Protect Me (The Donovan Family Book 6)

by Margaret Watson

  Doug's eyebrows rose. "So she called in people she knew she could trust." His gaze softened as he studied Brendan and Cilla. "I knew I made a good choice with her." He nodded at the food cart. "Either of you take a look at what's in there?" He turned to Finn when Brendan and Cilla shook their heads. "Did you or Mia look?" He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket.

  "Yeah," Finn said, eyeing the silver domes as if they hid weapons of mass destruction. "I took them off, sat down to eat. I was starving. I almost ate some of the salad, but Mia knocked the fork out of my hand. She'd realized the bellboy who delivered the food wasn't Josh.

  "Then she covered the food again. Said we needed to wait for the evidence technicians."

  Doug snapped the gloves through his hands as he studied the cart. "Yeah," he sighed. "She's right." He glanced at Brendan and Cilla. "Sometimes I miss being on the street."

  Brendan shifted closer to Cilla, but neither of them spoke.

  Another knock at the door, and Cilla checked the spy hole again before she opened it. A young woman carrying a bag stepped into the room, her badge on a chain around her neck. She nodded at the cart. "That the food that needs to be tested?"

  "Yes, it is," Doug said.

  The woman glanced at Doug and froze. "Superintendent Walsh," she said. Her gaze shifted behind him to Finn, and her eyes widened.

  "We want to keep this low profile, Officer," Doug said. "You need to keep Finn's identity, and what you're doing here tonight, to yourself."

  "Yes, sir," she said. Her knuckles whitened on the handle of her rectangular bag. "Okay if I get started?"

  "Please."

  The woman opened her bag, drew on gloves, then pulled out large plastic bags. She removed one of the domed lids, slid it into the bag, then did the same with the other. The scent of the food filled the room, making his stomach rumble. But the fat from the steak had congealed on the plate, and the sauce on Mia's fish was clotted and oily.

  The technician put the food in separate bags, then bagged both plates. She lifted the domes off the smaller salad plates, and studied it for a long moment.

  "I think there might be something in the salad," she said, pointing toward pieces of greens torn into tiny bits. They were mixed into what looked like romaine lettuce. The tiny pieces were thicker than normal romaine, with a pebbly texture and finely serrated edges. "I haven't seen this in a salad before."

  "Bag it up and test it," Doug said.

  "Yes, sir," she said as she prepared four more plastic bags. Moments later, both plates and both salads were bagged

  After dusting the cart for fingerprints and finding nothing, she turned to face Doug. "Anything else that needs to be checked, sir?"

  Doug turned to Brendan and Cilla. "Well?"

  "We don't know, sir," Brendan answered. "Mia called me and asked me to get here fast. She wanted us to stay with Finn until the techs arrived."

  "Finn?" His godfather turned to him. "You think of anything?"

  He stared at the now-empty cart, trying to think about what Mia would want. But there'd been nothing unusual since the note a week earlier. "No, I think that's it."

  As the evidence technician was leaving, Doug said, "Let me know as soon as you have any results."

  She glanced over her shoulder. "I will, sir. I have some ideas that I'll check as soon as I get to the lab."

  "Good." He pulled out a card and handed it to her. "This is my answering service. They'll get in touch with me."

  She tapped the card into her pocket and nodded. "I'll call you, sir."

  Doug followed her out the door. "I'll talk to you later, Finn."

  "Have a good night, Doug," Finn sighed.

  As soon as the door was closed, Brendan scowled at him. "Thanks for the heads-up that the damned superintendent would show up."

  His concern for Mia growing, and in no mood to appease Brendan, Finn scowled right back. "Kiss my ass, Donovan. I had no idea he'd come here to supervise a kid bagging up food and plates."

  Cilla slapped her hand on Brendan's chest as he started toward Finn. "Really, you two? You're gonna go all caveman and start throwing punches?" She stared first at Brendan, then at Finn, her eyes narrowed. "You think Mia's gonna appreciate your manliness?"

  Brendan looked at the thin line of Cilla's mouth, then exhaled. "Yeah. Sorry, Finn. I got a little carried away."

  "You think?" Finn glared at Brendan for a long moment, then stalked over to the door and stared out the spy hole.

  "Hey." Cilla walked over to him and laid her hand on his arm. "She's okay. If she wasn't, Quinn would have called."

  "Yeah. I know." He threw himself into the nearest chair, hungry, weary and worried. "I just…we had a long day today."

  "And you haven't eaten." Cilla turned to Brendan. "Bren, why don't you go get beef sandwiches. I'll stay here with Finn until Mia gets back."

  "I could do that." Brendan took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "I hate waiting around. It'll be good to actually do something."

  "Get some for us and Quinn, too," Cilla said.

  Brendan smiled. "Will do."

  Five minutes after Brendan left, someone knocked on the door. Cilla beat him to the peep hole, and after a glance, she swung the door open. Mia stepped inside.

  Finn scrambled from the chair and swept her into his arms, too relieved to think about their audience. "Are you okay? Did you find Josh? Where's Quinn?"

  Mia leaned into him for a long moment, her arms tight around his waist. She closed her eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath. As if now that she was back, it was safe to breathe again.

  She pushed away and sank onto the couch, and Finn slid in beside her. "What happened?" he asked softly.

  Cilla leaned forward from the chair across from them. "Did you find the kid?"

  "Yeah." Mia took another deep breath. "He was lying on the floor in a corridor near the freight elevators. Unconscious. Blood beneath his head."

  Finn grabbed her hand and held on tight. "Is he going to be okay?"

  "The EMT's think so." Mia leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes for a long moment. Her iron grip squeezed his fingers together, but he didn't flinch. He was too glad she was here. "Looks like someone bashed him in the head, dragged his body where it wouldn't be seen right away, then took the cart and delivered it to our room.

  "Josh was starting to wake up before they took him to the hospital. Quinn went with them to get Josh's statement when he's completely awake." She sat up and looked around. "Where's Bren?"

  "I sent him out to get some beef sandwiches," Cilla said. "I was afraid there'd be bloodshed up here, too."

  Mia frowned. "How come?"

  Cilla shook her head. "Too much testosterone, too much worrying, too little to do."

  Mia looked at Finn and raised one eyebrow. "Really? You and Bren were bumping chests and growling?"

  Mia was back. So was her snark. Suddenly lighter, Finn tightened his arm around her shoulders and grinned. "Nope. No chest bumping. It was mostly pawing the ground and snorting."

  She shook her head and gave Cilla a thumbs up. "Good thing you sent Bren on a mission," she said.

  An hour later, as Brendan and Cilla were getting ready to leave, Mia's phone rang. Finn peered over her shoulder and saw it was from Quinn.

  "Hey, Q," Mia said.

  "Just left the hospital. Josh has a concussion and they're keeping him tonight, but he'll be fine. He said he was heading for the freight elevator and that's the last thing he remembers."

  "Maybe it'll come back eventually," Mia said, but Finn heard the disappointment in her voice.

  "Hope so," Quinn said. "I'm heading home. Tessa just got off shift."

  "Give her my love," Mia said. "And thanks, Q. I really appreciate the help."

  "Any time, Mimi."

  After filling everyone in, Cilla and Brendan said goodnight and left. When the door clicked shut behind them, Finn took a deep breath and locked it. Then he pulled Mia to her feet.

  "I w
as worried about you," he said, nuzzling the soft skin beneath her ear. "Afraid the stalker had gotten to you."

  "I know," she murmured into his shoulder. "I should have called, but everything was chaotic until the ambulance finally left. The evidence techs were still working the scene, and I just wanted to get back up here."

  "Much rather have you than a phone call." He wanted to hold her close all night. Allow not even a ray of light between them. But he eased away to look down at her face.

  "Let's go to bed. Mimi."

  Mia elbowed him. "Mimi? You really want to go there, Finian?"

  "No," he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the bedroom. "I just want you."

  Chapter 24

  Mia sat next to Finn in one corner of the catering tent outside the studio the next day, picking at a plate of chicken salad and fruit, too jumpy to enjoy her food. Her gaze drifted from one table of actors and crew people to the next, touched on the uniformed catering staff. Was Finn's stalker somewhere close? Watching them eat? Planning her next attack?

  Finn's phone rang, making Mia flinch. The chicken salad tasted like rubber as she watched Finn glance at the screen and push the call button.

  "Yeah, she's here," he said, glancing at Mia. "I'll put her on."

  He handed her the phone, mouthing, "Doug."

  Clearing her throat, Mia said, "Sir?"

  "I just got a call from the evidence tech," the superintendent said gruffly. "There were foxglove leaves in both the salads. They contain digitalis. Enough to make you really sick if you ate all of it. Maybe even kill you."

  Mia inhaled sharply and closed her eyes, remembering how close that salad had come to Finn's mouth. "Wow. Um, okay. Thanks for letting me know. I'll be even more careful."

  "You're doing a superb job, Officer." Doug Walsh's voice softened. "You've got good instincts. Finn told me how you knocked that fork away from him before he could eat any of the salad. Thank you for that." The superintendent cleared his throat. "Finn means a great deal to our family."

  He means a great deal to me, too. "I won't take any risks with him," she assured Doug.

  "I've spoken to my contact at the studio, and I'm going to put two more undercover officers on this assignment. They'll be in the studio and on the location shoots for the duration of the time Finn is in Chicago."

  Mia knew it was the smart thing to do. The stalker was escalating. More people would help. But a selfish part of her was possessive about Finn. She wanted to be the one protecting him. She didn't want to hand him off to someone else.

  Finn had his head pressed to hers, listening to the phone call. He grabbed her hand at his godfather's words. Apparently, Finn knew her pretty well.

  She wasn't sure if that was scary or thrilling.

  Clearing her throat, Mia said, "Sir, I…"

  "I'm not doubting your work, Mia," he said gently, interrupting her. "There's no one else I want protecting my godson, and I want you to stay close to him. But there's a lot of territory to cover, and I think you need some help. I can't let this woman endanger a high-profile cast member working on a movie in my city. Beyond my personal concerns about Finn, an incident would damage the city's reputation within the film industry. Cause significant economic damage to Chicago, if studios bypassed us because of safety concerns." He hesitated. "Do you understand?"

  Mia let her breath out slowly, letting go of her defensiveness. "Yes, sir. It's a good idea," she admitted. Finn's hand stroked her back. Settled her down. She couldn't be everywhere. Other eyes would be helpful. "What about at the hotel?"

  "I've put someone in the kitchen. She'll watch your food being prepared. And she'll escort your bellboy to your suite door."

  "Thank you, sir. That's reassuring." Finn brushed his lips over her cheek, and she leaned into him.

  "I've got the evidence techs going over the security tapes to try and identify the woman who delivered your food last night," Doug said. "Let me know if you need anything else."

  "I will, sir."

  "One more thing. I understand there was an incident when you and Finn were at the Seven Club."

  Mia tensed again. "Yes, sir. But he never got close to Finn. Mr. Pinckney was arrested with a minimum of drama."

  "I know that. Since Finn was involved, I got the report from the lab." He cleared his throat. "I wanted to let you know that the DNA came back on the man who assaulted you. It was a match for several rapes that are connected with The Seven Club. All involving rohypnol."

  "Oh, my God," Mia breathed.

  "Yes," Doug said, his voice vibrating with satisfaction. "Mr. Pinckney was denied bail. With the DNA, he's looking at a long time in prison."

  "Thank you for telling me," Mia said, clutching the phone too tightly.

  "I thought you should know," the superintendent said gruffly. "Let me talk to Finn again."

  Handing Finn the phone, her head still spinning with the news, Mia edged away to give him some privacy with his godfather. Instead of allowing the distance, Finn pulled her tight against him.

  "She's a keeper, Finn," Doug said. "Don't screw this up."

  Mia froze, but Finn merely brushed his fingers over her side. Her skin prickled, even beneath the shirt she wore. "No, sir. I wouldn't think of it."

  "Good. Tell Mia to keep me posted."

  "I will. Thanks, Doug." He pushed the button to disconnect the call.

  "Did you hear what he said?" she asked. "About Kyle from The Seven Club?"

  "I did." He reached out and took her hand. "I'm glad, Mia. Glad he's off the street. Happy he won't be hurting any other women."

  "Yeah," she said, feeling lighter. "Me, too." Then she tightened her grip on his hand. "What was he saying to you?" she demanded, both afraid of the answer and hoping it meant what she thought it meant.

  "He thinks you're doing a good job," Finn said easily. "He doesn't want me to get in your way."

  Mia studied him. He smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. They were dark green and bleak, as if something precious was vanishing and he knew he wouldn't find it again.

  She swallowed once, then nodded. No matter what Doug said, she knew how this story ended. "You finished eating? Ready to get back to work?" she said, gathering up her tray.

  "Yeah." He stood up and picked up his own tray. "Long afternoon ahead."

  * * *

  When Mia opened the door to the suite, it was early evening. The cast had been dismissed early after a piece of equipment had fallen onto a set. No one had been hurt, but everyone was rattled and Sean decided to call it a day.

  Mia had been concerned, but couldn't investigate without blowing her cover. So she'd had Finn call Doug, who'd sent someone over to check everything out. Unless the target had been Finn, and she was pretty sure it hadn't been, since he'd been on the other side of the set, it wasn't her responsibility.

  Her responsibility was keeping Finn safe. So she'd hurried him out the door as soon as he'd cleaned off his stage makeup.

  Now he held a pizza box they'd picked up on the way home after a silly argument about the merits of Chicago deep dish pizza versus the joys of the thin crust, artisan pizza he liked. Their teasing had been forced, but Mia tried to keep it light. Tried not to let her worries affect the time she spent with Finn.

  As Finn set the pizza on the table by the door, she took her gun out of her purse and cleared the suite, room by room. She knew every inch of the suite by heart, but still she checked everywhere. When she was satisfied that the suite was empty, she slid the gun back into her purse and nodded at Finn to close and lock the door.

  They didn't need words to communicate anymore – he knew what she wanted before she told him, and she knew what he was thinking before he opened his mouth.

  "Grab the pizza," she said, lifting her holster from her hip and setting it on the table. "Let's eat."

  As she watched Finn pick up the box, she stilled. "Stop," she ordered, staring at the table.

  The vase of flowers that had been there yesterday was gone.
She'd left a note for the maid to dump them out. But there was a new arrangement of flowers on the table.

  This one looked…odd.

  There were yellow carnations and yellow roses. Orange lilies and a white lily with red stripes. A flower that looked like hollyhocks, which she remembered from her grandmother's garden. Lavender. Purple bell-shaped flowers.

  Black roses.

  It looked like no flower arrangement she'd ever seen. Mismatched. Strange color combinations. And haphazardly put together.

  "Bring the pizza over here," she said as she grabbed the house phone and dialed the front desk. Barely giving the clerk the time to greet her, Mia said, "This is room 1216. Did you deliver flowers to our room today?"

  "I'll check that for you," she said. Moments later, the woman said, "No, ma'am. There were no flowers delivered to your room."

  "Who delivers things to guest rooms?" she asked. Finn dropped the box on the table and slid his arm around her waist. He was solid against her. Warm. Alive, and she intended to keep him that way. She had to say goodbye to him at the end of the week, but she'd make sure he made it back to Los Angeles.

  "All deliveries go to the front desk, and we either have our guests pick them up there, or send a bell boy up to the room if the guest prefers that."

  Her stomach churned as she studied the blooms. "What about the florist on the first floor? Do they deliver any flowers guests might order?"

  "No, ma'am," the clerk said patiently. "Everything gets delivered to the desk, including items purchased from the merchants in our building. Only bellboys are authorized to deliver to rooms."

  Finn wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. Feeling his breath stirring the hair on her nape, his hands splaying across her stomach, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. Think. She could figure this out.

  "Who has passkeys that open all the rooms?" Mia asked after a moment.

  There was silence on the other end of the line. Then the woman said, "I'm going to connect you to security. Hold, please."