Vigilante Mine

by Cera Daniels

"Not to mention your weakness for tea."

  He winked and pressed an index finger over his grin.

  She smiled too, but inside, guilt writhed. Every one of Ryan's peers was a target, including the sugar cube man, with his tufted wisps of white hair glittering like silver under the ballroom chandeliers. Never had she felt so helpless in such a loaded situation. Each second ticked past with ever-present cameras, women looking to get their claws into her date's scrumptious backside, and the knowledge that somewhere nearby a serial killer was picking his next mark.

  "Security is reporting all clear so far," he said, guiding her under an archway and out of eyeball range of the more populated half of the room. "I forgot to give you something."

  "I hope it's a Taser," she said as he blocked her view of a nearby cameraman. "Mine didn't match the evening gown, and Dale won't let me near a gun."

  He chuckled. "Dangerous woman."

  Her gaze pounced on his lips, utterly captivated by the provocative slant of his mouth. Was he planning to kiss her? Here? Now? A frisson of distracting, tantalizing excitement skipped along her limbs, clenching her womb with a want, an anticipation, she couldn't afford. Too much was at stake to allow herself to be swept away by his charm, no matter how much her hormones clamored. "How am I supposed to keep watch if you're standing in the way?"

  His palms slid up her arms. "Do you have any idea how much of a temptation you are?"

  "Can't be too much. You already have a corner on the temptation market." She snapped her mouth shut around the unfiltered words as the look that had seared her since she entered the ballroom went from boiling to lava-hot.

  "Glad we're on the same page." He drew the words out, leaning into her, his lips blazing across her cheek.

  "It's just the tux."

  "I'll have to thank my tailor. And while I'm at it, whoever sold you those shoes."

  "Odd the news never mentioned a foot fetish." Her fingers worked their way under his jacket, needing to trace the bunching muscles of his abs. Under that formal attire hid taut, delicious skin with a spread of coarse, dark hair that scorched a path south.

  "I'm afraid it's become more of an Amanda fetish," Ryan murmured.

  South was a sizable erection suddenly cradled by her abs. Her lips parted on a silent gasp as memory recalled just how well he could command and conquer the desperate, wet place between her thighs. How far was his office from the ballroom? Too far. Any room with thick walls and no voyeurs would do. The wanton thoughts should have startled her back to detective mode, but she could only stand entranced as his fingers brushed a lock of hair over her ear. A tiny device snugged into place along her earlobe before he traced her cheekbone.

  Disappointment speared her chest so hard she jerked in his arms. Heat spread to her face. He'd been sneaking her a link to his security team. Oh, his interest was real enough, but the byplay had been nothing more than a pitch for the cameras. A distraction, to keep the zealot from realizing she wasn't as off the bench as it seemed. Amanda bit hard on the inside of one cheek. She'd fallen for his lusty come-on hook, line, sinker, the whole damn boat.

  "Tap once to activate the mic, again to turn it off." He brushed his thumb over her jaw. "Night's far from over and if we get separated, I want to be able to find you."

  "Who's tracking? Zach?"

  "No. They're keeping him for observation and an MRI."

  "I bet he wasn't happy about missing tonight's festivities."

  He flashed teeth. "He was a little surly when I left him behind."

  "Those poor nurses."

  His arms closed around her. Forget breathing room. Undeniable want burned in his gaze. "Shall we continue?"

  "The meet and greet?" Or the kissing?

  "Making our way to the dance floor."

  A battering-ram of regret jarred her lungs as he tucked her arm under his and artfully guided her around the cameraman. Amanda followed his lead into the fray, shoring up her defenses. If he could hold his own with media scrutiny 24-7, she could survive—literally and emotionally—one night in the limelight with the city's most notorious playboy. They crossed onto the decadent hardwood in front of the bandstand an hour later. Any other woman on his arm would have been sans lipstick long ago. He was acting, but he wasn't so deep into his usual role that he'd forgotten her stance on PDA.

  Amanda wished he had. Ryan turned her in a graceful spin and she focused on the guest list before her thighs could clamp so tight she'd be unable to dance. They'd stopped to talk to everyone, and her instincts hadn't flagged on a single face. Instead, Ryan brought out genuine, warm reactions, almost without effort. Because he cared.

  He tucked her close, spun her out, then drew her in again. "You have . . . a look."

  Amanda jerked her gaze from his broad shoulders to his lips, then up further, to curious eyes with a hint of mischief. "Everyone likes you. You have a knack for knowing exactly what to say."

  "Maybe my security team is giving me cue cards."

  "I'm on the secure line, remember? Nothing but 'all clears'."

  Ryan shrugged.

  She pursed her lips. This was the fake glasses all over again. "At least make it something I can buy."

  He ducked his head and swept her across the floor in the other direction. In seconds, he'd maneuvered them out of microphone range for the news cameras.

  "Smooth," she said against his neck.

  His lips curved along her cheek. "When my father died, I didn't have much time to get to know these people. It was easier for me to remember names when I made it personal."

  "Like the sugar cube gentleman."

  "Exactly." He shrugged. "It's just a business gimmick."

  Perhaps. But he went above and beyond memorizing facts when he asked about people's businesses, families, sick pets. She let her head fall to his chest as the baritone thrum of the jazz band mellowed. Ryan slid his hands around her waist, no room for more than a mingled breath between them. The rhythm of the dance may have slowed to a swaying crawl, but her nerve endings pitched ever higher with want.

  "You know what I think?"

  "I'm listening."

  "You're more genuine than you think you are."

  His fingertips twitched on her back. "You've known me what, three days? You don't know me well enough to—"

  "Four. It's long enough to pinpoint you as a man who cares."

  Ryan closed his eyes and swirled them in a circle to the left.

  "You care about this city, these people. You're putting your life on the line tonight to stop a killer."

  "Says the lovely police detective in my arms." He gave her a wry smile. "I'm not that noble. You give me too much credit."

  "And you don't give yourself enough."

  His feet stopped moving and he looked down, the lines of his face taut with emotion. "I don't deserve it."

  "Who does?" Amanda slid her hands around his waist. "You earn it. Every day."

  Deep brown eyes roved over her face. For the city, he could hide behind glasses. But Ryan McLelas didn't have to wear them around her. She realized she'd licked her lips when his eyes refocused. His muscles bunched under her hands. This time when he leaned she had no doubt of his intention. Ryan's lips parted as he closed the distance to hers.

  He stopped. Desire dug restless claws into her gut. No, she couldn't make do with almost-kisses tonight.

  Amanda tightened her grip and caught his eye. "This is not the time to remember what I said at the bistro."

  "It's your boss." He waved at the caller ID on the buzzing cell phone in his hand.

  "He can wait."

  One corner of his mouth quirked, but he was already escorting her off the dance floor. When he let go and she swung the device to her ear, a bevy of attractive females in dresses never found second-hand or scrounged from someone else's closet swarmed him from every direction. Amanda's instincts tingled a jealous warning. "This better be worth it, Sir."

  The line crackled. Then the mechanical, distorted voice that lived in her night
mares replied, "Depends on how much you value your life."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  "How did you get this number?" Amanda kept a calm smile on her lips as she regained line of sight on her charge through the preening wall of his fan club. No wonder Zach's desk had been riddled with painkillers. A close-and-personal bodyguard would cramp Ryan's style, but the way he left himself wide open to attack was enough to give her an ulcer.

  "You were expecting me tonight, were you not? Dale got that much right. But come now, let's not waste your remaining moments on meaningless questions."

  "What do you want?" She turned in a slow circle with her eye on both civilians and security. He had to be close to hijack the signal. If he wasn't on a phone, he could be wearing an earpiece—like the ones over half of the attendees wore. Frustration dug in.

  "An honest city. Tick tock, Detective."

  "Why did you call me?" The modulator would mean a secondary device. Maybe wires. She scoped the room again.

  "You've never been a disappointment." A short, bone-chilling laugh that robbed her of breath. "Leave this place while I feel merciful."

  Mercy? Why her? Amanda's shoulder twinged with ghost pain. Could this twisted fanatic really be Klepto? "And if I don't?"

  "Then you shall pay the price for your companion's sins." The cell phone hummed with static for a moment. "West side of the ballroom level. Rightmost door. Four minutes. Time enough to say goodbye."

  The line went dead and Amanda bumped the switch along her earlobe as she lowered the cell phone. Why would the zealot offer her an out? "Be advised. Zealot is here and he's making his move."

  The speaker in her ear clicked. "I heard," Ryan said. "Security's on it."

  She bit the inside of her cheek. He'd heard? Had she accidentally activated the mic during the call? Or had someone else seen him?

  "You sounded upset, and I can see your lieutenant from here. He wasn't on the phone."

  There. Ryan stood by the champagne fountain, entangled in flirtatious limbs, his intense brown eyes focused solely on her. Twin blades of uncertainty and desire sliced through her bloodstream. "Ryan?"

  "Come here. I need another dance."

  As soon as the words left his mouth, the gold-digger clinging to his arm tittered with pleasure and offered to let him spin her around the dance floor. Ryan kept his eyes on Amanda. "I'm spoken for, Lindsey. Perhaps Hutchinson . . . "

  Vaguely, he motioned to another wealthy bachelor while Amanda threaded chairs and tables, her floor-length gown whispering fantasies with each slide of fabric. The rekindled concern in her eyes was enough to make him wish his ears could have gleaned the other side of that damned phone call for himself.

  "Tomorrow, then." Lindsey's voice raked over his hearing. She left his side, head high, making a beeline for the poor sucker on the other side of the room.

  How about never? If Lilah despised pretending to be his black book appointment scheduler so much, why had she invited so many single women? Hutchinson tipped back the rest of his champagne and saluted Ryan with the empty glass. Another one down, too many more to dodge—though not all of them were as bloodthirsty.

  "My lovely bodyguard. You've saved me already." He took Amanda's lace-gloved hand and drew her to the dance floor.

  "Not yet, I haven't." A fine shudder rocked the woman in his arms. "He offered me mercy. Said I should leave."

  "Fits Dale's theory of an inside man. Someone you both know, giving you one last chance."

  Amanda shook her head. "If he knows me, he has to know I'd never abandon a room full of civilians."

  Ryan smoothed a thumb over the worry lines deepening her forehead. "You think he wants you to try to evacuate the building?"

  "You've got this place locked down. But the parking lot? He could pick people off." Her teeth did a tap dance on her lower lip. "Maybe he's just not sure of his aim. All of his other kills were close range, precise. He wanted me out, but also away from you."

  "Automatic weapon from on high?"

  "He used explosives at the precinct."

  Ryan tapped on his earpiece and relayed the observation over both the security line and the private channel he shared with his brothers. Jay's ETA was still too far out, and the possibility of bombs had Zach scrambling for release papers. "We'll catch him."

  "There's got to be something I'm missing." The bright blue of her eyes shifted subtly, a look Ryan recognized as her detective zone.

  He held her close, swaying as she wrestled a puzzle only she could see. The incongruous, light-hearted croon of the saxophone guided their feet, the bass line of the jazz ensemble vibrating under his toes, each beat a physical caress to his eardrums.

  "You turned down a dance with that gorgeous woman," Amanda said, the whiskey-dry tone of her voice distracted. "She's still eyeballing you like you're part of the steak course."

  He chuckled. "I don't regret turning down a dance with a piranha, sweetheart."

  Mistake. Klepto called her "sweetheart".

  Any hope that she'd been too distracted by thoughts of the zealot to miss his slip vanished when Amanda stiffened. She pressed her hand to his chest.

  "Something wrong?" he asked, his stomach in his shoes.

  The blue lightened to a gray so calculating he could almost see her analytical mind whirling like gears, fitting and clicking into place. She'd have him in seconds. Ryan did the only thing he could think to do to stall her from grabbing on to a truth he wasn't ready for her to know. He kissed her.

  "Twenty minutes, Spiritwalker," Romeo said, and Amanda broke the kiss in the same moment, moving across the floor faster than Ryan had thought possible with her shoe choice.

  Haul tail. He's about to play his hand. Ryan reached the door first. "You're going to give him what he wants."

  "I just need some fresh air." The pleading expression on her face nearly broke him.

  He gripped the door handle and his thumb slid over the latch. "I'll come with you."

  "Stop!" Her hand slammed flat against the door.

  Conversation lulled behind them and Ryan released the handle, lowering his voice even as the media sharks scented a story. "Amanda, I don't want you out there alone."

  "Look." The fingers on her other hand shook as she pointed.

  He stooped, peering through the crack between the door and the wall at her eye level. Orange, blinking lights covered a metallic box clamped to the other side of the door. Relief and hard determination gripped him at once. Bombs would distract Amanda from his alter ego. But bombs? The zealot had upped his game.

  Ryan reached backward, sliding his arm around Amanda's waist as he aligned her back to the sturdy wood of the side entrance. "Explosives it is."

  Amanda quivered but she managed a smile for the too-close cameras, breathing her next words against the knot of his tie. "He said I had four minutes to make it out the door to the west. I'm guessing it was the last one he rigged."

  "We've been hunting a shooter with a vantage point, and he's been outside on the ground level all along." A low growl churned in his throat. What was taking Jay so long? He nudged his earpiece. "Eyes on entry points, folks. We're looking for a small incendiary device halfway down the frame. Probably set to go when the doors are opened, but if anyone spots a timer, call it out." A second nudge tipped the line to his brothers even as the dreaded confirmations poured in from around the complex. No timers, but zero safe exits, both levels. From the 7th precinct, the hazardous devices department was fast to send over a team. "Zach, tell me you're nearby and feeling nothing but sunshine and roses."

  Both physically and through his ability.

  Amanda's chin rested on his chest. "He's out?"

  Ryan gave a short nod. "The minute he caught word of explosives."

  She smiled.

  "What?"

  "You're all a little overprotective, aren't you?" Amanda burrowed into his embrace. "Bomb techs are on their way. What can Zach do?"

  "This may come as a shock, but he hasn't always been security
chief for our father's brainchild." Ryan massaged the nape of her neck, helpless to prevent a glance from falling on the faint scar he'd caused. "He used to work in demolitions."

  "Two blocks." Zach's voice came through loud and clear, no trace of pain. "Can you evac?"

  Ryan sighed. "Public access points are no go's, Z. We've got a view of every door but if we block people from going outside we could risk panic. I'd rather drop to our contingency plan."

  Their father had done some remodeling during his Klepto days, creating a veritable maze of hidden passages. Very few employees knew of their existence. Taking the guests—and the media—out through one of the tunnels would mean compromising a McLelas family secret.

  "News 9 will love that," Zach said, the chafe of disgust clear.

  "The blueprints in Zach's office." Amanda rubbed her pert little nose along the side of his neck. "There are other ways out of here that aren't on public record."

  His detective had had mere minutes with the projected image that showed the hallways they'd found to date, but hours with the official prints. Unsurprised she'd noted the difference, Ryan brushed a kiss over her temple. "I'll be more impressed if you remember where they are."

  Her smile widened as she whispered two locations off-hand. "There's also one beside the kitchen. Looked like an old service entrance."

  "That one leads to a storage room. Former storage room. My assistant rigged it to look like a wine cellar."

  "That's going to be expensive," Jay griped over the line. "Shame about all that steak, too."

  Ryan resisted the urge to tell him to run faster. "As long as it's clear, we'll take everyone through there. It'll make a memorable end to tonight's event, and won't cost your department any donations in the process."

  "I don't care about the fundraiser, Ryan. I just don't want anyone hurt." Amanda kissed his jaw, but her muscles stayed rigid with tension. "Next time, trust me with the whole plan. I'll worry less."

  "You hoping to do this again soon?" Ryan winked, then let her slip out of his embrace as he turned to break the news to their guests.

  With apologies for ruined dinners and under the guise of a special unveiling for the evening, Ryan split the News 9 brigade to take both the lead and the end of the narrow evacuation route. As he'd expected, they took every liberty to record the whole spectacle like some secret Pharaoh's tomb documentary.