Cavanaugh Judgment (7 page)

And, she had a strong feeling as they exited, neither one of them was very happy about this state of affairs, either.

Chapter 5

“S
o how is this going to work?” the judge asked her once they were in her car and she was pulling out of the parking structure. “Do I check with you before I take a breath?”

Greer kept her eyes on the road as she exited onto the street. She supposed she could understand his sarcasm. In Kincannon’s place, she’d probably feel the same way.

No, she corrected herself, not probably, she would
definitely
feel the same way. She’d never liked restrictions and living with a bodyguard was the very definition of being restricted. But then, he’d chosen this career. No one had forced it on him.

“No,” she replied mildly, acting as if he’d just asked her a legitimate question, “how many breaths you take or don’t take is entirely up to you.”

She heard him sigh. A glance in his direction told her he was staring out the windshield and frowning.

“You know this is completely unnecessary, don’t you?” he said.

Anyone who could orchestrate a successful escape from a courtroom was a man to be reckoned with—and not underestimated. If Munro wanted to enact his revenge against the judge, then the judge needed serious protection.

“Sorry, Your Honor,” she answered, “but I don’t know anything of the kind.”

“I know how to defend myself, Detective O’Brien,” he informed her, his impatience barely contained.

She pretended she didn’t hear the annoyance in his voice. “Good, then this shouldn’t be a difficult assignment for me.”

He tried again. He knew she was only doing her job, but there was no point in doing it with him. “My father was a marine.”

At least you knew your father.
Sparing him another glance, she forced a smile to her lips. “So you said. And I’m sure he was an excellent one.”

It didn’t end there. “The point of my reference,” he told her caustically, “is that he insisted on teaching me self-defense.”

She eased her vehicle into a right turn. She had a tendency to turn sharply and she didn’t want him complaining that her driving was making him ill on top of everything else.

“Did he also teach you how to catch bullets with your bare hands?” she asked mildly.

“No.”

She nodded at his reply. “Then I’m afraid you need me.”

“Why?” he wanted to know. “Do you catch bullets with your bare hands?”

“No, but I have a gun—” Greer began. She no longer thought of him as the man whose wife she couldn’t save. She was now beginning to regard him as a judge who was a pain in her anatomy.

“So do I,” he cut in.

Greer was tempted to pull over, but the sooner she got him home, the sooner they would be out of this confining space.

She sighed. “Judge, this is going to go a whole lot easier for both of us if you stop fighting the inevitable.” Stepping on the gas, she just made it through a yellow light. “I’ve been assigned to you and I’m not leaving until either Eddie Munro is caught or the chief decides to replace me, so you might as well make the best of it.” She deliberately kept her eyes forward. “I promise I’ll try to be as unobtrusive as possible. You’ll hardly notice I’m there.”

There was silence for a moment. Had she won? Greer slanted a look in Kincannon’s direction and instantly became aware of Kincannon’s eyes moving over her slowly, as if to take measure of every inch of her. More criticism was coming, she could feel it.

“Oh,” the judge replied, “I sincerely doubt that.”

The comment took her completely by surprise. As did the unexpected and sudden feeling of warmth that was spreading throughout her torso and limbs. The same kind of warmth that had zapped through her when she’d thrown herself on top of the judge to shield him earlier.

At the time she’d attributed the reaction to adrenaline and the sudden, gut-seizing fear that she might not get Kincannon out of the line of fire in time. This time there was no one pointing a gun, no visible threat at all.

There was just the judge, appraising her. And obviously seeing her as a woman.

Greer cleared her throat, searching for something to fill the uncomfortable silence. “I heard you mention that your father’s living with you.”

His living arrangements were no secret. After the accident that had claimed his wife, his father had come from Maryland to lend him moral support. Initially, he’d been in an emotional tailspin, one that, at the time, it didn’t seem possible he would ever get out of. But eventually he did. His father stayed on. A month turned into two years. Enamored with the weather, his father showed no signs of wanting to leave. And although the man was rather difficult and cantankerous at times, Blake had to admit that he enjoyed having someone to come home to.

“He is,” the judge replied, wondering where this was going.

From what she’d picked up, the senior Kincannon was not that keen on women in the services. She imagined that extended to having women on the police force. “Do you think he’ll be upset?”

“What, that he didn’t get his own bodyguard?” the judge guessed at her meaning and recalled his phone call to his father. “My father would be insulted if it was even suggested.”

She shook her head as she took another slow right turn. “No, I mean with my having to remain on the premises for a while. If he’s old school—”

That was the polite way to describe it. Chauvinistic could be another. “He is.”

There was only one conclusion to be drawn from that. “Then this might not sit too well with him.”

For the first time, Blake smiled and Greer caught herself noticing how his features instantly softened. He even looked somewhat boyish. That definitely wasn’t the impression she had when Kincannon wasn’t smiling. Then he looked strict and stern, like a man who was not to be crossed.

“No,” he agreed. “You’re right. It might not. I’d brace myself if I were you, Detective.” But even as he said it, his smile widened. “It just might turn out to be one hell of a bumpy ride.”

He probably thought that would make her ask to be taken off the assignment.
You don’t know me, Judge
. “I’ve had bumpy rides before.”

Kincannon didn’t offer an argument, just a smile, a different kind this time. One that said he had some sort of inside knowledge that she wasn’t privy to—yet. But she would. It was just a matter of time.

“We’ll see, Detective,” he said, an ominous promise in his voice. “We’ll see.”

“What are you doing home so early?” were Alexander Kincannon’s first words to his son when Blake walked into his two-story house fifteen minutes later.

Before Blake could say anything in response, Greer walked in behind him. The senior Kincannon, who was nearly as tall as his son and seemed to have a good twenty, thirty pounds on him, grinned knowingly.

“Oh, I see. Looks like I got my answer.” The words were directed at his son, but the ex-marine made absolutely no secret of the fact that he was staring at the woman beside Blake. The older man circled her as if to get the full effect. “Good to see you dating again, Blake. About time, too.” And then his grin became positively wicked. “Did you bring one for me?”

Blake glanced at his watch. It had taken his father all of thirty seconds to embarrass him.

“I’m not ‘dating again,’ Dad,” he answered, doing his best to remain patient with the man. He had no desire to lose his temper with his father in front of a stranger. For the most part, he was a private person. Far more private, apparently, than his father.

“Then who’s this?” Alexander wanted to know.

“‘This,’” Blake answered, using his father’s exact phrasing, “is Detective Greer O’Brien.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Our bodyguard.”

Sky-blue eyes beneath bushy gray eyebrows that resembled miniature tumbleweeds widened incredulously. “Bodyguard?” the ex-marine hooted. His message was clear. The practical joke that his son was obviously attempting to play had just fallen flat. “Yeah, right.” He turned toward the woman. His expression told her that he liked what he saw. “Who are you, really, honey?”

Honey. Greer knew she should have been offended to be addressed that way, but she had a feeling that the older man didn’t mean anything by it. In his generation, it was perfectly acceptable to address a young female that way. In a way, his manner was almost oddly endearing.

Maybe, she thought, because in a way, Kincannon’s father reminded her of her grandfather. Her mother’s father had been one of those grumpy old men with a heart of gold who existed in sitcoms and other people’s family trees. He had been in hers and she’d loved him dearly—they all had—from the moment she’d known him until the day he died. She was ten at the time and completely devastated over the loss.

“Exactly who your son says I am,” she told him. “Detective Greer O’Brien.” Greer put her hand out to the senior Kincannon. “I’ve been assigned to keep you and your son safe and out of harm’s way.”

Alexander eyed her hand without taking it. “And who’s going to keep you safe and out of harm’s way?” he asked gruffly.

Greer never hesitated. “You, sir. We can watch each other’s backs.”

The answer couldn’t have pleased Alexander more. He nodded his full head of silver-gray hair as he took the hand she was still offering. He shook it firmly and noted that she returned the handshake in kind. “I was a marine, you know.”

The look in the man’s eyes told Greer that she’d scored points. “I could tell by your bearing, sir. Once a marine, always a marine.”

“You bet your a—backside,” Alexander concluded, stopping himself at the last minute from saying the word he ordinarily used.

Greer grinned, silently telegraphing that she appreciated the courtesy.

Releasing her hand, Alexander looked at his son. “So, aside from getting shot at, losing a prisoner and gaining a bodyguard with killer legs, how did the rest of your day go?” he asked.

“That about covers the highlights,” Blake replied. Shedding his jacket and tie, the judge left them slung over the back of the first chair he came to on his way to the liquor cabinet.

When he took out a decanter of scotch, Greer tactfully suggested, “Shouldn’t you have something to eat, first?”

Suppressing an irritated sigh, Blake glanced at her over his shoulder. “Detective, you were assigned to be my bodyguard, right?”

“Right.”

He placed the decanter on the counter. “Unless I’m mistaken, that means you’re supposed to guard the outside of my body, not the inside.”

He was going to fight her all the way, wasn’t he? No matter what she said. Well, she didn’t join the force expecting it to be a piece of cake.

Greer crossed to him. “Having something in your stomach reduces the effects of the alcohol. I just wanted to make things easier on you.”

His eyes met hers. His were a piercing blue, a shade darker than his father’s, she noted. “What would accomplish that is if you folded your tent and disappeared into the night.”

She refused to rise to the bait. Instead, she smiled brightly. She had a hunch that it drove him crazy. “Night doesn’t come for several hours yet, Your Honor,” she informed him.

“Is that when you leave?” Alexander asked, joining her.

“No.” As far as she knew, there weren’t going to be shifts. There was just going to be her. She had a feeling, though, as the assignment stretched out, adjustments would be made. “That’s just when the judge would want me to leave.”

Alexander snorted dismissively as he waved a hand in his son’s direction. “Don’t pay any attention to him. Outside the courtroom, Blake doesn’t have the sense he was born with.”

“I’m standing right here, Dad,” Blake pointed out, raising his voice.

Alexander spared his son a withering glance. “You’re six foot two, boy, and my vision’s still good. I can see you.”

“Then don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the room,” Blake suggested.

“Even when you are, half the time you’re not.” Alexander looked back at Greer and confided in a voice that had never quite dipped down to the level of a whisper, “His mind wanders worse than an old man’s. Not that I’d know anything about that.” He chuckled.

Greer nodded. “Didn’t think you would. Mr. Kincannon—” she began, only to have the senior Kincannon interrupt.

“Gunny,” he told her. “Call me Gunny. I was a gunnery sergeant in the marines.”

She inclined her head, wordlessly thanking the older man for the privilege of calling him by the common nickname awarded to all those who served as gunnery sergeants in the corps.

“Gunny,” she echoed. “Could I ask you to show me around your house?”

The older man beamed, then cleared his throat as he went through the motions of summoning a sterner look. “I suppose I can find time for that.”

The corners of her mouth curved. “I’d appreciate it, Gunny.”

Squaring his shoulders, the still exceedingly robust retired marine began leading her to the next room. “Okay, that was the living room. Over here you’ve got your…”

As his father’s voice faded away, taking his unwanted houseguest with him, Blake could only shake his head. He was far from happy about this unexpected turn of events. He hadn’t lied to Detective O’Brien just to make her back off. He had been threatened before, threatened verbally with physical harm, he’d just never told anyone. And, because he’d never registered a complaint with the police, his life had remained his own.

Moreover, no one had come to shoot him dead. The threats had remained empty.

As empty as this one probably was. The only difference was that this time, the threat had been witnessed, so to speak, by the chief of detectives. That had made it official and there was no getting around the rules.

That didn’t mean he had to like it. Or even think that the slip of a woman the chief had assigned to him would make a difference. If that despicable excuse for a human being, Munro, wanted to do away with him, Blake knew that, bodyguard or no bodyguard, the drug dealer was damn well going to try to kill him.

However, he liked to think that he was at least smarter than a hood like Munro no matter how much money the drug dealer had tucked away in a Cayman Islands bank account. And he didn’t want the likes of Detective O’Brien getting in the way and possibly getting caught in the ensuing cross fire.