VIP Protector

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Blade asked, “So you spoke to someone who knows where Johnny was last weekend?”

  Leroy laughed. “Yeah, I know, a Corvette's slung low and rides fast... kinda like a woman.”

  “You're saying Johnny was with a woman?”

  “That's what I hear.”

  “Then you couldn't confirm that?”

  “Afraid not. I couldn't get those specifications.”

  Reading between the lines, Blade said, “No one actually saw Johnny around with this woman last weekend. Supposedly he was holed up somewhere doing the horizontal mambo.”

  “That's exactly right. I'm not really sure about this one, though. But I'll keep checking on it if you're still interested.”

  Not wanting Leroy to court any more trouble, Blade said, “Drop it. You've done enough.”

  “Well, if you're sure I can't interest you. Good luck elsewhere, then.”

  His mood darker than before, Blade made his way back to the bar only to find Stella there, waiting for him. He poured her a beer and set it down on the bar before her, just as Lynn joined them.

  “How is the investigation going?” she asked Stella.

  “The team has run through the list of suspects and we were able to catch up with all but the guy who went out of the country. I can't say I'm impressed with any of these jerks. But they all have alibis.”

  “Including Johnny?” Blade asked, watching for Lynn's reaction.

  But when Stella said, “Especially Johnny,” Lynn's reaction was neutral.

  Whatever she was thinking, she was keeping it to herself.

  Stella added, “Three of his boys say they were in an all-night poker game on Saturday.”

  Blade shook his head. “Not according to Leroy.”

  “Leroy? You involved Leroy? You know how many mouths that guy's feeding?”

  “I told him to drop it. But according to him the word is Johnny was holed up with a new squeeze all weekend. And yet, no one saw him with or without a woman.”

  “Well, well, well.” Stella grinned at him. “This may the nail in Johnny Rincon's coffin, at last.”

  “Wait,” Lynn said. “You think he's the one?”

  “Unless he comes up with an alibi.”

  “Listen, Star,” Blade interrupted, “Johnny is more dangerous than ever. Let someone else handle—”

  “Whoa, no lectures, Blade.”

  “He's good at that,” Lynn said.

  Stella's smile was gone, replaced by a tough visage. “I'm not Star any more. I'm not a kid. And you're talking about my job here. I've been wanting to nail that bastard on something for a long, long time.”

  Even though he knew she was right, Blade felt his gut tighten at the thought of her confronting their old nemesis head on. “Just don't tell me not to worry. And promise me you won't do anything without back-up.”

  “Deal.”

  His old friend's agreeing made Blade feel better.

  He and Lynn told her about their afternoon recording session, off the record and without involving Logan. Lynn off-handedly said she'd found the recording set-up in a shop down the street, and Blade was happy to see that she was keeping the team's existence under wraps.

  When he informed Stella that Lynn planned on going to court the next day, she promised to see what she could do to alert security in the Daley Center.

  A guy at a nearby table waved frantically for attention, and Lynn went off to get his order, leaving Blade alone with Stella.

  “What's new with you?” he asked.

  She grinned. “How can you tell?”

  “Well, I couldn't, but I can now. What's his name?”

  “Hugh Keaton.”

  “He must be treating you right.”

  “We just ran into each other earlier today. Literally,” she added. “Outside the cop shop. And as a matter of fact, I'm going to meet him now. We have a late date.”

  Blade arched a brow. “Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

  Stella's smile widened as she slipped off her stool. “That leaves a lot of wiggle room.”

  “You can tell me just how much tomorrow.

  ***

  On her break, Lynn decided to make some calls and Gideon told her to go ahead and use the telephone in his office.

  She made herself comfortable at the desk, which included slipping off her high-heeled sandals. A shoe maven, she had to admit her collection wasn't meant for waitressing, and she had a moment's regret that she hadn't gone out and bought something sensible. Rubbing a sore spot with one hand, she used the other to call her office number again.

  No whispered messages.

  Relieved, she placed a call to Julie Wheeler and reconfirmed the next day's court date and reassured the nervous woman that she would be there and fighting for her one hundred percent.

  Then she switched feet and phone numbers, this time calling home. Her girlfriends had somehow found out about her ordeal and had called from Hawaii expressing their concern, but they hadn't left a number where they could be reached.

  And her stalker seemed oddly silent.

  She should be happy, so why did the fact make her uncomfortable?

  What was he up to?

  Trying to put her own situation out of mind, she dialed her parents' number. As always, her mother answered.

  “Hey, Mom, how is it going?”

  “Everything is fine, honey.”

  That her mother didn't sound fine immediately put Lynn on edge. “What's wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Mo-o-om!”

  “Nathan is here.”

  “Again?” She didn't have to ask why. “You haven't given him Dani's address or phone number, have you.”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  Which meant she'd given him something. “But you told him she's in London, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don't tell him anything more, Mom, please, not until I can speak to Dani myself, make sure she wants Nathan to be able to find her.” When her mother didn't answer, Lynn closed her eyes. “Let me speak to Nathan.”

  “All right.”

  She heard her mother call him to the phone. Trying not to let herself get upset, she flexed her ankles and toes and thought about soaking her feet when she got home.

  Then Nathan said, “Evelyn.”

  She was glad to hear caution in his voice. “Nathan. I wanted you to know that I thought about our conversation.”

  Voice tight, he said, “And?”

  “And I decided that I would call Dani and talk to her for you.”

  He laughed and sounded relieved. “Hey, you won't be sorry, I promise.”

  “But whether or not she wants to talk to you is up to her.”

  “I get that.”

  “In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you didn't press my parents for information. It's not fair to them.”

  Silence.

  “Nathan?”

  “Yeah, okay, I'll back off,” he agreed.

  But she could tell he wasn't happy about it. She supposed he was simply anxious.

  “When are you going to call Danielle?”

  She checked her watch. It was past midnight London time, but her sister had always been a late-night person, and when she did go to bed, she always turned off her phone and let voice mail pick up.

  “I'll call tonight, but I'll probably have to leave a message.”

  “Great. Thank you. I know if you tell her how hard I'm working to get her back, she'll want to hear from me.”

  Actually, she didn't really know since she hadn't spoken to his therapist. And at the moment, the idea of doing so was out of the question.

  “I'm not making any promises.”

  “Right. It's up to Danielle. I get that.”

  “Good. Let me speak to Mom again.”

  “Mother Cross…”

  Slipping her shoes back on, Lynn winced but somehow convinced herself her feet felt a bit better.

  A moment later, her mother came back on line. Lynn asked
about her father, then once again pleaded with her mother to keep Dani's council.

  True to her promise, Lynn then tried Dani, charging the call to her own phone. But the voice mail was turned on, so she left a message, telling her sister all about her conversation with Nathan.

  And before she hung up, she added, “Listen, Dani, I've been thinking that maybe I got a little too involved in your marriage. Maybe gave you some bad advice. I probably should have stayed out of it. I'm really sorry.”

  With that, she hung up, her hand trembling on the receiver.

  “Bad news?”

  She whipped around. “Blade. I didn't hear you come in.”

  “What's wrong?”

  “Nothing to do with my abduction,” she was quick to assure him. “Family stuff.”

  “I'm a good listener.”

  “Thanks.”

  But she didn't particularly want to admit her feeling of culpability in her sister's divorce. That would bring up a whole bag of worms that she would rather keep buried.

  Luckily the phone rang. “Maybe you ought to get that.”

  Blade picked up. “Club Undercover.” He listened for a moment, then gave the caller directions.

  Giving Lynn a chance to escape without having to answer more questions.

  ***

  Blade couldn't help wondering what was bothering Lynn, but since it was a family matter, which he equated with private, he chose not to press her.

  Not that he had a chance at work anyway.

  The club was full, the dance floor packed with bodies gyrating to the music and the giant video images on the wall screen behind them. The drinks were flowing, not only from the main bar but from the VIP bar up at street level. Customers were coming from all over the city and the suburbs, as well, to check out Club Undercover. Having seen the steady incline in business over the last several months, Blade knew that Gideon had a hit on his hands.

  It was no wonder that when they left the club in the wee hours, Lynn seemed exhausted and barely able to walk.

  “You're limping.”

  “These shoes weren't made for walking. At least not waitressing. I think my blisters have blisters.”

  “Maybe a trip to a shoe store is in order.”

  Lynn simply groaned and stopped a moment to slip them off her feet. With what sounded like a relieved sigh, she walked the rest of the way to the car barefoot.

  When they got home, Blade immediately drew a tub of water and told Lynn to soak as long as she liked and to let him know when she was done.

  “And let me know if you need your back scrubbed,” he added through the door.

  Her answer was another groan and a splash as she slid into the tub.

  For a moment, he imagined her soaping up with him there to do her back... he imagined that leading to other, more intimate touching... imagined him joining her in the tub and…

  That's where he put a hold to his imagination, where the name Cross lit up his mind. Where the image of the woman dead, killed by him, took over.

  He could still see her slender body, face down on the street, blond hair hiding her features.

  He'd known then, at that exact moment, what a mistake he'd made. A moment frozen in time for him, as fresh in his mind as if it had just happened. A moment that might have gotten him killed if one of his buddies hadn't tackled him. As it was, he'd already been wounded, the reason he'd spun around, gun firing when he'd heard a sound behind him, only to hit an innocent woman who'd walked in on the raid.

  He'd spent weeks in recovery. Weeks with nothing to do but think while the authorities covered up the carefully planned Black Ops mission gone bad. Weeks with guilt eating at him until he knew he couldn't go on, could no longer work in Special Forces, couldn't think about ever again hurting an innocent person.

  His military career had been over.

  And nothing had ameliorated the guilt. Not until now... maybe... if he could keep Lynn safe.

  The bathroom door opening brought him back to the present.

  “I'm done,” she said, poking her head out. “Did you want me to start water for you?”

  He blinked at her and for a moment saw her sister. Then he shook away the imagining and said, “Thanks, no. How are the feet?”

  “A little better.”

  “Come on in here and I'll work on them.”

  “A foot rub?”

  She sounded simultaneously cautious and pleased.

  “I have some salve here guaranteed to cure what ails you.”

  Still a bit tentative, she came into his quarters dressed in a nightshirt that stopped right above her knees. The soft material clung to her curves and all the damp spots she hadn't toweled dry.

  Mouth going dry, he averted his eyes and said, “Sit.”

  “Where?”

  “Couch.”

  After fetching the salve from the bathroom, he sat next to her and indicated she should swing up her legs. He placed her feet in his lap. Then he opened the jar and released the scent of wild flowers. He slathered the cool paste on to one foot, then the other. She was looking with curiosity at the jar in his hand.

  “No label,” she said. “What is it?”

  “Something my Iroquois grandfather taught me to make when we went on a quest together.” He smoothed the salve over the top of her left foot. “We walked for a week, and the only way I got through it was to use his special concoction.”

  When he got to the toes, he massaged the ball of her foot and worked his way down to the heel. Her foot quivered under his ministrations and he was hard-pressed to keep his mind on what he was doing rather than on what he would like to do.

  Lynn sighed. “If I can walk pain free, I'm going to start calling you Mr. Folk Medicine.”

  “It works,” he assured her, his voice tight from the contact. No matter his will, he wanted to work his way back up, past her ankle, around her calf, over her knee... “We can't have you limping to court tomorrow.”

  He started on her right foot.

  Groaning with obvious pleasure, she said, “It's not court I'm worried about.”

  “You should be worried.”

  “I have you to worry for me,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed. “And to guard my body.”

  He wanted to do a lot more to her body than guard it. He wanted to touch every inch of it, starting with those long legs and working his way up to her hips.

  His turn to groan. No reaction from Lynn, thankfully.

  She was asleep.

  ***

  “...poison to a relationship...”

  Lynn stirred and protested half-heartedly.

  “...don't know what it's like... never a man of your own...”

  In the half-sleep of dawn, Lynn faced her abductor, but his features were a blur. She was dreaming... awakening... fighting to go down deeper.

  “...deserve to die...”

  His whisper echoed farther away as she came fully awake with a gasp.

  It took her a moment to orient herself.

  Gray light spilled through the windows, casting deep shadows around the room.

  Blade's room.

  Though he'd left her on the couch, he'd placed a pillow under her head and had covered her with a sheet.

  He'd taken care of her. Again.

  Rising so as not to wake him, she slipped into the bathroom. And as she closed the door again, she heard a final whisper in her head.

  “Until we meet again...”

  Chapter Ten

  Lynn had never been this nervous going to court since her first case. She was wearing her own clothes and had washed the blue streaks out of her hair, then had bound it back from her face, the way she usually wore it to court. Somehow, she still looked different, and it wasn't the lighter shade of blonde, which was hardly apparent in this style.

  So, what was it? she wondered.

  Though she'd always thought of herself as a woman of substance, being abducted had shaken her confidence. But now her determination was renewed, Lynn th
ought gratefully, and she had Team Undercover to thank for that. Especially Blade.

  “Ready?” he asked, flicking his gaze over her lawyerly outfit.

  Whether or not he approved, she couldn't tell. She certainly approved of him. He was wearing tan slacks and a camel jacket. His cream shirt lay open at the throat, revealing an exposure of lightly bronzed skin and the leather pouch he always wore. If she'd found him handsome before, he appeared stunning to her now. He was a beautiful man, she admitted, both outside and in.

  A little breathless, she said, “Ready or not.”

  He held the door for her, and placed a hand in the middle of her back as though he was her escort rather than her bodyguard. Almost as though they were on a date.

  Her throat closed as she thought about it. About him. About them together.

  What was going on with her? She'd never obsessed over a man, not even ones with whom she'd slept.

  A thought that opened a can of worms for her.

  She'd been perfectly willing to sleep with Blade that first night, her attempt to make herself feel better. He hadn't been willing to sleep with her. And yet she knew he was attracted to her. She saw the way he looked at her, at times the smoldering glance of a man who was imagining pleasuring her.

  She tightened her thighs as liquid pooled from her center. Sliding into the Jeep's passenger seat only intensified the sensation, especially when he got in beside her.

  Giving Blade a quick glance—no, he couldn't tell how perturbed she was—Lynn tried to get her mind off him and impossibilities.

  Once on their way, she said, “Security is tight at the Daley Center.”

  “Good.”

  She was remembering the knife she'd seen strapped to his leg, when she said, “I was actually thinking about the metal detector.”

  “Don't worry, I won't hold you up.”

  He wasn't wearing a weapon. Not that it bothered her. Lynn was certain Blade could take care of her just fine without external aid.

  “Being held up isn't what worries me,” she said. “I just don't want to be the cause of any trouble for you. Rather any more trouble,” she amended, thinking of how she'd disrupted his life.

  “You're no trouble. And I'm glad to do it.”