Bodyguard Under the Mistletoe (9 page)

She sensed that she wasn't alone.

Shadows seemed to take solid form. From the loft overhead, she heard a scuffling noise. She aimed the beam at the rough wooden staircase leading to the loft. What if Richter came charging down those stairs?

She'd be a fool to stand here and wait for him. Gathering her courage, she ran for the door and burst outside into the fresh sunlight.

Jesse was walking toward her. He immediately picked up on her mood. “What's wrong?”

“It's nothing.” Only an overactive imagination. She held up the flashlight. “Found it.”

“If you saw something, Fiona, you need to tell me. Anything out of the ordinary might be a threat. Or a clue.”

“I got spooked.” She shrugged. “The barn is kind of creepy with all that old discarded equipment. I should just get rid of it all.”

“You could sell it.”

The thought hadn't occurred to her, but it was a good idea. “You're absolutely right. There might be someone who'd pay for a broken-down snowplow.”

“That's a project for another day.” He took the flashlight from her. “Let's see what's under the studio.”

Inside, he'd found an access point—a trapdoor that he'd already opened. Jesse took off his cowboy hat and slipped his arm out of the sling.

She watched as he climbed down into the crawl space and disappeared. Peeking down, she saw the flashlight beam slashing through the darkness. She asked, “Do you see anything?”

“Boards and braces. Nice solid construction.”

She stroked the brim of his hat. The dark brown felt was weathered but not worn-out. Tied around the crown was a leather thong with two turquoise beads at the end. Another totem? She recalled the small pouch he carried in his pocket and smiled. Even a bodyguard like Jesse felt the need for reassurance and protection.

He emerged from the hole. “Nothing down there. Not even a raccoon's nest.”

“Too bad. I was hoping for a quick solution.”

Instead, they could cross this building off their list of places to search. Jesse raked his hair off his forehead and slapped his hat back onto his head. “Next, the barn.”

Halfway across the backyard, he paused and looked past the house toward the driveway. Following his gaze, Fiona saw a truck approaching her house. “It's Nate Miller.”

“Any reason for him to be here?”

“None at all.”

Jesse hustled toward the front of the house, coming around the corner in time to confront Nate Miller as he left his truck. “Can I help you?”

Nate squinted under his battered flat-brim hat. The skin on his pointed jaw was red and nicked as if he'd shaved with a dull razor. His clothes were clean, and his jeans were ironed with a crease down the front. It appeared that he was trying to make a good impression. For Fiona? Did the handyman have a crush on her?

Unsmiling, he stuck out his hand. “Don't believe we've met. I'm Nate Miller.”

Jesse accepted the handshake. “Jesse Longbridge.”

“You're the fella who got shot. The security man. Glad to see you up and around.”

Though Nate had offered proper condolence, his tone was offhand and insincere. He had something else on his mind, which didn't matter to Jesse because he had an agenda of his own. He wanted to take a look around at the Circle M, and that property belonged to Nate.

Fiona joined them. “Hi, Nate. Jesse is staying with us until this trouble is over.”

“I suppose that's a good thing. A young woman like you shouldn't be alone when there are dangerous men on the loose.”

His comment might have implied an interest in her, but Jesse didn't get that sense. Nate's gaze darted nervously; he barely noticed Fiona.

“Thanks for your concern,” she said. “Did we have an appointment?”

“Nope. I was just thinking that maybe I could take Mickey off your hands. For an hour or so.”

As soon as he mentioned his son's name, Jesse understood why Nate had cleaned himself up and shaved. He was on his best behavior—anxious to show Fiona that he was trustworthy, capable of taking care of his son.

Nate continued. “Since Logan and his people got arrested, the Circle M belongs to me again. I got eight horses that belonged to Logan. I'm paying to board those animals, and I figure they might belong to me pretty soon. I bet Mickey would like to see those ponies. And Abby, too.”

“That's very thoughtful,” Fiona said. “Have you okayed this plan with Belinda?”

“She won't mind.” A note of anger tainted his voice. “We don't need to bother telling her.”

“No bother.” Fiona pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket. “I'll just call the café and make sure that—”

“Don't bother.”

As Nate's hand shot out to stop Fiona from punching in the phone number, Jesse reacted. He caught Nate's wrist midair and gave a sharp twist, spinning him around.

Nate recovered his balance. A sneer curled his lower lip. Underneath his veneer of polite behavior, he was angry. “I didn't mean any harm.”

“I know.” Jesse had positioned himself in front of Fiona, protecting her from Nate's hostility while she called his ex-wife. “If I thought you'd meant to hurt her, you wouldn't be standing.”

“You're pretty damn sure of yourself.”

“With good reason.” Jesse wasn't bragging, just stating the truth. He was a trained protector. Even with a bum shoulder, he could handle Nate Miller. “You share custody with your ex-wife?”

“That's right. I usually have Mickey on weekends. But not this last one. Belinda took him into Grand Junction to stay with her parents overnight.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt. “The way I figure, I should have some extra time today. Belinda owes me.”

“It must be hard. Being separated from your son.”

“Damn right. Mickey needs to be with me. A growing boy needs his father's influence. Know what I mean? I should be showing him how to do chores, how to fish, how to hunt.”

“Hunting? He's only four.”

“You can't start too soon. I was helping my pappy brand steer when I was only six. It's my God-given right to show my son these things. My right, damn it.”

He was bitter, anxious and a little bit obsessive. Though Fiona thought Nate was a good parent, Jesse saw a darker side to this possessiveness. He wondered how far Nate would go to be with his son.

He tucked that concern into the ever-expanding puzzle surrounding Nicole's kidnapping. “I suppose you've heard about the missing ransom.”

“You bet I have. That's one of the reasons I moved back to the Circle M as soon as the sheriff's men gave the okay.”

“Have you been searching?”

He gave a sly nod. “A million dollars would change my life.”

“You'd have to return the money,” Jesse said.

“Finders, keepers. The Carlisles already have too much damn cash. Dylan wouldn't miss a million. That's chump change to him.”

That wasn't the way the law saw it, but Jesse didn't bother pointing that out. He wanted Nate's cooperation. “I'd like to take a look around at the Circle M.”

Nate's jaw tightened. Offering hospitality didn't come naturally to him. “I suppose it would be all right. Just don't bring any of those damn Carlisles with you.”

Fiona rejoined them. “Belinda says thanks but no, thanks. She's a little concerned that Mickey might be getting an ear infection so she wanted him to stay inside.”

“She's coddling the boy. Turning him into a sissy.”

“Hold on, Nate.” When Fiona touched his arm, he barely kept himself from flinching. “Belinda said she'd stop by the Circle M with Mickey when her shift is over.”

“Fine. I'll be waiting.”

He turned on his boot heel and went back to his truck. Jesse watched as he drove away. “That's one angry man.”

“But you see what I mean? He's crazy about his son.”

Crazy
being the relevent word
, thought Jesse.

 

A
FTER
N
ATE'S SURPRISE VISIT
, Fiona wanted to check in with Wentworth and the kids before they did any further searching. If Mickey had noticed his father's truck, he might have questions.

On the phone, Belinda had been adamant about refusing to let Nate take the kids. She'd argued with her ex-husband about the weekend visit to her parents, which had actually
been a chance for her mom and dad to meet her new boyfriend. He and Belinda had been living together for six months, and marriage was in their future. Another bone of contention with Nate.

Wentworth opened the door, wearing a tinfoil crown.

“Nice hat,” Jesse commented as he entered.

“I'm the king,” Wentworth said. “King of the Wild Prairie. And these are my two ponies.”

Abby and Mickey trotted toward them, bobbing their heads and making whinnying noises.

Fiona chuckled. “What wonderful steeds!”

Mickey bared his teeth and snapped at her fingers. Apparently, he was a carnivorous breed of horse.

“Here's the magic part,” Wentworth said. “I pat them on the head. Poof. They turn into kids.”

Playing the game, Abby immediately dropped the horse act and gave Fiona a hug. “Where were you, Mommy?”

“Jesse and I were out back, looking around.”

“Looking for what?”

Fiona squatted so she was eye level with her daughter. No way would she frighten Abby with stories of kidnapping and ransom. Neither would she lie. Picking her words carefully, she said, “There might be something hidden on our property. It's about as big as that coffee table.”

A frown puckered Abby's forehead. “Is it in a secret hiding place?”

Fiona realized that she might be encouraging her daughter to go on a treasure hunt. That was the last thing she wanted. “This is a grown-up problem. Jesse and I will take care of it.”

Abby glanced toward Jesse, then back at her mother. She seemed unconvinced. “What if you can't find it? What if you need me and Mickey to find the secret place?”

Did she know about the ransom? A chill crept up Fiona's spine. She hated to think of her daughter being connected in any way to these horrible crimes. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Mickey whinnied and pawed the air with his hands.

“Got to run,” Abby said. “Run like the wind.”

As her daughter galloped down the hall with Mickey at her side, Fiona rose slowly. “She knows something.”

“She does,” Jesse agreed. “Mickey, too.”

Abby had immediately mentioned a secret hiding place. Usually, she and Mickey were outside, racing around. It was entirely possible that they'd discovered many things that Fiona knew nothing about, including some kind of hidey-hole.

Convincing her daughter to open up wouldn't be easy. Abby could be intensely stubborn.

“I'll talk to her,” Jesse offered.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Why would she tell you if she won't talk to me?”

“You're her mother. Abby's secret might get her in trouble with you, and she doesn't want that. On the other hand, I'm just some guy who gave her a turquoise stone. No threat.”

Fiona certainly didn't see him as nonthreatening. The way he'd manhandled Nate in the front yard had been quick, efficient and a little bit scary.

And there was an even greater threat. Jesse knew how to shatter the wall she'd built around her heart to protect herself. When he looked at her with those deep-set eyes, she had the urge to unburden all the thoughts and emotions she usually held back. Within an hour of meeting him, she'd confided details about her financial situation that she
hadn't told anyone else. Last night, they were even more intimate. After knowing him for less than a day, she'd been kissing him. Oh, yes, he was dangerous. A huge threat to her self-control.

But she was certain that he didn't mean to hurt her or her daughter.

“Go ahead and talk to Abby.” She turned to Wentworth. “So, Your Royal Highness, how about a cup of coffee?”

“If you're buying, I'm drinking.”

He followed her into the kitchen, removed his crown and sat in the same chair he'd used for breakfast. He rested his elbows on the tabletop as she poured two cups. Remembering that he took his with milk and sugar, she placed both on the table within easy reach.

“Have the kids been driving you crazy?” she asked.

“Playing king is a whole lot more fun than hanging around in the hospital waiting for Jesse to wake up.”

“He seems to be recovering quickly.”

Wentworth stirred the milk into his coffee. “It takes more than dying to keep Jesse down.”

She didn't like to think of Jesse dying, being summoned to the hereafter by his grandfather. After one sip of coffee, she set her mug down on the table. “If you don't mind, I should get these dishes done before it's time to make lunch.”

They'd never installed a dishwasher at the cabin. Though they had a good well, water was a precious commodity in the Colorado mountains, and she tried to practice conservation, teaching Abby about the three
R
s. Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.

One half of the double sink filled with sudsy water. The other half was for rinsing.

“How long have you been working for Jesse?” she asked.

“Almost five years. And I've known him since high
school in Denver. He was a couple of years older and didn't pay much attention to me back then. I was friends with his younger sister, Elena.”

“The office manager for Longbridge Security,” she recalled. “Is she like Jesse?”

“Oh, yeah. She's tough, and she's smart. Went to law school and passed the bar exam on her first try.”

“I know a lot of attorneys in Denver.”

“Elena's more than a lawyer. She's an excellent markswoman. And she can kick my ass in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Tough and smart.” Fiona was intrigued by the idea of a female version of Jesse. “How else is she like her brother?”

“They both like to be the boss. It makes things real interesting when they're together.”

His grin made her think that he cared about Elena. “Is she your girlfriend?”

The smile wilted. “Just friends.”

“Don't give up on her.” Fiona turned back to the dishes. “It takes some women a while to get warmed up. Relationships happen in all kinds of surprising ways.”

Like the feelings she had for Jesse. The electricity that raced through her when they touched. Her fascination with his chiseled features. If anyone had told her that she'd move to an isolated mountain home and find a man who attracted her, she wouldn't have believed them.

She glanced toward the kitchen door. “Why do you think it's taking Jesse so long?”

“Interrogations take time.”

“Interrogation? He's not going to pressure my daughter, is he?”

“Don't worry. Abby will be fine. She's a persuasive kid. Hell, she got me to wear a crown and play king.”

Jesse strode into the kitchen and came up close beside her. In a low voice, he said, “You have to promise that you won't be mad at Abby.”