Vow to Protect (8 page)

“I need some legal advice.”

Her pulse beat in her ears, drowning out the low tones of his voice. She'd known she was taking a risk when she agreed to represent him, but she'd thought that risk was political. A tradeoff between becoming a household name and some people despising her for her belief that even monsters should have basic human rights.

Never in her worst nightmares did she imagine her client would one day be standing in her bathroom.

His lips pulled back in a smile, revealing straight, white teeth. “I never thought you'd be tongue-tied, Meredith. You don't seem the type.”

He was right. She wasn't the type. She was cool under pressure and always in control. She sucked in a breath of steam and tried to remember that. “I was just surprised. Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I'll get dressed, then we can talk.”

He leaned back against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm comfortable.”

Panic lapped at the edges of her mind. She had to concentrate. She had to stay calm.

She hadn't taken Kane's case lightly. She knew what he'd done. What he liked to do. She also knew it was the fear that turned him on. The screams. The utter dominance and control.

No one controlled Meredith Unger.

She swallowed into a tight throat. “Are you here to kill me, Dryden?”

“Kill you?” He ran his gaze over her bare skin.

She clutched the towel tighter to her body.

“It's a nice idea, but I have a job for you.”

“A job?”

“You still represent me, don't you?”

“Yes. Of course I do.” She scooped in another breath. The air flowed easier this time. “And as your attorney, I have to advise you to turn yourself in.”

“So I can go back to prison?”

“So you don't get killed. Police from all over the state are looking for you.”

“You think too much of the police. A bunch of idiots.”

“Idiots with guns.”

He waved away the warning with the back of his hand. “I have more important things to worry about.”

More important? “Like what?”

“Family. I'll go back to my cell if I must. But I want to see my family first. They're what really matters.”

His family? He had to be joking. Or more likely, trying to twist her sympathy around his little finger until it was transformed into something unrecognizable. “What does your family have to do with me?”

“You represent me.”

“As far as the law goes.”

“You can represent me in this, too. I need to talk to my son.”

“Cord Turner?”

He nodded. “I need him to convince my daughters to see me again. To smooth things over.”

“Smooth things over?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“You're surprised? Things get lonely in prison, Meredith.” He stepped closer. Reaching out, he brushed a strand of wet hair from her cheek. “So lonely.”

The cold of his fingers trickled into her blood. Stifling the shudder, she forced herself to stand very still, to not let him see the fear building in her like a tsunami heading for shore.

“Your visits always helped, of course, but in the end there's nothing like family. Nothing like a father's relationship with his little girls. Nothing like his camaraderie with his son. And his grandson.” His lips thinned in a smile. “I want them back, Meredith. And I want you to help me.”

“You tried to kill one of your daughters.”

“I didn't say it would be easy.”

She didn't even bother to point out last night's attempt to kidnap his grandson. He obviously wasn't in touch with reality.

Or maybe he was.

She'd learned that with Kane. That even when he seemed out of touch, he wasn't. When he seemed lost in some fantasy, it was only a calcu
lated way to get what he wanted. Manipulation. Domination. Control.

Wanting his family back probably had nothing to do with his feelings for them. She doubted he even had feelings. More likely it was just Kane's way to win her cooperation so he could get his hands on his daughters, kill them, gut them, like he'd done to all those other women.

Like he probably wanted to do to her.

One thing was for sure. She'd feel better if she had more than a towel between her and this monster. Like maybe the police. “Why don't you let me get dressed, then we'll see what we can do.”

His gaze scraped over her. “Go ahead.”

“Could I have some privacy?”

“I'm disappointed in you, Meredith.”

“Disappointed?” The look in his eyes crawled over her skin. “Why?”

“Asking for privacy when you really just want me to leave the room so you can call the police. If you want to get dressed, do it right now. Here in front of me. I promise I'll enjoy the show.”

She let out a defeated breath. So much for that idea. She sure as hell wasn't going to dress in front of him. She'd do whatever it was he wanted in a towel. And then pray for him to leave her alive. “What do you want me to do?”

“Call my son.”

“I don't know how to get ahold of him.”

“He's your client, isn't he?”

“Ten years ago.” A bit of trivia she'd never shared with Kane. “How did you know about that?”

“You think I chose you solely based on your qualifications?” He focused on the swell of her breasts at the top of her towel. Reaching to his belt, he slipped a knife from its sheath. The light over the vanity flashed on the blade. “Of course, if you won't call Cordell for me, I guess those qualifications are all you can offer.”

She gripped the towel, hands shaking.

Kane leaned toward her. Starting at her shoulder, he moved his face along her collarbone and up her neck, taking in a long slow breath through his nostrils. “Mmm. Just the scent I like. Fear.”

“Please.”

“Call my son.” He brought his eyes level with hers. His face was so close, she could smell the mint on his breath. He rested the knife blade flat against the top edge of her towel and pushed the terry cloth down.

She forced herself to think, to hang on to some shred of composure before panic swept her away. The news coverage had mentioned Cord owned a cleaning company of some kind. A cleaning
company would advertise for clients. Perhaps in the yellow pages.

She gripped the towel firmly in her fists, stopping its descent at her waist. “Okay. I'll find a way to reach him. What do you want me to say?”

Cord punched the off button on his cell phone. He hadn't heard his former attorney's voice in ten years, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something strange about the way she sounded that went along with the strangeness of her request.

“Was that Reed?”

He looked up to see Mel standing in the doorway. How long she'd been listening, he didn't know. “No.”

“Who was it?”

He didn't know how to explain the call to her. He wasn't sure what to think of it himself. “Meredith Unger. My former attorney.”

“Your attorney?”

“And Kane's.”

She frowned, a little crease digging between her eyebrows. “That can't be a coincidence.”

“No.”

“What did she want?”

“She was calling about Kane's little wedding reception. She had a few requests to pass along to me.”

“Requests from Kane?”

“He wants me to pick up a few things.”

“Like what?” She arched her brows. Her eyes flinched as if she was preparing for the answer. An answer she knew she wouldn't like.

“Flowers, a cake and, oh yeah, Diana and Sylvie.”

“He wants you to bring your sisters to him? He'll kill them.”

“I think that's the idea, yes.”

“Why does he think you would carry out his orders?”

“Besides the fact that I'm a killer just like him?”

“Don't even joke about that.”

“Who's joking? I told you what he said in the elevator.”

“Yeah, that's what Kane said. But why does he think you'll do it?”

He didn't want to tell her that part. Melanie had enough to worry about, especially where Ethan was concerned. She didn't need more.

“You never answered my question. Why does he think you'll cooperate? Did he threaten you?”

“Not in so many words. But I'm sure whatever he has planned, it's nothing nice.” Of course with Kane, that was a given.

The feeling he'd gotten when listening to Meredith Unger's voice washed over him again. He remembered her being such a forceful personality. Maybe it was because he was only eighteen at the time he'd met her, but she'd seemed so confident, flamboyant even. A woman who was larger than life. “She sounded scared.”

Melanie pressed her lips into a line at the veer of topic. “Meredith Unger?”

“Yeah. Her voice sounded thin. Almost trembling.”

“Having a client like Kane would be pretty scary.”

“Not just that. I mean she sounded really scared. And maybe a little out of breath.”

She scanned his face, as if trying to read what he wasn't telling her. A look of horror rounded her eyes. “You think Kane's giving her those instructions in person, don't you?”

Was that it? Was Kane with Meredith Unger right now? Was that what he'd heard in her voice? Panic? Desperation? “Yeah. Maybe.”

He rested his free hand on the grip of the Glock McCaskey had given him.

Melanie looked down at the gun. “You're not thinking
you're
going to rush over and kill him?”

“No.” It had been just a reflex, reaching for the gun. As much as he burned to take Kane out, he wouldn't leave Mel and Ethan. Releasing the
gun, he pulled his cell phone from his belt and flicked it open.

“Who are you calling? McCaskey?”

Cord nodded. “I think he needs to check on my former attorney.” He punched in McCaskey's cell number.

The detective answered on the second ring. “Yeah.”

“Meredith Unger just called me.”

“What about?”

“She sounded scared.” He needed to tell McCaskey the rest. The request for favors Meredith had made on Kane's behalf. The threat she'd dangled over his head to insure his compliance.

He eyed Mel. He couldn't tell McCaskey. Not over the phone. Not until he'd told Mel exactly what Meredith Unger had implied. Not until he'd leveled with her.

His first reaction had been to protect Mel, but he could see now that wouldn't work. She had to know what she faced. She had to be as prepared as Cord. It was the only way they could be sure to keep Ethan safe.

“Turner?”

He brought his attention back to McCaskey. “You might want to send someone over to her place. Like maybe a SWAT team.”

“Right.”

“And stop by here afterward. I'll fill you in on the rest.” Cord cut off the call. He'd explain Kane's instructions to McCaskey then. Somehow he doubted the detective would like them any more than he did.

He clipped the phone back on his belt and focused on Mel.

“What?”

“Maybe you should sit down.”

“There's more? More you haven't told me?” She whipped her head around, glancing toward the bedroom. Toward their son. “It's about Ethan.”

“Yes.”

“Kane threatened him.”

“Yes.” He swallowed, his throat so dry it burned. “Meredith asked if Ethan was coming to the reception. She wanted to know if he would serve cake.”

Her cheeks paled, chalk white against her dark hair. She scooped in a deep breath as if sucking in courage. “What does that mean, serve cake?”

“He isn't going to touch Ethan, Melanie. I'm not going to let him.”

“I know. I know you won't.”

For a second Cord's chest seemed to swell. It felt so good to hear she believed in him. That she trusted him to protect their son. But he couldn't soak in the feeling. He couldn't let himself enjoy it. He had to focus. He had to come through.

And if he failed, he had to make sure Melanie could take up the slack.

Cord pulled out the pistol again and turned it over in his hands. “Have you ever fired a gun?”

She looked at him as if he wasn't making any sense. “No, of course not.”

“You have to learn.”

She held her hands up in front of her, as if shielding herself from the weapon. “No, thanks.”

“If something happens to me, you need to be able to protect yourself. You need to be able to protect Ethan.”

She closed her eyes. Her body swayed.

He couldn't let her shut him out. This was important. Surely Melanie could understand that. “We can't be unprepared. No matter what happens, we have to be ready. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

She opened her eyes and stared past him. Finally she nodded. “If you think it's necessary, I'll do it. I'll do whatever I have to.”

 

M
ELANIE WAITED
more than an hour until Ethan was settled in with his Game Boy, his earphones blocking all sound except the beeps and explosions and inane electronic tunes, before she made her way back to the entryway where Cord leaned against the wall.

“That took you long enough.”

“I couldn't just leave. I don't want Ethan to know.” Or be anywhere near the gun. If only she could stay far away from the thing, as well. “Let's get this over with.”

He handed the pistol to her, grip first. “I unloaded it.” He held up a cartridge and pulled back the slide to show her.

She didn't see any bullets inside, but then she probably wouldn't recognize one if her life depended on it. At least it wouldn't accidentally go off in her hands. But the thing still looked so cold and hard and downright evil, she had to swallow a surge of revulsion when her fingers closed around the handle.

The thing was cold but not as heavy as she'd guessed. She expected it to smell like the gunpowder in firecrackers, but it gave off a faint, oily turpentine smell instead. But as light as the smell was, it did nothing to calm her nausea.

“It's not alive. It can't bite you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Here.” Cord fitted it snugly into the web between her thumb and forefinger. The warm roughness of his touch spread heat up her arms.

She focused on the gun. As dangerous as the weapon was, it was safe compared to her reaction to Cord's touch and the memories it evoked.
Anything seemed safe compared to that. “Okay. What do I do with it?”

“Stand with your feet apart and one foot slightly back, so you're balanced.” He brushed her thigh with one hand.

She shifted her feet to the position he indicated. “Okay. I put my finger here, right?” She touched the trigger with her index finger and flinched despite herself.

“Slow down. You're getting ahead of yourself. Never put your finger on the trigger until you're ready to shoot.”

She jerked her finger off.

“Just put it alongside, like this.” He guided her finger into place, stretching it out along the gun's barrel above the trigger. “Then when you're ready to shoot, you move it to the trigger.”

“Okay.” She looked down at her finger, studying the way it felt against the gun so she could remember.

He moved his hand to her right arm, pushing up on her elbow. “Hold this arm straight.”

She straightened her arm.

“Then brace with your other hand, arm slightly bent. Put your left thumb over your right.” He pretended to hold a gun out in front of him, modeling the posture instead of touching her this time.

Thank God. She mimicked the way he held his hands, folding her left thumb neatly over her right.

“Now lean forward, relax your shoulders, point at his upper chest and shoot.”

Lifting the pistol high in front of her, she tilted her head to the side and closed one eye.

“Don't aim.”

She lowered the gun. “How am I supposed to hit him if I don't aim?”

“Aiming is great if you had time to practice. You don't. If he's coming at you, he'll be on top of you before you line him up. Just point at his chest and shoot.”

She raised the gun again, pointing through the long entry area, through the great room and out the long bank of windows, now dark.

“Too high. Here.” He stepped up closer behind her. Circling an arm around either side of her, he guided her arms down. His chest pressed against her, pushing her upper body forward and her weight to the balls of her feet. “Now squeeze the trigger.”

Her body tensed. She tried to focus on the gun, the windows on anything but the feel of his body against hers. The heat. The familiar scent. She jerked back the trigger with her finger. The gun wavered to the right. Her whole body flinched and shuddered.

Disaster.

“It's okay. Let's try it again.”

It wasn't okay. Not the feel of the gun in her hand, not the invigorating sense of his body surrounding hers, not the tinny taste in her mouth. None of it was okay. “I don't think I can do this.”

“You have to, Mel. We have to be prepared.”

She didn't want to be prepared. She didn't want to be in this position at all. She wanted to be home with her son worrying about making him do his math homework and getting him to bed on time. Not learning to shoot a gun. Not remembering what Cord's skin felt like against hers. Not feeling so vulnerable and scared and completely out of her element.

“I know how you feel about guns and violence and all of this. But Kane is out there. And like it or not, you might find yourself in a position where you have to use this thing. You have to face reality.”

Her chest ached. “A reality I've tried to get away from all my life.”

“I know. And I'm sorry.”

She wished she could blame it on him. She'd certainly tried. But she knew things weren't as simple as that. As much as she wanted them to be. “It's not your fault. It's Kane's. Now what am I doing wrong?”

He hesitated for a second, then placed his hands on her shoulders and kneaded the muscles. “Just
try to gently squeeze. Gentle. Slow. Take in a deep breath and relax your shoulders as you exhale. When you finish breathing out, pull the trigger.”

She tried not to moan. His hands on her shoulders felt so good. She couldn't remember when she'd last been touched this way.

Probably the last time Cord had touched her.

Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she raised the gun. She could only think about Ethan. She was doing this for Ethan.

She breathed in, then exhaled in an unsteady stream. She jerked back on the trigger, pulling the gun to the right again. Damn.

He stepped back from her and folded his arms over his chest. “I'm getting in the way. I'll stand back.”

She nodded. She needed to concentrate on the gun. On the danger at hand. On protecting Ethan. She pressed her lips into a determined line and raised the gun. Pointing at the lake, she lowered her shoulders and gently squeezed the trigger.

Better. Maybe she was getting somewhere. Maybe she could do this.

“A gun? Cool. Can I learn to shoot?”

Melanie let the gun fall from her hand and clatter to the floor. “Go back to the room, Ethan.”

“I just wanted to see what you were doing.”

“Back to the room.” She didn't want him to see
this. Any of it. “Now, Ethan. I'll be in to explain in a minute.”

He stared at her, eyes wide and not understanding. He turned and ran from the room.

“I'll go after him.”

Mel grabbed Cord's arm. “No.” Tears stung her sinuses and pressed at the backs of her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.

He nodded, as if catching himself. “You're right. I shouldn't go. But do you think you're up to handling it?”

She wasn't up to handling it. Not something this big. Not all alone. What did she know about guns and violence and fear? She'd run away from it. She'd changed her life to avoid it. And she didn't know how to deal with it now. “I tried so hard to keep him away from all this. The guns. The violence.”

“I know. And you were right to do that. You raised a great kid.”

His words glowed through her, more disconcerting than his touch had been. His sincerity. His concern. The gentle way he'd handled their son when Ethan had cornered him about window washing. It would be easier if Cord didn't care about Ethan. Or if he wasn't good with him. It would be easier if she hadn't seen him make her son smile. “He said he wished you were his father.”