by Julie Miller
Nick grinned and looked toward his Jeep. “Nothing’s keeping me from spending the rest of my life with that woman.”
“Good. We all chipped in so Annie would get you out of our hair.”
Nick’s laugh echoed off the trees surrounding the cemetery, and Spencer felt the constriction in his chest easing a little bit.
When the laughter stopped, the two men stood in silence for several seconds, paying their respects and simply being. But the reprieve couldn’t last. “You know, Bailey Austin and Ellen Vartran aren’t the same person.”
Spencer stood half a head taller than Nick, was a better shot and had seniority over him. But the stocky, streetwise detective didn’t back away from anything.
Even forbidden topics between friends.
“Stay out of my love life,” Spencer warned.
A warning, which Nick duly ignored. “You don’t have a love life, buddy.” Even a well-practiced glare couldn’t deter him. “Are you still not over Ellen? Is that what’s holding you back?”
“Whatever Ellen and I had was brief and fiery and done. It was a younger man’s love.”
“Oh, yeah, because you are so over the hill at thirty-six.”
Inhaling a deep breath that chilled his lungs and cleared his head, Spencer tried to explain. “Maybe it’s the guilt you never get over. She used my phone that night in the safe house. Called her brother while I was in the shower, then joined me. Either she was distracting me from seeing the outgoing call or she was saying goodbye. When I came back the next morning, the safe house was already under attack. Her brother and the guard were dead. She was bleeding out.” He stared at the rose carved beside Ellen’s name. “I screwed up.”
“As I recall, you got shot trying to save her—and you took out one of the hit men. KCPD rounded up the rest of the hit squad and Dwight Powers put them away.”
“But it took us a lot longer to bring down the rest of the organization. Ellen died and I blew our investigation.”
“Bailey will testify.” Nick said it like he believed it. Like there was no way she could be intimidated into changing her mind. Like she couldn’t be harmed or killed. “Even if you screw up whatever you two should have going, she’s still going to take down Brian Elliott for us. I can feel it in my gut. She’s good for this.”
As much as he trusted Nick’s instincts about people, Spencer nodded toward the gravestone. “Even your gut can’t guarantee that.”
Nick propped his hands at his waist and challenged Spencer. “So what are you going to do about it?”
Spencer’s logical brain warred with the rusty armor guarding his heart. But he knew where his strength lay. “You got a report for me?”
Nick muttered a curse before pulling a notepad from inside his leather jacket and flipping it open. “I looked into Zeiss Security. Zeiss is retired German military and his employees are all bonded and look legit. I left Sarge doing her computer magic at the office—she’ll let us know if any of her in-depth research pops up anything suspicious.”
“What’s their connection to Bailey?”
“Zeiss subcontracts with Gallagher Security Systems and does most of the bodyguard and security work for GSS. They’ve been providing service for the Mayweathers for at least ten years.”
“So they check out. What about Max Duncan?”
“Former Army—did most of his stint as an MP at Fort Leonard Wood.” Nick snapped his notepad shut and put it away. “He’s not your delivery man. I showed Duncan’s picture to some of the other residents in Bailey’s building. No one recognized him.”
“I thought Corie Rudolf might be lying. She was just trying to score points with me. Like she’s my type.”
“Your type is a little classier. A little taller, a little blonder.”
“Nick—”
“Why can’t you just admit Bailey means something to you? I’ve never known you to lie to me, Spence. Don’t lie to yourself, either.” Nick puffed up like a fierce banty rooster beside him, daring him to deny the truth. “From the night we answered that rape call outside the Fairy Tale Bridal Shop, and you saw that the victim was Bailey Austin, this case has been personal for you.”
“Chief Taylor put me in charge of this task force. I’m not going to blow the D.A.’s case or our investigation. I’m not going to let Elliott get away with rape or The Cleaner get away with murder.” It was a valiant, solid argument.
But Nick wasn’t buying it. “Remember which of us is the more stubborn partner.”
“I thought you claimed to be the better-lookin’ one.”
Nick grinned. “That, too.” But he quickly got serious. “It’s okay to be happy, Spence. You saw what Annie and I could have long before I did.” He reached over and squeezed Spencer’s shoulder before giving it a smack and pulling away. “I’m trying to return the favor.”
Spencer tucked his chin against the wind and pointed toward Ellen’s marker. Damn it if Nick didn’t make sense. Or was he only wanting him to make sense? “What if it happens again? I can’t go through this twice.”
“You didn’t have me for a partner last time.”
Spencer arched an eyebrow. “That’s the argument you’re going with?”
“You know I’ve got your back. Look, I don’t know a more thorough cop than you. Don’t know one who’s smarter. You set ’em up and I finish the fight. Together, we get the job done. That’s always worked for us.” Nick patted Spencer’s shoulder and started up the hill. “Come on. I’m freezing my yum-yums off out here.”
“Tracking Bailey might be the best way to get a lead on The Cleaner,” Spencer pondered out loud. If the stalker was targeting anyone but Bailey, that’d be the logical step he’d take.
“Told you you were the smart one.” Nick had reached the side of the road. “Are you coming with us or heading back to Bailey’s?”
As he worked out the viable scenarios, Spencer followed Nick’s path through the snow. “I don’t know yet.”
Nick opened his door and a wave of warm air rushed out. “Just give me a call when you need that backup.”
Spencer waited in his SUV behind Nick and Annie at the cemetery gate. When the light changed, Nick pulled out to the right.
Spencer turned left.
* * *
“I’M SURE SHOPPING isn’t your favorite thing, Max.” Bailey heard herself apologizing for the second time as they stepped off the tall curb and hurried across the street with the rest of the crowd on Kansas City’s Country Club Plaza.
“Not a problem, Miss Austin.” He took her elbow and helped her over the next curb, pausing to get his bearings at the five-way intersection. “You said it’s up this way?”
She pointed to the tall sign outlined with white lights. “It’s a couple of storefronts beyond the coffee shop.”
He hurried her past a volunteer ringing a bell in front of a model train store. “I wish we could have parked closer. I don’t like being out in the open like this.”
Bailey gestured to the bumper-to-bumper cars lining the sidewalks. “Your only other option was to drop me off and find a parking space. And I know you didn’t want to leave me alone.”
“No,” he agreed, pulling her into step beside him again. “Mr. Zeiss said I was to stay with you until my replacement comes this evening. And I sure as hell don’t want that detective friend of yours breathing down my neck again.”
“No. We certainly don’t want that.”
Thoughts of Spencer Montgomery made her steps stutter, and Max automatically shortened his stride to stay beside her.
She thought she’d been happily content, working around her apartment today, baking cookies and wrapping more presents. But when Max had reminded her that she needed to get down to the Plaza, and he’d rather do that while there was still some daylight out, Bailey realized she’d been h
iding out. Maybe even feeling sorry for herself.
Wasn’t that the same thing as being a prisoner? She wouldn’t let difficult circumstances make her a victim again. Maybe Spencer hadn’t stayed. She understood that his work was more important than babysitting her until Monday.
But that kiss this morning had felt so right that she thought he was feeling the same irresistible draw she was. She didn’t have a crush on the man. It wasn’t gratitude. It was a bone-deep attraction to his strength, his intelligence, that protective nature, his unquestionable code of honor. And it had meant so much more.
That desperate, feverish embrace against the hallway wall was the first thing in a long time that she’d been sure of. She wasn’t a poor little rich girl who needed to be taken care of. She wasn’t a victim. She was a woman—real, strong, necessary.
It was as if all the jumbled pieces of her life this past year had finally fallen into place. Holding Spencer, tasting him, absorbing his strength—knowing he wanted her gave her confidence, made her feel stronger.
But the kiss had been a mistake.
Spencer didn’t want her in that way. There was some mutual lust there—she wasn’t so naive to pretend there wasn’t—but it hadn’t meant the same thing to him. He’d just gotten caught up in the moment and had been too exhausted to fight it. All he really wanted was a witness to close his case.
The crushing blow to her heart had nearly sent her to bed. And that’s when Bailey knew she had to get out of her well-appointed prison and do something with her day—do something with her life. She wouldn’t sit there and pine over a man who’d made it clear he didn’t want to want her.
It might not be much, but she could help her mother with the Christmas Ball. She could show up, be a gracious hostess and help raise lots of money for a good cause. She could reassure her mother’s fractured nerves that her daughter was safe and happy and okay. Well, two of the three. Maybe then her mother wouldn’t worry quite so much when Bailey took the witness stand.
Alleviating her mother’s fears. That was something useful she could do.
So she’d put on warm slacks, a sweater and boots, convinced Max that she had only one stop to make at the Plaza shops and braved the holiday crowds to pick up her dress for tomorrow night.
It was nice to have Max’s muscle clear a space for her through the tourists lined up to watch the animated window displays and the shoppers hurrying up and down the wide sidewalks to get to their next destination. Max didn’t have to touch anyone to literally clear a path. But something about the big shoulders and unsmiling face made people walk a wide berth around him, and since she was connected to him by his hand on her elbow, they walked a wide berth around her, as well.
Until the coffee shop door swung open and Corie Rudolf dashed out. “Bailey?”
“Corie?”
“Look out.” They would have collided with each other if Max hadn’t grabbed the door and pulled Bailey to a stop. “Everybody okay?” he asked, pushing the door closed and pulling Bailey into the vestibule in front of the shop.
Corie beamed a smile up at Max. “No harm done.”
But the shorter woman was juggling her purse, her cell phone and a tall cup of coffee. Bailey reached out to take the coffee for a moment before Corie spilled it down the front of her short coat and long, cream-colored scarf. “Oops. Not in the clear yet.”
“Thanks.” Corie tucked her phone into her purse and straightened the matching cream knit cap she wore before taking her coffee back. “That was a close one.”
“What are you doing here?” Bailey asked.
Max eyed the couple coming out of the coffee shop while Corie dodged the passersby on the sidewalk. “My date canceled on me. I remembered you said you were coming down to the Plaza, and I thought we could grab a coffee or maybe take in a movie?” She patted the side of her purse where she’d tucked her cell. “I was just calling your number to see if I could track you down in this crowd.”
Bailey glanced up at her bodyguard, and he was already shaking his head. “The movie’s out,” she explained to Corie. “We were on our way to the formal shop. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”
“Sure. Maybe I could try on one of those fancy dresses, too.” A gap formed in the stream of pedestrians on the sidewalk as the lights at the intersection changed. Corie backed up and started walking with them. She pointed to her tiny compact car as they approached. “I’m parked right here. Maybe I’d better put my coffee inside.”
Bailey agreed. “I’m sure the store manager won’t want that around his merchandise.”
“I’m glad I found you.” Whatever awkwardness Corie had displayed earlier was gone as she quickened her pace to get a few steps ahead. She looked around Bailey to Max. “I owe you an apology. I hope I didn’t get you into trouble with Detective Montgomery. I’m not very good with faces. But I do remember backsides, and yours...”
“Corie,” Bailey chided her with a smile. The woman was shameless.
All was forgiven, apparently, because Max grinned, flattered. “Mine’s better, right?”
Corie pulled out her keys to press the remote. “Let’s just say I certainly would have remembered—”
Bailey saw a flash of light beneath the hood of the car an instant before Corie flew into the air and the deafening shock wave of the exploding car knocked Bailey to the ground.
Fiery embers took a bite out of her cheek and arm. Her head rang with the concussive noise. Glass shattered and fell down like snow. The ball of fire burning in the street hurt her eyes and she looked away to see people running away, mouths open, screaming without making a sound.
She turned her head the other direction to see Max rolling on the sidewalk, clutching his leg. He had scrape marks along the sleeve of his coat and a hole at the elbow where the insulated material had been completely torn away.
Max was saying something to her, pointing toward the street. He repeated himself, maybe shouting this time because she could hear his words like a muffled whisper through the fog of her brain. “Are you okay? Is she okay?”
Bailey nodded. Other than the ringing in her ears and the burning on her cheek and wrist, she couldn’t feel any broken bones. Bracing her hands against the concrete, she pushed herself to a sitting position. She touched her fingers to her aching cheek and came away with blood on her glove. Her coat was grimy and torn, with more red drops staining the chest and sleeve. “I’m okay,” she repeated with more force, wondering if Max could hear her. “I’m okay.”
“What about Blondie?” She heard Max again, more clearly this time, and turned her head.
“Corie!”
The decorative shrubs near Corie’s shell of a car were burning. Corie lay at the base of the hedge, her chest panting with fast shallow breaths. There was blood in her ear, at the corner of her mouth. Her cream-colored scarf and hat were both turning red with the blood.
“Oh, my God.” Heedless of the aches and bruises of her own body, Bailey crawled across the ice-cold sidewalk to her friend. “Corie?”
She dragged her friend’s body away from the fire, apologizing for every shriek of pain she caused. When the heat from the burning wreckage felt less intense, Bailey unwound her scarf and wadded it up to place it beneath Corie’s neck. But then what? She needed to help, but didn’t know where to start. The head wound? The glazed eyes? The twisted shard of metal in her chest?
“Oh, Corie, I’m sorry.” Memories of broken watches and complicated devices of her own imagination filled her head. Annie Hermann had warned her of the possibility of a bomb—that the threats against her could have very real consequences. But Bailey hadn’t completely understood—Spencer had been right—she had no idea of the scope of the danger she was facing, no idea that anyone else could get hurt. Because of her. Her fault.
Suddenly, Bailey couldn’t catch her breath. Someone els
e was controlling her life again. Her eyes filled with tears at the enormity of what was happening here. Corie wasn’t the only one hurt. Max was, too. Maybe others. Someone else had a vicious, violent power over her. Over them all. She was helpless. Useless. Afraid.
“Stop it!” Corie’s unfocused eyes opened at her shout.
“You’re strong. You can take care of yourself.”
Spencer’s encouraging words, even as he’d been saying goodbye, echoed through her. Someone did believe in her. Someone thought she was strong enough to get through adversity.
She was strong enough. Bailey swiped the tears from her eyes and urged her shivering friend to look at her. “Corie?” She untied her coat and eased it off over the cut on her wrist. She could hear sirens in the distance now, horns honking, people shouting. “Corie? Can you hear me?” Bailey spread her coat over her friend, carefully avoiding the shrapnel on the left side of her chest. Then she scooped up Corie’s hand. There was no answering response, but she squeezed it anyway. “I need to go check on Max. Okay, sweetie? Don’t close your eyes.”
The wintry air seeping into her skin, and floating debris landing on her clothes barely registered. There was so much blood on the sidewalk beneath Corie. Her pupils were dilated, her skin so pale.
“KCPD! Clear the area. Get back! Bailey?” There was one voice in the crowd, shouting above the others—more intense, more authoritative than any other.
Spencer.
“Spence!” Bailey lurched to her feet. She spotted the red hair first.
“B!” He tucked his badge into his pocket as he pushed through the crowd. His long coat billowed out when he opened his arms and Bailey threw herself against his chest. His arms cinched around her, lifting her onto her toes as he pressed a kiss to her temple and surrounded her with his warmth and strength. “Are you okay?”
“I thought you weren’t coming back.” She locked her arms around him and turned her face into his neck, inhaling his clean, familiar scent. “Thank God, you did.”
“Are you hurt?” There was another quick kiss before he set her down and framed her face between his hands. Those cool gray eyes scowled like fury as they took in the cut on her face. “Ah, hell.” With his sharp gaze darting from one compass point to the next, he released her entirely and shrugged out of his coat. He swung it over her shoulders and buttoned it together at her neck. “You’re freezing.”