VIP Protector

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Throwing on a bedside lamp, he saw half-open drawers and a discarded outfit on a chair.

  “Bitch!”

  She'd gotten away.

  But that was impossible! Through binoculars, he'd watched the woman detective escort her in the door and then leave sometime later. And he'd waited to make certain Little Miss Goody-Two Shoes didn't leave the building, as well.

  Apparently, he hadn't waited long enough.

  A temporary set-back.

  If he didn't get her here, he would get her elsewhere, he told himself. Looking around and spotting her desk, he figured out how he could salvage the night's work.

  It was merely a matter of time and then Evelyn Cross would be his to do with as he would.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Lynn couldn't look at Blade, but she wasn't sure if it was because they'd gone as far as they had or because he hadn't let it go farther. He'd certainly kept control of the situation.

  She took a long shower. After spending as much time as she could in the bathroom, she reluctantly opened the door. The odor of fresh coffee and cooked bacon wafted to her and her stomach protested.

  “Breakfast is almost ready,” he told her.

  She mumbled, “I'm not a morning person.”

  “Consider it brunch.”

  If she ate with him, she wouldn't be able to avoid looking at him, wouldn't be able to avoid the condemnation in his gaze. Still... not having had dinner the night before, she was starving.

  “I guess I could eat a little something.”

  She glanced into the kitchenette. Fully dressed, his hair tied back from his face as it had been the day before, he was taking scrambled eggs out of the microwave. He split them between two dishes and then carried them into the main room, over to a small table against the wall opposite the couch.

  Great. An intimate table for two. How lucky could she get?

  “Help yourself to coffee.”

  She filled a mug and joined him at the table, where she stared at the food on her plate rather than at him. He'd wedged the eggs and bacon between two slices of toast.

  “Mmm, a breakfast sandwich. Looks good.” Taking a bite, she wasn't disappointed.

  “It's easy. Easy is the only thing I can do with a microwave and hot plate. Eat up. Cassandra is bound to be awake by now.”

  Remembering her projected make-over, Lynn winced and swallowed. “You know, Cassandra looks really great, but she has her own style.” She dared to look Blade in the eye. “I'm not sure I'm up to being made over her by her.”

  “Don't worry,” he said, as she took another bite, “she can hold herself back... unless

  you want purple hair.”

  Lynn nearly choked on her mouthful of food and then realized Blade was trying to cover up a smile. What in the world was she in for?

  Deciding she'd be more able to handle the situation after eating, she chowed down. And gradually she realized she felt more comfortable than she'd expected with the man. He hadn't referred to her middle-of-the-night gaff. He hadn't so much as looked at her cross-eyed. Maybe she could continue to meet him eye-to-eye without cringing, after all.

  She'd just finished her breakfast sandwich and was taking the last sip of her coffee when he said, “That nightmare last night—do you remember it?”

  Lynn's mouth went dry and she gripped her mug tightly. “It was like I was being snatched all over again, only in this dark, placeless hole.”

  “Maybe your mind was working on the problem while you slept. Your not being able to remember, that is.”

  “Like I was replaying what really happened. Right,” she agreed. “But the episode was short. I thought I woke up and called for you, and then suddenly I knew he was there. I tried to get away, but I only got as far as the door before he snatched me and put this foul-smelling rag in my face.”

  “What about when you left your office building the other night?”

  Concentrating, she could see the deserted street in her mind's eye, could remember wondering if she could even get a taxi that time of night. She remembered other things, as well, as recounted in her sleep.

  She nodded. “That's what happened, just like in my nightmare, he came from behind and covered my mouth and nose with a cloth.”

  “Do you remember anything else? Any small detail?”

  Closing her eyes, Lynn replayed the scene in her head. “I tried struggling.” Then she opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I whipped my head back and hit something hard.”

  “His head?”

  “No. I mean something more that his head. I remember hearing a crack... like the sound of plastic.”

  “Could he have been wearing a mask?”

  Lynn struggled with the memory, but it would go no further. “I-I really don't know. But I don't think so.” Concentrating, she could almost feel the collision. “It had some kind of edge... like the corner on a pair of glasses. That's got to be it. I hit my head against his glasses and must have broken them.” And then she deflated. “Not exactly a great deal to go on.”

  “But it's a detail you didn't have yesterday. It's a start.”

  “Not enough to excite your detective friend.”

  Blade didn't argue with her, merely said, “The little things add up.”

  “Well, then let's hope I remember lots of little details.”

  “Don't pressure yourself and they'll come to you.”

  Considering she'd been drugged through the experience, Lynn somehow doubted she would remember enough to count. She was getting a headache just thinking about it.

  Blade stood and started clearing the table.

  “Let me do that,” she said.

  “No big deal. Maybe there's someone you need to call? Phone's over there,” he said, pointing to the wall near the bed.

  “I'd better check in with work, give them a heads up that I'm taking a few days off to recover. And I'd better figure out what to tell my folks.”

  “What about friends?”

  “My two best friends are on vacation in Hawaii. I doubt they've heard a thing. They asked me to go with them. Too bad I didn't make the time.”

  “Whatever you do, don't tell anyone where you are. Not here, not the club.”

  “What? You think the man who abducted me is going to go to my parents or my office and ask where I am and they'll just tell him?”

  “Better not to leave a trail or you might find a hungry wolf at your door.”

  “Is that some old Indian saying or something?”

  “That's common sense talking.”

  “Fine. I'll play I Spy.”

  As she made the calls, Lynn realized that she hadn't felt uncomfortable with Blade since she'd sat down to the table. He had an undeniable way of putting her at ease.

  An hour later, when he delivered her to Cassandra's place a few blocks away—another third floor apartment, albeit more spacious—she was actually disappointed that he was going to leave and come back for both of them later in time for work. Part of her wished he would stick around.

  She followed Cass from the small foyer through a sparsely decorated living room and into an equally large room probably meant for dining. But Lynn noted a make-up table by the windows and a portable ballet bar along the opposite wall. And then there was the rack of colorful props on the way to the small kitchen. Show business stuff, she thought, remembering Gideon had called her The Amazing Cassandra.

  “Blade won't even know you when I'm through with you,” Cass said, indicating a chair. “Heck, your own mother wouldn't know you.”

  “Um, that's what I'm afraid of,” Lynn said, trying not to hurt the generous woman's feelings. “I appreciate your helping me and everything... but... what exactly did you have in mind?”

  “Wow, you're even more conservative than I envisioned.”

  “I do have a life to go back to and soon. At least I hope so. Just keep in mind that I'm a lawyer with a serious reputation.”

  “One that I can ruin in a matter of minutes.” C
ass paused for a moment before saying, “Lynn, that was a joke. You can laugh now.”

  The best Lynn could come up with was a hopeful grimace. And then she asked, “What do you mean envisioned?” Had Blade been telling Cass about her? When had he had the time?

  “I sort of... have these hunches about people.”

  Lynn did laugh at that. “You mean you're psychic?”

  “I don't like to label myself. I just know things other people don't.”

  Cass was claiming to be psychic, Lynn thought. “What is it you know about me?”

  “That you're a good person. That you've been disappointed by life. That you're not as together as you like to think.”

  Generalities. Lynn smiled again. “Millions of people could fit that profile.”

  “True. And at least thousands have lost a loved one in the last couple of years. But

  they don't all blame themselves.”

  Lynn started. How had Cass known that?

  Not wanting to take the discussion further, Lynn asked, “So what first?”

  “Your hair, of course.”

  Two hours later, Lynn had to admit Cass knew what she was doing. The shoulder-length style with ragged edges would be easy enough to tame with another hair cut when the charade was over. But Lynn thought the flattering silver-blond shade might have to stay.

  “I look like a Kelly wannabe,” she murmured, thinking of the television actress/talk-show hostess. “I like it. Definitely different without being over-the-top.”

  “I'm not done with you yet. But since you don't want anything too wild that's permanent, I'll work a little magic that will disappear with a shampoo.”

  Cass produced a large wand whose bristles were blue and applied it to her hair. Lynn watched as her silver hair took on gleaming blue highlights that framed her face.

  “Now to the make-up. I can cover that bruise easily,” she said, referring to the faint shadow on Lynn's cheek, the reminder of her abductor's cruelty. “Deep plum lipstick and blush and a vivid blue eyeshadow will be dynamite on you.”

  Colors she would never wear in her real life, Lynn thought. When Cass finished the make-up job and a manicure and pedicure with plum polish, she held out a pair of glasses whose small lenses sans frames were tinted a very pale blue.

  “Try these.”

  “But I don't wear glasses.”

  “These aren't prescription. Think of them as face jewelry. They'll make your gray eyes appear to be blue.”

  Indeed, they did. “You're a wonder, Cass.”

  Lynn had to admit that a colleague very well might pass her in the street without ever giving her a second look. Well, without recognizing her anyway.

  She wondered if Blade would like it.

  And then wondered why she wondered. Blade was merely her bodyguard, nothing more. He'd made it quite clear that he wanted nothing more.

  Why did she?

  Cass changed the direction of Lynn's thoughts by saying, “Now I get to play Barbie and change your wardrobe.”

  Lynn anxiously wondered what that meant exactly. While Cass wasn't a small woman, she was model-tall if not quite model-thin. Which meant she couldn't lend Lynn anything. Which meant a shopping spree. Before they left, however, Cass loaned her a couple of bangly bracelets that wrapped around her wrists to hide that reminder of her abduction.

  Then Lynn found herself in a series of boutiques she herself would never think of entering. But she also found herself having fun with free-spirited Cass. And a couple of hours and a long lunch later, she was well contented with a full stomach and several outfits a universe away from her own staid, professional wardrobe.

  As she walked down the street in a blue and silver printed sari skirt that hung low on her hips and swirled around her calves, while a silver-threaded white knit top bared her midriff, she felt a little over-exposed.

  Even more so, when Cass commented, “I think you could carry off a navel ring.”

  Lynn squirmed. “Getting my ears pierced was traumatic enough.”

  “Tattoo? It could be temporary.”

  Lynn glanced in a storefront window and saw nothing of the old Evelyn Cross that anyone would recognize. “I think I'm safe in this disguise.”

  Truth be told, she hardly recognized herself.

  ***

  Blade nearly did a double-take when Lynn opened Cass's door to let him in. He whistled appreciatively. “All that was hiding under your lawyer's disguise?”

  “The lawyer is the real me,” she insisted, though Blade would swear she looked pleased.

  “You're sure?”

  Flushed with soft color, she murmured, “Thanks.”

  If he told her any more directly how incredibly sexy she looked, he figured what had almost happened the night before would stand between them. He'd done his best to put her at ease and wanted to keep it that way.

  Anything more between them was unthinkable, no matter that his imagination had been sparked. He had to forget about what had almost happened and remember why he'd volunteered to play bodyguard.

  “Maybe I should go into the make-over business,” Cass said. “Of course, that would involve licenses. Which means I would have to go to school so that I could do what I already do really well... oh, never mind.”

  “You wouldn't like it anyway,” Blade assured her as the women exited the apartment and Cass locked up. “Instead of being in charge, you'd be at your clients' beck and call.”

  “At least her clients would be safe,” Lynn muttered.

  “You don't know that,” Blade said, taking her shopping bags from her and heading down the stairs. “You don't know what'll set someone off.”

  “Sounds like you have experience in that area.”

  “More than enough.” Blade stopped himself before he revealed information about his past in the military that he didn't intend to share. Instead, he covered. “People seem to view bartenders as their unofficial therapists.”

  “Is that why you're being so generous helping me out,” Lynn murmured.

  Her expression was that of a lawyer trying to figure out the angles rather than that of a grateful victim. The last thing he wanted her to do was to probe too deeply as to his motivation. He chose to practice a little sleight-of-hand.

  “By the way, I tracked down my landlord and made those arrangements for you,” he said as he opened the outside door and stepped into the courtyard.

  “I'm going to have my own bed tonight.”

  Blade noted Lynn's lack of enthusiasm.

  “Uh-oh, too much information,” Cass said, catching up to them.

  “She slept on the couch.”

  “None of my business.”

  But an odd expression crossed Cass's face, as if she knew something she was reluctant to share. Which tied Blade's gut in a knot. His Iroquois grandfather had made him believe that certain people were touched by spirits. People who could see things others couldn't. Though she didn't make a big deal of it, Cass fit that profile. He suspected she knew more about him than he wanted anyone to know.

  They arrived at the club early. Team Undercover settled in the break room to powwow while John Logan photographed Lynn for her new IDs. His attention only half on the conversation, Blade watched his charge smile for the camera.

  Evelyn Cross was an eyeful, that was for certain. A woman that beautiful usually knew it, knew how to use it. Amazingly, she seemed oblivious to the fact, perhaps because she'd hidden her real self in her lawyer persona for so long. He wondered why.

  Why would a woman that stunning downplay herself, as if she were afraid of inviting a man's attention?

  She certainly had his. Blade couldn't keep his eyes off her. Or his thoughts.

  When Logan finished shooting a roll of film, Lynn joined them at the table.

  Gideon said, “I can have new IDs for you tomorrow, Lynn. Any preference as to name?”

  “My mother's maiden name was Parker. Lynn Parker is easy enough to remember.”

  “The Parker part's all r
ight, but let's not make the first name so obvious. How about Melinda Parker? We'll introduce you to the rest of the staff as Melinda, and it won't be a big deal if anyone mistakenly calls you Lynn.”

  “Fine. But what are the chances that the guy who grabbed me will ever get close enough to get a name?”

  “Better to be careful than sorry,” Blade said.

  “I like careful,” she agreed.

  What Blade gathered Lynn didn't like was the idea of working as a waitress.

  When Gideon said, “I'll pair you with one of our experienced wait staff tonight,” Blade saw a look of displeasure cross her features.

  On the one hand, he could understand her reluctance to take on a service job for tips when she made a healthy living as a lawyer. On the other hand, what choice did she really have if she wanted to stay safe?

  “Fine,” Lynn said. “Cass mentioned something about a uniform.”

  “It's not all that bad—a black skirt and a fancy halter top,” Gideon told her. “Cass knows where to find them.”

  “Great,” Lynn said without enthusiasm but followed Cass out of the lounge without further complaint.

  “Is she going to work it?” Gideon asked.

  Blade turned back to his employer. “She's motivated. And scared.”

  “Nothing we can do about the scared part.”

  “I'm keeping her close.”

  “That you are. The question is...” Gideon turned his full attention to Blade and asked what he hadn't before when he'd agreed to take Lynn on. “... why?”

  “It's personal.”

  “I already gathered that. I'm just hoping it's not so personal you make mistakes.”

  “Too late. I've already made a big one.”

  One that had altered his life. One that he was desperate to right.

  “So, this is what?” Gideon asked. “A do-over?”

  “You could call it that.”

  Though the thing he feared most was that no matter what he did, short of giving up his own life, it wouldn't be enough.

  ***

  After the photo shoot, Gideon had Lynn follow a waiter around for the whole evening. She noted that while she wore a short wrap skirt and halter top made of a sparkly jewel-tone blue material, the dark-haired young man named Todd got away with a more conservative silk T and black trousers. He was a nice kid, though, and he showed her the ropes, including how to use the computer to place food orders, how to work with the mostly foreign kitchen staff to get what she needed and how to deal with the customers.