Downright Dangerous

by Beverly Barton

  They sat there in Elsa's bed, drinking hot chocolate and listening to the occasional creaks and moans an old house makes during the night. The mantel clock's soft ticking grew louder and louder in the hushed silence. Outside the winter wind picked up, whipping the limbs of a nearby tree against the windows.

  "Finished?" Rafe asked.

  Startled by the sound of his voice after the lingering silence, Elsa jerked. "Huh?"

  "Have you finished your cocoa?"

  Glancing into the mug, she saw half an inch of chocolate liquid. She downed the last drops and handed Rafe her mug. He set his mug and hers on the nightstand, then with­out another word scooted closer to Elsa and slipped his arm around her shoulders. She tensed, uncertain how to react. But when he cuddled her closer to him, instinct took over and she laid her head on his shoulder.

  "Try to relax," he said, his deep voice amazingly sooth­ing.

  She closed her eyes and allowed her body to melt into his as she snuggled against him and draped her arm across his waist. He brushed his cheek against her temple. She sighed.

  "Please, Rafe, just hold me." I'm so alone, she wanted to say, but couldn't. I'm weary. I'm frightened. And I need you so desperately.

  He kissed her temple. "I'm not going anywhere. You rest, honey. I'll stay right here and keep you safe in my arms until morning."

  She told herself that it didn't matter who he was or whether he would be there for her in the future. Tonight she needed Rafe's strength. For a few hours she wanted to pretend that he was her white knight who would slay drag­ons for her.

  Elsa yawned, then sighed heavily. She couldn't remem­ber ever feeling so safe and secure. So totally at ease with another human being. Her eyelids opened and closed sleepily.

  "Thank you. . .for taking care of me," she told him. His gentle voice saying, "It's my pleasure," was the last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep.

  Chapter 11

  Large, gnarled hands tightened around Milly's throat, choking her. The child opened her mouth on a silent scream. You're killing her! Stop! Don't hurt her. I'll do whatever you want me to do.

  Waking with a start, Elsa's mind in that half awake, half asleep state, she gasped for air as her eyelids flew open. Perspiration drenched her body. Her heart raced wildly. She sat straight up in bed.

  It was just a dream, she told herself. A nightmare.

  Rafe stirred beside her. "What's wrong?"

  "What time is it?" she asked, then suddenly realized he was still in bed with her. "Why are you still here?"

  "By the light showing through the curtains, I'd say it's dawn." He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, then checked the clock. "Actually, it's after six. And as for my still being in bed with you—sorry about that. I fell asleep sometime after you did."

  Elsa hugged herself in an effort to stop trembling.

  Rafe grasped her shoulders. "You're shaking like a leaf. What happened? Bad dream?"

  She nodded. The image of those large, vicious hands around Milly's neck had seemed all too real. Apparently her subconscious had brought her fears to life. "Someone was choking Milly, trying to kill her."

  Rafe squeezed Elsa's shoulders. "It wasn't real. Milly is safe. J.J.'s with her. No one is going to hurt your little sister."

  "Whoever is behind the threats against me wants me running scared. He wants me to back off. He wants to defang the MGS and make them powerless. And now he's discovered my weakness—Milly and Troy and Sherrie."

  "All three of them have Dundee protection. They're safe, honey." He lifted his hand to her face and shoved back a lock of hair that had fallen across her cheek. "You're safe."

  "Is that a hundred-percent guarantee?" When she looked into his eyes, she felt herself hypnotically drawn to him, as if he was trying to send her some sort of telepathic message.

  Rafe clutched the back of her head, his fingers splayed out over her hair. "That's a solemn vow. Anybody wants you, they'll have to come through me first."

  "Rafe, I. . .I—"

  Her words died on her lips when he kissed her. Fast, sudden, with an urgency that allowed her no time to resist. She had wondered what it would feel like to kiss Rafe, and now she knew. As his mouth ravaged hers, his hand on her head held her in place. Of their own volition, her arms lifted and draped around his neck while her body pressed into his. Every fiber of her being tingled with sex­ual awareness. She was on fire. And Rafe was the fuel that had ignited the blaze and kept it burning.

  She didn't realize he had unbuttoned her pajama top until she felt his hands on her breasts, kneading tenderly, his thumbs raking over her nipples. She sighed, then groaned, the pleasure keenly intense. A shudder rippled through her, and her femininity moistened. Every womanly instinct within her longed to mate with him, to become one with him in the most elemental way.

  Rafe painted a damp trail from her lips to her breasts. While he laved one tight nipple with his tongue, he wor­ried the other nipple with his fingers. Elsa cried out.

  "Did I hurt you?'' he whispered against her breast.

  "No, no. . .please, Rafe. . .we have to stop."

  "Why, honey? I know you want this as much as I do."

  How could she deny the truth? She did want him, more than she'd ever wanted anyone. But this was the wrong time, the wrong place—and he was the wrong man. Wasn't he?

  She shoved him away and tried to redo her unbuttoned top. "I don't want a brief affair. Not with you. Not with anyone." She scooted to the edge of the bed, glanced back at him and shook her head. "It's wrong. All wrong. I don't mean anything special to you. I'm just a woman you want. And if we followed through with this, I'd regret it later."

  "You're not being totally honest with yourself or with me," he told her.

  Get away from him now, the sensible part of her mind demanded. If he touches you again, you won't be fighting only him, but yourself as well. You've taken care of your­self your whole life. Don't ignore your survival instincts. Especially not now.

  She got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom, then paused in the doorway, her back to him. "I do want you. Desperately. But it's not really you I want, it's that white knight alter ego of yours that turns me on." She heaved a deep sigh. "Was that honest enough for you?''

  At nine forty-five, Rafe and Elsa arrived at Maysville Memorial to pick up Troy and found him outside Alyssa's room arguing with her father. Rafe wasn't surprised. Troy was in love with Alyssa Alden and was determined to find a way to see her. Dr. Alden had apparently been guarding his daughter with the tenacity of a bull dog, determined to keep Troy away from her. Scanning the area, Rafe noticed a man he didn't recognize standing several feet away, watching and listening, but not interfering. Since Frank had phoned Rafe an hour ago to let him know the new Dundee agent had arrived to guard Troy, Rafe figured that the big, solidly built roughneck was Geoff Monday. The guy possessed that rugged warrior look he'd seen in other Dundee agents who had either served with the special forces or had worked as mercenaries. Monday had done both.

  "Just let me see her for a few minutes." Troy's cheeks flamed; his voice quavered. "I love her. I want her to know I care. She just lost our baby. She needs me."

  "What Alyssa needs is you out of her life. If you love her, go away and leave her alone," Bruce Alden said.

  "You don't understand—" When Alden turned his back on Troy, the boy grabbed the man's shoulder. Alden whirled around, murder in his eyes.

  "Troy!" Elsa ran down the hall as she called her brother's name. Several nurses on the floor glared at her.

  Before she reached Troy, his bodyguard interceded by gripping the boy's shoulder and dragging him backward, out of harm's way. Troy didn't resist. Rafe thought the kid looked pitiful, with his bruised cheek, his busted lip and his left arm in a sling. Not to mention the unshed tears in his eyes.

  His face red, his eyes bulging, Dr. Alden stood there with his hands balled into tight fists. When Elsa put her hand on Troy's back, Monday stepped aside.

  R
afe went up to the other Dundee agent. "Geoff Mon­day?" he asked.

  "That's right. You must be Devlin." He held out his large, broad hand and the two exchanged a cordial shake.

  "Come on, Troy. Now isn't the time to try to persuade Dr. Alden to let you see Alyssa," Elsa said. "Now is the time for you to come with us to the police station and fill out a report on the wreck. You want to find the person responsible for what happened to you and Alyssa, don't you?"

  "Yeah, sure I do, it's just—"

  "Rafe talked to Chief Fleming this morning and he's already started an investigation into what happened. But he wants to get your eye-witness report."

  "Yeah, okay," Troy said. "Only, I really need to see Alyssa first."

  Elsa slipped her arm around her brother's waist and led him a few feet down the hall. ' 'The last thing Alyssa needs right now is to see you and her father arguing. She knows how Dr. Alden feels about you. She'll know he's keeping you away from her."

  "Sis, please, you've got to—"

  "Later," Elsa told him. "I promise we'll find a way for you to see Alyssa."

  Troy heaved a deep sigh.

  "Are we ready to go?" Rafe asked.

  "Yes, we're ready," Elsa replied.

  Rafe and Geoff Monday fell into step directly behind Elsa and Troy as they headed for the elevator. Monday gave Elsa a once-over, the typical male appraisal of all even remotely attractive women. When Monday's gaze jumped from Elsa's slender hips to Rafe's face, Rafe re­alized he'd been glowering at his fellow agent. Grinning, Monday nodded at Elsa, and his sharp blue eyes silently questioned Rafe. Without a word being spoken, Rafe un­derstood the question. "Is she yours?" Rafe narrowed his gaze, tightened his jaw and nodded. In that moment, he had laid claim to Elsa. He had warned off yet another man. Hell, he'd warned off Harry Colburn, too, but the guy hadn't backed down. Whether he liked it or not, he had become more than just a little possessive of Elsa. And that wasn't like him. The last woman he'd been that obsessed with had been his fiancée, a woman he'd thought he loved. You did love Kendra, he reminded himself. If you hadn't loved her, losing her wouldn't have hurt so damn bad.

  Was it possible that he'd fallen in love with Elsa?

  Nope. No way. He'd sworn off love after Kendra.

  So, if he didn't love Elsa, why did the idea of another man—any other man—even looking at her make him see red?

  You're in lust, buddy boy, he told himself. You want Elsa. You want her bad. The lady is playing hard to get, which makes her a challenge. And you love a challenge.

  "We don't have much evidence." Van Fleming sat on the edge of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. "The paint off Troy's truck from the vehicle that ran him off the road is about all we have. That and some broken glass, which could be from the headlight on the vehicle. Since it was dark and Troy can't identify the driver, all we have to go on is that paint sample, a few glass fragments and the fact Troy says the vehicle was a tan van."

  "Surely there's something you can do. Can't you search

  for the van? It probably has paint off Troy's truck on it and the front end and right side should be damaged." Elsa sat in front of the desk, her ankles crossed and her hands in her lap. Rafe could feel the tension radiating from her.

  "The van was probably stolen," Rafe said. "And the driver no doubt dumped it somewhere, even in another state. We're not dealing with amateurs. Whoever is behind the threats against Elsa is using professionals."

  "Are you saying that the law can't catch profession­als?" Elsa glared at Rafe, then confronted Van Fleming. "There must be something you can do."

  Fleming grimaced. "I'm sorry, Elsa. I wish we had more to go on. But the fact is we can't be sure that this incident had anything to do with the threats against you."

  "Don't be a jackass, Fleming," Rafe said. "Of course it had something to do with the threats against Elsa. There is no other plausible explanation for why a stranger would deliberately run two teenagers off the road and try to hurt them."

  Chief Fleming's face flushed; he cleared his throat. "Look, Devlin, I don't like this any better than you do, but without some hard evidence, how the hell am I sup­posed to arrest anybody?"

  "I don't give a damn about the driver of the van or the guy who nearly ran over Elsa or the woman who ordered a funeral wreath for Milly Leone," Rafe said. "I want the man who gave them their orders."

  "And how do you suggest we go about finding him?" Fleming asked.

  "That's what Dundee's is doing—unearthing informa­tion on anyone connected with Honey Town. Anyone who has something to lose if that area of Maysville is cleaned up. We're going to find our man. You can be sure of that."

  Rafe noted the police chief's odd expression and the way the color drained from his face. Van Fleming might have more to hide than his extramarital affairs. Or maybe not. It could be no more than him having frequented one of the prostitutes in Honey Town and being scared he'd be found out.

  "Of course your agency will share any pertinent infor­mation with the police department," Fleming said.

  "Of course." Rafe motioned to Geoff Monday, who stood by the door. "I think we're finished here, aren't we, Chief?"

  "Yes. All I needed was Troy's eye-witness account." Chief Fleming got to his feet, shook hands with Rafe and then Elsa. He held her hand a fraction longer than neces­sary, which irked Rafe.

  Monday escorted Troy from the chief's office into the police station. Rafe and Elsa followed. When the foursome walked outside onto the sidewalk, tiny pellets of frozen precipitation peppered down on them and chinked against the concrete walk. Sleet. Not uncommon in northern Mis­sissippi in January, Rafe thought as he unlocked the Honda.

  "I'll drive," he told Elsa.

  "Why?"

  Damn stubborn woman. "Because it's sleeting and the roads will get icy pretty fast."

  "Are you saying you're a safer driver than I am?"

  "Hell, Elsa, just let me drive, will you? Don't make a federal case out of it."

  "Oh, all right." Stomping around to the passenger side of the car, Elsa didn't wait for Rafe or anyone else to open the door for her.

  Once inside the Honda, Troy leaned over Elsa's shoul­der from where he sat in the back and asked, "Can we go to the hospital now? Maybe Dr. Alden's gone and I—"

  "We have a meeting with Frank and Kate," Rafe said. "Why don't you come along and give your sister a little moral support. Later tonight, after Alyssa's dad goes home, I'll get you in to see her."

  "Yeah, okay," Troy said somewhat reluctantly. "Thanks, man. That's great." He eased back in his seat and turned sideways to stare out the window.

  Rafe glanced in the interior rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of Troy, a trickle of tears dampening his cheek. Poor kid. No matter what he did, he seemed to screw up. Rafe felt for him. There had been a time when he'd been a lot like Elsa's kid brother. Every time he thought he'd finally cleaned up his act and had a real future—a shot at a normal life—something screwed it up. Usually some­thing he did or didn't do. He sup-posed that was one reason he'd given up on marriage and kids and one of those sto­rybook endings for his life.

  Fifteen minutes later Rafe steered Elsa's car into her private parking spot at WJMM, and the foursome got out of the Honda and entered the studio. When they reached Elsa's office, they found Kate and Frank waiting for them. Monday introduced himself to the other two Dundee agents, then took guard duty near the closed door.

  Once Rafe, Troy and Elsa were seated, Kate said, "I just made a fresh pot of coffee, would anyone like some?"

  Each person declined the offer.

  Kate sat down beside the desk, reached over and patted the top of four neatly stacked file folders. "We have some interesting reports on several major Maysville citizens. Frank and I thought we'd brief y'all, give you the main points, then if either of you—'' she glanced from Rafe to Elsa ''—wants to read over the reports for the particulars, you can."

  Sitting behind Elsa's desk, Frank reached out and pulled the fir
st folder from the stack. "First off, we have the chief of police."

  "Van has a personal connection to Honey Town?" Elsa asked.

  "In a way," Frank replied. "Do you know Fleming's son, Anthony?"

  "I know him," Troy said. "Sort of. I've seen him around. I heard he got kicked out of Ole Miss last year and that's why he's attending the junior college here."

  "Anthony Fleming has a major drug problem," Kate said. "Or at least he has had. The boy's been in rehab twice in the past three years, a fact his parents have man­aged to keep secret. Our sources say that Anthony's major drug source is in Honey Town. Some guy named Big Mike. And it seems that although Chief Fleming knows who this guy is and supposedly has had the chance to nail him more than once, for some reason he hasn't followed through."

  "That suggests somebody is pulling Chief Fleming's strings," Geoff Monday said.

  "Probably blackmailing him," Rafe added. "If Big Mike goes down, so does Anthony Fleming, or that's what someone has the police chief believing."

  "So, Van is trying to protect his son. How does that have anything to do with the threats against me?" Elsa glanced around the room, her gaze questioning each Dun­dee agent.

  "It might not," Frank told her. "But it does give the chief a direct connection to Honey Town and possibly a personal interest in protecting a drug dealer."

  Kate picked up the next folder and opened it. "Then we have Mayor Noah Wright."

  "Noah?" Elsa shook her head. "I can't believe you found out anything bad about him. He and his wife are staunch members of MGS."

  "For several years now, Noah Wright has frequented a prostitute named Cassie Dover who does business in Honey Town," Kate said.

  Watching Elsa closely, Rafe noted the look of disap­pointment in her eyes. People she respected, people who had joined MGS and supported her efforts to clean up Honey Town were turning out to be less than honorable.