Keeping Her Safe

by Myrna Mackenzie

“The money,” the guard said.

  “What the hell is going on?” the driver said.

  “Nothing. I got this guy some first-class food while he was in the slammer and he hasn’t paid me yet. That’s all,” the guard said. “But you will now, won’t you?” he said to Jason. “Because I can make your case much worse when it actually goes to trial.”

  “I don’t like this,” the driver said, his body going even stiffer.

  “Just drive. Don’t worry,” the greedy guard told him. He shifted as if he would reach out and touch Jason.

  Jason smiled. Without so much as a blink, he looped his cuffed wrists over the driver’s head and slit the man’s throat.

  “What the hell?” the guard yelled as blood poured from the driver’s throat and the van skidded wildly around on the road.

  “Better hit the brakes,” Jason suggested.

  The man’s eyes were wild, but he did as he was told. “You didn’t have to kill him. He wouldn’t have said nothin’. He didn’t know nothin’. Hell, the man has a wife and kids. What’s wrong with you?”

  The car skidded to a stop. The guard started to exit the door.

  He would tell. He would lead them to him, Jason thought. All the money in the world wouldn’t stop a terrified man from telling.

  “What’s wrong? You want to know what’s wrong with me? Try this,” Jason yelled, grabbing for the back of the man’s shirt and plunging the knife in.

  The guard let out a scream.

  “Oh yeah, you thought you could manipulate me, didn’t you?” Jason sneered as he climbed over into the front seat, heading for the open door.

  The guard was in his path and Jason elbowed him out of his way. He looked at the man who was gasping for air. Oh yeah, he loved looking into their eyes as they died, as they realized who really held the power. “You wanted to know what was wrong with me. Well, how about I’m a killer, remember?”

  The guy didn’t answer. Didn’t look. Probably dead already. Damn, he had been robbed of that last look of fear. He hated that.

  Better make sure he was really dead, stab him again if he wasn’t.

  The sound of a car approaching filled his ears. The guy was coming fast. Real fast.

  “Shit!” Jason said. He shoved the door open and slipped out of the car and into the trees. Good thing he knew a thing or two about survival. Farley had taught him.

  Good old Farley, and to hell with the rest of them. He wished they were all dead, and if he had his way—and he always did—some of them would be soon.

  Six

  “Okay, this isn’t working,” Vincent muttered to himself. He had kept watch over Natalie last night, intending to sleep today and switch shifts with Derek.

  But sleep wasn’t coming, and his plan wasn’t working. It had been all too obvious to him these past few days that his interest in Natalie was more than the interest a bodyguard had in a client. She was tough and spunky and sassy, and he saw her as a woman, and that wasn’t good. It made a man sloppy.

  He had figured that Derek would be the better choice for daytime guard. Derek had a wife whom he adored. He would be impervious to Natalie, and Vincent would take the nighttime shift when he would be less likely to run into her.

  “But the damned woman isn’t going to let me sleep, is she?” he asked, rolling out of bed and hunting for his pants. Just when sleep drew near, he would imagine her walking ahead of him, that gentle sway of her hips, or she would turn around and give him that lazy, insolent grin that dared him to call her soft. She liked being able to take care of herself. She hated having a guard, but she had been pretty good about the whole thing. She knew the necessity.

  He was the one with the problem. Right now, his problem was that, in spite of his respect for Derek, he wasn’t sure the man was up to keeping up with Natalie.

  Maybe he would just check in…

  “Stop it,” he ordered himself. “Derek is the best. He’s perfectly capable of doing everything that you would do.” And more. Derek would keep things impersonal. As they should be.

  The sound of his phone ringing ended the dilemma. Vincent picked up the receiver.

  “Vince here.”

  “Vince, it’s Daniel. We’ve got a problem.”

  Something dark and frightening swirled through Vincent’s gut. Daniel wouldn’t say that if it weren’t so. “Shoot,” he told his brother.

  “You’re going to need to increase your surveillance on Natalie. Jamison skipped.”

  Vincent’s heart began to pound. Anger surged through him. “What the hell do you mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. He somehow managed to get a knife. When he was being transported to maximum security, he slit the driver’s throat. Stabbed the other guard in the back. Ran.”

  “Where the hell did a guy like that get a knife? He’s a killer.”

  “I don’t know anything yet. The driver’s dead. The other guy’s critical. Lost a lot of blood. When he comes to—make that if he comes to and is still functional—maybe we’ll know. For now we’ve got one dead guy, one severely wounded and a knife. And Natalie is a woman Jamison has plenty of reason to hate. Vince, do what you can. Watch your back. Watch hers.”

  He’d do better than that. He was going to make sure Natalie didn’t take a breath without him knowing it.

  “It’s taken care of. Thanks, Daniel.” Vincent hung up the phone. Now to find Natalie and tell her the bad news without scaring her to death or ticking her off.

  Either way, she wasn’t going to be happy.

  Neither was he because, like it or not, smart or not, he didn’t intend to let Natalie more than an arm’s length away from him from now on.

  “You’re going to do what?” Natalie tried to breathe normally, but it was nearly impossible. She looked at Vincent and hoped that he was joking.

  “I’m moving into your apartment.”

  Deep breaths, she told herself. Take deep breaths. One. Two. Three. Her tension climbed higher. This wasn’t working. Deep breathing was a bust.

  “No,” she said, her voice coming out too wispy. Damn, she hated sounding weak. “You can’t do that. Can’t you see what problems that would cause?”

  Vincent’s jaw went rigid. His eyes were dark, darker than usual. “I don’t blame you for fighting this, Natalie. You’re an independent woman and you’ve already given up a fair amount of your freedom, but…” He hesitated.

  “But what?”

  Vincent stepped closer. “Jason Jamison has escaped from custody.”

  She took a step back as if he had tried to hit her. “How?”

  He shook his head. “The details aren’t clear yet, but he’s out, Natalie, and it looks like he’s killed again. You can’t stay alone. It wouldn’t be wise.”

  “We don’t know that it was him sending the notes.” She wished her voice didn’t sound so frightened. She took a deep breath.

  “That’s true. We don’t know much yet, but for now, let me stay. Let me do what I need to do to keep you safe.”

  His voice was deep and low and reassuring, but when she looked up into his eyes, she could see that he was worried. Maybe he thought that she would fight him on this. She wanted to. She hated Jason Jamison for being what he was, for hurting people and for making her a prisoner in her own home, but she could see the necessity of having Vincent close.

  “You’re asking me?” She studied him.

  He looked away.

  She crossed her arms. “You’re pretending to ask me, but in truth you’re telling me. You have to keep the witness alive.”

  “Damn it, Natalie, you’re more than just a witness. If you don’t value your own life, at least consider my sanity. I don’t want to be responsible for letting you get hurt.”

  “You wouldn’t be. That would be Jason who would be hurting me.”

  But his eyes were anguished. His jaw was firm. “I’m not giving you a choice. I’m sorry.”

  Natalie signed. “No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I know this isn’t a game, and I kn
ow how seriously you take your commitments. Of course you need to be close to protect me. I’ll do whatever I can to cooperate. Just give me a few minutes to make a place for you.” As if he was a new piece of furniture she was buying. For a minute, the whole concept sounded so ridiculous. Then Natalie smiled just a little.

  “What?” Vincent crossed his arms and glowered at her.

  She shrugged. “I was just thinking that finding a place to put someone as big as you will be a lot more difficult than finding a space for a new floor lamp.”

  Almost as if she had waved a magic wand, he relaxed. He smiled, and her heart did that crazy flip thing she was beginning to think of as her Vincent mode. Probably girls had been experiencing that sensation all of his life. “I’ll try not to require too much space,” he told her. “The couch will be fine.”

  “Oh no. If I get up in the middle of the night for a glass of water or because an idea hits me and I need to get at my computer, I don’t want to be stumbling across a half-naked man. I’ll move my desk out here. You take the spare room.”

  He shrugged. “It’s your place. I’ll honor your arrangements.”

  “Do you have to do this often?” she couldn’t help asking.

  “What?”

  “Move in with women?”

  Vincent grinned. “You’re my first.”

  He might have been talking about sex. What a ridiculous thought, she told herself. A man like him had no doubt had any woman he wanted.

  But she definitely didn’t want to examine that thought. “I’ll try to be gentle with you,” she said.

  “Thank you.” He gave her a mock bow. “I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as possible.”

  “No wet towels on the floor,” she lectured, trying to look stern.

  “Never.”

  “And no belching or scratching or any of those disgusting man things.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll try to contain myself. You seem to know a lot about the bad habits of some men.” His raised brow suggested that he was wondering what kind of personal experiences she had had.

  “I do. My three brothers taught me to arm-wrestle, swear with the best of them, and play a pretty mean game of rock, paper, scissors. And I can hold my own in a fight. Most men find me a bit pushy or unfeminine.”

  Vincent held up his hands palm out, begging off. “Hey, I have nothing but respect for a woman who can best me at rock, paper, scissors. And for the record, I don’t think Brad Herron found you unfeminine. He seemed to be determined to have you.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think he’s very discriminating. I’m not normally a very soft woman, Vincent. You won’t have to worry about finding any frilly undies hanging in the bathroom.”

  “Good to know,” he said, a trace of amusement in his eyes.

  “Are you mocking me, Vincent?”

  “Not a chance, Natalie. You’re a client and I would never mock a client. Besides, I respect your right to eschew frilly undies. Plain white is just fine.” Something about the husky tone of his voice made Natalie want to squirm. She had always been a plain white kind of woman, and she had never considered that remotely erotic. She didn’t want to be erotic, had hated the role she had taken on at The Ladder the other day, but just the way Vincent said plain white made her feel hot and bothered. She could imagine Vincent removing a woman’s white cotton bikinis with his teeth. She suddenly felt as if the room temperature were soaring, the air disappearing.

  “Well,” she said with an attempt at breeziness. “I’m glad we understand each other. I’ll do my best to play it safe and help you do your job. And you’ll do your best not to interfere in my daily existence. Shouldn’t be a problem at all. Piece of cake. Nothing to it.” She held out her arms in a show of nonchalance.

  Vincent tilted his head and studied her. “All right, spill it.”

  “What?”

  “Whatever’s bothering you. You hate having me here, and you’re not going to be able to hide it. I need to know why if we’re going to make this work. Is it the sex thing?”

  She felt as if she were glowing like a tomato. “The sex thing?” Her voice came out on a croak.

  “The fact that you’re a woman and I’m a man and I’m attracted to you.”

  “You are?” She hated the fact that her voice squeaked. She was not a squeaky-voice kind of woman and never had been.

  Vincent gave her one of those you’ve-got-to-be-kidding looks. “Look, you’re an attractive woman, and I’m still very much alive. You’ve got great legs and great eyes and some other pretty good parts, too. I couldn’t help but notice, but believe this. I don’t attack my clients. I’m here to protect you, not jump you.”

  Natalie’s breathing kicked up even higher. The fact that Vincent could have made hunk of the month in any women’s magazine was an issue with her. It made her aware of herself as a woman, and she didn’t like that at all. She hated feeling all feminine and helpless and gooey. But the sex thing wasn’t the main thing.

  “You’re right. I’m not used to sharing my space with an attractive, virile male, but it’s more than that.”

  He waited. She tried to think of the right words to make it very clear what she needed and didn’t need because he was right. If this had to go on for any time at all they would both be screaming if they didn’t set some ground rules.

  “As I mentioned, I grew up with three brothers and two parents who all were very protective. I was the only girl, the fragile one, the one who needed to be coddled. At least that seemed to be the general opinion of my family. If I sneezed, it was a major crisis. If a boy said something negative to me, my brothers were ready to break all his bones even if I deserved the negative comment. When I went on a date, everyone wanted a play-by-play. They were sure that someone was going to try to take advantage of me and that I wouldn’t be able to defend myself or speak up for myself. I had to sneak around a lot just to do the things that other normal girls did.”

  “So having a bodyguard is like a continuation of your childhood.” He was studying her carefully.

  “Well, you’re not related to me, and this time there is a real possible threat to me, so no, it’s not exactly the same.”

  “I sense the word but coming on.”

  Natalie nodded. “I just want you to understand that I can sometimes be a bit stubborn about certain things. I had to be to survive in my family, but I’ll try to watch myself around you.”

  “Don’t.”

  She frowned. “Don’t what? Don’t be stubborn?”

  “Don’t watch yourself around me. It’s your life. You’re the client. I’ll do my best to adapt.”

  A warm feeling slipped through Natalie. “You’re telling me you won’t restrict me?”

  “Well, I won’t set you a curfew and I won’t dictate who you date.”

  She hadn’t dated much in the past year, but there was no point in mentioning that. A girl had some pride, after all.

  “But I might interrogate your dates if I think there’s a reason to. Don’t hesitate to cuss me out if you feel like it. I’m not a brother or a father. I won’t get offended if you yell. And I’ll do my best not to underestimate you. I figure any woman who had the chance to run away after staring into Jamison’s eyes immediately after he had killed a woman and who had the guts to turn around and come back so that he wouldn’t go free is a woman who is pretty gutsy and smart.”

  Natalie was left speechless. All of her brothers and both of her parents had yelled at her for coming back to the party where she had known there was a killer waiting.

  Vincent understood. He would have done the same.

  “Thank you,” she said, the word coming out a bit choked. “I just couldn’t leave it alone.”

  He smiled. “Isn’t that the mark of a good reporter?”

  “Well, I wish you would tell that to my boss. He doesn’t believe Mrs. Morgensen’s story is anything special. I’m covering the cotton candy festival tomorrow.”

  “So you’re dropping Mrs. Morgens
en’s story?”

  “Not a chance. I’m going to nail whoever it was that took advantage of her and bilked her out of her money, even if she signed papers giving them permission to take every penny.”

  “I believe you will,” he said, and he reached out and brushed her cheek with one finger. Heat seared through her. She wanted to lean closer, have him touch more.

  Ignore that, she told herself. “Do you…need to get something? Some clothes or something?”

  “Got everything in my car. I’m ready.”

  The truth came crashing down on Natalie. Vincent Fortune was going to be moving into her already tight apartment. She was going to be living with a man, one who made her aware of herself as a woman in ways she hated to acknowledge.

  “Natalie? I’ll be back in a minute, all right?”

  She took a deep breath. “Go get your stuff. I’m ready.” As if anything could ever prepare her for the reality of living with a man like Vincent.

  Natalie was like a puppy who had been cornered and didn’t know what to expect next, Vincent couldn’t help thinking a few hours later. She jumped if he got too close. She kept eyeing him as if she expected him to do something naughty. She was working at her computer, but he didn’t hear any keys tapping.

  “Agh! This is not working,” she finally said. “I need to get out of here.”

  He put down the case files he was studying and rose to his feet.

  She grimaced. “You have to go with me, don’t you?”

  “’Fraid so, Natalie. That’s the way this works. You go places and I go with you. I do my best to fade into the woodwork.”

  “I can see you’re trying,” she said, looking at his pile of work. “I’m just not used to having a roommate.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I remember. You said you didn’t believe in marriage.”

  “No, I said marriage wasn’t for me. And for the record, that’s not a sexist thing. It’s just that in my life and line of work, I’ve seen the worst that marriage can provide, and it can be unbelievably ugly. I’m not willing to risk that route.”

  Natalie nodded. “I’m not judging. Marriage doesn’t hold any appeal for me, either.”