YULETIDE PROTECTOR (3 page)

“Oh, sweetie. Surely not everything.” Loretta crossed the room to squeeze her daughter’s hand. “You were always such a sensitive child. And after this nightmare—”

“Mother.” Just because she’d never been called on to deal with something like this before didn’t mean she couldn’t. Bailey pulled her hand away. “I’m twenty-six years old, not a child. I can do this. I need your support, not a lecture to talk me out of doing it.” She thumbed over her shoulder toward the empty lineup room. “If I don’t stand up against that man now, then I’ll be his victim all over again—and for the rest of my life.” Her hand turned into a fist as angry tears stung her eyes. “And he doesn’t get to win.”

Jackson came up beside Loretta, draping an arm around her as he squeezed Bailey’s shoulder. “We understand that this is part of your recovery, dear. But one of the hardest things in the world is for a parent to see her child suffer. Be patient with us. We’ll support whatever you decide. Just know we love you and that we’ll be here for you.”

As the tears welled up in her mother’s eyes, Bailey sniffed back her own. She nodded her thanks and turned to Dwight. “Anything you ask,” she vowed. “Anything Ms. Parker asks, I’ll answer it. It can’t be any harder than knowing he could go free to do the same thing to another woman. I want to feel safe again. I want him rotting in prison.”

With a curt nod, Dwight packed his briefcase. “So do I.” He latched it shut before shaking Bailey’s hand. “I’ll see you Monday morning at the courthouse when the trial begins, then. With your testimony, I’ll have a guilty verdict by Christmas. And Brian Elliott will never celebrate another New Year’s with his family and friends. Chief Taylor?”

“Thank you, Miss Austin, for being so courageous.” The police chief shook her hand, too, before reaching behind him to open the door. “I’ve got a roll-call meeting to get to. I’ll have an officer walk you out.”

“I’ve got it, sir.” A tall detective with crisp, golden-red hair straightened from the wall across the hallway where he’d been leaning. Without a wasted motion, he buttoned the front of his steel-gray suit jacket over the badge and gun belted at his trim waist. “Miss Austin.”

Bailey halted in the doorway as her eyes locked on to Spencer Montgomery’s cool granite gaze. He was a decade her senior, with nothing boyish about him to soften his chiseled, unreadable face. He was an old family foe who’d investigated her brother’s illegal activities—meaning that most of their past conversations had put one or the other of them on the defensive, as he grilled her with questions or she did what she could to protect her family. But, as leader of the KCPD task force, he’d turned those same dogged, calculating investigative skills to solving the string of crimes committed by the Rose Red Rapist. That made him the one man most responsible for Brian Elliott’s arrest. And for that, he would always be her hero.

Still, Spencer Montgomery was probably here to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake in identifying his suspect, that she hadn’t screwed up his year-long investigation. Despite an innate appreciation for his mature intelligence and faintly military bearing, Bailey’s pulse rate went on wary alert. “Detective Montgomery.”

“If you have a moment, I’d like to talk to you.”

Judging by the grim line of his mouth, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like whatever he had to say.

Chapter Two

She’d cut her hair.

Spencer noted the change in Bailey Austin’s appearance—noted that the short, sun-kissed waves made her look a lot more grown-up than he remembered. She’d always been pretty, but the changes he noticed today made her...interesting. But just as quickly as he decided he liked the new look, he dismissed the revelation.

Any latent attraction he had to the woman was irrelevant. The last time he’d seen Bailey, she’d been in a hospital bed, beaten within an inch of her life—the victim of a violent rape by the man his task force had eventually identified and arrested, entrepreneur and real estate developer Brian Elliott. He should be content to see the bruises gone and the vibrancy back in her azure-blue eyes instead of noticing the leaner curves beneath the wool slacks and cashmere sweater she wore and the way those sculpted wisps of hair gleamed like spun gold, even under the fluorescent lights of the precinct hallway.

No, he couldn’t notice those things at all. He was here to do his job. Period. And if that job included babysitting a fragile debutante-in-distress from Kansas City society, then so be it.

Besides, Chief Taylor was clapping him on the shoulder, demanding his attention. “You’re going to see this job through to the bitter end, aren’t you, Spence.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I knew there was a reason I made you point man on the task force.” Mitch Taylor might be graying at the temples, but the man was still the powerhouse of the Fourth Precinct. He was the boss whose recommendation could make or break a promotion. Spencer respected the dedicated cop who’d worked his way up the ranks at KCPD. And since his goal was to do the same, getting asked to do a favor for the boss was an opportunity he didn’t intend to squander.

“I appreciate the faith you had in us, sir.”

“Your work isn’t done yet,” the chief reminded him, referring either to the outcome of Brian Elliott’s trial or the task force’s ongoing search for the Rose Red Rapist’s accomplice—a woman they’d dubbed The Cleaner because of her efforts to destroy evidence and take out witnesses to Elliott’s crimes. “You remember our chat yesterday?”

I
want you to check in on Miss Austin from time to time
.
Make yourself available to her in case anything comes up that could spook her out of testifying against Elliott
.

“I do.”

Spencer had walked out of Chief Taylor’s office understanding his mission. The Cleaner hadn’t shown up on their radar since they’d made the arrest and the rapes had stopped. But then Elliott had been under KCPD’s watch 24/7 from the moment his ex-wife had posted bail. Their vigilance might have driven the accomplice underground or out of town—or maybe whatever sick relationship the woman shared with a serial rapist had failed now that he was no longer able to commit the crimes that had terrorized Kansas City for several years. Or, as both Mitch Taylor and Spencer suspected, the woman could be biding her time, waiting to make some big move to
save her man
again.

Until The Cleaner was identified and put out of commission, Spencer intended to keep his task force on full alert. Scoring a few points with the boss along the way couldn’t hurt, either.

The chief gestured to the group filing out of the look-at room behind Bailey. “I take it you know everyone here?”

Spencer nodded. While he couldn’t claim to be friends with anyone in Bailey’s entourage, they were certainly well acquainted. “We’ve met several times. On this investigation and the Rich Girl Killer case.”

“You closed that one for me, too.” Mitch Taylor praised him before winking a brown eye at Bailey. “I leave you in good hands, Miss Austin.” The chief turned and hurried down the hallway after D.A. Powers. “Dwight, wait up.”

While Bailey hugged her purse and coat to her waist, waiting expectantly for him to explain why Chief Taylor had asked him to chat with her, a protective force of allies circled behind her.

Loretta Austin-Mayweather’s disgusted snort was audible, her blue eyes unforgiving. “Jackson, please. I’d like to go home. I have nothing to say to this man. Bailey, come.”

Yes, he’d brought the Rich Girl Killer murder investigation to their home, and had been obligated to interrogate each and every one of them. And though Bailey’s brother, Kyle Austin, hadn’t ultimately been the murderer Spencer had sought, he
had
been guilty of other crimes, including embezzlement, stalking his own stepsister and kidnapping. And the real killer, who hadn’t appreciated a copycat using his M.O., had ultimately murdered the Austin heir while he’d been in prison.

Since Spencer had no children—no family at all, to speak of—he supposed he couldn’t truly understand a parent’s loss of a child. He could only play whipping boy and hold back the reminder that without KCPD’s intervention, the entire Mayweather family might have fallen victim to Kyle Austin’s desperate actions and the killer who’d threatened them.

“Detective.” Jackson Mayweather’s acknowledgment was more civil, but clearly the man had a meeting to get to, or an eagerness to defuse his wife’s displeasure, because he looped his arm around Loretta’s shoulder and started down the hallway. “Come along, dear. I’ll have the driver meet us at the front door.”

“Bailey.” Loretta practically clicked her tongue, calling her daughter to join them.

Despite a deep sigh that indicated she was schooling her patience, Bailey simply smiled and turned her head. “Detective Montgomery is the leader of the Rose Red Rapist investigation. He probably needs to discuss something with me.”

Harper Pierce, a tall, blond piece-of-work who’d stonewalled more than one KCPD investigation with his legal acrobatics, placed his hand at the small of Bailey’s back. “Then he can make an appointment. Let’s go.”

Before Spencer could evaluate the way his own body braced at the proprietary touch, Bailey arched her back away from the other man’s hand and sent Pierce on his way. “Would you mind looking after Jackson and Mother? I know she’d appreciate the extra arm to lean on.”

“I’m not leaving you with—”

“Please, Harper. Go.” Her melodic voice lost its sweet tone and her body seemed to hug itself around the orange coat she clutched. So she didn’t like to be touched? Was that an aftereffect of the rape? Or was it that she just didn’t want her ex-fiancé putting his hands on her?

Flashing a suspicious eye toward Spencer, as if
he
was somehow to blame for the dismissal, Harper relented. “I’ll hold the elevator for you.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Bails—”

“I’ll walk her to her car,” Spencer volunteered, eager to send the others on their way. That’d give him a few minutes of private time with Bailey to have the conversation Chief Taylor wanted him to have with her. Then he could get back to some real work.

“How did you know I drove myself?” Bailey arched a golden eyebrow as she turned her attention back to him.

Spencer dropped his gaze down to the keys dangling from her fist and grinned. Easy deduction. “I
am
a detective.”

A responding grin eased the strain on her mouth and relaxed some of the tension from her posture. “So you are.” The gentleness returned to her voice as she spoke to her parents and ex-fiancé again. “You all go ahead. I need to get back to my apartment and organize my portfolio for the job interview I have tomorrow, anyway. It’ll save you a stop.”

“Can’t you put that off until another day?” Loretta sounded more irritated than hurt by her daughter’s excuse to leave them. “The Butler-Smythes are coming to dinner tonight, remember? Their son Cameron is just home from his trip to China. You know he was sweet on you back in school, and I thought—”

“I can’t, Mother.” A rosy hue tinted Bailey’s cheeks, indicating the level of impatience or distress she was keeping in check at her mother’s efforts to plan her evening and her life. “I have errands to run before I go home. And I’m still fixing up my apartment. I want to finish painting the trim around the windows tonight.” Spencer would have stopped with a solid
no,
but Bailey threw in a bit of logic to salvage her mother’s feelings. “Besides, you know I’m not feeling terribly social right now. If you want me to make an appearance at your holiday gala this weekend, I need to save up my social energy to face all those people. Deal?”

Loretta’s dramatic sigh indicated her daughter had finally come up with an excuse she could accept. “I suppose it’s a fair tradeoff. I do want you at the Christmas ball. I can guarantee yeses to every invitation if our guests know you’ll be there.”

Spencer felt himself bristling on Bailey’s behalf. The young woman was gearing up to testify against her rapist—to face the man who’d nearly killed her—across the short distance of a courtroom. And her mother was worried about matchmaking and society fund-raisers?

Although the tension crept back into her posture, Bailey continued to smile when her mother came to give her a hug. “Please give Cam and his parents my regards, but I won’t be there.”

Loretta’s cutting gaze swept over Spencer as she pulled away. Then she brushed Bailey’s bangs off her forehead and straightened the angel pendant hanging around her neck. “Very well then. I’ll call you tomorrow about the Christmas Ball.”

Bailey nodded. “I’ll talk to you then.”

“Call me if you need an escort to the ball.” Bailey stiffened when Harper leaned in to press a kiss to her temple and Spencer felt a protective urge make him stand straighter. And even though she managed a smile before Pierce followed Loretta and Jackson Mayweather down the hallway, it didn’t last.

“I apologize for my family and...” she thumbed over her shoulder “...my attorney.”

“They’re understandably protective of you.”

“Smothering is more like it.” She unfolded the coat she carried and flipped it around her shoulders. “Happy holidays, Detective. I hope you’re well.”

“What?”

Her mouth relaxed with a soft giggle, probably at catching him off guard with the friendly chitchat. “It’s customary when someone issues you a greeting like that for you say something similar in return.”

“Oh. Right.” When she juggled her keys and purse to shrug into her coat, Spencer decided to test his no-touch theory. He pointed, alerting her to his intent before moving behind her to hold her coat. She paused for a moment before thanking him and sliding her arms into the sleeves. After settling the collar up around her neck, he smoothed his hands across her shoulders and patted her arms. It was Pierce’s touch she hadn’t liked. Or maybe being touched without being asked first. She wasn’t skittish with him standing behind her. She hadn’t frozen up. Maybe she was going to make a calmer, more reliable witness than Chief Taylor thought. “Happy holidays, Bailey.”

What the heck? Spencer popped his grip open and stepped back when he realized he was still holding her shoulders, still breathing in the faint citrusy scent of her hair, still feeling her warmth.

And did she just shiver when he pulled away? Was that a soft gasp he heard? She’d liked his touch. Or, at the very least, she hadn’t minded his hands lingering on her.

There were times when possessing his finely honed eye for detail sucked.
Think job
,
Montgomery
.
Forget the woman
.
Forget the attraction
.

You know what hell that will lead you to
.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his tone more brusque than he’d intended.

“Are you worried I’m going to screw up all your hard work?” Bailey slipped her purse onto her shoulder, inhaling a deep breath before turning to face him. They stood close enough now that she had to tilt her face up to see his. Good grief, her eyes were blue.

A pair of pretty brown eyes, buried deep within his memory, suddenly surfaced in his mind, blurring his vision. Spencer blinked away the vision before the pain could follow. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks and strolled a few steps toward the main room at the end of the hall, pretending he was still on his game. “Chief Taylor wanted me to run through some safety precautions with you—make sure you’re all ready to go for Monday, or whenever you get called to the stand.”

“So you
are
worried. You don’t think I’ll go through with this, either, do you?”

The accusation stopped him in his tracks and Spencer turned. “This is an important case, Bailey.”

“It’s important to me, too.” She shoved her keys into her pocket and faced off against him. “Everyone thinks I’m going to freak out on the stand or run away and hide somewhere. But I have to do this. There has to be a reason why this happened to me.”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed at the emotion staining her cheeks. If she got worked up arguing with him, how was she going to handle it if Kenna Parker tried to rattle her on the witness stand? “That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself.”

“Yes. But I can handle it.”

He pulled his hand from his pocket and tapped the fingers fisted around the strap of her purse, silently arguing her cool-under-fire argument. “Have you ever done anything like this before? Have you ever bared your fears and soul and worst nightmare in front of the man who made you afraid?”

“No. Of course not, but...”

He let the reality of what they were asking of her set in, and watched her cheeks pale and her gaze drop to the center of his chest. “This is going to get messy before it gets done. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“You’d think I’d have at least one person cheering me on and bucking up my confidence instead of telling me all the reasons why I can’t or shouldn’t do it.” She tilted her chin up, venting a mixture of temper and frustration. “Since you’ve been so obsessed with catching this guy, I would have thought you’d be in my corner. But you’re as much of a doubting Thomas as anybody else.”

“I’m not the kind of man to give pep talks, Bailey.” As Bailey’s voice grew louder and more animated, Spencer’s hushed, articulating every word as he dipped his head closer to hers. “There’s a lot that can happen between now and when you’re called up to that witness stand. Besides you ‘freaking out’ and deciding not to testify, there’s a possibility Brian Elliott’s accomplice may do something to try to stop you.”