The Socialite and the Bodyguard (14 page)

And it went way beyond wanting to protect a client.

Man, oh man.

He was a straightforward guy. He recognized a brick wall when he slammed into it. He knew damn well that Kayla was different from any other woman who’d click-clicked through his life in four-inch stilettos. She was smart and caring. She was fun to be around even when they were fighting. She was the most loyal person her knew. Everything about her made him want her until he was cross-eyed from trying to resist.

But he would. She was heiress to an empire worth obscene amounts of money. She was almost ten years younger than he and—despite her tabloid record—in some ways, infinitely more innocent. He would never fit into her life and she would never fit into his.

She needed a guy who would wear a tux close to every night of his life and go to highbrow charity events with her, someone who played golf with business executives, someone who’d gone to the right university and knew the right people, fitted in with her social circle. Someone who would have children with her.

That last thought hit him harder than the others. Made him ache deep inside his chest. She would be a good mother. She was protective and loving.

He could see her happy. He just couldn’t see himself as part of that picture.

“Hey,” he said, his gut twisting when the moonlight glinted off moisture on her face and he realized that she was silently crying.

He went to her, kneeled in front of the bed and took the gun from her, laid her back and covered her with a blanket. “Try to get a couple of hours of sleep. Everything will look better in the morning. We’ll talk then. We’ll come up with a plan.” Then he backed away before he could do anything stupid. Like kiss her.

The key was to get out fast.

Five more feet.

Two.

He was at the door, about to congratulate himself on his self-restraint, when he heard her ask the question he both dreaded and desired hearing.

“Could you please stay?”

S
HE WOKE
midmorning, surprised that nobody had gotten her up before that. She had to have gotten a half dozen calls by now. But her phone wasn’t on her nightstand, and Kayla could guess why. Nash was keeping the world at bay.

He’d spent the night on her reading chaise, watching over her. And somehow in the night, a tenuous trust did build between them. Now, with sun pouring in the window, her suspicions and fears of the night before seemed exaggerated.

She’d sprayed Nash with pepper spray. And Mo had gotten hurt. All because of her.

She sat up and buried her face in her hands. She allowed herself one full minute of wallowing and hating what her life was becoming.

By the time she’d showered and was coming out of the bathroom, Nash was standing in the bedroom doorway. He extended his hand toward her with her cell phone in his palm.

“Your uncle called a couple of times.”

A pang of guilt shot through her. She called back immediately, not completely surprised when Nash stayed where he was instead of walking away.

“Did you have a good flight back?”

“Worked the whole time. I have some good news for you on the European projects. Come to dinner tonight?”

Nash shook his head. Her uncle’s voice was strong enough that he could hear it standing next to her.

She wanted to go. She wanted to tell Al everything, wanted him to forgive her, wanted to forget that she’d ever doubted him.

“Tonight would be—”

Nash glared, shaking his head vehemently now.

“Tonight would be tight for me. Can we do tomorrow?” she corrected.

Nash gave her an approving nod. She didn’t care about his approval. She just wanted her normal life back.

“You’re not mad at me about anything, are you? You sounded strange on the phone yesterday. I know I said what I said about that last boyfriend of yours, but I only wanted the best for you.”

“You were right.”

“We’re good. Really. I promise.” God knew, she’d overstepped some serious boundaries last night herself. She only hoped that her uncle would understand and forgive her.

Because her father hadn’t considered Al “core team,” it had taken too long for Kayla to do so. Time wasted. And her father’s attitude of mistrust had come back when she’d thought Al would want the company more than he wanted the family.

They needed to start fresh. Tomorrow she would make sure that her uncle knew that she loved him. They talked for another minute or two before hanging up on a positive note that made Kayla feel better.

Nash was still there, considering her, the look in his eyes unreadable as usual.

“I’m going tomorrow,” she said to preempt him. “He loves me. He’s like a second father to me. You fired Mike and Dave. But don’t think you’re going to stand between me and my family. Back off, Nash. Al has nothing to do with anything.”

“I don’t think he does,” he said mildly.

“Then why can’t I see him tonight?”

“A friend is running a full background check on him for me, and that won’t be in until tomorrow morning.”

Her emotions were tied up in knots. She was scared of whatever attack might come next, felt guilty for doubting her uncle, was thoroughly confused by an elemental attraction to Nash that she no longer knew what to do with. If she ever had. Deep down she knew a quick affair was not the right solution. But she didn’t believe anything more than that was possible.

She went back to the thing that lay most heavily on her mind. “You’re not to harass my uncle. Promise me, Nash.”

“Fine. I’m not going to harass him,” he said.

N
ASH CHECKED
the front of the house first, walking along the sidewalk a couple of times, noting which windows were dark. Then he went around to the back alley and surveyed the situation there.

He loved Kayla’s loyalty, but nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to stop him from keeping her safe. If she trusted her uncle blindly, good for her. But he didn’t trust anyone to be near her until he figured out what was going on and who wanted her dead.

He didn’t expect to find anything here tonight. Hell, he was
hoping
not to find anything. If her uncle was involved, it would break Kayla’s heart. Nash stepped up on a garbage can to reach the lowest window. Al Landon’s bedroom. He hadn’t been in there yet. He’d searched the man’s office when he’d been here before, along with the kitchen, living room and the basement. Then Kayla had interrupted him. And he’d followed her home. Thank God.

So the bedroom might hide some secrets yet. The bedside light was on. A laptop lay on the nightstand. A half-open closet door revealed a small built-in safe. Nobody in there.

He got his pocketknife out and inserted the blade into the infinitesimal space between the window and the frame. Then pulled it back and ducked as Al came in.

“It is exceedingly good to be home, I tell you that.”

Nash couldn’t see who he was talking to.

Could his visitor be the guy who had followed Kayla across the park the night before?

Nash chanced a look, and found himself eye to belly button with a naked woman whose barefooted steps he hadn’t heard on the plush carpet as she’d walked over to the window. An expanse of pink skin and a ruby bellybutton ring. He was pretty much prepared for a lot of things, but not that. Caught him off guard for a second.

He looked up, wanting to know who the hell that was. She could be a clue to all this mess.

She looked down at the exact same second. For a heartbeat, Nash hoped she hadn’t seen him. He was dressed all in black. But then she screamed and she was no slouch. He could swear the windowpane rattled.

He made no sound as he jumped off the garbage can and disappeared into the darkest corner of the alley, out of her sight, within a flat second. And swore. There’d be no getting into that bedroom tonight, not with the two of them in there and alert.

Or, depending on how paranoid the man and his sweetheart were, they might even call out the cops. That would be the perfect ending to an already annoying day. While Kayla had been taking care of business with her agent, he’d been following leads and working his tail off only to come up with no usable information.

Nash sped his steps and moved out of the alley, onto the street, disappearing into the park a few seconds later.

He watched the front of the house from the cover of the bushes. No cops came. He considered again whether he should try to get inside, but came to the same conclusion as before. Too risky. But he
would
come back another time, regardless of the background report. Even if Al hadn’t committed any crimes in the past, it didn’t mean he wasn’t doing so now. He still had the strongest motive of anyone on Nash’s list. Not something he was going to discount easily.

He wanted Kayla safe, even if she would strangle him if she knew that he was here. She thought he was out in the parking garage checking her and Greg’s cars for signs of tampering.

He wanted Kayla, period.

He shook his head. The year was barely half over and he’d managed to do a great number of stupid things already. But the stupidest by far would be falling for Kayla Landon.

He made up his mind then and there that he wasn’t going to do it.

It was close to midnight by the time he returned to her penthouse. She was already asleep. He looked in on her, standing in the door too long, wishing he could shrug off his clothes and climb into bed with her. Even if it was just to hold her.

Man, he was pitiful.

He pulled back, talked to Mo and Joey. They made a battle plan for the next day. He’d tell Kayla to recommend a restaurant for dinner with her uncle. Joey would go and shadow her the whole time. Mo would stick with Greg. His leg was all patched up, but he could use a day of rest. Nash would check the uncle’s bedroom, the only room he hadn’t searched in the house the last time, while the man was out. He wanted to be done with that and be able to fully focus on other possible suspects.

He took second watch, midnight to 3:00 a.m., then went to get some shuteye in one of the guest bedrooms while Mo took over the kitchen until six. Joey would be up by then. Nash expected to sleep in until seven and still be up before Kayla. It didn’t work out that way. He was woken by Joey at six-thirty.

“Yo. Cops are here.”

Nash blinked the sleep from his eyes, rubbed a hand over his face as he sat up in bed. “What the hell for?”

“They want Kayla.”

That got him up fast. But she beat him to the door, Mo standing protectively beside her. To his credit, he didn’t ogle the cream silk robe that did little to disguise her curves.

“Margaret Miller said we could find you here, Miss Landon,” the older of the two cops said, while the other one, who didn’t look old enough to be out of high school, nervously shifted from one foot to the other. He definitely did notice the robe.

Nash disliked him already, but the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach was distracting him from a full-blown fit of jealousy. Still, just to make things clear, he came up behind Kayla and put a hand at the small of her back.

“Did something happen with Peggy?” she was asking, her voice sleep heavy.

“Miss Miller is fine.” But they definitely had bad news. The look of sympathy in the man’s eyes was unmistakable. He was black, late fifties, probably near retirement. Probably had a niece like Kayla somewhere.

“My uncle?” That came out in a higher, more worried note. She was definitely awake now.

“I’m sorry to have to give you this news. Your uncle was murdered last night.”

Her legs folded.

Nash was there to catch her. He glared at the cops and carried her into the living room. The two officers followed. The younger one kept looking at him. He elbowed his partner. Then that one began scrutinizing Nash.

“And you would be?” the man asked at last.

“Miss Landon’s security.” Nash handed her the glass of water Mo brought from the kitchen.

“How?” she asked weakly, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Knife wound to the chest,” the young one put in.

Her sharp intake of breath echoed in the momentary silence.

Then the older cop pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and held it out for Kayla. “Margaret Miller, the housekeeper, said she’d seen someone earlier in the evening lurking at your uncle’s bedroom window. I was going to ask you if you know this man, but I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Nash silently swore up a blue streak as he looked at his own image on the paper. Al’s mystery lover was apparently his housekeeper. And the woman had a damn good memory. She hadn’t missed a detail on Nash’s face.

“Your name is?” the cop asked him, holding the paper in his left, leaving his right hand free and near his weapon.

“Nash Wilder.”

“Were you at Mr. Landon’s residence last night?”

Nash’s jaw muscles tightened. The doorman saw him go out and come back a few hours later. The times would match. He hadn’t done anything. He weighed the situation and decided that the easiest thing was to go with the truth. “Yes.”

Kayla’s eyes went wide, then she looked away from him as if not able to bear the sight of him.

“Listen, it’s not—” Nash began, but the cop cut him off.