by Joanna Wayne
“I’ve heard that.”
“Are you a movie star?”
“No.”
“Then I guess you’re Mommy’s friend.”
Nice the way four-year-olds categorized things so simply. Either the round hole or the square one and no indistinguishable shapes that didn’t fit. He was pretty sure the relationship he’d had with Kelly wouldn’t meet Dr. Phil’s criteria for friendship.
The rustle of silk caught his attention. He turned and felt a slow burn deep in his gut. This was not the vivacious high school beauty who’d sent his world spinning fourteen years ago. She was a fully developed knockout.
“Sorry to be so long. My parents just heard about last night’s break-in on the news. I had to assure them a dozen times that Alex and I are fine. I thought it best not to tell my dad you were our bodyguard, however.”
“Yeah.” It was all he could manage with his throat feeling as if he’d swallowed an avocado whole.
“Better go to the bathroom before we leave, Alex,” she said.
Alex jumped from the sofa and planted her hands on her tiny hips. “I don’t need to.”
“Go anyway. It’s easier here than at the theater.”
Alex puckered her lips as if she thought going to the bathroom on demand was a ridiculous idea, but she skipped away, leaving Jack alone with Kelly.
“You look nice,” she said.
“This old thing?” He tried to make light of the moment, though the feelings coursing through him were anything but. “You, too,” he said, uttering the biggest understatement of his life.
The long green gown hugged her magnificent body, then widened to an enticing swirl around her ankles. The bodice plunged to reveal seductive cleavage and emphasize her perfect breasts. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, determined to keep things in perspective.
Alex skipped back into the room. “Now can we go?”
“As soon as Mr. Sanders gives the word.”
“Let’s do it,” he said. He opened the door and gave the area a quick once-over. Nick’s paid police patrol had been supplemented by one very efficient PPS employee.
“The elevator won’t stop until you reach the lobby,” Paul said. “The car’s waiting at the side entrance. Sara Montgomery’s driving the escort car tonight.”
Sara was one of PPS’s top agents. She looked like a model and handled a gun like a sharpshooter. And she could spot trouble faster than crows could find roadkill. He was glad to have her on his team.
“Is PPS always this overpowering?” Kelly asked.
“We do what we think is necessary. The break-in and murder last night necessitates a higher level of security. Fortunately, your husband gave us the go-ahead to do whatever was needed.”
Jack took Kelly’s elbow and Alex grabbed Jack’s hand, pushing her small palm against his much larger one. He was all about protection now.
Friday, 7:40 p.m.
Mile High Theater for the Arts
THE MAN WATCHED from a distance as Nick Warner acted the role of devoted husband and loving father. He was riding a high, thinking that nothing could shake his world. But the bigger they were the harder they fell.
Nick and his beautiful wife, Kelly, would both be going down.
Chapter Three
Friday, 10:08 p.m.
Mile High Theater of the Arts
Jack stood as the credits started to roll, reaching forward and tapping Kelly on the shoulder as he did, their prearranged signal that it was time to leave the theater.
She jumped to her feet and tugged Alex from her chair. “Time to go, sweetie,” she whispered.
“I want to stay with Daddy.”
“We’ll see him later.”
“You don’t have to leave so quickly,” Nick said, standing himself now and swooping Alex into his arms. “It’s safe in here. Smile and act happy.”
Jack tensed. He didn’t need this. Their chance to sneak out early was disappearing fast as others started to stand and gather their coats. He put his mouth to Nick’s ear. “Put Alex down. Now!”
“Or what?” he mocked. “You’ll shoot me?”
It was damned tempting. The lights went up, unleashing a flurry of activity. A rush of people hurried to congratulate Nick, who had pushed past Kelly and into the center aisle. A tall blond guy with a booming voice led the cheering cavalry and blocked the escape route.
“Magnificent,” he crowed, while others shouted their compliments.
“You’re the man!”
“A sure winner. You’ve never looked better.”
“Superb acting.”
Basking in his glory, Nick let Alex slide from his arms. Jack shoved his way into the aisle, picked up Alex, and then crawled over a row of seats to get to Kelly. He nudged her toward the center of the row, a safer situation than trying to propel them through the mass of bodies crowding around Nick.
Jack studied the crowd. “Stay right with me,” he instructed as he moved toward the left aisle. In theory, Nick was right that there should be nothing to worry about inside the theater. Everyone entering the building had been through a metal detector and a bag check. The only armed people inside should be him, other PPS employees there with their celebrity clients, and the regular theater security. Still, this was a change in plans, and Jack didn’t like deviations.
Finally, he saw the break they needed and herded Kelly toward a side exit. He called in the change to Sara just as he spotted a man in a tuxedo rushing toward them. The guy looked familiar, but Jack couldn’t place him.
“Stop right there,” Jack said, his hand resting on the butt of his gun.
The man’s brows shot up. “Do you know who I am?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“It’s okay, Jack. He’s a friend.”
“What’s going on?” the friend asked.
“Nothing,” Kelly answered. “I just want to get Alex out of the crowd. Call me later.”
“Why don’t I drive you and Alex back to the hotel?”
“Thanks, but we have a ride.”
“With him?” He nodded toward Jack.
“Yes. I’ll explain later, Drake. Right now I just need to get out of here.”
Drake. The name triggered recall. No wonder the guy looked familiar. He was Drake Patton, one of the hottest of the hot, even giving Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt a run for the box office money. Jack disliked him instantly, but he refused to let himself think about why. He had to stay focused on the task at hand, and the task was getting Kelly and Alex to total safety.
He hurried them toward the door, almost making it before a middle-aged woman dripping with diamonds latched onto Kelly’s arm.
“Nick was fantastic. You must be so proud of him.”
“Yes, I have to go, Olivia.”
“But you must come to my party. It’s in Nick’s honor. I’ve invited the whole cast and everyone who’s anyone.”
“I have to take Alex back to the hotel.”
Kelly was insistent, but the woman seemed to be looking right past her. The blank stare made Jack nervous. He pried the woman’s hand from Kelly’s arm.
“Sorry, Olivia,” he said, “but we do have to go.”
Sara was just outside, parked beneath the overhang, the engine of the PPS escort car running. Jack didn’t breathe easy until both his charges were inside and the car was speeding away from the venue.
“Where’s Daddy?” Alex asked.
“Daddy had to stay at the theater for a while so he could talk to the people who came to see him in the movie.”
He stayed because he was a royal jerk rushing off to party with a bunch of publicity seekers when any normal, red-blooded man in the place would have been glad to go home with Kelly.
Even Drake Patton. No, especially Drake Patton. The way he’d looked at Kelly yelled lust—and more. The guy had a thing for her. She might have a thing for him, as well.
Not that Jack cared. Why should he? Kelly was just a job. A blast from the past that he was totally o
ver.
“Thanks, Jack,” she whispered.
He turned and let their gazes meet. “Just doing my job.”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “You do it well.”
Totally over her, and that unexpected burning in his chest was from the extra jalapeños he’d put on his burger back at the hotel.
Saturday, 2:19 a.m.
Warner’s hotel suite
KELLY WOKE AND SAT UP in bed quickly, thoughts of the previous night making her blood run cold. But tonight all was quiet. Moonlight gleamed through the soft white curtain at the window, painting the silent room in silvery streaks.
She scooted from her bed and tiptoed to the other one to check on Alex. She was sound asleep, her cheek resting against the plush belly of her Pooh bear. Kelly kissed her softly on the cheek then went back to her own bed, though she was wide-awake now.
A line of dim light stared at her from beneath the door, reminding her that Jack Sanders was only a few steps away. She’d offered to have a roll-away bed sent up for him, but he’d assured her that he preferred the couch. She pictured him there now, wrapped in an extra sheet the housekeeping staff had brought up for him, his head resting on one of the hotel pillows.
Jack, the protector. Most definitely not the same old Jack.
Fourteen years ago, he’d been the danger. He rode his Harley way too fast, drank beer long before he was legal, had a tattoo on his right forearm. Surely that was still there.
Kelly’s minister father had seen him as a trouble maker who was bound to wind up in prison before he was thirty. He’d grounded Kelly for two weeks when he’d smelled whiskey on her breath and she’d guiltily confessed to having sipped from Jack’s flask when she and her friends had run into him at the lake.
She’d missed her senior prom because of that, and the beautiful blue dress she and her mother had bought in Sacramento on Kelly’s eighteenth birthday had been returned unworn. Prom night had started as the worst in Kelly’s life.
It had ended in her sneaking out of the house and losing her virginity to the dangerous and incredibly sexy Jack Sanders. It was the last time she’d seen him—until now.
She crawled back into bed and closed her eyes, then opened them to the shrill ring of the hotel phone. She dived for it before it woke Alex. It wasn’t until she heard Jack’s voice on the line that she remembered his rule that she was to let him screen all calls. She didn’t speak, but kept the receiver to her ear.
“This is the University of Colorado Hospital. I’m calling for Mrs. Nick Warner.”
“I’m Mrs. Warner,” she blurted out. “What’s wrong?”
“Your husband was brought to the hospital a few minutes ago by ambulance.”
“What happened?”
“He was shot twice in the stomach. He’s lost a lot of blood and is experiencing other complications. The doctors are trying to stabilize him for surgery.”
“Is he conscious?”
“Yes, and asking for you. I’d advise you to come as quickly as you can.”
“He’s going to make it, isn’t he?”
“He’s critical. The doctor will see you and explain more when you get here. Your husband’s in the Intensive Care Unit. Take the elevator to the third floor and stop at the nurses’ station to your right.”
“Where is the hospital?”
“I know where it is,” Jack said.
Crazy, but she’d forgotten he was on the line. She hung up the phone and started unbuttoning her pajama top with trembling fingers. Nick, shot twice in the stomach. The shooter had to be the same man who’d broken into their rented house last night.
Nick had made sure she and Alex were safe, but apparently he hadn’t been nearly that protective of himself. That was like him to take partying more seriously than precautions. But then the way he celebrated life was the first thing that had attracted her to him.
There was a soft rap at the bedroom door just as she’d shed her top. “Come in,” she murmured, reaching for the lavender sweatshirt she’d changed into after the premiere.
“Do you want Sara to stay with Alex or do you want to take her to the hospital with us?”
With us? Twenty-four/seven. Of course he’d be going with her, though now that the shooter had found his real victim, he was probably on the run. “Who’s Sara?”
“Our chauffeur to and from the premiere. She’s one of our agents.”
“She’s a PPS agent? But she’s so pretty.”
“She’s top-notch.”
Kelly hated the thought of leaving Alex with anyone, but she didn’t want to wake her and drag her to the hospital, either, especially when she wasn’t sure exactly what she’d find when she got there.
“Are you certain she’ll be okay with Sara?”
“Totally safe. Plus if Alex wakes up before we get back, she’ll recognize Sara. Alex asked her a ton of questions on the way back from the theater.”
Sara and Alex had bonded. And this way Alex would get a full night’s sleep. “How long would it take her to get here?”
“Under five minutes. She took a room in the hotel, planned to relieve one of the other agents on duty here at 3:00 a.m., but we can bring someone else in for that.”
“Get her,” she said, making the only decision that made sense.
He stepped back into the living area and closed the door behind him.
Kelly shivered from a chill that had settled deep in her bones. This was supposed to have been Nick’s crowning moment. Now he was fighting for his life.
Fate was a master of cruel deceptions.
Saturday, 2:56 a.m.
University of Colorado Hospital
KELLY STEPPED INTO the curtain-enclosed cubicle to find Nick lying strapped to a narrow bed, his face pasty-white, his eyes closed. The numerous tubes and wires attached to his body shocked her at first, and she clasped the canvaslike fabric of the curtain in her shaky fingers.
A nurse stepped to her side. “Are you Kelly?”
“Yes. Kelly Warner. I’m the patient’s wife.”
“Your husband was calling for you when they first brought him in. You and someone named Mitchell. Thankfully, he’s quieted now.”
Kelly walked to the edge of the bed and placed her hand on one of his. His eyes remained closed. “Should I say something to him or let him rest?”
“You can try talking to him. I’m not sure if he’ll hear you or respond.”
Kelly leaned in close. “I’m here, Nick.”
His body jerked and the muscles around his eyes twitched as if he were trying to open them.
“It’s okay, Nick. I’ll be right here. The doctors are taking good care of you.” This time there was no response. She turned to the nurse. “Is he in pain?”
“No. He’s heavily medicated. The twitches are reflexive movements.”
The bleached white hospital gown covered Nick’s legs and private parts, but not the bloodstained bandages wrapped around him from his abdomen to his ribs. “How extensive are his injuries?”
“Dr. Riuski will explain that.”
“Is he a surgeon?”
“No. He’s an internist and the senior E.R. doctor on the night shift. He’s called in a surgeon and a cardiologist, though, and they’re both on their way to the hospital. I’ll let Dr. Riuski know you’ve arrived.”
The nurse glanced toward Jack, who was standing a few feet behind Kelly. “Visitors are restricted to family.”
“Jack is family,” she lied, not wanting to get into a lengthy explanation of the situation.
The nurse nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
Kelly listened to the heavy wheezing from Nick’s chest, traced the drawn lines in his face with her gaze, listened to the rhythmic click of the heart monitor as erratic crests and dips passed across the screen.
“Noooo. The gun.”
Kelly squeezed Nick’s hand. “It’s okay. You’re in the hospital. You’re safe.” She wasn’t sure he heard her. He seemed to be out of his head.
“Damn list. Nooo. Nooo.”
Kelly leaned close to Nick’s ear. “You can tell me, Nick. I’m right here.”
“Noooo. T…C…M. Noooo.”
The muttering dissolved into groans. Kelly stepped back from the bed. “Why would someone do that to him?”
“There are lots of crazy people in the world,” Jack whispered. “They don’t need logical reasons for what they do.”
Nick jerked again, and frustration balled in her chest. “Where is that damn doctor? Why aren’t they doing anything?”
“I’m right here, Mrs. Warner, and we’re doing all we can.”
She turned at the voice and saw a young, lanky man in rimless glasses and white lab coat standing just behind Jack. He looked drawn, as if he’d dealt with one too many emergencies tonight. Or as if he dreaded talking to her.
“I’m Kelly Warner,” she explained, “Nick’s wife.”
He nodded. “I’m Dr. Riuski. Why don’t we step outside the area?”
She followed him out of the ICU and into a hallway that was pungent with the stringent odors of antiseptics and bleach from the solution a janitor was using to clean the gray floor tiles.
A microphone over her head blared. “Paging Dr. Alvarez.” A nurse hurried by with a wheeled tray of implements. Two burly orderlies wheeled a gurney in their direction.
“There’s a small conference room just down the hall,” Dr. Riuski said. “We can talk better there.”
Unlike the nurse, the doctor didn’t question Jack’s presence. They took a right at the nurses’ station and walked a few yards before the doctor stopped and ushered them into a room that appeared more like a makeshift staff lounge than a conference room.
There were cabinets, a counter and a small rectangular table surrounded by six metal folding chairs. A pot of coffee rested on a two-station brewing machine next to an opened package of cookies.
“Would you like coffee?” the doctor asked.
“No thanks,” Kelly said, afraid her stomach would reject anything in its shaky condition.
“I’ll take a cup,” Jack said.
“I’ll join you,” Dr. Riuski said, pulling two foam cups from a wall-mounted dispenser. He poured a cup for both of them. There was a jar of creamer and a mixed collection of sweeteners, but both men took theirs straight.
