by Lori Foster
Brand let her go, then stood back. He didn’t give them privacy by going into the conference room, but neither did he interrupt the moment.
Sahara squeezed him tight. “I can’t believe you’re finally back. I never gave up hope.”
“I know.” Scott levered her away, brotherly concern darkening his expression. “You’re okay?”
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
He shook his head and said to Brand, “She likes to think she’s invincible.”
“Not really.” Brand stared hard at her brother—and again had to fight the urge to pulverize him. “But she is the strongest person I know.”
Sahara spun around to face him. “Really?”
Leave it to Sahara to like that compliment most of all. “Absolutely.”
“She’s tough,” Scott said with pride. “I’ll give you that.” He looked around. “You changed everything, sis.”
“Yes.”
Brand heard the subdued hesitation in her voice, but Scott paid no attention. “It suits you.”
Sahara took in his black thermal shirt, worn jeans and lace-up boots, and said, “Not sure I can say the same. This whole dressing down thing is a very different look for you. You do realize that all your regular clothes are still at the house?”
Scott grinned. “Somehow, I don’t feel like a suit anymore. All this time I’ve gotten by with only a few pairs of jeans and a half-dozen shirts. It’s a simpler way of life.”
Sahara reached up to smooth his untrimmed hair. “I’ll take your word for it.”
His mouth quirked on one side and his gaze softened. “You’re still a clotheshorse, I see.”
Why did every damn thing he said sound like an insult?
“Of course.” Sahara looked him over again, then nodded. “You know, I think the rugged look suits you.”
Scott hauled her in for another hug. “Damn, but I missed you, sis.”
“I missed you, too. So much.” She touched his unshaven face. “Didn’t you get any rest?”
“Actually, no.”
“But why—”
“So impatient. I’ll explain everything as soon as we get inside.” He grinned down at her. “Come on. I have a lot to tell you.”
“More than what we learned last night?”
“A lot more. I hope you’ll be pleased.” Scott opened the door and waited for her to enter.
She looked back at Brand.
Scott said, “This is company business.”
Voice firm, Sahara replied, “True, but he’s with me.”
Scott studied Brand, as if deciding.
Brand stepped up behind Sahara, his gaze daring Scott to question it.
Instead, Scott shrugged and gestured for them both to precede him.
Once in the conference room, Scott closed the door and strode to the seat at the head of the table—a seat normally reserved for Sahara. A quick glance showed Brand that his friends weren’t happy with the seating arrangement either.
Without missing a beat, Brand took Sahara’s arm and drew her to the opposite end of the long table, then took the chair to her right.
In brooding silence, Justice got up, retrieved the coffee and pastry near Scott’s elbow, and moved to sit at Sahara’s left, offering her the food. “I got this for you.”
Strangely flustered, she murmured, “Thank you,” and bit into the pastry.
Miles followed suit, carrying his coffee down the table to sit next to Brand. Leese got up to take the chair beside Justice. That left three empty seats on each side of Scott.
Oddly enough, the rearranged seating appeared to satisfy her brother. He leaned back in his chair, elbows on the arms, his fingers laced together. Looking down the length of the table, he said to Sahara, “They’re loyal to you.”
She took a fortifying gulp of coffee. “Actually, they’re loyal to the agency. They’re excellent bodyguards, Scott, always in high demand, assets to Body Armor—”
Brand covered her hand. “You don’t need to sell them, honey.”
She abruptly stopped rambling. “No, I don’t.” Chin lifting, she said, “With all the new high-level business we’ve brought in, the results speak for themselves.”
“They do,” Scott said softly. “But I never doubted it, sis. You would only hire the best. I know that.”
The vote of confidence cleared away her frown. “Thank you.”
He segued right into business. “Now, as you know, proving that Chelsea Tuttle plotted to have me killed would be impossible.”
Shooting halfway out of her seat, Sahara flattened her hands on the table. “You can’t give up! I won’t let her get away with this. One way or another, I’m going to see that woman—”
“Down, killer.” Scott laughed. “You’re always so ferocious.”
“It’s not funny,” she snapped, some of her natural vitality returning.
“No, I suppose it’s not, but relax, okay? It’s working out, I promise.”
“Oh.” She glanced at everyone with a tinge of embarrassment, then sank back into her chair with a renewed frown. “You better tell me that she’s going to prison for a very long time, because I won’t be satisfied with anything else.”
“All right.” Scott looked only at his sister. “Ross Moran once worked for me. You know that much. I’m not sure if he explained all of it, though.”
“Only that you still owed him money,” Sahara said.
“Very true. Attempted murder has a way of making you forget your debts, at least for a time.”
“And that the two of you had grown close?”
“I trusted Ross,” he confirmed.
Leese stared at Scott. “Enough to give him the passcode to your security system?”
Wincing, Scott explained, “He’s actually a security specialist, and yes, after I had a suspicion that I was being followed, he did know the code because he helped beef up the system.”
Justice snorted. “I made it better.” His jaw locked. “And unlike the goon you hired, I would never break in and attack Sahara.”
A flush rose up Scott’s neck and his shoulders tightened. “That was unforgivable. He claims to be taken with her—”
“And that justifies attempted rape?” Miles asked.
“If I thought he would have taken it that far,” Scott stated, “I’d kill him myself.”
In a lethally calm tone, Brand said, “I’ll handle that for you.”
Scott glanced at Brand, did a double take over the seriousness of his expression, and frowned. “I already explained things to him.” At that, Scott rubbed his knuckles. “When I found out he’d been in the house, and that he’d gotten out by the tree, I had it trimmed.”
Sahara’s eyes flared. “That was you?”
Disgusted, Scott said, “I’d snuck in to get more money by pretending to be part of a landscaping team.”
“Team?” Justice asked.
“The others with me really were from a landscaping firm.”
“More money?” Brand asked.
Scott gestured dismissively. “I kept gold and silver in a secret vault in the basement. That’s how I funded myself, since I couldn’t access any of my accounts.”
“You snuck in?” Sahara asked, wounded by the possibility. “You were there and never told me?”
“Until I figured out who’d tried to kill me, no one could know I was alive. By not telling you, I protected you.”
“By not telling her,” Brand stated softly, “you left her vulnerable to the likes of Ross Moran and his gang.”
“That was definitely an error in judgment, but how was I to know Ross would get enamored with her?”
Brand narrowed his eyes. “How could you think any man wouldn’t?”
Scott flattened his mouth. “Belie
ve me, he’ll be very careful around her from now on.”
So that there would be no mistakes, Brand sat forward and stated, “He won’t be around her ever again. Period.”
“As to that...” Scott shoved back his chair and began to pace.
Brand didn’t like it, but he knew Sahara well enough to let her handle things—as long as she handled them in a way that satisfied his protective instincts.
“You were wiser than me, Sahara.” Scott glanced at her. “You knew all along that Chelsea Tuttle was trouble.”
“More than trouble,” Sahara muttered. “She’s sick and dangerous and—”
“You remember when she hired guards from the agency?”
“Yes.” Disgust narrowed her eyes. “They reported back that she’d tried to use them in perverted sexual favors.”
Since they hadn’t heard the story yet, Leese, Miles and Justice stared in fascination.
“It seemed so far-fetched at the time,” Scott murmured, “I wasn’t sure what to believe. Overall she seemed spoiled, brazen, but mostly harmless. After she admitted to drinking too much and flirting—which she said they’d misconstrued—I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.”
“Big mistake,” Sahara said.
“Clearly.” He paused. “Maybe I’m better at judging men than women.”
Brand snorted. Far as he could tell, her brother sucked at that, too.
Ignoring him, Scott said to Sahara, “Chelsea later told me that you’d threatened her.”
“Did she?” Sahara smiled with chilling amusement. “Well, it’s true. And I have plenty of evidence to ruin her socially, even if it doesn’t get her locked up.”
“You told her to quit her games?”
“And to stay away from you.” Anger brought her brows together. “Apparently I didn’t go far enough to impress my intentions on her if she contacted you again after that.”
“Oh, you did. She believed you would ruin her—or worse. She made me swear I wouldn’t tell you about her visit to the agency because she said she feared for her life.”
“Then she’s not as dumb as I assumed.”
“Not dumb, no, but very cunning.” Scott looked at each of the men. “I trust what I say will stay confidential?”
Leese shrugged. “As you already pointed out, we’re loyal to Sahara.”
“We wouldn’t say or do anything to hurt her,” Justice added.
“You all work for Body Armor and that gives you certain credibility.” He turned thoughtfully toward Brand. “You, however, are an outsider.”
Brand smiled at the absurdity of that.
Before he could say anything, Miles spoke up. “He’s not officially a bodyguard, but you’d be an idiot not to see how protective he is of her.”
“It’s because I’m not an idiot that I’m being cautious.”
Sahara cast a worried glance at first Miles and then Brand. “You can speak freely, Scott. I plan to. I have complete trust in everyone here.”
Scott’s skeptical gaze lingered on Brand a moment longer. “We’ll talk about your role soon.”
With soft menace, Brand said, “I’ll look forward to it.”
Throwing up her hands, Sahara said, “That’s enough from both of you. We have bigger issues than macho pride.” She glared at her brother. “Spit it out already.”
Scott finally drew his gaze from Brand’s. After running a hand through his hair, he said, “Chelsea wanted Body Armor to provide security during a special event she had planned. Of course, she wasn’t exactly forthcoming on the type of event. She just wanted assurance that no one interrupted by hiring bodyguards to protect the perimeter of the property.”
“Ross told me part of this,” Sahara said, “but at the time I didn’t realize he was talking about Chelsea.”
“He knew not to mention it, not even to you. Especially to you. I told him I wanted you kept out of it completely.”
She stiffened. “You excluded me.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
Leese said, “So while you were keeping her in the dark, she was taking matters into her own hands.”
“Yes.” Scott gave a rueful laugh. “Knowing my sister, I should have realized what she would do.”
“Yeah,” Miles said. “You should have.”
“I could have told you,” Justice added with a snort.
Sahara rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t have kept things from me, period. I would have known how to deal with her. I’m not inept.”
“No, you’re not,” Scott assured her. “In fact, it was your reaction to Chelsea that first tipped me off and made me suspicious. I knew I had to figure out what was going on.” He took his seat again. “She was already familiar with all our bodyguards, so if they got caught surveilling her, it’d come back to the agency. Since I didn’t want that, I had to hire other men.”
“Ross Moran,” Sahara said with dawning awareness. “You hired him and his crew, didn’t you?”
Justice made a sound of disgust.
“Couldn’t have found someone ethical?” Miles asked.
Brand kept quiet, focused solely on Sahara and her reactions. Little by little, she was more herself, back in fighting form, and that pleased him. He just hoped her brother didn’t deliver a final blow.
“Someone ethical to snoop on the niece of a prominent public figure? A woman known for her sexual deviation? A woman who operated with immunity, who apparently bought off anyone who otherwise would have complained? Yeah, where would I find a guy like that?”
Miles, Leese and Justice each raised a hand.
“None of you were here at the time.”
“Because Sahara hadn’t yet taken over the hiring,” Leese pointed out.
Impatient, Sahara shushed Leese with a lift of her hand, then said to her brother, “Ross told me that your instincts were uncanny, so I’m guessing he discovered something?”
Scott picked up his coffee to take a sip. He spoke quietly, not looking at anyone. “Chelsea was throwing big parties where young, desperate prostitutes—women with nowhere to turn—were corralled together for the sport of all in attendance. She called it her gladiator games.”
Sahara clenched her hands into fists on the tabletop. “She’s gotten worse since I gathered my own recordings of her.”
Brand’s stomach twisted... Since I gathered my own recordings... Dear God. Chelsea was sicker than he’d ever imagined—and Sahara hadn’t just hired someone to track the psycho, as she’d implied earlier. No, she’d done that herself.
The risks she took left him in a futile rage.
“Jesus,” Leese muttered, staring at her.
“That’s how you planned to ruin her?” Justice asked with horror. “You snuck around behind a twisted chick who’s into pain, and you recorded her?”
“Yes.”
Miles sat forward, his expression fierce. “I know you, Sahara. You wouldn’t have stood by and let it happen just to get evidence.”
“No, I didn’t. But at the time I had promised Chelsea that if she quit her games and stayed away from my brother, all the details would remain private.” She turned to Brand. “She broke the deal, so now I’m not held to it either.”
“Agreed,” he said softly, still reeling from the danger she’d chased.
Sahara drew a deep breath, released it slowly, then admitted, “While they were all busy enjoying someone else’s pain, I snuck around the property and set off her fire alarms.”
Scott lifted a brow. “That’s genius.”
Brand wanted to slug her brother for encouraging her.
Shrugging, Sahara said, “It worked. In minutes, police and firemen were arriving, but I already had at least a minute or two of very incriminating evidence. I made sure Chelsea knew that I had several copies.” She looked at her brother squarely. “If you
can’t prove anything against her, I certainly can.”
Laughing, Scott rubbed his eyes, “You’re terrifying, you know that, right?”
“I know how to take care of business.”
This business, Brand wanted to say—just in case her brother had missed that significant fact.
“That’s obvious.” Scott sat back. “To stall, I agreed to provide services for Chelsea’s party. Of course, I had no intention of involving Body Armor, but I needed a strategy. While Ross was working his angle, I decided to distance myself by going out on the yacht with a girlfriend.”
“And that’s when Chelsea struck?” Sahara whispered.
“Men came aboard. You already know that they never recovered my date’s body.” Scott turned away, his gaze on the windows overlooking the city. “She and I weren’t close, but I should have protected her.”
“How many men were there?” Justice asked.
“Four, maybe five. They came aboard without my hearing them. We were sitting on the deck, enjoying the night, listening to music, and then suddenly they were there.”
Sahara huffed. “I should have taken care of her long ago.”
For some women, that would be an empty boast. Not for Sahara.
To soothe her, Brand brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I’d rather you not kill anyone.”
“And I’d rather she wasn’t involved at all,” Scott said.
Shifting with annoyance, Sahara said, “You’re both doomed to disappointment, because it’s clear that we have to do something.”
“Can you ID the men who attacked you?” Leese asked.
Scott shook his head. “It was dark and it all happened so fast. I might recognize their voices, but I just don’t know.”
Justice said. “So we still need proof.”
Scott actually smiled. “I believe Ross has it. For two weeks prior to the event, he and his men gathered intel for me, not only on Chelsea, but also on those people included on her guest list.”
“Douglas Grant?” Sahara asked.
“Oddly, no. Maybe because he really does feel related to her even though they don’t share blood, and maybe deep down he possesses a few vague ethics, but he’s never been involved with any of her sexual escapades.”