The Agent

by Herkness, Nancy

  At least he understood that she had to decide. “So it’s not just a quotation?”

  He shook his head. “It’s an image. One that pops up the moment you open the email. Which means he coded it to get through any photo blockers.”

  “A photo?”

  “A disturbing one. Let me describe it to you instead. Then you won’t have the actual picture smeared across your brain.” His voice held a note of entreaty that she’d never heard from him before.

  “I know you’re trying to protect me but I think I need to see it.” She’d worked too hard to build herself back up again. She couldn’t let a man make her decisions for her, even with the best of intentions.

  He put his hand on the computer just as she reached for it. She was about to snap at him when he said, “Let me prepare you first. It’s a photo of you. It looks like a professional headshot, but your hair was longer. The photo is pinned to a wall . . . by knives. They’re positioned on the eyes, the mouth, and the throat. Streaks of red paint run down from the knives.”

  Natalie fought the urge to cup her hands over her eyes to protect them. She noticed how Tully had described the picture in the most objective terms he could in an attempt to undercut the horror of it. She swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay. Let me see it.”

  He blew out a breath and slowly rotated the computer toward her, his reluctance clear. For a moment she was tempted to let him carry the burden of the image, to keep the ugliness out of her brain, as he had advised. But she straightened her spine and shifted her gaze to the screen.

  Horror sucked her breath out of her lungs. Tully was right. It was much worse to see it in high-resolution color on her computer screen. The knives were large, vicious-looking hunting implements with nasty serrations along one side of the black blades. The paint Tully had described as red was blood colored and had been gobbed onto the picture so it dripped like blood as well. Even worse, each of her eyes had been entirely cut out before the knife was plunged through it. A dripping red line was drawn across her throat beside the impaling knife.

  She suddenly realized that one of her hands had drifted up to touch her throat exactly where the red line would be. She dropped it abruptly, and then her knees gave way so she had to sink into her chair.

  “That is . . . a definite escalation,” she finally said, her voice coming out with a quaver.

  “That’s a threat,” he said. “We’re taking all the evidence to the police.”

  She dragged her gaze away from the vile email to look at him. “But they can’t do anything if we don’t know who sent it.”

  “We’re getting it all on official record so that when we catch this son of a bitch, he’ll be locked away forever.” His voice held an icy determination. “From now on, you do not spend one second alone. Not one single second.”

  “Yes . . . no. I mean, I agree.” She didn’t want to be alone with the terror that snarled through her chest and her gut and her mind.

  Whatever the expression on her face was, it must have been bad, because Tully knelt in front of her chair and wrapped her hands in his warm, strong grasp. “Nat, we’ll get him. Don’t worry.” His eyes were lit with a gentle concern. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

  “I just—” She had to stop and clear the tightness in her throat. “I just don’t understand what I’ve done to make someone hate me that much.”

  He lifted one hand to cup her cheek, his calloused fingers tender. “Sweetheart, you haven’t done anything. We’re dealing with a psychopath. He doesn’t need a reason to hate you. Somehow you happened to get in his path, so he picked you as a target.”

  Tully was so big and so close and so comforting. She echoed his gesture and laid her palm against his cheek. His skin was smooth from his morning shave. She could see the crinkle of lines at the corner of each eye and the way the scar twisted a few hairs of his eyebrow. His brown hair caught flecks of gold from the sunlight coming through her window. If only she could wrap herself in him until the stalker was captured, she would feel no fear.

  She leaned forward, shifting her hand to the back of his neck and finding his mouth with hers. His grip moved to her waist and he eased her off the chair so she was on her knees and crushed against him while his lips slanted across hers. Then his hands were in her hair, tilting her head so he could kiss her more deeply. All the horror that had twisted through her body transformed to a desperate yearning to meld herself with Tully, to let physical pleasure blast away the clench of panic.

  She yanked open the buttons and slipped her hands under his jacket, stroking over the fine cotton of his shirt so she could feel the dense muscle underneath. When she encountered the body-warmed metal of his gun, the brutal rigidity of it shocked her out of her mindless seeking.

  Leaning back, she withdrew her hands and laid them against his lapels. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Using you for comfort.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled and stroked the pad of his thumb along her jaw. “You can use me anytime, sweetheart.”

  She shook her head. It was too tempting to let him carry the whole burden of her stalker. She lifted herself back onto her chair. “Okay, what do I tell the police?”

  Tully searched her face, the small crease between his eyebrows evident. “You wait until I can go with you. We need to take all the evidence to them—emails, letters, mirror. I’ll have them messengered here.” He pushed up from the floor to lean his hip against her desk and glanced at his stainless steel watch. “I already called Pam, so she’ll be arriving soon. I have to get back to the city for a couple of meetings I can’t cancel, but I’ll return as soon as those are finished.”

  Guilt jabbed at her. “Do whatever you need to do in the city. As long as Pam is here, I’ll be fine. Please don’t rush back.”

  He gave her a sizzling look. “I’m not rushing back for your sake. I’m rushing back for mine.”

  He was trying to distract her from the horrible image on her computer.

  “Natalie? Sorry to bother you.” Bianca hesitated halfway in the doorway. “Your next client is here.”

  “Of course.” Natalie rose. Work would be almost as good a distraction as Tully. Okay, that was a lie, but work would help. “I’ll be right there.”

  Bianca nodded and vanished.

  “You really don’t have to stay until Pam arrives,” Natalie said to Tully. “Gino has already offered to deal with Dobs if he comes back.”

  “I could use a cup of that coffee I smelled out in the lounge,” he said, gesturing for her to precede him.

  “You are an obstinate man.” Natalie sighed as she walked out the office door.

  He grinned. “I hear that a lot.”

  Chapter 11

  Once he’d checked the perimeter and the interior, Tully allowed Natalie to walk into her house after they’d returned from filing the stalker complaint with the police chief. She went straight to her kitchen while he paced behind her, thinking wicked thoughts as he watched the way her hips swayed.

  “Would you like a drink?” she asked, pulling bottles out of her pantry. “I’m making a rye Manhattan for myself, but I’ve got bourbon, scotch, beer, or wine if you prefer.”

  She’d held up like a champ during the ninety minutes of presenting their evidence, describing her encounter with Dobs, and answering the chief’s probing questions. Tully had seen strong men break down under that kind of pressure, but not his Nat. She was like an elegant china doll with a spine of pure steel. Even the chief had been impressed with her calm, rational attitude, telling Tully he wished all his witnesses were like Natalie.

  But Tully could hear the edge of a tremor in her voice and see the tension in her slim shoulders. He put his arms around her waist from behind and gently kissed the side of her neck just under her ear, savoring the satin of her skin. “You’re exhausted,” he said. “Let me make your fancy drink. I worked as a bartender in college.”

  Satisfaction spread through his c
hest when she leaned back against him without hesitation, saying, “I find it soothing to do something normal.”

  “I’ll have a Manhattan too, then.” Even though he would have preferred straight scotch. No, he would have preferred to stand like this, her body pressed to his, her light feminine scent infusing the air he breathed. But he needed to take care of her. “You got any crackers and cheese? I’ll get those out.” He figured she could use some food to soak up the alcohol. Otherwise the effects might hit her hard. Although maybe it would be a good thing after what she’d been through.

  She reached into the pantry to pull out a box of wheat crackers, which he took from her. “Cheese in the fridge drawer,” she said. “Platter under the island. Knife in the top drawer by the range. Also, would you grab two martini glasses from the cabinet by the sink and put them in the freezer?”

  “Sure thing.” He stripped out of his suit jacket and yanked off his tie. He’d ditched the gun before he went into the police station. Cops didn’t take kindly to civilians with firearms, even former law enforcement officers with a license to carry. Of course, he’d brought the Glock with him into the house in his overnight bag.

  Finding the martini glasses, he wedged them into the freezer drawer. When he stood up, he caught Natalie’s gaze on him, a slight smile playing around the corners of her soft lips as though she liked what she saw. His groin tightened and he gave her a wink.

  Her smile went wider before she looked back at the vermouth she was measuring. God, he wanted to take her to bed. Instead, he rummaged around in the fridge to find cheese and grapes, piled them on the platter, and arranged the crackers around them.

  When he heard the cocktail shaker plunk down on the counter, he looked up. “You ready for the glasses?”

  She nodded without saying anything. He could see the shadows of fatigue under her eyes, making their blue seem darker. Now he wanted to fold her in his arms and swear that no one would hurt her. Because no one would on his watch.

  He carried the platter to the coffee table in front of the sectional sofa while she balanced the drinks. When she sat, he settled close to her and snaked an arm around her waist to tuck her against his side. Contentment warmed him when she scooted over willingly. He held up his glass. “To the confusion of our enemies!”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Natalie said, clinking her rim gently against his. She took a sip, closed her eyes, and let her head fall back against his shoulder. “Ahh.”

  The sensual melody of her voice vibrated through him, making him shift on the couch. “That sound reminds me of last night. In a very good way.” His words came out with a rasp.

  She hummed. “A perfect Manhattan is almost as good as sex.”

  “Maybe in your opinion, but I prefer a perfect woman.” He brushed his mouth against her temple, the silk of her hair tickling his cheek.

  “Your compliment is over the top but I’ll take it,” she said, her lips curled in that little smirk of a smile again.

  To keep himself from devouring her, he said, “The police chief thinks you’re pretty amazing.”

  And the chief had taken the threats to Natalie seriously. Tully had made sure of that.

  “Chief Borland is a good guy.” She took another sip of her drink. “But he admitted that he doesn’t have the resources to track down a stalker.”

  “But I do.” He put every ounce of his determination into his voice to reassure her. The latest email had taken this situation to a whole new level of bad. He was clearing his calendar so he could catch this bastard.

  “You know, I feel sorry for Regina Van Houten, out there all alone, terrified that her husband will find her and drag her back.” Natalie opened her eyes and angled her head to meet his gaze. “While I have all your strength and expertise guarding me. I’m very lucky.”

  He would be flattered except that her eyes swam with unshed tears and her words were the smallest bit slurred. “Just doing my job.”

  “No, you’re doing far more than your job.” She searched his face, her brows drawn down in a tiny frown. “Pam could handle things. She’s very good . . . but you already know that, of course. Why have you taken such an interest in my problem? And don’t tell me it’s for sex. You could get that on your own. I know that for a fact.”

  He snorted. “You give me way too much credit.” Okay, she wasn’t wrong if she meant one-night stands or women who were turned on by his bank account. He’d lost interest in those kinds of liaisons, though. He was old enough to want something real and that was Natalie. The real deal. He wasn’t even sure what he meant by that, but he knew in his gut it was true.

  And she had no intention of ever marrying again, so that fit right in with his life plans.

  “Never mind that,” she said. “Why are you helping me?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Because you need help.” Because he admired her grit and her integrity and her sexy little smile. “I hate stalkers. They’re psychopathic bullies, preying on innocent people who don’t have the weapons to fight back.”

  “Sort of like the big guy beating up the little guy in the schoolyard. Did you ride to the rescue back then too?”

  “Maybe.” He’d been in his share of fights as a kid, but not all of them were for noble causes.

  She curved her hand against his cheek, sending a ripple of awareness down to his belly. “You are a very good man, Tully. The knight on his white charger.”

  “You have a rose-colored vision of me,” he said. “I do it because I like to, not because I’m noble.”

  He was an addict like everyone in his family, except his particular addiction was the adrenaline rush of kicking ass. He’d just learned to channel it into kicking the ass of bad guys.

  A tear rolled down her face. He stopped himself from licking it off, using his thumb to brush away the warm liquid instead. “That’s the alcohol hitting you. We need to get you some food.”

  He eased his arm from behind her to stack a slice of cheese on a cracker. When he offered it to her, she surprised him by leaning forward to bite into the morsel as he held it, her lips grazing his fingertips so he could feel the chill of the Manhattan on them. The contact was like cold fire on his skin.

  He waited for her to swallow before he lifted the remainder of the cracker to her mouth again. This time her tongue flicked out to touch his thumb.

  As much as he wanted what she was offering, he couldn’t take it when she was so vulnerable. “Sweetheart, you’ve had a rough day. Let me order us some Chinese and then you can go to sleep.”

  “Sleep?” Her face turned bleak and she shook her head. “If I don’t have something else to think about, all I can see is that horrible photograph. I won’t be sleeping without some help.” She gave him a seductive smile and skimmed her index finger down the center of his chest.

  He seized her hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing her small, warm palm. “After you eat, we’ll see how you feel.” But her words and touch had brought his cock to full attention. He adjusted his position to ease the pressure.

  Her gaze dropped below his waist and her smile grew even more scorching. “I can see how you feel.”

  “Yeah, but the advantage of being a mature male is that I know better than to act on it right now.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “What’s your favorite Chinese restaurant that delivers?”

  She let out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’m not as irresistible as I thought.”

  He twisted to kiss her chilled lips in a way that warmed them right up. When she made an eager little noise in the back of her throat, he nearly lost his grip on his good intentions. Pulling away, he said, “My resistance is very short term. After dinner, I will ravish you thoroughly.”

  “That’s more like it,” she said, peeking at him sideways through her eyelashes. “Look up Zhang Wei for dinner. The tangerine beef is excellent.”

  Natalie had to admit that dinner had improved her mood. She was embarrassed at how weepy she’d been earlier
. She’d sworn off needing a man for comfort . . . or for anything other than sex. They were useful for that.

  And for not thinking about things she was trying to avoid.

  She put her chopsticks down beside her empty dish. “You never told me who you went to scare this morning.”

  “I’m not sure you want to know,” he said, scooping more food onto his plate. “You’re right about this tangerine beef. It’s damn good.”

  Realization struck her, and the food in her stomach soured. “You saw Matt, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah.” He stowed the serving spoon back in the rice and glanced at her from under his eyebrows. “You want to know what I think?”

  She nodded, her throat tight with a strange combination of fear, anticipation, and residual rage toward her ex. If he was her stalker, she would be tempted to do him real physical damage.

  “I don’t think he’s your stalker. Not because he’s a decent person but because he was relieved when I accused him of it.”

  “Relieved?” She didn’t understand.

  “I had a gun. He had no idea why, so he was afraid. When I told him the reason I was there, he became less afraid. Fear is fundamental, so I believed his reaction, even though I wouldn’t trust a single word he said otherwise.” Tully took a bite of beef and rice and chewed.

  Natalie watched the strong muscles of his throat as he swallowed, feeling a little charge of heat run through her. “So if not Matt, then who?”

  “Well, I’ve moved Dobs Van Houten to the top of the suspect list after today. I’ve arranged for one of my people to keep an eye on him.”

  “Dobs? He was so pathetic.” Natalie shook her head as she tried to picture him jamming knives into her photograph. “I could see him sending emails and maybe even dropping off letters. But breaking into my car? And that horrible picture?” A shudder caught her unawares. “He seems too . . . bland for that.”

  “He threatened to throw his wife down the stairs.” Tully’s voice was as hard as granite.

  Natalie’s fingers curled into a fist. “Men do things in their own homes that they wouldn’t dare do outside them.”