Watch Your Back

by Rose, Karen

  But that was ridiculous. There was no way he could have traced her call, either on the phone or through Skype. Clay’s lines of communication were secure.

  Plus, she’d believed every word he’d said. Because he’s dying? No, that wasn’t it. It was because she recognized herself in his eyes, his tone.

  Besides, whoever was coming would have started out long before she’d called Kersey. Divers had to come from boats and that took a little time.

  Stevie looked around for her cane, found it leaning against the stove in the galley. She wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t make herself a target again. She’d stay out of sight until she knew what was what. And the stairs would take time to navigate. Better to be waiting at the top if all hell broke loose than to be stuck at the bottom.

  The cop in her – and the woman as well – had no intention of letting Clay Maynard take any more bullets for her. Moving as fast as she could, she followed him up.

  Baltimore, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 10.55 A.M.

  It had been an hour and five minutes and Westmoreland hadn’t called. Robinette was not happy. He paced the length of his office, running through the list of his staff in his mind. Determining who was suspect and who could be trusted. Most of them he didn’t trust simply because he didn’t know them well enough. But those staff didn’t have access to any confidential – and/or damaging – information.

  Of his inner circle, those he’d served with in the desert? He still trusted Brenda Lee. He no longer trusted Henderson or Fletcher. Robinette was on the fence concerning Westmoreland at the moment. He’d specified one hour for updates. It shouldn’t have been that difficult for Wes to send him a text or an email.

  Unless he was in trouble. Or he had his hands full with Mazzetti. Or if he hadn’t gone to the bodyguard’s house at all.

  Wes hadn’t approved of Robinette’s handling of Henderson or Fletch.

  Maybe Westmoreland was taking matters into his own hands. His team had been riding him lately about the fancy tuxedos and formal events. That if he wasn’t careful, the bow ties would cut off circulation to his brain. That he’d go soft.

  Robinette had chalked it up to good-natured ribbing at the time.

  What if they’d been serious? What if they’d been talking behind his back?

  What if they thought they could do better? What if they tried to take over? Between them, they knew everything about his business. All the formulas – legal and otherwise, the customers, the pricing . . . everything. His inner circle was as capable of burying him as Stevie Mazzetti.

  Where was Westmoreland right now? Robinette sat at his desk and pulled up the website he used to track the movements of the vehicles in his corporate fleet. Westmoreland was driving one of those vehicles – a black Toyota Sequoia. Robinette selected it and waited for the satellite to connect with the tracker. Vehicle not found.

  Robinette blinked hard. It was like a little rubber band had just snapped in his mind.

  Before you get all mad, make sure the damn site is working correctly. A search for all of the other vehicles in the fleet returned results. Most were parked here, on the property. A few were out making pick-ups and deliveries, preparing for the start of a new workweek.

  He put in a special password and found Lisa’s car. She had Sunday brunch with her family every week. And . . . Yes. Her Jag was parked in front of her parents’ ugly mausoleum-like mansion, exactly where it was supposed to be.

  Once more he looked for the Sequoia. Vehicle not found.

  Westmoreland had disabled the Sequoia’s tracking device. That didn’t bode well.

  I have not gone soft. And if his team needed to be reminded of that fact, Robinette would happily oblige. He opened his wall safe and removed the shoebox-sized gun safe, then pressed his thumb to the print reader to spring the latch. Removed the guns that had only been fired at his private target range. They were untraceable.

  Not that he planned to use them. Even with a silencer, there were far less noisy ways to deal with human obstacles. But it never hurt to be prepared.

  He also slipped his little address book into his pocket. In the book were important names and addresses. Like the family and friends of Stevie Mazzetti, including Mr Maynard. And the family and friends of his inner circle. Just in case a little leverage was required.

  Finally, he withdrew a set of car keys. He kept one vehicle that had no tracking devices and had been manufactured before the advent of automobile GPS. He loved gadgets and technology as much as the next guy, but sometimes old school was the way to go.

  Chapter Twelve

  Wight’s Landing, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 10.55 A.M.

  Clay took the stairs to the deck in two leaps, cursing himself. He’d promised she’d be safe, but he’d nearly ignored the very alarm that would keep her that way. You’re an idiot, Maynard.

  Except . . . he’d finally had her in his arms. And it had been even better than he’d hoped. It was like he’d flipped a switch, waking her up. Turning her on. She’d definitely been turned on. She’d definitely wanted it. Wanted me. Thank you, God.

  He shook his head hard to clear it. Pay attention or she won’t be alive to want you. He hit the deck running, only to skid to a stop. His father stood on the dock, looking at his wristwatch.

  Tanner looked up, mildly disapproving. ‘Took you long enough.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Although, I guess I should be congratulating you on your response time. You might want to comb your hair. Or jump in the water. It should be cold enough to deflate . . . things.’

  What the fuck? Yeah, he was still harder than a rock, but . . . What the fuck?

  ‘Dad, get back to the house. We have an incoming diver.’

  ‘I know. You can put your gun away. It’s just Lou.’

  For a moment Clay could only stare. Then he got it. ‘You mean this is a damn drill?’

  ‘Yes. Which, if you’ll stow your hormones, you’ll remember you specifically requested. If it had been real, you would have been cutting it very close, son.’

  Clay holstered his gun and shoved his temper down. He had suggested a drill, to make sure the system functioned properly. He hadn’t expected his ex-fiancée to be the tester.

  He thought of Stevie, below deck. Knew there was no way she was staying down there. It wasn’t in her nature. He was shocked she hadn’t appeared already. Probably only because it’s taking her a minute to climb the damn stairs.

  It appeared he’d be introducing her to his ex sooner than he’d planned. He stepped up to the dock and looked down into the water, hoping to prep Lou before Stevie appeared. He and Lou were no longer a couple, but they were still friends and Lou was overprotective in the extreme. Unfortunately, she also knew what had happened in December.

  Because Alec had been waiting for him outside the hospital when Stevie threw him out. The kid had taken one look at Clay’s face, instantly knowing what had gone down even though Clay hadn’t said a word about it. Alec and Alyssa were thick as thieves, so his admin assistant knew shortly thereafter. And whatever Alyssa knew, her sister knew in no time whatsoever. To say that Stevie wasn’t Lou’s favorite person was putting it mildly.

  The water bubbled and two hooded divers bobbed to the surface. Both wore neoprene dry suits designed for cold-water dives, full masks covering their faces.

  ‘Who’s her dive buddy?’ Clay asked grimly. Lou knew that he was hiding Stevie and Cordelia because only hours before he’d asked for her assistance with Cordelia’s transportation to the farm. But he’d expected Lou to clear any guests with him.

  ‘Nell Pearson, the new deputy,’ his father said. ‘Nell’s okay. I checked her out myself.’

  ‘Fine,’ Clay bit out. ‘But next time, don’t surprise me. I could have shot them.’

  ‘That’s why I’m standing here, son.’ His father’s tone dared further rebuke, crossi
ng the line from fatherly into patronizing, and Clay felt ten years old again.

  Rolling his eyes, Clay waited until the two divers had climbed most of the way up the ladder before extending his hand to pull them up to the dock.

  Lou pulled the mask from her face. ‘Holy shit, that water’s cold. Did your alarm go off?’

  ‘It did,’ his father said. ‘At the first camera. All the others triggered after that.’

  She tugged her hood down. ‘An advanced diver might swim a bit faster than we did, but you should have a solid three minutes to prepare before an uninvited guest surfaces.’ Lou looked up at Clay. ‘Why don’t you look happy, hon? Your system works like a charm.’

  ‘You should have told me you were coming,’ Clay said quietly.

  Lou smiled innocently, lightly tapping his cheek with her flat palm. ‘Then it wouldn’t have been a real test.’ She looked over his shoulder. ‘Plus, I wanted to meet Detective Mazzetti.’

  Clay turned around to see Stevie standing on the deck, leaning heavily on her cane. Looking none too pleased. ‘What’s going on?’ Stevie asked.

  He helped her to the dock, holding her elbow until she had her footing. ‘It was a drill.’

  ‘A drill,’ she repeated flatly.

  ‘I didn’t know. I swear I wouldn’t have frightened you that way.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Stevie eyed Lou, who was kicking off her flippers. ‘And this is?’

  Lou stepped forward, her expression coolly distant. ‘I’m Sheriff Moore. This is Deputy Pearson.’ Nell Pearson, a blonde who looked to be in her mid-forties, stood off to the side, saying nothing. There was no move to shake hands on the part of any of the women.

  Clay wanted to hit something but settled for rolling his eyes again instead. ‘Lou, you and your deputy need to get into warm clothes. Change in the boathouse. Just don’t touch anything.’

  Lou’s eyes narrowed. ‘Fine. We have dry clothes in our pack.’

  His father handed Lou a thermos. ‘I made you some coffee to take off the edge.’

  Lou leaned up to kiss his cheek. ‘Thanks, Tanner. Can you give Guthrie a call? Tell him we made it and to bring the boat in to pick us up.’

  ‘Who’s Guthrie?’ Stevie asked. She was studying Lou, her expression deceptively mild.

  ‘Her other deputy,’ Clay said.

  Stevie maintained her mild facade, her voice remaining level. Cordial, even. But the flash of anger in her eyes gave her away. ‘Hell of a lot of people know about our secret hideout, Clay.’

  Lou stopped in her tracks. When she turned, her expression mirrored Stevie’s. When she spoke, her tone was equally mild. Had this situation been happening to someone else, Clay might have laughed. But it was happening to him and all he wanted was to make it stop.

  ‘Detective Mazzetti, I’ve been asked to provide assistance and backup. My deputies will be part of that assistance in any way I deem fit. But for the record, Deputy Guthrie doesn’t know you and your daughter exist, let alone are being hidden here. I certainly didn’t expect you to be standing out in the open, especially after yesterday’s events.’

  Stevie straightened her spine and Clay closed his eyes. ‘Lou,’ he murmured, ‘don’t.’

  ‘Don’t what?’ Lou asked acidly. ‘Don’t make sense? Two people died yesterday when a sniper fired on you, Detective. Your daughter was nearly gunned down in your own front yard. A cop died while taking your place in a safe house last night. How do you know you’re not being targeted at this very moment? How do you know you’re not putting all of us at risk?’

  Twin flags of scarlet stained Stevie’s cheeks, her body so rigid it was a miracle she didn’t shatter into pieces. ‘I suppose I don’t. I apologize, Sheriff Moore.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m the one you should apologize to. But thank you anyway. You have a few more minutes before Deputy Guthrie arrives, if you’d like to take cover. Seems like locking the barn door after the horse is stolen, but if it makes you feel better, you just go right ahead.’

  Clay exhaled wearily. Lou hadn’t just infuriated Stevie, she’d embarrassed her, too. And that last crack was just plain snide. ‘Lou, back off. I assured Detective Mazzetti that she and her daughter were safe here. Nobody’s getting close enough to target anybody. The test of the underwater surveillance was a success, so we’re done. Let’s all retreat to our respective corners.’

  He expected Stevie to make her exit, but she didn’t move. She also didn’t say a word, and that worried him. ‘You okay?’ he murmured.

  She nodded silently and it was then he noticed that she was standing upright, her cane tucked behind her, and he understood. Any direction she chose to retreat presented obstacles, and she didn’t want Lou and her deputy to see her stumble. But Lou didn’t realize it and wouldn’t, if he had anything to say about it.

  ‘Lou, we can talk when you’re not shivering. Go change into dry clothes.’

  Lou gave him a pitying look, like he was the stupidest man alive. But she changed her tone, sounding professional. Finally. ‘I’ll bring the boat tomorrow morning at five A.M. You have the child ready and I’ll assume responsibility for transport.’

  Clay winced. He’d intended to share his plans with Stevie when they were on his dad’s boat, but then she touched him and . . . Who could blame him for forgetting? He’d nearly forgotten his own name. He glanced at Stevie, who stared up at him, stunned. And even angrier than before.

  Obviously she could, and did, blame him for forgetting.

  ‘The child?’ she hissed through clenched teeth. ‘Which child? My child? What the hell?’

  Lou actually looked repentant. ‘I didn’t know she didn’t know. I’ll go change now.’

  ‘Yeah, you go do that,’ Clay muttered. ‘Hell.’

  ‘I’m waiting, Clay,’ Stevie said quietly when the boathouse door closed behind Lou.

  He inclined his head toward her, not surprised when she leaned back, away from him. ‘Let’s talk about this privately. I’ll explain.’

  A throat was cleared delicately. Deputy Pearson had been standing off to the side, looking very uncomfortable. ‘I don’t mean to intrude,’ she said. ‘Detective Mazzetti, I won’t reveal your presence here to anyone. I have a child of my own and I can only imagine what you’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours. You can depend on my discretion.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Stevie said. ‘I appreciate it.’

  Pearson looked at Clay. ‘My vote was to tell you about the drill, but your father and the sheriff overruled me. Lou didn’t know you hadn’t had time to brief the detective on your plans.’ She smiled at him ruefully. ‘It’s good to finally meet you, although I wish the circumstances had been different. Your dad has told me so much about you, I feel like I know you already. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I’m going to get out of this suit because I can’t feel my toes anymore.’

  The moment the boathouse door closed behind Pearson, Stevie pivoted on the heel of her good leg and started walking down the dock toward the house.

  ‘If you want to yell at me,’ Clay said, ‘it’s better to do it on the boat. Cordelia won’t hear.’

  She slowly turned, fire snapping from her eyes. ‘Don’t you dare use my daughter to manipulate me into going where you want me to go.’

  He held up his hands in surrender. ‘Fine. You’re right. Will you please go to the boat so we can figure this out? Besides, Deputy Guthrie will be here in about a minute. Unless you want me to carry you, you can’t make it to the house that fast.’

  She glared at him, outraged. ‘That’s just cruel.’

  ‘Cruel, but accurate. You need to choose.’

  Her glare sharpened as she passed him on the way to the boat. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she snapped, smacking his hand away when he tried to help her down to the deck. ‘I’d rather fall.’

 
She didn’t fall, although she came close when the tip of her cane hit a puddle on the deck. She managed to keep her balance and went down to the cabin without looking back.

  ‘She’s got a temper,’ his father commented casually.

  Clay turned, aiming the same glare at his dad that Stevie had given him. ‘What the hell were you thinking, having Lou come here?’

  ‘I didn’t think Lou would be so openly hostile. I’m sorry, Clay.’

  ‘Yeah, well it might not matter that you’re sorry. Your timing really sucks, Dad.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that, too. But if you could have seen the look on your face . . .’ He took a look at Clay’s face and backed up a step. ‘Right. I’ll just go and check on the child.’

  ‘Yeah, you do that. Run like the coward you are,’ Clay muttered, his father already halfway down the dock. Clay waited, watching the boathouse, arms crossed tight over his chest.

  Lou emerged, dressed in soft sweats and looking very subdued. ‘I’m sorry. Really.’

  ‘Why did you do it, Lou?’ he asked. ‘Why poke at her that way? She’s had a hell of a twenty-four and you rubbed it in. There was no need.’

  ‘I know,’ Lou sighed miserably. ‘I’m a terrible person.’

  ‘At the moment I’d be forced to agree.’

  She frowned, his easy agreement clearly surprising her. ‘She has a lot of nerve to come waltzing in here like she owns the place. She’s using you.’

  He thought of those moments in the boat’s cabin. Being used by Stevie Mazzetti had been one of the best experiences of his life. She could use him until he was nothing more than a dried up stub. ‘I invited her here.’

  ‘She had other places she could go. Other people to depend on. Why you?’

  ‘Because I manipulated her into it,’ he said honestly. ‘It’s my business, Lou. Not yours.’

  ‘But . . .’ She sighed again, frustrated. ‘She broke your heart.’