The Bodyguard's Assignment

by Amanda Stevens

  “We’re already on it.”

  “Thanks, Mitchell. I’ll be in touch.”

  “You do that, son. And Brady?” The older man paused. “You be careful, you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  Brady replaced the phone on the floor and closed his eyes, but he couldn’t unwind enough to sleep. He tried to tell himself they were safe here. Hardly anyone knew where he and Grace were, only Mitchell, Penny, the other Confidential agents. John Kruger.

  Kruger was the unknown factor here. Brady would trust anyone at the Smoking Barrel with his life—more importantly, with Grace’s life—but the DPS agent was another matter. He didn’t know Kruger, and what’s more, he hadn’t exactly been drawn to the man. There was something about Kruger’s eyes, the way he talked that had hit a nerve with Brady. The man was just a little too edgy, not unlike the way Brady had been as a narc.

  That thought should have reassured him, but it didn’t. He’d seen too many cops succumb to the temptation of an easy buck. They’d been lured to the other side because sometimes the line between good and evil was all too thin. Drug trafficking was the worst because the amount of cash floating around could be staggering.

  Then there was the business of Grace’s phone that still bothered Brady. Had she called someone earlier? Could he trust her not to give away their whereabouts?

  Could he trust her, period?

  That was the rub, Brady thought. He’d seen for himself that she was a different woman from the one he’d known five years ago. She was softer, gentler, less driven, but she was, nonetheless, keeping something from him.

  What Brady had to do was find a way to make her confide in him. He already knew her weakness, but unfortunately, he’d discovered that his own Achilles’ heel was every bit as vulnerable as hers.

  Don’t even think it, Brady warned himself. But he feared the inevitable had been set in motion with that one kiss. Darkness was coming. The long night stretched ahead of them. It was cold on the mountain. Lonely. He and Grace had never been able to keep their hands off each other for very long.

  Brady closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. But the five years he and Grace had been apart suddenly seemed like an eternity.

  Chapter Nine

  When Grace awakened, she could tell from the shadows in the bedroom that it was late in the day. Discovering that the handcuffs had been removed, she swung her legs off the bed, sitting for a moment as she contemplated her situation.

  She was worried sick about her mother. The message on her voice mail earlier had only intensified her fear. Saturday, 6 p.m., Dealey Plaza. That the message was from Kane, she had no doubt, but Grace didn’t have a clue how she would get away from Brady.

  Unless, of course, she simply told him the truth. She could do that, and he would help her without hesitation. She was certain of that. But he might also insist on calling in reinforcements, and that risked Kane finding out that she’d talked. Grace trusted Brady with her life—even with her mother’s life—but she didn’t trust the organization he worked for. Somehow Kane had been able to follow them out of Dallas, and Grace wasn’t altogether convinced her briefcase had been bugged. She wasn’t so certain that their whereabouts had been compromised on her end.

  Still, if she couldn’t find a way back to Dallas on her own, she might eventually have to confide in Brady and pray for the best. She would not, under any circumstances, risk missing the exchange on Saturday with Kane.

  Feeling slightly disoriented from her long nap, Grace got up and walked to the bedroom door to peer out. The cabin was so silent, she wondered if Brady had gone out. But then a tantalizing aroma of spices drifted down the corridor, and she realized he was in the kitchen cooking.

  Her stomach rumbled loudly as she hurriedly brushed her teeth and ran a quick comb through her hair. Brady glanced up from the stove as she walked into the room, his gaze drifting over her for a moment before he went back to his cooking.

  Instantly, Grace remembered the look in his eyes when she’d stopped the kiss. He’d wanted to make love to her, maybe even as much as she’d wanted him to. But not as adversaries. That wasn’t the kind of memory she wanted to take with her when she and her mother disappeared.

  “Smells great,” she murmured as she walked into the tiny kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “No, it’s ready. I hope you like chili.”

  He’d showered and changed clothes after Grace had fallen asleep, but he hadn’t bothered to shave. He still looked slightly menacing in spite of his domestic chores. Grace silently watched him as he dished up the chili into ceramic bowls, got out two bottles of Mexican beer from the refrigerator, then carried everything over to the table on a tray.

  “This is good,” Grace said, digging into the food. “I’m famished.”

  “Glad to see you’ve got your appetite back. You’re going to need your strength.”

  “Meaning?”

  He took a long swig of his beer, then placed the bottle back on the table. “Meaning you’ve got a long road ahead of you, Grace. Have you thought about that? After you testify, you’re not going to be able to go back to your old life. You realize that, don’t you? Even if Kane is put away, there’s still Rialto and Calderone to worry about. They’re not going to let you walk away from this. It’s a matter of pride as much as anything else.”

  Grace frowned, her appetite suddenly deserting her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to her old life, but she wasn’t going to embrace the one the government had in mind for her, either. Not unless and until she could make sure her mother was safe, and the only way Grace could do that was for her and Angeline to leave the country. Go somewhere far away, where she didn’t have to worry about Kane, Rialto, and Calderone. Where she would never see Brady again.

  She glanced out the window where the sun was setting over the mountains. The shadows grew long and distorted in the fading light, making the landscape seem even more bleak and threatening. A loneliness welled inside Grace, deepening her despair until it was like a crushing weight on her shoulders.

  “Is Kane threatening your mother?” Brady asked her suddenly.

  Grace’s gaze flew to his. “Why would you think that?”

  “For the obvious reasons.” His gray eyes were hooded, but she could see the faint stirring of emotion. Anger? Passion? What did Brady really feel for her? “You’re not the kind of person to run from trouble,” he said softly. “At least I never thought so.”

  “I didn’t run,” Grace pointed out. “You’re the one who forced me to leave Dallas.”

  A shadow of annoyance passed over his features. He said impatiently, “I’m talking about your refusal to turn over that tape. Not agreeing to testify. There must be a damn good reason why you won’t do that.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to give up my old life. Have you ever considered that?”

  “It’s more than that.” He shoved aside his half-finished chili. “You’re afraid.”

  When she didn’t answer, he reached across the table and took her hand. The action startled Grace, and she flinched. Brady dropped her hand at once. “If he’s threatening you or your mother, it’s not going to go away, Grace. You know that. You’ve covered too many kidnapping cases not to know what can happen if you try to handle something like this on your own.”

  Grace closed her eyes briefly, the desire to confide in him almost overwhelming. He was right. Kidnappers always told the families of their victims to stay away from the police. Kane’s threat was nothing new, except for one thing: he’d somehow found out she’d been in the warehouse that night. He knew about the tape. He knew she’d gone to the police. He seemed to know every move she made, and Grace was very much afraid that if she talked, even to Brady, Kane would somehow find out, and her mother would be the one to pay.

  If she didn’t talk, if she kept everything to herself and somehow found a way to that meeting with Kane on Saturday, Grace knew that she would be able to get her mother to safety. Kane would
come after them, but by that time, they would be out of Dallas. She and Angeline would fly to New York where they would meet her father. With his connections and money, he could help them get out of the country, and then Kane wouldn’t be able to touch them.

  On the other hand, if she agreed to testify after the exchange was made, it was possible Brady’s organization could keep her and her mother safe, but for how long? Once they had Kane, would they still be interested in their witness’s welfare, or would Grace end up spending the rest of her life looking over her shoulder?

  It was a call she couldn’t make yet. She had two days before the meeting on Saturday. Two days in which she could consider every possibility carefully, weigh all her odds, and hopefully make the right decision in the end.

  For now, she would say nothing.

  DARKNESS FELL quickly. It was an amazing thing to watch. One moment they were standing on the porch watching a spectacular sunset, and the next thing Grace knew, a dark curtain descended over the landscape. She could barely make out the silhouette of jagged rock against a vast, black velvet sky. Everything had melded into sameness.

  But then the stars began to twinkle out, more and more, until the heavens were littered with diamond-bright lights. In her years in the city, Grace had forgotten what a country sky looked like. It was dazzling, breathtaking in its scope, and she scanned the constellations, picking out the Big Dipper and Cassiopeia. A shooting star streaked across the sky, followed by a second, and Grace thought that she had never seen anything so beautiful.

  Beside her, Brady said, “You don’t get fireworks like that in the city.”

  “The sky is incredible,” Grace breathed. She could understand why Brady had come out to this rugged country, the fascination that held him here. There was a timeless quality to the land, like an ancient masterpiece that had been painted by wind, rain, and time. You could lose yourself out here, Grace thought. Forget why you didn’t like to look at yourself in the mirror. “Whose cabin is this, Brady? Yours?”

  “No, it belongs to Mitchell.”

  “Then we must be close to the ranch where you live.”

  “Close is a relative term out here, Grace. Believe me when I tell you there’s no one around for miles.”

  Grace shivered as they both fell silent.

  They stood watching the stars for a long time, but finally the cold drove them back inside. Brady stirred the fire while Grace wandered aimlessly around the cabin. There was no television or radio, and Brady didn’t seem anxious for conversation. Grace was at loose ends. She didn’t want to talk about her turning over the tape or giving testimony, or why she refused to do either one. But all their conversations seem to lead back to that one topic so after a bit, she excused herself to turn in, even though she wasn’t the least bit sleepy.

  As she lay in bed, eyes wide open, the night gradually came alive. She heard an owl hooting somewhere nearby and the wind whistling through the canyon. She heard Brady go into the bathroom and the shower start up, and she pictured him there under the steaming water, his body rugged and solid. Waiting for her.

  There had been a time when Grace wouldn’t have hesitated even a moment to join him in the shower. To let nature take its course. There had been a time when she and Brady couldn’t get enough of each other, but a lot had happened in five years. Grace wasn’t the same person, and she suspected Brady wasn’t, either. The fire they’d shared earlier might only have been a memory, some lingering ember that smoldered but couldn’t be fully rekindled.

  Did she really believe that? Grace asked herself. Or was her real fear that nothing had changed between them. That the intensity might only have deepened in their five years apart. If that was the case, how in the world would she be able to walk away from him?

  Because her mother’s safety depended on it, that’s how. Grace closed her eyes, trying to draw every ounce of her strength, but tonight, the danger seemed so far away. And Brady was so close…so very close…

  The bathroom door opened and shut, and she heard his soft footfalls in the hallway. Had he paused in front of her door? She held her breath, but after a moment, she heard the clatter of dishes in the kitchen. He was fixing himself a cup of the strong coffee he loved, bracing himself for the long night ahead.

  Grace stared at the ceiling and sighed.

  A SOUND awakened her. She thought it was the wind at first, moaning through the canyon, but then she recognized Brady’s voice and Grace shot up in bed. He was talking to someone in the other room. His tone was low and urgent, almost pleading. She’d never heard Brady sound that way before.

  Getting out of bed, Grace padded on bare feet to open the bedroom door a crack. Brady’s voice grew stronger, insistent. “Don’t die on me, you hear? I won’t let you die!”

  Grace’s heart slammed against her ribcage. She realized almost at once he was having a nightmare, and she felt as if she were eavesdropping on something very private and intimate. She didn’t know what to do. Go back to bed and pretend she hadn’t heard him? Let him sleep on in that agony?

  She couldn’t do that. He was in terrible pain, and Grace couldn’t stand to hear it. She opened the door and headed down the corridor. He lay on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The fire had died down in the night, and Grace stood shivering in a T-shirt.

  “Come on, breathe!” he said urgently.

  Was he dreaming about his father? Grace wondered. Was that the memory that tortured him?

  She crossed over to the couch and knelt beside him. His head thrashed on the pillow. He was covered with a quilt, but he’d pushed it away, exposing his bare chest and shoulders. Tentatively, she placed her hand on his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles, remembering the strength of him.

  Her touch seemed to calm him. He fell silent, and his breathing evened. Grace stood and moved to the fireplace, stirring the embers, then throwing on another log. Once she had the fire going, she turned back to Brady. He was awake and watching her.

  Her heart jerked painfully, and a thrill of awareness shot through her. She wondered suddenly if he had anything on underneath the quilt.

  As if reading her mind, he threw off the cover and swung his legs over the side of the sofa. He wore jeans, but nothing else, and firelight flickered over the hollow of his chest, the thick, corded muscles in his arms. He ran a hand through his hair as he gazed at her skeptically. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  He seemed unaware of his nightmare. Grace shrugged. “It was getting cold in the cabin. The fire almost went out.”

  “Sorry.” He got up to stoke the already raging blaze. “I must have dozed off for a while.”

  “You’re entitled. It was a long night last night.”

  “I’m not being paid to sleep,” he muttered, replacing the iron poker on a hook at the side of fireplace. He glanced at his watch. “It’s still a few hours till daylight. Why don’t you try to go back to sleep?”

  “I’m not tired,” she said without thinking. He was probably trying to get rid of her, but like an obstinate child, she wasn’t cooperating. She sat down on the hearth, letting the fire heat her back through the T-shirt. “I had a long nap when we got here, remember? I don’t need anymore sleep.”

  “Good for you.” He sat down on the floor and leaned his back against the sofa. Stretching out his long legs, he crossed his feet and stared into the fire.

  “Can I ask you something, Brady?”

  He lifted his gaze to hers. Firelight flickered deep inside his gray eyes.

  “It’s…personal,” she said.

  He shrugged. “You can always ask.”

  Meaning he might not answer. Grace hesitated. “You were the one who found your father’s body, weren’t you?”

  The only emotion he showed was a slight tightening of his mouth. “That’s a little morbid for this time of night. Besides, what difference does it make?”

  “I’ve been doing some thinking,” she said softly. “You said your father was suspended before he…died. When you were faced with a susp
ension, you left the force. You disappeared. I’m wondering if there’s a connection.”

  “You’re into pop psychology now, Grace?”

  She gave him a wry smile. “I’ve had some practice. It might surprise you to learn that I see a therapist from time to time. You’re not the only one with unresolved issues, Brady.”

  He lifted a brow at that. “Unresolved issues? That’s way too deep for three o’clock in the morning.” He folded his arms across his chest as he returned his gaze to the fire. “The only unresolved issue I have at the moment is keeping you safe until you can testify.”

  “Liar.”

  He scowled at her tone. “Give it a rest, Grace.”

  She watched him watch the fire. He studiously avoided her gaze, and Grace thought that she had hit upon something he’d worked very hard to conceal. His father’s death had affected him deeply. Scarred him, because it had opened a door that could never completely be sealed again.

  “Do you know who my father is?” She slid off the hearth, and drew up her legs, resting her chin on her knees.

  “You told me once he’s some hotshot reporter for one of the networks.”

  “Harry Drummond. Ever hear of him?”

  He met her gaze in surprise. “Harry Drummond is your father? The Harry Drummond?”

  Grace nodded. Her father had first made a name for himself as a young foreign correspondent covering the Vietnam War. He’d been sent to Southeast Asia when Grace was just a baby, and even though he’d come back to the States for a while after the war, he hadn’t come back home. He’d gotten himself a new apartment, moved in a girlfriend, but rather than divorcing Grace’s mother, he simply pretended his wife and daughter didn’t exist.

  “He left my mother and me when I was just a kid,” she said with a frown. “He never sent me birthday cards or Christmas presents, just a check every month without even so much as a note. It was like I didn’t exist to him, except as some financial responsibility he couldn’t quite bring himself to shirk. My mother used to watch him on the news every night. Even after everything he did to her, she would still get this light in her eyes when he came on the screen. She would tell me all about the exotic countries he visited, the exciting stories he reported. She made him sound like some kind of hero. I grew up wanting to be exactly like him.”