Under Pressure

by Lori Foster

  He’d had a hand on her ass.

  Every hour with her made a week of celibacy seem more impossible.

  While she napped, he dug into some computer work, confident in the security of the Body Armor servers. Sahara’s PI would be doing similar research on Webb Nicholson, but that didn’t assuage his own need to dig around. He needed to know all of Webb’s closest associates, and whether or not the man had ever been to Désir Island.

  He started a list, breaking down names by business, politics and family. He’d cross-check those against known visitors to the island. Although, the more he learned about Désir, the more he realized that most visits were kept top secret.

  After finding more names, he added a column for actors to the list of associates.

  Webb Nicholson got around. Leese found plenty of information about Webb getting cozy with people who’d been to the island, but nothing specific about Webb himself going there.

  Pushing back from the laptop, Leese lifted the paper and slouched in his chair to study it. None of the names jumped out at him as being obviously corrupt enough to murder. One actor had been busted for cheating on his wife, another for posting an explicit sex video. A businessman had been arrested for embezzling. One politician was under indictment for attempting to steer a federal grant. Another for accepting bribes and kickbacks. Yet another for sexual harassment.

  Only a few on the list were squeaky-clean...and those men actually drew Leese’s attention more than the obviously shady ones.

  He picked up a highlighter and went over their names. When he leaned back to the laptop, Cat groaned, drawing his gaze.

  “You okay?”

  She went still, then drowsily sat up on the couch. Seeing him at the bar with his laptop, she asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Research.” He waited a beat, curious as to how she’d react, then said, “On your stepfather.”

  She didn’t make a sound, but her face went pale.

  Rather than push her, he waited, giving her time to get her thoughts in order. He knew there was so much she still hadn’t told him.

  Soon she’d have no choice.

  “You...you probably should leave that up to the PI.”

  “Why?”

  “It could be dangerous?”

  “Is that a question, Cat?”

  Irritation finally set in. “No, it’s a fact. I told you he’s dangerous. You know what he did—”

  “No. I know what you heard, that’s all. Until you tell me the names of the other men there that day, we can’t know what role Nicholson played in it.”

  She tossed aside the throw, swung her legs over the side of the couch and went still with another deep groan. “God Almighty,” she complained, “you killed my legs.”

  “That was all you, honey.” He put aside the paper and joined her, gently rubbing a thigh. “The aspirin didn’t help?”

  “I guess a little.” She stared toward the area where he’d been working. “Leese...”

  Bringing her face around, he asked, “What are you afraid I’ll find?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked away from his gaze. “If you research Webb, you’re bound to find an article or two about me.”

  “I saw them.” And he’d ignored most of it.

  “What if you see something that convinces you I’m nuts?”

  “Won’t happen. You’re more grounded in reality than anyone else I know. In fact, I’d say you’re unique.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “A very nice unique.”

  * * *

  CAT SIGHED. IN a different world, maybe in a romantic movie, this touching moment would mean a kiss, possibly more. But she couldn’t count on that, not from Leese.

  And even if he was inclined to a little hanky-panky before the agreed-upon week had passed, she had other things to worry about.

  He’d been poking around on the internet.

  “You realize any searches can be traced back to you, right?”

  His shoulder lifted in a don’t-worry-about-it shrug. “Body Armor has the best firewall available.”

  Would it be good enough?

  “Still...” What else could she say? You’re going to alert them, they’ll assume I’m talking and none of us will survive. It wouldn’t matter. He was determined to unravel the threat.

  “Why don’t you let the PI do his thing?” she asked.

  “He is. I’m just doing my thing too. You need to trust me.”

  She couldn’t hold back her frown. “Webb said that very thing to me.”

  Leese sat back, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t do that, Cat. Don’t compare me to him.”

  “I’m not. I mean, I was, but not the way you mean.”

  “You want to explain that?”

  How? Leese was nothing like Webb, but the point now was to dissuade him from digging in. “For a right-brained dreamer, living in a family full of left-brained workaholics felt a lot like ‘nuts,’ and not the nice kind. Before my mother passed away, she was a buffer, making the differences easier to take. But now that she’s gone...”

  Gone forever.

  Heartache left her quiet. In so many ways, she still missed her mom. Every day. Sometimes every minute.

  “Now?” Leese prompted.

  It shouldn’t still affect her, any of it, but it did. “Webb always thought I was immature. He’d often said I needed a better dose of the real world.”

  Leese snorted. “I’d say you’ve swallowed a pretty big dose lately.”

  “Maybe.” She certainly felt like she’d dealt with her fair share. “But the thing is, Webb told me that I was going down the wrong path, throwing away my opportunities by not taking advantage of family connections. He told me to trust him, to try things his way—”

  “His way is not my way.”

  “And I’m not into blind faith.”

  They stared at each other, the tension growing, until a sudden buzzing split the quiet.

  Startled, Cat jerked back, ready to run, to hide.

  “Easy,” Leese said. “It’s just the intercom.” He walked to the door and pushed a button on the wall. “What is it?”

  “Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Phelps,” said an eerie, disconnected voice. “You have a visitor. A Mr. Miles Dartman.”

  Horror washed over Cat. What visitor? An imposter? Someone trying to find a way in, a way to reach her?

  She meant to make the denial loud and clear, but her “No” sounded only as a breathless whisper.

  Watching her, Leese said into the speaker, “Allow him up.” As he stepped away from the door, his gaze never wavered. “I’m going out for a few hours. Miles is going to stay with you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  ALREADY SHAKING HER HEAD, Cat said again, louder this time, “No.”

  It hurt Leese to see her like this, so afraid, expecting the worst. From the moment he’d met her, she’d seemed genuine to him. His instincts had told him to believe in her, in the threats she detailed.

  Seeing her now, the unmistakable fear she couldn’t hide, he knew he’d been right. “It’s okay. I won’t be long.”

  “You can’t leave.”

  Needing to reassure her, Leese strode closer. “I’m only running a few necessary errands. Miles is a friend. He’s here to keep you company.”

  “You’re supposed to stay with me.”

  He could see the panic, and it gnawed on him. “I trust Miles. He’s a good friend, a good man, and he’s skilled.”

  Looking smaller, hurt, she whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”

  Leese considered how to handle her very real panic, what to do to snap her out of it. Most of the time Cat was strong, independent, determined. She’d barely awakened, and then he’d thrown her for a loop. He regretted not tellin
g her sooner.

  If she hadn’t napped, or if he hadn’t gotten so involved researching her father... But that didn’t matter now. She wouldn’t like showing so much blatant fear, not to him, definitely not to Miles.

  He settled on a method, and said with feigned indifference, “I’m going all the same. Just do me a favor and don’t give Miles a hard time.”

  The callous comment rid her of the vulnerability real fast. Jaw tight, eyes glittering, she slowly stood to face him. “Afraid I’ll pick on him? If I can, then how badass can he be?”

  “Very badass.” A knock sounded at the door. “Now behave.”

  He heard her indignant gasp as he turned his back and went to answer. He checked the peep hole first, saw Miles looking around in awe and opened the locks.

  “Hell of a setup you have here,” Miles said as he stepped in.

  “Yeah, it is.” They exchanged a quick, gruff bro hug. “Thanks for coming.”

  “No problem. You’ve got me curious.”

  “Curious,” Cat asked, “about what?”

  Miles looked toward her, then lifted a brow. “Hi.”

  Guessing there would be fireworks, Leese beckoned her forward. “Catalina, come meet Miles.”

  Unfortunately, an unholy light had entered Cat’s eyes.

  She sized up Miles, head to toe, sent a provoking look at Leese and purred, “My, my, my. So you’re my new protector?”

  Immediately charmed, Miles smiled at her. “Seems so.” He, too, looked at Leese.

  “No,” Leese said to him, answering a question he hadn’t asked, then to Cat, he repeated, “No,” to curb any ideas she might have.

  She asked, “You’re still leaving?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t want to wait any longer before going by her house. If anyone had rifled through it, he’d know.

  “Do what you must.” Her chin lifted and she strolled closer. “Tell me, Miles, do you have the same scruples as Leese?”

  “Scruples?” Miles asked, his amusement growing.

  “Cat,” Leese warned. He was relieved to again see her stiff pride, but she didn’t have to push it so far. “This won’t change anything.”

  “Go on,” she said, shooing him away. “I’m sure Miles and I will be fine. Isn’t that right, Miles?”

  For a split second, Leese wasn’t sure. Would she really throw herself at Miles as payback because he insisted on going, or was it an idle threat, a show meant to annoy him?

  He trusted Miles. Hell, he trusted Cat—even when she was in a vindictive mood.

  But just to be sure, he went to her, tipped up her chin and said again, “Behave.” Before she could reply he took her mouth, doing his best to singe her—and ensuring Miles understood the lay of the land.

  * * *

  ON THE LONG drive to her house, Leese thought a dozen times about what she and Miles might be doing. He’d warned Miles that they were both to stay put. No phone calls. No visitors. No surfing the web.

  Cat had replied that she’d find plenty for them to do, but Miles had only laughed.

  Right before he’d walked out, she’d asked how long he’d be.

  When he’d admitted he wouldn’t be back until the evening, he’d seen another flash of fear in her vivid blue eyes, but she’d quickly hidden it beneath attitude.

  She had bravado in spades.

  She was also the most vulnerable woman he’d ever known.

  Leese parked two blocks from her address then walked the rest of the way, constantly keeping watch. He saw kids playing, dogs barking, but no one suspicious.

  To alter his usual current appearance, he’d dressed down in sloppy jogging pants, a hooded sweatshirt, high-top sneakers and a ball cap, with sports sunglasses to hide his eyes. The different look, reminiscent of his fighting days when he’d jogged for hours, should keep him from being easily recognized.

  The neighborhood surprised him, being one of those communities where the houses sat close together with postage stamp-sized yards filled with enormous trees. Nothing about it said privilege or wealth.

  Her house, a small brick ranch, looked quiet, but the walk had been shoveled, and someone had tromped across the yard—kids, the one who’d done the shoveling, or her father’s cronies?

  Acting as if he belonged, hoping none of her neighbors would notice him, Leese went up the walk with a whistle, quickly picked the lock on the front door, then went inside and listened.

  Nothing.

  It took him a mere minute to go through the house—three bedrooms, one bath, an eat-in kitchen and a small living room. He was truly alone. After that quick survey, he ensured both doors and all windows were locked. He didn’t want to risk anyone busting in on him without notice.

  With all that done, he looked around with a critical eye.

  Oddly, only a small amount of mail littered the floor from the mail chute. He checked the postmarks and saw they were all from the past week.

  Had her stepfather been by to get the mail? Perhaps he’d even spoken with the neighbors so they didn’t get too nosy? That’d make sense. He could have also asked them to let him know if she showed up.

  She’d had a few plants, now dead. So someone had shoveled the walk, collected the mail, but hadn’t bothered watering the plants?

  Good thing she didn’t own a cat.

  At every window the drapes were drawn.

  Still in protective mode, he used a special device to sweep for electronic bugs and mini cams. He found only one tiny audio mic, no video, tucked inside a lampshade.

  Furious that anyone had tried to spy on her, Leese crushed it under his heel, then put the demolished pieces in his pocket to dispose of in a Dumpster on the drive back.

  Finally taking a relaxed breath, he felt free to notice more about the house—the plump sofa and chair, the paintings on the walls, the books on her bookshelf.

  Everything was colorful, bright, coordinated. Organized, but not overly so. She’d arranged the furniture for function, filling up the limited space of the living room.

  Going through each room, he took note of her decorating tastes, saw artwork he knew to be her own, some from other painters. Her bedroom was tidy, but with an unmade bed. Had she left in a hurry her last morning here?

  The guest bedroom had a futon, a rocking chair, a bookcase and small TV. She’d turned the third bedroom into sort of an office. Standing racks held art supplies. School papers and stacked folders nearly buried a desk painted bright red.

  In the kitchen, on the front of the refrigerator, she’d secured several childish drawings, no doubt from her students.

  It was easy to see how much they liked her.

  Not wanting to push his luck, he decided against lingering any longer. With every minute he remained he ran the risk of a neighbor getting nosy.

  Tucked inside a pantry, he found a large grocery tote and went back to the office. He couldn’t take it all; he’d look far too obvious leaving her house and walking back to his car with an overflowing floral tote. Being selective, he chose a moderately sized sketch pad, a box of paints, brushes and pencils. Back in the living room he took several DVDs from her shelf, then also selected a few books and the iPod he saw on the end table.

  Now for some clothes.

  The closet was ajar, a nightstand drawer slightly open and the covers tossed to the foot of her bed.

  First things first, he straightened the covers to provide a spot for sorting things. From her closet, he picked out warm clothes and stacked them on the bed. A sweatshirt, two sweaters, dress slacks. On the floor of the closet he found ankle boots, sneakers and snow boots.

  Could he manage to take it all?

  When he turned back to the bed, he again noticed the nightstand drawer. He waffled for only a moment, then peeked in...and saw a gun.

&
nbsp; Frowning, he opened the drawer wider and found a .38, a box of shells, cough drops and a small key.

  The gun was loaded.

  At least she had some protection. Smart for a woman living alone, especially for a woman with affluent relatives who could be hit for ransom.

  Thinking the key must go to a lockbox for the gun, he looked around, didn’t see it and bent to peer under the bed.

  He found the security box along with a dark, midsize suitcase. Perfect.

  Setting them both on the bed, he loaded the moderate suitcase—which would look a whole lot less conspicuous than the flowery tote—then took the key from the nightstand and opened the box so he could store her gun.

  Well, hell.

  The box wasn’t empty. Nope.

  Catalina had a vibrator. And a pack of rubbers.

  What type of woman left a loaded gun loose in a nightstand drawer, but locked up a vibrator and rubbers?

  Catalina Nicholson, of course. He had to grin.

  He was about to put the box back under the bed when he heard a noise, and knew his time was up.

  Things were about to get real. Time to do some damage.

  * * *

  “SO,” CAT SAID, keeping a safe distance from Leese’s buddy. “I take it you’re a fighter too?”

  As she walked to the other side of the bar, bright green eyes tracked her movement. “What gave me away?”

  The ripped body, the air of confidence. “All the boo-boos.”

  Grinning, he ran a hand through inky hair and laughed. “Yeah, that last fight was a bitch.”

  “You lost?”

  “No, ma’am. But I didn’t win as decisively as I would have liked.”

  Something about him helped her relax. Could be that crooked smile, or the obvious amusement he felt at her wariness. “Did Leese tell you why I was here?”

  “Bare bones.” Coming closer, he indicated a bar stool. “Mind if I sit?”

  She minded that he was now much closer, but wouldn’t tell him so. “Suit yourself.”

  “Thanks.” He shrugged off a coat, hung it on the back of the bar chair, then sat and braced solid forearms on the bar. “I know Leese is a bodyguard, so it stands to reason you need protection. He said you had to lay low, as in invisible, until they got things unraveled. That’s all I really know.”