Bodyguard Under the Mistletoe (12 page)

As Mickey rode by, he waved with both hands. “Look at me, Mommy. I'm riding.”

“I see.” She waved back.

Jesse watched Fiona and Abby. They looked good on horseback. Fiona's long brown hair in the loose ponytail tousled in the breeze as she urged Chip into a trot, then slowed to a walk, then reined to a stop. The mare responded to her directions. It had been Butch Thurgood's job to train these animals, and he'd done his job well.

“It takes work to run a horse ranch,” Jesse said.

“And money.” Belinda leaned her shapely hip against the corral fence. “I know Nate means well, but I worry about having Mickey visit him unsupervised. A ranch like the Circle M can be a dangerous place if you don't keep a careful eye on a child.”

“It's not the ranch you're worried about.”

“You're right,” she said. “It's Nate. There are times when he's so angry I think his eyes are going to pop right out of his head. And he doesn't understand that Mickey's
a little boy who cries when he falls down and doesn't always pay attention.”

“But he cares about his son.”

“His one saving grace,” she conceded. “I'm not sure how Nate is going to react when I get married again.”

In his opinion, she was right to be concerned. Nate had a great capacity for hate. At any given moment, he could erupt. “Is he abusive?”

“He never hit me. Or Mickey.” Belinda waved to her son, who was wriggling on the saddle, impatient with his father's instructions. “But he made me feel like dirt.”

Verbal abuse could be more painful than physical wounds. Belinda was a strong-looking woman with broad shoulders, but she seemed to shrink when she looked at her ex-husband.

“Breaking up with him must have been hell,” he said quietly.

“You have no idea. I had no money. If Fiona hadn't given me a job, letting me move into her vacant house as a caretaker, I wouldn't have had a place to live.”

He remembered something Fiona had told him. “You took out a restraining order.”

“Nate wouldn't leave me alone. He wanted Mickey. Wanted his son.” She shuddered. “Thank God, that part of my life is over.”

Jesse hoped she was right. That Nate wouldn't cause her any more trouble.

After they finished their ride and brought the horses back into the barn, Fiona got a call on her cell. Her exhilaration about her ride with Abby dissipated as she talked.

When she disconnected, she came to him. “That was the sheriff. I need to get back to the house. Right away.”

Fiona slammed the door to her station wagon and stormed toward her front porch. She'd arranged for Abby to go home with Belinda and Mickey because she didn't want her daughter to see what was about to happen.

Clinton had called the sheriff, demanding that he be allowed to search her house for his precious belongings. Both of them stood waiting for her. If Burke hadn't been at her house, they probably would have broken a window and entered on their own authority.

As she approached, she couldn't decide which of the two men was more hateful. Sheriff Trainer with his unfounded suspicions? Or her stepson with his unfounded demands?

Jesse strode past her, inserting himself as mediator. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. What the hell do you want?”

Clinton straightened the lapel on his tailored Harris tweed jacket and stuck his nose in the air. “We have a warrant to search this house for stolen property.”

“Stolen?” She choked on the word. “In what twisted universe would you think I stole anything from you?”

“My father's property,” he said smugly, “belongs to me and my sister.”

“Do you think your father would be proud, Clinton?” If she'd had Jesse's gun in her hand, she wouldn't have hesitated to drill a neat little hole in the middle of his handsome forehead. “Do you think he'd applaud your greed?”

“You're stalling,” he said. “Like when you accused me of breaking into your house.”

“I'm not so sure you didn't.”

“Don't push me, Fiona.”

When Clinton took a threatening step toward her, she noticed that Agent Burke made a corresponding move. If this confrontation turned physical, she knew that Burke and Jesse would be on her side. A reassuring thought.

But this wasn't their battle, and she refused to hide behind them. The time had come for her to fight. Not for the objects Clinton had listed on his inventory but for her reputation. “I'm not a thief.”

Clinton scoffed.

Jesse slipped his arm out of the sling and flexed his fingers into a fist in a not-so-subtle threat. “I suggest you show some respect to the widow.”

“Settle down,” the sheriff said. “We're here with a legal warrant.”

“Show it to me,” she said.

The sheriff placed the faxed warrant in her hand. Attached was Clinton's inventory. Blinded by anger, she needed a moment for her eyes to focus. “It's signed by a Denver judge. Does he have jurisdiction in this district?”

“That's a valid question,” Jesse said. “I'm sure Special Agent Burke can clear this up with a couple of phone calls to his bosses in the FBI. What is it that you're looking to seize? A Tiffany lamp?”

“And a pink tiara,” she said, glancing at Clinton's list.

“A tiara, huh?” Jesse shot a glare in the direction of the sheriff. “That sounds like a threat to national security. Maybe we should call the NSA.”

Burke juggled his cell phone. “I can start with the state attorney's office. Or the governor. He's a personal friend of Carolyn's.”

“I'm just doing my job,” Sheriff Trainer muttered.

He looked so cowed and miserable that Fiona might have felt sorry for him if he hadn't been so hostile toward her. She stated, “I want this issue settled. Immediately. We have much more important things to worry about than Clinton's petty claims.”

“Like what?” Clinton said.

She focused on the sheriff. “Making sure Nicole is all right. Finding the missing ransom.”

“Not my problem,” Clinton said. “I'm not backing down.”

“I wouldn't expect you to.” Her anger solidified into a hard mass in her chest, blocking her lungs. She had to speak her piece or explode. “Ever since your father died, you and your mother have made your demands exceedingly clear. With the help of your lawyers, you grabbed my house, my car and my bank accounts. But you can never take my most important possession.”

“What's that?”

“Memories.” If all she had left was the remembrance of her years with Wyatt, their love and their happiness, she'd be a wealthy woman.

She paused to inhale a breath. Now that she'd spoken of her pathetic financial condition in front of both the sheriff and Burke, her secret would be common knowledge. Humiliating, but probably for the best. She couldn't
hide the fact that she was running out of money for much longer; soon she needed to look for a job.

She handed her house keys to Burke. “Would you please accompany Clinton while he searches? I'd appreciate if he makes as little mess as possible.”

“I understand,” Burke said. “This won't take long.”

She watched Clinton stalk toward her house. Any hope of reconciliation with that side of Wyatt's family was gone. It pained her to realize that Abby would never know many of her blood relatives.

Jesse stood close beside her, and she was glad for his presence. She'd handled Clinton on her own, but it didn't hurt to have a strong shoulder to lean against for comfort after he was gone.

Sheriff Trainer cleared his throat. “Was all that true? You lost everything after your husband died?”

“Pretty much,” she said. “I have a clear deed to this house, but that's about all.”

“That explains why you moved here.” He took out his cigarettes and tapped the top of the pack. “I didn't understand why a city gal like you would want to live in this cabin. Now I know the truth. You're broke.”

“That's enough,” Jesse said.

“I haven't even gotten started.” He gestured with his unlit cigarette. “There was one thing I couldn't figure out about Fiona and her connection to the kidnapping. I didn't know why a rich woman would get involved. But you aren't rich, are you? You have a motive.”

“So do you,” Jesse said coldly.

“What?” His voice was a squawk.

“That million-dollar ransom is a big motivator. I've got to ask myself, how were the kidnappers always able to keep
one step ahead of the investigation? They must have somebody on the inside. You?”

“That's just plain—”

“The way I figure, you've got a lot on your plate—Butch's unsolved murder, locating Nicole and finding the missing ransom. Yet you made time to personally serve Clinton Grant's warrant. It looks like you're trying to point us in the wrong direction.”

“I've got no leads.”

“Why not?” Jesse asked. “Richter is no genius. He must have left clues. Unless you're covering up for him.”

The sheriff fired up his cigarette. “I don't have to stand here and take this.”

Fiona spoke up. “Then leave. Get off my property.”

Without another word, he went to his vehicle and got behind the wheel.

Her heart was beating faster as she watched him drive away. She clasped Jesse's hand. “Thanks for backing me up.”

“You could have thrown that weasel off your land without my help.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “You're a lot stronger than you realize.”

With adrenaline surging through her veins, she felt strong and capable, felt as if she could take on the world…as long as Jesse was there to encourage her. “Those things you said to the sheriff. Did you mean them?”

“I've got no evidence that points to him, but I'm pretty good at reading people. Sheriff Trainer has a larcenous streak. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that Clinton paid him a little something to come here and enforce that warrant.”

That thought hadn't occurred to her, but it made sense. “And if he took a bribe from Clinton, he might be susceptible to a really big payoff from the kidnappers.”

“Like I said, a million in cash is a big temptation.”

And so was he. His gleaming white smile drew her toward him. If Clinton hadn't been nearby, she would have gone up on tiptoe and kissed the smile off Jesse's face, capturing it for herself.

Worried that she couldn't resist him, she quickly looked away. “If we can't count on the sheriff, we have to investigate on our own.”

“We?”

“You said it yourself. I'm stronger than I look.”

She stretched to her full height—five feet three inches of unmitigated self-confidence. She had no intention of living under a cloud of suspicion. If the sheriff thought she was guilty of working with kidnappers, others might think so, too. And Clinton had been quick to call her a thief.

There was no shame in being broke, but she wouldn't stand for attacks on her character. She was a good person. If it meant tracking down a kidnapper to prove her integrity, she stood ready for the challenge.

 

Jesse was a professional bodyguard, and he knew his business. When the people who hired him wanted to carry their own weapon or show him how they knew enough karate to defeat an attacker, trouble ensued. The client got arrogant and took risks.

As he stood beside Fiona, waiting for Burke and Clinton to emerge from her house, he launched into his standard lecture to clients regarding their safety.

“The reason I'm here,” he said, “is to protect you.”

“And I appreciate that more than you know.”

Her soft gray eyes reminded him of the skies before dawn when the light thinned and the world paused in restful
silence before the new day. Though he acknowledged her inner strength, she was gentleness personified. An artist. A doting mother.

“I don't want you to be physically involved in investigating,” he said. “Your job is to stay safe.”

“But I've already been helping you,” she said. “We searched my property together.”

Apparently, she hadn't noticed his precautions. He'd been armed and alert. Wentworth had been within shouting distance. If he had sensed a threat, he would have stepped forward.

Or would he? Remembering the moment when they entered the barn, he'd been apprehensive. The shadows in that old structure seemed to have form and menace. Instinctively, his hand had gone to his gun. But he hadn't turned back, hadn't returned her to the safety of her house.

A serious lapse in judgment
. It worried him. While focusing on the investigation, he hadn't been an efficient bodyguard. That had to change. Though they hadn't yet encountered a direct threat to Fiona's safety, Richter was still at large. Still dangerous.

Burke held open the door to her house, and Clinton marched through, scowling and imperious at the same time. Jesse guessed that he hadn't found what he was looking for.

“No tiara,” Burke announced gleefully. “We didn't find a single item on the inventory list.”

“Because I don't have them,” Fiona said clearly.

A more honorable man than Clinton would have offered an apology. He gave a sniff and looked away. “My business here is concluded.”

“Fine with me,” she said. “If I
never
see you again, I'll
have no regrets. But don't forget Abby, your half sister. She deserves a chance to know her family.”

Unsmiling, he said, “I suppose.”

“You and your sister are welcome to see her. Any time.”

“Maybe,” he said grudgingly. “Someday.”

As Clinton drove away, Jesse looked up to the sky. There were only a few hours of daylight left. Time seemed to be slipping through his fingers. Today's investigation had filled in a few blanks, but they hadn't made much forward progress.

Jesse wasn't playing to his strengths. He didn't have the logical skills of a detective or the glib cleverness of an interrogator. He was a hunter. If he hoped to find the ransom and learn what had really happened to Nicole, he needed to trust his instincts.

Fiona looked at him expectantly. “What do we do next?”

There was that word again.
We
. “I want you to hook up with Wentworth at the Carlisle place. He'll drive you into town to pick up Abby. Then back here.”

“I don't want to hide,” she said. “I need to be involved. There must be something I can do. Some way I can help with the investigation.”

Everything about her—from the glow in her eyes to the way her expressive hands held out a plea—was an invitation. Dealing with Clinton brought out the feistiness in her; she was ready for action.

“You don't have any experience in hunting,” he said.

“None.”

“And you can't handle a firearm.”

“But I'm a really good observer,” she said. “I have an artist's eye for detail.”

“That's one point in your favor.”

“And I'm good at following orders. I'll do whatever you tell me. Except for stay home.”

He frankly thought the risk was minimal. And he didn't want to disappoint her. He turned to Burke. “We're going to need two horses.”