HER BODYGUARD

by Michelle Jerott

  Matt's penlight illuminated the remains of a metal clasp. "Looks that way."

  He sent a questioning glance at Joey Mancuso, who nodded. "Yeah, that's it … and in better shape than I figured. We both aged pretty well." When Lili and Matt stared at him, he added, "That was a joke. I was always makin' jokes when I was scared spitless. Better to crack a joke than piss my britches, I figured."

  Incredibly, Lili found herself smothering a laugh beneath her hand. Even Matt smiled – a little.

  "Now what?" she asked.

  Relief rushed through her that this nightmare was over, and her life would soon be back to normal. But regret followed hard on relief, hitting her all the more intensely and painfully.

  She looked at Matt through a sudden film of tears, at his broad back, and thought: This is where the good-bye starts…

  "Now we call the cops," Matt said, not noticing her hastily wipe at her eyes. "Christ, I hope Monica got my message."

  "Nobody's calling the cops."

  The unfamiliar voice broke across the stillness. Before Matt could pull his gun, three men emerged from the darkness at the other side of the lodge where, obviously, they'd been waiting.

  "Don't do it, Hawkins," the man said. "Arms up."

  Fear gripped Lili. She knew that voice… Oh, God, she'd never forget that harsh voice in her ear at the Art Institute, telling her to shut up or he'd kill her.

  Only this time she could see her attacker's face. Dark, ordinary. Medium build. Light eyes, but as cold and soulless as a shark's. The other two men – one built like a sumo wrestler, the other very blond and gaunt – had their guns aimed at Matt. The guns were dull black, and almost hidden in the darkness.

  Lili went still, darting a glance toward Matt – and saw him looking at Joey with dark, silent rage. The violence of his expression terrified her.

  Joey didn't look at either her or Matt, but stared straight ahead. Sickened and stunned by his betrayal, she whispered, "How could you?"

  "Shut up," said the head thug tonelessly. "Do as I say, and I won't kill your bodyguard."

  A lie. They had no intention of letting her or Matt live, or else they'd never have allowed a clear enough look at their faces to identify them.

  "Where's the shoes, Conroy?"

  Conroy? They didn't know the truth, either, then.

  "Ain't my fault. I told you to leave her behind." Joey turned to Matt, gaze unwavering, then added, "The gal has the shoes in her backpack."

  "Bones, get me the bag," the leader ordered.

  Lili tensed, waiting for Matt to make his move, ready to run or dive toward the ground at an instant's notice.

  The gaunt blond walked forward, eyes unblinking, gun ready. He brushed against Lili, and she shuddered at the touch. She could feel him behind her, smell the sweat, cigarette smoke, and the night's dampness rising from his clothes, feel his breath stirring her hair. Matt stiffened beside her, and while he looked calm, his hands in the air, she could feel the tense vibration of his body as he forced himself not to react. Lili took in quick, shallow breaths, trying not to think of the man behind her, and how easily he could put a bullet through the back of her head.

  Sweat dripped down her spine, her scalp tingling.

  Bones yanked off the backpack, and she stoically looked down at her feet as her body jerked back at his roughness. Fear beat at her like dark wings, but fury had its claws in her, just as it had that very first day.

  Her life would not end like this, shot down like a rabid dog in some godforsaken woods out in the middle of nowhere. Not without a fight.

  At that moment, moonlight caught on a silvery glint of metal. She froze. Beside her, Matt jerked in surprise.

  Joey Mancuso had hauled out a gun from his jacket. His hands shook as he aimed, but the leader's back was just inches away.

  The blond gunman yelled a warning, and Lili had just enough time to think: Oh, God, not again…

  Matt yanked her behind him with one hand, putting his gun with the other, as the first shot exploded with earsplitting violence.

  A split second of silence, then shouts and curses, and the answering roar of guns. She felt the recoil in Matt's body, crouched over her, with each shot he fired.

  Caught between Matt and the lodge, Lili couldn't see what was happening. She knew a body lay in front of her, though, and as she felt Matt stumble and heard his low hiss of pain, she grabbed for her pocket knife.

  Piddly or not, it was a weapon.

  Matt suddenly slammed back, knocking the breath out of her in a painful rush. It took a moment for her to realize he was locked in a struggle with the huge gunman, who was intent on knocking the gun out of Matt's hand.

  Matt was strong and quick, but this man had sheer bulk and brute strength behind him.

  Quickly, Lili scrambled out from behind his protection and into the open.

  "Lili, run!"

  In a split second, her surroundings registered: the lights blazing in the lodge, panicked shouting erupting inside, and over that, the distant wail of sirens – somebody in the lodge must've already called the cops.

  Three shapes lay on the ground, unmoving.

  "Goddammit, Lili!" Matt's voice was strained, desperate. "Run for cover!"

  She pulled out the knife and pried it open – and knew at once the small blade would have no impact on that hulk ramming Matt against the building, again and again and again.

  Oh, God, he couldn't take much more of that.

  Frantically, she searched for a weapon. Her gaze touched on the guns that had fallen on the ground, and skittered over them. She'd probably end up shooting herself or Matt.

  Scattered across the lawn were rocks, sticks, and branches. She seized one of the largest branches just as Matt made a tight, low sound of pain, and his gun flew out of his hand.

  No time for fear.

  With a shout of rage, Lili ran forward and swung the branch down across the back of Matt's attacker with all her strength. It impacted on flesh and bone with a force that numbed her fingers, and sent tingling shocks down her arms.

  With a grunt, the man turned and knocked her back with his huge fist. The blow took her on the side of the face, pain exploding outward, and she stumbled back, falling on the hard ground with a gasp.

  "Dumb bitch," he snarled, as he pulled another gun and aimed it at her head.

  Her first thought was to close her eyes, so she wouldn't see it coming – but instead she stared back, letting him see her contempt and anger.

  Then half of the gunman vanished behind a dark, solid blur.

  Matt rolled between her and the gunman, firing rapidly, his face a tight mask of concentration.

  Graziano's hulking gunman staggered back, shook himself, and took another step toward Matt.

  Swearing, Matt fired twice more.

  Over Matt's crouched body, the gunman's eyes met Lili's. A look of surprise crossed his face, then his expression went eerily blank. His gun fell from his hand. He opened his mouth, and a thin line of blood ran down his chin.

  Lili squeezed her eyes shut, turning away, fighting back a wave of nausea, and struggling to control the dark terror pushing upward from within her. She heard the man fall, a boneless drop to the ground, heavy and dense and final.

  But it took him several seconds to die, the gasping sounds he made terrible to hear. Finally, there was silence, and only then did she hear the sounds of her own weeping.

  She opened her eyes to see Matt hunkered before her. Their eyes locked as she took a long, sobbing breath, shaking her head, as if denying it would make all the ugliness go away.

  "Lili," Matt said.

  He reached for her, and she saw the red smear on his hands.

  She recoiled.

  Twenty-Two

  Matt stared at Lili, reading the fear and revulsion on her face. Stunned, he couldn't move, hurt beyond words, more than the white-hot pain in his arm where he'd caught a slug.

  He dropped his hand.

  Fighting back the pain and a ho
llow despair, he turned, holstering the Glock. For the first time, his focus widened, and he took in the scope of the carnage. Two of Graziano's men were dead; the blond was groaning and moving feebly. Joey Mancuso lay curled on the ground. Sirens sounded very close now … and he heard voices in the lodge, raised in anger and fear. The air smelled of cordite and blood.

  More than anything, he wanted to sit down, but he had to take control of the situation before somebody lost their head and started shooting.

  "It's all over, don't anybody panic," he yelled. His gaze touched on Lili's pale face, guilt and remorse hammering at him, before he looked at Mancuso's body and the wounded gunman. "And call an ambulance … now!"

  Quickly, Matt retrieved the fallen weapons, and threw them into the bushes. Then, still facing the nearly unconscious gunman to keep an eye on him, he dropped to his knees beside Mancuso. He turned him onto his back, and whispered, "Oh, Jesus."

  An old Colt .45 lay close by, and Mancuso's chest, rising and falling in erratic, rapid breaths, was dark with blood.

  "Hold on," he muttered. Lili scooted toward him as the lodge's front door burst open. He met her gaze, and knew she'd see in his eyes that Mancuso wouldn't make it. "Help's on the way, just hold on."

  The old man's eyes fluttered opened. "Lili … safe?"

  Matt swallowed. "Yeah. She's safe."

  "Good." With an effort, Mancuso dragged in air, and wheezed out. His hand suddenly flailed upward and Matt caught it in his own without hesitation.

  "Hold on," Matt repeated, not understanding this stab of grief for a man he could never like, and who'd very likely betrayed him and Lili.

  "Good God," said a voice from behind him. "What happened?"

  "Aw, hell!" A new voice – the owner – full of shock and anger. "My place … you shot up my place!"

  "Stand back," Matt barked, without turning or taking his gaze from Mancuso. "Watch that man over there. I don't think he's armed, but don't count on it. Somebody get me a towel!"

  The sirens were close, and he could see the glow of red and blue lights. He was aware of the babble of voices around him, a warm hand on his arm, fingers painfully tight. Somebody shoved a shirt at him instead of a towel, and he took it, trying to staunch the bleeding.

  "No good," Mancuso whispered. He took a long breath, and his lips twitched in what might've been a smile, or maybe just a grimace of pain. "Here I am bleeding all over … this same goddamn place again. Pretty good … joke…"

  Mancuso shuddered as if seized with a sudden coldness, and then he gave a loud sigh, and went still.

  Tightening his grip on the old man's hand, Matt leaned close and whispered, "Joey?"

  But there was no response. Carefully Matt eased his hand free, and laid Mancuso's hand down against his chest.

  He turned, and met Lili's gaze. A single tear tracked down the dirt on her face. Her lip was bleeding a little where Graziano's goon had hit her. Her hand was on his shoulder, and it had been her fingers digging into his skin.

  Looking beyond her to the knot of a half-dozen men behind her, some wearing only underwear, he read confusion and shock on their faces.

  "That's … Jesus, that's old Willis Conroy! Doug, you better call Frank and Susie," ordered the lodge's owner, toting a shotgun in a stance that said he knew how to use it. He looked at Matt, and recognition sharpened his gaze. "You! I remember you were here yesterday, asking questions… What the hell are you doing? What's this—"

  The rest of his question was lost in the wail of sirens. Three squad cars careened onto the gravel drive, lightbars whirling red and blue, sirens blaring at ear-splitting decibels. Local deputies, followed by what looked like a park ranger's Explorer.

  Matt stood. He turned from Mancuso's body, and raised his hands. "Get your hands up where they can see them, Lili. Now."

  Her eyes glinting with sudden unease, she did as he ordered.

  And none too soon, as cops poured out of the squads, guns drawn, and yelling. The general gist was: Face down on the ground, hands behind your head! Everybody!

  "Do it," Matt said tersely. "Small-town cops can get a little nervous."

  He eased himself to the ground, the rocks, sticks, and pine needles jabbing him, hands behind his head, his face in the grit. Lili followed, and then the men from the lodge, all of them silent and round-eyed, except the cursing owner, who was protesting loudly over the shouting deputies.

  After his Glock was taken away, Matt found himself roughly hauled up and slammed against the lodge. The deputy yanked his hands behind him and cuffed him. The movement pulled at the torn flesh in his arm, shooting pain through him, and he grimaced, but said nothing.

  Turning his head, he saw another deputy push Lili against the building as well. He met her eyes as the other deputy quickly searched her, seeing her fear and humiliation at such treatment.

  He hoped she could see in his eyes how sorry he was for getting her into this mess.

  A female voice he recognized shouted, "Hey! Take it easy – they're not the dirtbags, dammit. Are you blind or just stupid? He's bleeding!"

  Monica Espinosa, way out of her jurisdiction and not letting that stop her from throwing out orders.

  At least now he knew why she hadn't returned his earlier calls. He had no idea what she was doing here, but at the moment he didn't care. If ever he needed a cop on his side, it was now.

  "Well, excuse me, Detective," a man snapped back. "But it appears I have a bunch of dead bodies and a helluva lot of firepower here. My job is to secure the scene first and make nice later."

  "Sheriff Fitch, these are the people I was talking to you about: Professor Lili Kavanaugh and her bodyguard, Matt Hawkins," Monica said, parking herself between him and Lili. "Uncuff them, and let him sit down before he passes out."

  With his face still pressed against the building, he could barely see Monica squaring off against a big man with a brush cut. Finally Fitch swore under his breath, then said, "Take the cuffs off this man and get him some bandages. Let the woman go. The ambulance is on the way, but it'll be at least fifteen minutes." He turned. "And let these other men up. Why the hell couldn't you people stay inside instead of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong? Is that one dead?"

  The park ranger, hand on his gun, leaned over the blond hitman and said, "He's shot up pretty bad, but he's breathing."

  "I recognize him," Monica said. "John 'Bones' Gallagher. The short one is Michael Fiore. I don't know the ox. Gallagher and Fiore are Graziano's men. Fiore is rumored to be his main hitman."

  "Not anymore, he ain't." Sheriff Fitch rubbed his hands over his face. "Aw, please … tell me that ain't old man Conroy. He's a popular character around these parts, always had a joke, a good story to tell. What the hell are people gonna think about this? Christ, he was ninety-something!"

  Matt briefly caught Lili's eye and leaned back against the wall. "They'll shake their heads, and talk about how Willis Conroy died a few feet from where the partner he ratted out seventy years ago was gunned down. Just one more chapter in the legend of Joey and Rose."

  Lili didn't challenge the lie of Mancuso's identity. Maybe she, too, realized it wouldn't serve any purpose.

  If it had been possible, he would've pulled her close to comfort her and shield her from this rough handling and the brutal ugliness.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked Monica as she came up beside him.

  "Playing cavalry," she retorted. Anger burned in her eyes, but beneath it was concern. "I dropped by to talk to Crazy Tony and found out he'd left town. I had a real bad feeling about that, and when you didn't call, I decided I'd better haul ass up here and alert the locals to what was going on." Monica's gaze shifted to Lili. "You okay?"

  "A little shook up." Touching a finger to her lip, she said, "But I'm okay." Lili moved to Matt, concern filling her gaze. "You're bleeding. What happened?"

  "Caught one," he said tersely. "It's not bad."

  "That's what you said the last time." Monica sighed and muttered, "I
'm not sure I want to know what your definition of 'bad' is. I told you not to shoot anybody."

  "It's not like I had a choice."

  "Yeah, I know." Monica looked over the bodies of Graziano's men. "You tangled with some very bad people. We bagged Tony himself, by the way. The cocky old bastard was sitting in a little bar in town, waiting for his goons to show up, his limo parked outside. Two state troopers just walked in and took him into custody on the spot. We were on our way to Conroy Cove Resort when the 911 came in from the lodge here." She moved closer. "Who opened fire first?"

  Matt glanced at Joey Mancuso. "The old man."

  "Why?" asked Sheriff Fitch.

  "I don't know. I didn't get a chance to ask." Matt dropped his head back against the lodge, struggling against a sudden wave of nausea and pain. A square-jawed deputy handed him a wad of gauze, and he pressed it against his arm, wincing. "Maybe he was trying to even an old score. He shot Graziano's main hitman in the back, and then all hell broke loose. The blond guy shot Conroy. I pulled my gun and took him down, just as the big bastard came at me. I was getting hammered, until Lili hit him with a branch. He knocked her aside, and was going to kill her, Monica. I didn't have a choice. I had to shoot."

  "Nobody's going to mourn these bastards," Fitch said, "and it doesn't much matter to me who shot them. Self-defense, is how I see it."

  Matt met the sheriff's dark eyes, then shifted his focus to Monica. Reading the warning in her gaze, he kept his mouth shut, and nodded.

  "But what I'd really like to know is what the hell were you doing out here to begin with," Fitch said.

  "That's a long story," Matt said.

  "I reckon we have plenty of time," the man said dryly.

  In a few minutes, Matt explained the whole tangled tale as best he could. One of the rangers poked at the old leather bag in the dirt and said, "I'll be damned. This is gotta be the craziest thing I've ever heard … all this trouble, over a wedding ring and a pair of old shoes."

  "Shoes carrying a small fortune in diamonds," Lili said. She retrieved the backpack, and pulled out one of the shoes. All the men stared at it for a moment, and the ranger shook his head again.