"I know you're both right." Elsa hated to admit that she needed help, that she could no longer handle this problem alone. As a general rule, she didn't lean on anyone, no matter what. She prided herself on being self-sufficient. All her life she had been the strong one, the one who took care of everyone else. Top off her powerful sense of responsibility with her monumental pride and you got the essence of who Elsa Leone was. She supposed it was a simple matter of not wanting to need anyone else because growing up she'd been let down so many times by her parents. When you needed someone, you became vulnerable. When you had expectations, you got disappointment thrown in your face.
"Jed Tyree is calling his old boss," Troy explained. "Grace said to tell you that there will be a Dundee agent here by tomorrow morning."
"What's a Dundee agent?" Leenie asked.
"A private bodyguard," Elsa replied.
Leenie's eyes widened and her lips curved in a provocative smile. "Ohh, how fabulous is that? Your own personal big, strong man to lean on. Sugar, it would make it almost worth the trouble of nearly being killed just to—''
"Shut up, Leenie!" Elsa attempted to jump up off the sofa, but found she was just a little more sore than she'd thought. After grimacing and forcing herself not to moan, she stood up, then glanced at Lurleen. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you, but I swear, sometimes you sound like a boy-crazy teenager instead of a highly successful woman with a Ph.D."
"Liking men and being an intelligent woman are not diametrically opposed concepts, you know."
Lurleen did her best not to smile, but Elsa caught her winking at Troy, who cleared his throat and knew better than to make eye contact with Elsa.
She glared at Leenie and then at Troy before she headed for the bathroom. "For your information, I don't dislike men."
"Oh, no, sugar, you don't dislike men," Lurleen said. "You just cut them off at the knees the minute they approach you. Sometime, when you can admit your problem, we should discuss what makes you distrust men and why you won't give one of them a chance to even get to first base."
"Right now certainly isn't the time to discuss what you consider my personal hang-ups."
Elsa hurried into the bathroom and slammed the door. As she stepped out of her heels and struggled out of her tattered pantyhose, she tried to think clearly, which required sorting through several different things going on in her mind simultaneously. First and foremost, she had to deal with the reality that someone had tried to kill her tonight. When she'd received the first threatening phone call, she'd passed it off as a prank. After the second call had come to the station, followed by a typed letter telling her to leave things in Honey Town just the way they were, she'd tried to figure out who wouldn't want the most crime-ridden area of Maysville cleaned up. Although she hadn't come up with a name, she surmised that whoever wanted to put a stop to the MGS group was someone with a great deal to lose if most of the crime was eradicated from Honey Town. Drug dealers. Pimps. Slum lords. Digging into the local underbelly of society would be the only way to unearth the truth.
Elsa tossed the ruined black pantyhose into the garbage, then took several paper towels, wet them and cleaned her scraped knees. The cold water both soothed and stung.
Lifting her gaze, she looked into the mirror. God, she'd applied too much makeup for tonight's fund-raiser. She looked like a damn clown. Jerking several more paper towels from the dispenser, she dampened them and then scrubbed off the rose blush and lipstick. The mauve eye shadow and black liner came off next. There, she thought, that's better. Now, to get out of this fancy dress.
She kept several changes of clothes at the station because it wasn't unusual for her to stay here around the clock. WJMM TV and radio stations were her babies, and since Grace had put her in charge of Sheffield Media, Inc.'s financially in-the-red Maysville stations nearly nine months ago, she'd worked tirelessly to update and improve the programming on both. Ratings were up. Sponsors were clamoring for spots. Profits were soaring. And even the old guard in this cliquish Mississippi town was singing WJMM's praises, thanks to Elsa's involvement with MGS.
Discarding her black satin dress, Elsa pulled a pair of jeans and a bulky knit sweater from the hanger on the back of the door. She found her loafers and thick socks in the linen closet. While dressing, she considered the best way to handle not only the police as well as Troy and Leenie, but how to soothe Grace Tyree's concerns.
Elsa stormed out of the bathroom and into her office, completely ignoring her brother and her friend as she plopped down in the swivel chair behind her desk and picked up the phone. When Troy asked her who she was calling, she didn't respond. After dialing the number, she tapped her fingers nervously on the desktop.
"Tyree residence," a male voice said.
Instantly, recognizing the butler's voice, Elsa said, "Yes, Nolan, this is Elsa Leone, may I speak to Grace, please."
"Yes, Miss Elsa. Certainly. And might I say, we sincerely hope you're all right."
"I'm fine, Nolan. Thank you for inquiring." While Elsa waited, she glanced from Leenie to Troy, then said, "I'm going to tell Grace to send one Dundee agent to act as my bodyguard and a couple more to help us investigate just who has a motive to want the MGS put out of business."
"That's great, sis. Smart thinking on your part. You can't stop this guy if you don't know who he is."
"These Dundee agents are multitalented, huh?" Leenie sighed. "Bodyguards and investigators."
"You know what you need, Leenie? You need a new boyfriend," Elsa said. "How long has it been since you and Pete broke up? Five months?"
"Six months, but Pete and I were never serious. However, you're right. I'd quit daydreaming about your big, strong bodyguards if I had a new man in my life right now. What I need is to find myself horizontal with a fine man. And soon."
"Leenie!" Elsa cut her eyes toward Troy.
"Oh, get real," Lurleen said. "Your baby brother knows a hell of a lot more about sex than you do."
Don't you dare blush, Elsa ordered herself. Blushing is for naive young fools. ' 'Comparing my sexual experience with my twenty-year-old brother's is not a topic I wish to discuss."
"Who's discussing it?" Leenie shrugged. "But since you advised me to get a new boyfriend, let me give you some advice—get a date, will you?"
"Okay, while we're on the subject—" she looked from Troy to Leenie and gave them a triumphant smile "—you might be interested in knowing that I happen to have a date for this coming Friday night."
"You're kidding," Troy said.
"Will wonders never cease." Lurleen tossed her hands outward in an expressive gesture. "Who's the lucky guy?" "Harry Colburn."
Lurleen let out a long, low whistle. "Sugar, when you decide to do something, you do it in a big way. Harry Colburn. What a dreamboat. But you'd better watch your step with him. I hear he's a smooth operator."
"Yeah, well, if he gets too smooth with my sister, I'll—"
"Shh." Elsa shushed them when she heard Grace's voice on the other end of the telephone line. "Elsa?"
"Grace, I'm sorry to bother you, but—"
"Are you really all right? Troy said you weren't hurt, only scared half to death. Jed has already called Sawyer McNamara, his old boss at Dundee's, and he's pulling Rafe Devlin off another job to send him to Maysville because Jed insisted Rafe was the only man for this job. Not only do you already know him, but Rafe was a Knoxville police detective for several years. He's the perfect person to head up a team to protect you and look into who's threatening you."
Rafe Devlin? Grace's husband had specifically asked for Rafe? Don't get in a tizzy, Elsa told herself. Just because she hadn't been able to forget the brief acquaintance she had made with Rafe while he was working with Jed back in Louisiana didn't mean he'd given her a thought. And just because he'd saved her life last year when she got herself in a jam while trying to get Troy out of trouble didn't mean he was her knight in shining armor; although at the time she'd thought of him that way. And
just because she'd responded to the man in a purely sensual— and completely uncharacteristic—way back then, didn't mean she would still find him devastatingly attractive.
She had a date with Harry Colburn Friday night, a date she intended to keep. Harry was a real catch. He was handsome, sophisticated and rich. And safe, she reminded herself. No butterflies, no skyrockets. Okay, so Rafe was good-looking, in a rough sort of way, but that's all he was. Compared to Harry, Rafe came up short. Rafe was not sophisticated. Not rich. And most worrisome of all—just looking at him put butterflies in her belly. If he were to ever kiss her. . . No, don't go there. Don't even think about it!
"Elsa? Are you still there?" Grace asked.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm listening. And I'm glad you're one step ahead of me. I was calling to ask if you'd hire Dundee's not only to protect me, but to investigate this situation, too. I'm not going to be frightened off and I won't allow anyone to stop the wonderful work the MGS is doing down in Honey Town. We'll just have to find out who wants to stop us and is willing to kill me to do it."
"Sawyer is putting together a team right now," Grace said. "They'll fly into Maysville tomorrow on the Dundee jet. I'll call in the morning to let you know what time to expect them."
"Okay. And thanks, Grace."
"By the way, I've spoken to Chief Fleming and told him I want him to provide police protection for you until the Dundee agents are in place. He assured me that his department will keep you safe. It seems you've become a vital asset to the Maysville PD."
Elsa smiled, but there was no humor in the involuntary reaction to the praise. "I promise that I'll do my best to not allow any of this to affect WJMM's ratings in a negative way."
"I should think the exact opposite might be true," Grace said. "If you go public with what's happening to you and why—''
"You want me to use the threats against me as a publicity—''
"No, not a publicity stunt," Grace assured her. "But the citizens of Maysville need to know the facts, and your being threatened just happens to be a great public-interest story. Believe me, Elsa, if I didn't feel confident that the Dundee agents could protect you, I'd advise you to leave town immediately."
"You wouldn't ask me to do that because you know I wouldn't go. I'm in this fight to the finish."
"Yes, I know. You always give your very best and see a job through to the end. That's one of the reasons I sent you to WJMM in the first place." Grace paused, then said, "I want a daily update. And if at any time you feel you can't continue, I'll understand."
As soon as she hung up the phone, Elsa turned to Troy and Leenie. "We're all set. The police will provide protection for tonight, and tomorrow a group of Dundee agents will arrive and take over the job."
"Hey, Rafe Devlin wouldn't be one of the agents, would he?" Troy asked.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, Jed asked for him personally."
"Who is Rafe Devlin?" Lurleen asked. "And why would—''
"He's a cool dude," Troy said. "He saved Elsa's life last year and helped save me, too. It'll be good to see him again, won't it, sis?"
"Yes, I suppose. . ."
"Now there's a guy for you," Troy told her. "He's a real down-to-earth sort, not a snobby I'm-Mr.-Wonderful-Handsome-and-Stinking-Rich type like Harry Colburn."
"Harry Colburn is not like that," Elsa said.
"Did you have a personal relationship with this Devlin guy?" Lurleen asked.
"That's none of your business. But for your information—so you won't keep bugging me about it—no, I didn't."
Troy grinned. "But he was interested. I could tell."
"He wasn't personally interested in me," Elsa said. "He did his job. That's all."
"Yeah, sure, if you say so." Troy's mouth curved into a know-it-all smirk.
"I say so." Elsa turned to Lurleen. "And I do not want you spreading rumors about Mr. Devlin and me. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal clear," Lureen replied.
Good! She didn't want anyone to think that there was anything more than a professional relationship between Rafe and her. After all, that was the truth. He had saved her life and Troy's life in his capacity as a Dundee agent last year. And when he arrived in Maysville tomorrow, it would be to act as her bodyguard, to serve on a team sent here by Grace to protect her and help her discover who was behind the threats on her life.
And if when she saw him again those damn butter-flies started dancing in her belly, she'd just have to find a way to either stop them or simply ignore them.
* * *
"She thinks I wanted to kill her," the man said. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"
"Yes, that's what I wanted. . .this time."
"When you're ready for me to finish the job, just let me know. In the meantime, the truck I used tonight is in the back of an eighteen-wheeler heading North. No way will it ever be found. If you need me before I get back from Memphis, just give me a call. I keep my cell phone on all the time."
"I won't need you. I don't intend to rush things with Elsa Leone. She needs time to let what happened tonight sink in. But I intend to keep the pressure on—nothing deadly—just nerve-racking. If I keep her busy worrying about herself, she won't have as much time to egg on these local do-gooders."
"It's none of my business," the man said, "and you're the boss, but if she's such a problem, why not just off her? Why prolong things?"
Why indeed? He'd asked himself that same question several times during the past few weeks. Was it simply because he found Elsa Leone interesting, even intriguing? Or was it because he'd like to be her lover?
"Let's just say that I have my reasons."
"Sure thing. Like I said, you're the boss."
"Yes, I am." The dial tone hummed in his ears.
He placed the receiver on the phone base, then turned off the light and walked out of the room. In the distance, church bells chimed midnight. Tomorrow he would call Elsa to check on her, maybe even drop by to see her. She needed to know that she could count on him, that he was someone she could trust.
Rafe Devlin grumbled a few choice curses under his breath as he boarded the Dundee jet. He was pissed that Sawyer had pulled him off his assignment in Vegas, a cushy job as the bodyguard for a multi-millionaire taking part in a high-rollers poker game—a very private game. He and Vic Noble had split the job into four shifts each twenty-four hours. Six hours on, six hours off. That way they each stayed rested and alert. . .and got plenty of time to enjoy the sights and sounds of Sin City. Domingo Shea had been sent in to replace Rafe. They shook hands and exchanged a few words, passing each other as Dom departed and Rafe boarded the jet.
Sawyer hadn't even called him personally—he'd had Dundee's office manager, Daisy Holbrook, give him his orders. Okay, so Sawyer was on a ski trip in Aspen with his current lady friend and would have gotten Vic Noble, second in command, to assign this job to the available agents if Jed Tyree hadn't called in a favor. Sawyer had felt obligated to take a personal hand in the matter. As it was, Rafe didn't know anything about the assignment, other than Jed had specifically requested him for the job.
"Jed wants you heading up the team," Daisy had said.
"Remind me to thank Jed personally," Rafe had told her sarcastically.
"We're sending Dom in to take your place. Frank and Kate will be your backup and the investigative team. They'll be on board the jet and y'all will fly directly from Vegas to Maysville, Mississippi. Frank and Kate will brief you once you're onboard."
The Dundee jet was luxurious, modern and state-of-the-art. Impressive stuff for most, but not for him. Not many people knew that he'd been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, the grandson of a Knoxville entrepreneur who'd invested in Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge property before both towns became Smoky Mountain tourist attractions. His father had increased the modest family fortune, turning a few million into close to half a billion dollars before his untimely death at forty-two. His parents had been killed in a fog-related vehicle pileup on I
nterstate 75 when he was fourteen. At the time, he'd been a spoiled, always-in-trouble kid. His older sister Cassandra—Sandy to those who knew and loved her—had done her best to parent him, but he'd fought her every inch of the way. He'd gotten messed up with drugs at fifteen, involved himself with the wrong crowd and put his twenty-year-old sister through pure hell.
No one at Dundee's, other than Sawyer and the big man himself, Sam Dundee, knew all the details about Rafe's background. As far as the other agents knew, he was nothing more than a former Knoxville cop who had retired early.
"Welcome aboard," Kate Malone said with a warm smile as she held out a cup of what he assumed was coffee. Kate made great coffee.
After accepting the dark blue mug bearing the yellow-gold Dundee Agency emblem, he sat in one of the leather seats and took a hefty swing of the hot, dark brew. Black, one sugar. Kate always remembered how her co-workers took their drinks—coffee, tea, liquor.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
She sat across from him, lifted her briefcase off the floor and snapped it open. "Frank's up front with the pilot and copilot. He'll join us shortly."
Rafe nodded. Kate Malone was a pretty woman. Trim, blond, attractive. And classy. Yeah, Katherine Malone was a class act and everybody at Dundee's recognized her for the lady she was. He didn't know her all that well, but what he did know, he liked. She and Lucie Evans, another Dundee agent, were good friends, and he did know Lucie well. They were buddies, and he trusted her judgment when it came to others.
"I don't know how much Daisy told you—"
"She didn't tell me much of anything." Rafe sipped on
his coffee.
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