VIP Protector

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “Timothy Cooper? I don't think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “One, he doesn't wear glasses.”

  “That you know of,” Blade countered.

  “All right. I never saw him wear any. And, second, he never physically abused his wife or kids.”

  “Again, that you know of.”

  “I don't see how Sharon Cooper could have hidden that from me. Besides, she cited irreconcilable differences.”

  “But if you pulled his folder, he must have made some kind of threat, right? Or you wouldn't have included him.”

  “I'm sure he's all talk. He's a chef for heaven's sake.” Lynn's stomach lurched as she recalled the spooky man approaching her outside of the courthouse. “Although he did say he'd like to eat my organs with a nice Chianti.”

  “A Hannibal Lecter wannabe.” Blade whipped up Cooper's data sheet and added it back to the other three. “That's it then, right?”

  “I can't think of anyone else. Before we leave, though, I need to check my calendar and my phone messages in case something important has come up.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She'd barely turned a few pages of her desk calendar before it hit her. “The Wheeler case—I forgot it goes to court on Thursday.” And she highly doubted her abductor would be behind bars by then.

  “Let someone else handle it.”

  “I don't work that way.”

  “Then reschedule.”

  Thinking about Julie Wheeler, how desperate the poor woman was to end the marriage and hopefully feel safe, Lynn shook her head. “I can't. Wheeler's had it put off several times. It would be irresponsible of me to put it off yet again. I have to do this, Blade.”

  Though he glowered at her, he seemed to understand, saying, “Then I'll be with you in that court room.”

  “Thanks. Julie Wheeler would thank you, also, I'm sure, if she knew what was going on.”

  Lynn wrote a quick note to the administrative assistant to the effect that she would be at court on Thursday, and that she was taking the file with her now. After slipping the note in the woman's inbox, she fetched the file and set it with her “research.”

  “Now, let me get to my voice mail and I'll be ready to go,” she said.

  While Lynn dialed in, Blade continued to go over the data sheets on the suspects, as if he were memorizing every detail. His seeming dedication to her situation gave her a confidence she didn't think she would have on her own.

  “Three messages,” she murmured, grabbing up a pen.

  The first was from a client who was angry that her husband wasn't readily agreeing to the terms of child support they asked for.

  The second was from Julie Wheeler, the cop's wife.

  “I'm afraid, Miss Cross. He told me what I could do with the court order, said that he would see his kids any time he wanted. I read in the papers what happened to you. You don't think he...” She started to cry.

  “Whoa,” Lynn said softly. “Let me put this on speaker phone.”

  She replayed the message for Blade, whose expression darkened as he listened.

  “Sounds like this guy's got some real anger issues,” he said. “Stella needs to hear that message. And as to going to court Thursday—”

  “I'm going. This convinces me.”

  Even as she made sure the message was saved, Lynn felt odd sharing so much about a client. “I'm sure it'll be okay with Julie, or she wouldn't have been concerned enough to warn me.”

  Then she played the third and final message.

  “Have you returned to the scene of the crime, Evelyn?”

  She'd forgotten to turn off the speaker phone and the familiar whisper filled the room and raised the hairs at the back of her neck.

  “Or are you picking up this message from some safe place?”

  “My, God, that's him.”

  “No place is safe enough to keep you from me,” the recorded whisper went on. “I'll find you, Evelyn, and when I do...”

  Hearing the click indicating the end of the message, she murmured, “Until we meet again.”

  Hand shaking, she punched in the code to save this message, as well.

  “What does that mean?” Blade asked.

  “It means that he's still planning to kill me. And I need to find a way to defend myself.”

  “You have me.”

  “A fact that I appreciate. But what about when you're not looking...”

  “If it would make you feel better, I can teach you some moves so you can protect yourself.”

  Though she thought a gun might be more effective, she'd always hated them. “I'm a fast learner,” she promised him. Though she abhorred violence, she had to be able to protect herself.

  “Good. Now about the messages.”

  “I have a digital recorder,” she said, pulling out a small one from the drawer that she sometimes used for her work. “I'm going to make copies before something can happen to them.”

  In the end, she replayed the messages and recorded them twice, once for the authorities, once for herself. She hadn't given up on figuring out which man was guilty herself.

  “That's it.” Lynn threw the recorder into her bag.

  Blade indicated the data sheets on the disgruntled exes. “Did you ever report these threats?”

  “Why would I unless I thought the guy was serious?”

  “How many have you thought serious enough to report?”

  “Only a couple,” she admitted. “When nothing ever came of the threats...”

  “Maybe you'd better print up information on the rest of these,” Blade said. “Just in case you underestimated the wrong guy.”

  Feeling as if she were spinning out of control once more, Lynn did as he suggested.

  How many deadly mistakes could she afford to make?

  That thought echoed through her mind as she finished up. She tried to hide her renewed uncertainty, but inside, she had the jitters.

  Her case of nerves didn't dissipate during the elevator ride down with Blade. And they intensified when they stepped into the lobby with its windowed walls to the street. Her attacker could be out there, waiting for her, just as he had been on Friday night.

  “That didn't take long,” the guard observed, sounding surprised.

  Lynn said, “I just needed to get some paperwork.”

  Signing out first, she heard her abductor's whispered voice.

  Until we meet again...

  Not here, not now, she thought, firmly getting herself under control. Any danger was in her own mind. Surely, he wouldn't return to the scene of the crime.

  ***

  The guard had alerted him as he'd been instructed to do. She was inside.

  Waiting in the shadows, he got a glimpse of a woman moving away from the security desk. He started when he saw that she wasn't Evelyn Cross.

  Then he looked again.

  The trappings were different, but the way she moved... besides, who else would be inside in the wee hours of the morning?

  A disguise... how clever of her.

  He had to give her credit. If he'd simply seen her on the street, he would never have recognized her. Too bad her effort to evade him was for nothing.

  She reached the door...

  He started to make his move...

  Then stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the man who was following her. What the hell! She wasn't alone!

  Backing into the shadows, he narrowed his gaze and watched as they left the building, a protective arm encircling her shoulders all the way to the Jeep. She appeared nervous, as well she should. But when she looked around as if trying to spot him, he was like the mist, disappearing into the night.

  He took it all in, committed every detail to memory, controlled his growing frustration and rage.

  She'd called in the reserves. Too bad it wouldn't save her. She was too arrogant to lie low. She would make a mistake and he would be there.

  The Jeep drove off and he whispered, “Until we meet again, Evelyn...” />
  ***

  Lynn was having trouble shaking the jitters. Returning to the scene of the crime had really agitated her. She'd felt him, had imagined he'd been watching her every move, all the way to the Jeep. Ridiculous, she knew.

  Upon entering the studio next to Blade's, Lynn said, “This place is almost exactly like yours. Minus the plants.”

  “And minus the linens. But I have extras,” he said, opening the door to her bathroom, which also looked familiar.

  To her amazement, he walked through the bathroom, opened the door on the other wall and went into his own quarters.

  She followed him but stopped in the doorway. “Um, am I crazy, or is this your bathroom?”

  “It's our bathroom. Dorm-style living. Normally the baths are shared by same sex

  renters, but the landlord made an exception for you since I said it was all right with both of us. Which I assume it is, right?”

  “Ah-huh.”

  Lynn wondered what would possess a grown man to accept such unusual living conditions. No real privacy. Maybe he made so little money as a bartender that he couldn't afford better.

  A thought that made her wonder if she should offer to pay him for his services. She had enough money. Something stopped her, though. She suspected Blade had more pride than good sense in this matter. He was doing a favor for a friend, a good fortune which in turn spilled onto her.

  The last thing she wanted to was to insult him.

  Blade handed her a set of sheets. “The towels are there,” he said, pointing to a stack on a bathroom shelf. “Just remember when you're using it to give me a head's up before you close my door so I don't accidentally walk in on you. And then remember to open the door a crack when you're done.”

  “Right.”

  The set up was odd, her sharing a bathroom with a man, one to whom she was perversely attracted. In a way, the notion of being that close to Blade on a night-to-night basis was intimidating. In another way, she was reassured that if anything happened—if her abductor somehow traced her back to this place—help was just on the other side of a connecting door.

  “It's been a long day. Get some sleep.”

  “I should be sleepy,” she said with a sigh. Unfortunately, she was wired instead.

  “Tea?” Blade suggested.

  “Please.”

  Wondering how she could figure out which of the men was guilty, Lynn followed him back into his living quarters and paced the length of the room, all the while watching him make her what she hoped would be a quick fix. She still had the jitters. Maybe talking would help.

  “I've been thinking about our list of suspects and wondering if I might not be able to do more with that information than Stella,” Lynn said. “Besides, what if she scares off the bastard who abducted me, and he covers his tracks? Then I would get no sense of closure. No justice.”

  “That sounds alarming.” Blade punched the microwave keypad and turned his full attention to her. “What do you have in mind?”

  Under his close scrutiny, she flushed. “Just checking a few things out on my own.”

  Not that she'd figured out how. Not yet. But she was a smart woman. A lawyer. She had resources. There had to be something she could do to help herself.

  “You're not thinking of using yourself as bait?” Blade's expression darkened. “Because if Johnny Rincon was your abductor, you might just disappear again, for good, this time. Leave the cop work to Stella.” The microwave dinged and he removed her mug and added a heaping spoonful of herbs. “She knows how to handle guys like him and she'll have the proper back-up.”

  “You're right, of course.” Though that didn't mean she had to sit back and do nothing. The more people working on this, the quicker the resolution. “I'll call her first thing in the morning.”

  “Good,” he said, handing her the mug. “Now drink up and then get some sleep.”

  Easier said than done, Lynn thought an hour later when she was still wide awake. Deciding that laying in the little alcove was giving her claustrophobia, she moved from the bed to the couch.

  She honed in on her own breathing, tried to use the steady sound to clear her mind of everything. But every time she was about to drift off, she flashed on the abduction.

  You're the one who does all the talking...

  She shifted to her other side and attempted to get comfortable.

  Think about what you've done, Evelyn...

  She hadn't done anything she hadn't been paid for. Or, in the case of women like Carla, asked to do.

  Which had been the most valuable to one of those men? she wondered. His money? His children? Or his simply having a woman to abuse? Which had given some twisted mind incentive enough to abduct her, threaten her, stalk her?

  If only she could remember something more about the abduction itself. Some detail more significant than a pair of glasses that could point her in the right direction.

  What she needed was a good night's sleep. Then maybe she could think more clearly. But apparently, it wasn't to be.

  The newest message roiled over and over in her head.

  No place is safe enough to keep you from me...

  She drew her knees up to her chest and made herself small, as if that would keep him from finding her.

  Until we meet again...

  Unable to help herself, she focused on the event, on her abductor's voice. She concentrated, tried to hear what he was saying to her. Tried to pick up some clue.

  ... after what you made me lose...

  ... deserve whatever you get...

  Fragments of accusations and threats, nothing more. Nothing new. Nothing that told her what he had lost.

  Wife, children, money—which was it? Was she dealing with a man of great wealth? A man who was hand-in-glove with the authorities who were supposed to help her? Or a man who'd lived his life breaking the law?

  Or could it be a crazy chef who wanted to make cannibal appetizers out of her? she wondered grimly.

  What the heck was wrong with her? Why couldn't she turn it all off and sleep? That tea had worked wonders the night before, so why not tonight? Or maybe the security of having Blade so close had been the magic ingredient.

  She told herself not to be such a dolt, that Blade was practically in the next room, right on the other side of a couple of doors that she could easily open.

  As she tried to settle down, tried to make her mind a blank so she could sleep, the thought plagued her—safety was just a few steps away.

  Rising from the couch, she took those few steps. The rooms were dark, but her eyes had grown accustomed to the shadows, so she didn't hesitate until she stood in the bathroom and realized her heart was pounding, no doubt because she would feel foolish if he knew what she was about.

  Settling it in her mind that she would take that chance, she slipped into Blade's room, stopped and listened for a moment. The soft snore coming from the alcove told

  her that he was fast asleep. And then she heard him roll over and the snoring faded into a sigh of contentment that made her smile.

  Feeling safer already, she curled up on the couch and listened to the melodic sough of his breathing. Within minutes, her eyes grew heavy and she felt herself drifting...

  ... until insistent light attacked her lids and she opened her eyes to daylight.

  Well, dawn, anyway.

  Slowly it came to her that she was on a couch. Blade's couch. Time to get back to her own room.

  Concentrating, she listened for any sound from her protector. Nothing.

  Now what? What if he was laying there awake, knowing she had crept into his room like some coward?

  With a sense of dread, she peeked over the top of the couch to the alcove where Blade lay, dead asleep. He was on his stomach and the sheet was twisted so that it barely covered his butt. One cheek peeked back at her.

  No underwear.

  Flushing, she tore her glance away from the fine sight and attempted her getaway. Though she tried not to make a sound, she heard Bla
de stir, and just as she reached the bathroom door, she glanced back to see him roll over. The sheet didn't come with him.

  Her mouth went dry and she stared for just a moment. How could she not when such potent masculine beauty was open to her gaze.

  Lynn felt her body responding to his and then realized she was engaging in a horrible violation of his privacy.

  Ashamed of herself, of the arousal she felt for someone who had no interest in her—he'd made that very clear the other night—she whipped into the bathroom and crossed back into her quarters.

  The last thing she needed was for Blade to quit on her in disgust. He was her link to the real world. To sanity. To safety.

  She didn't know what she would do without him.

  Horrified, Lynn realized how quickly she'd come to depend on a man and only hoped she never had reason for regret.

  Chapter Six

  Blade and Lynn arrived at his local gym a few hours later. Though the place didn't appear to be upscale, it was freshly painted and the locker rooms were in good order. Over in one corner of the main gym, a couple of guys were sparring. And in another, a young woman was attacking a punching bag.

  Taking possession of a matted area in the middle, Blade told her, “The human foot is made up of twenty-six bones tied together by ligaments.”

  “And I need to know this why?”

  Lynn suddenly wondered if this wasn't a mistake—her getting this close to Blade, potential physical contact being involved—and wishing that they'd successfully reached Stella Jacobek. Instead, they'd had to leave a message for the detective, telling her where they would be.

  “The toughest bone, the least likely to sustain damage, is your heel,” Blade explained. “You can use it as a weapon against the weaker bones of your assailant's foot.”

  “You mean just try to stomp him.”

  “Yep.”

  Her stomach curled at the thought of inflicting violence on anyone, even someone with bad intentions. “I needed to come to a gym to learn that?”

  “You have to know what you're doing first. Practice makes perfect. C'mon over here and turn around.”

  Wearing a pair of spandex shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt that showed off his perfect musculature, Blade was too dangerously tempting for her peace of mind. But how could she avoid him after she'd agreed that he should teach her to defend herself?