by Cindy Dees
Jeff laughed. “Hardly. Women chase him like crazy, but he never gives them the time of day.”
“Well, he’s following me.”
“I know. I told him to.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sunny is family now, and so are you. I sent Trent to keep an eye on you until we can figure out who might want to, umm, bother you.”
“You mean kill me?” she retorted.
“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” he demurred with patent insincerity. Jeff Winston obviously believed someone was out to kill her, too. She tuned back in to what he was saying.
“...wouldn’t want to unduly alarm you, Chloe. But my people pulled footage from a traffic camera in Denver, and that SUV appeared to be targeting you specifically,” he finished delicately.
“It was a fluke. Or the driver mistook me for his ex-wife, or he didn’t see me. I don’t know what Trent thinks he saw, but the man’s delusional.”
Jeff replied gently, “The vehicle idled with its engine running for nearly an hour in its parking spot. But the moment you exited the club, it pulled out into the street. It waited in place for you to start across. When you did, it accelerated directly at you. I hate to alarm you, but Trent wasn’t mistaken.”
She didn’t know what to say to that.
“Look. He’ll stay out of your way. I can put a full surveillance team on you if you’d like, but I thought you might be more comfortable having someone you know do the job. Plus, Trent will be a little more unobtrusive than a large team of operatives.”
She swore mentally. An entire team of security men trailing her around was the last thing she needed. No way would Herrera miss something that obvious. And if this hypothetical security team was as ham-handed as Trent in its approach, it would surely succeed in wrecking her case and maybe getting her killed. Like it or not, Trent Hollings was the lesser of two evils.
“Really, Jeff. I don’t need any protection. I’ll be just fine.” God, why couldn’t her life ever be normal?
“With all due respect, Chloe, I’m not convinced. Tell you what. If Trent watches you for a couple of weeks and there are no more incidents, I’ll pull him off the job and never bug you again.”
It wasn’t a great compromise, but it was better than nothing. And as long as Trent kept his distance, she supposed she could tolerate a few weeks of knowing he was watching her. Although the mere notion of him checking out her every move sent shivers through her. Yeah, but what kind of shivers? A little voice murmured in the back of her head.
Not those kind! she shouted back at herself. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Two weeks. And then he’s out of here.”
“Deal. Pleasure doing business with you, Chloe.”
Was that laughter in his voice? Why did she suddenly feel like she’d played right into his hands? Nope, she didn’t like Jeff Winston much more than his incredibly annoying employee.
Chapter 4
Chloe spent the remainder of the evening making multiple copies of all the files on Barry’s flash drive. She burned them to a CD, saved them to her online file storage account and, most importantly, forwarded them to Don Fratello. He couldn’t read even the simplest financial statement and would expect her to do the heavy lifting in analyzing the files, but this way the FBI had a backup copy. And their computers were super secure.
She took a cursory glance at the files, and it looked like Barry had grabbed a complete record of Paradeo’s activities for the past several years. It would take days or even weeks to plow through all the information, but if there was a money trail buried in here, she would find it.
The physical stress of travel and the emotional stress of being attacked had exhausted her, though, and eager as she was to dig into Barry’s files, she turned in early. Her professors always stressed that a case like this was a marathon, not a sprint. She had to pace herself if she wanted to stay sharp.
The next morning, she stumbled through her usual routine by rote, showering, dressing and eating breakfast with blessed normalcy. She kept a sharp eye peeled for Trent as she headed for work but never spotted him. She didn’t know which was creepier: seeing him following her or not seeing him at all. At least he was keeping up Jeff’s end of the bargain and staying out of her way. She made her way to Paradeo’s offices on the fifth floor of a downtown office building and spent most of the morning digging through the minor crises that had piled up on her desk in her absence.
It was nearly 11:00 a.m. before she was able to make her way past Barry’s cubicle without being obvious about it. She poked her head in to thank him for the gift and to give him a quick thumbs-up regarding the completeness of the content. But when she looked around the corner, he wasn’t at his desk. His computer was turned off and no papers cluttered his desk. Which was strange, come to think of it. His desk was normally messy enough that she had to restrain an urge to straighten it.
She asked his supervisor in the cubby next door, “Have you seen Barry, today?”
“No. He didn’t come in to work. And,” the woman added tartly, “he didn’t call me to tell me he was sick, either.”
“Okay. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.” Something didn’t feel right in Chloe’s gut. Barry hadn’t been sick last night when she saw him. And now that the files were out of his possession, he had nothing to worry about. He should’ve been at work today and acting as if nothing was wrong. Trent’s paranoia was contagious, darn him! Barry had probably spent the morning in bed sleeping off his stress or maybe a hangover.
At lunch, she left the office and bought herself a salad at the deli down the street. She called Barry’s cell phone number to check on him, but got no answer. Her unease intensified. And speaking of which, where was her own personal ball and chain? She searched up and down the block for a tall, gorgeous physique in the crowd. No sign of Trent. But she swore she could feel his gaze on her. It was almost a physical caress in its intensity. No doubt about it, he was there even if she couldn’t see him. If only he didn’t make her skin tingle like that!
Aww, c’mon. Admit it, Self. You like knowing he’s looking out for you.
That little voice in the back of her head could just go take a hike. She went back to work and threw herself into finishing her piece of the quarterly report, which took the rest of the day. At quitting time, she had about an hour’s worth of work left to do on the thing and decided to stay late and finish it. Not to mention doing so would probably irritate the heck out of Trent.
The office emptied and the phones quit ringing. As silence settled around her, she focused intently on the columns of numbers on her computer screen. One more footnote to post on a one-time charge as required by law, and she’d be done.
“Chloe Jordan?” a heavy male voice said in her doorway.
She looked up at a man she’d never seen before. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Miguel Herrera. New Chief of Security.”
She swore to herself. Way to go avoiding the guy who’d be most likely to stick around late and lock the place up. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Pasting on a polite smile, she moved around her desk to shake hands with him. He was about her height and powerful in build. His neck was thick and muscular, and she had no doubt that under his suit the rest of him was equally beefy. “Glad to have you here, sir. Now I’m not the newest kid on the block anymore.”
Herrera smiled, but the expression never touched his cold, black eyes. She got the distinct feeling he was mentally calculating the best way to dissect her into Chihuahua-
food-sized kibbles. “How much longer will you be here this evening, Miss Jordan?”
“I’m just finishing up the quarterly report. Two more minutes, tops.”
Herrera gave her a long, assessing look like he was measuring the truth of her explanation, and she restrained an urge to squirm. “Next time you plan to stay late, tell me first,” he finally growled.
“Of course.” He left her office and she sagged in relief. The guy really did reek of contained violence. No wonder Don had warned he
r away from this guy. More eager than ever to get home and dig into Barry’s files, she hurried through the last footnote, sent her data to Paradeo’s Chief Financial Officer and headed home.
She didn’t bother looking for Trent when she stepped out of her building. She was in too big a hurry to get away from Herrera’s disturbing presence. When she had to walk past the alley where the man had jumped her the night before, she couldn’t help herself. She swung wide of the dark gap, edging along the parked cars and hurrying her steps.
Thank goodness Trent had been there last night. As much as she might resent his intrusion into her life, who knew what that mugger really would’ve done to her? In a moment of brutal honesty, she allowed reluctantly that Trent probably hadn’t deserved her generally rude response to him last night. It wasn’t his fault she’d gotten drunk and found out the hard way what a floozy she was on whiskey. She was embarrassed, but that wasn’t his problem.
Thankfully, she’d left a lamp on in her apartment this morning and didn’t have to step into a dark space. She kicked off her high-heeled shoes gratefully. Visions of a red stiletto flying over a broad, sexy shoulder came unbidden to her mind.
Get out of my head! Echoes of rich male laughter were the only reply her mind offered up.
To drown the memory of Trent’s voice urging her not to overthink, to let go and show him just how naughty she could be, she turned on the television. Local news blared as she moved into the kitchen to whip up dinner for herself. The act of chopping and stir-frying a wokful of cashew chicken calmed her.
She poured herself a glass of chardonnay and moved into the living room to relax while the rice steamed. The news anchor’s voice caught her attention. “And in local news, accountant Barry Lind was found dead in his apartment this afternoon, the apparent victim of a robbery gone wrong...”
Her wineglass slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor, shattering on the slate tiles.
Gut-twisting fear slammed into her harder than Trent Hollings had on that street in Denver. She collapsed on the couch, staring at the television in horror as it flashed a picture of Barry that looked a few years old and declared his death a tragic loss. The reporter moved on unconcernedly to the next story as if he hadn’t just destroyed her world.
Her front door knob rattled and she scrambled to her feet in terror, stumbling on the edge of the area rug as she backed away from the door. A snick and the knob turned. Ohgod, ohgod.... Someone was breaking in. She was next to die—
She spun and ran for her bedroom. A hard, powerful arm snagged her around the waist from behind, yanking her back against a muscular body. She screamed and a big hand slapped across her mouth.
“Easy, Chloe. It’s me. What the hell’s going on? Why did you freak out like that?”
She nearly sobbed aloud in relief as Trent’s deep voice rumbled in her ear. His hand lifted off her mouth. His body was big and warm and protective plastered against her back, and an urge to sink into him and let him take care of her came over her. But then anger erupted inside her. “You scared me to death!” she exclaimed.
He turned her in his arms, but infuriatingly didn’t let her go. Or to be more accurate, she was glad he didn’t turn her loose, and that made her furious with herself.
“Me?” Trent exclaimed. “You were completely terrified by something long before I got here. I saw you drop your wineglass and go as white as a sheet. That’s when I hoofed it over here as fast as I could.”
How had he seen her? She glanced over at her picture windows in chagrin. She’d always been claustrophobic and preferred to leave the blinds open to the city view.
“Chloe? What’s going on?” he urged.
His question pulled her back to Barry’s tragic fate. “He’s dead,” she mumbled as tears started to flow down her cheeks.
“Who?” Trent’s voice was sharp now and his hands tightened on her shoulders.
“Barry. The guy I met for drinks last night.”
“Your boyfriend?” Trent’s voice changed tenor. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her and drew her against his big, comforting chest.
“He’s not my boyfriend. He is...was...” her voice cracked “...an accountant where I work. He wanted to talk over a problem he was having at work.”
“What kind of problem?”
Not the kind that she was prepared to discuss with anyone but Don. “Just some accounting stuff,” she replied evasively.
“How did Barry die?” She couldn’t fail to hear the charged anticipation in Trent’s voice. He didn’t seriously think Barry’s death was related to her, did he?
“The news said he was murdered at home possibly confronting a robber.”
Trent frowned, but didn’t comment as he pulled out his cell phone and plastered it to his ear. While he waited for someone to come on the line, he used his free arm to guide her over to the sofa. He sank down onto it and pulled her down beside him, never removing his arm from around her. Whether she liked it or not, he held her practically lying across his chest.
In spite of how frustrated she was at having him shadowing her life, she had to admit his body heat and slow, steady heartbeat were both comforting and calming. What the heck. She gave up resisting his superior strength and relaxed against him, accepting the comfort he was offering. His hand stroked her hair absently. She would have purred like a contented cat if the man who’d stolen sensitive data and passed it to her hadn’t just been killed.
“Jeff, it’s Trent. Coworker of Chloe’s was killed today. She met him for drinks last night to talk about work stuff and he was murdered in his home overnight.”
She faintly heard Jeff’s reply. “I’ll send a full team right away.”
“No!” she exclaimed, struggling to push upright on Trent’s chest. “No team!”
“Honey, you’re in grave danger,” Trent replied soothingly. “We need the extra manpower to protect you.”
“I can’t have an entire security team trailing me around. It’ll ruin everything!”
Trent answered whatever Jeff said with, “Nope. No idea what she’s talking about. Yeah, I’ll find out. We can’t exactly force her to cooperate with us.”
She stared at Trent in dismay and mouthed again, “No team!”
He frowned at her while he listened to Jeff. He said only, “Got it. I’ll be in touch.” And then he disconnected the call.
* * *
Trent stared down at the exasperating woman trapped against his chest. Single-handedly protecting her from killers was a tall order. And he really didn’t want to see anything bad happen to her. He had plans for the two of them.
“Will you please explain to me why don’t you want a team of highly trained field operatives to keep you alive, Chloe?”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Same difference.”
He sighed. “Look. I’m one of the good guys. I’m trying to help you, but you’re making it damned hard to do.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“I beg to differ. Twice now, someone has tried to harm or kill you, and your colleague, to whom you must have been one of the last people he spoke with, is dead. Wake up and smell the coffee. You’re in real danger.”
She stared at him a long time, her eyes as big and blue as the sky on a clear day. Emotions washed through her azure gaze, one after another. Distrust. Doubt. Frustration. And finally, fear. Relief flowed through him. At last, she was getting past her denial enough to believe him.
But then she said, “I’ve been in rough situations before. I’ll be okay.”
“Not this time. Whoever’s coming after you is violent and proficient.”
“They can’t be that proficient. I’m still alive.”
“Because I’ve been around to save you,” he snapped. And he’d succeeded in protecting her both times by the skin of his teeth. “Pretty soon, your would-be killer is going to start figuring me into the equation, and I won’t be enough to keep
you safe any more.” His arm tightened protectively around her.
Her flash of defiance faded. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Let me help you. Let Jeff and a full-blown security team help you.”
She was silent a long time. Finally, reluctantly, she said, “All right. But no team. Just you.”
“I can’t be everywhere at once. You’ll be safer with a full security detail.”
“I might be safer, but it would ruin my investigation. It’s you or nobody.”
He sensed that was her final offer. But he didn’t like it. “What or who, exactly, are you investigating?”
Chagrin washed across her face. “I assume you followed me to work today and figured out which company I’m working for.”
“I did,” he answered evenly. “And where are you in your investigation with Paradeo?”
She hesitated, and then capitulated and spoke in a rush. “Barry gave me a flash drive with a bunch of financial information on it. That’s why he wanted to meet me last night.”
“Were they worth killing over?”
She stared at him, appalled. “You think that’s why Barry was killed?”
He shrugged. “Hard to tell.” He didn’t want to suggest that mere contact with her could have been enough to cause a motivated killer to go after Barry. She would never get over the guilt of it.
“So how do we do this?” she asked.
An image of her naked and tied up beneath him flashed through his head. Startled, he shook it off and forced his mind to work. “I’m going to be glued to your side from now on. I’ll figure out who’s after you and, when the bastard shows himself, I’ll catch him and turn him over to the authorities. Then you can resume your regularly scheduled life. In the meantime, you should take some time off work.”
“I can’t. The FBI has hired me to investigate Paradeo, and I have to see it through.”
“Not if it’s going to kill you.”
She sighed. “A certain amount of risk is part of the job.”
“Not this much risk,” he retorted. “You’ve got Barry’s files here at your place, don’t you?”