Her Secret Bodyguard

by Misha Crews

  Blake joined him at the railing, carrying a drink in each hand. She followed his gaze out over the hills, and smiled sadly as she handed him a glass. "Iowa's never going to look quite the same, is it?"

  She'd come perilously close to voicing his thoughts out loud.

  "It most certainly isn't," he agreed. "I wish I'd come here a long time ago. And met you a lot sooner."

  Ice cubes rattled in her glass. Was her hand shaking? "Everything would have been different if you had. We wouldn't have – I mean, you wouldn't have – "

  "I'd still have fallen in love with you," he told her quietly. It was the first time he'd used the L-word in her company, and as soon as he spoke he realized that his timing was lousy. Why hadn't he said it to her before everything fell apart? But he couldn't stop himself from adding, "Regardless of when or where or why we met, I would have fallen at your feet, and you would have walked away with my heart."

  Misery covered Blake's face like a veil, but she faced him bravely, with the old, glossy smile belying the tears that hovered behind her eyes. "Well, then," she raised her drink in a toast, "here's to missed opportunities, and paths not taken."

  When Caleb refused to join in the toast, Blake clinked her glass against his, and took a long, slow swallow, her eyes fixed on his face.

  He wasn't sure what to say, but he knew he had to say something. "Blake – "

  The shrill ring of his mobile phone cut him off in mid-thought.

  "Saved by the cell," Blake said gamely. "I think I'll go freshen up my beverage. Excuse me a second."

  He watched her walk away. He was on the verge of going after her, but there was only one person besides Blake who had the number to his Blackberry, and that was Steve. Knowing that it might be important, Caleb answered the call.

  Steve sounded as tired as Caleb felt. "I just got off the phone with Lieutenant Holmes, and I thought you'd like to know that Greg Betch has finally been arrested. The Feds picked him up just as he was about to cross the border into Mexico. We can all breathe a little easier knowing he's in custody."

  "I'm sure Blake will be relieved to hear that." Caleb felt the tension ease out of his own body at the news. Then he gritted his teeth and asked the next question. "And what about Rube? Any word on how he's doing?"

  "Last I heard, he's conscious and the doctors are expecting him to regain full mobility of his arm. Blake is cleared to visit him at the hospital, but she may have to talk to somebody in the security office first. Rube has agreed to turn state's evidence against a bunch of his old cronies, and he's now a very valuable commodity. Unfortunately for him that means he'll have to go into protective custody, but he's getting off pretty light, all things considered." Steve paused. "Listen, I know that nothing about this operation went as planned, but a lot of very bad men are going to go down because of what we did. I hope it helps you to know that."

  "Thanks," Caleb said. "It does."

  "And what about you? Did I make a mistake bringing you out here?"

  Caleb thought about everything that happened. He spoke quietly. "No, it wasn't a mistake. In fact in some ways, it's been the best thing that ever happened to me." In spite of the pain, he added silently.

  "Well, I'm glad to hear it. Listen old buddy, I'm going to turn in. Give me a call tomorrow and we'll talk about getting you paid for this shindig."

  Caleb had almost forgotten that he would be getting a paycheck. "Sounds fine." Money may not buy happiness, but it would certainly be nice to have a little padding in his checking account for once.

  When Blake returned outside, he passed on Steve's message. She took the news about Greg and silently digested it. Maybe in her own mind she had already moved on from the danger. Her only reaction was to ask a question about Rube. "So should I go see him tomorrow?"

  "If you want to."

  Blake nodded but didn't give any indication about whether or not she would go. Well, Caleb supposed that that was up to her. He had no claim on her, and neither the right nor the reason to ask her what she would be doing with her tomorrows.

  He watched as she turned her back to the hills and gazed up at the house that he so admired. "Would you like to know a secret?"

  Caleb nodded. Truthfully, he wanted to know all her secrets. But he wasn't expecting to hear the words that came next.

  Blake gave a bitter chuckle. "I designed this place."

  "You what?"

  She waved her hand in a gestured that took in the full scope of the house. "This house. I designed it."

  "That's amazing!" He looked around, taking in the crisp symmetry and pleasing proportions in front of him. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. For some reason it's just not something I like to tell people. Never fit my image."

  "And now?"

  "Who knows what my image even is anymore?"

  Caleb waited. She sipped her drink and spoke again. "Rube bought this land not long after we got together. It had an older house on it, very ramshackle and broken down – pretty much un-fixable. He wanted to tear it all down and start over, and he basically put me in charge of the project. I planned the place from the ground up. I mean, it's not like I did any complex engineering or anything, although I definitely learned more than I ever wanted to know about building a house on the side of a mountain! An architect drew up the final plans, but I spent months with graph paper and a ruler and sketch pad, creating the perfect house for Rube and me. And this is it."

  "And it's incredible," he said quietly.

  "I appreciate you saying that. I never knew I could design a house before I did it." She turned tearful eyes his way. "That's what Rube did for me, you know. He made me believe that I could do anything. He made the impossible, possible."

  Caleb nodded. He didn't know what to say.

  "And now I have to give it up. The house, I mean. It's in Rube's name, and I'm sure that within a few days the IRS will be crawling all over his assets. So I have to let go of it…and I guess I have to let go of Rube, too. He has to go his way, and I have to go mine. I never would have believed that I could do that, but now I know I can."

  She set down her drink and stretched out a hand to him. He took it, surprised and hopeful. "That's what you did for me, Caleb McKenna. You woke me up, broke me out of the glass case I was living in, helped me see the world for what it is, for the first time in too long. And no matter what else, I owe you a thanks for that."

  Before he knew what was happening, she had slid her arms around his waist, and was stretching up to kiss him. He wanted that kiss, and everything that would come after, more than he'd ever wanted anything. But he couldn't continue to take advantage of her vulnerability.

  He pulled away. "Blake you don't have to – "

  "Shhh, it's all right," she whispered, stroking the side of his face. "Remember when I said that tomorrow is soon enough to start thinking about tomorrow? Right now, all we have to think about is tonight."

  "But this isn't right," he tried again, feeling his self-control slip away with each passing second.

  "It is right." Her voice was quiet, intense. "It's the only right thing in a whole big world full of not-right things. We made love for the first time only three days ago. Do you realize how much has happened in the last seventy-two hours? And I want you again, one last time, before I have to start thinking about what comes next."

  He couldn't resist any longer. Under the softness of her caresses, his aches and pains melted away, his exhaustion evaporated. They were drawn together like moths to a flame. And together, they burned.

  When Caleb woke up the next morning, he was alone in bed. His heart twisted, remembering waking up by himself in this same room only days before. But this time, he knew that Blake wasn't in the shower. Neither was she swimming in the lap pool or making coffee in the kitchen. Blake was gone, and something told him that she wasn't coming back. The very air echoed with her absence.

  Looking up through the skylight, Caleb could see that the morning was cloudy. Rain sh
owers were on the way. Well great, that suited his mood perfectly. He threw off the duvet and wandered barefoot through the empty rooms. The house already felt vacant, although its mistress had only been gone a short time.

  Caleb couldn't blame Blake for leaving. After all, she'd said her good-byes him, and to this place. There was no reason for her to stay and watch the soulless bean-counters crawl all over the home she'd loved, like carpenter ants swarming over a romantic picnic. No reason to prolong the agony of parting from her house – or from him.

  Caleb stood in the living room, with the kitchen on one side and the great stone fireplace on the other. He felt aloneness echoing through the place, echoing inside him, and he knew that it was time for him to go.

  But he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't even bring himself to take a shower, because he didn't want to wash Blake's smell off of his skin. Instead, he brewed coffee and took it out to the veranda. He settled himself into one of the deck chairs, and waited for inspiration to strike, for something to tell him what to do next. At this point, he was completely at loose ends. He had nowhere to go, nothing to do, nobody to see.

  Except Steve. He was supposed to call Steve this morning, wasn't he? He should get that done and then plan his next move.

  His fingers fumbled dialing the number, and when his friend picked up, Caleb had little to say. Steve didn't stand on formality or try to prolong the conversation. He just thanked Caleb for his help and told him he had an impressive check coming.

  But the idea of taking money for this was no longer sitting well, in spite of last night's appreciative thoughts about padding in his bank account. "I'm not sure I want it," Caleb said. He heard the querulous note in his voice, but didn't try to control it. "Not after all this. I hate to feel like I was prostituting myself. I mean, I didn't sign on to be a gigolo."

  "Fine," Steve said drily. "You don't have to cash it. But you do have to come by and pick it up. Then you have to let me take you out for a drink before you head home."

  "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to go home again. Even if I do, it won't be the same." Caleb thought about his mother, his sisters, his nieces and nephews. Blake would have fit in there. They would have loved her, and she would have loved them.

  Now Steve was beginning to sound concerned. "Come on by the office and let's talk about what you're going to do. I can easily get you some more work if you want to stay here in town. Or maybe you want to try New York or Miami for a little while. In that case, I can give you references to some places that will knock your socks off."

  "I appreciate that, but – "

  "Don't give me any 'buts' until we've had a chance to talk about this. Come by around lunch and we'll go grab a bite. Okay?"

  "Sure," Caleb said, although his conscious pricked him about making promises that he didn't intend to keep.

  When he'd managed to get Steve off the phone, he sat and stared over the mountains. He knew that he should take a shower, get dressed, pick up his check and move along. But he felt languorous, like a big lizard sunning itself on a rock. Reluctant to move or be moved.

  In the distance, the clouds began to break, parting grudgingly to reveal signs of blue sky above. The sun slanted down through the opening, casting welcome light on the hills. Finally spurred into motion, Caleb pushed himself off the chair and crossed the patio to stand at the railing. He looked at that little golden spot in the distance, at the appealing contrast of flat brown dirt and bristly green scrub brush.

  All at once, a laugh erupted out of him. It was brief but loud, and miraculously without bitterness. Because right now, at this moment, he was simultaneously in two situations that he'd never been in before: he was deeply in love, and completely unsure of what should come next in his life. In spite of all of his travels, all his adventures and narrow escapes from harm, these two conditions were completely new to him.

  He held us face up to the sky, feeling the last vestiges of rain blow across his skin. He opened his eyes. "Oh God," he laughed miserably. "What the hell am I going to do?"

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Not far away, Blake was asking herself the same thing. Battered and bruised after the violence of the past two days, she sat cushioned in a deep, soft sofa, a blanket spread over her legs and a glass of wine at her elbow. She had checked into the Beverly Hills Hotel this afternoon. Early this morning, determined to keep her word, she had gone to see Lieutenant Holmes. Mira's boyfriend Rudolpho – scratch that, Mira's fiancé – had been kind enough to refer Blake to a reputable attorney. She'd met the lawyer at the police station and had made a full statement.

  It was a relief to tell someone the whole story. For so many years, like Sergeant Shultz from the old Hogan's Heroes show, she had known nothing and said nothing. But once the words started falling from her lips, she was surprised at what she did know, and what she did say.

  Her attorney told her that she might be needed to testify at some point, but then again she might not. It all depended on how the cases were built over the next few months, and against whom.

  She'd left the police station feeling unburdened, and also undone. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wasn't going to go back to the Entwistle Ridge house. It would be too painful. She needed new scenery and a chance to clear her head. If she saw Caleb now, it would be impossible to say good-bye to him ever again. And considering her mental state, that didn't seem fair to anyone.

  "So what the hell am I going to do now?" she asked Mira, who sprawled gracefully in a deep chair across from her.

  Ever the pragmatist, Mira immediately seized on the significant question. "And why do you have to decide that now?"

  "Well I'm going to have to figure it out eventually, and I can't afford to stay here forever." Blake waved her hand to emphasize the opulence of her surroundings.

  "You could always go stay with your parents," Mira grinned.

  "They suggested the same thing when I spoke to them this morning, but I said no. I mean, I love them, I'm glad we're friendly again, but no way that's gonna happen. Not for awhile anyway."

  "So move in with me."

  "With you and Rudolpho?" Blake's eyes twinkled as she nodded at the enormous ring that Mira now sported on the third finger of her left hand.

  Mira's face lit up, wreathed in smiles, and she adjusted the ring with a look of pride. "Sure, why not? He's crazy about me, and he'll pretty much give me anything I want. So if what I want is for you to move in with us, he wouldn't dare say no."

  "I'm sure he wouldn't. And I appreciate the thought, I really do. But I need to start figuring out ways to support myself, and being a permanent houseguest is definitely not on the list."

  "Are you still interested modeling?"

  "Thanks for the compliment, babe, but I think that in model years I'm officially a senior citizen."

  "Well, it's true that you're pretty much over the hill, Grandma, but maybe you could do some sort of geriatric spread?" Mira suggested sweetly. "Seriously, girl, you know you could get work if you wanted it. You're not exactly past your prime."

  "Thanks but no thanks. That time in my life is over, and I'm ready to be done with it." She shifted restlessly, unhappiness descending once more. "I don't know, maybe I need to try a new city. Move to Chicago and work in Starbucks or something. Just live for a little while, and figure out what my next move is." She frowned. "I guess it's time for me to figure out what I want to be when I grow up."

  Mira studied her with concern. "Have you been to see Rube yet?"

  "No, I came straight here after talking to the police."

  "You should go."

  "I will." Blake tried to keep the defensive tone from her voice, but failed.

  Mira persisted. "When? Today?"

  "Soon."

  "You've been involved with that man for almost ten years, and before you know it he's going to be gone. You should give yourself a chance to say good-bye before it happens."

  "I know that," Blake said with irritation. "I told you I'
ll go soon. Don't push me." Although she was loathe to admit it, some part of Blake was afraid to go see him. He had never been sick a day in his life, and now he was in the hospital, put there by a bullet that had been meant for her. How could she possibly thank him for that?

  But Mira was right: soon Rube would be gone, whisked away into the loving arms of protective custody, and Blake needed to say her good-byes. Coward that she was, she almost preferred to think that he had just disappeared, run away to keep her safe, and that she'd never seen him again. But she had seen him, in fact he'd taken a bullet to protect her and Caleb. And he'd cared for her, so deeply and so well for so many years. She owed him a good-bye. And she owed it to herself.

  Mira was saying something, but Blake hadn't caught it, too deep in her own thoughts to hear. "What's that?" Blake asked.

  Mira repeated herself patiently. "And what about Caleb?"

  Pain stuck Blake unexpectedly as she remembered leaving him this morning, knowing that she would probably not see him again. She tried to speak, but her voice was stuck in her throat. She shook her head slowly.

  Misery descended over Mira's lovely face. "Oh, honey…."

  Blake shrugged tearfully. "What am I supposed to do?"

  "You're in love with him."

  For once, Blake didn't argue with the idea. "But I can't trust him, Mira. When I think about all that happened, all the time we spent together when he knew my life was in danger and said nothing…."

  "From what you've told me, it sounds like he was as torn up about it as you. He was in an impossible situation."

  Blake nodded. "I know that. In fact, I think I used those very words to reassure him that I wasn't angry with him."

  "But you are."

  "No, I'm not angry. My heart is broken." Her voice cracked as she said the words, and she struggled for self-control.

  Mira's eyes filled with sympathy. "So what are you going to do?"

  Blake looked at her, feeling empty and lost. "I wish I knew."