Texas Bodyguard

by Jean Brashear

  For whatever reason, the woman really did not like her. Maybe she had a thing for Martin and saw Annabelle as competition? Normally, Annabelle would have hastened to ease her mind, but for the moment she took a perverse pleasure in a little needling. “As I said, whatever I can do to help Martin, I want to.”

  A faint tightening of those lips had Annabelle wanting to smile again, but she resisted. “He’s very important to me, you know.”

  Narrowed eyes, then a regal lift of the head. “Of course. Come this way.”

  They headed toward a set of stairs. “Does this lead to the windowed rooms above?”

  “Yes. My office, Martin’s office and a VIP suite. I thought you’d be more comfortable waiting for him there.”

  “That’s very kind of you.” Though kindness was a stretch to attribute to this increasingly unpleasant woman.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Sean paced outside his truck as Lowe’s phone rang. When it went to voicemail, he swore at the delay required by Lowe’s message.

  At last, the beep. “Lowe, this is Sean Fitzgerald. Vanessa Porter relayed your message, but we need to talk. If you’re half the friend Annabelle believes you are, call me the second you get this. Don’t screw around—if she gets hurt, I will hunt you down, you sonofabitch.” He squeezed his phone in white-knuckled fingers. “Call me.” He rattled off his cell number and choked down the urge to hit something.

  After he disconnected, he got in his vehicle and immediately called Doc, trying not to think about his last sight of Annabelle’s face, set and still, steeled against him and the hurt he’d caused her.

  When Doc answered, he relayed what he knew, but Sean’s phone soon beeped for call waiting. When he saw it was Lowe, he switched calls immediately and didn’t waste any time on niceties. “Lowe, where are you?”

  “That doesn’t matter. You need to help Annabelle.”

  “I intend to, but I need some answers first. We should meet.”

  “I…can’t.”

  “What do you mean you can’t?” Sean’s eyes narrowed. “Are you running away? After you got Annabelle involved into this? You bastard, when I get my hands on you…”

  “You don’t know Sage, how she is.”

  “So you’d leave Annabelle at her mercy?”

  “I can’t go to jail.” He hesitated. “If you could get me immunity, I could help you.”

  “Unbelievable.” Sean choked down the urge to leap through the phone and strangle the sonofabitch. “You’re the reason she’s in this position.”

  “I never intended that. I tried to keep her away. Things have gotten out of hand, and it’s not my fault.” He was practically whining.

  “You are some piece of work, you know that?” Sean ground his teeth. “All right. I’ll talk to the DA.”

  “How soon?”

  “You expect me to leave Annabelle there while I track down the DA? Forget that. Go ahead and run. Just do this one thing for Annabelle’s sake, answer some questions about the setup there while you’re driving, you coward. Then to hell with you.” The second they were off the phone, he’d have a bulletin out for Lowe, but the clock was ticking.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I understand enough. I know that Annabelle thinks you’re the only person in the world she can trust, and you’re throwing her under the bus to save your hide.”

  A long silence. Sean waited him out. C’mon…show me Annabelle wasn’t completely wrong about you.

  A sigh. “What did you want to know?”

  Besides why I shouldn’t shoot your sorry ass? Sean forced his mind back to the operation. “Is Annabelle alone with your partner?”

  “No, our manager is at the club, too.”

  “Name?”

  “Leslie Alsobrook.”

  “So, two females. Give me a description of each one.”

  Lowe complied.

  “Anyone else on the premises?”

  “Not when I left, but by now the place will be full of staff getting ready to open.”

  Crap. “So what’s that mean, number-wise?” He cast back in his memory of being there before. “You have one DJ, a bartender and a bar-back, how many wait staff and busboys?”

  “You’ve been in before? When?”

  “Doesn’t matter. How many?” Sean snapped.

  “Six cocktail waitresses to begin the evening, four more later. Six busboys, two bouncers. Two dishwashers. Lighting and sound guy.”

  Sean shook his head. “A lot of bodies to work around. Doors open at, what, seven?”

  “Yeah.”

  It was now nearly six. “Where do you think your partner would have her?”

  “I don’t know. They were touring the club when Sage called.”

  “Take a guess.”

  “There’s a VIP room upstairs. Look, whatever you’re going to do should happen soon. Sage expects me back any minute. If I’m not there, she’ll get suspicious, and she’s paranoid at the best of times.”

  “Then call her and buy some time. Tell her you’re nearly there, that it won’t be more than ten minutes.”

  “But—”

  “I’m almost there, but I need more time to get help in place.”

  “If Sage sees them…”

  “She won’t. They’ll be staged further back. First priority, though, is to extract Annabelle from there. How can I get inside without attracting attention?” If the club were already open, it would be simpler, but no way was he leaving Annabelle there one second longer than he had to.

  “If Sage senses a cop, there’s no telling what she’ll do.”

  A possible gambit occurred to him. “What kind of deliveries would you get this time of day?”

  “What?”

  “Deliveries,” Sean barked. “So I could enter the back without anyone noticing something unusual.”

  “It’s too late for that. Alcohol and food are already onsite. Linens, too. Sage would be suspicious of any deliveries right now.”

  Crap. “Anyone there you trust? Someone who likes you and not Sage?”

  “That would be nearly everyone.”

  “Pick one.”

  “Leslie. The manager.”

  Sean searched for a parking spot, though his sense of urgency pushed him to abandon his truck and haul ass straight for the club. “Can you call her now without Sage knowing?”

  A pause. “Yeah. I have her cell. We, uh, we had a thing.”

  Oh, great. “You’re sure she’d be on your side.”

  “Yeah. She’s solid.”

  “Is she involved in the trafficking?”

  “No. She knows nothing about that. She’s a good person.”

  Like Annabelle. Someone else who could be hurt by this bastard’s use of a legitimate business to make dirty money. “Do it, then. Tell her to let me in the back and say nothing to anyone. See if she knows where Annabelle is.” Sean pulled in and cut the engine.

  “You’re not just a teacher at the Academy, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m the man who’s going to see you fry in hell if one hair on Annabelle’s head comes to harm.”

  “I—look, I never thought…”

  “You thought you and someone like Lima would just have a cozy little tea party? And speaking of Lima, what do you suppose he’ll do with Annabelle?”

  “Oh, God.” A pause. “All right. I’m coming back. I can help you.”

  “Why should I believe you? And how the hell can I trust you now?”

  “Because Annabelle’s important to me. Sounds like she’s important to you, too. You willing to turn down help? I can get you inside. You said yourself taking her out of there is critical.”

  “I can’t promise you a deal.”

  “But you’ll try?”

  “Help me get Annabelle out of there safely, and I’ll do my best.”

  This hesitation was shorter. Lowe exhaled in a gust. “All right. What do you need me to do?”
/>   “How far away are you?”

  “Close. I’ve been circling. Listen—Annabelle mentioned taking me to dinner when Sage handed her the phone. Maybe I can use that as an excuse to take her out of there.”

  Sean’s heart thumped. “You talked to her? How did she sound? Was she all right?”

  “It was a voicemail, but she sounded like Annabelle—sweet. Sincere. Said she was having a nice time looking around.”

  “Did she sound as though she was under duress?”

  “Not then.”

  Sean thought madly. “Okay. Your restaurant is only a block or so away from the club, right?”

  “Right.”

  Sean didn’t like involving civilians, and he wasn’t sure how far to trust Lowe, but the man could get inside with no questions. Sean would be right on his tail. “Okay. Call the manager first. See if she knows where Annabelle is and have her keep an eye out for me at the back door—”

  “Wait—” Lowe interrupted. “I don’t know what you look like.”

  Impatiently Sean rattled off a description. “Let me know Annabelle’s location ASAP. Then you’ll call your partner. Tell her you got her message and that you set up an early dinner at the restaurant so you can be back at Danger Zone not long after opening time.”

  “What if Sage says no?”

  “If she balks at all, that’s an answer of sorts.”

  “But then what do I do?”

  “You show yourself to be the actor you claimed to be, and you keep it calm and casual. Reassure her you’ll be there in ten minutes, then report back to me on the conversation.”

  “Got it.” Lowe clicked off.

  Sean phoned Doc. A team was on its way, and they refined plans quickly. Sean donned his earpiece while they were speaking, then checked the transmitter to be sure it was on. He’d like to wire Lowe, but he didn’t have spare equipment on him and time was too critical.

  Then he spotted Lowe driving his Jag, talking on the phone.

  “Gotta go, Doc.”

  “Be safe, Sean.”

  “Always.”

  Sean shoved his phone in his holster, checked his service weapon and yanked out the tail of his shirt to cover it, then checked the clutch piece fastened to his ankle.

  And waited impatiently to hear from the piece of garbage Annabelle thought had only her best interests at heart.

  “And this—” Sage gestured around her like a Vanna White substitute “—is a special suite for VIPs. Everything they could want—the sound from below piped in or their own music played on a state of the art system.” She strolled along one wall. “Home theater, a wet bar, catered meals, all manner of cushy seating…”

  “Very impressive,” Annabelle murmured. “Is that one-way glass?”

  “To a degree, though if the light is on up here, dancers below can see in. Some VIPs like to keep things private, but others want to be part of the scene below.”

  “Without actually having to rub elbows.”

  “Exactly.” Sage’s phone buzzed, and she held it to her ear. “You’re still not here? What’s the hold-up?” She frowned, casting an irritated glance at Annabelle. “Why don’t you ask her yourself when you get here? You’re neglecting your guest, and there are things I need to check on.” She listened again, a line forming between her brows.

  Uh-oh. Botox wearing off, Sage. “Want me to talk to him?” She extended a hand.

  Instead Sage hit the End button. “I don’t know what’s taking him so long.” She pocketed her phone and strode to the door. “Why don’t you try out the chairs and enjoy your drink while I get back to work? You don’t mind, do you?” Her expression said she couldn’t care less.

  “Of course not.” Sage wasn’t exactly scintillating company anyway.

  “Fine.” Sage was through the door in an instant.

  “What did Martin need to—”

  The door shut with a click.

  Talk to me about? she was going to ask.

  Or not. Annabelle settled into a decadently comfy chair and took a sip of the Annabelle Quinn cocktail. Then she let her head rest against the back of the chair and tried to relax.

  A few minutes later, Lowe called back. “Sage isn’t going for it. She wants me there now. I’m going in.”

  “No. You don’t have any training for this.”

  “Look, Sage is getting really agitated. Leslie says Annabelle is upstairs in the VIP room, and she’s ready to let you in. But someone’s got to keep Sage occupied if you’re going to sneak Annabelle out. That’s what you want, right? To get her out quietly?”

  “Yeah.” Damn it.

  “What? You don’t trust me?”

  “Should I?”

  Lowe’s voice went tight. “On this, yeah. I know you don’t think much of me, but Annabelle is all the family I have. I can’t leave her in there alone with Sage.”

  You were ready to do so earlier. Sean didn’t have a lot of choices, though. Hostage situations could be deadly. Surrounding the club and demanding Annabelle’s release when she was in the custody of an unbalanced woman? The odds were too dicey. If Sage was getting more agitated, waiting would only worsen the situation.

  And eyes on the inside would be invaluable.

  “Go inside, then, but keep your partner downstairs and away from Annabelle. Make sure there are others around. She’ll be less likely to do anything in sight of others. Set your phone to vibrate only, and keep this line open. Hit any key when it’s clear for me to come in behind you, but keep the line open so I can listen in—that’s your best protection until the team arrives. With luck, I’ll be in and out fast. As soon as I have Annabelle clear, I’ll text you, which should make your phone vibrate. Then you get the hell out of there. We’ll do the rest.”

  “Got it. I’m going in now.”

  Sean moved into position in the parking lot and watched Lowe enter the building.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Annabelle glanced around her, thinking of all Martin had created, how nice the people were who worked for him. Okay, not Sage—he had lousy taste in business partners—but everyone else. If this club was being used for nefarious purposes, she couldn’t see it. She so did not want to believe Martin could be a part of anything like Sean had suggested.

  Sage, on the other hand…maybe it wasn’t fair to accuse her, simply because she’d taken such a dislike to Annabelle. If Sage only knew…the only man Annabelle wanted was a smoky-eyed detective she couldn’t trust.

  Thoughts of Sean wrecked any hope for relaxation. Annabelle leaped to her feet and went to the window to watch the activities below. She would not think about Sean, not ever again if she could help it.

  Oh yeah, that’s gonna happen.

  Just then, Martin strode into view, his head swiveling to scan the premises. He headed for Leslie and spoke to her intently. Sage walked up to the two of them, clearly impatient for Martin’s attention.

  Suddenly Annabelle couldn’t wait any longer to see him. She would know as soon as she looked into Martin’s eyes.

  She’d surprise him. She crossed the room in quick steps and grabbed the door handle.

  It was locked.

  There are things going on right now, serious things. People could get killed.

  Annabelle banged on the door. “Hello?” No one else had been up here but her and Sage. She returned to the window and knocked on it, but no one looked up.

  Sage, she saw now, was up in Martin’s face, talking fast and looking furious. Martin looked both nervous and upset.

  Suddenly this spacious, beautiful room felt like a cushy prison, and she wanted out.

  Things Sean had said began to resurface. People around your buddy Martin are dying right now. He’s nervous and scared because someone he met with was murdered last night…and it’s setting off a chain reaction.

  Unease prickled between her shoulder blades. The locked door no longer seemed like a mistake, and Sage, not Martin, appeared to have the upper hand.

  You don’t have to take my w
ord regarding your so-called friend—but you do have to believe this: I want you safe, and I don’t care what I have to do to guarantee that.

  Think, Annabelle.

  Whatever Martin’s role, she could not believe he’d let her come to any harm. Surely Martin would come upstairs to get her soon, and when he did, she’d insist on leaving the premises for dinner to get him out of Sage’s sphere. Then she would start asking Martin some hard questions.

  Sean stood outside the back entrance, waiting for Lowe’s signal.

  His phone was also on vibrate for when he went inside. He put his bluetooth on mute and pitched his voice low on the mic, testing to see if the team had arrived yet. “Doc?”

  “It’s Saint, Sean. Had a holdup, but we’ll be there in ten,” said Saint. “Where are you?”

  “Back door.” Suddenly, his phone vibrated. “Got my signal, Saint. I’m going in. Have to get Annabelle out of there before everything goes sideways. I’ll signal when I’m in.”

  “Copy that. I’m closer than the rest. Be there in five.”

  Suddenly Sean heard voices in his bluetooth.

  “What do you mean, you locked her in?” Lowe demanded. “Where?”

  “I don’t believe you’re in any position to be making demands,” said a sultry voice that, from Lowe’s description, must be Sage. “Joe, tell me what you see in Martin’s car. Particularly if there are suitcases.”

  Crap. Sean backed away to hide and spoke into his mic. “Do not approach. Someone coming to back parking lot. Repeat, do not approach.”

  “Roger that.”

  A burly guy came through the back door. Sean watched him while he listened in on Lowe.

  “What the—Sage, what the hell are you doing?”

  “That’s more a question for you, I believe. Did you think I had no one watching your house? You weren’t getting a massage, Martin, you were making preparations to run.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  Sean watched the guy cast a glance into Lowe’s car, then shake his head and return to the club. Sean raced for the door as quietly as he could and stuck a foot in to stop it from closing, then stuck a small stone in place as he eased inside.

  “You’re a coward,” Sage said.