Downright Dangerous

by Beverly Barton

  "Nothing. Just thinking out loud."

  Elsa breathed a sigh of relief once the TV interview ended. Noon news anchor, Chad Wells, rose to his feet when Elsa stood and removed the miniature microphone attached to her sweater.

  "Thanks." Chad patted Elsa on the back. "You did great. The phones have been ringing off the hook all morn­ing. The whole town is up in arms about what happened. You, my dear Ms. Leone, are Maysville's heroine."

  Elsa swallowed. She didn't accept compliments easily. Maybe because she wasn't accustomed to them. Having grown up in a household without even one loving, sup­portive parent, Elsa had never been told she was pretty or smart or talented. Childhood scars took a long time to heal. Sometimes never completely healing.

  "I'm no heroine, believe me." Elsa stepped down from the podium on the news set, leaving Chad there to continue once the commercial break ended.

  Leenie stood in the background, along with the news­room crew, who applauded Elsa as she passed by them. She offered them a tentative smile, then all but ran out the door and down the hall. She wanted the normalcy of her old life back, the life where she was in charge, where she ran things and stayed strictly in the background. 1 Just as Elsa neared the reception area, Leenie caught up : with her. "Slow down, will you? I'm wearing heels, so I'm not equipped for the hundred-yard dash."

  Elsa glanced down at Leenie's three-inch mules, a shocking shade of orange that matched the orange blouse she wore beneath her tailored cream wool jacket. "How do you walk in those?''

  Leenie laughed. "Honey, these aren't for walking, they're for making me look sexy and for gaining male attention."

  Elsa laughed. Suddenly relief washed over her. She reached over and socked Leenie on the arm. "You're good for me, you know that?"

  "Of course I am. That's why we're friends. You need me to put a little sunshine and spice in your life, and I need you to slow me down a notch or two, to help me stay grounded."

  "How about lunch? I didn't eat a bite of breakfast and I'm suddenly hungry. How about ordering from Drake's or we could go. . ." She glanced at the uniformed police­man standing guard near the entrance. "Forget going out. We'd need a police escort for that, and the last thing I want is to bring more attention to myself."

  "Eating in is fine with me. I want a chili dog and onion rings," Leenie said, then sighed. "But I'll order a salad with diet dressing."

  Elsa smoothed her hands down her hips. "We'll make that two salads."

  Out of the corner of her eye, Elsa noticed Officer Peck stand at attention, then the front door swung open, which meant whoever was entering possessed the entrance code. By the time she realized who had gained the policeman's attention, Troy came rushing in, followed by three peo­ple—a tall, lanky man wearing a rumpled trench coat, a trim blonde in a white wool coat and a broad-shouldered, long-haired tough guy in a leather jacket. Elsa's heart skipped a beat. She turned and stared at Rafe Devlin, who moved ahead of the other two Dundee agents, coming up alongside Troy.

  The man was as devastatingly attractive as ever. Trim, naturally muscular, with a bad-boy look that should send women running in the opposite direction, but more than likely drew women to him. His brown hair was sun-streaked and overly long. And he looked as if he needed a shave.

  "I met them at the airport," Troy explained. "I ran Rafe by the house to drop off his bag and—''

  "What are you doing missing classes?" Elsa glowered at her brother.

  "I didn't miss my morning class and I've got time to make it to my two afternoon classes, so chill out, sis, will you." Troy slapped his arm around Rafe's shoulders. "He's here. Everything is going to be all right now. Rafe will find out who tried to run you down and why. And in the meantime, he'll keep you safe."

  Elsa groaned inwardly. Troy hero-worshiped Rafe Dev­lin. That fact was apparent to everyone. She held out her hand to Rafe. "Thank you for taking this case, Mr. Dev­lin."

  "Mr. Devlin?" Troy chuckled. "Heck, sis, this is our man Rafe. You act like we don't know him, that we don't owe him our lives."

  Rafe accepted her hand, shook it and released it, all without saying a word or looking directly at her.

  The attractive blond agent came forward, a pleasant ex­pression on her face. "Hi, Ms. Leone, I'm Kate Malone. I worked with Rafe and Jed and Dom Shea on Grace Beau­mont's case."

  Elsa and Kate shook hands. "Yes, I remember you, Ms. Malone."

  "Kate, please. Frank and I are here to investigate what happened to you and try to find out who and why."

  Leenie sauntered up to the tall, lanky agent who Elsa didn't know. "So, tall, dark and rumpled, who are you?"

  The man grinned. "I'm Frank Latimer. Who are you, Slim?"

  Leenie licked her lips. "Lurleen Patton. I'm a psychia­trist. I've got my own talk show here on WJMM." Being her ever-flirtatious self, Leenie said, "Elsa and I were just talking about ordering lunch, but now that y'all have ar­rived and can provide safe escorts for us, why don't we all go out to eat? Drake's is just a few blocks over and—"

  "Lunch is a good idea," Rafe said. "Frank, why don't you and Kate go with Ms. Patton? I'd like to talk to Ms. Leone alone for a few minutes, then we'll join you."

  Before she could reply, Rafe cupped Elsa's elbow and herded her toward the door marked with her name. When they reached the door, he loosened his hold on her and grasped the doorknob. Once inside her office, Elsa spun around and glared at Rafe. He shoved the door closed and met her stare head-on. When his hazel eyes focused di­rectly on her, a shiver of sexual excitement danced up her spine.

  "I'm not sure why we needed to talk privately," Elsa said. "We could have discussed everything in front of Troy and Leenie. I trust both of them implicitly. Troy is my brother and Leenie is a loyal friend."

  "I thought we needed to set the record straight and put a few ground rules in place."

  Having no idea what he was talking about, Elsa stared at Rafe. "I'm confused. What record? What ground rules?"

  "Our past association. Your feelings for me. And my being ordered to take this job." Rafe looked her over from shoes to chin before centering his gaze back on her face. "If I'm going to work as your personal bodyguard, I want to—"

  "If?" Elsa sucked in a deep, exasperated breath. "What do you mean if? Grace hired the Dundee Agency, didn't she? It's your job to—"

  "I didn't volunteer to take on this assignment," he told her. "So if you thought I did. . .well, I didn't. Jed specifi­cally requested me for the job, and Sawyer took me off another case to send me here."

  "And you're upset with me because you were reas­signed? If you didn't want this job, why didn't you just say no?'' Something odd was going on here, Elsa thought, something she hadn't quite grasped. Think. Think. What had he said? Something about their past association, about her feelings for him. Oh, great, just great. "What did Troy say to you when he met you at the airport?"

  "Look, he didn't come right out and say anything about your having the hots—" Rafe cleared his throat "—about your being interested in me. But he thinks I took this job because I've got personal feelings for you and—"

  "Wait just a minute!" Elsa held up her hands in a stop gesture. "Are you trying to tell me that Troy implied that I. . .that we. . .that you and—" Elsa groaned. She couldn't believe this was happening. She was going to kill Troy!

  "I thought we should get this out in the open, and if it's going to be a problem, then I can call Sawyer and have him send in another agent." Rafe shifted uncomfortably.

  Elsa saw red! "Mr. Devlin. . . Rafe. . ." She walked right up to him, pasted a patronizing smile on her face and said, "I do not have the hots for you. I'm not the least bit interested in you as anything other than my bodyguard. And you can rest assured that my feelings for you, which are totally professional and not personal, won't change if you decide to continue with this assignment."

  "Then you're saying Troy was mistaken."

  "He thinks you're attracted to me and wanted to come to Maysville so you could play the role
of my big, strong protector. He was wrong about that, wasn't he?"

  Rafe nodded. "Yeah, I see what you're saying. Troy wants to see us together and he's dreamed up a romance between us. I'm sorry if I. . .well, I apologize for assum­ing—"

  "In future, don't assume anything where I'm con­cerned."

  "Sure. I understand. And I want you to know that it's not that I don't find you attractive, it's just that—"

  "Mr. Devlin, I suggest you shut up while you're still ahead," Elsa said, eyeing him speculatively.

  "Maybe we should join the others for lunch, then af­terward have a group meeting to discuss the situation. Kate and Frank will want to get started on the investigation as soon as possible, and I'll need to discuss your schedule and take the proper precautions to keep you safe twenty-four/seven."

  Twenty-four/seven, Elsa thought. This man—this insuf­ferably arrogant man—was going to be with her twenty-four hours a day. He would live in her home, share her meals, watch her like a hawk. And all the while, in the back of his mind, he'd be thinking she was infatuated with him because of Troy's overactive imagination. She planned to have a serious talk with her brother. The last thing she wanted or needed was Rafe Devlin assuming she'd been pining away for him the past year. She might find him interesting. And maybe he'd stirred up a few but­terflies in her stomach, but he certainly wasn't the man she wanted. If she wanted any man—and she wasn't sure she did—she wanted Harry Colburn.

  Picking up her purse from her desk, Elsa glanced toward the door. "Ready when you are."

  As they walked out, she avoided any physical contact with Rafe, but when they reached the front door and Of­ficer Peck opened it for them, Rafe slid his hand under her elbow. Picking up the pace, she hurried out the door and away from Rafe's innocent touch. Outside they walked together toward the parking lot.

  Elsa paused just before reaching her car and said sweetly, "I really don't know whatever gave Troy the idea that I had any personal interest in you. I already have a boyfriend."

  "Is that right?"

  "Yes, that's right."

  Rafe shrugged as if to say, "So?"

  "As a matter of fact we have a date Friday night."

  "This Friday night, huh? Well, I hope your boyfriend isn't the jealous type and will understand why I'll be a third wheel on that date."

  "You're going on my date? But that won't be necessary, not with Harry there to protect me."

  "Is Harry a professional bodyguard?"

  "Well, no. He's a businessman."

  "I'm your protector, Ms. Leone. That means I'm on duty around the clock and you go nowhere without me. Not even on a date. Until this case is solved and you're completely safe, I'll be your shadow day and night."

  Yeah, that's what she'd thought. Goodie, goodie. She could request another Dundee agent to guard her, but if she did that she'd prove Troy right about her having a thing for Rafe. But if she had to spend day and night with the sexy Mr. Devlin, she'd have to fight her stupid, totally unwanted attraction to him. She was in a no-win situation.

  So, suck it up, Elsa. You've got more serious problems than keeping your hands off Rafe Devlin.

  Chapter 3

  Rafe had endured lunch with Elsa, all the while feeling like a total idiot for having assumed she had a major thing for him. God, what had he sounded like to her when he'd warned her off? An egotistical ass, that's what. He'd cer­tainly started this assignment off on the wrong foot. He should have known better than to listen to Troy.

  Admit it, Devlin, a part of you liked the idea that Elsa might have been pining away for you since you two first met. You don't want to believe that you've thought a lot more about her this past year than she has you. It wasn't that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever known or the most feminine or the most alluring. But there was something about her—something that drew him to her against his will. Despite her I-can-take-care-of-myself at­titude, there was a vulnerability about Elsa that made him want to protect her. And maybe part of the attraction was her devotion to her family, especially to her once­delinquent brother Troy, which reminded him of how hard Sandy had tried to help him when he'd been a teenager.

  "Are we ready to start?" Elsa asked as she closed her office door and glanced from Kate to Frank, deliberately avoiding direct eye contact with Rafe.

  Small-boned and slender, almost petite, Elsa looked fragile in her casual jeans and bright-red sweater, but Rafe knew better. She was as tough as nails.

  "Anytime you're ready," Kate replied. "After we go over all the facts with you, Frank and I will talk to the police, get their report and analyze whatever evidence they'll share with us."

  "Once that's done, we'll contact headquarters and put Dundee's vast resources to work unearthing exactly who has the most to lose down in Honey Town if that area of Maysville becomes crime free," Frank said.

  Frank had an easygoing smile, and projected a laid-back attitude, as if very little fazed him, as if he never lost his cool. The exact opposite of Rafe, Elsa thought. She sus­pected Rafe had a short fuse and very little patience.

  Elsa took a seat behind her desk, then motioned for the others to be seated. ''I'll tell you whatever I can, but you already know the basic facts. And the police report will have all the details about last night. They have my state­ment, plus several other statements—Troy's and Leenie's and—"

  "There's no need for you to rehash last night's events." Rafe eased down in one of the two leather chairs facing Elsa's desk. He crossed one long, lean leg over the other, undid his jacket and settled back against the soft, plush leather. "And we don't need any more info on your par­ticipation in the MGS. We have those basic facts. What we need is any information. . .or any gut feelings you have about who might want you dead."

  Elsa breathed deeply, inhaling and exhaling slowly as her mind absorbed the question, one she had asked herself a hundred times since last night. "I don't have any idea who wants to kill me. There are drug dealers and pimps and a slew of penny-ante criminals over in Honey Town, but —"

  "I doubt it's some lower-echelon hood." Frank flopped down on the sofa beside Kate, sprawling his big-boned, lanky frame into a comfortable position. "My guess is that you're stepping on some mighty big toes."

  Elsa stared at Frank quizzically, puzzled as to who might fit that description. "Are you talking about the Dixie Mafia?"

  "Probably," Rafe said. "The guy driving the truck last night was more than likely a hired hit man, and it's pos­sible that his orders were to frighten you, not kill you."

  "But he did nearly kill me."

  "If whoever gave the orders had wanted you dead, there are more reliable weapons than a truck," Kate said.

  "A gun, for instance," Rafe added. "A long-range shot straight to the head is most effective."

  Elsa shuddered. "Thanks for painting such a graphic picture for me."

  "I don't believe in sugar coating things." Rafe slid to the edge of the chair, casually dropped his hands between his knees and leaned forward toward Elsa. "While this MGS group has been fighting crime in Honey Town, have y'all run across any info about who's in charge of things down there?"

  Elsa shook her head. "No, sorry. We've dealt with what Mr. Latimer referred to as the lower-echelon criminals— the prostitutes, pimps, drug addicts and petty drug deal­ers."

  "You don't know the name of even one heavy hitter?" Kate asked.

  "No." Elsa realized how superficial the MGS's cleanup campaign really was. They had been treating the symptom, not finding and destroying the malignancy itself.

  "Don't feel as if what y'all have done in Honey Town up to this point has been for nothing," Kate told her. "You had to start somewhere, with the obvious, with what you could see."

  "But now it's time to dig deeper and unearth the snakes who live underground." Rafe's gaze met Elsa's.

  A shiver rippled through her as her gaze locked with his and she found herself unable to look away. "What can I do to help?"

  "Tell us who the movers and
shakers are here in Mays­ville," Rafe told her. "Who's rich? Who's powerful? Who runs the show?"

  "Do you mean law-abiding citizens? But how will nam­ing—"

  "Let's go with power first." Rafe eased to his feet.

  Elsa's gaze followed his every move as he walked over to the windows facing the rear parking area of the station and glanced outside.

  "Who's the mayor and what do you think of him?" Kate asked.

  "Noah Wright. He was elected by a landslide. Good Christian man. Married. Two children. Owns the dry clean­ers and several coin laundromats in town."

  "Police chief?" Frank asked.

  "Van Fleming. Also married. One son. Well liked."

  "I heard something in your voice," Kate said. "What are you not saying about the chief of police?"

  "Nothing really. It's just that. . .well. . .I've heard he's a bit of a ladies' man."

  "You heard he was or he hit on you personally?'' Rafe turned to face her, his green-flecked hazel eyes seeming to look deep inside her.

  "He hit on a friend of mine."

  "Dr. Patton?" Frank asked. "I can see why. Your res­ident shrink is quite a looker." Kate cleared her throat.

  Frank chuckled. "Sorry, Ms. Leone. I tend to be a bit of a chauvinist pig sometimes. I certainly didn't mean any offense to Dr. Patton. I meant what I said as a compli­ment."

  "It's all right," Elsa replied. "Leenie wouldn't be of­fended. Besides, she rather likes chauvinist pigs. Believe me, she can hold her own against any man."

  Adeptly changing the subject, Rafe asked, "Who's the most respected man in town? Who's the richest? Who's old money? Who's new money?"

  Elsa huffed. "Dr. Bruce Alden is one of the most re­spected men in town. He's the president of Maysville Ju­nior College. Nella Southwell is the grande dame of Mays­ville society and her money is about as old as money can get, as is her nephew's money. Ellison Southwell Mays's ancestors founded this town. And as far as new money, then the richest guy in town is Harry Colburn, who is a personal friend of mine."

  "He's the guy you've got a date with Friday night?" Rafe asked.