Watch Your Back

by Rose, Karen

  ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘I want a promise from you.’

  His brows lifted meaningfully. ‘You want me to promise not to try to change your mind?’

  Her cheeks flamed. ‘No. I mean, yes, I want that, too, but . . .’ She blew out a breath that sent her bangs dancing on her forehead. ‘I want you to help me find out who’s doing this.’

  ‘I’d already planned on that.’

  ‘I don’t know which cops I can trust. Helping me could mean doing things that aren’t entirely . . . aboveboard.’

  He grinned. ‘That’s supposed to scare me away?’

  Her lips twitched minutely. ‘Somehow I thought that’s what you’d say.’

  He sobered. ‘If we don’t catch whoever’s after you, you’ll be hiding forever.’

  Her eyes became sad. ‘And if I walk away and take Cordelia with me when it’s over?’

  He found he had to swallow hard before he spoke. ‘I’ll survive. Until then, I’ve got your back.’ He started to stand again and this time she didn’t stop him. ‘I’ll go make the arrangements with JD.’ He nudged a bag of peas, no longer frozen but still cold. ‘You should put those on your face if you don’t want Cordelia to know you’ve been crying.’

  Chapter Six

  Baltimore, Maryland, Saturday, March 15, 7.00 P.M.

  ‘He’s got it bad for her,’ Alec said softly.

  Emma glanced away from her study of Clay and Stevie at the kitchen table to the young man sitting next to her on the sofa. ‘I can see that.’ She adjusted her hold on Cordelia, now asleep. ‘You worry about him.’

  ‘She broke his heart. And there he is, lining up to get it broken again.’

  ‘He’s an adult, Alec. I’m not sure there is much you’d be able to do to change his mind.’

  ‘He does have a pretty hard head.’

  ‘Then this should be interesting, because Stevie’s head is made of solid cast iron.’

  Alec’s lips curved. ‘You’ve known her a long time, then.’

  ‘Eight years.’

  He nodded. ‘Since her husband died. Do you normally befriend your readers?’

  She blinked at him. ‘How did you know . . . ?’

  ‘I Googled you. Your husband died in a robbery, just like Stevie’s.’

  ‘It’s true. Her brother, Sorin, had emailed me about her, asking if I’d meet her. You know how you meet someone and feel like you’ve known them for years? It was like that for Stevie and me. She’s hardheaded, but she’s also one of the most genuine people I’ve ever known.’

  In the kitchen, Clay stood up, his face an expressionless mask. But it hadn’t been. Throughout his and Stevie’s conversation, a whole range of emotions had flashed across his face, from grief to anger. Intense yearning to sad resignation.

  Emma looked up at Clay when he stopped in front of her. ‘What’s the plan?’ she asked.

  ‘Where are the cops?’

  ‘Outside, processing the crime scene,’ Alec answered. ‘We’ve got uniforms at the front and back doors. One policewoman upstairs, packing bags for Stevie and Cordelia.’

  Crouching, Clay looked up at them. ‘They’re coming with me,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Where?’ Emma asked in the same conspiratorial tone.

  ‘Don’t want to say until we’re gone.’

  ‘Well then, make sure your vehicle’s big enough for one more, because I’m going.’

  He shook his head. ‘You should be home, with your own kids.’

  ‘My own kids are frolicking with their grandparents at the “Happiest Place on Earth”. I’d just be in the way of their annual spoilage. I’m sticking, for a few days at least.’

  Clay frowned at the sleeping Cordelia. ‘I need to talk to you, out of her earshot.’

  ‘She’s asleep.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said, scooping Cordelia into his arms with a gentleness that tugged at Emma’s heart. There was something about a rugged, shirtless man holding a sleeping child to make a woman all fluttery. Why had Stevie sent this man away when she so clearly felt something for him? It had been all over her face at the restaurant in the moments before the window shattered.

  Shattering lives with it. So move, Emma. There are important things to be done.

  She stepped away from the sofa so that Clay could settle Cordelia in. He did, making sure the blanket was tucked securely around her. ‘Don’t leave her side,’ he told Alec.

  Cordelia opened her eyes, narrowing them. ‘I want to know what’s happening,’ she said.

  Clay’s lips twitched. ‘I thought you were faking it. When it’s safe, I’ll tell you what I can.’

  ‘That’s what grownups always say,’ she grumbled.

  ‘I know. But I’m not most grownups. When I can, I will. I promise. I can tell you right now that we’re getting you and your mother away from this house.’

  The relief in her eyes was unmistakable. ‘Because the man with the gun will come back?’

  ‘Maybe. I’m not taking any chances with your safety. Or your mother’s.’ He smoothed her hair away from her face. ‘If there’s anything you want to take, anything you can’t sleep without, tell Alec. He’ll make sure it’s packed.’

  With that he rose and motioned Emma to follow him. Into the bathroom? Indeed, that was where he was gesturing she should go. He shut the door behind them and motioned her to the toilet.

  ‘This is the only room with a door on this level and there’s a cop upstairs. You should sit.’

  She obeyed, studying him as he studied her right back. ‘What do you need to tell me?’

  ‘The red car, the one that shot at us? The driver had been following Alec and Cordelia and me, but in a different car. I lost him, but he changed cars and came here. He was at the restaurant, too. Since he missed Stevie then, I think he planned to shoot Cordelia, so that Stevie would come outside. He lucked out when she ran out to yell at us. She was exposed and too angry to care. Emma, I need you to listen. He was willing to hurt a child to get to Stevie.’

  ‘I’m glad you told me to sit.’ And then his implication became clear and her heart began to race, new terror crashing over her. ‘You think he might go after my kids, too?’

  ‘I think he’s ruthless. Either he hates Stevie or he’s paid by someone who does. If you or your kids were hurt it would kill her. Don’t put any of us in that position. Please go home.’

  Emma rubbed her forehead, her thoughts all a jumble. ‘This has been a really shitty day.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  She made herself think logically. ‘My kids are at Disney World with my parents and my in-laws. None of them go by “Townsend”, my pen name, so it would be difficult to find them at their hotel. I’m private about my family. No photos of my kids online. They’d have to dig to find them. I think they’re safer if I don’t go leading crazy assassins to them, don’t you agree?’

  Clay seemed to consider that. ‘Possibly. But do you want to take that risk? You were with Stevie this afternoon, and again tonight. He’s seen you twice. You’re clearly important to her.’

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘You are good. Now I see how you convinced her to go with you.’

  His shrug was modest, but his eyes were sharp. He was much more than eye-candy, for sure.

  ‘My first inclination is to run home as fast as my legs will carry me,’ she said honestly. ‘Or, a plane works, too.’ That earned her a begrudging smile from the stern-faced man. ‘My second, perhaps wiser, inclination is to hire private security for my family. Hopefully this will be over soon and all the kids will remember is making their grandfathers puke in the spinning teacups. Sometimes I get crazy stalkers, so I already have a security service.’

  She met his gaze head-on. ‘You need someone to stay with Cordelia when you’re out investigating. Some
one she trusts. This isn’t the time to be bringing in strangers to watch her and you don’t want to waste your best talent babysitting. I can do that. I can also handle a gun. I never leave my house unarmed when I’m at home.’

  She lifted her brows, on a roll. ‘Since your state doesn’t recognize my concealed carry permit, I’m unarmed. If you don’t count this.’ She pulled a switchblade from her pocket, flicked it open. Watched his eyes widen. ‘I’ve been threatened before, so I went to self-defense classes. I’m not a black belt like your partner, Paige, but I’m not afraid to fight dirty.’

  He eyed her knife carefully. ‘How do you know about my partner?’

  ‘I Googled you. You’re not that hard to find online. You guys haven’t been low profile.’

  After a moment he nodded. ‘Have your security firm contact me. I’ll brief them.’

  ‘That I can do. I appreciate the help.’

  ‘I won’t keep you from your family too long, but I’m grateful to have you with Cordelia and Stevie tonight. Thank you, Emma. I mean it.’

  ‘Um, let’s just keep my going with you between us for now, okay? Stevie’ll have a cow and blow our cover.’ She winked at him. ‘See, I learn fast.’

  ‘I can see that.’ He opened the door, then motioned her to go ahead. ‘After you.’

  She had a thought as she passed under his arm. ‘What about Izzy?’

  He grimaced. ‘I forgot about her. She’s photographing a wedding. She texted me that the reception would go on past midnight and they asked her to stay, but that was before all this happened. I’ll let Stevie decide what to tell her.’

  ‘It’s not gonna be pretty, seeing as how Izzy lied to her. But Izzy did the crime,’ she said with a shrug. ‘She’ll have to do the time.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I told her. I think we’re going to get along fine, Dr Walker.’

  She smiled up at him sweetly. ‘Hurt my friend and we won’t.’ She turned for the stairs, his chuckle making her grin. Then her grin faded when she considered how she was going to break the news to Christopher. He’d be terrified, which was understandable. Because so am I.

  Saturday, March 15, 7.00 P.M.

  Robinette scowled at his reflection in the mirror on his bedroom wall. Stevie Mazzetti is still breathing. Henderson had failed. Not just once, but twice. Robinette couldn’t remember that having happened before which made him wonder if Henderson was drinking again.

  That had happened before, the soldier ending up in very serious trouble. Court-martial-sized trouble. Trouble Robinette had made disappear. Like magic. Or like hiding a body in the desert in the middle of the night, putting Henderson forever in his debt.

  Up until today, the debt had been repaid with interest. But today . . . Henderson’s failure had made the situation far worse than it had been before. Before there’d only been the chance that Mazzetti’s incessant digging would turn up a connection to Robinette. But now more people were dead. Two bodies had been removed from that restaurant this afternoon.

  Robinette didn’t know their names. He didn’t care. But the cops would be looking for the shooter. The mayor would lean on the police commissioner until BPD turned up a reasonable suspect. It wasn’t good for tourism to have innocent people shot while consuming lunch, especially in pricey restaurants on the historic registry.

  The Baltimore police would leave ‘no stone unturned’. So the commissioner had proclaimed to two dozen reporters at his press conference that afternoon. Pompous peacock.

  Luckily a few of the commissioner’s army of cops had lifestyles more extravagant than their pitiful city salaries could support. Robinette’s salary supplements ensured he got information in a timely way. And that any and all trouble was swiftly contained.

  If I’d had the money eight years ago that I have now, I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. He would have had Mazzetti neutralized quietly. But he’d been poor and desperate.

  He’d never be either of those things again.

  Unfortunately, Henderson’s failures had stirred a hornets’ nest. Mazzetti should have been hit after she’d left the restaurant, should have been lured to some isolated place where the bullet could be retrieved from her body.

  There would have been no need for the drive-by in the woman’s front yard. There would be no bullet slugs on their way to the forensic lab right this minute. Two bullets in the restaurant. God only knew how many were left in the grass in Mazzetti’s front yard, lodged in the frame of her house. At least two had hit the guy who’d protected her. Whoever he was.

  So far, no one was saying. None of his sources knew the man’s name. He wasn’t a cop, of that much they were sure. All they knew was that he’d worn body armor. Who goes around town wearing goddamn body armor?

  All those bullets were now – thanks to Henderson – evidence in a series of high-profile shootings. It would cost Robinette a tidy sum to make it disappear. If he could manage it at all.

  It was time to make a staff change. He quickly made the necessary calls – first, to the gatehouse to bar Henderson’s future entry. Second, to Fletcher and Brenda Lee, informing them to have nothing to do with their former colleague. The final call was to Westmoreland, ordering him to destroy anything that would tie Henderson to them. Including Henderson.

  ‘Todd, darling, you’ll be late for your own awards dinner.’ Robinette’s wife stood in the bedroom doorway, begowned and bejeweled. ‘What’s taking you so long?’

  Dropping his phone into his pocket, he lifted his hands helplessly. ‘I can’t tie my tie.’

  Lisa smiled, gliding across carpet that had cost more than his old man had made in his best year on that godforsaken farm they’d called home. More like hell on earth. He’d come a long way, baby. Big house. Beautiful, clueless, society wife. Successful business.

  Respect. Todd Robinette had earned the respect of this city.

  ‘Let me help you with that,’ she said, capably managing the tie. She straightened it with a teasing tug. ‘Do you have the speech I prepared?’

  ‘I have the speech.’ He patted the pocket of his tux. It wasn’t the one that Lisa had prepared, but was instead the short, sweet, and to-the-point speech that his PR manager had written for him. Able to spin a way out of any disaster, Brenda Lee was worth her weight in gold. It had been her idea to begin donating vaccines to poor countries from the beginning, then setting up a series of rehab clinics in the city to help teen addicts get clean as a tribute to his lost son. Slowly but surely they’d transformed him from a man who’d been investigated for the murder of his second wife to a much-beloved philanthropist, honored by civic leaders.

  Brenda Lee was a fucking genius. Lisa was smart, but she had a long way to go to best Brenda Lee. She’d be unhappy he hadn’t used her speech, but he’d smooth that over later.

  ‘Then we should go.’ Lisa gave him a seductive smile. ‘So we can come home again.’

  He took her arm, cognizant of the picture they made together. They were called a ‘handsome couple’. The men he met tonight would envy him. The women would want him.

  Tonight would be a good night. Except the thought of Stevie Mazzetti alive, free to poke her nose where it didn’t belong was enough to leave a sour taste on his tongue.

  Lisa pulled back a little, frowning. ‘What’s wrong, Todd?’

  He realized he’d let his anger show. ‘Just a business snag. Nothing that can’t be fixed.’

  Henderson is out, Westmoreland in. And if Wes can’t manage it, I’ll do it myself. Robinette found the notion extremely appealing. Probably because it was what he’d wanted all along.

  He curved her hand over his arm. ‘Let’s go. I’ll knock ’em dead.’

  Saturday, March 15, 8.45 P.M.

  They’d left Stevie’s house in two vehicles. She and Cordelia were with JD. Paige had picked up Clay, Alec, and Emma in h
er old pickup truck as Clay’s truck – now riddled with bullet holes – had been towed away.

  They’d parted ways, Clay and Paige taking Emma to her hotel and Stevie and JD supposedly headed toward the safe house Hyatt had arranged, she and Cordelia in the backseat. Her daughter was buckled in, but Stevie wasn’t. Gun in hand, she sat as close to Cordelia as she could without sitting on top of her.

  Cordelia clutched her favorite stuffed bunny, a gift Paul had bought her before he’d been killed. Her daughter couldn’t sleep without it. Stevie hadn’t thought to bring it with them, but Clay had made sure her daughter had packed whatever she needed to sleep.

  After he left her sitting at her kitchen table, he’d been on the phone non-stop, planning. The only thing she’d had to do was to tell her family not to worry. And not to try to find them.

  Wherever it was that they were going. Clay hadn’t told her, which was infuriating. But logical. He hadn’t said it out loud, so no one would know except him.

  What the fucking hell am I doing? How had he talked her into this? Into trusting him? He’d given her those sad dark eyes of his, flexed his pecs to distract her, pushed the mommy guilt button . . . Whoa. Stop right there.

  He hadn’t done any of those things. His eyes had been sad, because he’d been sad. The flexing of the pecs was something Stevie had noticed because he’d been sitting at her table without a shirt the whole time and what woman with a pulse wouldn’t notice?

  And he’d never pushed the mommy guilt button. Not once.

  He’d told her the truth. As much as it hurt, he’d told her the honest truth. And used logic.

  Normally she liked logic. Respected it. But not when it was being used to bend her will. And not when she was in the wrong. As she had been.

  She pressed a kiss to Cordelia’s head. Her daughter had been in pain and Stevie hadn’t understood. Hadn’t seen what her own child needed. ‘I love you, baby,’ she whispered.

  ‘I love you, too, Mommy. Don’t be afraid. It’ll all be fine.’

  ‘I know, honey. It will be.’