Personal Protector

by Debra Webb

  The FBI agents, easily recognized by their trademark dark suits and sunglasses, bounded out of the car and moved in on the men still rolling around on the pavement.

  It was okay now. Piper released a long, shaky breath. You’re okay, she told herself as she drove on. Damn, that was too close. Her uncle Lucas would have a cow when he heard about this.

  She wanted to scream. She couldn’t even drive to work without someone approaching her. Of course, if there hadn’t been so much construction and such a lack of organization, she wouldn’t have been stalled in that spot long enough for the incident to occur.

  The image of the flagman who’d held up her side of the street so long, and the possibility that he’d been a part of it broadsided her.

  “Stay calm, girl,” she said aloud, reaching for any remaining inner strength she could find. But the last month had taken its toll on her ability to face this insanity. There was no way to recognize her enemy. It could be anyone. She shivered. “Don’t let them win,” she murmured fiercely, and clenched her teeth against the fear. She would not fall apart now. Later, when she was at home and alone she would let it out. But not now. She had a job to do.

  As she slowed to turn into WYBN-TV’s lot, Piper felt the rage begin to boil inside her, temporarily burning away her gripping terror. She would not let them win. She would not be a prisoner in her own home or in some safe house the way her uncle wanted.

  No one was going to take her life away from her.

  No one.

  The blistering anger fueling her shaky bravado, Piper parked in the secure parking garage beneath the station and emerged from her car. She sighed, disgusted, at the shattered window. She did love her little red sports car. Calling the insurance company and a repair shop would be the first order of business this morning. But at least she wasn’t in an ambulance on her way to the emergency room. The memory of her unknown savior filled her mind. She hoped he wasn’t hurt.

  Now, if only there was a way to keep this harrowing event from her uncle and her boss, she considered as she strode toward the stairwell and the security guard waiting there.

  But there was no point in trying to keep it a secret. One of her relentless FBI agents had likely already called in the incident to her uncle. Dave probably already knew, as well, considering the guard waiting patiently for her.

  Smiling, the man politely opened the door and then followed her in. Defeat weighed heavy on her shoulders as she climbed the stairs leading into the newsroom. Three of the reporters who had attended the doomed press conference were dead already; she and two others remained. Maybe Uncle Lucas was right. The image of that long black barrel flickered before her eyes. Maybe she should go into hiding until it was over.

  “No way,” she muttered. Piper lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “No damn way.”

  “STOP RIGHT THERE,” Piper instructed as she studied the images on the monitor. “Now go to the skyline and fade.”

  “You got it.” Ned’s nimble fingers flew over the keys and the scene ended just as Piper had envisioned it, complete with her voice-over. The story was timed and ready for broadcast.

  “Perfect.” She pushed out of her seat, satisfaction sighing through her. “Dave wants to run that package at noon today. Kind of as a teaser for tonight’s prime-time spot.”

  “I’ll get it to him ASAP.” Ned smiled up at her. “Great job, Piper. The audience is going to eat it up.”

  “Thanks.” She gave Ned an appreciative pat on the shoulder. “I’ll tell Jones you approve. I couldn’t have done it without him.”

  “Jones is definitely top-notch,” Ned agreed. “And so are you.”

  Pride welled in Piper as she strode across the WYBN-TV newsroom. Jones was the best cameraman, videographer, he would remind her, in the business. They had worked as a team since her first day as a naive but hungry reporter almost four years ago. Dave, the news director, had made a good choice when he’d teamed the two of them, and Piper would be forever grateful. No matter how hard a good reporter worked, if she and her cameraman weren’t in synch or if they simply didn’t mesh, the results could be disastrous for a fledgling media career.

  If this piece on the problems with the ever-growing local gangs garnered the attention she felt certain it would, Piper would owe Jones dinner at Ray’s. She smiled. A table at Ray’s with a view of the Chattahoochee River would be a far cry from the drive-through cuisine they usually grabbed on the run to a breaking news scene. There was never time to waste in this business. Dave’s motto was News Happens Now, and he was a firm believer in not allowing the moment to pass.

  Ringing telephones and the buzz of conversation underscored the steady hum of newsroom activity. Several twenty-four-hour news shows were currently showing on the overhead monitors. The new desk assistant raced around with his notepad delivering phone messages and instructions from the news director. Reporters shuffled papers around on their desks to find a clean space on which to write the passed-on information. Piper felt herself smiling again. This was the heart of the station. No matter what the prime-time anchor would say, or anyone in any other department, the lifeblood of WYBN flowed right here in this room with the beat reporters.

  And Piper Ryan was incredibly grateful to be a part of it. According to her agent, her recent notoriety beyond the local viewing area was the first step in moving up the ladder. Dave wouldn’t be able to keep her much longer. And she would surely miss this place. Her agent was already feeling out larger markets. But she would not go anywhere that Jones couldn’t go with her. They were a package deal. She might be Atlanta’s “sweetheart,” but Jones was the one who captured it all on film for the world to see. Dave Sullenger would just have to be prepared to lose them both.

  No two ways about it.

  “Piper!”

  Speak of the devil, Piper glanced toward the news director’s office. He waved from the open door, motioning for her to join him. They’d already had their Monday-morning staff meeting; surely nothing had changed in the last hour. She hadn’t mentioned why she’d been late, and was more than a little surprised he hadn’t questioned her. She supposed that the Feds had decided to follow their own chain of command. And she could see no point in sending Dave’s blood pressure into the red this early in the morning. He’d hear about it soon enough, she felt certain. As soon as the Feds had relayed the event to Lucas, he would call Dave and rant at him again for allowing Piper to continue working the territory.

  She pushed the thought away. She had to find Jones and head out. She had an interview set up with several families residing in Hope Place, the area currently suffering from serious gang problems. Next week it would be another block near that same area. It was an ever-evolving situation. But this time someone was trying to make a difference, trying to break that never-ending cycle.

  Thus, a serious, in-depth look into the increasing gang problems in Atlanta’s less fortunate areas had been born. Piper planned for the story to include about five segments. And hopefully, call enough official attention to the issue to get something done. In an effort to help themselves, the families in the area now hit with the most strife had formed a neighborhood watch, which was good, but they needed far more help from local law enforcement. If telling the ugly truth on the news would get the residents that attention, Piper would take it as far as she could.

  “What’s up?” Piper paused at her boss’s door and waited expectantly for whatever it was he wanted to say.

  “There’s a situation we need to discuss that I didn’t want to bring up in this morning’s staff meeting.”

  Dave looked too serious. He had that you’re-not-going-to-like-what-I’m-about-to-tell-you air about him. Tension raced up Piper’s spine. “What kind of situation?”

  “Jones had to take an emergency leave. He’ll be out of town for a couple of weeks.”

  Piper blinked, taken aback. “But I just talked to Jones last night. He didn’t mention anything to me then.”

  “He didn’t know until thi
s morning. It’s a personal family issue that he didn’t want to discuss at length. So he left for Detroit on the first available flight this morning.”

  It must have been really urgent for Jones to leave without so much as a quick call to Piper. She couldn’t remember him ever doing that before. They were more than co-workers. They were friends. “I should call and see if there’s anything I can do,” she said more to herself than to Dave.

  “I’m—I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” Dave hemmed and hawed. “Jones gave me the impression that it was a very private matter and that he would call us when he could.”

  Piper flared her hands in a gesture of bewilderment. The whole thing sounded entirely too clandestine and made absolutely no sense at all. “Well, okay, if that’s the way it has to be.”

  “In the meantime I’ve got a new cameraman for you,” Dave went on. At Piper’s distressed expression, he added, “Don’t worry. He’s only temporary until Jones gets back.”

  “I didn’t know we had any new temps.” Piper tried to stay on top of personnel changes at the station. It made life easier when you needed something in a hurry. And she was relatively certain that no new faces had appeared recently. Well, other than the desk assistant, but he’d been there a couple of weeks already. Tech support personnel were usually replaced by temps who had understudied to the point that their ability to do the job could be counted on. It was the first rule of the station’s manager.

  “I interviewed the guy just a few minutes ago,” Dave explained. “Here he is now.” The news director shifted his gaze beyond Piper. “Martinez, I’d like to introduce you to Piper Ryan.”

  Great, just what she needed, some hotshot off the street. Piper turned to greet WYBN’s newest staff member. She felt her mouth drop open the moment her gaze lit on the guy in question, but she was too stunned to snap it shut again. A tall, extraordinarily handsome man walked slowly toward her. His hair was short and raven’s-wing black. A square jaw and chiseled features lent masculinity to a face that was most accurately described by the word perfection. And then there was that body. Piper felt the air rush out of her lungs as her gaze moved over that awesome body. Broad, broad shoulders were covered in one of those black silk shirts that wasn’t tucked into his black, loose-fitting trousers, the cutting edge of fashion. The man looked as if he’d just stepped off the cover of GQ.

  He definitely did not look anything like any cameraman Piper had ever met. To make matters worse, the closer he came to her, the more convinced she grew that he knew just exactly how handsome he was, too. Confidence screamed in every move that lithe, muscular frame made. His walk, his posture, every part of him exuded blatant, cocky male attitude and a kind of smooth rhythm that made her mouth go dry. But it wasn’t until he stopped directly in front of her that Piper was certain of her assumption. It was right there in those dark, devastatingly alluring eyes that said, Close your mouth, baby, ’cause I already know just how good I look.

  This man didn’t belong behind a camera, Piper protested silently. He belonged in front of one decked out in Ralph Lauren’s latest. Either that or on MTV belting out a Latin pop song and showing off that to-die-for body and the seductive moves he could no doubt execute. But he damned sure didn’t look like a cameraman Piper wanted to drag around Atlanta for the next two weeks. And if his ego in any way compared to the attitude that emanated from every square inch of his unbelievable body, she wasn’t sure it would fit into the WYBN-TV news van.

  “Ric Martinez,” the Latin hunk said smoothly, then extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ryan.” Just a hint of south-of-the-border flavor accented his rich baritone.

  Several seconds passed before Piper had the presence of mind to place her hand in his, and when she did, she lost whatever ground she had gained. Long fingers curled around her hand, sending a shiver through her, followed immediately by a flash of heat.

  “Could you excuse me, please, Mr. Martinez?” she said abruptly, yanking her hand back with equal suddenness. Swiping her tingling palm against her hip, Piper rounded on her boss and ushered him backward into his office. She waited for the door to close behind them before she spoke.

  “You can’t be serious,” she demanded in a stage whisper.

  Dave frowned, then glanced at Martinez who waited outside the glass walls of his office. “I don’t see the problem,” he countered as his concerned gaze came back to rest on Piper’s. “Hell, he’s more than qualified. I called every single one of his references before I even interviewed him.”

  Piper immediately suppressed the ridiculous quivering her insides seemed determined to do at the mere thought of that…that…Martinez. “Look at how he’s dressed.” Piper stole a glance at the tall, handsome man waiting patiently outside the office. “He looks like he’s about to stride down a fashion runway or pick up a hot Saturday night date, but he definitely doesn’t look like a cameraman. At least not my cameraman.” Jeans and T-shirts were Jones’s favorite fashion statement.

  Dave’s brow furrowed with impatience. He hated conflict. Especially among the members of his staff, temporary or not. “You know I’ve never dictated dress unless you’re in front of the camera. So the guy’s a little flashy. What’s the big deal?”

  “Flashy?” Piper lowered her voice an octave. “He looks like…a high-priced gigolo.” A heart-stunningly good-looking one, she had to admit. She squared her shoulders, her irritation building as the possible complications related to her new cameraman piled one on top of the other in her whirling thoughts. “This isn’t going to work. Can you see me walking around Hope Place with him strutting along beside me? How will I ever get anyone’s attention? They’ll all be looking at Lover Boy as if he were the last loaf of bread on the shelf before a winter blizzard. This isn’t going to work.”

  Instantly, as if she’d said something completely hilarious, a broad grin spread over Dave’s thin face. He glanced Martinez’s way once more, then settled a knowing gaze on Piper. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid this slick guy will get more attention than you?”

  Piper seethed at his remark. She bit back the first retort that came to mind. After all, Dave was her boss. And her friend. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. You know that isn’t what I meant.”

  Dave narrowed an accusing gaze at her then. “If you think you can’t handle yourself around him…” He shrugged noncommittally. “I mean, if you think there’s some sort of unprofessional attraction that might—”

  Her drop-dead glare stopped him cold. “You don’t want to go there,” she warned. She had a contract and a high-powered agent. For that matter, she had definite seniority. She shouldn’t have to do this if she felt uncomfortable. She definitely wasn’t going to be accused of…whatever Dave had just accused her of.

  A weary breath huffed from her boss as he passed a hand over his face. “Look, it’s only for two weeks. Besides it’s out of my hands.” Dave sagged onto the arm of a nearby chair. “Martinez must be related somehow to the station manager since he instructed me to hire the guy.”

  Piper rolled her eyes. This just kept getting better and better. “Great. So I’m supposed to baby-sit the Casanova for two weeks while he learns the ropes of his long-lost relative’s business.” She threw up her hands. “That’s just perfect. It isn’t bad enough that I’ve got the Feds tailing me everywhere I go, now I have to entertain Mr. Too Sexy.” She glowered at Dave, some of her resolve crumbling as the memory of this morning’s episode nudged at her. She refused to think about it. If she let that slip back into her thoughts now she would definitely lose it. She had to be strong. “He’s just not going to work, Dave. His whole—” she searched for the right words “—persona just isn’t right, especially the attire.”

  Dave tugged at his tie. “He looks fine to me. What do you want him to wear? A three-piece suit? It’s August, for Pete’s sake.”

  Piper fell silent as the unbidden image of Martinez wearing an elegant suit filled her mind. Another wave of heat that h
ad nothing to do with anger and everything to do with sexual awareness washed over her, irritating her all the more.

  “Just try to get along with him, okay?” Dave pleaded. “I’d like to keep my job a little longer.”

  Banishing the infuriating images from her head, Piper straightened her lightweight rayon jacket and adopted the “calm in a storm” attitude for which she was known. It was only for a couple of weeks. She could deal with it. There was no point in making Dave miserable, too.

  “Fine. I’m sure he’ll do an adequate job until Jones returns,” she relented.

  “His credentials are impeccable,” Dave reiterated hopefully.

  Piper manufactured a halfhearted smile for her boss. This wasn’t his fault. As long as he made sure Jones got his job back when he returned, she would be happy. She could do anything for two weeks. “Well, we’ll just be on our way then.”

  “Piper.”

  She hesitated before turning to the door. “Yes.”

  Dave’s gaze searched hers. “I really want you to be careful out there. Martinez has been briefed on the situation, but I’m worried about you. You know it would make me feel a lot better if you stuck close to the station until this is over.”

  If he heard about this morning…

  “Who’s to say it’ll ever really be over?” she argued. “I’m not going to stop living my life or stop being who I am because some scumbag terrorist has decided to sentence me to death.” She smiled, a genuine smile this time. Dave cared and she appreciated that. They were like family here at WYBN. “Don’t worry, boss. That’s what the Feds are for. Let them worry about keeping me safe. Lord knows they’re never far away.” Of course they had been a little too far away this morning, but it wasn’t their fault.