Targeted
Page 7
Standing, he scanned the room. A large group of men and women stood near the exit, saying their good-nights. Four men at a nearby table laughed loudly. Three servers moved among the tables, one taking orders, the other two loaded with full trays of meals.
“What is it?” Jack asked, still sitting.
Alec sank back in his chair. “Nothing.”
ALEC CLIMBED out of bed at six on Tuesday morning, nearly tripping over the black cat stretched out on the pine floor beside the bed. He gave the animal a look that would have made most academy trainees and suspects nervous, but the cat merely lifted his head enough to look at him and, squinting because of the room’s sudden brightness, yawned.
Jill had acquired the cat from one of her students, and Alec had quickly nicknamed him the Black Demon. Now, eleven months after Jill’s memorial, the cat slept in his room, oftentimes even on the bed with him. Alec tried to tell himself that he tolerated the cat merely because Jill had loved the animal, but he knew better.
He pulled on jogging shorts and a T-shirt, strapped on a pair of running shoes in preparation for his usual six-mile run out at Deep Water Springs. He did his standard fifty push-ups and twice that many crunches, then headed downstairs.
He had barely made the coffee and placed a bowl of food on the floor in front of the expectant cat when the buzzer at the front gate sounded. Checking the closed-circuit monitor on the kitchen counter and seeing a police vehicle, he pushed the button to open the wrought-iron gates.
What would bring Jack by at this time of morning? Unless he wanted to know if Alec had made arrangements for Katie. Which he had. He’d been up until two in the morning tracking down and procuring one of the top personal-protection men in the country. The man hadn’t come cheap, but he was between jobs and willing to travel on short notice.
Alec poured coffee for himself and Jack. His right index finger looped through the handles of both mugs, he answered the door.
Instead of his brother, though, Katie stood there, with Martinez right behind her.
He frowned. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“We need to talk,” she said. Not waiting for an invitation, she stepped inside.
Martinez tried to follow, but Alec caught him in the middle of his chest with an open palm. “What in the hell possessed you to bring her here of all places?”
Martinez eyes met his. Alec could see the other man’s irritation. But it was nothing compared to what he could feel in the man’s tense muscles. And nothing compared to the anger Alec was feeling at the moment.
“Look, man, she threatened to call a cab if I didn’t bring her. She found out I was going back to work and that you were making other arrangements for her.”
“So you just let her call the shots?”
“What was I supposed to do? Hog-tie her?”
“If you had to.” In spite of his words, Alec dropped his hand and, passing Martinez a cup of coffee, motioned him inside. He had planned to move Katie from Martinez’s place directly to her new quarters, but in some ways her appearance here this morning might not be a bad thing. Let the UNSUB get a look at her and begin to believe that he almost had her. Then move her beyond his reach. The UNSUB they chased wouldn’t be able to handle it. It would put him one more step closer to making a mistake.
When he turned around, Katie stood in the large central hallway facing him. Looking at her—at the silky, dark hair, at the soft mouth, at the intense, gray eyes—was almost like taking a quick jab just below the belt, the kind of blow that weakened your knees and left you fighting for a deep breath. All he could seem to think about was that the loose rugby shirt and baggy shorts concealed size five bikini panties and size 34-B breasts, and left exposed long, athletic legs.
Not exactly the observation of an uninvolved special agent. But then he wasn’t an agent anymore. He was a civilian. Which didn’t change the fact that he shouldn’t be thinking about how perfect the weight of her breasts would feel in his hands….
Trying to ignore the way his body had tightened and hoping the other occupants of the room didn’t notice, he offered Katie the remaining mug, but she only shook her head.
“Next time you need to talk, try picking up a phone.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that the police department refused to provide protection? That you were paying for it?”
“Police departments aren’t in the business of providing personal protection, Katie. Even if they wanted to, they don’t have the budgets or the manpower.” Looking down at his mug, he regretted his bluntness. She couldn’t help that she was the first woman he’d looked at since his wife’s death.
Her mouth tightened. “Thanks. But I can pay my own bills.”
“Yeah.” He took a sip of coffee, and looking over the rim, liking the show of defiance, added, “Well, we both know this one wasn’t yours to pay. It was mine.”
After several seconds, she looked away from his steady gaze. Had she realized what he was thinking? That somewhere mixed up in everything else they’d talked about these past three night, he’d found something he hadn’t expected to. A connection to her.
He was aware of Martinez watching them both. “If you’re worried about the arrangements, Katie, you needn’t be.”
“I’m not worried. I’m just tired of being consulted after they’re made. It’s my life.”
He should have seen this coming. He’d sensed her frustration with the lack of progress. He knew he shouldn’t be irritated with his brother for providing her with a computer, but he was.
Alec looked at Martinez, who still stood just inside the front door. “Maybe you should let Jack know what’s happened. The phone’s in the kitchen.” His gaze returned to Katie. “And why don’t we go into the other room?”
He showed her into his home office-den, the only room in the house he’d bothered to furnish fully. Some would say he’d traveled light when he’d left Philadelphia. Of course, some would have said he wasn’t traveling at all, but running.
She didn’t take the seat on the couch that he’d offered, instead crossed to the windows where she pulled back the heavy green drapes to look out.
He sat on the edge of his desk and, putting the mug down next to him, waited for her to speak. Listening was always the key. Even during an interrogation, listening to what was said, to what wasn’t being said, was the quickest path to answers.
They’d spoken on the phone nightly, but he hadn’t seen her in four days. She looked tired, he decided. The early morning sun revealed what the dim foyer hadn’t—the ravages of days on end filled with fear. The overload of adrenaline had left its mark in her restless movements, the fingers and eyes that never stopped moving, the tensing of shoulders and thighs and buttocks at the smallest of sounds. Battle ready, but too exhausted to be effective.
He obviously didn’t like seeing her that way, but knew nothing he said or did would be able to alter her emotional state. He moved around the desk and sat in the chair.
“I didn’t do a damn thing wrong, but I’m in prison.” She turned to him suddenly. “I seem to have fewer rights than a convicted felon. At least inmates get a few hours outside each day. Weekly visitations.”
“It’s not forever, and that’s the only way your safety can be guaranteed.”
Maybe if he gave her a few details about the arrangements, the reasons behind them, she’d start to feel more in control.
“The man I’ve hired to protect you will be here tonight. He’s good, really good. Comes from a Secret Service background and has been working in the private sector for the past five years. You’ll both stay at Martinez’s for a few days. Until I find another place and have a security system installed.”
“How long is my sentence, Alec?” She walked toward him, her arms crossed again. “How many days or weeks or months?”
“As many as it takes.”
“As many as it takes?” She offered a tight smile as she stopped in front of the desk. “That’s a glib answer, don’t you think?”
“And what would that accomplish?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “There are no real choices to make. I wish there were.”
“That’s bullshit!”
“Is it?” His frustration level was climbing. Maybe he should try a different tack. “Is there something about the arrangements that you would like to see changed?”
Her mouth flattened. “One or two.”
“Okay. Lets see if we can correct them, then.”
“For starters, I want to move in here. And I want you to be the one to protect me.”
What in the hell was she thinking? He set the cup he’d just picked up back down as he spoke. “That won’t work. It’s not safe.”
“Nowhere is safe. That’s what you said the other night. No matter where I go he will follow me.”
“You have to give us more time to catch him. The DNA results aren’t even in.”
“How many months has it been since Jill died?”
The question took him by surprise, but he answered. “Eleven months and four days.” He could have told her the hours and the minutes, too, but didn’t.
“I’ve checked the national averages. After one year, there’s a seven percent chance Jill’s killer,” she said and then pointed at her chest, “my attacker, will be apprehended. Seven percent,” she repeated. “The longer a murder goes unsolved, the less likely the killer will be caught.”
“Each time a perpetrator acts, he increases his risk of apprehension.” He let out a harsh sigh. “These things take time.”
“Time? My mother’s in a hospital in Arizona, Alec.”
“I’m sorry. How serious is it?” He came out from behind the desk and tried to touch her, to offer some form of solace, but she held up her hand to ward off his comfort.
“They expect her to be fine. But the real point is that I can’t go out there. What if you’re right? What if he follows me? I’d be leading a killer to my parents’ doorstep. I need an end to all this! To what’s happening to me right now! I don’t want to sit locked up in a house for months, hoping that a man who has remained invisible for nearly a year is suddenly captured. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life on the run, or even just looking over my shoulder, wondering if he’s out there watching me. If I hear a noise in the night, I want to be able to believe that it’s nothing to worry about.”
He started to speak, but she cut him off. “When I left Miami, I told myself that I needed a change, that I was tired of living in a large city. That new scenery would help me grow as an artist. That I wasn’t running. But I was. I allowed myself to become a victim. But not anymore.”
She closed the distance between them. “Use me, Alec. Let’s get this monster and make him pay for what he did to Jill, for what he nearly did to me.”
“You have no idea what you’re suggesting.” He turned away, but immediately turned back, and for the first time since they’d met, raised his voice. “No! I will not put you in danger!”
Straightening her already erect posture, she shoved the hair away from her temple. With carefully applied makeup concealing the bruising, the only undisguised remnants of the assault were in her haunted eyes and in the deep shadows beneath them.
“Okay.” She started to back toward the door. “If you won’t do it…”
He came after her, grabbed her before she made it to the door.
“What in the hell do you think you’re going to do?”
“I’m going to get my life back! With or without your help!”
Chapter Six
Fifteen minutes later, Katie stood at the bottom of the ornate staircase, hugging a freshly brewed mug of coffee in her unsteady fingers. Alec had said he was going up to shower and change, to retrieve whatever it was that he wanted her to see before she made her final decision. But she now heard him on an upstairs phone. Was he canceling the bodyguard?
She hadn’t left him much choice, had she? Even when she’d announced the ultimatum, she’d been worried that she wouldn’t have the guts to see it through without him. Now she wouldn’t have to find out.
She hadn’t been playing fair. He held himself responsible for making her a killer’s target, and because he did, he’d do anything to protect her. But he had no way to force her to go along with his plans for keeping her safe. He couldn’t force her to do anything, but she could force his hand. Which was what she had done—forced him into a line of action that she knew he didn’t agree with. And even though she was comfortable with her decision, she couldn’t help but wonder about the wisdom of it.
She glanced at her watch. Just before eight. It was still too early to call her father. She’d wait a few hours before checking on her mother’s condition. Her father hadn’t really understood when she’d said she couldn’t come right now, that perhaps in a few days she might be able to. She didn’t like it that she couldn’t be truthful with him about what was going on in her life. Liked it even less that he had to cope alone.
Feeling almost deflated after the confrontation with Alec, she scanned the foyer. Two chairs flanked the long chest along one wall. All looked to be expensive antiques. The rug underfoot showed wear, but also looked high-end.
Obviously, consulting work paid very well. She wondered why anyone would buy a house like this, though, and not bother to furnish the rest of it. Or why a widower would buy a place this size, at all. The absence of close neighbors maybe, she decided. And as far as the lack of furniture, maybe the consulting and Jill’s investigation kept him too busy.
Unable to remain in one place too long, Katie prowled toward the large unfurnished room just to the right of the stairs.
Though she knew they must be original to the house, the heart pine floors looked nearly new. Whoever had built the home must have used pine underfoot as a cost-saving measure because the rest of the woodwork—the high, coffered ceiling, the rich paneling, the intricate moldings of the fire surround—was done in the Victorian era’s more fashionable oak and was quite beautiful.
Hearing someone behind her as she took her first steps into the room, she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see Alec. But the doorway remained empty. And in those few seconds, the silence grew heavier, like wet earth closing over her.
“Alec?”
Nothing. She shuffled backward. The sound of her own footsteps seemed to chase her as they rattled near the ceiling.
Feeling foolish, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was losing it. If her own footsteps had her prepared to run, how was she going to get through the coming hours and days?
The answer was Alec. She’d be safe with him. Safe here in this house with the fancy alarm system and tall wrought-iron fence.
Coming here this morning had been the right decision. She wanted her life back. The fact that she was nervous and afraid was to be expected. But it was nothing she couldn’t control, was it?
Two sets of French doors allowed easy access to the deep, covered porch running along the front of the house. Stopping at the first, she looked out at the dense natural vegetation that surrounded the turn-of-the-century home. Some would undoubtedly call the location pleasantly private. But when you found yourself the target of a killer, she suspected that even the middle of a county courthouse would seem too isolated for comfort.
A glimmer of something in the palmettos—a mirror or metal—forced her to blink. In the next instant, she wondered if she’d imagined it.
“Having second thoughts?”
At the sudden sound of Alec’s smooth, even-toned voice just behind her, she bobbled the mug, and would have dropped it if his fingers hadn’t closed over hers, steady and firm and warm. Until that moment she hadn’t realized just how
frigid her own were. Or just how desperate she’d been for the touch of another human being.
She lifted her gaze, intending to thank him, intend ing to step away, but something in Alec’s rich chocolate eyes—kindness, understanding—kept her rooted to the spot.
The hair just above the collar of his dress shirt was still damp, and his handsome face was drawn in a serious expression. After days of staring at his computer-generated image, she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be in the same room with him. Some people looked pretty much the same in person as they did in photos. Alec didn’t. Photography couldn’t depict the restless energy of this man, the sense that he was always watchful and in control.
“This isn’t a good idea, you know,” he said, his gaze remaining on her face while his thumb rubbed the back of her knuckles, once, twice, before releasing his hold. He stepped away, the momentary window of his eyes once more shuttered.
“I know,” she said quietly. A bad idea in so many ways, but it was the only one she had, the only one that made any kind of sense. The only one she’d be able to live with.
He moved to the closest French door, his back to her, the early morning sun stealing beneath the porch just far enough to reach him. She sensed a level of indecision in him. As if even though he’d agreed twenty minutes ago, he still considered turning her down. She’d called his bluff. Perhaps he now considered calling hers.
And if he did, what should her response be? Since she’d played the only high card in her hand?
He ran a hand roughly through his hair. The conservative slacks and shirt only accentuated his well-toned, well-muscled body and his lean hips.
He continued to concentrate on the landscape, his fingers fiddling with the manila folder he held. Was what he wanted her to see in the file?
Should she ask to see? Or wait for him to offer?
She decided on the latter. She’d already pushed enough for one morning. “I want to thank you.” She lifted the mug to her lips, but too late realized it was empty. Feeling foolish, she studied the bottom of the cup for several seconds before looking around for a place to set it. The only available surface in the room was the deep mantel fifteen feet away. With no other choice, she held the cup loosely by the handle.