Bodyguard Under the Mistletoe (15 page)

The world settled slowly around her, and she became aware of night rustlings. The wind rattled the bare branches of the aspens at the front of the house.

She noticed movement among the pine trees near the barn. Then she saw him clearly. A man separated from the shadows. He was moving fast, coming right at her. He had a gun in his hand.

At the ramshackle home of Silas O'Toole, Jesse followed while Burke took the lead. He liked the big FBI agent and thought they made good partners.

Burke was particularly adept at logistics. With a couple of phone calls, he'd found O'Toole's address and arranged for a few ranch hands to drive into town, take their horses back to the stable and provide them with an SUV.

Burke hammered on the door. “Open up. FBI.”

Remembering O'Toole's double-barrel shotgun, Jesse had drawn his weapon. He held it down at his side in his right hand. His left shoulder had begun to ache. If he hadn't been running on adrenaline, he would have been tired.

“Silas O'Toole.” Burke pounded on the door again. “FBI.”

The frame house was midsize, set back from the street on a large front lot covered with dead weeds. An old beat-up sofa sat on the porch. A light shone through a curtained window, and Jesse could hear the television from inside.

The door creaked open. Silhouetted by the dim light inside the house was an old man with wild hair. He wore faded red long johns under baggy jeans that hung from his hips.

Silas growled, “What do you want, Mr. FBI man?”

“We're looking for Zeke O'Toole. Is your grandson here?”

“Nope.”

When he started to close the door, Burke blocked it with his foot. “We need to talk.”

The old man's eyes were tired. His scrawny shoulders slumped. “What the hell has Zeke done this time?”

“Can we come in?”

O'Toole stepped back. “Suit yourself.”

The interior was dingy. A half-eaten sandwich and a can of beer sat on a littered coffee table in front of the television. Using the remote, O'Toole turned off the TV. He flopped into an armchair.

Jesse stood behind Burke, allowing him to ask the questions. “Do you know where Zeke is?”

“Grand Junction, most likely. A couple of days ago, he sold a car. Got cash for it. That money was burning a hole in his pocket. The boy went into Grand Junction to have himself a good time. Ain't nothing wrong with that.”

“When did he sell the car?” Burke asked.

“I don't know. Maybe the day before yesterday. Zeke don't tell me everything.”

“But he lives here,” Burke said.

“When he's between girlfriends, he comes back here. It ain't much, but it's home.”

Jesse figured that the cash payment came from the ransom. After the pickup, Richter rode into town to the gas station, where he took the car from Zeke.

As Burke questioned the old man about his grandson's friends and possible association with Richter and Butch, Jesse felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He took it out. Wentworth was calling.

Turning his head, he answered, “What's up?”

“Somebody came after Fiona.”

A shock jolted Jesse's system. His fingers tightened on the phone. “Is she all right?”

“She's fine.” Though Wentworth's voice was steady, a note of urgency tinged his words. “I didn't see the guy. She said he was running toward her, coming from the barn. He had a gun.”

“Was she outside?”

“She went out the back door. It was only for a second.”

Long enough for her to be shot or abducted or scared to death. What the hell had she been thinking? He'd told her a dozen times that she wasn't to leave the house. He should have been there to protect her.

“On my way,” he said. “I'll be there in less than ten minutes.”

 

F
IONA STOOD AT THE
foot of her daughter's bed and watched her child sleep. The light from the hallway shone on Abby's round, cherubic face and her blond curls. So sweet. So completely innocent.

More than anything, Fiona wanted to grab Abby out of the bed and carry her away to somewhere safe. How could they possibly stay here? The armed man who came running at her through the shadows was a tangible threat—different than hearing voices in the night or assuming there might be danger.

He was real.

The instant she'd seen him, she'd dodged back into the house, called for Wentworth and locked the door. Was it Richter? The kidnapper? What did he want?

Her arms yearned to hold Abby, but she didn't want to pass her terror on to her child. It was far better if Abby
stayed asleep and unaware. Facing the threat was her mother's job. Fiona's job.

Leaving the bedroom door open, she went down the hall to the front room. Her gaze fastened on the closed curtains at the window, and she shuddered. He could be out there, hiding in the shadows, peering inside. She pulled her sweater more tightly around herself.

“Jesse is on the way,” Wentworth said.

“He's not going to be happy. I went outside. I broke his rules.”

“He'll get over it.” Wentworth leaned against the door leading into the kitchen with his gun in his hand. “Jesse never stays mad for long.”

Though she shouldn't have gone out the door, her action had provoked a response. At least, she knew that her suspicions had a basis in fact. Someone was watching her.

From outside, she heard a vehicle approaching.

Wentworth moved to the window and peeked before unlocking the front door.

A car door slammed. In seconds, Jesse charged through the door. So much energy exploded around him that the air seemed to ripple. His eyes were fierce. Without breaking stride, he came toward her. His strong arms encircled her and held her close.

She clung to him for all she was worth. Her tears came quickly. Tears of relief. He was here. Her protector. She was safe. She literally trusted Jesse with her life. He'd never let anything bad happen to her or Abby.

He murmured, “Are you okay?”

“A little scared.”

He stroked her hair. “Do you want to tell me why you went outside?”

“Not really.” She wiped the dampness from her cheeks and looked up at him. “But I will.”

“Okay.”

She owed him an explanation. His instructions about staying in the house had been explicit. “I fired up the kiln in my studio. The room was really hot, and I thought I'd step out for a minute to cool off.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Wentworth. “Where were you?”

“Front room, sitting on my butt and thinking everything was fine.”

“It's okay. Not your fault,” Jesse said.

“By the time I heard Fiona call for help,” Wentworth said, “she was already back inside and locking the door. We both went down the hall to Abby's bedroom.”

With his arm still around her, Jesse escorted her to the sofa in the front room. After he seated her, he spoke to Wentworth. “Agent Burke and two other ranch hands are waiting outside. I'll stay with Fiona. You take charge. See if you can find this creep.”

“And be careful,” she piped up. “He has a gun.”

The door closed behind Wentworth, and Jesse sat close beside her. She snuggled under his arm and rested her head on his chest. His jacket still held the cold from the night, but his body heat warmed his shirt. For a long moment, she listened to the steady beating of his heart.

“Jesse, what am I going to do? I can't stay here. Not with some crazy person running around.”

“You're worried about Abby,” he said.

“Tell me what to do.” She looked up into the depths of his dark eyes. “I trust you.”

Though they were nestled together, his kiss surprised
her. This wasn't a gentle, reassuring kiss. It was hard and demanding. Hot.

Unaware of her movements, she shifted position on the sofa until she was facing him. Her body pressed hard against his chest. There were too damn many clothes in the way. She wanted to be part of him, wanted him to make love to her.

His tongue forced her lips apart, and she welcomed him into her mouth. He exhaled a groan and the sound excited her even more.

When they broke apart, she was breathless and eager for more. She ducked her head and dove toward him, seeking another intense kiss.

“Wait,” he said.

“Why?”

“Think about it,” he said.

She'd been through a long dry spell when it came to sex, and she was thirsty, parched. She licked her lips.

Of course, they couldn't make love right now. The timing was all wrong. Burke and Wentworth were outside but could return at any moment. Abby was sleeping down the hall. And a madman had threatened her with a gun.

“All right,” she said. “Not right now. But soon.”

“I never should have left you here alone.”

“You didn't. Wentworth was here.” She caressed the plane of his cheek. “You've done everything right.”

He lifted her off his lap, returning her to a position beside him on the sofa cushions. “I'm glad you trust me.”

“Why wouldn't I? Longbridge Security is the best in the West.”

“My reputation is no guarantee. You saw what happened to Nicole.”

With a quick peck on her forehead, he rose from the sofa and went toward the kitchen. She followed behind him. “You know how I feel about guilt. There's no point to it. You can't blame yourself for what's happening to Nicole. My God, you almost died trying to rescue her.”

He opened her refrigerator door and took out a bottled water. “I'm mad. At myself. I failed to protect my client.”

And she knew that he wouldn't rest until he found the ransom and Nicole. “Where did the trail lead?”

“To another suspect. Nothing definite.”

He took a long taste of the water, and she watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. He'd been on horseback for hours and had to be exhausted. Only a few days ago, he'd been in a coma and near death. “Are you in pain?”

“Hey, I'm the one worrying about you. Trying to figure out what we should do to keep you safe.”

“I could pack up and move to a motel.” Though she didn't like to spend the money, she wouldn't hesitate if it meant keeping Abby safe. “I hate to tell Abby what's going on. I don't want her to have nightmares.”

“I'll keep two men posted outside your house tonight, and I'll stay inside. We ought to be fine.” He reached toward her. His fingers combed through her hair. “I wish I could promise you that I'd keep you and Abby safe. Wish that I could say I've never lost a client. But it's not true. I've made mistakes.”

“You saved my husband's life.”

In a way, he was saving her, too. Bringing her back to life. Reminding her of what it meant to be a woman.

“Three years ago, I was hired as a bodyguard for the family of the CEO of an oil company. They were vacationing at a private lodge in Telluride. I had two other men with me, expert skiers.”

“Do you ski?” she asked.

“And snowboard. Why does that surprise you? I grew up in Colorado.”

“So, you ski, ride, hunt and are an expert marksman. What about rock climbing and canoeing?”

He nodded. “It's part of the package for Longbridge Security. We protect people who are active in outdoor activities.”

“Is there anything you don't do?”

“I get seasick,” he admitted. “I'm fine on rivers with a canoe or kayak, but put me on the open sea and I turn green and puke my guts out.”

It was nice to know that he wasn't expert at everything. “Sorry for interrupting. Go ahead with your story.”

Before he could continue, there was a rap on the front door. They returned to the front room, and Jesse unlocked the dead bolt to admit Wentworth, Burke and two cowboys from the Carlisle Ranch.

Burke sank down onto the sofa and groaned loudly. “I don't know how you guys ride all day. My butt is killing me.”

Fiona glanced down the hall toward her daughter's bedroom. “Sorry about your butt, but would you all mind moving to the kitchen? Abby's sleeping.”

The men tromped across the floor. Loud as a herd of Angus. Burke groaned again as he sat in a kitchen chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him.

“We didn't find him,” he said. “But there were plenty of signs that somebody has been lurking around here.”

“Did he leave a trail?” Jesse asked.

“After spending the day with you,” Burke said, “I was able to follow his tracks. He went to the driveway, then down to the road. Then nothing.”

Fiona busied herself making coffee. Her supply of healthy snacks had dwindled to a couple of packages of granola bars, which she placed on the table while Jesse outlined the bodyguard schedule for the night.

She stood by the counter, watching the coffee drip into the glass pot, trying to make sense of the situation. She looked toward the five men gathered at her table. An FBI agent. Two cowboys. Wentworth. And Jesse.

“I have a question,” she said.