Tell It Like It Is

by Stanalei Fletcher

  Kane and Phillip wore identical expressions of shock. Phillip spoke first. “Rosalee, what is going on?”

  Shelby stepped beside Rosalee. “Don’t say any more.”

  Rosalee studied Shelby with narrowed eyes. “Are you making a demand?”

  She was trying to balance her undercover role as an assistant with her true role as a bodyguard. Bodyguard won. “Yes, I am.” She moistened her lips and stepped closer. “I may have overstepped my bounds, but I won’t apologize.”

  Rosalee steepled her fingers. “Even if it means your job?”

  “That didn’t last long,” Mansfield chimed in, watching the exchange play out.

  Rosalee shot Mansfield a look that silenced him.

  Shelby was glad all the other guests had left as an uneasy mood settled over the group. The tension was at odds with the cheery music still playing through the speakers. Shelby hated to carry a gun, but almost wished for one to put a bullet through the sound system.

  Agent Kane was the one to speak next. “Aunt Rosalee. What happened in New York?” His voice carried an edge as he looked at his aunt, then at Shelby as though blaming her for keeping the information from him.

  “Yes, Rosie. Tell us,” Mansfield said with a sly expression, indicating he knew more than the author’s own family. “What did happen in New York?”

  Shelby glared at the old man. “How do you know about New York?”

  Mansfield gave a snide smile. “I’m not the only one who has friends in low places, miss mouse.” He looked at the shocked faces of Phillip and agent Kane. “I see it was a well-kept secret.”

  Kane stepped toward his aunt. “Perhaps we should have this family discussion with you and Shelby, after all your guests leave.”

  Something foreign rose inside Shelby at Kane’s implied inclusion as part of their family.

  “Manny is family.” Rosalee leveled her gaze at each person. “He was Father’s best friend during the war.”

  “Too true.” Mansfield nodded. “Of course, Phillip wasn’t born yet, and you were too young to understand the heartbreak your dear mother and sister suffered when Jim was killed. God rest all their souls.”

  With a sinking feeling, Shelby realized how entrenched Mansfield was in the family history. She hadn’t yet read far enough into Rosalee’s files to know the details of her childhood, but she knew the author was very young when her father died. After everyone left tonight, Shelby intended to finish that file she’d been given on Rosalee’s background.

  Mansfield addressed the group. “At least those lazy authorities have been forced to act.” He gave a sideways glance at Kane.

  Shelby winced at the barb directed at the FBI agent.

  “Now, see here.” Phillip pulled himself up and faced Mansfield. “You have no right to level accusations against my son.”

  The sound of a rattling tea tray drew everyone’s attention. Marta set the tray in the center of the table.

  “Thank you, Marta.” Rosalee gave a quiet sigh as though glad of the interruption from the tension that had built in the past few moments. “I’ll pour.”

  Marta glanced around the gathering with wide eyes, as though sensing the strained atmosphere. “Very well, Mees Rosalee. But if you need me…”

  “We’ll be fine,” Rosalee assured her. “Please turn off the music, though.”

  Marta hesitated, then nodded, and returned to the kitchen.

  Rosalee lifted the teapot. “Nelson?”

  “I’ll pass.” Kane raised his palm. “I could use something stronger.”

  “I’m sure you could.” His aunt gave a small laugh and eased back in her chair. She looked at Mansfield. “See what you’ve stirred up?”

  “It’s not me,” Mansfield replied. “It’s your damned book.”

  The sound system went silent and everyone seemed to freeze.

  Rosalee laughed again. “I do love Christmas, but hearing many of the same songs, even with different arrangements, takes away some of the enjoyment.”

  No one spoke as she poured another cup of tea. In the distance, the muffled sound of a lone foghorn echoed over the harbor.

  Rosalee eyed the gathering as though she were holding court. “Relax, all of you. It’s under control. I’ve given all the messages to Northstar Security. As we speak, they’re working with the police regarding that poor girl’s murder. The director is personally committed to finding some answers.”

  Mansfield leaned closer to the author. “Where are the results? You should have let my investigators handle this.”

  “Give it time.” Rosalee sent a quelling look in Mansfield’s direction. “It’s only been a couple of days.”

  Shelby was relieved that Rosalee hadn’t blown her cover. The swell of protectiveness remained. “Rosalee…I didn’t mean to make—”

  Rosalee waved a dismissing hand, interrupting the apology. “You call it like you see it. I admire that.” She glanced at Mansfield. “Doesn’t she remind you of someone?”

  Mansfield scowled. “Just what the world needs…two of you.”

  Shelby placed a hand on the author’s shoulder and felt a slight tremor. Rosalee was obviously more upset than she let on. She was a good actress, keeping her true emotions hidden from these men. Shelby’s respect for her went up another notch.

  “I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Kane interjected into the conversation with hard authority. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Rosalee smiled at her nephew. “I know you won’t, dear.”

  Mansfield placed a wrinkled hand on the table. “Is your autobiography so important that you must risk your life?”

  “I honestly never thought my story would cause such a stir,” Rosalee said with a half-hearted smile.

  Phillip leaned forward to look at Rosalee. “This is much more serious than you’ve led us to believe. If someone’s already been killed over this, then perhaps you should reconsider—”

  “Absolutely not.” Rosalee glared at everyone around the table in turn, daring them to disagree with her.

  “I’ve said it before.” Mansfield leaned back in his chair. “You’re making a mistake.” His gruff comment carried a hint of anxiety.

  “Manny, it’s my story. I’m telling it, regardless of what anyone else thinks.” Rosalee didn’t waver as she offered a cup of tea to her longtime friend.

  Mansfield took the saucer, put it on the table, and reached for Rosalee’s hand. “This is a danger you don’t need to face, my dear. Your family doesn’t like the risks you’re taking.”

  “It’s not open for debate,” Rosalee insisted. “Besides, I’m writing this book for my family.” Her voice broke slightly as she gazed at Phillip and Kane. “If I don’t do it now, while I’m still able to document the truth, they will never know everything.”

  “Are you writing the truth as it was, or as you want to spin it?” Mansfield asked. “Like all your other trashy bits of fiction.”

  “How dare you, Manny!” Rosalee pulled her hand from his grasp. “I would never taint the truth. You, of all people, know how important this project is to me.”

  Mansfield’s ruddy complexion turned a shade darker.

  Shelby couldn’t believe he spoke so harshly to Rosalee. Good for her to put the old reprobate in his place. Mansfield couldn’t have built his financial empire without making a few enemies, but Rosalee wasn’t telling his story. What was his problem, anyway? He acted as though her autobiography would open closet doors on his own skeletons. It was unfair to accuse her of anything but genuine integrity.

  “Surely your safety is more important than your book.” Kane spoke softly to his aunt.

  Rosalee faced her nephew. “I never took you for a coward, Nelson. I know you can’t help me finish this work, but you will not stand in my way.”

  Mansfield’s cane thumped the floor. “Do you have any idea who is making these threats? Or why?”

  Rosalee shook her head. “I can’t imagine who. Unless…”

  Shelby picked u
p on the hesitation. “Unless what?”

  “Her affair with that Mafia fella,” Mansfield said. “Quite scandalous at the time, mind you. I’m sure his associates are not happy about your tell-all.”

  Shelby glanced at the author. “Is he still alive?”

  “I don’t know.” Rosalee gave a slight shrug. “But Manny’s right. It’s possible the Mafia wants to stop my book. Exposing that man’s past may cause trouble for them.”

  “Doesn’t that worry you?” Phillip asked.

  “Not enough to stop writing my autobiography before I die.”

  Shelby’s cheeks warmed. Now that she’d gotten to know Rosalee, that rude comment during the mission briefing haunted her even more.

  “Then I guess this is my cue to leave.” Mansfield took a sip of tea and then pushed the cup and saucer aside. “I don’t want to be around when the death sentence is carried out.” He leveraged out of the chair and squared his shoulders. “Thank you, my dear, for the tea and stimulating conversation.”

  “I’ll see you to the door.” Rosalee stood as well, and walked around the table.

  Refined and gentlemanly, Mansfield offered his arm. Although his frame had to have shrunk with age, Rosalee’s head barely reached his shoulder. She walked side by side with her old friend as they left the dining room.

  Shelby glanced at Phillip, then Kane. Their resigned expressions proved there was no stopping the author. “Excuse me.” She crossed the room to keep an eye on her charge.

  Rosalee helped her old friend into his coat. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. Then, as if by magic, the chauffeur appeared and assisted Mr. Mansfield down the front steps and out into the cold December night.

  Chapter Seven

  Inside his aunt Rosalee’s foyer, the grandfather clock chimed midnight. After the evening’s events, Kane was ready for another stiff drink. He felt drained. He could only imagine how his aunt must feel, especially at her age.

  Yet, when she came into the dining room after settling with the caterers, she seemed to glow. “Well, that was some party, wasn’t it, nephew?”

  “I don’t know how you do it.” He shook his head in awe. “I’m ready to crash.” The exchange with Mansfield had made everyone uneasy, but since his departure the mood had lightened, and his aunt seemed to find a second wind.

  “Ah, but it’s the witching hour—the night has only begun.” She balanced on her tiptoes and turned in a circle, her dark-blue gown swirling around her legs.

  “Not for me it hasn’t,” Phillip Kane said as he wandered into the dining room. He caught Aunt Rosalee around the waist and waltzed her toward a chair. “If you’re going to be up at the crack of dawn to do your Chinese whatchamacallit, you’d better get to bed now.” He stopped their dance and made swooping martial arts movements with his arms.

  “Tai Chi,” Rosalee corrected him. “And put your arms down, you look silly.” She pressed his hands to his side. “I promised Shelby we’d sleep in tomorrow. We won’t need to start work until nine.”

  Kane’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Shelby does Tai Chi with you?” That explained the takedown technique she’d used on him earlier. It had come from martial arts training—a variation of the type he’d received at Quantico.

  His aunt sank gracefully into the chair Phillip held out for her. “She’s very good.” She picked up a napkin and fanned herself. “I’ll bet you’re not up at sunrise doing Tai Chi. Do you even practice anymore?”

  Aunt Rosalee had introduced him to the Chinese discipline, and had been practicing as long as he could remember. “I’m still up to it.” Kane shrugged. “But my physical training tends to be on the aggressive side these days.”

  Shelby’s voice came from across the room. “How’s that working for you?”

  He whirled around to see her standing in the kitchen entryway. She must have been in the other room to dismiss the extra help contracted for the party. Another grudging point in her favor—knowing she couldn’t have protected his aunt by herself tonight.

  Aunt Rosalee let go an unladylike guffaw. Kane’s father glanced over with a puzzled look. When he chanced another look at Shelby, Kane would have sworn her innocent expression was genuine.

  He walked closer. “Next time,” he muttered, squaring his shoulders. “You won’t walk away unscathed.”

  She cocked an eyebrow and her pink lips curved upward. “Name your place and time, FBI.” Confidence oozed huskily from her voice.

  He was aware of both his father and his aunt watching their exchange with great interest, but he wasn’t about to back down. He was close enough to block her from entering the dining room. “Rosalee won’t be there to save you, next time.” They’d barely said a dozen words to each other all night and already he was planning revenge. He’d never live it down if his partner discovered he’d been knocked flat by this petite woman.

  Shelby’s gaze narrowed. “Maybe it’s you she’s protecting.” She stepped around him and gave his aunt a warm smile that lit up her face. Her cool blue eyes sparkled like sunlight on the ocean. The transformation took him by surprise. On impulse, he reached for her arm. She paused at his touch, her smile faltering. He leaned in, his mouth close to her ear. “You and I have unfinished business.”

  Her head tilted, and a slightly wicked gleam, not unlike his aunt’s, filled her eyes. “We could finish it now.” Her gaze dropped to the hand on her forearm. Before Kane could react, she snaked a palm over his wrist, securing his grip against her arm. The result was a painful joint-lock that radiated from wrist to shoulder—the same shoulder she’d so effectively incapacitated earlier.

  “May I suggest additional training in the softer arts to hone your sensitivity to imminent threats?” she offered. “Brute force is so overrated.”

  It hadn’t occurred to him that she might try another takedown. Instinctively, he tried to pry free. The movement tightened the joint-lock and he was forced to take a knee to ease the pressure. Looking down he had a distracting view of very toned, very bare, very sexy legs. Even more difficult, was ignoring her enticing scent.

  He crouched lower to create slack, all the while appreciating her curves. As expected, Shelby leaned toward him. His gazed shifted to the neckline of her dress. He felt sweat bead on his forehead and forced himself to concentrate on the joint-lock, not her body.

  Just a little farther… She’d have to take a step or give up her balance. Then he’d flip her over on her back. It was a position that held quite an appeal.

  “Children,” Rosalee exclaimed.

  He glanced guiltily over at his aunt, glad she couldn’t read his mind.

  Rosalee was frowning, clearly not amused at their power play.

  Shelby drew a deep breath and released Kane’s arm, making a show of opening her palm.

  Kane stood and wiped his brow. “You’re out of your league, Northstar.” He gave a low growl. “You can’t beat me.”

  “Kane!” Rosalee clapped her hands like a schoolteacher scolding her favorite student.

  “Don’t hold your breath on that, FBI,” Shelby’s response was barely audible but laden with conviction. She ran her palms along the side of her dress, showing she wasn’t as unaffected by this latest interaction as she pretended.

  He turned and crossed the room, expecting her to join his father and aunt. Instead, she paced the room’s perimeter, checked the large picture window overlooking the front yard, then dimmed the dining room lights. Her actions seemed calculated to place as much distance as possible between them. It was a wise idea. Kane had to admit his aunt’s bodyguard impressed him. Particularly with her ability to assess and mitigate danger, even though she irritated the hell out of him.

  ****

  From the corner of her eye, Shelby watched Agent Kane move to stand next to Rosalee and take her hand in both of his. In spite of his arrogance, he obviously cared about his aunt. A moment ago, Shelby wanted to take him down a peg, but seeing his caring attitude toward the older woman, some of her antagonism drained
away, while her awareness of him ratcheted up a notch. Not a sensation she liked.

  She had no idea what possessed her to put that joint lock on Kane. It wasn’t as if she needed to prove anything. She was disciplined enough to control her actions. So why hadn’t she? The moment he’d touched her, she’d reacted in a self-defense move, but had to admit, the defense wasn’t against any physical danger.

  She stole another glimpse and tried to view Kane objectively. Regardless of those muscles straining his shirt, he was light on his feet, well-coordinated, and had restraint with his strength. It took a bit of mental juggling to push away an image of those protective arms encircling her.

  “Is the FBI taking over my case?” Rosalee looked inquiringly at her nephew.

  “Your case is a very thin file.” Kane grabbed a chair and scooted it closer to his aunt.

  That statement didn’t surprise Shelby. The FBI wouldn’t expend resources chasing threats they thought were cranks.

  Shelby couldn’t shake the feeling that something about Rosalee’s entire situation was off. If the perpetrator wanted to carry out his threats, he could have just as easily killed the author instead of the maid. All he’d accomplished was to involve the authorities more deeply.

  “And now?” Rosalee prompted as Kane settled in his chair.

  “We’ll get the police report on the murder. I’ve passed the details over to my partner, and reached out to O’Neal to let him know the FBI is activating your file. My team’s on another assignment, but we’ll assign an agent to review your case.”

  Shelby glared at Kane. This was all she needed. The FBI would want jurisdiction. Of course, Northstar would cooperate. They always did. Where would that leave her? True, she hadn’t wanted to take the time this case required, but something about the situation made her itchy. She was here now, and wanted to see the job through. Get to the bottom of the threats, and help Rosalee finish her book.

  “I owe you an apology,” Kane continued. “I should have taken these threats more seriously.”

  “Pshaw.” Rosalee waved aside his apology. “Who takes an old woman seriously these days?” She jabbed his shoulder with a finger. “Your job is important. You shouldn’t have to chase after the shadows in my life.”