“Gotcha.”
* * *
Jessica turned to watch Noah shut the door to the apartment behind him and lock it. He’d managed to smuggle her out through the restaurant kitchen. Despite her protests he’d insisted she leave the party. Although Hamish had been removed from the premises, he wasn’t taking any chances. She’d only argued half-heartedly. Her dress was crumpled, her hair was a mess. She didn’t want to think about her makeup. She wasn’t ready to face everyone after what she’d just done. Good grief, she definitely wasn’t ready to face her aunt. Sex with Noah had left her satiated, excited and very cooperative. He’d spoken briefly to Oliveria, and then hurried her out to a second car they’d parked in the alley.
Her cheeks bloomed with heat. They’d done IT—with the cream of San Francisco society on the other side of the door. She’d taken a huge risk. What if one of her guests had tried to enter the room? What if the staff had needed to retrieve something? She slapped her hand over her mouth.
Oh, dear God, what if they’d heard her? She wasn’t normally so vocal, but well, Noah wasn’t her normal experience. He’d looked at her, he’d kissed her, and suddenly she didn’t want to be the good girl anymore. She wanted to give in to her desire, to her want, and damn the consequences. He brought out her inner devil. And she liked it. Her eyelids lowered as she met his gaze. Without blinking, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the well-defined chest beneath.
Oh, yes, she definitely liked it.
He was dark, he was dangerous. He could be brutal with his honesty, but she was beginning to appreciate that, especially when he whispered such wonderfully erotic things into her ear. He was a strong man, powerful. Most men of her acquaintance advertised their power like a product they could sell, but Noah wore it naturally, like a second skin. He was smart, confident and, from the look in his eyes as he slowly walked toward her, determined.
And she loved him.
He paused in front of her, his brown eyes hot with desire as they dropped to her lips. Her breath stuttered. Her sensitive nipples peaked under her dress. Heat flooded through her. She wanted him again.
Her eyes dropped, and she saw the scar on his left biceps. She raised her hands to gently touch the puckered skin. “Does it hurt?” she whispered. She’d seen him rub it, every now and then, but only when he thought she wasn’t watching. She thought of the danger he must have been in, the pain he’d suffered. Yet here he was, prepared to risk his life again. For her.
“I don’t let it bother me.”
In other words, it probably did, but he wasn’t going to let on. Strong. Stoic.
His hands slid into her hair. He tilted her head back and gazed into her eyes before slowly lowering his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered close. Yes. He kissed her thoroughly, languidly, before pulling back.
“I want you,” he whispered against her mouth. “And this time, I want to take my time to learn every sexy inch of you.”
She trembled. Their first time had been hard and fast, and he’d been wonderful. Just the thought of making slow and sensual love with him again was enough to make her knees weak. And he thought she was sexy. Her heart pounded, and hot, liquid sensation flooded her, pooling in her center.
He kissed her again, slowly. She placed her hands on his chest. Warm. Solid. She remembered the first time she’d seen him without a shirt, in her kitchen. She’d wanted to do this then, touch him, caress him. She slid her arms up to entwine behind his neck and widened her mouth to his kiss. He leaned down and hooked his arm behind her legs and lifted. She squeaked when she felt her feet leave the ground, his body warm against her side as he walked toward the bedroom. Her heart hammered in her chest as his strength surrounded her, heated her.
“What about your arm?” she gasped.
“I’m concentrating on another part of my body,” he answered with a brief laugh.
“This is so much better than warm milk,” she laughed softly against his lips. She felt his chuckle as he kicked the bedroom door shut.
Chapter Sixteen
Drew stared at the report in front of him. “You’re kidding,” he said incredulously. Hamish had spent the night in jail when they’d discovered an outstanding bench warrant for some unpaid parking fines. That had given them enough time to check some things.
Louise Carmichael shook her head, her hair shining like burnished copper under the harsh glare of fluorescent lighting. “I’m afraid not.”
Drew flicked over a page, and then back. “Who did the testing?”
Louise sighed. “You do realize this was done as a favor? Do you know how long it takes to get fingerprints tested? Trust me. It was checked twice. I even asked the supervisor to run a new one. They threw me out, then. It’s real. It’s correct.”
“Damn.” He shut the file closed with a snap, and looked up.
Hamish Stewart buttoned up his jacket and smiled at his lawyer as he was led out of the office. He paused at the door and turned briefly to Drew, giving him a personal salute before he left the premises.
“I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it. Stewart didn’t make the letter bomb. We have no physical evidence that ties him to any of the correspondence or contact made with Jessica Pennington. We only have him dropping off a bunch of flowers.”
Drew ran a hand through his hair. “What about the restraining order from his ex-wife?”
Louise tilted her head to the side. “Do you realize how many men have restraining orders against them? Lots. And lots. Most for good reason, and unfortunately some are just nuisance actions.” She shook her head. “We can’t get a warrant for what we have on the guy.”
Drew sighed as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Noah isn’t going to be happy.”
“Why, because Stewart walked?”
“No, because maybe Stewart isn’t Jessica’s stalker, and whoever it is, he’s still out there.”
* * *
Noah stood beside Jessica as they rode the elevator to Jacqueline Pennington’s imperial suite at the San Francisco Hilton. “You could just call her, you know.”
Jessica shook her head. “No. I have to apologize in person for leaving my party without saying goodbye to her. Besides, we have a date for morning tea.”
The elevator opened, and they stepped into a grand foyer. Noah whistled. So, this is how the other half live. He looked at all the cool marble and gold trim, the expensive paintings and sculptures, and then looked at Jessica. While she looked comfortable and confident in these surroundings, he thought of her warm and welcoming home, and her relaxed air when throwing a basketball around with teenagers. She wasn’t suited to this environment. He didn’t know why he hadn’t realized it before. She tried her best to fit in, but she didn’t, not completely. Like a visitor to a foreign country, she might speak the language, but she wasn’t a native.
She met his gaze briefly, and he winked. She looked away, but not before he saw her answering smile and the heated stain rising in her cheeks. She’d massaged his arm in the early hours of the morning, and the massage had led to more lovemaking. He’d discovered just how far that blush could go. He was hoping to give her more reasons to blush, later. He grinned as they approached the door to the suite. It was ajar.
“Did you tell your aunt when we were coming?”
“Uh, no.”
He raised his arm as he stepped up to the door. “Stay here.” His phone rang in his pocket, and he lifted it out briefly to silence it, noticing the number displayed on the screen. He’d have to return Drew’s call later.
“What’s wrong?” Jessica’s voice was low, and she didn’t bother to hide her worry.
“Just let me check it out.” It was too quiet, too still. Something’s not right.
He entered the suite, glancing around. Still silence. He stepped down into the split-level lounge
area, and his foot kicked something as he walked around a sofa. He looked down.
Cream fabric stained with crimson. Bile rose in his throat.
“Look, I don’t want to—” Jessica said behind him.
“No, Jess, don’t.” He whipped around and tried to stop her entering, but he was too late. She saw the body on the floor. Saw the blood. Her eyes widened and she let out a heart-rending, terrible, keening cry as she stared at the mess that had been made of her aunt’s body.
* * *
Jessica lay curled up on the bed, staring out of the window. Rain dribbled down the glass and the weak gray light cast tendrils of shadow across the darkened bedroom, like scrabbling hands creeping from the grave. She watched one raindrop slowly make its way down the cold pane.
Aunt Jacquie is dead.
She tugged the pillow closer as a slow tear leaked down her cheek. She’d been in this room for three days. At least, she thought it was three days. She wasn’t sure. She hadn’t really paid much attention to the passing of time. Noah and Oliveria had brought in trays of food, but she wasn’t hungry. She was tired. She was sad. And she was very, very angry. But she wasn’t hungry.
Aunt Jacquie is dead, and it’s all my fault.
More tears fell. All she seemed able to do now was cry. She couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her aunt’s mutilated body, lying in a pool of blood.
Her aunt would never “drop by” again. She’d never call her again to remonstrate her for the latest embarrassment. She’d never organize morning tea in her hotel suite for when she was in town.
And Aunt Jacquie would never see the linen Jessica had picked out for her. She’d never get that pleasant surprise, and Jessica would never see that smile of approval.
Jessica would never be able to repay the debt she owed her aunt for taking in an ignorant orphan, and giving her a home.
Jessica whimpered. In the three days since her aunt’s murder she’d hidden in the second bedroom of Drew’s apartment. She couldn’t go to work, couldn’t concentrate. And the press was camped outside her office building. They were also apparently camped out at her home, but that didn’t bother her. They didn’t know her location. After what had happened, she never wanted to go back there. Never wanted to look at the escritoire that she’d thought would impress her aunt. Never wanted to see the scrubbed clean ceiling of her bathroom, knowing that the man who’d painted that horrible message there had killed her aunt. Oh, the police claimed they were investigating all possible leads, but Jessica forced herself to face facts. They still didn’t know who was behind these atrocities.
She thought of Noah. He’d come in every few hours to check on her, and to give her an update. Sometimes he’d lie down with her on the bed and just hold her. She hadn’t thanked him, but those intimate moments of just sharing space and time had a grounding effect on her. Otherwise she could almost drift away on this dark river of despair.
How could her stalker do this? How could he strike out at her aunt? The woman had done nothing. Heck, Jessica didn’t even know what she had done to deserve this attention, but her aunt definitely wasn’t to blame—yet she’d paid the ultimate price.
This man was going after everything she cared about. It was only through Noah’s quick reflexes that the letter bomb hadn’t maimed or killed her, or one of her staff, or possibly even her clients. This psycho had shaken her self-confidence when he’d called her at the station. He’d almost cost some of her clients their reputations and business, merely by their association with her. Again, if Noah and his team hadn’t acted so quickly, the damage would have been much worse. The stalker had used someone’s blood to paint that message on her ceiling. She could only assume that person was also dead.
And so is Aunt Jacquie.
This man wouldn’t rest until he’d annihilated everyone and everything she cared for.
Anyone close to her was a potential target. And Noah was the most likely person to be hurt next. Or killed.
She took a deep, dragging breath as she tried to fill her lungs, tried to stave off the panic attack that thought provoked.
Noah was her bodyguard. His job was to put his life at risk to save hers. And she loved him. She couldn’t bear it if he got hurt, or worse, because of her. And he would. He was very good at his job. He wouldn’t give a second thought to putting himself in the line of fire. And then somebody else would die, because of her.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t be responsible for another death, for more pain and suffering—especially Noah’s. She had to end this. She had to remove all potential targets from the attention of her stalker. She sat up in bed. She had to make some phone calls.
* * *
Noah stood near the door to Jessica’s building. He didn’t like it. He watched as members of the press rubbed shoulders and elbowed their way into a prime position on the sidewalk. He heard the whispers of interest, the buzzing of anticipation.
Jessica had called a press conference. The rain had stopped, as though heaven itself was waiting to hear what she had to say. He was half-crazy with worry over her. She hadn’t talked in three days, and the first time she’d spoken to him, it was to ask if she could borrow his phone. The passionate, caring woman he’d made love to was hidden from him. He just prayed she wasn’t gone forever. Now she stood subdued, somber. She’d made her mind up about something, and that caused him the greatest worry of all. She wasn’t clueing anyone in either. Not him, not Oliveria. That hurt. She was mourning her aunt’s death, he understood that. She was probably freaked out of her mind by the stalker—he understood that, too. But he couldn’t help her. She wouldn’t talk with him. Oh, she was polite with her requests and instructions, but they hadn’t really talked. For someone who didn’t do warm and fuzzy, this burning desire to share deep thoughts and emotions was driving him nuts. Normally, he didn’t care what others thought. But this woman was different.
He didn’t like it.
Jessica took up a position on the top step, and waited quietly for the noise to die down. Noah crossed his arms. He wanted to reach out to her, enfold her in his arms. She was pale and drawn. She’d lost weight. Her chin lifted slightly as she stared out at the collected reporters. She was vulnerable, shaken, but still carried an inner strength and determination he could only marvel at.
“Thank you all so much for coming,” Jessica began in a smooth, low voice. “I’m just going to make a statement, there will be no questions.”
She shuffled the papers in front of her. “As you know, my aunt, Jacqueline Pennington, was murdered.”
Noah saw her throat work as she swallowed. He shifted. He wanted to go to her. He held back, respecting her need to do this—whatever this was.
“Due to recent events, I have decided to close the Pennington Business Academy until further notice.”
Noah started, as did the crowd of reporters. Several called out, and hands rose as they tried to query her statement. She kept speaking, and gradually the noise died down. Noah darted a shocked glance at Oliveria. The Hispanic woman’s expression was just as stunned as his own.
“Any clients with outstanding fees will, of course, receive a complete refund. I am also withdrawing from any scheduled public appearances. I apologize for the inconvenience I know this will cause. Please be assured, this decision is not made lightly, but for my own reasons, I believe this is the most suitable course to take.”
Jessica looked up, eyeing the reporters and the cameras, directly. “And to the person responsible for my aunt’s murder, I want you to know there is nothing left. I have nothing left to lose. You can’t do anything, not anymore.”
She turned away from the podium and slowly walked away, ignoring the shouted questions, the bustling as the reporters waved and advanced in an effort to gain her attention.
Noah held the door open for her to enter the building, an
d let Ryan and Mitchell hold back the press.
He followed her to the elevator, and waited for the doors to close before he spoke.
“Why?” He kept his tone casual, inquisitive.
“I think it’s time for a change.”
The doors slid open, and they stepped out and entered the Pennington Business Academy.
A change? Her aunt’s death would be a pretty damn big change. “Do you think this is the right time to make decisions that will affect your life so drastically?”
Jessica turned to him, her gaze haughty, cool. “I think it’s the perfect time. This builds quite the buzz around my business, and means my clients will pay more for my exclusive services when I decide to reopen. By the way, your services are no longer needed.”
Noah couldn’t have heard her right. “Pardon?” She sounded so cold, so calculated and ruthless.
Jessica’s smile was brittle. “You’re fired.”
“What the—?” Noah was flummoxed.
“You didn’t get him. Since you arrived, my business has been sabotaged, he’s called me, and now he’s killed my aunt. From where I stand, you’re incompetent. Your arm is still bothering you. You’re not up to the task. I don’t want you anywhere near me.” Jessica’s gaze was direct.
Noah gaped, and Jessica’s eyes flickered, before looking over to a stunned Gwen behind the reception desk. “Mr. Samuels was just leaving. Please make arrangements for his transport.”
“S-sure.” Gwen nodded.
Jessica turned to walk to her office, but Noah grabbed her arm. She was mistaken. She was still in danger. She thought he was incompetent?
“He’s still out there, Jess. You can’t do this.” He didn’t try to hide his anxiety, his concern. The woman he loved was kicking him to the curb.
She coolly gazed at his hand on her arm until he let her go. “I just did,” she said huskily, and entered her office, closing the door with a quiet snick. Her hand rose to the blinds, and she twisted the rod to close them.
Guarding Jess Page 18