Bodyguard Under the Mistletoe

by Cassie Miles

  After he fastened his holster on his hip and his hand ax on the other side, he put on fresh socks and his boots. Soon, he’d be able to afford everything new. Soon, the ransom would be his. After all he’d gone through, he damn well deserved that money.

  He sauntered out of the bedroom and walked through Silas O’Toole’s filthy house. The old man had money; he should have hired a woman to clean up this dump and cook some decent food. The only thing in the fridge was baloney and white bread.

  He stood in the kitchen doorway and stared hard at his captive. Richter had grabbed Zeke as soon as the punk walked through the front door a half hour ago. His plan had been to make the kid talk right away and get the hell out of there. But he’d been a little too aggressive with his questions, and Zeke passed out. He’d been sitting here, tied to the kitchen chair with duct tape over his mouth, while Richter changed his clothes and got ready to start his new life.

  “You’re awake,” Richter growled.

  Zeke’s eyes were scared. Blood matted the dirty blond hair on the side of his head.

  “If you tell me what I want to know,” Richter said, “I won’t have to kill you. Understand?”

  Zeke nodded.

  This was going to be easy. Richter had wasted days trying to nab Fiona Grant. When he overheard one of those bodyguards talking about the getaway car, he almost kicked himself. He hadn’t known the car was newly purchased from Zeke O’Toole when he stuffed Nicole into the trunk and drove to the meeting place. All Richter had been thinking about was following the plan he and Butch had been told over the phone.

  He’d been stupid to trust the guy who gave them those orders. At first, he’d thought it was one of the guys from the SOF, maybe even Logan himself. He was wrong. All those boys had been rounded up by the FBI.

  Then he figured it might be one of the ranch hands at the Carlisle place. One of them had been working with Logan.

  Or it could have been somebody from town.

  Or one of the sheriff’s men, even Sheriff Trainer himself.

  When he couldn’t figure it out, he settled on Fiona as his best source of information.

  Zeke was better. He knew something for sure.

  Richter ripped the duct tape off his mouth. The kid took a giant gulp of air.

  “About a week ago,” Richter said, “you sold one of your piece-of-crap cars for cash. Who bought it?”

  “If I tell you, he’ll kill me.”

  Richter took the hand ax from his belt. “I’ll do worse than kill you, Zeke.”

  The kid was almost crying. “I didn’t do nothing.”

  Richter held the sharp edge of his ax under his nose and pushed his head back. “Maybe I’ll break all your teeth. You won’t look good to the ladies without a smile.”

  Richter took a step back and buried the ax blade in the kitchen table. “And you are going to tell me.”

  “I’ll talk. Don’t hurt me.”

  And when he did, Richter wasn’t too surprised.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  While Burke and Dylan headed off to meet with Sheriff Trainer at the site where they’d found the car, Fiona and Carolyn roamed around the dining-room table, picking through bits of shifting evidence.

  Fiona scanned a map where the routes of the three kidnappers were drawn with dotted lines. Patience. Jesse had counseled patience. How long before these lines converged into a pattern? How much time did Nicole have left?

  From the kitchen, she heard Jesse talking to the kids, who were both trying to convince him and Polly that one cookie wouldn’t spoil their dinner.

  Andrea slipped into the dining room and greeted them both. Her manicured hand trembled as she touched her daughter’s shoulder. “Do you have any news about Nicole?”

  “The sheriff found the car that belonged to Zeke O’Toole,” Carolyn said. “There were a couple of blond hairs in the trunk.”

  “The trunk? Dear Lord.” Andrea sank into a chair at the table. “Anything else?”

  “Dylan and Burke went to check out the car while they look for fingerprints and trace evidence.”

  The argument in the kitchen reached a crescendo with both children shouting “please” at the top of their lungs. Andrea glanced toward the racket, then smiled at Fiona. “I’m assuming one of those voices is Abby. Is there another child with her?”

  “Mickey Miller,” Fiona said.

  “Miller? As in Nate Miller’s son?”

  “That’s right,” Carolyn said. “And you don’t need to remind me of the feud between the Carlisles and the Millers that’s been going on forever. Mickey’s mother has nothing to do with Nate. She seems like a nice woman.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me. I never understood why your father and Nate’s father hated each other so much—other than the obvious fact that Miller was a truly unpleasant individual.”

  “Nate’s the same way,” Carolyn said. “Cranky and foul-tempered. He’s on our list of suspects. In fact, his little house in Riverton was one of the first places the sheriff searched. He didn’t find a thing. Not a hair. Not a fingerprint. Nothing.”

  Because Nicole had been held in the secret room under Fiona’s barn. Trapped without sunlight. Then stuffed in the trunk of a car. Fiona suppressed a shudder. “I want to thank you again, Carolyn, for letting Belinda drop Mickey off here.”

  “It’s what Nicole would have done.”

  The two children burst into the dining room with Jesse following.

  “Mommy,” Abby said, “may we please, please, please have a cookie before dinner?”

  “Pleeeeeeze,” Mickey said.

  “Do you promise to eat all your veggies at dinner?”

  “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “One cookie apiece.” She lifted her gaze to Jesse’s face. “And you can have one, too.”

  “Last time I checked,” he said, “you weren’t my mother.”

  A good thing. Because the thoughts she had whenever he came near to her were anything but motherly. The cell phone in her pocket rang, and she answered.

  It was Belinda. Her voice was tense. “Fiona, I need to talk to you. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Dylan and Carolyn. But I can tell you.”

  Leaving the Carlisle house right now was inconvenient to say the least. And Fiona didn’t feel right about dumping the kids with Carolyn. “Can it wait until you come to pick up Mickey?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose so.” Her tone was diffident. “I’m probably making too much of this.”

  “Wait.” Fiona had a sense of urgency. As a rule, Belinda was down-to-earth, steady and stable. She wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

  “Nothing. Forget I called.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  When she disconnected the call, Jesse was watching her, patiently waiting for the piece of information that would make sense of everything else. “I need to run into town,” she said.

  “No problem,” Carolyn said. “I’ll go with you.”

  Belinda had specifically mentioned that she didn’t want to talk in front of Dylan and Carolyn. “Actually—”

  “I’ll take her,” Jesse said.

  “Whoa, there.” Fists on hips, Carolyn confronted them both. “Something’s going on here, and I refuse to be left out of the loop.”

  “As soon as I know anything,” Fiona said, “I’ll call on your cell.”

  “I want to be there.”

  Her mother gave Carolyn a hug. “Of course, you want to be there. As soon as you learned how to walk, you insisted on leading the pack. That’s why you’re a terrific CEO.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “But Fiona can handle this. She’s quite capable. And she has Jesse to protect her.” She pointed them toward the door. “Go.”

  MINUTES LATER, Jesse was behind the wheel of the Longbridge Security SUV, driving toward Riverton. “Did Belinda tell you what was bothering her?”

  “She didn’t want to talk in front of
Carolyn or Dylan.”

  He remembered how Mickey’s mother had quailed in the presence of the Carlisles. “Making a good impression on them is important to her.”

  “Understandable. Her boyfriend works at the meatpacking plant in Delta, and his livelihood pretty much depends on the Carlisle Ranch.” Though her seat belt was fastened, she reached toward him. Her fingers traced the Longbridge Security patch on his jacket. “She sounded scared.”

  He was already on high alert with adrenaline pumping through his veins. The end of their investigation was near. Like any good hunter, he sensed the nearness of his prey.

  And he didn’t like the idea of having Fiona with him at this moment, would have felt better if she’d stayed behind at the house where half a dozen guards could be watching. “We need to be careful. Stay close to me. Do as I say.”

  “I can’t imagine that Richter is going to attack me in town. Not with all these witnesses.”

  He parked on Riverton’s main street in front of the café. Though it was only a few minutes after four o’clock—too early for the dinner rush—several other cars were pulled up at the curb. It was the edge of sunset, beginning to get dark.

  Inside, the café was decorated for Christmas with red and green ribbons and plastic Santas. Jesse scanned from the booths along the wall to the countertop, counting a total of twelve customers—cowboys, teenagers and a young couple, holding hands across the tabletop.

  As soon as Belinda saw them, she led them through the kitchen into the area behind the café. The alley was bordered by a weathered fence that separated the restaurant from a two-story brick building that looked as though it had been built a hundred years ago. A row of metal garbage cans lined the wall behind the kitchen. In summer, there would have been flies and a stink. At this time of year, it was only an eyesore.

  Belinda pulled Fiona into a hug. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t know what to do.”

  Fiona comforted her, patting her shoulder and murmuring about how there was nothing to be afraid of. As Jesse watched, he marveled at Fiona’s patience with her friend’s nervous chatter. Though he was capable of waiting for hours as a hunter, he was already irritated by Belinda’s tears.

  With a visible effort, she pulled herself together. Using a napkin from the café, she swabbed at the smeared mascara under her eyes. “I heard you talking about a car that somebody had bought recently and how it had something to do with the kidnapping.”

  “That’s right,” Fiona said encouragingly.

  “Nate bought a car.” Her lips tightened. “He told me about it when we were at the Circle M. He said if I needed a car this winter, he had one for me.”

  Jesse wasn’t too impressed with this vague bit of information. “Did he mention Zeke O’Toole?”

  She shook her head. “Definitely not. I would have remembered. I just thought Nate was bragging, pumping himself up now that he’s left his little house in town and moved back to the Circle M.”

  Jesse recalled his brief search at Nate’s ranch. He should have gone deeper, but the place had been thoroughly scrutinized the day before by both the sheriff and the FBI. Those searches had taken place before Nate moved back. Before.

  “Thanks for the information,” he said to Belinda. “We’ll be sure to have somebody check it out.”

  “I’m so ashamed that I married him.” Her lip quivered. “I was young, only nineteen. But that’s no excuse.”

  Fiona patted her shoulder. “You have your own life, your own identity. Nobody judges you because of Nate.”

  “Did you see the way Dylan looked at me? Like I was dirt under his feet.”

  “He’s upset,” Fiona said.

  Jesse added, “His family has been feuding with the Millers for years.”

  “It’s not personal,” Fiona said. “He doesn’t hate you.”

  “Not yet.” Belinda sighed. “There’s something else I have to tell you. It’s about that photo on the computer. The picture of Nicole after she’d been kidnapped.”

  “What about it?” he asked.

  “She was wearing my blouse. I threw it away a couple of years ago when I left Nate, but I recognized the print. The cardigan, too. They both were mine. And that sheet hanging behind her? I had sheets that same color when I was living with Nate.”

  A surge went through Jesse. This was the information he’d been waiting for. Everything would now make sense.

  He clarified, “You threw those clothes away.”

  “I never liked the shirt. Nate bought it for me, and he must have pulled it out of the trash.” Belinda shuddered. “When I left him, he took it hard. He was watching me and Mickey all the time. Like a stalker.”

  “That’s when you moved into Fiona’s place.”

  “Living there saved my life.” She took Fiona’s hand and squeezed. “It gave me some physical distance from Nate. He stopped bothering me.”

  And Jesse knew why. With his handyman skills, Nate had constructed that secret room under the barn where he could hide out and keep an eye on Belinda and his son, watching them every minute. Like a classic stalker, he’d saved her clothing.

  And when the time came, he had a ready hiding place for Nicole.

  Though Nicole had been initially kidnapped by Richter, Nate had taken her from him. He was the third man. The man who picked up the ransom.

  While keeping a watchful eye on the two women, Jesse took a step back. “I need to make a phone call.”

  He reached Burke, who was with the sheriff, inspecting Zeke O’Toole’s car. Jesse was succinct. “Nate Miller is the kidnapper. He’s the third man.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Fiona heard the urgency in Jesse’s voice as he talked on the phone. Strategies were being planned. The kidnapping was on the verge of wrapping up.

  She turned to Belinda. “You should take off work. Go to the ranch and pick up Mickey.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “You need to be with your son.”

  Belinda chewed her lower lip. “Are we in danger?”

  It was entirely possible. No telling what Nate would do when confronted. He might go after his ex-wife and child. “It might be best if you stay at the ranch until we get there.”

  “I never should have said anything.”

  “Don’t think that. Not for a minute.” As Fiona stared into her friend’s eyes, she saw a reflection of her former self when she was timid and frightened by voices in the night. “You did the right thing, and you should be proud of yourself. Now go take care of your son.”

  As Belinda retreated into the kitchen of the café, Jesse motioned to Fiona. He closed his cell. “Burke, Dylan and the sheriff are on their way to the Circle M to arrest Nate.”

  “Do you need to be there?”

  “They’ve got it covered. They aren’t far from the Circle M. Burke is trying to set up some kind of strategy, but Dylan is dead set on charging straight ahead. Can’t say as I blame him.”

  They walked through the alley behind the café to the sidewalk. The sun dipped behind the mountains; daylight faded to a murky gray. “You were right about being patient, Jesse. All we needed was the right bit of information. Now everything makes sense.”

  “Nate called the shots. He told Richter and Butch what to do and where to go.” He frowned. “I’m still not sure why he set up such elaborate plans to arrange the meeting between Nicole and Dylan.”

  “I understand why.” The emotional component to the kidnapping was the most obvious to her. “Nate despises Dylan. He wanted his enemy to suffer the same way he suffered when Belinda left him. He’s obsessed with his hatred for the Carlisles.”

  When they rounded the corner onto Main Street, she noticed Jesse glancing left and right, still on the lookout for danger. She knew that he wouldn’t take her hand while they were walking because he needed to be ready in case of an attack.

  “I saw how crazy Nate was when we were at the Circle M,” he said. “I should have—”

  “Don’t say it.”
/>
  “What?”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” she said firmly. “Nate has been suspicious from the start. But he’s crafty, and he knows how to fly under the radar. The man built a secret room in my barn, and I didn’t even know about it.”

  “The main thing is that we’ve got him,” Jesse said. “This will be over soon.”

  Then what? After the danger passed, she would have no more need for a bodyguard. “Will you be moving on to another assignment?”

  The question hung between them—a question that should have been asked the first moment she felt herself being attracted to him. Would he leave her?

  Instead of answering, he hurried her toward the SUV.

  A crisp mountain wind tossed the ribbons on Christmas garlands wrapped around the light poles. Pedestrians in jackets and cowboy hats hurried along the sidewalk. A handful of cars and trucks with headlights lit pulled up to the four-way stop in Riverton’s version of rush hour.

  This little town hadn’t changed too much over the years, and the easygoing pace suited her just fine. She didn’t need to go faster. At this moment, she wished time would slow down or stop entirely. She didn’t want to start counting the minutes until they had to say goodbye.

  He held the passenger door open for her. She paused before slipping inside. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “Until Richter is in custody, I won’t—”

  “This isn’t about Richter. Or Nate.” She lifted her chin and looked up at him. “It’s about you and me.”

  Now would be the perfect time for him to take her in his arms and kiss her and tell her that he wanted to be with her. Instead, he nudged her toward the seat. “We need to get going. I told Burke that while we were in town, we’d look in at Nate’s old house. It’s possible that he stashed the ransom there.”

  She slid onto her seat, and he closed the door. In her more timid and depressed days, Fiona would have thought that he was rejecting her. She would have given up without a fight.

  But she knew that he cared for her. Damn it, their chemistry was undeniable. Hadn’t he told her that he wanted to make love to her? Hadn’t he said that he wanted their first night together to be special?