Tough as Nails (COBRA Securities Book 10)

by Velvet Vaughn

Reed winced at the rebuke. She might be a badass security agent, but it didn’t change the fact that he wanted to protect her. “What did you find?”

  “Someone had broken in. I caught a glimpse of him but he took off when I sent Kota after him. He jumped out a window.”

  “Did he do any damage to the house?”

  “Just the broken window.”

  “What the hell is he after?”

  “My company is on the job now so I’ll find out.”

  The door to his room opened and the doctor entered, followed by a nurse. The doctor was short with a receding hairline and sported wire rim glasses that kept slipping down his nose. He pushed them up with a finger and eyed Reed. “You’re looking better this morning, Mr. Steele. How about we spring you from here?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “We have a few forms for you to sign.” He glanced at Connie and Hillary. “Which one of you will be responsible for him?”

  “That falls on me,” Connie sighed dramatically.

  The doctor chuckled. “Then I’ll need you to sign the papers stating you’ll stay with him the next twenty-four hours and keep an eye on him to make sure there are no lingering effects from the concussion.”

  Connie’s gaze snapped to him. “Reed, baby, you know I love you, but I have two precocious preschoolers that I have to watch like a hawk twenty-four seven. I’m not sure I can give you the attention you need.”

  “Hum.” The doctor scratched his chin. “That poses a problem. This isn’t your first concussion. I can’t release you without supervision, so it looks like you’ll be with us for another day.”

  Reed’s palms started to sweat and panic set in. “I can’t stay another day. I’m fine. Really. The pain is barely noticeable. I don’t need—”

  “I’ll do it.”

  All heads snapped to Hillary. She looked as surprised as the rest of them at the words that spilled from her soft lips. His heart picked up speed. Did she feel the same attraction that he did? The increased heartbeat, the hyper-awareness when she was around. Then she shrugged a shoulder. “I work for you now, so it’s part of the job description.”

  His shoulders slumped. Part of the job. Well, that answered his question. Apparently, the attraction was a one-way street.

  Connie clapped her hands once, her grin rivaling that of the Cheshire Cat. Reed wanted to groan. “Thank you so much, Hillary,” she gushed. “You’re a lifesaver…literally!” She laughed at her quip.

  Hillary smiled back, but it was forced. His mood soured even more. She may not want to spend time with him, but she could at least hide her disappointment. She could be very bad for a guy’s ego.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hillary’s heart was thumping so loud, she feared the others could hear it. She was pretty sure when she opened her mouth and offered to watch over Reed for the next twenty-four hours, it had been her roommate Kayla’s voice that came out. Kayla was the outgoing one, the flirt. That she was all talk and little action was something that only the two of them knew. Kayla’s bubbly personality hid pain that she tried to bury behind a smiling face.

  Now that the words were out there, she couldn’t take them back. She signed the forms where the nurse indicated on auto-pilot. No driving. No exercise. Call if slurred speech, dizziness, worsening headache or trouble waking. Got it. She scribbled her name on the line. The nurse handed her copies and all that was left was to load six-feet five-inches of muscled man into her sport utility vehicle.

  She trailed behind the nurse pushing Reed to the lobby in a wheelchair. It’d been a struggle to force him into the chair until the doctor threatened to keep him another day. That was all the incentive Reed needed and he practically leapt into it.

  Her phone buzzed an incoming text, followed by another ping. Two in a row couldn’t be good. She pulled out her cell and read the first message from Jade Bradley:

  OMG ABS OF STEELE? R U kidding me?

  She chanced a glance at the object of the text and then accessed the next one. It was from Layla Brooks, soon to be Layla Colton:

  Are they as rock solid as they look on TV? Snap a pic! Snap a pic!

  Another ping sounded and it was a shot of Jade and Layla holding a picture between them, each one making kissy faces at it. It was the photo from Reed’s calendar.

  “Something funny?”

  Hillary jerked and fumbled her phone, batting it a couple of times before Reed snatched it out of the air. Her face flamed. She prayed he didn’t look at the screen but he just handed it to her like a gentleman. She breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know how to explain the photo. “Just some friends back home acting goofy.” A few buttons and the texts were deleted. She stashed the phone in a pocket. Although, he’d probably be flattered to see an Oscar-winning actress and award-winning singer lusting after him. No sense in inflating his already-healthy ego.

  The automatic doors swished open and the nurse brought the chair to a stop. Reed used his good arm to push to his feet. Connie kissed them both on the cheek and waved a hand as she hurried to her waiting family, leaving Reed and Hillary alone. She worked with the most attractive men on the planet on a daily basis. She was sure Adonis was modeled after Dante Costa. So why did this one man make her palms sweat and her hands shake?

  She led Reed to her Escalade and managed to drop the keys twice. She finally hit the button on the key fob to unlock the door. Most of the COBRA Securities agents drove Cadillac SUVs. Her bosses had negotiated a deal and they were the official vehicles for the agency. The upper-level management team were provided their own to drive. The other agents like herself were offered an incredible deal to purchase one. It was too good of an offer to pass up. When she worked a case, she could use one of the fleet vehicles but she preferred to use her own. It was equipped with the same bells and whistles, and her bosses were incredible in that they paid mileage and wear.

  Once she made sure Reed was settled inside and buckled in, she rounded the hood and slid into the driver’s seat. She glanced over at him. “What are you doing?” He’d pulled the sling over his head and dropped it to the floorboard. “The doctor said you had to wear that for at least a week.”

  He gave her a look that clearly conveyed “give me a break” so she sighed and cranked the engine. He was a big boy. If he didn’t want to wear the sling, she wouldn’t make him. “Where are you staying?” She shifted into gear and backed out of the parking space.

  “At the house.”

  She braked and glanced over at him. “The reno house? You’re staying there?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Planned on it until shooting starts next week.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I do. I brought a sleeping bag. I can keep an eye on the house.”

  “Mr. Steele, right now the house—”

  “Stop right there.” Her eyes widened at the vehemence in his voice. “What’s with this Mr. Steele garbage? It’s Reed.”

  “I’m working for you now…Mr. Steele,” she tacked on to goad him. It worked. His eyes narrowed to slits. She tried not to smile. “It’s best if we keep this relationship professional.” Best for her peace of mind, sanity and the organ pumping frantically inside her chest. If she kept the relationship on a professional level, maybe it would stop the naughty thoughts scrolling through her brain like a porno flick. She pressed the accelerator and turned out of the parking lot.

  “You’re fired.”

  Her mouth dropped open in outrage and she swerved. It was one thing for her to not want to take the job, quite another to be fired. After pulling to the side of the road, she shifted the SUV into park a little harder than necessary, lurching them both until their seat belts halted their forward progress. “You can’t fire me. Connie hired me and my company. There’s a signed contract and everything.”

  “Then it looks like you’re going to have to call me Reed. I’m pretty sure Connie adds that to all contract verbiage.”

  “I don’t think so.”

 
; “I think so.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “Gah. Are you always this exasperating?”

  He crossed his arms, which was hard to do when one forearm was wrapped in plaster, and flashed her a smug smile. “Always.”

  “Fine. Reed,” she emphasized, refusing to acknowledge that she felt more alive than she had in months. It was hard to suppress a smile as she pulled back onto the road. She resigned herself to having Reed in her small cottage. He couldn’t stay in the reno house when there was a perp on the loose, determined to get inside. The only way she could watch over him was to have him under the same roof. At least that’s how she rationalized it.

  “Will you tell me about it?”

  She glanced over at him. “About what?” He tapped his chest and Hillary’s breathing labored. Her scar. He’d seen it when she’d stripped off her shirt to stop his bleeding. She thought he’d been too out of it to remember. They were close to the cottage. She could stall. Dash inside and lock herself away to avoid any questions. “There’s nothing to tell—” She braked unexpectedly. Reed threw out his good arm to brace himself against the dash, the seatbelt jerking him back into place again.

  “Hillary, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry—”

  Hillary slammed the car into park and wrenched open her door. “Call 9-1-1 and stay here. I mean it. Don’t move.”

  #

  Reed cursed himself as he braced against the dash for blurting out the question to Hillary. He’d remembered seeing the reddened, puckered flesh on her chest and knew it had been a major injury and judging from the unhealed skin, not too long ago. Apparently, he’d royally pissed her off. “Hillary, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry—”

  “Call 9-1-1 and stay here. I mean it. Don’t move.”

  Before Reed could process what was happening, she was out the door and leaping up the steps to the reno house. Then he noticed smoke pouring out the window.

  “Sonofa— He fumbled for his phone and called for help as he tried to unbuckle his belt and wrench the door open one-handed. Damn cast. When the operator came on the line, he gave her the info and address and then dashed to his truck, grabbing a fire extinguisher from the tool box he’d filled with supplies before he arrived at the house. Hillary had left the door open and the interior was a hazy blur. He forged inside to see her batting at flames with an old blanket.

  “Hillary, get back.”

  “I told you to stay put.”

  Holding the canister against his body with his casted arm, he aimed the extinguisher at the first of four metal trash cans that had been shoved together and lit ablaze. The flames danced high in the air in an explosion of red and orange. The carbon dioxide did its job, quickly squelching the fire in all four containers. He’d just released the last burst of white foam when feet pounded on the porch and firemen raced inside.

  “Fire Department, but I see we’re too late,” the first man said. He turned to the woman behind him. “Call it in clear.” He strode forward and glanced into the smoldering cans. “I’m Captain Jackson. Are you the owners?”

  “Not exactly. I’m scheduled to renovate the house next week.”

  “Gonna be hard with a busted arm,” the captain said and then his eyes widened. “You’re Reed Steele.” They shook hands. “We got notice that you’d be filming on the island. It’ll be nice to get this eyesore fixed up.” He extended his hand to Hillary and they shook.

  A man stuck his head inside the door. “We done here, Cap?”

  “Send the crew back. I’ll gather details for the report.” Jackson peered into the cans. “It doesn’t look like it was meant to do much damage.” He glanced around and then indicated the wall. “But someone definitely doesn’t want you in the house.”

  Scribbled in bold red letters that popped against the white of the walls were the words: Get out before it is too late.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rocky was getting damn tired of people interfering with his search. His time was limited. If he couldn’t find what he was looking for and soon, his granny would send the cops after his ass. He couldn’t go back to prison. Wouldn’t go back. They’d have to shoot him first, but he’d make sure to take a few of them out with him.

  Maybe if Calvin and his old bastard of a father had taken better care of the place, it wouldn’t be so hard to find. But there was junk everywhere. The house was a Hoarders episode waiting to happen. It could take years. Now there would be a television crew of who knew how many people descending on the property soon. He needed to find what he was looking for and high-tail it back to Granny’s house. If she bitched at him, he’d just have to put a stop to it…a permanent one. He’d certainly dreamed of killing the old bat often enough.

  Since he couldn’t break and enter in peace, he thought he’d try a different approach: scare tactics. Warn the people to leave him and the house the hell alone or there would be consequences. Deadly ones.

  In case his written message didn’t do the trick, the threat of burning the house down ought to do it. He’d broken into a storage shed behind the motel and found four metal trash cans and a can of red spray paint. He’d loaded them into the back of Gramp’s truck and driven to a public parking lot close to the house. He’d thrown an old tarp from the back of the truck over the cans and almost choked at the rancid smell. What the hell did Gramps use the tarp for? Covering dead bodies?

  After toting the cans to the house, he’d checked to make sure no one was around before he picked the lock on the side door and carried his items inside. After spraying the message on the wall—he’d have much rather used blood but the red paint was effective—he arranged the cans and then piled newspapers and magazines and anything else he could find to burn and waited for Mandy to call and let him know Steele had been released before he lit them.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay around to gauge the reaction to his handiwork. The cops might canvas the area and he didn’t want to put himself in their crosshairs. Better to blend into the background than call attention to himself.

  He parked at the motel and pretended to be looking for something inside the truck bed. He smiled when the wail of sirens came screeching by. Message received.

  #

  Hillary called Detective Polizzi while Reed walked through the house with Captain Jackson, looking for any other threatening messages or nasty surprises. She snapped a picture of the graffiti and made a list of all the security equipment she would need. Definitely cameras. They might not get a good look at the guy since he always seemed to wear a ski mask, but they might serve as effective deterrents if nothing else.

  Reed and Captain Jackson returned just as Kellan Polizzi arrived. She showed him the message and the smoldering cans.

  “In the next few days, thousands of dollars of equipment will be arriving for the renovation,” Reed said. “We’d already planned on a security system, but I talked to the owner and he wants top-of-the line. No expense spared. He can afford it.”

  “I’ve got the best system on the way, but until it arrives, I plan on hitting a hardware store for new locks. Also, I need to hire someone to stand guard, especially overnight.” She turned to the detective. “Do you know of anyone that might want the job?”

  He nodded slowly. “I know a guy who would do it, but he’s not the easiest to get along with. Retired beat cop. Don’t let his gruff attitude deter you. He was a good cop at one time. Mack Arnold.”

  Captain Jackson whistled. “He is a mean old SOB. Do you think he’ll crawl out of the bottle long enough to take the job?”

  Kellan nodded. “He doesn’t drink on the job. His wife passed away a few years ago, and he’s been hitting the bottle pretty hard since. He says he’s trying to drink himself to death so he can join her, but when he takes a job, it’s his focus. If you want, I’ll give him a call to see if he’s interested.”

  “If you trust him, I trust him.” She glanced at Reed to see his eyes narrow at her. What was that about? Kellan stepped away to make
the call. Reed was still frowning at her, so she addressed the fire captain. “Any other damage in the house?”

  “No, it was contained to this area. I’m going to take off, write it up. Let me know if you have any other incidents.”

  They shook his hand and he left. Kellan walked over to them. “Arnold bitched and moaned, but he’ll do it. He’s waiting on a call from you. Remember, take his attitude with a grain of salt.”

  Hillary programmed the man’s number into her phone and padded to the sliding glass door while she dialed. The crash and retreat of the waves was hypnotic.

  “’Lo?”

  “Mr. Arnold?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “My name is Hillary Billings. Detective Polizzi gave me your number. He said you might be interested in a security job for a couple of days.” He grunted. Hillary assumed that was a yes, so she forged on. “I need you to watch over a house from nine in the evening to six in the morning, tonight and tomorrow night, maybe a couple of days longer. Someone has broken in three times already, and he’s injured one person, so there could be some danger involved.” She wanted him to know that up front. He needed to be prepared for anything.

  Arnold scoffed. “Danger don’t scare me none. I got a Ruger and I ain’t afraid to use it.”

  God, she hoped there wouldn’t be bloodshed. She gave him the address and told him she’d meet him at the house to show him around.

  #

  Mack Arnold was just as ornery and obstinate as Kellan indicated. He rolled out of his beat-up Chevy pickup wearing an old gunslinger belt with his Ruger tucked in a holster and a dusty brown cowboy hat perched on his head. Captain Jackson indicated that he liked the bottle and she assumed it was beer because he had a paunch that hung over his belt. She’d put him somewhere in his late sixties, but he still looked capable of taking down an intruder.

  “Mr. Arnold, it’s nice to meet you.” She held out her hand. His grip was strong and sure, but he narrowed his eyes.

  “You’re the one who hired me?” At her nod, he added, “You don’t look like no security guard.”