Man with the Muscle (7 page)

“We're behind you, Audrey!” a voice yelled from the park.

Others joined in. “Keep our children safe!”

“We're counting on you!”

Audrey raised her hand to wave. Alex snatched it back down to her side and her smile for her fans turned into a scowl for him. “See? They know I work for them, not some high-priced law firm like Cade Shipley. They're on my side.”

“Is that what this is about? Proving you're a woman of the people?” Alex kept walking. “You're giving the press and everyone in the park who are dying to have their voice heard a golden opportunity to question or harass you—or something worse.”

“They have a right to be here. They're frightened for their children and their community. They want me to understand that message. They're supporting me.”

“What if one of them thinks you're not doing the job the way they want? Or you're not doing it fast enough to suit them?”

“They're not…”

Alex heard the squeal of tires and instinctively put his hand on his gun and put himself between Audrey and the street. “Stay back.”

Red car. Speeding toward them. Dark windows except for the one sliding down.

“Alex?” She tugged at his sleeve.

He pulled his weapon, steadied it between his hands. His finger brushed the trigger, but he lowered his gun at the last second. The car slowed as something sailed through the open window, but no one was shooting.

“You scared yet, bitch?”

Alex spun, reaching for her. But he was a split second too late. “Audrey!”

Something red and juicy struck her jaw and the side of her neck. A tomato.

She was stunned, but not hurt. The mess was dripping under her white collar and onto her coat, and she was pissed. She wiped the biggest glob of mushy pulp from her face and walked over to the trash can at the curb to flick it inside. “Are they kidding me with this?” She pulled a piece of the skin from her lapel. “Who throws tomatoes?”

“Are you hurt?” Alex didn't know whether to touch her or not. He ID'd the make of the car and read a partial plate before the first picture snapped. “You're gonna be front-page news if I don't get you out of here now.”
Definitely touch her.
“Audrey?” Pointing his gun down at his side, he reached for her with his left hand. His eyes were scanning, assessing. Car gone, around the corner at the next block and out of sight. Uniforms closing in. Press closing in. Crowd… “We need to move, Red.”

And then he heard the beep from the trash can.

“Get down!”

Alex picked her up around the waist and threw her to the ground across the sidewalk. He dove on top of her, shielding her with his body as the trash can exploded into shards of molten plastic and flying metal and rained down around them.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

It took a few seconds for Alex's stunned hearing to adjust to the sound of Audrey's voice. He felt the throb of pain in his hand and the pinch of her fingers digging into his forearm through his jacket and sweater before he clearly heard the distress in her tone. The
quick recovery time for his ears meant the bomb hadn't been that big, or else the concussive blast would have done more damage.

Nothing else on him was hurting beyond some bruised knuckles and a scrape above the band of his watch. He pushed himself up on his elbows, easing the crush of his body over hers. But he wasn't quite ready to free her. “Audrey, are you hurt?”

“Skinned my knee, maybe.” She had a nice red welt on her cheek that was starting to ooze blood. But she didn't seem to notice her own injuries. Or care. “Is anyone else hurt?” She pushed at him with her hips, and he let her roll over and sit up while he knelt beside her. Like him, she surveyed the others, hunkered close to the ground—a few with some minor scrapes, one woman was holding her head—nothing that looked like a shrapnel wound, though. Some were in shock. “Is everyone okay?”

One officer was helping a woman to her feet. Another was on his radio. Good. Help was coming. As a police officer, he was supposed to be responsible for all these people, too. But his concern was focused solely on Audrey. Her hair had fallen loose from its pins and he brushed it away from her injured cheek. “Doesn't look like anything serious,” he reassured her. “I'm sure backup and ambulances are already on their way.”

She tilted her wide green eyes to his. “Is this my fault?”

“Don't go there.” He holstered his gun as he turned to inspect the pattern of debris around what was left of the trash can. The blast area was small and localized, indicating that the goal of the explosion wasn't to do a lot of damage. It was meant to do
specific
damage. To
a specific person? Alex looked back to Audrey, hating the suspicion pouring into his veins. “Whoever set that off is the one you should blame.”

He heard the click of a camera and whirled around, on his feet, his hands curled into fists. “Get out of here, Lassen.”

The heavyset man with a receding hairline and shrewd eyes shook his head. “Someone tries to kill Rupert Kline's daughter, and you don't think that's front-page news?”

Audrey's fingers pulled at Alex's, opening his fist as she pulled herself up beside him. “How much would it cost to buy that picture back, Mr. Lassen?”

“Are you kidding? This could get me back full-time at the paper, lady. No sale.”

She wrapped her arm through Alex's and held on, although he wondered if she was shielding herself or sensing the tension roiling through him and keeping him in check. “You go have a nice career, Mr. Lassen. Just remember…” her tone was in full lawyer mode now “…you're trespassing on a crime scene. If you don't clear out of here right now, I'll have this fine officer arrest you.”

Go, Red.

Lassen swore. Then swore again. “You big shots with all your money—you think you own this town. But you don't. I have every right to make my living, and you can't—”

“You really want to threaten her with me standing here, Lassen?” The instant the reporter took half a step forward, Alex planted himself squarely in his path.

“Are you the bodyguard or the boyfriend?” Was that going to be part of his story?

Alex faked a lunge forward. Lassen stumbled backward, cursing cocky cops and daddy's girls and life in general as he turned and stormed up the sidewalk.

Audrey wiped another swath of tomato juice from her neck. “You'd better brace yourself. We are so hitting the rumor mill tomorrow.”

“That doesn't bother me.” He picked up her attaché bag and handed it to her, steaming at the knowledge that that wasn't only juice trickling over her skin.

Just after the blast, the Reaper had been standing there in the park, watching. Now he was gone. That bothered him even more than the reporters who were finally on the scent of Lassen's story and hurrying along the sidewalk toward them. It bothered him more than the bomb.

“Should we go?” Audrey prompted.

The roar of a heavy-duty truck engine gunning down the hill was the best news Alex had had since leaving the courtroom. Backup had arrived. He hooked his fingers around her arm. “Yeah. Going is good.”

Rafe zoomed up to the curb in his black pickup truck. Trip opened the passenger door and jumped out before they came to a complete stop. “We came as soon as we got your text and could get out of the garage. What the hell's going on?”

“Bomb in the trash can. More for effect than to do any real damage. Remote detonation. Could have been the kids in the car, could have been, hell…could have been anybody.” Audrey tilted her chin up—way up—and sidled closer to Alex as he pulled her past Trip. “I need her out of here. Now.”

Trip swung around at the approaching footsteps of a dozen curious onlookers and eager reporters. “I got
this. Meet you back at HQ.” He raised his badge in the air, his booming voice taking command of the scene. “KCPD. Stop right where you are. Everybody remain calm and do exactly what I say.”

There wasn't a bigger wall between Audrey and potential danger than Trip Jones. But she braced her hand against the door frame and refused to climb in. “Wait a minute. I thought we were walking.” They didn't have control of the scene yet and Alex wasn't in the mood to argue. He spanned his hands around her waist and lifted her into the cab, pitching her into the middle of the seat and climbing in behind her. “What are you doing? You're kidnapping me now? Who are you people?”

“SWAT Team One. That was Trip. This is Rafe.” Alex pulled the door shut. “Go, Sarge. D.A.'s office. Unless you want to hit the emergency room first?” he asked her.

Audrey shook her head, sinking back into the seat between them as Rafe put the truck into gear and called Dispatch on the radio.

“I was in control of my life half an hour ago. What's happening?” She opened her attaché on her lap and pulled out a blue bandanna.

His
blue bandanna.

After all this time she was still carrying that old rag with her?

As she pulled open her coat to clean some tomato drippings from her collar bone, Alex plucked the bandanna from her hand. He heard her soft gasp of breath and watched the self-conscious heat creep along her neck. When his eyes met hers, he tried to communicate that he had no problem with her holding on to his gift from that night of the murder.

Her eyes never left his as he pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and angled her face to dab at her wound. He hoped she could read the same confusion in his eyes. He didn't get this connection between them, either, but it was there. Whether she wanted to argue or let him touch her gently like this, the connection was there.

The reality of knowing she could have been hurt so much worse by that bomb was there, too.

He held up the bandanna and let her see the blood. Her blood.

“I think somebody just made their voice heard.”

“Are you sure you're all right?”

Her blouse was ruined and the strawberry mark scraped across Audrey's cheek throbbed with every anxious beat of her pulse, but she hardly wanted to confess that to her boss. “I'm fine.”

Dwight Powers stood behind his walnut desk, buttoning his suit coat and straightening his tie. “I'll take over the case.”

That was exactly what she'd been afraid this meeting was about. “No.” She shot up out of her chair and mirrored his stance across the desk. “That's what this person wants—to intimidate me right out of that courtroom.”
You scared yet, bitch?
The words had gotten under her skin when she'd been crushed beneath Alex's body and the world had exploded all around them. But she couldn't let them get inside her head. “If I don't finish what I've started here, I'll never have authority over anything in this office again. No one in this city will trust me to protect them.”

“An anonymous threat is one thing. Getting close enough to actually hurt you is something different.” Dwight trailed a finger across the photo of his second wife and family framed on top of his desk before raising
his probing gaze back to her. “I know what it's like to lose people you care about because of this job. No career is worth that.”

Audrey fisted her hand on top of the desk. “Demetrius Smith is not going to get to me.”

“He got to Trace Vaughn.”

“We don't know that.”

“Audrey—”

She threw up her hands and spun away, pacing around the guest chairs and collecting her thoughts before returning to the desk. “I realize that's the most likely scenario—the one KCPD is pursuing—that one of his Bad Boys took out Trace. But that has yet to be proved. Think about this logically. Think about Kansas City, not just me.”

“I have to think about the people who work for me. You're my responsibility as much as the people we represent.”

As tough and overprotective as her boss could be, she knew he could be reasoned with if her arguments were all in place.

With a deep sigh through his barrel chest, he pulled back the front of his suit jacket and propped his hands at his waist. “But I'm listening.”

Audrey calmed her breathing, as if she was making a final summation to a jury. “I know you agreed to give me this assignment because the Kline name carries more legal clout than the other A.D.A.s can bring to the table. You considered the public relations message surrounding this case—city officials and the movers and shakers will see the Kline name and think you're bringing out the big guns to go up against gang violence in K.C.”

“You
are
a ‘big gun' in my office.” Dwight folded his arms across his chest. “But your last name isn't the only reason I gave you this case.”

“Exactly.” Audrey had given up on her hair staying pinned into place, and had simply combed the waves down around her shoulders. Now she tucked it behind one ear and tilted her head, bringing the mark on her cheek into focus. “You're also counting on that intangible sympathy vote from the jury. If things are close, you're hoping they'll look at little ol' me—too skinny and too pale—standing up against a bully like Smith and his high-priced lawyer, and they'll vote for the underdog.”

“That strategy won't do me any good if my
underdog
gets hurt and can't finish the trial.”

“You're going to make my point for me, sir.” Time to reel him in. “Any delays or a switch in counsel after today's opening statements makes our office look weak. A shark like Cade Shipley would jump all over that and sway the jury. If we're not ready to prove our case, if a rookie like me can't prove it—”

“You're too sharp to ever think like a rookie. Why do you think I hired you?”

“Thanks. But if you're going to believe in me,
believe
in me. Let me do this.” Audrey was beat-up and tired, but she wouldn't reduce herself to begging. Yet she could tell he wasn't quite convinced that she could win—or maybe even survive—this case. “I have a ton of circumstantial evidence to present.”

“That will convict him on lesser charges where he'll pay a fine and walk in a couple of years. I want that murder charge to stick.”

“The lab can prove the bullet that killed Calvin Chambers came from the gun registered to Smith.”

“Smith claims he couldn't find his gun that day, that it was stolen or one of his boys must have been using it. He had no GPR on him or his clothes. You need a witness to put that gun in his hand.”

“Then I'll find one. I convinced Trace to turn on Smith for a reduced sentence. I'll find someone else to do the same.”

“You know what you're saying, Audrey? You're talking about going into no-man's-land to meet with gang members on their turf—or sitting down in a room with them one-on-one. You're putting pressure on young thugs who'd rather chew you up and spit you out than cooperate.” He swiped his palm across the top of his silver and blond hair and cursed. “And if you're not scared of Demetrius's threats, they will be.”

“If this job was easy, I wouldn't have been interested in it.” She could hear other attorneys and staff members outside Dwight's door closing down their offices and cubicles for the day. But she wasn't ready to quit on this. “I need to be in that courtroom tomorrow morning, Dwight. Please. Maybe if I show a little courage, I'll inspire a witness to show a little courage and come forth, too.”

The D.A. scratched his head, frowned, cursed. But he knew she was right. “All right. You're still on the case.”

“Thank you.” The urge to run around the desk and hug him sparked through her muscles. But that would negate the image of strength she'd just sold him, so she settled for a grateful smile and headed for the door.

“But…”

Oh, the power of a single word. Relief curdled into frustration and made her wary. She slowly turned to find out what the catch was. Co-counsel? Direct supervision from the boss himself? “But?”

“I want you to have round-the-clock protection.”

“We have a state-of-the-art Gallagher Security system installed at home. And there are guards all over the courthouse and this building.”

“I'm talking about a bodyguard. Someone who's with you 24/7. From what I understand, that bomb went off when you were nowhere near a security team.” He picked up the phone. “I'm calling KCPD.”

A bodyguard? Now she'd really look like the spoiled rich girl who bought her own protection while the rest of the city—like those people in the park this afternoon, or Mrs. Chambers—had to face the dangers of this world on their own. She hurried to the desk and pushed the disconnect button. “The city can't afford that.”

“It's not negotiable, Audrey. If Smith and his gang can get to someone from my office, that's the ultimate intimidation. This city will never feel safe again. And I won't stand for them hurting one of my people.” He hung up the receiver and snapped his fingers, a man with a purpose striding out his office door. “I've got an idea.”

Audrey followed him through the doorway, as curious as she was worried about the next kink someone else was going to throw into her life.

Dwight crossed straight past the empty cubicle stations to her tiny office. A compact, raven-haired man got up from the chair behind her desk and met them at the open door. A badge hung from a steel chain around
his neck. The gun at his waist looked as dangerous as the broad stretch of his shoulders.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Audrey hurried to catch up.

Dwight extended his hand. “Officer…?”

“Taylor. Alex Taylor.” The two men shook hands.

“You're the man who saved my A.D.A.'s life today?”

“I guess.”

“Why are you still here?” Audrey quickly pressed her fingers to her mouth, embarrassed to hear her reactive thoughts spoken out loud.

His coffee-colored gaze flicked over her face, but he grinned at the unintended slight. “Good to see you again, too.”

“I'm sorry. I just… You aren't supposed to be…” Damn. She dropped her hand into a fist at her side. She hated when her words got tangled up in her head like that. Taking a breath to buy herself a moment to articulate her thoughts, she tried again. “I thought you went back to the courthouse to get your truck.”

“Already did. I'm parked out front.”

Her boss, however, seemed to have no problem with this man making himself at home in her space. “You know Detective Josh Taylor? He's a good friend of mine.”

“That'd be Uncle Josh.”

“Chief Taylor over in the Fourth Precinct?”

“Mitch is another uncle. I'm Gideon's son.”

“Chief investigator at KCFD.” Dwight nodded, recognizing the name. “He broke that serial arsonist case a few years back.”

Alex's pride was evident in his grin. “Ten years
ago. That was the year I met him and Mom. They adopted me.”

“If you're a Taylor, then you're the kind of man I'm looking for. You on the clock?”

“Not tonight, sir.”

Dwight glanced down at her before making a proposition to Alex. “Feel like volunteering for protection duty with the D.A.'s office?”

“Dwight—” Audrey protested, but these two were already bonding and planning the next few hours of her life for her.

“You want me to drive Audrey home?”

“And stay with her until I can get some kind of official protection detail arranged with the department.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you do with KCPD, Taylor?”

“I'm SWAT, sir.”

Dwight touched Audrey's elbow and pulled her forward, as though one man was handing her off to the other. “Then you're in good hands. You focus on the case, and Taylor here will focus on keeping you safe. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a holiday program with my son and a bunch of first graders to get to.” Audrey turned in the doorway, determined to make her own opinion heard. But Dwight's gray-green eyes seemed almost pained as he pointed to her cheek. “Be sure to have that looked at.” Then he peered beyond her shoulder to Alex. “I'm counting on you.”

“My pleasure, sir.” Alex's hand settled at the small of her back and she bristled. The handoff was complete.

“I won't let you down.”

As soon as they were alone, Audrey shimmied away
from the warmth of his hand and stormed around her desk. “‘My pleasure,'” she scoffed.

Wasn't the whole point of breaking away from her father's influence so that she'd have the ability to make her own decisions? So that she could have his respect as well as his love? So that he'd see her as a grown-up instead of forever his little missy?

And now, without so much as a consultation regarding her wishes, she had an armed escort driving her home. Either her father would think she couldn't handle herself on her own out in the big bad world and would jump in to make things right, or he'd be so worried that his health would start to decline the way it had when her mother had been ill.

Audrey opened her attaché and pulled out the folders which had gotten knocked around during the explosion and Alex's saving tackle, straightened the papers inside each one, and neatly tucked them back into her bag again. Pull. Straighten. Close. Insert. Maybe she couldn't do this. Maybe Dwight and her father were right to worry that she was in over her head. Straighten. Close. Insert.

“Try not to look so disappointed, counselor. It's hard on a man's ego.”

Alex's teasing voice skittered across her eardrums, his tone a calm, patient contrast to her furious sorting and packing. She shot him an irritated look as he sauntered around the desk toward her. “Your ego isn't my concern.”

“The D.A.'s right. After everything I've seen today, you need someone watching your back.”

“I don't need a babysitter,” she informed him. “Having you or anyone else dogging my every move makes it
look like I can't do my job. I studied Demetrius Smith inside and out. I
know
he has a history of using intimidation tactics to get what he wants. I'm prepared for that. I won't give him the satisfaction of thinking he's gotten to me.” She pointed a file out to the empty offices beyond her door. “Yet after just one day of this trial, my own boss thinks I can't take care of myself. I can't accept that.”

Alex caught her hand and pulled the file from her fingers, interrupting her desperate need to maintain control of some aspect of her life.

“How about you accept a recon expert who can make sure all the people around you stay safe?”

“What?” The warmth of his touch was as unsettling as it was unexpected. But her gaze landed on the shredded hem of his sleeve and she couldn't seem to make her fingers pull away from his.

“Maybe you
are
invincible. But the people around you tend to get hurt.”

“That's not funny.” A quick glance up to his rugged face, which needed a shave and a few hours of sleep, told her the teasing had stopped. Had something else happened during her meeting with Dwight? “I thought your friend said no one in the park got hurt this afternoon—that it was mostly property damage.”

“He said no one got seriously hurt.”

A fist of guilt squeezed her gut as she took in the bruised and raw knuckles of the hand holding hers. She followed the snagged forearm of his sleeve up to the rip at his elbow. Her gaze moved higher and her pulse quickened. The black knit shirt hugged his biceps and shoulders, stirring some purposely guarded hormones. But her gaze came back to the drops of blood staining
his sleeve and his scraped-up knuckles, waking something much deeper. She touched her fingertips to the frayed cotton.

He'd ruined his sweater saving her life. He'd gotten hurt protecting her. This wasn't how today was supposed to happen. She curled her fingers into her palm and raised her gaze to his, discovering just how deep and dark those brown eyes were. She was scared to think he could see that deeply into hers. “Are you all right?”