Tell It Like It Is

by Stanalei Fletcher

  Shelby crossed to the window and noted the distance between the second floor and mountainside behind the cabin was only about eight feet with winter snow. She also noted with satisfaction there was a safety bar to prevent the window from opening too far. When she tested it, she discovered it was removable. If they had to use this as an emergency exit, it just might do in a pinch. She turned and saw a door in the wall next to the wardrobe. “Where does that lead?”

  “That’s a connecting bathroom with the other room on this side of the hall.” Rosalee gave Shelby a knowing smile. “I’m sure you’d like that room.”

  Shelby returned the smile. “You’re learning.” She crossed to the door and opened it. There was a vanity and sink immediately to her left as she entered. Another doorway led to the bathtub and toilet. Beyond, was one more doorway with another vanity and sink before leading into the opposite room.

  The room was similar to Rosalee’s, with a small writing desk. The full-size bed was made of pine log. Like the guest room she’d used in Long Beach, it was more luxurious than her dinky L.A. studio. Except for the extra doors separating the two rooms, it was almost as good an arrangement as the Long Beach house. Shelby didn’t even consider taking a room across the hallway. She returned to Rosalee’s bedroom.

  The author glanced up as Shelby entered. “What do you think?”

  “It’s perfect. I hope Agent Kane won’t mind taking one of the rooms across the hall.”

  Rosalee sank into the wingback chair. “His bedroom is directly across from yours.”

  Shelby felt a little jolt that Kane would be sleeping so close. Last night, or rather earlier this morning, they’d taken turns sleeping so one of them was on guard until they started the trip. It was unlikely he’d agree to sleep during the day while she helped Rosalee on the book. At some point, they’d all be saying goodnight. Especially, after the long drive today.

  Rosalee eyed her. “That won’t be a problem for you, will it?”

  Shelby shook her head. “No. Of course not.”

  “Good.” Rosalee leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I’m a little more tired than I thought I’d be after that ride. I think I’d like a hot bath and then to settle in before dinner.”

  “I’ll bring your things up.” She backed out of the room, softly closing the door.

  Behind her, the steps creaked from someone’s weight. She slipped her retractable baton from its pouch and spun around. In the second it took for her to square up and face the hall, the baton was fully extended.

  “Whoa, there,” Kane said as he reached the top stair. He carried Oscar under one arm, and held up his hand to ward off her attack.

  Shelby lowered the weapon and glared at him. “Next time, say something before sneaking up like that.” She popped the tip of the baton against her palm, shrinking it back to its compact size, before sliding it into the case.

  “There won’t be a next time, if I can help it.” Kane put the dog on the floor. “You’re way too quick on the trigger.”

  Shelby stepped aside for him to enter his aunt’s room, and then moved out onto the balcony. Leaning on the pine railing, she gazed unseeing down into the living room. She wished she felt more comfortable around the FBI agent. The more time she spent in his presence, the deeper effect he had on her. She’d never experienced such hyper-awareness around any man, and feared this feeling was turning into more of an attraction than she wanted. It didn’t bode well for the assignment. She owed it to Northstar, and to Rosalee, to stay focused, and Kane was proving a distraction she couldn’t afford.

  Chapter Eleven

  Shelby leaned against the railing on the second-floor balcony of Rosalee’s Tahoe home for a moment, forcing herself to admire the view and sheer coziness of the place, instead of the lingering scent of Kane’s aftershave as he’d entered his aunt’s bedroom. He hadn’t looked all that disheveled after their day of traveling. Rosalee was exhausted and Shelby had to admit to feeling a bit weary herself.

  Pushing aside the tiredness, she pulled out her cell phone and checked for service. The signal was strong enough to make a call. O’Neal was waiting for confirmation they’d arrived safely, and she needed to report in. She kept the conversation short and to the point. Although he hadn’t been happy when Rosalee refused to fly back to D.C., he’d agreed that Tahoe was a decent second choice. He’d liked that the cabin was secluded and situated well enough for them to see trouble coming.

  “Have you found anything new on the latest threat letter?” If only there were more clues to aid in the investigation, instead of feeling like they were just running away to stay one step ahead of the threats.

  “Nothing. No prints. No DNA.” O’Neal sounded as unhappy about the lack of results as Shelby felt. “Since the letter was hand delivered, it seems to confirm someone knows where Rosalee lives.”

  “And like the rat incident, whoever it is can reach out when they please,” she finished the thought.

  “Stay alert, Shelby. We can’t assume the danger didn’t follow you.”

  She thought about the black sedan and silently agreed. She wished they’d spotted it again, but maybe Kane was right, and it was just a coincidence that it seemed to be following them.

  “Any more information on who killed the maid?” She was finding it hard to believe they were hitting so many dead ends.

  “The NYPD have the case. They’ve been going through what little evidence there was at the scene, but don’t have any leads, yet. The hotel footage seems to have been scrubbed. That suggests, like the latest threat letter indicated, the maid’s death was a warning, not some random burglary gone wrong.”

  “It’s not easy to wipe security footage.” Shelby was beginning to wonder if the person who was after Rosalee had more clout and resources than a typical fan stalker.

  “The lab techs have been digging through any digital footprint they can find, but so far have also hit dead ends.”

  “And with Allison on bedrest, I’m sure they’re feeling shorthanded.”

  “Indeed.” O’Neal sounded discouraged, too. “I hope, now you’re settled, you’ll be able to find some information on your end.”

  “I’ll keep digging.” She ended the call, promising to e-mail their progress on the book the following night. Tucking the phone back in her jeans, she conceded that the decision to come there had been a good one. It did feel safer. In fact, it felt more than safe. During her assignments, she’d been in some very posh, upscale homes. Yet this house, and Rosalee’s Long Beach home, had a more welcoming feel than any other place she’d ever been. Including her own apartment. Maybe it wasn’t just the place, but the people.

  Shoving the odd tug of longing away, she pushed her hands against the balcony rail. She was a nomad. It suited her to keep personal interactions to a minimum. Less messy when it came time for the inevitable goodbyes—and goodbyes were a staple in her life.

  Without waiting for Kane, she headed downstairs to bring in the luggage and groceries. After that, she’d tackle the mounds of snow in front of the garage. As she opened the front door, a double tone sounded on the wall near the downstairs hall. She glanced up and saw the magnetic connectors for an alarm system. Opening the door had broken the connection and sounded an audible alert. That was good. However, just noticing it now confirmed how distracted she’d become. She should have heard the alarm and seen the sensors as she and Rosalee toured the house earlier.

  Vowing to regain focus, she headed out into the cold night. By the time she’d stowed her own bag and checked that Rosalee was still in the bath, Shelby was ready for some dinner.

  Kane was coming out of his room at the same time she stepped into the hallway.

  He glanced at his aunt’s bedroom door. “Is Rosalee asleep?”

  “No. She’s taking a hot bath to relax before dinner.”

  “How do you think she’s holding up?” Kane’s tender statement caught Shelby off guard.

  “I’m sure you’re a better judge of that than I am.
What do you think?”

  He rubbed his neck, finally showing signs of weariness from the long drive. “She’s strong. But I suspect everything, from the maid’s murder to the incident with the rat, plus this long trip, has worn her down. She’s probably more at ease right now than she’s been for a few weeks.”

  Shelby glanced at Rosalee’s closed door, thinking Kane’s assessment was correct. “If she were my aunt, I’d make sure she took a good long rest before touching her next project.”

  “Some days, I think her projects are the only things that keep her going.” He gave a wry smile. “It’s like there’s not enough time in the day to tell her stories.”

  “I’ll do what I can to help her get this book finished early. Then maybe she can take a break before going back to her routine.”

  “I’d almost rather you didn’t.”

  His statement caught Shelby completely by surprise. “Didn’t what? Get her on schedule or finish the book?”

  She didn’t realize she’d spoken so loudly until Kane grabbed her by the arm.

  He pulled her aside and looked back at his aunt’s door. It remained closed and all was quiet within. “Come with me,” he whispered.

  She followed him downstairs and into the kitchen where he started unpacking the groceries they’d brought.

  “I’m starving.” He opened the refrigerator and stowed a couple of gallons of milk. “You said you could cook, right?”

  “I did. But I’m not cooking tonight. I’m tired, too.”

  “Okay, we’ll just make sandwiches.” He found a loaf of bread and fished out sandwich meat, mustard, and mayo from the grocery box.

  Shelby opened a cupboard and found some plates. “Do you really not want Rosalee to finish her book? Besides providing personal protection, that’s what I was hired to do. Now that you’ve taken over my primary responsibility, helping her finish the book is all I can do.”

  “It’s not so much helping her finish the book.” He opened a bag of potato chips and chomped down on one as he went about making sandwiches.

  “What, then?” She set the plates next to the bread, waiting impatiently for him to finish chewing.

  Kane brushed salt off his lower lip. “I don’t think the book should be published right now.” He grabbed a knife from a drawer and smoothed some mayo and mustard onto the slices of bread. After carefully laying out slabs of lunchmeat, he slapped a slice of bread on top of each sandwich and then arranged them on plates. Pulling one of the plates toward him, he grabbed the sandwich and took a bite.

  “Why not?” Shelby fisted her hands on her hips. “The book is nearly done. If she doesn’t publish, whoever issued those death threats wins.”

  He shoved a plate at her. “I know that,” he said around another mouthful.

  She ignored the food, losing some of her appetite at Kane’s comments. “Why didn’t you mention this before we drove all the way up here?”

  “Because we had to get her out of the house—away from the threats. At least until we’ve convinced everyone the book is off the table. That will buy some time to catch the culprit. Then she can finish her story.”

  “This book is really important to her. Is that what you want? For the bad guys to win?” Even with as little as she knew about Kane, Shelby couldn’t believe he wanted his aunt to give up.

  “No.” He took another bite, slowly chewing and swallowing. He put the sandwich down to wipe his mouth, and grabbed a bottle of water.

  She pulled his plate out of the way before he could take another bite.

  “Hey!”

  “You can have it back after you’ve explained yourself.”

  Kane eyed his sandwich as he took a swig of water. He capped the bottle. “It’s simple. She stops writing this book. Publicly announces she’s not going to publish—the threats stop.”

  “But she can’t stop now.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  Shelby raised her hands. “Both, I suppose. She signed a contract. You know she won’t go back on her word.” She slid his plate back to him.

  Kane snatched the sandwich off the plate to keep her from stealing it again. “She’s a New York Times best-selling author,” he mumbled around another mouthful. “She can offer another project to the publisher.”

  “She’s almost finished. This work is important to her.”

  “Publishing this book will get her killed.”

  “Over my dead body!”

  “That’s my point.” Kane pointed his sandwich at her. “And then it will be Aunt Rosalee’s dead body.”

  Shelby shook her head. “That won’t happen if you let me do my job.”

  “You can’t do it—if you’re dead.” He finished the sandwich and carried his plate to the sink.

  His statement caught her off guard. Her job was to put herself between the client and danger. There was never any doubt that she might be killed while on assignment, but no one had ever voiced it before now. Especially her. “Then two things need to take place while we’re here.” Squaring her shoulders, she ticked off a finger. “One. My firm, or the FBI needs to find the culprit and put him behind bars.” She held up a second finger. “Then we finish the book and get it in the publisher’s hands.” She propped her palms on the counter. “I’m here to make sure that gets accomplished. We’re going to finish her book.”

  Kane folded his arms, pulling his shirt tight across his chest. “You’re forgetting a third option.”

  Shelby raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

  “You can call the publisher right now, send in a press release, and stop this whole circus.”

  “No!” This objection came from the kitchen doorway.

  Shelby spun around. “Rosalee! I thought you were bathing.”

  “I was, until you two started shouting at each other.”

  “We weren’t shouting.” Kane gave her an indignant look.

  Rosalee snorted and tightened the belt on her robe. “You were both so loud Oscar started scratching at the door until I let him out.” She sighed. “I didn’t think I needed to put my earplugs in just to soak my tired bones.”

  “I’m sorry we disturbed you.” Shelby scowled at Kane.

  “Just as well. You two were contemplating the demise of my career. I’m glad I came down to stop it.” Rosalee glared at her nephew. “I’m going to finish my book, Nelson, if it’s the last thing I do on God’s green earth.”

  “Aunt Rosalee…” Kane started.

  “NO. No arguments.” She turned to Shelby. “Would you bring a glass of warm milk to my room?”

  “Of course.”

  “I made you a sandwich.” Kane pointed at the plates.

  “Good.” Rosalee crooked a finger in his direction. “Bring it to my room and then you can help me find my earplugs.”

  Shelby couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at her lips. She tried to hide it, but not before Kane saw.

  “We’re not done,” he muttered, then turned and followed Rosalee out of the kitchen.

  ****

  “I like her, Nelson,” Rosalee told Kane as they walked to her room. “I don’t want you scaring her away.”

  “As if anything could scare her,” he grumbled.

  “I heard that.” She gave him a sharp stare in spite of her exhausted state. “She’s already been a tremendous help. In fact, when this is all over, I’m going to ask her to stay on full-time.”

  Rosalee took off her robe and laid it across the foot of the bed. She was dressed in her pajamas.

  “As your bodyguard?” He put her sandwich on the bedside table and started digging through her night bag for the earplugs.

  “Maybe. That little episode at the airport got me thinking how nice it would be for someone to run interference for me when I travel.” She settled into her bed and added, “I’m sure I can top her salary at Northstar. Besides, she makes a wonderful companion.”

  “What episode at the airport?” Kane gave his aunt an exasperated look. “What else haven’t you told
me?”

  His aunt waved a dismissive hand. “She simply handled a bunch of fans that were after my autograph.” She smiled proudly. “I’ve been so wrapped up in the autobiography, I didn’t even know my latest release was out. Have you read it?”

  Kane resumed his search and grunted as he triumphantly held up the missing earplugs. “I haven’t had time.” He handed the earplugs to his aunt. “I’ve heard Northstar pays their agents quite well, so don’t expect Shelby to jump at your offer. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Yes. Stop trying to end my career.” She leaned against the propped up pillows, her expression taut with worry.

  In that moment, Kane saw every one of her seventy-seven years. “I’m sorry about what I said. I should have discussed it with you first.”

  Straightening, she looked him right in the eye. “I’m finishing this book. Please don’t get in the way.”

  “Here’s your milk,” Shelby said from the doorway.

  Kane turned.

  Even as petite as she was, the Northstar agent still seemed to fill a room. Her energy surrounded him, touched him in ways he didn’t quite understand, and all she did was occupy the same space. Her arrival saved him from arguing with his aunt.

  He really needed to hold the discussion with his aunt when she wasn’t exhausted. “Eat your sandwich, too.” He gave Rosalee a quick kiss on her cheek and then slipped away before she could protest. He didn’t want to oppose his aunt. He wanted her to feel good about finishing her projects, but he wasn’t ready to bury her, either. At Rosalee’s age, Kane knew he’d have to face that reality sooner or later—much later, if he had anything to say about it.

  ****

  Two hours later, Shelby walked into the kitchen after checking on Rosalee. The author had retired early and was tucked away in her room with a book and another cup of warm milk. The woman might be feisty and stubborn, but the day had taken its toll and drained her bravado.

  The kitchen was brightly lit, contrasting with the subdued atmosphere that overtook the house as the evening lengthened. It would’ve been easy to sit at the table in the cozy room poring over the pages of Rosalee’s book, if only Kane’s presence didn’t fill the entire space. She couldn’t sit anywhere without looking at him, smelling his spicy scent, or accidentally brushing against him when she reached across the table. Uncharacteristically, she wanted to do all of it. Which meant she was going to have a devil of a time concentrating on her task. She took a deep breath. Rosalee’s life depended on finding the person making the threats. She had to put all wayward thoughts of FBI Special Agent Kane out of her mind.