Keeping Watch: Heart of the Night\Accidental Bodyguard (55 page)

The innocent little witch turned within the crook of his arm and splayed her fingers across his chest in a tender caress. She tilted those wide green eyes up to his. “Please, Jonas, try to understand. I need to go home.”

That
please
word weakened his resolve. He could feel the strain between knowing what he should do, and feeling what he should do, jump in the muscles along the taut line of his jaw. He squeezed and flexed his hand that now rested at the small of her back and offered a compromise to appease her and his conscience. “We go to Washington, first. Then I’ll take you to Missouri myself.”

“I may not have time for that.” Her fingers fisted in the front of his shirt. “He’s dying. The doctors don’t know what’s wrong or how to save him.”

“It could be a trap,” he warned.

“What if it’s not?” she countered. “What if someone’s hurting him because of me? Whatever’s going on, I have to be there for him and Gran. Please.”

There was that damn word again. For a man who’d withstood beatings and bullet holes and still come out fighting, that one soft, civilized word always seemed to breach his considerable defenses. He tipped his head up to the skylighted ceiling and inhaled a cleansing breath before looking down into her beseeching eyes. “You’re going to Missouri, no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

“If you won’t take me, I’ll find a way to get away from you.” He could remind her of the near impossibility of that task. But he was quickly learning that
surrender
and
impossible
just weren’t in her vocabulary. “My family needs me.”

So do I, dammit.
But, short of tying her up or holding her at gunpoint, if she was determined, he knew he had to let her go. And the lady was determined.

But once she rejoined her family—or was sequestered away by the U.S. Marshals Murphy would contact to protect her—her need for him would diminish. And without a need…

Jonas swallowed hard. It wasn’t her job to save him. He’d survived a long time before she’d ever shown up on his front porch. He hadn’t lived. Or loved. But he’d survived.

“Even if your uncle’s illness isn’t a setup, Frye and his men could find out about it.” He was making a valiant effort to win this battle with her. “They might be waiting for you there.”

“But you’ll protect me, right?” She seemed to think he could work miracles. Frye might very well have an army of enforcers waiting to take that disk and destroy her. “Please, Jonas? I won’t ask for another thing. And I’ll do whatever you say—when you say it—if you take me to my family.”

He’d already debated too long. Once he’d given an inch, he’d given her the whole mile. He shook his head, hating and loving the beginnings of that coy smile on her face. She knew she could get to him. He brushed the loose bangs away from her brows, stroking the soft skin of her forehead. He surrendered to her will without actually admitting it with words. “I’m getting too old for this kind of work.”

“Thank you.” She hugged him tight. Jonas used the leverage to lift her off the end of the walkway and tried not to pay too much attention to the rush of warm, invigorating strength her effusive gratitude triggered inside him.

They’d reached the main concourse and rows of ticket counters. He’d stalled as long as he could, familiarizing himself with the airport, waiting for George Murphy to come through with the proper papers that would allow him to bring his knife and gun on board the plane after signing them over to the pilot. He took Faith’s hand and laced his fingers with hers. He needed a free hand as much as he needed to hold on to her. “Columbia, Missouri, right?”

“Right.”

He reached inside his jacket, pulled out his cell phone and dialed George Murphy’s number. Weaving in and out of the long lines forming to buy tickets and pick up boarding passes, he led Faith past each of the airlines that held their D.C. reservations.

The line picked up. “Murphy.”

“Beck. We’ve had a slight change in plans here.”

“Trouble?”

Jonas noted each face as they passed. He briefly filled Murphy in on the phone call and the protective custody that Florence Monroe had violated to warn Faith about her uncle’s illness. “We’ll be flying into Columbia this afternoon. If you can find any kind of reinforcements, send them there.”

“Sounds like a setup to me,” Murphy cautioned.

“It reeks of it,” Jonas agreed, ignoring the attentive way Faith followed the terse conversation. “But I swear to God we’ve already got a tail. I can feel the eyes watching me.”

“We’re being followed?” Faith whispered. Her fingers bit into to the sleeve of his jacket. He hadn’t wanted to alarm her in case she panicked and drew attention to herself. But though her eyes darted form side to side, trying to see whomever was following, the tight clutch of her hands was the only outward sign she revealed. She was a trouper.

Jonas twisted his arm so he could link his fingers with hers and given them a reassuring squeeze. He looked hard into her wide, questioning eyes and tried to silently convey his thanks while he spoke to Murphy. “He’s good, though. I haven’t spotted him yet.”

Jonas heard a flurry of movement on the other end and knew Murphy had risen from his desk and begun to pace. Though only a decade older than Jonas, George was a father figure. He worried like a father, supported and led like a father. Maybe that’s why it had hurt so much the day George called him into his office and told him The Watchers had been disbanded and he no longer had a home there.

It wasn’t the first time a father had kicked him out of the only haven he knew.

“You’re on your own, aren’t you?” Murphy chided. “Damn, I wish I was there. You’ve got to get her here. We can protect her here.”

Clearly, Murphy didn’t understand the concept of Show-Me State stubbornness. “We don’t have any legal leverage to force her to go to D.C. And if you want cooperative testimony, I don’t think kidnapping’s the answer.”

Kidnapping?
Faith mouthed.

Jonas reassured her with a shake of his head and reluctantly joined the line at one of the ticket counters. He pulled her around in front of him and latched an arm around her waist. If they had to wait like sitting ducks, he’d shield her from as much scrutiny as possible.

In the background, he could hear George placing a call on another phone line. While he waited for that party to answer, he resumed the role as unofficial base commander. “I’m calling up a few old friends,” he informed him. “Maybe this isn’t something we can handle through standard channels.”

“Old friends?”

“Some former Watchers. Not all of them retired so far out of society that I can’t find them.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Unlike you, a few of them actually enjoy the company of other people.”

Jonas didn’t rise to the obvious bait. “If you can talk them into it, that sounds fine. What about my weapons clearance?”

Murphy laughed. “They’ll be glad to see you, too.” A reunion of sorts to bring down Darien Frye. Jonas could think of little else that would bring the highly trained and uniquely talented men and women he’d once worked with together again. “I’ve made an arrangement with the airport authority. Show them your ID. I’ve listed you as a federal agent transporting a high-profile witness.”

Jonas recorded the mental note. It was a cover he’d used before. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and Jonas?”

Not
Beck. Jonas.
He was immediately suspicious. “Yeah?”

“I found a match for that Detective Collier you asked about. You won’t like the results.”

Jonas pulled Faith in tighter to his body. “What is it?” she whispered, tuning in to his uneasy tension.

“Jermaine Collier,” Murphy explained, “served sixteen distinguished years with the Saint Louis Police Department.”

Jonas picked up on the past tense verb. “Served?”

“He was killed in the line of duty three years ago.” Murphy stated the obvious. “Whoever interviewed your friend was an imposter.”

C
OPPERHEAD
.

It was the only answer.

Faith held on even tighter to Jonas’s hand as they jogged around the long, circular concourse of Kansas City International Airport to make their connecting flight to Columbia, Missouri.

She couldn’t seem to stop her shivering, even though it was a balmy autumn day outside. She couldn’t seem to clear her head, either.

She’d stood face-to-face with a hired assassin in her own home. And while she’d felt vaguely threatened by Jermaine Collier, she’d believed he was a cop. She’d never suspected that he was most likely the man who’d murdered her boss and Danny Novotny. And Sheriff Prince.

If the crime lab team hadn’t been at her house to serve as potential witnesses, would she be dead now? Had he tried to kill her with that runaway tow truck? If she didn’t have the disk—if she didn’t have Jonas—she’d be dead. She stumbled at the thought, but Jonas’s steadying hand was on her arm to catch her.

“Easy. I’ve got you.” He slowed his pace to a quick walk and pulled her close to his side.

She willingly leaned into his balance and strength and silently wondered if the man was as invincible as he seemed. And then she remembered how vulnerable he’d been, opening up about his past abuse and the false accusations that had scarred him right down to his soul.

Faith pushed herself away from his tempting warmth and latched firmly on to his hand. “It’s bad enough that you’re risking your life for me. You shouldn’t have to hold me up and carry me along as well.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t.” She reached up and brushed her fingertips across the angles of Jonas’s craggy face that, while it would never be handsome, would always be compelling and dear to her. “But I need to be strong, too. I put us in danger. I want to do all I can to make sure that no one else gets hurt because of me or this disk.”

He stopped unexpectedly and turned in front of her. He tipped up her chin with the back of his knuckles. And though his touch was a gentle stroke beneath her jaw, his icy eyes looked tough. “Remember your promise about doing whatever I say, when I say it?”

She nodded. She’d meant it.

“I’m going to hold you to that promise. If anything happens, I need you to respond without hesitation to my commands.” His expression softened for an instant before he bent down and kissed her. It was a swift, possessive stamp that chased away the ominous chill of his words. “
If
anything happens.”

In the next close breath he looked up, beyond her shoulder. And though his expression never changed, she sensed the hyperawareness that seemed to generate its own energy throughout his body. And spark suspicion in hers. “Jonas?”

His voice dropped to a nearly inaudible whisper. “I want you to walk with me now, and act as if the only care you have is catching the next plane.”

A sea of goose bumps erupted along the skin of her arms. She clutched at the front of his jacket. “What’s wrong? You know, that really creeps me out when you do that. You say and do things without explaining yourself.”

“You promised.”

She had. His blue eyes held a distinct warning, but the Arctic chill there reflected steely cunning and unflappable confidence. It was a formidable combination that reassured her more than any kind word or tender touch could.

Faith released her grip and stepped out, quickening her stride to match his. He turned around and draped his arm behind her shoulders, subtly offering a protective barrier between her and whatever had caught his attention. “What did you see?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “Detective Collier? Do you think he followed us from Denver?”

He shook his head. “I’m testing a theory.”

Terrific time to be testing anything,
she thought. Jonas was unarmed, having already transferred his gun and knife to the pilot of their next flight. They’d been delayed while airport security checked his credentials. But then they’d dismissed them with “Good luck” and a mock salute. “Did security change their minds about you?”

Jonas quickened their stride to a pace just shy of a jog. “Only if they’ve hired a plainclothes detective to follow us.”

“It is Collier, isn’t it?”

Jonas was scanning from side to side now. “Fewer questions and more listening, please.”

Faith clamped her mouth shut, wishing she had the nerve to defy Jonas and spin around to look behind them. But wisdom—and her word—dictated that she stay close and keep moving. “Where are we going?” She thumbed over her shoulder. “We just passed our flight gate.”

Jonas grabbed her pointing appendage and pulled her into an open doorway marked Men. The rows of urinals, sinks and stalls were surprisingly empty. Still, Faith dug in her heels and tugged against his powerful grip.

“Jonas! I can’t go in here—” The palm of his hand stifled her protest as he dragged her behind a partition of polished white tile and shoved her behind him.

“Not a word,” he mouthed. He turned and blocked her into the corner.

Faced with only his broad back for scenery, Faith couldn’t see the man who ducked into the rest room behind them. But, seeing the tension radiate through Jonas’s stance and the massive fist that curled at his side, she sensed the man was toast.

“Miss Monroe? I need to talk to you and your friend. Just talk. I’m—”

Jonas sprang. Faith could only watch the sudden violence unfolding before her. It all happened so quickly. A series of grunts and breaths and pithy words. A fist to the intruder’s gut doubled him over. Then Jonas spun around and closed one massive forearm around the other man’s neck.

“Jonas!” Faith yelled. “What are you—?” This wasn’t Detective Collier.

But the intruder in the gray suit and tie hadn’t been taken completely by surprise. He planted his feet and rammed Jonas back against the wall. Faith cringed when Jonas’s head hit the unyielding surface. She reached out half a step, wanting to help but not knowing how.

Jonas’s grip loosened and the man pulled free. He swung around and jammed his fist into Jonas’s gut.

“Stop it!” Faith yelled. When the man swung out again, his jacket came open, revealing the gun strapped to his side. He’d just evened the odds in this fight. “Jonas!”