“Yes and I appreciate you for taking the time to call,” he answered in that urbane, overly cultured voice that I was convinced he’d cultivated and hadn’t grown up using. “I needed to ensure that you were all right albeit not available. After all, the last time we spoke was three days ago when we’d made arrangements to go to lunch.”
There was censure in both his voice and his unblinking eyes.
I might not have remembered a whole lot about the few days I’d been out of Albuquerque but I was sure that we were again to meet at his office to go over some finer points of some of my father’s accounts. There had been no offer made or acceptance given for the sharing of a meal, but I had been raised where that brand of coercion was standard procedure and remembered how to handle it. “I think you have the wrong girl, Agent Moore. Our appointment was to only to have a business meeting.”
He came closer to the bed and I got whiff of his cologne, something that smelled expensive and overpowering or it could’ve been that he just used way too much of it for my taste. But I was too well bred to say anything and concentrated on breathing through my mouth as I looked him over.
Even though I was scared down to my bones at the way the man stared at me as if he was trying to see into my mind in some way.
How had he gotten in? Had he knocked and I didn’t hear it?
And why, oh dear god why, was he there at my bedside?
I needed Silo.
Or a sledgehammer.
But as I eyed the man before me, meticulously dressed in a fitted suit, crisp white shirt and tie that only barely spoke of color, there was nothing about him that said he was there to hurt me in anyway. Then too, there wasn’t anything about him that interested me in any way, shape or form either. Just as his voice was too refined, too studied to be real, so was his appearance from the top of his carefully coiffed dark brown curls to his gently scuffed but very expensive shoes.
“Perhaps it was simply a misunderstanding, Miss Palmer. Typically in the Bureau,” he paused for effect as if the shortened name of the government agency where he worked actually carried some kind of weight. “When there is a meeting that begins before noon then having lunch together afterward is a natural assumption.”
What the heck? If I was right, the meeting had been scheduled for eleven that I’d tried to get moved to later in the day. Had he deliberately tried to maneuver me into having lunch with him? A situation I would’ve never agreed to! “I’m so terribly sorry,” I forced myself to say even though I wasn’t in the least. “I was not aware that we were to conclude our business meeting with a social one.”
My hands were cramping from the clutch I had on the sheet over my chest.
The man gave me a small smile and reached to pat my hand only I’d seen his intended move and had shifted my arm in order to avoid it. Which caused his fingers to graze against the bandage of the former IV that was taped to the back of my palm, causing me to gasp. “Oh. Are you alright? The nurse at the station said that you…”
I held up my unencumbered and reasonably healthy hand in order to stop his words. “Wait! You asked about my condition from one of the nurses at the hospital?”
“Well, yes. Of course.” The bureaucrat’s carefully measured tone seemed to indicate that he was somehow entitled to be included in anything to do with me.
“So what was it that she told you then?” I chuffed, thanking God that the nurse had not been fooled and held off disclosing any information. Had Silo given the hospital his home address? How else could the man have known where I was? Agent Moore could be charmingly persuasive when it suited his purposes. I would know, having fallen for his brand of obtaining data on more than one occasion in the last several months.
“Only that you had been sick but were healing nicely. And had just been released to the care of a Silas Kettering.”
I couldn’t help my sigh of relief and just as I’d taken in another gulp of air in order to demand why he was in Missoula, much less in Silo’s home unannounced and without permission, my eyes caught on Silo’s large, beautifully muscled body coming through the open door. “Hey, princess!”
But he stopped so fast that the heels of his boots squeaked against the floorboards as his eyes hit the other man in the room.
It was as if the big man had encountered a snake causing him to immediately stiffen at the sight.
“Si!” Even if the smile I forced myself to wear was not reflected in my voice, my relief at his unexpected arrival was. “Oh! And Brand! How nice to see you again!”
Silo came to the other side of my bed from where Agent Moore stood and dropped a kiss on my forehead before leaning down to search my face. He didn’t seemed concerned with the stranger in the room viewing his display of affection but something of my emotions, the sheer respite of knowing he’d deal with the federal agent must have been visible. He glanced at the carefully styled man before turning his eyes back to me. “You’re looking like you feel a bit better. Did you finish the rest of your lunch like a good little girl?”
“I do and I did,” I answered with an involuntary smile at his teasing and the way he took my mind away from the issue at hand.
When his eyes changed from the bluey-gray to storm-gray, I knew he was more than aware of Agent Moore’s presence. Even before his shot his eyes across my bed to take the other man in, raking over the business suit and the federal agent’s carefully held posture, I watched as Silo dismissed him out of hand.
I quickly went into young-socialite mode and did the Palmer-gracious thing that had been a part of me almost since birth. I turned my head back to the others in the room and began the introductions. “Silo Kettering, Brand, this is Federal Agent Moore. He’s the one that heads the FBI team that is investigating my father.”
The two burly biker’s hands almost swallowed the other man’s as they shook which wasn’t a surprise since the two of them towered over the shorter agent and probably outweighed him by a good fifty to seventy-five pounds apiece.
“You are investigating her father? So your jurisdiction is in New Mexico, is it not?” Brand asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he began to frown. “What then, would bring a federal agent all the way to Montana when he is leading an active investigation?”
I turned my eyes back to Agent Moore and saw him swallow before he carefully and studiously adjusted the cuffs of his shirt beneath his suit jacket. “My jurisdiction is wherever I feel I need to be in. Miss Palmer has been very cooperative in providing the Bureau with information on the numerous accounts her father was responsible for. When I learned of her being in the hospital, I felt compelled to ensure she was…”
Brand’s voice, much like Silo’s in that it was a deep growl, cut through the agent’s imperious speech that had been given in an ‘do not question me’ voice. “I, too, worked for the government, specifically the ATF. So I’m aware of what an agent, even a lead on an investigation, is allowed to do. A simple phone call would have sufficed rather than to enter a residential home without the owner’s express permission.” Brand’s eyes flicked to Silo, then me before returning to stare at Agent Moore. “So I will ask you again only in more simplistic terms. Why are you here?”
Agent Moore shifted his weight and straightened his spine into something that resembled military bearing even as his cheeks flushed. “That information is none of your concern and is only given on a need-to-know basis.”
“It’s my fucking house, shithead. If it ain’t my fucking concern, whose is it then?” Silo ground out and I felt my spirits lift at how very firm he sounded. I knew Silo didn’t take crap from anyone and as a Hellion, had the ability to make life very miserable for the bureaucrat.
I could see a muscle flexing in Silo’s jaw and I wondered if he was clenching his teeth to keep himself in check or just because he was angry to find a stranger in his home. The room was filling with tension but I wasn’t sure what had caused all three men to begin to square off almost as soon as I’d finished the introductions.
; Outside of having a member of the FBI in an outlaw biker’s personal home without a warrant, that is.
“This is between the Bureau and Miss Palmer,” Agent Moore explained in a tight voice, his face going to stone before his eyes moved to Brand. “As a former agent yourself, I’m sure you’re cognizant of the fact we are not allowed to discuss an on-going case with those not directly involved.”
Brand didn’t immediately answer but his light green eyes studied the outsider who was still standing right next to my bed. “Yes, I am, as you say, ‘cognizant’ of the restrictions regarding the distribution of information to outsiders. But that was not the question.” Brand leaned in from his position at the foot of my mattress until he was only a foot away from the agent just by bending from the hips. “The question was why you are here in Missoula, in a Hellion club member’s home unannounced and uninvited, when a simple phone call would have provided you with any data regarding Miss Palmer’s condition?”
Agent Moore’s chin lifted and I again saw his cheeks darken. I got the impression the man wasn’t often the one being questioned and didn’t seem to appear to like it very much.
“As a matter of fact,” Silo barked, causing both my body and my heart to jump at its volume. “How the fuck did you know where she was? And how did you get in?”
“I, ah.” Agent Moore’s chin was jutting in Silo’s direction. “That’s confidential.”
“Bullshit!” I could hear the creaking of the plastic bedrail underneath Silo’s fingers and placed my reasonably healthy right hand over his to try and get him back to calm.
The agent’s brown eyes went unfocused as if he was thinking before he next spoke. I got the impression the federal agent had been caught dead to rights and wanted very much to be any place but where he was at the moment. “Very well. When Miss Palmer left her condo in the middle of the night and didn’t return, I made inquiries to numerous law enforcement agencies. This morning I learned someone matching her description had been found in the wilds to the east of Albuquerque. Following up on the information given, I discovered a Mr. Kettering had retrieved his ‘sister’ and had her air-lifted to a Missoula hospital. Since I’m very familiar with the Palmer family and knew there were no sons born to Michael Palmer, I made haste to ascertain Miss Palmer was receiving adequate care and to provide any and all help she might need.” His gaze caught on mine as he repeated what he’d told me earlier. “One of the nurses advised she’d already been released to the care of Silas Kettering.”
No words were said at the agent’s explanation and I scoured the faces of the Hellion bikers to determine if there was going to be trouble of the physical kind at his words. But neither Brand nor Silo said a word or moved a muscle.
“I am here to put you into protective custody in order to prevent anyone else from trying to get to you, Michelle.” It was, I must admit, a stunning display of bravado seeing how Agent Moore had entered Silo’s house both unannounced and without any kind of legal reason to do so.
“You’re fucking arresting her?” Silo exploded, his face a mask of disbelief.
“I believe, brother, that the man is suggesting something along the lines of a witness protection arrangement,” Brand offered, his eyes never leaving the agent.
“Yes, I am,” Agent Moore agreed. “And I will personally oversee her case to insure that she’s kept safe.”
“We’ve already got that goddamn covered,” Silo spat out. With his warm hand underneath mine, I could feel him shaking with anger. “So you can high-tail your fancy fucking ass right back to Albuquerque and get right the hell back to what-the-fuck-ever it is you do.”
“Is that what you want, Miss Palmer?” I turned my face back to Agent Moore at his question and considered what he was offering. But I already knew what I wanted, knew exactly what or rather who made me feel the most protected.
“Yes. I’m staying here with Silo,” I murmured and pointed my eyes back to the big, burly man I’d named. I watched as the anger seemed to leave him and the color of his irises went from a deep, stormy gray to their normal soft, hazy blue. “He’ll make sure I’m safe.”
“Betcha ass, princess,” Silo whispered as he leaned down and kissed my forehead again.
“I believe you have your answer, Agent Moore,” Brand intoned, his deep voice firm yet dismissive.
“Miss Palmer. Michelle. Are you sure? I have more resources available and almost an army of other agents who can provide better protection for you than some erstwhile motorcycle club.” Which was exactly the wrong thing for the agent to say especially with two members of said club standing with him in the room of the house one of them owned. Both bikers shot to their full height and took a step towards the agent.
I reached out and snagged the sleeve of Silo’s t-shirt to attempt to hold him back, a move I already knew was pointless. But it seemed to work in halting the big man’s progression. I didn’t even bother to look at the much smaller man as I spoke. “Completely sure, Agent Moore. While I appreciate your concern, I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“I’ll be in touch,” the agent breathed as he carefully stepped around Brand and headed towards the door. “You have my number…”
“And I’ll call you if there’s a need,” I said, but my mind had already dismissed the bureaucrat. However I felt the need to give him a warning. “Although, you probably shouldn’t just waltz in next time.”
Both bikers seemed to agree as they nodded at the last of my words.
As soon as Moore cleared the doorway, Silo turned back to me, his large hand covering my fingers, which were still entwined in his sleeve. “You can let go now, Shell. I ain’t gonna pound on him as much as I fucking want to.”
“But I will follow him to make sure he has exited,” Brand advised as he too left the room, his big boots echoing down the short carpeted hallway.
Silo maneuvered around the bed and pulled the only chair away from underneath the window until it was right up next to my bed. Easing his big bulk down, he released the rail until it folded with a creak as he reached for my hand. “Will it hurt if I hold it?”
His eyes were back to soft and I saw he seemed to be searching my face.
“No, Si,” I murmured, feeling my heart do a double-thump at his concern. I inched my palm into his and gently entwined our fingers together.
Our eyes caught and held as the silence stretched between us.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“Believing in me. Believing that I and the Hellions can take care of you.”
I couldn’t help the chuckle that erupted. “Dear god, Silo. Was there ever any doubt?”
He dropped his eyes to where our hands lay on the blanket. “Yeah, Shell. Don’t know what you’ve been through and don’t know who did it. But sure as fuck know they ain’t gonna get a second chance at getting to you.” There was something, a certain tone that his voice held that made me think he had just expressed a vow, a promise.
“And just how’re you gonna do that, big guy?” I tried to keep my voice light, teasing, but I knew it was a question that came from the depths of the deep, dark fear that was still with me.
His eyes came back to mine as a smile grew over his face, causing a pleasant jolt in some pleasurable spots. “Not sure yet, but when I do I’ll let you know.”
That was good enough for me and I let him know it with a smile of my own.
“But you need to tell me, baby.”
“Tell you?”
He nodded as if to give emphasis to his words. “I need to fucking know who’s after you and why. Why were you found wandering along a fire road, Shell? How’d you end up there?”
The smile slid from my face as fast as my gaze disengaged from his. “I ca-can’t…” I stammered, before trying to swallow through the dryness of my mouth and throat. “It’s to-too soon…”
My trembling voice wound down and I snuck a peek at him only to find his face was set in the scowl position. “Okay.” But h
is tone let me know that it really wasn’t okay with him. “Doc says you need to get with a shrink to sort your shit out, though.”
The bottom of my stomach dropped at his words. A psychiatrist? “No!” The word slipped out of my mouth without volition and echoed within the confines of the room.
Dropping my hand, Silo stood, unfolding to his full height as he speared me with a stern, narrow-eyed look. A look that plainly took exception to me not wanting to discuss what had led me to call him, and my refusal to see a professional. “Got shit to do,” he rumbled in his motorcycle-pipes voice. “I’ll be back later.”
And I stayed right where I was, shaking underneath the covers, as I watched him walk away.
*.*.*.*.*
David Moore let himself into the cheap motel room and turned on the light. He allowed his gaze to sweep over the cheap, fiberboard furniture and nylon carpet only barely noting the nautical theme the land-locked room was decorated in.
It was all he could afford at that moment.
At least until he got the information he needed to secure his ‘finder’s fee’. A cool million that could be invested and earn interest which, when combined with Michelle’s assets, would find the two of them living the high life.
The life he deserved.
A life he’d always known he’d been destined to have.
With the woman of his dreams providing the cachet and entrance into the sphere other men only fantasized about having access to.
He stripped off his Pierre Cardin tie before carefully hanging his made-to-measure Armani suit jacket on one of the wire hangers in the closet, after carefully draping washcloths over it to ensure the shoulder pads remained straight. Moving to the low dresser, he struggled with the cufflinks that adorned his knock-off Givenchy dress shirt and toeing off his Forzieri shoes that had cost him three paychecks, even getting behind on his rent in order to be able to afford them.
Glancing at his Wal-Mart duffle, he frowned. It was an eyesore and one that he hoped to replace with something that reflected the man he was inside.
A Civilian for Silo Page 5