Flash of Death (8 page)

Aww, c’mon. Admit it, Self. You like knowing he’s looking out for you.

That little voice in the back of her head could just go take a hike. She went back to work and threw herself into finishing her piece of the quarterly report, which took the rest of the day. At quitting time, she had about an hour’s worth of work left to do on the thing and decided to stay late and finish it. Not to mention doing so would probably irritate the heck out of Trent.

The office emptied and the phones quit ringing. As silence settled around her, she focused intently on the columns of numbers on her computer screen. One more footnote to post on a one-time charge as required by law, and she’d be done.

“Chloe Jordan?” a heavy male voice said in her doorway.

She looked up at a man she’d never seen before. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Miguel Herrera. New Chief of Security.”

She swore to herself. Way to go avoiding the guy who’d be most likely to stick around late and lock the place up. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Pasting on a polite smile, she moved around her desk to shake hands with him. He was about her height and powerful in build. His neck was thick and muscular, and she had no doubt that under his suit the rest of him was equally beefy. “Glad to have you here, sir. Now I’m not the newest kid on the block anymore.”

Herrera smiled, but the expression never touched his cold, black eyes. She got the distinct feeling he was mentally calculating the best way to dissect her into Chihuahua-
food-sized kibbles. “How much longer will you be here this evening, Miss Jordan?”

“I’m just finishing up the quarterly report. Two more minutes, tops.”

Herrera gave her a long, assessing look like he was measuring the truth of her explanation, and she restrained an urge to squirm. “Next time you plan to stay late, tell me first,” he finally growled.

“Of course.” He left her office and she sagged in relief. The guy really did reek of contained violence. No wonder Don had warned her away from this guy. More eager than ever to get home and dig into Barry’s files, she hurried through the last footnote, sent her data to Paradeo’s Chief Financial Officer and headed home.

She didn’t bother looking for Trent when she stepped out of her building. She was in too big a hurry to get away from Herrera’s disturbing presence. When she had to walk past the alley where the man had jumped her the night before, she couldn’t help herself. She swung wide of the dark gap, edging along the parked cars and hurrying her steps.

Thank goodness Trent had been there last night. As much as she might resent his intrusion into her life, who knew what that mugger really would’ve done to her? In a moment of brutal honesty, she allowed reluctantly that Trent probably hadn’t deserved her generally rude response to him last night. It wasn’t his fault she’d gotten drunk and found out the hard way what a floozy she was on whiskey. She was embarrassed, but that wasn’t his problem.

Thankfully, she’d left a lamp on in her apartment this morning and didn’t have to step into a dark space. She kicked off her high-heeled shoes gratefully. Visions of a red stiletto flying over a broad, sexy shoulder came unbidden to her mind.

Get out of my head!
Echoes of rich male laughter were the only reply her mind offered up.

To drown the memory of Trent’s voice urging her not to overthink, to let go and show him just how naughty she could be, she turned on the television. Local news blared as she moved into the kitchen to whip up dinner for herself. The act of chopping and stir-frying a wokful of cashew chicken calmed her.

She poured herself a glass of chardonnay and moved into the living room to relax while the rice steamed. The news anchor’s voice caught her attention. “And in local news, accountant Barry Lind was found dead in his apartment this afternoon, the apparent victim of a robbery gone wrong...”

Her wineglass slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor, shattering on the slate tiles.

Gut-twisting fear slammed into her harder than Trent Hollings had on that street in Denver. She collapsed on the couch, staring at the television in horror as it flashed a picture of Barry that looked a few years old and declared his death a tragic loss. The reporter moved on unconcernedly to the next story as if he hadn’t just destroyed her world.

Her front door knob rattled and she scrambled to her feet in terror, stumbling on the edge of the area rug as she backed away from the door. A snick and the knob turned. Ohgod, ohgod.... Someone was breaking in. She was next to die—

She spun and ran for her bedroom. A hard, powerful arm snagged her around the waist from behind, yanking her back against a muscular body. She screamed and a big hand slapped across her mouth.

“Easy, Chloe. It’s me. What the hell’s going on? Why did you freak out like that?”

She nearly sobbed aloud in relief as Trent’s deep voice rumbled in her ear. His hand lifted off her mouth. His body was big and warm and protective plastered against her back, and an urge to sink into him and let him take care of her came over her. But then anger erupted inside her. “You scared me to death!” she exclaimed.

He turned her in his arms, but infuriatingly didn’t let her go. Or to be more accurate, she was glad he didn’t turn her loose, and
that
made her furious with herself.

“Me?” Trent exclaimed. “You were completely terrified by something long before I got here. I saw you drop your wineglass and go as white as a sheet. That’s when I hoofed it over here as fast as I could.”

How had he seen her? She glanced over at her picture windows in chagrin. She’d always been claustrophobic and preferred to leave the blinds open to the city view.

“Chloe? What’s going on?” he urged.

His question pulled her back to Barry’s tragic fate. “He’s dead,” she mumbled as tears started to flow down her cheeks.

“Who?” Trent’s voice was sharp now and his hands tightened on her shoulders.

“Barry. The guy I met for drinks last night.”

“Your boyfriend?” Trent’s voice changed tenor. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her and drew her against his big, comforting chest.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He is...was...” her voice cracked “...an accountant where I work. He wanted to talk over a problem he was having at work.”

“What kind of problem?”

Not the kind that she was prepared to discuss with anyone but Don. “Just some accounting stuff,” she replied evasively.

“How did Barry die?” She couldn’t fail to hear the charged anticipation in Trent’s voice. He didn’t seriously think Barry’s death was related to her, did he?

“The news said he was murdered at home possibly confronting a robber.”

Trent frowned, but didn’t comment as he pulled out his cell phone and plastered it to his ear. While he waited for someone to come on the line, he used his free arm to guide her over to the sofa. He sank down onto it and pulled her down beside him, never removing his arm from around her. Whether she liked it or not, he held her practically lying across his chest.

In spite of how frustrated she was at having him shadowing her life, she had to admit his body heat and slow, steady heartbeat were both comforting and calming. What the heck. She gave up resisting his superior strength and relaxed against him, accepting the comfort he was offering. His hand stroked her hair absently. She would have purred like a contented cat if the man who’d stolen sensitive data and passed it to her hadn’t just been killed.

“Jeff, it’s Trent. Coworker of Chloe’s was killed today. She met him for drinks last night to talk about work stuff and he was murdered in his home overnight.”

She faintly heard Jeff’s reply. “I’ll send a full team right away.”

“No!” she exclaimed, struggling to push upright on Trent’s chest. “No team!”

“Honey, you’re in grave danger,” Trent replied soothingly. “We need the extra manpower to protect you.”

“I can’t have an entire security team trailing me around. It’ll ruin everything!”

Trent answered whatever Jeff said with, “Nope. No idea what she’s talking about. Yeah, I’ll find out. We can’t exactly force her to cooperate with us.”

She stared at Trent in dismay and mouthed again, “No team!”

He frowned at her while he listened to Jeff. He said only, “Got it. I’ll be in touch.” And then he disconnected the call.

* * *

Trent stared down at the exasperating woman trapped against his chest. Single-handedly protecting her from killers was a tall order. And he
really
didn’t want to see anything bad happen to her. He had plans for the two of them.

“Will you please explain to me why don’t you want a team of highly trained field operatives to keep you alive, Chloe?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Same difference.”

He sighed. “Look. I’m one of the good guys. I’m trying to help you, but you’re making it damned hard to do.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“I beg to differ. Twice now, someone has tried to harm or kill you, and your colleague, to whom you must have been one of the last people he spoke with, is dead. Wake up and smell the coffee. You’re in real danger.”

She stared at him a long time, her eyes as big and blue as the sky on a clear day. Emotions washed through her azure gaze, one after another. Distrust. Doubt. Frustration. And finally, fear. Relief flowed through him. At last, she was getting past her denial enough to believe him.

But then she said, “I’ve been in rough situations before. I’ll be okay.”

“Not this time. Whoever’s coming after you is violent and proficient.”

“They can’t be that proficient. I’m still alive.”

“Because I’ve been around to save you,” he snapped. And he’d succeeded in protecting her both times by the skin of his teeth. “Pretty soon, your would-be killer is going to start figuring me into the equation, and I won’t be enough to keep you safe any more.” His arm tightened protectively around her.

Her flash of defiance faded. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Let me help you. Let Jeff and a full-blown security team help you.”

She was silent a long time. Finally, reluctantly, she said, “All right. But no team. Just you.”

“I can’t be everywhere at once. You’ll be safer with a full security detail.”

“I might be safer, but it would ruin my investigation. It’s you or nobody.”

He sensed that was her final offer. But he didn’t like it. “What or who, exactly, are you investigating?”

Chagrin washed across her face. “I assume you followed me to work today and figured out which company I’m working for.”

“I did,” he answered evenly. “And where are you in your investigation with Paradeo?”

She hesitated, and then capitulated and spoke in a rush. “Barry gave me a flash drive with a bunch of financial information on it. That’s why he wanted to meet me last night.”

“Were they worth killing over?”

She stared at him, appalled. “You think that’s why Barry was killed?”

He shrugged. “Hard to tell.” He didn’t want to suggest that mere contact with her could have been enough to cause a motivated killer to go after Barry. She would never get over the guilt of it.

“So how do we do this?” she asked.

An image of her naked and tied up beneath him flashed through his head. Startled, he shook it off and forced his mind to work. “I’m going to be glued to your side from now on. I’ll figure out who’s after you and, when the bastard shows himself, I’ll catch him and turn him over to the authorities. Then you can resume your regularly scheduled life. In the meantime, you should take some time off work.”

“I can’t. The FBI has hired me to investigate Paradeo, and I have to see it through.”

“Not if it’s going to kill you.”

She sighed. “A certain amount of risk is part of the job.”

“Not this much risk,” he retorted. “You’ve got Barry’s files here at your place, don’t you?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then you can work on them at home.”

“But it will raise suspicion if I suddenly disappear from Paradeo. And, I don’t know if Barry got the entire goods on the company. If he didn’t, I may still need access to the company’s financial records. And that means keeping my job and the appearance of normalcy for a little longer.”

He didn’t like it one bit, but he could see her point. “I’m still staying glued to your side,” he declared.

“You can’t exactly sit beside my desk all day long without raising serious red flags with my superiors,” she replied, alarmed.

Dammit, another good point. “No, but I can drop you off at work and pick you up, and I can watch you in your office from across the street.”

She frowned. “I suppose I could live with that.”

He wasn’t giving her a choice in the matter, but he refrained from sharing that particular detail with her. She was finally letting down her guard with him, and he wasn’t about to raise her hackles again unnecessarily.

“Where do you keep a broom?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“If you’ll get a towel to mop up the wine, I’ll sweep up the broken glass.”

She fetched him a broom and dustpan. As she disappeared into her bedroom in search of a towel, he raced through cleaning up the glass. He was done by the time she got back.

“Man, you’re fast,” she commented. “How did you do that?”

He swore at himself mentally. He would have to be more careful not to give away his special ability. “It wasn’t that big a job.”

But her frown suggested she didn’t entirely believe him. To distract her, he asked, “What’s that delicious smell coming from your kitchen. Have you eaten yet?”

“It’s cashew chicken. And, no, I haven’t. Have you?”

He winced. “I should warn you. I’m pretty much always hungry.”

“Good thing I made a big batch, then.”

After a delicious supper, he called Winston Ops. “Hey, it’s Trent. Has Jeff briefed you on the latest from here? Good. Can you get a hold of the police report and find out what their preliminary guess is as to how Barry died?”

He only had to wait a minute or so. How on earth Winston’s people got access to the San Francisco police department’s database so quickly, he hadn’t the slightest idea. Frankly, he didn’t want to know. The favors Jeff was able to call in on a moment’s notice were scary.