Special Ops Bodyguard

by Beth Cornelison

  “Does Janet always act that way toward you?”

  She gave him a puzzled frown. “Act what way?”

  Before he could answer, Charlie Stokes drove past the diner, his ancient truck backfiring with a loud boom.

  Instantly, Gage dropped low behind the table, jerking her to the floor beside him.

  “Get down!” he roared, sending a wave of panic and series of gasps through the diner. Especially when he dug a large handgun from under his jacket and scrambled in a crouch to the corner of the diner where Hank Kelley huddled behind a stack of extra chairs.

  Kate clapped a hand to her chest and chuckled a nervous laugh. “Easy, cowboy. Put away the weapon. That was just Mr. Stokes’s 1957 pickup backfiring.”

  Slowly the other diners realized Gage’s alarm had been for naught and returned to their meals with shakes of their heads. Kate scurried across the room, a reassuring hand raised toward Gage.

  The senator and Gage cast another look around the room for good measure, then Gage put a hand under Hank Kelley’s elbow to help him back to his feet. “Right.” He clamped his lips in a scowl. “Still, I couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t a truck. I—” He released a deep breath that shuddered out of him. “Are you all right, Senator?”

  Hank nodded, frowning at his bodyguard. “Fine, but…I’m ready to go. I—” he cleared his throat and dusted invisible dirt from his suit-coat sleeve “—have business to take care of.”

  Hank walked to the register in clipped strides, fishing out his wallet to settle the bill.

  But Gage didn’t follow. Instead, he braced a hand against the back wall and stared blankly at the floor while sweat beaded on his brow. He sawed out ragged breaths, and the muscles in his arms trembled.

  Concern jabbed Kate, and she stepped closer, placing a hand on his broad back. “Gage, are you all right?”

  His head snapped up, and his eyes flickered with a wild light. Blinking hard, he took a couple of deep gulps of air and tucked the gun at the small of his back again.

  “I—I’m fine. I just—” Sucking in a big breath that flared his nostrils, he shoved away from the wall and squared his shoulders. For the first time since she’d met him, he refused to meet her gaze. “Thank you again…for the pastries.”

  Without further explanation, he marched past her, took the box of eclairs from their table and escorted the senator out of the diner.

  Kate stared after him, bewildered. What had caused such a drastic reaction from him? The stone-faced tough guy she’d met last night had…cracked. But what did she really know about him? Judging by his defense of Janet last night and the way he’d pulled her out of harm’s way a few minutes ago when he’d thought there was danger, Kate guessed protectiveness was more than an occupation for him. Gage held doors for ladies and had the presence of mind to thank her for the eclairs, even when he’d clearly been rattled by the backfiring truck. Gallant and well-mannered. A modern-day knight.

  Kate smiled to herself as she returned to work. If she were a damsel in distress, she could do a lot worse than to have hunky, brooding Gage Prescott coming to her rescue.

  “From now on,” Gage said as he backed the Town Car out onto the main street of Maple Cove, “I’m no more than three feet from you anytime we are in public. Got it?”

  “That was a private phone call.”

  Gage shrugged. “I’m discreet. I won’t disclose any of your personal business, nor will I intentionally eavesdrop.”

  Hank grunted. “I’ve heard that before.”

  “My only interest is in being close enough to you that I can protect you from a sniper or kidnapper. I was wrong to let you leave the table without me. I won’t repeat that mistake.”

  Gage wished he had a do-over on the last ten minutes for personal reasons, too. He hated the thought that Kate had seen his reaction to the truck backfiring.

  A freaking truck backfiring. And he’d gone ballistic. Damn it, he’d heard enough gunfire in his life to know the difference between a sniper rifle and a truck backfiring. And yet he’d had a little meltdown. Right there in front of Kate, the senator and half the town of Maple Cove. Gage squeezed the steering wheel and sighed his disgust. One boom, and he was right back on that infernal Afghan road, shaking like a sissy and sweating like a whore. He clenched his teeth. What must Kate think?

  Hank grumbled something that sounded like “damn baby-sitter,” then sighed as his cell rang again. “Yes?” he answered in a clipped tone.

  Gage glanced in the rearview mirror at the senator as he took the call. Hank stiffened, and his face paled. “Who is this? Where is Lana?”

  Lana. A chill spun through Gage. The senator’s kidnapped daughter.

  “I’m clear on your demands, but—” Hank’s voice held an undeniable wobble.

  Pulling the car to a stop at the side of the country road, Gage pivoted to face the senator in the backseat, listening and watching intently. Hank met his gaze, the fear in his eyes unmistakable.

  “I want to talk to Lana. I want proof that she is alive and well!” the senator barked. When his expression shifted, softened, Gage knew the kidnappers had complied. “Lana! How are you? Where are you?” Hank listened intently, his eyes filling with moisture. He nodded, swallowed hard. “Same here, darling. I— Lana?” Again Hank’s face tightened. “Listen here, you cretin, if you hurt her, I’ll—” He jerked. “Hello? Hello? Damn it!” The senator jabbed his disconnect button, scowling.

  Gage gave Hank only a moment to collect himself. “What did your daughter say? Did she give you any useful information?”

  The senator glanced up, frowning, clearly ready to tell Gage to mind his own business. But he hesitated, then shook his head. “No. She just had a personal message for me.” He furrowed his brow, mumbling, “An oddly worded one at that.”

  “Oddly worded…how?” Gage pressed. “Tell me exactly what she said. What noises could you hear in the background?”

  Hank pressed his mouth in a stubborn line. “My relationship with my daughter is none of your business.”

  Gage narrowed an equally mulish glare on the senator. “It is if her kidnapping, the people holding her, the threats and demands her kidnappers have made affect my ability to keep you safe. I need to know everything about that call and any others you receive from the blackmailers. Tell me what she said, what the kidnapper said. Verbatim.”

  Hank turned toward the window, folding his arms over his chest. For a moment, he said nothing, his turbulent thoughts and emotions playing across his creased face. “The man said the same thing they’ve always said—that if I want Lana returned, I know what I have to do.”

  “Which is?” Gage prompted.

  Hank jerked his attention back to Gage, his jaw rigid. “Non-negotiable and top secret.”

  Gage clenched his teeth. How was he supposed to protect the senator when the man wouldn’t tell him what or who they were up against?

  Hank shifted on the seat and cleared his throat. “Then Lana said, and I quote, ‘On the remote chance that I survive this ordeal, I hope we can elevate our relationship to a higher place.’ Period. Then they took the phone away from her, repeated their warning and hung up.”

  Gage repeated Lana’s statement, puzzling over the awkward phrasing. Was her wording choice a matter of nerves or was she telling her father something?

  Hank dragged a hand over his mouth and sighed wearily. “As you saw last night with Cole, I haven’t been an especially good father in recent years. I traveled a lot on business, worked late, gave my career priority over family more often than not.” Hank cast Gage a brief guilty glance before turning toward the window again. “Cole resents me, especially now, with all my…indiscretions coming to light.” Another sigh. “Can’t say that I blame him.”

  Gage arched an eyebrow. That admission, for a senator who’d been as self-involved as Hank Kelley, was rather significant. Too bad Cole wasn’t here to hear it.

  Gage hadn’t been close to his own father, but at least no animosi
ty lingered between them the way Cole resented the senator.

  “But Lana was different,” the senator said, pulling Gage out of his musings. “Lana always stood by me, gave me the benefit of the doubt. So for her to say we need to work on our relationship—”

  “Elevate,” Gage corrected as he pulled the Town Car back onto the road.

  “What?”

  “You quoted her as saying she hoped you could elevate your relationship. I think her word choice was intentional.”

  “Are you saying she was sending me a cryptic message?” Skepticism darkened Hank’s tone.

  Gage shrugged. “Possible. Can you think of another reason for her odd phrasing?”

  “I— No. What do you think she was saying?”

  “Good question.” Gage chewed the inside of his cheek as he drove past the endless stretch of pasture land, the jagged silhouette of the nearby mountains looming before them. “Elevate could mean elevators. That and the bit about a higher place… Maybe she was saying something about a high-rise building…somewhere you’d have to take an elevator to the top floor.”

  “A tall building, hmm?” Hank scoffed. “Well, that narrows it down, doesn’t it?”

  Gage cast Hank a withering glance in the rearview mirror. “We’re brainstorming here, talking through the possibilities.”

  Jerk.

  “Fine. So my highly educated daughter was telling me, not that she hoped to have a closer relationship with me but that she was being held in a tall building with an elevator,” Hank groused. “Brilliant.”

  “Actually, I think any clue she could pass to you without tipping her hand to her kidnappers is very crafty.” Gage rolled the ache in his shoulders. When he’d dived for the floor at the diner, he’d caught the edge of the table. His arm would be sporting a good bruise tonight. “Give her credit.”

  “Oh, I do. But your interpretations of her clues are rather thin, don’t you think?”

  They’d reached the entrance to the Bar Lazy K Ranch, and Gage drove through the raw timber arch. “Elevate could refer to professional rank or position. Although she said higher place. That makes me think she’s talking about a location.” Gage glanced in the rearview mirror again to assess the senator’s reaction to this hypothesis. And the reflection of the Absaroka Mountains behind them caught his attention.

  “Elevate…elevation…higher place…” One thought tumbled onto the next as certainty swelled in him. Gage braked hard and swivelled to stare through the back window. “Maybe she was saying she’s in the mountains. She could even be in those mountains.” He aimed a finger at the range on the horizon.

  Hank tensed and turned to look out at the rugged peaks. “My family has owned property in or near Maple Cove for three generations. That’s public knowledge.” A muscle in Hank’s jaw twitched. “She was taken in Europe, but…it’s certainly possible the kidnappers would hold her near here.”

  Gage drummed the steering wheel with his fingers as he started the car inching up the gravel road to the main house. “It’s one possibility, but we can’t fixate on one idea to the exclusion of others.”

  He knew better than to expect the senator to give him any credit for having worked through Lana’s puzzle even that far. Gage schooled his expression and parked on the drive in front of the main house.

  “Once we figure out where she is, I can finally do something to help her.” Hank’s tone rang with an optimism that bothered Gage.

  “Meaning you’ll call the FBI?”

  “No. The kidnappers were clear. No police.” Hank sliced the air with his hand. “I’ll only call the FBI as a last resort.”

  Gritting his teeth to bite back his opinion of Hank’s stubbornness, Gage climbed out of the car and scanned the property for threats with a careful eye. From the door by the kitchen, Ace trotted up, tongue lolling, to greet the arriving guests, and Gage held the dog’s collar while Hank got out of the car.

  “Sir, I understand your reluctance to defy the people holding your daughter, but the FBI—”

  “No FBI!” Hank growled and straightened his sleeves. “I have my own resources and personal reasons not to involve the authorities. When the time is right, I’ll have Lana rescued on my own terms.” Turning on his heel, the senator marched toward the house, his chin high.

  Gage closed the car door and used the key fob to lock the doors as he followed the senator inside. He could only hope Senator Kelley’s selfish agenda didn’t get his daughter killed.

  Chapter 4

  The eclairs were to die for.

  Gage chewed the first sweet bite, letting the chocolate-cream filling and flaky pastry melt against his tongue, and he couldn’t help but groan in ecstasy. He’d never tasted anything so delicious. Not counting the apple pie he’d had when he’d stopped by the diner for supper his first night in town.

  He took another bite and propped his feet up on the bed in his guest room, settling in for a quiet evening with the television and a dessert box full of indulgence. No doubt about it, Kate could bake like a champion.

  Gage dipped his finger into the middle of the eclair and dug out a scoop of the chocolate filling. He stared at the sweet treat he’d excavated and imagined using the cream filling to paint his initials on a certain wheat-blond pastry chef’s naked belly. Closing his eyes, he pictured himself licking the chocolate from her skin, sucking it from her fingers and smearing it on her—

  Wrrooopp.

  The whoop of an alarm shattered the calm of the night, and Gage lunged to his feet. Adrenaline pumped through him, kicking his heartbeat into overdrive as he hurried toward the senator’s suite.

  He met Bart and the senator in the hall as the night-duty bodyguard hustled Hank toward the wine-cellar-cum-panic room.

  “Any idea what triggered the alarm?” Gage asked Bart as he fell in step beside them, one hand on his service weapon.

  Bart shook his head. “None. Once I get the senator to the wine cellar, I’ll check the monitors in the security office.”

  “No, you stay with him until the all-clear.” He nodded toward Hank, who frowned back. “I’ll check the monitors and the property.”

  “For crying out loud, I’m not a child!” the senator grumbled to Bart. “You don’t have to sit with me while he does all the work.”

  Bart leaned closer to Gage, muttering over the shriek of the alarm. “I’m thinking you have the easy assignment this go-around.”

  Hannah appeared at the end of the hall, waving them toward a stairwell near the kitchen. “This way, Senator.”

  Gage saw Hank, Bart, Hannah and an orange cat the housekeeper clutched in her arms down the steps to the security of the reinforced wine cellar, then headed to the first-floor room where the security system’s master controls were set up. He surveyed the bank of monitors, checking each screen for unusual activity.

  Problem was, he knew too little about ranch life to know what was normal and what might be suspicious. A man in a cowboy hat was in the stables, apparently calming a horse that had been spooked by the sirens at the main house. The ranch hands’ bunkhouse was eerily dark and still in the absence of the men who’d left that morning on roundup.

  When the phone in the security office rang, Gage answered the call.

  “This is Cole. Who am I talking to?”

  “Gage Prescott. From your father’s security team.”

  “I had a call from the sheriff that the security alarm at the ranch had gone off. Is…my father all right?”

  Gage heard genuine concern in Cole’s voice. Despite the hard feelings and distance between the rancher and his father, Gage sensed a family affection that said all was not lost for that relationship.

  “We have your father in the secure room. I’m checking the monitors now but don’t see anything out of the ordinary. I can call you back once I go outside to check the property.”

  “Nah. Wes will call me if there’s anything to report.”

  “Wes?”

  “Wes Colton, the county sheriff. He’s on hi
s way to check things out, give you backup.”

  “Got it.” Gage thought about telling Cole about the phone call Hank had received today from the kidnappers, but he’d sworn his discretion to the senator and refused to break that vow. After assuring Cole that everything was under control at the ranch and he didn’t need to return from the roundup early, Gage found a flashlight and pulled his jacket from the front closet before heading out into the chilly October night.

  A curtain of fog swirled through the dark evening, giving the moonlight a muted glow.

  Gage had just finished a preliminary search of the perimeter of the main house when a set of headlights pierced the night, traveling up the long gravel drive from the highway.

  Gage strode out to meet the arriving car and offered his hand to the uniformed man who stepped out of the patrol car.

  After exchanging introductions with the sheriff, Gage and Wes began a thorough search of the grounds. A more careful inspection of the main house yielded nothing, as did the check of the barn, but at the empty bunkhouse, Gage found a broken window on the back wall. “Sheriff, take a look.”

  As Wes approached, Gage shone his flashlight on the ground below the window and spotted a set of foot impressions in the dusty dirt.

  “What have you got?” Wes asked.

  “This doesn’t look like a simple accident to me.” Gage pointed out the footprints and shattered glass, then aimed his flashlight through the window to the bunkhouse floor where a brick lay in the middle of the floor.

  The pale moonlight cast harsh shadows across the sheriff’s chiseled face, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Could be simple vandalism, but…this does seem fishy to me. Anyone who lives around here knows the hands are out on roundup, and nobody is home at the bunkhouse. So why target the bunkhouse?”

  Gage rubbed the back of his neck. “Good question.”

  “I’ll get a team out here to get a mold of this footprint and see if we can lift any prints from the brick.”

  Gage gave a tight nod. “I’ll keep looking, maybe see if I can tell which way the vandal left the area.”