Keeping Watch: Heart of the Night\Accidental Bodyguard (57 page)

“It’s me, Gran.”

“Faith!” The unconscious agent crumpled to the floor as a pretty, silver-haired lady wrapped Faith up in a tight hug. “Oh, sweetie. It’s so good to see you. What happened to your hair? This is just what Wesley needs. Is the guard… He’s not… Who’s this?”

Jonas stood after handcuffing the agent and disabling his microphone, realizing he was now the focus of the older woman’s attention. Her wide, frightened eyes were just as green and pretty as Faith’s. He gave her a curt nod and moved to watch the door. “Ma’am.”

“It’s okay, Gran.” Faith’s tone was bright and full of strength and reassurance. “That’s just something Jonas does. He’s a friend of mine. I know it’s shocking at first, but the guard will be fine. I have so much to tell you.”

They were both talkers. “And I have so much—”

He interrupted before either launched into her tale. “You have however long it takes for those guards out there to realize we sent them on a wild-goose chase.” He nodded toward the dark-haired man who appeared to be asleep on the hospital bed. “Make the minutes count, honey.”

Faith nodded, linked arms with her grandmother, and went over to the bed to take her uncle’s hand. Then Jonas stood back and watched how a real family worked.

F
EELING EACH
precious second of time ticking by with alarming speed, Faith bent down and kissed her uncle’s wan cheek. She blinked back the tears that wet her eyelashes at the sight of her stalwart father figure lying pale and still upon the bed, his arms and lungs hooked up to tubes and wires and machines. She kept her grandmother’s hand clutched tightly within her own and offered them what energy and strength and hope she could.

“I love you, Uncle Wes.” He stirred in a fitful slumber, but didn’t open his eyes. She turned to her grandmother. “How is he doing?”

It was the first time she’d ever seen her grandmother look old. “He drifts in and out of consciousness. He’s collapsed twice. It’s like he can’t get enough air to breathe. But the doctors think he’s improving. They’re treating him with fluids and antibiotics to help him rebuild his strength.” She pressed a handkerchief to her lips and stifled a weary sob. “But he’s so weak….” Faith hugged her tight. “I can’t lose another son.”

“He’ll pull through. He’s tough. You know that. It’s a Monroe family trait.” She reached for her uncle’s hand and connected the three of them together. “He’ll come back to us. What happened?”

Gran took a deep breath and composed herself. “Your father got mixed up with some very bad people when you were a little girl.”

Faith nodded. “I know about Darien Frye.”

Her grandmother didn’t seem surprised to learn that Faith knew some part of the truth about her father’s death. “Twelve years ago, when Jack died, he’d been working on something at the college. He’d had some sort of breakthrough. He was going to patent the idea and sell it.”

But he’d had second thoughts about his undetectable metal alloy. It would wreak havoc on security systems and make law enforcement a nightmare. “I know about that, too. What does it all have to do with Wes?”

“Jack told Wes what he’d invented. Wes is no scientist or engineer. He makes things grow and tends the land.”

Jonas’s low voice echoed across the tiny room. “We’re down to a couple of minutes, ladies.”

Faith steered her away from the sentimental journey. “I know he didn’t give the plans to Wes. His research partner, William Rutherford, gave them to me a few days ago. I understand what they mean.”

Gran’s pale cheeks warmed with color. “I should have expected as much from Jack’s bright girl.” She leaned down and brushed a lock of dark hair off her son’s forehead. He stirred in his sleep but didn’t awaken. “Wes promised his brother that he’d protect the family if anything happened to him. That’s why we took you in and moved away after your parents’ deaths. And now, all these years later, he’s still protecting us. He heard a report on the news about the murders at Eclipse Labs. We went straight to the FBI. And we asked them to find you, too, to keep you safe.”

Faith slid her gaze across the room to the wary sentry who guarded the door. “I am safe, Gran.” For the briefest of moments, Jonas’s intense gaze connected with hers, reminding her that
safe
was a relative concept right about now. She turned her attention back to the woman whose hand still clung to hers. “Your house was searched. I’m glad you weren’t there. But what happened to Wes?”

The dear matriarch shook her head. “We were holed up in a safe house in central Missouri with three agents. But this morning after breakfast, he collapsed. He couldn’t breathe. Air was going in and out, but it was like he was suffocating. One of the agents gave him a shot of something. Epinephrine, I think. We called an ambulance and came here.”

“Those symptoms can be induced intentionally,” Jonas observed matter-of-factly. “By poison.”

“Shush.” Faith knew he still considered her uncle’s illness a setup to lure her back to Missouri. But her grandmother’s stricken expression made his words sound cold and heartless.

But she had underestimated the transformation of her beastly bodyguard. He came to stand on the opposite side of the bed from Faith and her grandmother. “I wouldn’t worry, ma’am.” He looked at Gran and Wes and finally at Faith. “If he’s anything like your granddaughter, he’s too hardheaded to give up. I’m sure he’ll recover.” Suddenly, Jonas’s
matter-of-fact
sounded very comforting.

Her grandmother’s face lit up with a smile as she squeezed Faith’s hand and reached across the bed to Jonas. He stared at the offer of friendship as if it was some kind of trick. It took a reassuring nod from Faith before he gently shook the older woman’s hand. Gran held on to his long, strong fingers. “I think I like this one. He called you
honey,
too. Is there something…? He’s so big. Nice eyes, though. And that scar. What—?”

“Gran.” Faith cut her off before she embarrassed Jonas and forced her to examine and acknowledge her own feelings. Jonas had slipped and used the endearment from time to time the past couple of days. But the checkout lady at the grocery store called her
honey,
too. It might not mean a thing. And her warm, needy reaction to the word from his lips might not be his intention.

The unconscious guard groaned from his corner on the floor. “Time’s up,” announced Jonas, releasing Gran and turning away.

“Just a few minutes longer. Please?” Faith begged.

But her plea had no effect this time. “What I say, when I say it, remember?” He reached for her hand across the bed. “We have to go now. Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He tipped the brim of his low-slung ball cap and pulled Faith around the foot of the bed.

It was too soon. She’d only just arrived. Gran was so worried. And Uncle Wes…

“Faith?” A faint breath of a voice called to her from the bed.

“Uncle Wes.” Relief misted her eyes. Jonas let her tug free of his grip and dash to her uncle’s side. She scooped up his hand between both of hers and kissed his cheek. “It’s so good to see you. I’m so sorry you got hurt. I love you.”

His fingers pressed weakly against hers. “Love you, too.”

“Faith.” Jonas’s stern warning chimed like a clock. “Now.”

She leaned in closer as Wes tugged the oxygen mask off his nose and mouth, and blinked his eyes open. “…friend says go.” He was struggling to breathe now. “Not safe. Guard…poisoned…”

Faith didn’t understand. “One of the guards did this to you?”

The agent on the floor was awake. And angry. “Mrs. Monroe? Are you all right?”

Gran puffed up in a ladylike version of losing her temper. “Of course, I’m all right. This is my granddaughter. Stay…”

But he was climbing to his feet. “Reach into my pocket and get my phone. Press the star key to call backup.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Gran protested.

“Mrs. Monroe—”

Jonas turned on him. “Sorry, pal.”

“Go.” Wes was trying to warn her of something. “Trusted…friends…not…” His eyes squeezed shut.

“Wes?”

“Mrs. Monroe! Securi—!” Jonas rammed his fist into the agent’s jaw, sending him back into the corner and a few minutes of oblivion again. Then his big hands were on Faith’s waist and he was pulling her away from the bed.

Her skin blanched in a sea of gooseflesh as the chaos erupted in the middle of her secure, loving world. “No. Don’t take me.”

Wes opened his eyes and tried to focus. “Frye…dead.”

“We’ve lost control of the situation,” Jonas warned. “We go
now.
”

“Wes?” She begged her uncle for understanding even as she was ripped from his grasp.

She reached for him. His fingers stretched to meet hers. “…wants you…not formula…blames Jack…you can make…connection…”

“Who blames Dad? What connection? Wes?”

“Go, dear.” Gran was pushing her into Jonas’s arms now. “I’ll be with him. I’ll find out what he’s saying.”

“No,” she protested.

Gran smiled gamely through a veil of tears. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Honey, please.” Jonas’s arm had circled her waist now. He was taking her away from everything she loved.

“They need me.”

“I need you to be safe.” He carried her to the door and set her down, trapping her in the vise of his arm and chest as he opened the door a tiny slit and peeked into the hallway.

She twisted around in his unyielding grasp, desperately trying to get back to her uncle. “Uncle Wes!”

Wes’s hand fell back to the bed. “Love you.”

“No—”

Jonas clamped his hand over her mouth. She beat at his arm, scratched at his hand, hating him for taking her away before she could understand. Before she could make things right. He was taking her away from everything she held precious and dear, everything that mattered.

“Faith.” He lifted her off the floor, taking away her leverage to struggle. His lips brushed against her ear in a fierce whisper. “I’m sorry, honey. I have to do this. You have to do this for them, to make this all go away. You have to live.”

Faith went limp in his arms. There was no tenderness in his touch, but there was immeasurate strength. It was comfort enough.

She couldn’t hate him because he was right.

She couldn’t hate him because she loved him.

He had always been strong for her. He had always done the right thing by her. And even if it lacked grace or compromise, it had never lacked heart.
He
had never lacked heart.

Faith nodded her compliance and he released her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

She wished there was time and a way to hug him hard enough and kiss him deeply enough and love him long enough to make him understand that he was no monster to her. That he gave her more in a look or a touch than he ever could with his knife or his gun. He needed to understand that he could be loved. That he
was
loved.

“The other two agents are in the hallway. And they look a little pissed.” Jonas’s observation reminded her that survival came first. This wasn’t the time to air her feelings. And he’d never indicated that he’d welcome them, anyway. Maybe locked up in his secluded mountain cabin was the only way he felt comfortable with the world. “Better?” he asked, sparing her an indulgent look, though she could feel the alert tension humming through his body.

“I’m fine.” She stroked her fingers along his arm in mute apology and breathed deeply, bracing herself for running the gauntlet or whatever other plan Jonas had in mind. “What do you need me to do?”

“Jonas, is it?” Gran’s voice was hushed, but strong behind them. “The guard’s coming to again.”

He turned and nodded his thanks, then made a quick decision. He inclined his head toward the cracked opening in the doorway and the advancing federal agents. “I’ll stall them. You take the stairs down to the car and drive it around to the front. I’ll meet you there.”

“What do you mean, stall them?”

“Now.”

Jonas swung open the door and shoved her in one direction. He charged the opposite way.

The agents reached for their guns. “Jonas!”

“Run!”

From the corner of her eye, she witnessed the beast come to life. With his arms thrown wide, Jonas tackled both men. All three crashed to the floor, taking a food cart with them. Faith steeled herself against the gasps of surprise and smacks of fists and grunts of pain that followed as the three men fought and onlookers gathered around them.

She turned her back on the danger Jonas faced and ran down the hall, relieving him of that concern, at least, so he could concentrate on defending himself. Faith ran past the nurses’ station, she dodged around dumbstruck patients and staff watching the brawl. She hurried past the elevators as one set of doors opened.

“Faith?” A swath of deep brick red startled her with recognition and she stumbled to a halt. “Faith, is that you? What happened to your hair? What’s going on? Is that a fight?”

A chattery voice from the grave spun her around in shock. “Liza?” She stared for one long, disoriented moment at the woman framed in the open elevator doors, wearing a nursing uniform much like the scrubs and colorful jacket she herself had on. “Liza?” She took a jerking step forward. “How…? I thought you were dead.”

“I’m fine.” Her friend’s confused smile must have matched her own.

“Liza!” Faith closed the gap between them and hugged her tight. “I’m so sorry I got you mixed up in all of this. Did they put you into protective custody, too?”

Liza wasn’t hugging her back. Why weren’t the doors closing?

The two facts registered a heartbeat too late. Inside the elevator…with the tip of a knife blade on a button beside the door… Cold, dead fear swept through Faith as she breathed in. Protective fury replaced it as she breathed out.

She pulled Liza from the elevator. “Get out.” The tall dark man inside the elevator was no doctor. He wielded death instead of life with his two hands.
Copperhead.

“He’s not a cop. Come with me!”

“No.” Something cold and hard jabbed Faith in the ribs and she froze. She released Liza and looked down to see the long, oversize barrel of a gun and silencer pressing beneath the folds of her jacket. When she looked up again, her friend’s eyes were devoid of anything resembling friendship. “You come with us.”