He tilted his head in a yeah-right move, then shrugged. “Then I would have left and some lucky SOB would’ve had free parking.”
Climbing out of her car, he held the door open a moment to lean in. “Wait until I’m in my car. I’ll blink the lights and follow you to wherever you want to eat.”
“What if I just want to go home?”
“We can do that. You have anything to eat there?”
She twisted her lips sideways, her eyes traveling over his body, warming him more than his coat. “Not enough to feed both of us.”
“Dinner out it is.”
Closing the door before she could argue further, he headed to his own vehicle, thankful it started up despite sitting out in the below freezing temps all afternoon. The heater quickly warmed the inside and the wiper blades clearing the windshield. He blinked his lights at her then followed her out into the late evening traffic. She bypassed the interstate and headed up route 22 past the area where he knew her home was situated.
When she finally pulled into the parking lot of a Skyline Chili franchise, he laughed. Most women that were as willowy as Chloe would avoid a night time meal of chili and coneys, but not her. He met her at the door, holding it for her to proceed him inside.
At the table, Chloe ordered like a pro. “Two cheese coneys, mustard, no onion. Coke.”
Wes followed suit but ordered a five-way spaghetti instead of a coney. He waited until they had their food before commenting.
“Chili, huh?” he asked as she scooped up a large portion of one of her two chili cheese coneys with her fork.
“It’s cold outside. I’m hungry and I crave this stuff. Especially when I’m stressed.” She slid her forkful of food in, closed her eyes and gave a satisfied moan.
Wes wanted to moan right along with her. The woman made eating a sensual event. Quickly, he focused on his own meal.
Once he was done, he sat back and simply enjoyed watching her work her way through the second coney. He’d been surprised she hadn’t ordered coffee, but given how many times the young lawyer, Justin, had retrieved them coffee during the afternoon, she probably already had enough super-caffeine on board. The Coke would just keep her slightly less buzzed.
“What?” she said, finishing her last bite.
“Just remembering how you told me you existed on junk food and caffeine.”
“This,” she said, scooping up the last bit of bun, dog and cheesy chili on her fork, “is not junk food. It’s manna from heaven.”
He’d also learned something else about the woman seated across from him back in Westen. She was way friendlier and cooperative when her stomach was full. Like now.
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your choice of dinner food.”
“Come on. It was delicious, admit it.”
“It was. I promise never to mock your food choices again.”
The waitress returned with their check. He slipped a few bills in to cover it and the tip. Finished eating, he put both elbows on the table and leaned forward. Time to cut the bullshit. “Now, you want to tell me about your stalker?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Chloe stared into Wes’s blue eyes. Intense. Straight forward. They also said, trust me. After last night, she was no longer sure she could handle the problem alone. Maybe it was time to ask for help.
“I told you before the wedding I couldn’t prove that someone was following me. That I’d just gotten some odd hang-ups on calls and a feeling of being watched.”
“But that’s changed.”
“Ever since I got home.” She twirled her glass in slow circles between her hands. Movement, any kind of movement, slowed the building panic. “I started getting text messages. Simple things at first. Welcome back. Nice holiday? Then a little more personal. Thought you’d get a tan on your vacation. Be careful driving home in the snow. Stuff like that. Innocuous to most people, but creepy to me since I have no idea who’s behind it.”
“It’s meant to make you nervous. And the phone calls?”
“I still got only anonymous numbers and hang ups. Well, until today, and you were there for that one.” She paused. “Again, why are you here?”
When nothing came out of him, an idea popped into her head.
“Bobby and Gage got back today. You told them, didn’t you?” Anger surged through her. She grabbed her coat and bag. “The last thing my pregnant sister needs to worry about right now is some maybe stalker. How could you tell her?”
Anger propelling her toward the door, she shrugged her coat on as she went. She was out the door into the winter air, when he caught up with her.
“Chloe,” he said, grasping her by the elbow. “Wait.”
In a fury of sisterly worry, she whirled to face him. “How could you put her and their baby at risk like this?”
He held up his hands in an innocent fashion. “I didn’t.”
She studied his face a moment. “I don’t believe you. You’re hiding something from me.”
Without waiting for him to answer, she headed for her car in the parking lot, almost not noticing something was wrong. She stopped so suddenly, he crashed into her from behind. Catching her with one arm around her waist, he kept her from planting her face in the icy pavement.
“Whoa. I’ve got you,” he said, his warm breath right against her ear. “Why’d you stop so fast?”
“There,” she said, trembling hard, fear sluicing its way down her spine. “Someone’s slashed my tires.”
“That’s enough,” he said, scooping her into her arms and striding for his SUV. Before she could pull herself together enough to protest, he had her securely inside the cab and was headed out of the parking lot.
“Wait, I can’t just leave my car here like that. I have to call the police.”
“We will. Just as soon as we’re on our way out of town.”
Turning to argue with him and demand he take her back to her car, she saw his jaw firmly set as he shifted his gaze from the road in front to the rearview mirror, then the side mirror and back to the front. He was checking to see if anyone was following them. Taking her safety very serious.
She pressed her lips tightly closed and stared out the passenger window at the suburban areas zipping past them.
Maybe Wes was right. What could she really have told the police? That she’d received some mysterious phone calls that could be explained as someone just dialing the wrong number? Well, except for the one this afternoon. That she’d gotten some unwanted texts from numbers she didn’t recognize, that could also be explained as someone just hitting the wrong numbers with fat thumbs? Well, except for the one last night. That she’d had this eerie feeling someone was following her, which could easily be explained as nerves from over work and stress? Well, except for the four slashed tires on her car.
Someone had attacked her car. They’d been angry, at her. They’d wanted to hurt her.
Her heart started racing.
A shiver of fear ran over her body.
Followed by another. Then another. Until she was trembling uncontrollably.
Wes reached to the dashboard, turning the vents her way. He hit the heater button and blasted her with warmth. “Try to take some slow deep breaths. You’re going to have to get a handle on your panic yourself. I don’t have time to hold your hand like some high-priced diva.”
She swiveled her head around to stare at him open mouthed. “Excuse me?”
“Everyone knows lawyers are just self-centered divas. Wanting the center of attention all the time. Looking down on the rest of us. Feeling superior because you went to four extra years of school. Probably what got you into this mess in the first place.”
Chloe blinked. Anger shot through her. “How. Dare. You?” she bit out between clenched teeth. “Who do you think you are making judgements on me and my career like this?”
“I’ve dealt with all kinds of lawyers over the years. Not many of them make me respect your profession.”
“Oh, really? Name
one?” Crossing her arms in front of her, she turned to glare at him.
“Gage’s ex.” He gave her a dead-pan look before returning to watching the road.
Chloe shook her head, “She doesn’t count. She’s a narcissistic psychopath.”
“My point.” He said with a shrug.
“You cannot base your entire opinion of my profession on the crazed antics of one woman. Lawyers and the legal profession help people. We help them solve problems. We’re the mediators when two sides are at conflict. We prosecute the guilty and we defend the innocent.”
“You also help criminals go free. You twist and turn things so the average person comes out on the short end of things.”
“I’ll admit that some of my colleagues don’t always do what’s just.”
“Some?” he scoffed.
“No one is perfect. Every profession has its good members and every profession has its sore spots.” She leaned in a little closer. “We both know there’s a history of bad cops causing problems for the good ones.”
“I didn’t say there wasn’t.” He let go of the steering wheel and laid his big warm hand on her leg. “Is the panic gone?”
“What?” she asked, then saw the corner of his lip lift. “You said those awful things on purpose. Just to get me mad.”
“Anger is much better than hyperventilating in a panic over something you can’t really control. Don’t you think?” He winked at her, squeezed her leg and let go. “Besides, I like the spark in your eyes when you’re pissed.”
She shook her head, opened her mouth, then slammed it shut again. Turning her attention back to the blackness outside the door window she let her ire fester for a few minutes. As it slowly faded down to an irritation level, she muttered, “You’re an ass, deputy.”
“Probably, but you’re no longer letting your fear grip you.”
“If you have nothing nice to say, it’s best to say nothing at all.” Bobby’s words from when she was a belligerent teenager sounded in her head. And right now, she had nothing nice to say to or about Wes Strong.
She leaned her head against the cool glass. Despite how irate she was at him, she had to admit he was right. Her panic was gone. Her breathing easier and her pulse back to a normal rate—well, normal for someone who wanted to sock the person in the driver’s seat really, really hard.
The lights in the housing divisions slowly gave way to long stretches of empty blackness, broken only by the flashes of light from on-coming lights on the south-bound lane of I-71. They were headed north.
Out of her peripheral vision she watched Wes turn on the radio and soft jazz music filled the SUV. The constant hum of the wheels on the pavement, the warmth of the cab worked with the music to slowly lull her into sleep.
Once Wes was sure Chloe had drifted off, he reached into the back seat and grabbed the blanket he always carried in his car during winter, along with the extra bottles of water, snack bars, emergency kit, and flashlights. In a Midwestern winter you never knew when you’d come across someone injured on the ice, or a snowstorm could strand you on the side of the road.
With one hand, he shook out the blanket and loosely draped it over Chloe, tucking it around her shoulder and hip. He resisted the urge to brush the wisps of her short dark hair off her face and run his knuckles over her cheek. Instead, he leaned to one side, shifted his smart phone into the GPS section of the dash, and typed in local super stores. Once he located one not too far from the interstate near Columbus, he leaned into the driver’s door and concentrated on driving.
He was certain no one had followed them from the restaurant. When he left Westen this morning he’d been planning to spend a day or two in Cincinnati trying to nail down the identity of the person stalking Chloe. It should’ve been simple. Spend some time shadowing her both physically and electronically until he found the perpetrator, then either put the fear of God into them, or make them disappear—legally.
Speaking of electronics. He reached into the giant bag by Chloe’s feet and fished out her cell phone.
He chuckled inwardly. Trust the lawyer to have a bag so organized, there was even a spot for her phone.
Bracing the steering wheel with his knees, he deftly kept the car on the highway while he used both hands to open her phone and remove the battery. She wouldn’t like that he’d messed with her phone. Nope. Not one bit. She was going to pitch a major fit over it. And wouldn’t that be fun to watch?
But like it or not. The only successful way to be sure no one was tracking her whereabouts through her phone’s GPS was to remove the battery.
He should know. In his previous life he’d found more than one bogie through their phone.
Next problem was the youngest sister. During the two weeks after the wedding, while he’d been making his plans to help Chloe, he’d known Bobby was safe with Gage, but if Chloe disappeared, would the stalker go after their sister, Dylan? Problem was, Dr. Dylan Roberts was a resident in one of the local hospitals in Cincinnati. Protecting her required a person he trusted, who also had unique skills to be her silent body guard.
The memory of that conversation flashed in his head.
“What’s up, Chief?” the sultry voice on the other end said.
Wes paused at the old name. He hadn’t been called that in years. “Any chance you’re free for a job, Bulldog?”
“For you? Anytime. Where? When? How much firepower do I need to bring?”
Wes shook his head at Bulldog’s willingness to jump into the fray with little explanation. “I need you to find and get close enough to watch a doctor in Cincinnati, Dylan Roberts.”
“Oh, is he handsome?”
“He is a she,” Wes said, remembering Chloe’s sister was a blonde version of her, “and quite beautiful.”
A snort came through the phone. “Well, I’ll take the job anyways. What did the doc do?”
“Nothing. Her sister has a stalker and I want to be sure the bastard doesn’t hurt Dylan as collateral damage.”
“How close do you want me to get?” Rustling sounded in the background and Wes knew his former team member was getting his go-bag out—the one each team member always had packed and ready to go when they got the word about an op—and double checking its contents.
“Don’t spook her. Just keep her safe.”
“Got it. This number good to reach you?”
“For now. If it changes, I’ll contact you.”
“One last thing, Chief,” Bulldog asked.
“Yeah?”
“How do you spell her name?”
“D-y-l-a-n.”
“Got it. Watch your back, Chief.”
“You, too, Bulldog.”
Time to check in with his team member and alert him that circumstances had just increased the threat level.
Pulling out his phone, he scrolled down until he found the number and hit call.
“What’s up, Chief?” Bulldog asked on the second ring.
“How are thing’s going with the doc?” Wes asked, turning on the windshield wipers as the sleet turned into fat snowflakes.
“Managed to secure a job in the OR department as a scrub tech. Good thing working for a medical temp agency I have licensure in all fifty states. The doc is not only a beautiful woman,” a deep chuckle sounded on the other side of the phone, “and yes, despite my own preferences, I can appreciate a beautiful woman, she’s also a skilled surgeon of the first order, and that’s something I appreciate even more.”
“I’m sure you do,” Wes said. They’d seen more than their share of injured and dying people who suffered at the hands of nervous or inept physicians. “Any signs of someone trailing her?”
“Other than the chief of surgery who’s a misogynistic throwback to the early twentieth century? Nope. Nothing unusual.”
“Is he going to be a problem for the doc?” Wes asked, wondering if he should have Bulldog have a chat with the man.
“I’d considered letting him know he was a little behind the times, but the doc took
care of him on her own.” Another chuckle. “When he cornered her in one of the scrub rooms last week, she disengaged his hand from her ass, with a twist of his thumb and a hit to his chest with the flat of her hand. Quite expertly, I might add. Then I heard her explain to him that her brother-in-law was a sheriff, her sister a deputy sheriff, and her other sister a lawyer and did he really want to risk bodily injury or a lawsuit to cop a feel?”
“Good for her.”
“Yep. Son-of-a-bitch is giving her a wide berth these days.”
Wes glanced to his right. Chloe still slept, her breathing easy and unlabored. “Keep a close eye on the lady doc the next few days. The threat level just increased.”
“What changed?” All humor had left Bulldog’s voice.
Wes quickly filled him in on the damage to her car.
“I’ve just moved his original target out of the area. The stalker may decide to use the doc as leverage or revenge on her sister.”
“Got it. Want me to take care of the car?”
“Yes. There’s a guy on the local force who could look into it. Take pictures and then you could get it towed to a shop to have new tires put on. Garage it for a week.”
He gave Bulldog the cop’s name, a man he’d done a favor for a few years back.
“Anything else, Chief?”
“Any chance you can watch the doc twenty-four seven?” If not, he’d have to find a way to get someone else close to help Bulldog keep her safe.
“Normally, I’d say no. It’s not like I can make a move on her and get an invite to spend the night.” Bulldog might flirt with a woman, but he’d always drawn the line at anything sexual. Said he wasn’t a switch-hitter. “But with this weather front rolling through, it’s a no brainer. Doc is in surgery as we speak, but appears her relief isn’t making it in through the sleet. She’s gonna be stuck here all night. I might just have to be stuck, too. Good thing she thinks I’m the best surgical tech she’s ever worked with.”
Wes grinned and shook his head. Bulldog had no lack of self-esteem. Good thing his skills matched his ego. “Good. I’ll contact you tomorrow.”
He disconnected and placed the phone in the cradle, connecting to the GPS.
Close To Danger (Westen Series Book 4) Page 5