VIP Protector

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “For Stella?”

  “For Evelyn Cross.”

  What an odd answer, she thought. Not for you but for Evelyn Cross. As though he was speaking of a person who wasn't there, as if her name was more important than she herself was. He probably meant the public persona, the lawyer who aided the defenseless, even if they didn't have money. He hadn't told her much about his mother and sister, so for all she knew, he was relating to something that had happened to one of them.

  Though she couldn't explain why, somehow his protecting her felt personal. Personal to him, that was. Odd. She didn't feel like questioning him about it.

  Nor did she feel like thinking too far into the future, even though more and more she wondered if it really mattered that they had only a like need for justice.

  Could that possibly be enough on which to build a relationship?

  It seemed not and yet she felt so lost every time she thought about her abductor being caught and put behind bars. Then she and Blade would have no reason to continue seeing each other. It bothered Lynn that she couldn't even fathom life without him.

  Breaking into her thoughts, he said, “Stella set up a uniform to keep an eye on Wheeler's movements at the Daley Center. But, considering Wheeler's a detective with the Chicago Police Department, he'll be watched from a discreet distance.”

  “Then all my bases are covered.”

  For some reason, Lynn would put more trust in Blade himself than in some cop she'd never met.

  A short while later, they'd parked the jeep and were crossing Daley Plaza on foot, when a familiar figure disengaged himself from the gigantic metal Picasso sculpture where he'd been talking to another man, just as if he'd been waiting for her arrival. His silver hair seemed to bristle as he marched toward her. He might be older than the other suspects, but as always, he appeared to be as fit as a thirty-year-old.

  “That's Victor Churchill,” she murmured and felt Blade's arm go around her.

  As he got within earshot, Churchill said, “Imagine you showing your face in public, Evelyn.”

  “You have a problem with that?” Blade gave her an encouraging squeeze.

  “New boy toy?” Churchill asked with a sneer. “Bad choice. This one's not going to get you into the North Shore Yacht Club.”

  Though she was insulted for Blaze, Lynn snapped, “I can get myself there if I so desire.”

  Churchill laughed. “You'd do that, wouldn't you? Put yourself on display, give the guy who gave you what for the finger.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The guy who kidnaped you. He did the men of this city a service trying to take you out. I would shake his hand if I could, Evelyn. And then I would ask him why he didn't finish the job.”

  Laughing, Churchill moved off. And a distraught Lynn stood there gaping, then caught at Blade's arm as he seemed about to go after the bastard. One look at her and he froze, but she could see concern hardening his features.

  Knowing she had to get herself in the right frame of mind for court, Lynn tried to make light of the incident. “And I was worried about Wheeler... but Churchill's probably all talk. A man like that wouldn't really get his hands dirty.”

  “He could pay someone else to get what he wanted.”

  She shook her head. “No. It was personal. The man who grabbed me wasn't doing someone else's dirty work.” Though she didn't remember much, the pure animosity of her captor hadn't escaped her.

  Getting through Daley Center security went smoothly and Lynn led the way to the correct bank of elevators and up to the scheduled divorce court. Julie Wheeler was already waiting in the hallway, and her soon-to-be-ex-husband seemed to have her cornered. Heart thumping at the prospect of having a face-to-face with another suspect on the heels of her encounter with Churchill, Lynn tried to push away the fear as she went straight up to him.

  “There's a restraining order charging you to stay away from your wife, Mr. Wheeler.”

  He whirled on her so fast that her heart jumped. Sparks seemed to fly from his eyes at her. “You know what you can do with your court order!” he snarled.

  “Perhaps you should tell that to the judge and get his opinion.”

  “Bitch!”

  Hands balled into fists, Wheeler stepped toward Lynn threateningly, and her heart raced right up into her throat. But before she had a chance to move away, Blade stepped between them.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “If you touch either of these women, I'll be your worst nightmare.”

  “Your name!” Wheeler demanded.

  “Blade. And I can be as deadly as that sounds.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Do you need to be threatened?” Blade asked quietly. “Because I can be more specific. I can elaborate on how I spent nearly a decade in—”

  Lynn gripped his arm and stopped him from going on. “Don't test that court order again, Mr. Wheeler, or I'll have you arrested.”

  Wheeler's eyes blazed with hatred. But apparently Blade's presence kept him from issuing a direct threat. Or maybe it was his lawyer rushing to intercept him, a frantic expression pulling at his jowly face.

  “Thank you, Evelyn,” Julie said as her husband was pulled away by his lawyer. “Don't let your guard down, though. It's easy to see how much Roger hates you, and he doesn't let hate go easily.”

  “It doesn't seem that he treats people differently if he hates or loves them. I'll see what I can do about making sure he gets counseling.”

  “It won't do any good,” Julie said, shaking her head. “Nothing will.”

  Lynn remembered Julie telling her that her husband had been put in an anger management program by the department, but that he had made it look good while flipping off the therapist behind his back.

  Considering his position in the Chicago Police Department, Wheeler's disregard for authority was especially concerning. And yes, he'd beaten offenders and bragged on it, and he'd threatened his wife with the same, had bullied her and their kids into submission for years.

  But did that make him a potential killer? Did that make him a man who would abduct a woman and torture her by issuing death threats? Lynn simply didn't know.

  She refused to let her indecision about Wheeler's innocence or guilt affect her court performance, however. And in the end, she got what Julie wanted in the custody agreement, at least on surface. Roger Wheeler would not be able to see his children unless he agreed to counseling, and only after the therapist decided his children would be safe could the custody issue be revisited.

  “I don't know how to thank you,” Julie said afterward.

  “Just take care of yourself. Stay safe.”

  Eyes averted, Julie mumbled, “You, too,” as she walked away.

  Making Lynn wonder again about Roger Wheeler. Did his now-ex-wife believe that he was the offender in her case?

  “Good job,” Blade said.

  “I hope so. And I hope Wheeler's not the one. If he could abduct me and threaten me with death, what might he do to the woman who spurned him?”

  A chill shot through her and she shuddered. Blade lightly wrapped an arm around her back. The warmth of his palm breached the thin material of her suit jacket. With him at her side, she felt safe.

  As they walked through the halls, lawyers she knew greeted her, a few women giving Blade a thorough once over and her a look of envy. Biting back a smile, Lynn couldn't help herself. She moved into him possessively.

  They had just skated around a janitor mopping the floor when suddenly an attractive redhead flew at them and grabbed Blade's lapels.

  “My little girl,” the woman gasped. “She's only seven and she wandered off. Have you seen her?”

  “Sorry, can't say that I have.”

  “I only turned away for a moment!”

  He looked around. “You'd better find security.”

  The stranger tugged at his lapels harder. “Help me, please!”

  Blade gave Lynn a what-do-I-do-now expression.

  �
�Help her find security,” Lynn said. “It'll only take a minute. I'll be in there.” She indicated the nearby ladies' room.

  Though he didn't look happy, Blade nodded and turned the woman in the other direction.

  Lynn headed for the entryway of the restroom only to see the Closed for Cleaning sign. As she started to turn away, a push from behind shoved her straight inside.

  “Hey!”

  She caught herself against a wall and started to turn back, but whoever had pushed her was there, pressing up against her.

  A man.

  Then the truth came to her, made her lose her breath, when he whispered into her ear: “You should stay out of other peoples' lives, Evelyn. Interfering isn't healthy.”

  Lynn froze and what felt like a brick in her throat made it impossible to say anything, impossible to breathe. This couldn't be happening to her, not again, not in a public place, not with a bodyguard.

  A bodyguard who'd conveniently been distracted, a part of her mind registered.

  Another woman had helped this bastard get to her?

  Outraged, Lynn came to life trying to swing, but the villain had one hand tangled in her hair and the other around her body so that she couldn't move... couldn't see what the man looked like.

  A choked sound barely left her mouth before a rag shoved into her face cut off the rest of the scream.

  “...you need to be taught a lesson, Evelyn…”

  Lynn swayed as the memory fragment tangled with the present. Her head was already going light. Knowing she would be unconscious in seconds if she didn't fight it, she held her breath against the fumes and tried to rip her head away. Still he held her fast, a steely arm around her body, pinning her elbows to her sides as he shoved her forward.

  Acting on instinct, she kicked backward as Blade had taught her, but her balance was shaky, and her heel slid off his shin instead of making contact with his knee. While he grunted, the kick didn't stop him.

  Before she could regroup, she had to gasp for air and her head went even lighter.

  “...you destroyed my world...”

  Another fragmented memory.

  She held her breath as her abductor propelled her forward. Her flaying feet kicked the Closed sign, sending it skittering against the wall as the bastard forced her into the empty restroom.

  Removing the rag from her mouth and nose, he whispered, “I don't want you unconscious, Evelyn. I want you to know exactly what's happening to you.”

  He shoved her into a stall and down hard onto her knees. Sharp pain made her cry out. That and the toilet bowl looming closer.

  “I want you to know what it feels like to die, Evelyn,” he whispered, “and know that no one and nothing can save you this time.”

  “What?” she mumbled and then thought feigning unconsciousness might be her best choice.

  She let her weight drop back against him, but he wasn't fooled. He renewed a tight grip on her hair and shoved her face forward and down so that she was faced with the bowl of water and realized he meant to drown her in it.

  Whoever he was.

  Roger Wheeler seeking instant retribution?

  “No!” she cried weakly.

  On her knees with him pressed up behind her, she was helpless to use any of the techniques Blade had taught her. She struggled and turned her head, felt water slap against the side of her face.

  “Don't bother fighting it.” He released pressure for just a second and she sucked in air and a whiff of toilet bowl cleaner. “You can't hold your breath long enough.”

  And while holding her breath she couldn't scream, Lynn thought as the water rushed up at her, but what choice did she have?

  She closed her eyes tight and resisted all she could, fought the gag reflex that threatened her even though the bowl had been newly cleaned. She reached back with one hand, searching for a hold as he sank her head down and halfway into the water. Fingers finding purchase on the soft flesh of his inner thigh, she pinched him as hard as she could while water covered her forehead... closed eyes... nose…

  When she heard a scream, she imagined it was her own voice echoing through her mind.

  But suddenly the bastard released her and flew back. She pulled herself free of the toilet bowl with a gasp and spray of water.

  Another scream... not his, but a woman's!

  Gagging and wiping at her tightly closed eyes with her jacket sleeve, Lynn shoved herself out of the stall. She opened them just in time to see the back of a janitor's uniform before the bastard fled out the far door.

  The woman who'd screamed rushed at her. “I didn't know. Honest!” she cried. “Are you okay?”

  The redhead who'd distracted Blade, a horrified Lynn realized.

  Then suddenly Blade was there in person.

  Before he could help her up to her feet, Lynn gasped, “Go! That way!” and pointed to the door on the other hall. She could take care of the redhead. Even as she added, “Janitor's uniform,” he was gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Fighting his instinct to stop and take Lynn in his arms and make certain she was unharmed, Blade shot after the man who'd taken her, and on his watch.

  Another mistake.

  How many could he make?

  Thank God the bastard hadn't killed her.

  He flew into the corridor and looked around. Dozens of people milled about him. No sign of a man in a janitor's uniform, but he spotted a cop.

  Rushing him, Blade said, “Ladies' room. A woman was attacked.”

  Even as the cop raced toward the restroom, Blade plowed through the crowd, head turning, gaze searching, but not finding the one thing he sought. He stopped and changed tactics. Turned in a circle.

  All to no avail.

  “Janitor!” he yelled, as though he were crying fire. “Anyone seen a janitor?”

  Most people ignored him, a few gave him odd looks, but one elderly woman said, “There.” She nodded toward the emergency stairs.

  “Thanks.”

  He rushed into the stairwell, mind racing. Up or down? How many floors?

  Stopping, he closed his eyes and focused inward as first his Iroquois grandfather and then his Special Forces training had taught him to do. The slight scrape of a leather sole against cement whispered up to him from below.

  Then Blade was off, taking two stairs at a time, using the railing to launch himself around corners and jumping down to landings.

  When he caught up to the bastard, he'd have to control himself so that he didn't break his damn neck for abusing Lynn. He could almost see his prey now—glimpses of gray uniform assured him he was gaining on the bastard.

  Only two floors separating them... one and a half... one…

  Lynn's attacker moved fast.

  Blade moved faster.

  With only a handful of stairs between them, he launched himself at his prey's back and brought him down hard, face down. Now he had the bastard! But as Blade grasped onto his shoulder to spin him around, the man tore a bottle from his uniform and sprayed.

  Liquid flooded Blade's eyes and made him cry out. When he threw up his hands as though he could stop the burn, the villain shoved an elbow into his gut and propelled him to the side. Blade fell back, smacking the heeling cut on his calf against a stair. Catching himself, he tried to open his eyes and to focus to no avail. He barely caught the back of the gray uniform before squeezing lids tight again.

  The bastard's laugh was followed by the snick of a door opening and closing.

  Blindly trying to follow, Blade cursed long and loud.

  Once more, the villain had escaped.

  ***

  “You're lucky he didn't blind you permanently,” Stella told Blade after they settled into a conference room to go over the details of the attack. “You should have let him go and stayed with Lynn. That was the agreement.”

  “I had him,” Blade growled, sounding as disgusted and frustrated as Lynn was feeling.

  They'd been prepared, but her abductor had gotten to her again anyway. The
y'd both had physical contact and yet neither had seen his face.

  Now Blade was looking at her with a sorrowful expression. Lynn knew he felt guilty because he thought he'd let her down. But he hadn't.

  Lynn swallowed hard. Despite Blade's immediately flushing out his eyes with cool water as indicated by the instructions on the cleaner bottle left behind, they looked alarmingly red to her. The paramedic who'd checked him had applied some kind of drops and said he'd be okay. She'd been checked over, too, though all she'd needed was to wash her wet hair and skin with antibacterial soap. Just thinking about having her head shoved in a toilet creeped her out.

  Stella settled her rear at the edge of a desk and said, “Miss Tara Crane claims some guy she didn't know paid her fifty dollars to play a prank on a friend.”

  “I believe her,” Lynn said. “She did scream for help. She seemed freaked. And sorry.”

  Though Lynn didn't know if she could forgive the young woman, she didn't want Tara Crane to be another victim of the bastard who'd almost killed her.

  “Unfortunately, Miss Crane's description isn't much better than yours.”

  “What description?” Lynn asked, disgusted that she hadn't gotten so much as a glimpse of the man's face.

  “Exactly. Your attacker wore a billed cap and sunglasses with the janitor's uniform when he approached her. He kept his head down and his voice low, no distinguishing accent or phraseology.”

  “Well, it couldn't have been Roger Wheeler, right?” Lynn asked. “Since you had a uniform tailing him.”

  “About that.” Stella cleared her throat and pulled the pencil free of the twist of hair at the nape of her neck. “It seems the officer got distracted and lost him within minutes of your leaving the courtroom.”

  The information was like a cold splash of water in the face. “Then he could be the one.”

  “I'm afraid so.”

  “Or Victor Churchill,” Blade mused.

  “How's that?” Stella asked.

  “He was here today,” Lynn said, remembering the man's animosity toward her. She told Stella all about the not-so-chance seeming meeting. “But Wheeler's got to be the one. It all fits.”

  Stella didn't take her up on that. Instead, she said, “I wonder what our other boys were doing at the time. If we could actually place Rincon or Cooper for sure, that might eliminate a suspect or two.”