toward the front of the room where Troy and Brianna were seated, Troy stood and took several steps forward, presenting himself as a barrier between the man and Brianna.
“And you are?” Stafford asked, meeting Troy’s gaze with a hint of challenge.
“Troy Sinclair, and I know who you are, Mr. Stafford.”
James flashed a grin that displayed a chipped front tooth. “I’m the man who is going to shut down this operation.” He looked over Troy’s shoulder to Brianna. “Where’s your daddy, girl? He afraid to show his face to these good people?”
Troy narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t you take a seat, Mr. Stafford. The meeting is going to begin in just a few minutes.”
Troy held James’s stare for a long moment, then the big man stepped back and took a seat in the front row. Troy returned to the chair next to Brianna’s.
“That’s James Stafford,” he whispered to her.
“He asked why Dad isn’t here. I guess he doesn’t have anything to do with the kidnapping.”
Either that or the man was cunning, Troy thought. It looked like it was going to be a tough crowd. No smiles were cast in their direction, and even though it was crazy, Troy felt himself nervous on Brianna’s behalf.
It was as if James Stafford sitting down was a signal for the rest of the group to take their seats. Once everyone had found a chair, silence descended and Brianna stood.
A little bit of Troy’s tension eased as he perused the group. Mostly it was gray-haired men in overalls with white-haired women at their sides. The only person who looked half-dangerous was James Stafford, and Troy intended to watch the man carefully.
“Good evening,” Brianna began. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Brandon Waverly’s daughter, Brianna.” If she was nervous her voice didn’t betray it. She spoke loud and strong, without a single quiver.
“Where’s your father?” James called from his front row seat. “Is he afraid to be here and face these good people?” Several people raised their voices in support of Stafford.
Brianna held up a hand. “My father couldn’t be here tonight, but I’m here to discuss your concerns and answer any questions you might have.”
And for the next two hours, that’s what she did. As she told them about the mall her father had envisioned, Troy thought of the conversation they’d shared that afternoon.
She’d told him that she was a cliché of the poor little rich girl, but he had made her a cliché in the way he had stereotyped her without knowing much of anything about her.
He’d had her pegged as shallow, as a shopping, partying machine who cared about little else. He’d been wrong.
She was far more complicated a woman than he’d initially thought. Devoted to her father, brave to the point of near recklessness, she touched something in him, something more than sharp, hot desire.
As she continued to talk, he sensed the mood of the crowd changing, and he realized she was slowly winning them over.
“I just don’t see why we need a restaurant around here,” one old man exclaimed.
“Wouldn’t you enjoy going someplace where you can get a nice slice of roast beef or a piece of apple pie?” Brianna asked him.
“I can stay home and get that,” he replied and looked at the woman next to him. “Emma here makes the finest apple pie in the county.”
“But maybe Emma is tired of making pies. Maybe she’d like to be taken out someplace where she can just sit and relax and somebody else waits on her,” Brianna countered.
“You got that right,” Emma quipped and then blushed.
Everyone laughed and Brianna grinned. “I’ll tell you what—when the restaurant is complete, I’ll make sure you two have a lovely dinner on me.”
“You can’t bribe these people to make it right,” Stafford exclaimed and jumped to his feet.
“Yes, she can,” somebody yelled from the back, and again the room erupted in laughter.
Stafford returned to his seat, his dark eyes narrowed in disgust. He obviously wasn’t happy with the tone the meeting had taken.
Troy wondered if the community activist had hidden Brandon away someplace. Had the kidnapping been so that Brandon couldn’t make this meeting and so that the tension between the people and the builder would increase?
If that were the case, was it possible that Brandon would be released in the morning? Was Stafford a man who would resort to murder as a means to an end? Time would tell.
It was after nine and darkness had fallen when the meeting finally drew to an end. Troy was surprised to realize that he was proud of Brianna, proud of how she’d handled the crowd, of the intelligent answers she’d given.
She’d gone a long way in waylaying the fears that somehow the mall would bring in criminal elements and trouble. Instead she’d made the people see the benefits the small mall would bring to the area.
Troy remained seated next to her as the crowd dispersed. He didn’t want her mingling, hadn’t forgotten that somebody had tried to stab her in the middle of a crowd in California.
When there was nobody left inside except Ben, Troy and Brianna stood to leave. “You did a great job, Ms. Waverly,” Ben said as the three walked to the door.
“Thanks. I think it went pretty well,” she replied. Her cheeks were flushed with color and her eyes sparkled with a winner’s confidence. She’d never looked so lovely.
“Good night now,” Ben said at the door.
“Good night,” they replied and stepped out into the balmy night air.
The parking lot was empty except for one car, and as they started across the property to the overflow lot across the highway, James Stafford stepped out of the building shadows.
“You win this round, Ms. Waverly, but don’t think you’ve won the war.”
Troy stepped closer to Brianna as he heard the ugly tone in Stafford’s voice. He didn’t like the fact that the man had waited until everyone had left to confront them.
“We aren’t at war,” Brianna replied coolly. “It’s called progress, Mr. Stafford. Eventually retail shops are going to come to that area of the city. It’s inevitable. The city is expanding northward at a rapid rate. These people can either deal with my father, who is trying to be sensitive to their needs, or they can deal with another developer who simply won’t care what feathers he ruffles.”
She continued to impress Troy with her intelligence, with the way she met Stafford’s glare directly. She looked like a lean, dainty warrior.
“I’m not concerned about years from now. I’m worried about right now,” Stafford replied, his gaze narrowed with menace.
“I think, Mr. Stafford, that what you like is publicity and getting your name and picture in the papers,” Brianna replied.
The big man snorted. “Takes one to know one,” he replied.
“I’m done here,” she said and started toward the far parking lot.
As Stafford started after her, Troy stepped in front of the man. “I wouldn’t do that,” he said in a low, calm voice. “In fact, if I were you I’d make sure I stay as far away from Brianna Waverly as I possibly could.” For all Troy knew, this was the man who had kidnapped Brandon and was holding him someplace…or worse.
Before Stafford could reply, the air filled with the sound of a revving engine and the sudden squeal of tires. Troy turned and looked toward the highway. His blood iced, freezing him in place for a moment, as a car appeared out of nowhere and raced toward Brianna, who stood frozen in the center of the road like a deer caught in bright headlights.
“Brianna!” he screamed.
The car didn’t swerve or slow down as it roared toward her, and then it was gone—and so was she.
Chapter Seven
Brianna careened down an embankment, crying out as her body slammed against rocks and debris. She thought she was g
oing to fall forever, but she finally came to a stop, her heart pounding painfully fast.
She didn’t move, was afraid that any movement would hurt. Had she broken bones? She was scared to find out.
The stars overhead winked down at her as she remained on her back. If she hadn’t jumped when she had, she’d be dead. Whoever had been driving that car had meant to kill her.
“Brianna!”
Troy’s frantic voice split the silence of the night.
“Over here,” she managed to reply.
She heard him careening down the embankment, and tears blurred her vision as she realized just how close death had come.
She’d felt the heat of the car, smelled the fumes as it had missed her by mere inches. The headlights had been blinding, and she’d been helplessly frozen in the glare of death.
Troy reached where she lay, and he bent down over her, his features obscured by the moonlight at his back. “Are you all right?” What she couldn’t see on his face she heard in his voice—a low, rich fear.
“I don’t know. I think so.” She started to sit up.
“Don’t move. We need to call for an ambulance,” Troy said.
“No, I’m fine,” she assured him. As she managed to sit up, she realized that James Stafford stood just behind Troy.
“Is she okay?” he asked as if Brianna wasn’t present.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, realizing she didn’t seem to have any broken bones. Troy helped her to her feet, his arm firmly around her for support.
“You know I didn’t have anything to do with this, right?” Stafford asked, clearly worried. “I don’t work this way.”
Brianna felt the tension in Troy’s body as he half carried her back up to the top of the deep ditch. Stafford followed behind them. Troy led her to the car, opened the passenger seat and helped her ease inside, then he turned back to the tall activist.
“Did you see what kind of car it was?” he asked.
Stafford shook his head. “It all happened so fast and it was so dark. All I saw were the headlights and her frozen in the middle of the road.”
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