The Bodyguard

by Sheryl Lynn

  McKennon smiled indulgently. “If you want to be alone with me I can think of better places. Flour sacks and bulk spices aren’t my idea of romance.”

  She snorted a laugh before clapping her hand over her mouth. She glared at him. “This is serious,” she said. “I was watching Max.”

  “Any reason in particular?”

  He maintained that cool, detached air, but she caught a glimmer of humor. Annoyed, she poked his chest with a finger. “You know my reasons. And do you know what I just saw? He’s flirting with Agent Patrick.”

  His lack of reaction dismayed her.

  “I think they know each other. From the way he was hanging all over her, they know each other real well.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions.”

  She clamped her arms over her chest. “What other conclusion can I reach? He’s whispering in her ear and she’s lapping it up. He was practically nibbling on her ear.”

  “That’s the way he is.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  He stared past her as if the lineup of dried onion, garlic powder, oregano, basil, marjoram and thyme were fascinating.

  She bristled with suspicion. “What are you saying? He makes a habit of hitting on women?”

  “That, too.”

  His meaning was crystal clear. Her mouth dropped open. “He cheats on Belinda?”

  “Discreetly.”

  “That is disgusting!” She stomped a tight circle. “How could you work for a philanderer?”

  His cheeks darkened. She drew back in amazement. He was actually embarrassed.

  “The money is good, and it’s none of my business.”

  “Unbelievable. He’d risk losing Belinda’s money for an afternoon quickie?”

  “She’s aware,” he said.

  “That’s even more disgusting. If Max had ever cheated on me I’d have killed him.” She paused uncertainly. “Did he cheat on me?”

  McKennon’s silence filled volumes.

  She backed up a step, striking the shelf. The dusty smell of flour heightened the oppressive sense of closeness. “He did cheat on me. And you knew. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “That he was seeing another woman.”

  “You would have believed me?”

  He had her there. She’d been so madly in love, Oliver Stone could have presented her with videotaped evidence and she’d have laughed in his face. Old hurts rose in her breast, aching as if fresh. Adding to it was the humiliation of knowing McKennon knew she’d been an utter fool.

  He grasped her shoulders. She tried to shake him off, but he held her firmly and forced her to look at him. “I don’t like what he did to you.”

  “Yeah, well, that sure didn’t stop you from sitting back and watching it happen.”

  He winced. “I deserve that.”

  She craved details. She wanted to demand the name of the other woman—or women! The impulse sickened her. Get over it, she told herself. It no longer mattered.

  “I compromised too many principles working for him,” McKennon said.

  She peeked, finding him serious and perhaps a little bit sad. “I know what it’s like to really need a job.”

  He made a disgruntled sound deep in his throat. “It’s finally sinking in. When Jamie wakes up he’s going to care less that I got the money and more about how I got it. I’m sorry for standing by and saying nothing.” He exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry for not asking you out first.”

  Her eyes widened. “You wanted to ask me out?”

  “You’re an interesting woman.” He cupped her chin in his palm. “Beautiful, too.”

  The hurt faded fast. She couldn’t blame him for turning a blind eye to Max’s shenanigans when she’d done the very same thing herself. And for much the same reasons. Max had dazzled her with a juicy paycheck and a juicier benefits package long before he dazzled her with his romantic attention.

  “So what are we going to do about Max? He isn’t merely flirting with Agent Patrick. He’s convincing her that I’m the prime suspect. He sent Belinda home. That leaves him free and clear to go after me.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Ross!” Frankie flung her arms around her cousin’s neck and hugged him until he grunted.

  Alerted as if by telepathy, the Dukes gathered in the lobby. Elise kissed her son. Kara clapped her hands and bounced around like a puppy. Even the normally reserved Janine gave Ross an enthusiastic hug. The Colonel clapped Ross on the back.

  “A hero’s welcome.” Ross grinned. “It’s about time you all started showing some appreciation.” With one arm around his mother and the other around Kara, he nodded at the pair of FBI agents who’d accompanied him to Colorado Springs. “We’re all set.”

  Frankie turned her attention to the suitcases the FBI agents lugged. Four large suitcases, which were heavy, too, judging by the way the men strained.

  “How are the roads?” Frankie asked.

  “Colorado Springs is a slush pool, but the highways are clear. The weather forecast tomorrow is for clear skies and warmer temperatures. There shouldn’t be any problems at all with the ransom drop.”

  Frankie wanted to believe it. She tried her best to believe it.

  “According to my new best friends here,” Ross said, “we still have a lot to do. Right, fellows?”

  An agent said, deadpan, “Right, Mr. Duke.” The other agent cracked a smile. The men loaded the bulky suitcases on a luggage cart. Everyone headed for the dining room.

  McKennon fell in beside Frankie. He brushed her hand. Knowing the action deliberate she smiled.

  The smile disappeared when she saw Max. He stood to the side, out of the way of the FBI agents, who cleared papers, maps, coffee cups and dishes off the long table. Frankie made a point of ignoring her ex-fiancé.

  Agent Patrick supervised laying out the suitcases and opening them. As the three million dollars were revealed, a hush settled over the room. Even Frankie, who’d never set much store by the accumulation of wealth, sucked in her breath. Neat bundles of twenties, fifties and hundreds bound in paper bands had a strangely hypnotic quality.

  “Sheesh, makes you want to roll around in it,” Kara said. Heads turned. A few people chuckled. The young woman blushed and ducked.

  “Let’s get to work, boys,” Agent Patrick said.

  “What are you going to do?” Frankie asked. “You promised, no hotdogging, no heroics. Right?”

  The agent smiled indulgently. “For your benefit, let me explain exactly how this will work.” She nodded graciously at Elise and the Colonel. “Mr. and Mrs. Bannerman arrived at the resort in a stretch limousine. We can’t use it for the drop. Mr. Duke has provided a Jeep Cherokee equipped with snow tires and chains. The vehicle is equipped with a tracking device in the event that the kidnappers hijack it.”

  Frankie looked around at the gathering of agents and state police officers. None of them resembled Julius. “Who’s making the drop?”

  With a wave, the agent indicated a slender man with a long face and droopy eyes. The man approximated Julius’s height and weight, but other than that didn’t resemble the man in the least. Frankie didn’t like it.

  “He’ll be wearing a parka with a hood and sunglasses. The unsubs will be interested in the money, not his face. He, too, will be wearing a tracking device. The Jeep’s radio has been modified into a transmitter. It looks like a car radio, but he’ll be able to use it for one-way communication. If the vehicle is hijacked we’ll hear everything the unsubs say.”

  “Slick,” Frankie muttered. She still didn’t like it.

  “We’ll rig the suitcases with tracking devices,” Agent Patrick said. She picked up a bundle of hundred-dollar bills. “We’ll also rig several money bundles. The devices have a limited range, but the units are small enough to hide beneath the paper bands. Should the unsubs switch the suitcases we can still track the money.”

  Frankie glanced at a map pinned to the wall. Red circles along the route the FBI r
inger was supposed to drive made her suspicious. “How many cops will be posted out there for the kidnappers to see?”

  “The official presence will be one hundred percent covert, Miss Forrest. No air traffic. No official vehicles. No radio communications for the unsubs to intercept. We will take no overt action of any kind until your sister is safely in our custody.”

  “Everything is covered,” McKennon whispered in Frankie’s ear.

  Grudgingly, she conceded the point. With one exception: Max Caulfield. She’d learned earlier that the FBI monitored every call going in or out of the resort. Max had his own telephone, though. With a single call he could tip off his accomplices about the bugs and tracking devices along with the location of surveillance teams.

  “Now if you’ll excuse us,” Agent Patrick said. “We need room to work. We’ll rendezvous in the lobby at 5:30 a.m. Thank you.”

  All civilians, except for Elise and Max, left the dining room. Frankie guessed Elise made arrangements for feeding the law officers, but as to why Max was allowed to remain she hadn’t a clue.

  A hearty meal awaited them in the kitchen. Savory stew redolent of onions and celery, baskets of fresh bread and corn muffins, bowls of fresh fruit and cinnamon-spiced apple pies. Elise joined them, but appeared unable to stay seated. She flitted about freshening drinks and fetching jams and jellies.

  Seated between Ross and McKennon, Frankie picked at her food, her appetite diminished as much by the late hour as by her ragged nerves. Chatter swirled around her. She noticed nobody mentioned Penny or the ransom drop.

  She couldn’t get Max out of mind. If he’d murdered Julius, would there be any kidnappers at all to collect the ransom? He must be surprised the Dukes were able to raise the money.

  She leaned close to McKennon. “I need some fresh air,” she whispered.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered back.

  His concern touched her. She managed a wan smile. “I just...I need to move. I’m ready to climb the walls. Want to take a walk outside?”

  He wiped his mouth with a napkin, complimented Elise on the dinner and excused himself. Too nerved up to make a reasonable excuse, Frankie merely left the kitchen. She didn’t have the heart to share her fears with her relatives. The Dukes suffered enough over Penny’s loss without having to worry about Max, too.

  She and McKennon fetched hats, gloves and coats before heading outside. As soon as she stepped into the night her breath seemed to freeze in her chest. She gasped, instantly chilled. Icy air latched on to her cheeks as if with claws. She shivered inside her parka.

  McKennon made a soft exhalation of wonder. The night was perfectly still and perfectly silent. With only a sliver of new moon to obscure their glory, billions of stars blanketed the sky. The surrounding trees looked like silhouettes brushed with silver snow.

  “I never see a sky like this in the city,” he said.

  “Yeah,” she said, “it’s gorgeous.” She hurried along a pathway cut between five-foot-tall drifts. “I’m freezing!” She aimed for the stables. Every footfall crackled and squeaked on the icy snow. She tried the big sliding door, but couldn’t budge it. Whether locked or iced over she didn’t know. A smaller door opened easily. She entered the stables.

  A lone low-watt lightbulb filled a supply room with soft, shadowy light. Slapping her arms and stomping her feet she loosed a long breath. “Whew!”

  McKennon looked around. “Not much warmer in here.”

  “A little bit wanner.” She made sure the outside door was securely shut before entering the stables proper. She found a light switch on the wall near the door. Horses shuffled on straw and whickered greetings. The smell of sawdust, horses and sweet feed wafted into her frozen nose. A dark horse thrust his head over a stall door and snuffled. His thick winter coat made him look bearded and as fluffy as a toy. She petted his nose. Hot horse breath seeped through her knit glove.

  “I have a confession to make,” McKennon said. He strolled the aisle, patting the noses of curious horses. “It’s been a long time since I’ve made love to a woman, and you’re beautiful.” He grinned crookedly. “But damn, Frankie, it’s cold.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “That’s not why you want privacy?”

  “You are such a jerk!”

  He laughed. The rare sound enchanted her. She could listen to his laughter all day. All night. To her left was an empty stall with a bed of straw laid thick and inviting on the floor. A striped horse blanket draped over the stall wall. Tempting.

  “I’m kidding,” he said.

  Disappointment pinged her. She hadn’t brought him here for a tryst—not that she had the time, energy or inclination, anyway. Still...

  “You don’t want me to be kidding?”

  She swiped the air impatiently with both hands. The dark horse snorted and pulled back into the stall. “I didn’t bring you out here for sex.”

  “Good. We ought to at least have a first date.”

  The promise in his words unnerved her. She glanced at the empty stall, and her cheeks warmed. In spite of the circumstances, McKennon turned her on. She felt a connection with him she’d never felt with another human being. He seemed to understand her, but more than that, he approved. He saw the real Frankie and liked her, anyway. He was an exciting man, and ever since he’d kissed her, she’d wanted more. She crammed her hands deep into the pockets of the Frankenstein coat.

  “I want to talk about Max. But I don’t want to worry my family.”

  He stroked the snowy blaze of a sorrel horse. “I knew that.”

  “Why is he here? Why didn’t he go home with Belinda?”

  “He has a vested interest in Penny’s safe return. She’s Mrs. Caulfield’s daughter-in-law, and a witness to Julius’s murder. Knowing Mrs. Caulfield as I do, I’d guess he’d better not go home unless he’s carrying news of an arrest.”

  “He’s surprised we came up with the ransom money. But I don’t think anybody is going to pick it up. It’s not part of Max’s plan.”

  “I’m in no way agreeing with you, but for the sake of argument, even if Caulfield is involved, three other people are involved, too. We know for a fact they have Penny.”

  She got his point. Accomplices needed to be paid.

  “And, if he’s involved, why harm Penny? Without Julius she offers no threat.”

  “Unless she really is pregnant. That gives her a solid claim against Julius’s estate.”

  “He has no estate. Any money his mother gave him he spent.”

  “Oh.” The horse was leaving wet streaks on her coat. She gave him a final pat and moved out of reach before he began chewing her hair. “Then who’s the insider?”

  “If it’s only money and they didn’t mean to hurt Julius, then it could be anybody. If it’s murder...” He turned his hands palms upward. “Like you said, ex-wives, ex-girlfriends. Maybe he caused some trouble with one of Mrs. Caulfield’s employees.”

  “Is there any way we can find out? Records or something?”

  He pondered the question. “Maybe.”

  Hope leaped in her heart like a joyous animal. “There it?”

  “Mrs. Caulfield insists on meticulous records keeping. I can check the computer.”

  “Now?”

  His eyes sparkled with humor. “Not right here.”

  She huffed in exasperation. Frozen breath clouded in front of her face.

  “I should be able to access the records over the phone. Caulfield backs up everything onto his mainframe. But, you have to kiss me first.”

  “I never realized you were such a sexist, chauvinistic pig.” She sashayed down the sawdust-strewn aisle. She glanced at the empty stall, tempted yet again. Straw trapped body heat...

  He pressed a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”

  “You’ll know when I wound you, buddy.” She kissed him. His lips were cold, but her thoughts were not. Touching him, smelling him, made all her dreams pale by comparison. Fabric crackled and crunch
ed as he hugged her tightly. She wanted to do a whole lot more than merely kiss.

  “JANINE.” Frankie gestured from the kitchen doorway. Her cousin excused herself from the table.

  “Are you okay?” Janine asked. She flashed a cursory smile at McKennon.

  Frankie bristled. She suspected she looked like hell at the moment Her face was probably bright red from the cold and her hair was its usual mess. She sniffed. Despite the stress Janine looked stunning. With a word she could have McKennon falling at her dainty feet.

  Realizing she felt jealousy appalled Frankie. She prided herself on the ability to rise above petty games—like Who has prettier hair? Who has a better figure? She’d never once indulged in nasty gossip or made catty remarks. She’d never competed for a man’s attention or tried to make herself look better at another woman’s expense. Even with Max she’d passed off his attention toward other women as merely being the way he did business.

  Now, visions rose of shoving Janine into a snowdrift until her perfect complexion mottled purple and her luxurious hair hung in icy strings. A sly crack about a stain on Janine’s shirt struggled for release. She managed not to say anything, but couldn’t resist sliding over a step to put herself squarely between McKennon and her cousin. Arms clamped over her chest, she towered over the smaller woman.

  “Frankie?” Janine peered at her. “What is wrong? You have the funniest look on your face.”

  “I was wondering if you have a laptop computer with a modem we could borrow.”

  Janine twirled a strand of chestnut hair around her finger. “Yes, but why?”

  McKennon glanced toward the dining room. The sound of voices drifted through the doorway. “I want to check some files.”

  “Maybe we can get a lead on the kidnappers,” Frankie added.

  “Is that legal? Isn’t that what the FBI is doing?”

  No, it wasn’t legal. Since he’d been fired, McKennon’s snooping around was akin to theft. Still, greater good prevailed. “The FBI don’t know these people the way McKennon and I do. We might spot something they can’t see.”