But Scout could tell the name pleased her.
Music signaled the start of the event.
The Duchess sat back. “Some of the designs are to-die-for. I already have my eye on several. Let’s enjoy the show.”
Scout had a feeling she’d just been treated to one.
* * *
Sal, who was S&J’s operation chief in Savannah, intercepted Nicco at the courthouse. “Olivia’s doctor’s appointment ended early, so I headed over here. Don’t come unglued, but Scout went to the fashion show on her own.”
As Sal filled in the details on Anderson, Nicco slammed his fist into his palm. “Anderson should have ordered her to stay home.”
“Cool it,” Sal said, his voice calm in comparison to the storm that was brewing inside Nicco. “She’s going to a society luncheon. The biggest danger there is choking on a piece of watercress.”
“The last time she was at a society event, she was shot at,” Nicco said.
Sal looked abashed. “You’re right. But the lady has a mind of her own. No one orders her to do anything.”
Nicco shot his older brother a dirty look while silently acknowledging that he was right about Scout. She wouldn’t accept anyone telling her what she could and couldn’t do. “Someone’s already tried to take her out more than once. I don’t want her out of my sight until we find whoever’s behind this.”
Sal raised a brow. “It’s like that, is it?”
“No. Yeah.” Nicco considered telling his brother to mind his own business but knew he wouldn’t get away with it. “Maybe. How am I supposed to know?” Fear and frustration turned his words into a growl. He took a breath. “Is that how it was with you and Olivia?”
“Pretty much. There were some rough times, but we made it.” Sal’s eyes darkened. Nicco figured his brother was remembering the terror he’d experienced when Olivia had been kidnapped by someone she’d thought of as a friend. “If I’d have lost her...” He shook his head, obviously unwilling to go there. “She’s everything to me. I want that for you, little brother.”
Nicco swallowed his surprise. Sal wasn’t given to voicing his feelings any more than Nicco was. For Sal to do so now was quietly moving. Embarrassed and touched, Nicco looked away.
Sal and Olivia had made something good for themselves. With their wedding less than a year behind them, they were totally in love. For the first time in his life, Nicco envied his brother.
Nicco thought of the contradictory feelings he had for Scout despite his best efforts to quell them. He admired her, respected her, liked her, even while telling himself that there could be nothing between them.
He knew she still grieved for her parents, for the lives that had been taken by violence, while he was still learning to deal with the aftermath of his last mission.
Any other time, Nicco would have been fascinated to hear his brother, the big bad Delta, talk about feelings, but at the moment all he cared about was knowing Scout was safe.
* * *
Scout left the luncheon with sore feet, a stomach that was grumbling its displeasure with the recent bland meal, and a revised opinion of the Duchess. The woman had a head on her shoulders, one that appeared good for more than simply providing a place for the two-carat diamond earrings she sported.
Scout was still annoyed at being derailed from her usual beat, but she was determined to give the story her best. Though she wasn’t a fan of ladies’ luncheons and fashion shows, she heartily approved of the cause.
Caught up in planning how she’d frame the story to highlight the plight of Savannah’s homeless, she didn’t give much attention to the rusted white pickup that was closing in fast. She tapped her brakes, the time-honored signal to tell the driver to back off. Rather than easing off, he closed the distance between the vehicles even more.
She shot the driver an annoyed look in the rearview mirror. Only a fool would try to pass on the road that narrowed as it approached a deep canyon. When she realized he intended to pass her despite the treacherous stretch, she edged to the side.
“Idiot,” she muttered under her breath. “Go ahead, then, if you’re in such an all-fired hurry, and get out of here.”
She hugged the right shoulder of the road, but the truck refused to pass. Instead, it aimed right for her. Why hadn’t she guessed his intention earlier?
Just when she thought the truck would ram her, the driver pulled sharply to the left and came alongside her, driving her into the rock face of the cliff. She started to scramble across the seat to the passenger side and found the door blocked by the embankment. She was trapped, but she wasn’t going to make it easy.
No way would she be a victim. Never again. During the carjacking that had claimed her parents’ lives, she’d cowered in the corner of the backseat. She hadn’t fought, hadn’t tried to save herself or, to her shame, her parents.
This time, she’d fight.
The driver yanked open the door and jerked her from the car, meaty hands gripping her shoulder. They smelled of cheap cologne and even cheaper beer. “Down on your knees.” He pushed her to the gravel pavement.
More frightening than his words was his unmasked face. He didn’t expect her to walk away from this. Just as the men who had murdered her parents hadn’t expected anyone to walk away. She’d worked with a sketch artist, but nothing had come of it.
The words of her sensei came back to her. Use what you have. She didn’t have a weapon, but she had her brain. She sized up the man as a good ol’ boy who didn’t regard women as anywhere near equal to men. She’d use that against him.
“Please don’t hurt me. Please.” A sob punctuated the words as she worked to sound as pitiful as possible. She kept up the pleading, all the while working her foot from her shoe. It turned out the stilettos she’d complained about were going to come in handy after all.
“Quit your begging.” He made a disgusted sound, then half turned away and pulled out his phone, murmuring a few words into it.
That was her opening. Shoe in hand, she sprang up and used the heel as she would a knife, plunging it deep into the side of his neck.
He yowled and spun to face her, dropping the knife as he clutched his neck with both hands. Blood spurted from the wound. She refused to feel guilty about inflicting the blow. She was fighting for her life.
No one’s going to save you but yourself. Another piece of counsel from the sensei at the dojo where she practiced martial arts.
She scrambled for the knife and aimed it at the assailant’s chest, her intention clear. If he came at her again, she’d use it and do so without hesitation. She didn’t relish causing him more injury, but she wasn’t about to let him kill her.
Eyes full of hate, he glared at her even as blood ran down his neck and onto his shoulder. “You’ll pay for that.” He jerked a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the wound.
She gave him a moment to staunch the flow of blood before pulling out a roll of duct tape from a tool kit she kept in her trunk and binding his wrists and ankles together. Reruns of MacGyver had given her a deep appreciation for the wonders of the silver tape.
After securing his hands and feet, she ran to his truck and punctured a tire with his own knife. For good measure, she used it on the other three tires as well. It would be a tight squeeze, but she thought she could maneuver her car from where it was wedged against the canyon wall.
“Tell whoever hired you that I don’t back down and I don’t back off.”
NINE
Nicco met Scout at the police station where she was giving a report. In spite of the fear and anger that fought for dominance inside of him, he couldn’t help being impressed with the detail she included in her description of the man.
From a friend on the force, Nicco had heard that she’d not only saved herself but had subdued and bound the attacker as well. Unfortunately, the man had freed himself b
efore the police had arrived. He must have walked away, seeing as how Scout had flattened his tires.
“Why didn’t you call me?” He was barely keeping it together. Learning that Scout had been run off the road had nearly sent him over the edge. The unintentional metaphor would have caused him to smile on another occasion; now, he was too caught up in worry.
He should have been there, would have been there if he’d had his way.
“I was a little busy trying to stay alive. Then I had to get my heart out of my throat and stuff it back in my chest,” she retorted.
“Sorry.” Nicco cupped her shoulders, studied her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes...” She drew out the word, as though unsure of its truthfulness. “No. But I will be.”
He eyed the single stiletto that dangled from her hand. “Is that the shoe?”
She shook her head. “The mate. How did you hear about it?”
“Are you kidding? A hundred-pound woman fights off an attacker using nothing but a high heel? That’s the stuff legends are made of.” He was proud of her. At the same time, he wanted to wrap her in his arms, cart her off and keep her safe from anyone who would try to harm her.
His grip on her tightened as he thought of what could have happened, what would have happened, if she hadn’t been so resourceful.
“Careful,” she said.
“Sorry.” He was mortified that his voice shook.
“I’m the one who was run off the road.” She laid her fingertips on his arm. “I’m sorry if you were worried.”
“You’re one tough lady.”
“That’s reporter-lady to you. What’re the chances they’ll pick up this creep?”
“He’s probably gone to ground. Hired help like that have a dozen places to hide out until things cool down.”
Though she kept up her usual brisk pace, her gaze stayed fixed to the sidewalk as though she was afraid to reveal how vulnerable she felt. Scout had more courage and guts than many men he’d met, but she was still a woman, vulnerable in ways that men weren’t. A quick intake of breath had him turning sharply in her direction.
“Reaction setting in?” he guessed.
Another breath. Shakier this time. “Big time.”
“You need to be home. Rest.”
She squared her shoulders against the suggestion. Against him? “What I need is to write the piece on the fashion show while it’s still fresh in my mind.”
“You’re thinking of the story? Now?” He couldn’t mask his incredulity.
“I’m thinking,” she stressed, “that I need to do my job.”
“Sorry.”
Her shoulders, stiff with resolve only a moment ago, drooped now. The defeated gesture had him wanting to wrap his arm around her, but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it.
He took her to the paper where she immediately started writing the story. He’d have preferred she work at home, but she pointed out that the office was closer and she wanted to get the story down as quickly as possible.
An hour. He’d give her an hour. No more. Then he was taking her home, whether she liked it or not. If she’d looked vulnerable earlier, she now looked fragile enough to break.
“How long?” he asked when the hour came and went.
She lifted her head long enough to throw him a challenging look. “As long as it takes.” She tapped a key. A few seconds later, the printer spat out a sheet of paper. “There. What do you think?”
Nicco read the story, nodded. “It’s good.”
“You think so?”
But he’d run out of patience. “I think it’s time you started using your head. Someone wants you to stop investigating. They want it enough to commit murder.”
* * *
Scout kept to herself on the trip to her place. It was clear that Nicco was annoyed with her. She snuck a glance at the white-knuckled grip he had on the steering wheel. Scratch annoyed. Anger emanated from him in palpable waves, even as silence stretched between them, edgy and sharp and accusing.
When they reached her house, she let herself out of the truck without waiting for him and walked to the front door.
Nicco put his hand over hers when she went to unlock the door. “Stay here. I go in first, remember?”
Flustered that she’d forgotten the drill, she nodded. A few minutes later, he gave the all-clear signal. He waited until she’d poured herself a glass of water. Wanting a reprieve from the lecture she knew was coming, she sipped slowly.
He pulled a kitchen chair from the table, turned it around, straddled it. Pointed to the chair opposite. She sat. From the set of his mouth, the reprieve was over.
She decided to go on the offensive. “Why don’t you say something? Anything?”
“You handled yourself today. But what’s going to happen when you find yourself in a situation you can’t handle?”
A dozen retorts came to her mind. She rejected all but one. “I can’t stop living my life because of some threats.”
“You’re too smart to say something that stupid.”
“Stupid? So now I’m stupid?”
Nicco slashed the air with an impatient gesture. “You know what I mean. You could have been killed today.”
And then she understood. He’d been afraid. For her.
“I’m sorry.”
Surprise, then wariness, crossed his face. “Sorry?”
“For scaring you.”
“Nothing is worth your life. Nothing. Including this investigation.”
She wanted to protest, but she didn’t want to destroy the fragile peace that hovered between them. “I’ll be more careful. I promise.”
“I don’t want you to just be careful. I want you to stay alive.”
“There are some things worth risking your life for. You had to have felt that, being a Ranger.”
“That’s—”
“Different? Is that what you were going to say? Why? Because you’re a man and I’m a woman?” With her thumb and index finger, she rubbed the space between her brows.
“No. Because that was my job.”
“This is more than my job.”
“How do you mean?”
“It’s my way of honoring my parents. They deserve to have the truth known about what happened. It’s the last thing I can do for them.”
* * *
Nicco knew he’d come down hard on Scout. What she’d been through would send many people, men and women alike, into hysterics, but she’d kept her calm and used her wits to survive.
What of next time, though? And there would be a next time. He was certain of it. Whoever wanted her silenced wasn’t going to leave it at this.
He cared what happened to her. Over and above professional interest. He’d sort that out later. Right now, he had to convince Scout to back off.
“Do you have family in another state? Aunt or uncle? Cousin?”
“My parents were both only children. Why?” A beat passed. “You want me to run. Is that it?”
“I want you to leave the investigating to me. I’ll see this through. That’s a promise.” He didn’t make promises easily, but those he made, he kept. “Being a hotshot reporter isn’t worth your life.”
“You think that’s what this is all about? My reputation? Do you know how much I want to say yes?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “But I’m not running. If I did, I’d never be able to trust myself again.”
“Sometimes running is the smart thing to do.”
“Would you? If you were me, would you cut and run?”
She had him there. “No.”
“Then why are you asking me to do it?”
He didn’t have an answer, at least not one she would accept.
“I’m scared. Right down to my toes.” That caught him by surprise.
“I know somethin
g about being afraid.”
She raised a brow. “You? You’ve never been afraid a day in your life.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I was scared plenty when I was overseas. Anyone who’s been in combat and says he wasn’t is either lying or a fool.”
“Do you dream about that time?”
“Yeah. Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat. But the dreams don’t last forever, and I start again.” Nicco cupped her shoulders. “When you’re scared, you can come to me.”
The shaking started then, followed by harsh sobs. He watched helplessly as the tears came, noisy, messy ones that tore at his heart. When she raised her head, her eyes were those of a small child who had tried her best to put up a brave front but could no longer keep up the pretense.
He stood, pulled her up and then to him, where he pressed her head against his chest. “It’s all right.” He said the words over and over until the trembling and crying gradually subsided.
She pushed away from him. “Your shirt’s all wet.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said and brought his mouth to hers.
The kiss was barely more than a brush of lips, a fleeting caress. She leaned into it. Or he thought she did. How was he supposed to know? He could only guess at her reaction. As for himself, it reached inside of him and awakened something that had lain dormant for too long.
Scout remained silent for so long that he wondered if she’d been offended by the kiss. Or maybe she was angry. He’d grown up with sisters, but he was as clueless as the next man in understanding a woman.
“That was nice.” She appeared to be testing the word on her lips. “Nice and sweet.”
Nice and sweet. No man, no Ranger, wanted his kisses to be described in such a way, but a glance at the soft expression in her eyes made him think that maybe nice and sweet weren’t so bad after all.
Involvement with a client spelled trouble, he reminded himself, as memories of Ruth intruded. She hadn’t been a client, but he had been charged with protecting her. And it had led to disaster.
He refused to put a name to what he felt for Scout. Losing his heart again would mean losing parts of himself, including his ability to make rational decisions, and he couldn’t afford that. The price was too high. Last time it had cost him both the woman he loved and his faith. If he hadn’t allowed his feelings for Ruth to cloud his judgment, she might still be alive, along with the two men from his unit.
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