Man with the Muscle

by Julie Miller

  “Don’t encourage him. I’m the guy on the team who gets picked on.”

  “He probably wasn’t expecting us to move so fast into that…” Achy, raw, foolishly wanting to tumble back into bed and share the ultimate closeness feeling that was still reeling through her veins. “I’m sure he wasn’t expecting…that.”

  “Apparently, you weren’t, either.”

  Had she ever seen such an unreadable expression on Alex’s face? “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t.” He strode back into the bathroom and collected his jeans from the night before and a gym bag that Trip must have brought him. He tossed them onto the couch, pulled out a pair of black boxer-briefs, boldly dropped his towel and started dressing in front of her. Audrey shielded her eyes from that taut, head-to-toe physique and turned her head. “Don’t apologize for acting on what you feel. Trust your gut. Don’t over-analyze it and talk yourself out of what you want.” He shook out a crisp pair of jeans and stepped into them. Audrey lowered her hand and faced him, knowing he was looking her way. “I don’t know what the problem is that you have with us, Red—if it’s where I come from, or if you’re like Pierce and think I’m just the hired help—”

  “No.”

  “—or if you just can’t accept the idea that sometimes things happen quickly between people.” He left his jeans unfastened around his hips and crossed the room to her. “We fit, Audrey. You and me, like no other woman I’ve known before. I don’t question it. I don’t need time to weigh the whys or why nots, I just accept it.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t. I’m trusting my gut instincts. I feel something for you, you feel something for me. Why is that such a bad thing for you?”

  Audrey hugged the towel more tightly in her arms. Alex Taylor’s omniscient eyes really could see deep down inside her. No, she hadn’t been expecting the intensity of her relationship with Alex to move so quickly. She hadn’t been expecting any kind of relationship, period. She was a career woman with a life plan. Falling in love with him wasn’t supposed to be on the agenda.

  Falling in love?

  Oh, Lord. Audrey pulled up the towel to her cheeks to hide the confusion and dismay and fear that his uncanny intuition about her was right on the money.

  She did the cowardly thing and headed for the bathroom, plugging in her curling iron and retrieving her hair dryer, desperately needing to sort things out and regain some semblance of control over her life before continuing this conversation. “I have to be in court by 9:00 a.m.”

  An unexpected hand cupped the back of her neck and turned her. Alex stamped her mouth with a hard kiss and quickly released her. But those dark brown eyes ensnared her with something else. He wouldn’t let her be a coward. “You think about it, Red—because I know you like to think. You think about giving us a chance, and I’ll be with you all the way. I’ll go as fast or slow as you like. But if you decide you just can’t let yourself feel what you feel, do me the courtesy of letting me know, okay?”

  Were those tears stinging her eyes? “I don’t want to make a mistake. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I know.” He pulled the towel from her hands and dabbed at her eyes. “Maybe better than you do. But I’m worried that you’re the one who’ll really feel it if you don’t give us a chance. Just think about it.”

  Yes. She definitely needed to think. No matter what karmic wisdom Alex shared about knowing his feelings for people so quickly, this was definitely moving a little fast for her—this needing, this wanting. Her life was changing too fast for her to process. Had she missed something more than companionship developing between her father and Clarice? And it was more than a little scary to think how quickly she was losing control of the professional relationship she should be maintaining with Alex. Right now, she needed to backtrack away from this crazy passion and emotional intimacy and return to A.D.A.-bodyguard mode for a while. She pushed him out the bathroom door with a shaky smile. “Work, Alex. We both have work to do. I’ll have to deal with this—with us—later.”

  Alex’s scent only intensified in the steamy room when she closed the door. But she couldn’t be distracted by that right now. She shouldn’t remember how secure she’d felt falling asleep in his embrace or how hurt she’d been thinking that he’d left her during the night. She couldn’t think about kissing him and wanting him and feeling terrifyingly out of her comfort zone and perfectly in place each time he took her in his arms. Not right now.

  Audrey stepped into the shower, turned her face into the spray and let the pelting warmth of the water cleanse the distracting thoughts from her head. By the time she was drying her hair and putting on her makeup, she had the disturbing emotions triggered by Alex Taylor firmly under control. She was rejuvenated, reenergized and ready to take on whatever Judge Shanks, Cade Shipley and his menace-to-society client had to throw at her today.

  She was buttoning her brown cashmere blazer over its matching skirt and coming down the stairs to grab a cup of coffee and a muffin when she heard the clatter of silverware on a plate and the sounds of distress coming from her father’s office.

  “Oh, my God.”

  Her father’s voice.

  “What are they doing to her? My little girl.”

  His pinched, gasping voice turned Audrey’s walk into a run. “Daddy!”

  “Mr. Kline!” the family cook, Mrs. Puente, called.

  “Rupert? Oh, dear,” Clarice said.

  “Don’t let her see this,” Rupert demanded.

  “Daddy? Alex!” she called to the trio of men and a big German shepherd huddled in a terse conversation just inside the front door.

  Audrey dashed through the arched walnut door to find Mrs. Puente and Clarice Darnell hovering over her father in the leather chair behind his desk, trying to give him a glass of water and unbutton his shirt. Rupert Kline’s narrowed gaze landed right on her as he clutched at his chest.

  Heart attack.

  “Daddy!” Audrey dashed to his side.

  “It’s okay, missy.” He tried to smile. “Just a flutter. It’ll kick back…into rhythm…in a minute.”

  She pulled the newspaper from his fist, focusing on his face.

  “No!” Rupert wheezed.

  She ignored him and tossed it onto the desk, snapping out the orders the doctors had trained her to do. “We need to stretch him out on the floor. Mrs. Puente, get the bottle of aspirin and a blanket. Clarice, call 9-1-1.”

  “Already done.” Alex’s voice was right behind her. He and Trip blew past her and lifted her father from his chair, nudging aside Clarice, who was still trying to unhook buttons. Audrey didn’t have time to consider the implications of having the platinum blonde spending the night with her father. Alex thrust the phone into her hand. “I told Dispatch the address, you give them the details.”

  Whatever had happened between them upstairs, thank God, had been thrust aside to concentrate on her father. Alex and Trip were working like a smooth-running machine, asking her father questions and checking his pulse. Grateful for the help, Audrey turned her attention to the 9-1-1 dispatcher on the phone. “Rupert Kline. Yes, he wears a pacemaker. Dr. Trecha is his specialist.”

  Rosie Puente huddled against the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, clasping her hands together in prayer. Tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t mean to do this. I served him his egg whites and soy bacon and toast, and brought him his paper, just like I do every other morning of the week. And then he grabbed his chest. I didn’t mean—”

  “Get the aspirin, Rosie. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Audrey squeezed Mrs. Puente’s hands and gave her a slight shake. There was no blame here, she just needed action. “Go.” She turned her attention back to the dispatcher on the phone. “We’re getting him an aspirin now.”

  Three more officers, including the sergeant who’d driven the pickup away from the courthouse yesterday, appeared. The oldest man of the group—clearly the one in charge—with dark salt-and-pepper hair, spoke in hushed tones. A tall bl
ond man introduced himself to Clarice as Holden Kincaid and drew the older woman out of the room. Sergeant Delgado jogged out of the room after them, making a call on his own cell phone.

  She completed her call to the 9-1-1 operator and knelt at her father’s side next to Alex. She smoothed his silvery red hair away from the perspiration dotting his forehead. “It’ll be okay, Daddy. The ambulance is on its way.”

  “It’s just a palpitation, missy.” He tapped his chest.

  “That’s what the hardware’s for. I’ll be all right.”

  Sergeant Delgado came back in with a portable oxygen tank and mask. He handed it off to Trip. “We need to get this on you, sir.”

  “Just breathe, Daddy.” Audrey handed the phone back to Alex, and didn’t try to pretend she wasn’t grateful for the quick squeeze of her fingers before he slipped the cell into his pocket.

  She watched him press those same fingers to her father’s thigh, checking his femoral pulse. The germ of a memory, the seed of something crucial to the Smith case she’d overlooked whispered through her mind. She murmured the thought out loud. “He was shot in the leg.”

  “Red?”

  “Calvin Chambers was shot in the chest and the leg. I think I just figured out how to win the trial. Since Plan A didn’t work, and Plan B is… Never mind.” She shook off the idea and focused on the most important issue at hand. “How is he?”

  “We’ve just got basic medic training, but I don’t think it’s a full-on heart attack. Something must have given him a shock.”

  “He’s still going to the hospital,” Audrey insisted.

  “I know, Red. I want a professional to check him out, too.” Alex looked back down to her father. “Mr. Kline, can you tell me when this started?”

  Rupert seemed to be breathing a little easier with the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, but he was still alarmingly pale. “Reading that paper.” He raised up slightly and grabbed hold of Alex’s sleeve. “Don’t let them hurt her. You keep her safe.”

  “Shh. Relax, sir.” He eased her father back to the floor. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Audrey smoothed her father’s hair again and bent down to kiss his forehead, hiding her fear behind a smile. “Hang in there. Don’t worry about me—I’m all grown up, remember?”

  Rosie Puente huffed into the study, and they covered Rupert with a blanket and helped him swallow one of the aspirins. Within a matter of minutes, the real EMTs were at the house, rolling out her protesting father on a gurney, and assuring her that his heart rate was returning to normal and that the doctor would meet them at the hospital to conduct a thorough check of the patient.

  Clarice had a hold of her father’s hand and was hurrying alongside the gurney. “I’m so sorry, Rupert. Do you want to reschedule?”

  When the EMTs paused at the front door, Audrey glared Clarice away from her father and took his hand instead.

  Clarice puffed up, her expression changing from concern to self-defense. “He invited me to breakfast.”

  Her father’s fingers tightened around hers and he pulled the oxygen mask away from his face to give her a wry smile. “You’re the one who encouraged me to start dating.”

  That she had. She’d even suggested Clarice as a candidate. So her campaign to prove to her father that she was a mature adult had just taken a serious setback. Was it because she subconsciously suspected Clarice Darnell was a gold digger? She herself had worked with her on several occasions, and had observed nothing but professional results. Or had she just seen another woman taking her place at her father’s side and succumbed to a stab of jealousy? Emotions, right. She glanced over at Alex at the foot of the gurney then quickly turned away from his knowing gaze to replace the mask over Rupert’s nose and mouth. “I’m sorry, Clarice.” She straightened and faced the buxom woman. “You’re welcome to join us at the hospital.”

  “No.” Rupert snatched her hand again. “You have court this morning, and I know you just had a brainstorm that would do the Kline name proud. This trip to the hospital is just a precaution. You can come see me afterward.”

  “I’ll call Judge Shanks. He’ll understand an emergency and will grant me the delay.”

  “Absolutely not.” Rupert Kline’s killer-in-the-courtroom glare hardened his expression for a moment.

  “You have a job to do. You’re my daughter. If this is what you want, you go get them.”

  “Daddy—”

  “I’m trying to do the right thing here, missy.” Fatigue and love softened his face with a paternal smile. “They brought this battle to our home, not once, but twice now. And as much as I want to protect you…” He took the deepest breath he had in the last twenty minutes.

  “Maybe it’s time I handed over the reins and let you do your own fighting. If I was trying this case, I’d do everything in my power to make sure Smith and his thugs didn’t win.”

  He believed in her. As much as he wanted to pamper and protect her, the great Rupert Kline believed she could win this case. Humbled and inspired and deeply grateful for his confidence in her, Audrey leaned down to kiss his cheek. “I’ll get him, Daddy.”

  He winked at her before angling his gaze at Alex. “I’m counting on you, too, son. You watch her back.”

  “We need to go, ma’am,” the EMT interjected.

  Audrey nodded and stepped away. “Do you mind staying with him until I can get there, Clarice?”

  “I’ll take good care of him, hon.”

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  They were already wheeling him out the door. “Love you, too.”

  Once the ambulance pulled away, with an off-duty police escort, Alex shut and bolted the door. “What did Rupert mean, the battle has been here twice?”

  Audrey marched into her father’s office where Mrs. Puente had started to clear the tray from his desk. She thanked the cook and sent her off to the kitchen to take a break. Then Audrey went to her father’s chair and picked up the newspaper. She frowned. “This isn’t the Journal. Where did this scandal rag come from?”

  She opened it to the second-page photo of her and Alex sprawled on the sidewalk in the middle of the debris field from the exploded trash can. There was tomato on her collar and a bloody mark on her cheek. Her knees nearly buckled. Her father had seen this?

  Even more disturbing than the Attack on A.D.A. headline was the message drawn across the photo in black magic marker. He can’t save you from the inevitable, bitch! Audrey felt the same sense of violation and fear as she’d felt yesterday at the park. But she curled her toes inside her pumps and stood tall as she handed the paper across the desk. “This isn’t the first threat I’ve received.”

  Alex read the words and swore at the noose drawn around her neck. “This is Steve Lassen’s work. Damn opportunist.”

  “The picture and article are his, at least. That doesn’t mean he added the message.”

  Alex set down the paper and pushed it away as though the sight of it made him physically ill. “And you’ve gotten other crap like this? That might explain what Pike and his dog found outside.”

  A chill crept down her spine. “What’s that?”

  “A set of footprints in the slushy leaves out in your front yard forest, along with a handful of small branches that have been sliced off with some kind of knife.”

  “The groundskeeper wouldn’t trim the trees until all the leaves are gone.”

  “And he wouldn’t hack at it with a knife. Somebody’s been here, watching you. Somebody who didn’t want to be seen.” He unlocked the holster on his belt and pulled out his gun. With a series of precise movements, he dumped the magazine, slammed it into place again, checked the sights and returned it to the back of his belt as if he was expecting a gunfight. Not ill. Pissed off. Maybe too angry to feel. Alex needed to do. “The D.A. wants me here. Your father wants me here. What about you?”

  She met those unblinking dark eyes across the desk. She was ready to take action, too. “Have one of your buddies call the crime lab. See
if they can get knife marks off those branches. Hopefully, the storm hasn’t degraded the footprints too much. Dust this paper for prints. Make sure they take Clarice’s.”

  “To eliminate her as a suspect?”

  Maybe. She didn’t see how her father’s new girlfriend could possibly have a connection to Demetrius Smith, but Audrey was about facts, not taking chances. “This is a morning edition. Somebody had to bring it in here after you cleared the house last night.”

  “The Bad Boys could have cornered the paperboy and forced him to deliver it for them. They could have…waylaid him and made the delivery themselves.” Forced? Waylaid? Was he speaking from experience? “Sergeant Delgado has already called the lab. Do you know the kid’s name?”

  Audrey’s stomach turned at the idea of another innocent being harmed by the Broadway Bad Boys in their effort to get to her. “Mrs. Puente does.”

  “I’ll have Sarge talk to her and get the info.” Alex propped his hands at his waist and rephrased his question. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Take me to the courthouse.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Mac Taylor is the day shift commander of the KCPD crime lab, with twenty years of experience in the field. I think he knows what he’s talking about.” Audrey paced in front of the judge’s bench, pointing to the man on the witness stand.

  “Objection overruled. I don’t think we need to debate the experience of this witness, Mr. Shipley, so sit down.” Judge Shanks paused to take a sip of what had to be room-temp coffee by now. He might look tired, but there was no mistaking the pinpoint reprimand in his eyes.

  “But watch the sarcasm, Miss Kline.”

  Audrey thanked him with a deferential nod and turned her attention back to the forensic scientist with a scarred face, a blind eye and glasses, who’d remained completely cool and unflustered by Cade Shipley’s groundless attack on his skills and the way he ran his office. “Mr. Taylor, back to my previous question. You found no trace of GPR—gun powder residue—on the clothes the defendant, Mr. Smith, was wearing when he was arrested.”