Bodyguards Boxed Set

by Julianne MacLean

  “She was hysterical when she left. She cracked up the car... It wasn’t until after the police came, and I identified the body, that I found out exactly what had happened that afternoon.”

  Cord rammed his hands into his pockets, and begrudgingly Gifford admitted that this had to be excruciating for him, too.

  “How did you find out?” the younger man asked.

  Gifford paced. “She left a letter. She must have written it when she went up to pack.” Tears stung his eyes. “It certainly didn’t excuse what you two did, but it put everything in a different light. I could have forgiven her, especially since I recognize how much I was to blame.” He turned to face the other man. “But it was too late.”

  Unwillingly, Gifford acknowledged the moisture in McKay’s eyes.

  “I might even be able to forgive you, McKay, but I could never forget. I could never allow you and my daughter to—”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can never forgive myself.” McKay’s voice was hoarse, and Gifford felt an unwanted pang of sympathy for the man. McKay had only been eighteen.

  “A relationship with Helene’s daughter is out of the question,” Gifford told him.

  McKay winced. “I know.”

  “How did this happen, then?”

  “I take full responsibility for it.”

  “Was it just a convenient lay for you?”

  “No!” The vehemence in McKay’s tone was convincing. “No, never.” Then he faced Gifford squarely. “I love Stacey.”

  Gifford hadn’t expected that. He sank onto a bar stool. “And she thinks she’s in love with you.”

  “She says she is.”

  “So, she’s going to get hurt.”

  “Yes. As I said, it’s my fault for letting it go this far. Would you like to find another bodyguard?”

  Gifford looked over McKay’s shoulder and saw Stacey come to the doorway. “No, I won’t let you do that,” she said firmly. “But there’s no time to argue this out. Lauren’s in the emergency room at the hospital. We’ve got to go there right way. She asked especially for you to come, Dad.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  * * *

  “ARE YOU COMFORTABLE?” Stacey asked as she settled Lauren into the sofa bed that Cord had occupied for the last few weeks.

  Lauren nodded, and Stacey guessed that she was embarrassed about lying to her best friend about her “accident.”

  “Can I do anything for you?”

  “Just sit with me for a while.”

  Sighing, Stacey sank onto the mattress.

  “I’m sorry,” Lauren said. “I know Cord was using this room, and you felt safer with him so close.”

  “It’s not that.” She looked around, noting that Cord had taken all his gear with him to the spare room near her father’s suite. “Things have gotten complicated.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s okay. Now’s not the time to get into it. Lauren, tell me what really happened?”

  Lauren’s eyes filled. “I told you. I fell down the stairs.” She fingered the cast on her left arm. “I broke it because I was clumsy.”

  In a Herculean attempt to control her anger, Stacey said quietly, “I know Mark did this to you.”

  Lauren shook her head. “No, he didn’t. Don’t worry, I’ll be gone tomorrow night and you and your father won’t have to take care of me anymore.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re going to need help for a while. You’ll stay here.”

  “You don’t need this. Not with what you’re going through.”

  “Hush. I want to be here for you.” Stacey wished the sedative they’d given Lauren would start taking effect. Her friend was getting agitated.

  As if on cue, Lauren yawned. “I need to—”

  “You need to get some rest.”

  Finally, Lauren’s eyes closed. “All right, but I’ll go tomorrow.”

  “We’ll talk about it then.”

  Once Lauren was asleep, Stacey went in search of Cord. The room he’d taken was right next to her father’s and she found him, curiously, standing at the master suite’s doorway. Following his gaze, Stacey took in her father’s king-size bed, heavy wooden dressers and the fieldstone fireplace in the corner.

  “Cord.”

  He jumped, then turned around. His face was white. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “You were a million miles away.”

  “Years away,” he said, and glanced back at the room.

  “Cord, we’ve got to talk.”

  “All right.” His voice was raspy, and unbelievably sad. He followed her into the room where he’d put his belongings. “How is she?” he asked.

  “Physically, she’s fine, except, of course, that her arm is fractured in two places. Emotionally, she’s wasted. She still insists she fell down the stairs, when I know damn well that animal did it.”

  “Abuse is a complicated thing.”

  “You’ve had experience with this?”

  “Some. Before I got into special protection.”

  Stacey cocked her head. “There’s so much I don’t know about you.”

  The color that had returned to his face leeched out.

  “Cord?”

  “Sit down, Stace. We need to talk about something.”

  “Yes, about us. Lauren’s staying here doesn’t change things between us.”

  “No, but your father’s awareness of the situation does.”

  “Daddy will get used to the idea of our being together.”

  “Never.”

  “Well, maybe not under his roof. When this is all over, I’ll move out if I have to.”

  Wearily, Cord dropped to an easy chair. Stacey followed him, and curled in his lap. His arms went around her. “Sweetheart, this isn’t the answer.”

  She kissed his neck. “I told you I was going to fight dirty.”

  “Let’s just lay off the whole discussion now, all right? After seeing Lauren hurt so badly, we need to talk about the stalker.”

  “What’s the connection?”

  “I haven’t told you this before, but I think the stalker might be someone you know.’’

  She drew back and met his gaze. “What?”

  “I’ve thought all along that he knew too much about your whereabouts.’’

  “Who do you suspect?”

  “Everyone. Including Mark Dunn.”

  Stacey felt her stomach roil. “Oh, my God.” Cord pulled her tight. She let him hold her close for a moment, then drew away again. “Why haven’t you told me this before?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I wanted more proof.”

  “I don’t like being kept in the dark about my own safety.”

  She felt him stiffen. “I’m doing what I think is best.”

  “Well, as usual, we have very different views on that. I’m going to say this only once. I don’t ever want you to lie to me. And not telling me something is as bad as lying. I find lies by omission very hard to forgive.”

  Cord swallowed, but didn’t respond. Stacey was shocked. Usually, he met her head-on in their disagreements.

  His guilty look unnerved her, and she wondered what hid behind those bleak blue eyes.

  * * *

  STACEY LOOKED UP from her sketchbook at Cord, who stood in the doorway of her room. He leaned against the jamb, watching her carefully. “You’ve got to get out of here for a while,” he said.

  “I’ve been to work every day.”

  “I know. But between taking care of Lauren for the past week, and our separation you look like you could use some fun.”

  “Do I get to choose what it is?”

  “Absolutely not. But what I have in mind will please you almost as much.”

  “Impossible, but tell me your plan, anyway.”

  “Let’s go buy Megan a birthday present.”

  “All right, McKay. You came pretty close.”

  “How about some pierced earrings?”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope, bet
ween the two of you, you wore me down. But only one in each ear. She’s too young for the menagerie you put in yours.”

  Stacey eased back on the chair. “You seemed pretty taken with my ears last weekend. How quickly you forget in three days.”

  His mouth went dry. “I haven’t forgotten anything.” Including the fact that I have yet to tell you about Helene. But, damn, things had been so hectic with Gifford’s return and Lauren’s “accident” that he hadn’t had a chance. “Come on, I’ll even spring for ice cream.”

  “Only if it’s chocolate chip mint.”

  Cord turned away so she wouldn’t see his reaction to the taunt. They’d done delicious things with Stacey’s favorite dessert during their marathon of love-making.

  They hit the downtown mall at about 7:00 p.m. Cord followed Stacey to a store called We’re All Ears, where they purchased tiny gold hoops and round posts and a gift certificate. They were headed for the ice cream shop, when they passed a huge department store that advertised matching outfits for adults and kids. A lavender lace mini-dress snagged Stacey’s attention. “Wait, Cord, look.”

  He looked, and pictured Stacey’s long legs displayed in the revealing garment. Her words Sunday morning haunted him. Can you really live your life knowing I’ll be doing the things we did together this weekend with another man?

  “It’s too short.”

  “Oh, don’t be a stick-in-the-mud. I want to try it on. Besides, Megan would love the miniature one.”

  Cord agreed only because, suddenly, he was struck by the realization that he’d probably never get to do this with her again. Never shop for a dress with her. Never pick out something for Megan with her. Never pretend he had a right to be with her.

  And when he told her about Helene, she’d never look at him again with that sexy, teasing glint in her eyes.

  “All right.”

  It took them forever to find the right department in the huge store. The mall was new, complete with megastores like this one, and an enclosed parking garage where they had left the truck. As Stacey flicked through the racks, Cord waited patiently, savoring the moments with her.

  When she found the two dresses, he eyed hers disapprovingly, “like I said, it’s too short. And it will be too tight. Let’s go.”

  “No way. I like the look on your face when you think about me in this dress. Let’s find the fitting room.”

  The nearest one was several feet away. Cord followed her to it, and stood outside waiting. Sure enough, when she came out, her appearance pole-axed him. The dress was too short. Too tight. And so sexy it made him hurt.

  “Forget it.”

  She giggled. “An act of God couldn’t keep me from buying this.” She disappeared into the fitting room.

  He smiled as he waited for her to change.

  Leaning against the wall, he was distracted by a salesclerk coming toward him. She was a little on the plump side, her hefty bosom heaving as she came up to him. “Do you know any first aid? There’s a child two departments over who’s having some kind of attack. She’s only five. I’ve called 911, but we’re afraid...”

  All thought fled as Cord pictured Megan in a similar situation. Operating on well-honed police instincts, he followed the woman through the store. He was ten feet away from a crowd of people obviously gathered around the child, when he realized he hadn’t told Stacey to stay put. He stopped abruptly. Turning to the clearly breathless clerk, he said, “Go back to the fitting room. Find Stacey Webb—about five-three, one hundred fifteen pounds, dark hair and eyes. Tell her what happened, and bring her over here.”

  The woman started to speak, when a loud piercing wail rent the air. Cord dashed toward it, separating the flock of onlookers. On the floor, a child Megan’s size convulsed. Her head was thrown back and her tiny body shook in grotesque contortions. “I’m a police officer,” Cord said firmly. “I know what to do.” Kneeling, he took over.

  The child was calm in ten minutes. Cord looked up to see ambulance attendants coming toward him with the same salesclerk who’d drafted him to help. Stacey was not with her. Alarm prickled his spine. He jumped up as the medics bent to take care of the child.

  Roughly he grabbed the woman’s arms. “Where’s Stacey?”

  The florid-faced clerk puffed for breath. “I had to meet the ambulance people at the door so they’d know where to go. I’m sorry, I couldn’t go get your girlfriend.”

  His heart thudding in his chest, Cord dashed away from the woman and raced through the two intervening departments. He reached the fitting rooms, a deadly foreboding pulsing through him. He headed straight into the cubicles. Wildly whipping aside each curtain, he searched for Stacey.

  She was gone.

  Calling upon all his training, he willed himself to stay calm. She could be paying for the dresses. No cashier was open near them, so he methodically checked the closest one, then the next. Damn, this store was big. After four stations, and no one had seen her, he began to panic.

  Stacey had disappeared from right under his nose.

  * * *

  HESITANTLY, STACEY OPENED the door to the parking garage. She’d made the decision to go to the truck when she’d exited the fitting room and Cord had not been there. Assaulted by an uneasy feeling, she’d briefly searched the area, then stashed the dresses in a nearby rack. Cord had told her once, when he’d first begun to guard her, that if they were ever out and got separated, to go straight to the car and lock herself inside. On the few occasions that they’d gone anywhere, he’d made sure she noted the location when they parked.

  Unfortunately, this time they’d had to park in the multi-level garage. She’d debated the wisdom of returning to the car alone, but she couldn’t think of another way to find Cord. And they had agreed on this plan.

  Twilight streamed in from the open sides, but it was still dark and shadowed. The muggy night accented the smell of oil sitting in pools on the concrete under the cars. A slight breeze raised goose bumps on her arms; her footfalls on the ramp to level seven echoed through the still, silent area. She bit her lip. It would be okay. She was scared, but Cord would already be at the truck, or he’d come soon.

  A horn honked two levels below; she started violently. Then she laughed nervously at how jumpy she was. Calm down, Stacey. You have no reason to think anyone’s here. All she had to do was hurry to the truck, get inside with the spare keys Cord had given her and lock the doors. In minutes, she reached the vehicle and grasped the handle.

  A hand slapped across her face.

  Stacey froze when she felt the prick of a knife at her neck.

  Oh, God, it was the stalker.

  “Gotcha,” he said hoarsely. His voice was gravelly. After a moment’s paralysis, she tried to remain calm, to observe the details which might reveal the man’s identity. But she started to shake when he moved his hand from her mouth down to her breast.

  “Hmm, they feel as soft as they look.” He lowered the knife to her other breast and laid the flat part of it against her. “Gonna cut ya here first, whore, then lots of other places.”

  Oh, God, please, help me.

  But in a crystal-clear moment, Stacey realized it wasn’t up to God. It was up to her.

  Don’t panic, Cord would say.

  She forced herself to think.

  Don’t aggravate him, he’d tell her.

  She slumped against him.

  “No struggle, girlie? Aw, where’s the fun in that?”

  He wedged the knife between the bodice of her dress and her chest and jerked his arm. The buttons flew onto the pavement. He returned the blade to her skin. It was cold. Slicing the wispy lace of her bra, he nicked her in the process. She didn’t look down. She knew she’d panic at the sight of her own blood.

  Wait for an opening.

  A motorcycle backfired somewhere in the garage. The man jerked around, maintaining his hold on her waist, but swinging away the hand that held the knife.

  Pulling back, she jabbed her elbow into his ski-masked face. His
teeth cracked and he let go of her waist. She ran, cursing the sandals she’d chosen over sneakers. She headed out blindly. He tackled her before she’d covered a few feet. She fell to the concrete with a thud, arms flying up to protect herself. He tried to cover her, but she caught him in the groin with her knee. He groaned like a wounded animal, letting go of her enough so that she could scramble away. She struggled to her feet and ran again. The exit sign was up ahead. She was almost to the ramp, when he grabbed her from behind. The force of his weight pitched her forward and she banged her head against the rusted iron railing.

  “Damn bitch,” he snapped. “I’ll cut you up right here.”

  A meaty arm encircled her neck and clinched. She couldn’t breathe. In a last-ditch effort to save herself, she reached up with her right hand and dug her nails into his face, through the ski mask.

  Suddenly, the door above them swung open and Cord barreled through. The last thing Stacey saw was him leaping over the railing right on top of the two of them. Then there was only blackness.

  * * *

  THE EMERGENCY WARD was deserted as Cord sat by Stacey’s bed. She’d regained consciousness in the ambulance and had weaved in and out of it since their arrival an hour ago. Her father sat on the other side of the bed in sober-faced silence.

  “If you want, I’ll call the Anderson people again,” Cord told him.

  “Why would I want that?” Hands steepled, Webb stared over at him.

  “I bungled it tonight.”

  “You saved her life. At a cost to you,” he added, nodding at the sling around Cord’s neck and arm.

  “I’m all right. It’s sore as hell, but it’ll get better.” When Gifford was silent, Cord confessed quietly, “I lost her.”

  “How did that happen?”

  Briefly, Cord explained the emergency in the store.

  “You had to help,” Webb said.

  “I should have alerted Stacey. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.”

  “I thought you’d be flaming mad at me.”

  “Cord,” Gifford said hoarsely, and Cord realized that was the first time Gifford had called him anything but McKay. “You’ve protected Stacey well and saved her life at least twice. I’m grateful. I’m not about to criticize the job you’re doing.”