Runaway Heiress

by Jennifer Morey

  Didn’t she think she already had intrusive security? “Noted.” He wouldn’t reveal his thoughts, not yet.

  He took in the railing with a view of downstairs and then stepped into a wide arching stone hallway with nineteenth-century mirror, lantern-style lighting and floral crewel drapes. He passed a walnut-paneled library with vaulted ceiling and early evening light bringing out the colors of books. A Persian rug and old-fashioned seating were arranged before a fireplace. “Were you into castles and princesses as a kid?”

  “What girl isn’t?” she asked sleepily. She’d taken a painkiller a couple of hours ago.

  Finley entered a room at the end of the hall. Rose, soft green and cream colors hit the eye first. Then the rich detail came out. The bed looked French, probably hand carved, and a toile fabric chair and ottoman were angled before six sash windows. An etched glass closet door was open to reveal a large walk-in closet with organized walnut shelves and more seating.

  Finley pulled back the soft, downy covers. Jasper laid her down and her arms stayed around him as their gazes met. He couldn’t look away and watched her eyes slide closed once, twice, three times, and then they didn’t open. It had to be one of the sweetest sights he’d ever experienced.

  “Your quarters are across the hall from the miss,” Finley said. “Cook has prepared dinner. Where would you like it served?”

  “Right in here.” Jasper went to one of the pretty chairs and sat.

  “Excuse me?”

  Noticing Finley’s alarm, he explained. “My first concern is for Sadie’s safety. Best if you tell everyone that’s nonnegotiable.” He nodded toward his charge. “She’s as vulnerable as she’ll ever be in this condition. I won’t take a single chance.” He adjusted his seat. “In fact, why don’t you bring a cot or something in here? I’ll be sensitive to her need of privacy.”

  Finley seemed to smother a pleased smile. “Yes, sir.”

  “Where did she find you?” Jasper asked before the estate manager could turn to leave.

  “I had to take classes on how to manage property like this,” Finley said. “She sent our cook to culinary school.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Jasper said.

  “No, sir, I didn’t. I’ll let the miss tell you.”

  “Why does she have such robust security?” Jasper asked. He got that protection was necessary when you were as wealthy as Sadie, but her fence seemed overboard. Was there a reason or was she just paranoid? She did not strike him as the paranoid type.

  “It’s remote country out here,” Finley said.

  “How many guards?”

  “Eight.”

  Eight guards for a residential home. “I’d like to talk to the one in charge.”

  “That’s Dwight Mitchel. Former Special Forces. Had a bit of financial trouble during his divorce. You wouldn’t know it but Sadie has more heart than most in this world. When most first meet her they might get the wrong impression.”

  Jasper’s impression had been based on attraction. Her car would stamp her as rich. Is that what Finley meant?

  “She likes her money but she spends most of it on her charities.” Finley looked up and around the no-expense-spared bedroom. “A first look at her doesn’t reveal much about her other than appearances, but inside she’s a well of humanity. You have to see her as she lives here to truly know her.”

  Comparing the Sadie he’d seen step out of a Ferrari to the one he met in the hospital, he had to agree. She was more than a rich, beautiful woman to Jasper, and just how much had him putting himself in check. Not only would living so remotely bore him to death, the idea of domesticating gave him hives.

  * * *

  Sometime later, Sadie roused. Jasper heard her and came awake, something he’d learned to do long ago. She moaned in pain. He rose up from the cot Finley had provided along with some bedding. Going to the bedside table, he helped her sit up against several pillows. While she overcame a wave of agony, he took a pain pill from its container and handed that to her along with a bottle of water.

  After she swallowed and sat with her eyes closed awhile, she blinked and met his. “What are you doing up?”

  “Watching over you.”

  At first a warm and content look drooped her eyes, but then she saw the cot. Her eyes opened more. “What is that?”

  “I asked Finley to put it in here. I’m going to guard you until you can move around on your own.”

  “That isn’t necessary. In fact, it’s...it’s improper and...presumptuous on your part!”

  “I can see how you’d look at it that way. I can assure you my only motive is to protect you.” And get to the bottom of her mystery—which included far more than Bernie King’s murder.

  “There’s plenty of other rooms. Go stay in one of them.”

  “I will—when you’re better and not this defenseless.”

  Her mouth opened and a few audible breaths stammered out. “Are you always this bullheaded?”

  He grinned, a natural thing her petulant face and direct question brought on. “Yes. I have a reputation of solving cases faster than most. No one’s ever been harmed under my watch, either.”

  “You’ve done this before?”

  “Many times.”

  “What are you? A detective or a bodyguard?”

  “I was a cop and a detective before I joined DAI. I often stayed with family of victims until I caught the killer.”

  She studied him thoughtfully. “That sounds unconventional.”

  “It is, which is why I like working for Kadin Tandy.”

  Her questions seemingly satisfied for now, she glanced down at herself, smoothing covers and patting the demure neckline of her nightgown. Then her hand stilled.

  “How did I get into this?” she asked.

  “One of your maids changed you. I waited outside the door. She said you woke but barely.”

  She blinked once, and again. Then her gaze traveled down his body and back up to his face, noticing him differently than before, less combative, much warmer. Even under the influence of painkillers she seemed rested, and as long as she didn’t move, relatively pain free.

  “Do you feel up to talking?” he asked.

  “Sure. About what?”

  He moved around the bed and went to the chairs, sitting down. “Why don’t we start with Bernie? Who was he to you and when is the last time you saw him?”

  She rolled her head and looked up at the ceiling, obviously upset. “He’s what made me start the Revive Center. I met him on a trip to San Francisco, one of my few and far between getaways. He was sitting against a building, holding a cup and nodding off. He’d been drinking. A policeman approached him and tried to order him to leave.” She rolled her head to look at him. “Bernie chose an upscale spa to take his nap.” She smiled fondly and looked back up at the ceiling. “I intervened. I don’t know what made me. I took Bernie to my hotel, sat him down in the restaurant and gave him coffee and food. When the alcohol wore off, he told me his story. He lost his wife to cancer a few months ago, and then his daughter committed suicide, leaving him alone and facing a crisis he didn’t have enough strength to handle.”

  Jasper let her have a few moments to her thoughts, feeling how deeply moved she’d been with Bernie. She showed him a glimpse of her true self, not the one hiding in Wyoming.

  “On that particular trip I was scouting for a location for a business. I hadn’t decided what kind of business yet, I only knew I wanted to be involved in some kind of charity. Animal rescue. Health. I hadn’t thought of the homeless, but meeting Bernie made me realize how passionate I felt about them.” She looked at Jasper again. “People will shove the homeless aside before they’ll do anything to fix the problem. Where do people expect them to go? They wouldn’t be in the street if they had somewhere else to go. Ber
nie had nowhere to go. He made me want to do something.”

  “Bernie stayed with you while you started the Revive Center?”

  “I put him in rehab first. He had to quit drinking. Once he completed that, then I set him up in an apartment. He needed psychiatric care because of his losses. He did that pretty extensively for a few months. By then I had some space lined up and the apartment building under construction. I kept Bernie in his own apartment. We’d meet once a week so I could check on his progress. He slowly improved. We got to know each other very well.”

  She drifted off and Jasper would love to know what her last sentence had made her remember. How much had she told Bernie? Maybe Bernie—other than Steven—was the only other living soul who really knew Sadie Moreno from a remote area of Wyoming who seemed to have carried at least some of her past with her to her new life, namely, the Ferrari.

  “Why did you move to Wyoming?” he asked.

  Her rumination on the past ended and Jasper watched her eyes grow guarded as she looked at him. “I wanted to get away from the life my father had.”

  “What kind of life was that?”

  “Rich.” She looked away.

  “Why do you have such tight security here?” he asked.

  “I like to feel safe.”

  “Locking your doors doesn’t do that?”

  After a few seconds she met his eyes across the distance between the bed and the seating area. “What are your plans for the investigation? What will you do to start?”

  Okay, that was all he’d get out of her for now. “I have a message in to the lead investigator. I’ll talk to him first and ask for a copy of the file. Then I’ll spend a fair amount of time researching that.”

  She nodded and then closed her eyes, the painkillers apparently taking effect.

  Jasper stood. “I’ll let you get some rest. I won’t be far.” He put a small, round device with a green call button down on the table, within her reach. “Press that and I’ll be here.”

  “What is this?”

  “A pager.” He showed her the pager clipped to his belt.

  Her eyes rose up to his and he felt her admiration along with her wryness. “A little over the top, isn’t it?”

  “For your security?” He grinned with his teasing. “Maybe.”

  She smiled slightly in return.

  He left her, hoping he could get more information out of her security officer.

  * * *

  Dwight Mitchel met him in the drawing room, another princess caliber work of architecture and interior design. Incredible crown molding bordered a recessed white painted ceiling with a huge round and tan light fixture. Pretty, ivory diamond tufted back sofas and an armless settee with throw pillows in purple, green and orange surrounded an oval glass table on an irregularly striped area rug. Although more modern than other rooms in Sadie’s home, the decor still held a decided English flair.

  The guard wore jeans, combat boots and a gun harness over a black henley and stood near a drinks trolley, holding a bottle of sparkling water. A big Colonel Miles Quaritch from Avatar, he even had a scar on his right temple.

  Jasper went to him and shook his hand.

  “We’ve heard all about you,” Dwight said with an unsmiling face.

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “How can I help you?” It wasn’t a cordial question. Jasper looked past this man’s impassiveness and saw distrust.

  “I’d like you to walk me through your procedures. Roles and responsibilities, that sort of thing.”

  “You don’t have to worry, Mr. Roesch. Sadie’s security is well covered.”

  “I need to be familiar with your protocols so I know what everyone will do in the event of an emergency, that’s all. I have no issue with the security here. In fact, it seems rather excessive.”

  The ex-military man didn’t falter. “We do regular patrols around the perimeter of the property. I can give you copies of the schedule. There are two guards posted in the mechanical room 24/7. We communicate via radio.” He tapped his ear where a clear coiled wire disappeared into his shirt. “One guard at the gate. Cameras have eyes on the gate and the property inside the fenced area.”

  Jasper hadn’t expected to be disappointed with the level of security. He did, however, need everyone on the security team to trust him. Taking out his wallet, he removed a business card.

  “In case something happens. I’d like to be informed.” He pointed to the radio. “Maybe you could get me one of those.”

  Dwight eyed him, scrutinizing him as though sizing him up, the most body language he’d seen from the man so far. “Aren’t you a detective? You’re helping the miss solve Bernie’s murder case, isn’t that right?”

  “That is. But since the attempt on her life, my role has expanded. At Dark Alley Investigations, we take the safety of our clients very seriously.”

  “All good to know, Mr. Roesch, but we’ve got her safety taken care of. As long as she’s in this house, it’s my job to protect her, and I take that very seriously.”

  He could see that Sadie was in good hands, but the lack of trust could pose a problem.

  What was it about Sadie that instilled so much loyalty? Everyone called her the miss. And everyone was fiercely protective of her, especially of her past, it appeared. What was going on with that? And did he really want to know? He should be relieved that he wouldn’t have to worry about her security. He was here to solve a cold case, not satisfy curiosity over a woman. A beautiful woman. A stunning, warm, intriguing woman who stood apart from any other...

  All the more reason to keep his distance. And his hands to himself.

  “Why so much security?” Jasper asked.

  “You’ll have to ask the miss.”

  “I already did.” Jasper left it at that. Dwight didn’t seem like an ignorant man. He had to know Jasper was well aware that he and most likely everyone here protected Sadie against anyone learning about her past. And her past had nothing to do with Bernie King’s murder.

  Or did it?

  Chapter 2

  Two weeks later, Sadie was ready to step up her physical therapy. The doctor ordered her to rest for two weeks with walking and strength-building exercises and now she had the go-ahead to partially return to normal. Not full steam yet, but on her way.

  She put on her suit with help from the maid Finley had hired. He always thought ahead like that. Ever since she’d found him and brought him to her facility, they’d grown close. He joined her program when the Revive Center was still under construction and she’d rented a large older home nearby. He’d been one of her more sensitive cases. He’d lived a normal life up until he lost his job and couldn’t find another. The bank kicked him out of his home and he’d found himself homeless. Sadie had spent extra time with him and helped him back onto his feet. Even after he’d been offered a job, he’d turned it down and declared he wanted to serve her for a profession.

  Sadie had argued with him. He could do anything he wanted. Why chose servitude?

  “I was a waiter before I went to prison for drugs,” he’d said.

  Finley had a terrible addiction problem. Her center had addressed that first. He’d spent three months in rehabilitation before entering the Revive Program. By then the building had been complete. He had trouble finding a job with the felony on his record, and with the facility complete and pressure from Steven to keep a low profile, she had to return to Wyoming. She’d taken Finley with her and he’d studied how to manage a large house. He’d never given her a reason to regret doing so. And now he was like a brother to her. Of all who worked for her, she trusted him as much as Dwight, who’d been with her the longest.

  Dwight had his own story of how he’d come to work for her. He had gone through hell in his divorce. Women could be as abusive as men. His ex was liv
ing proof of that. She had been verbally abusive and went after him for as much money as she could drain. She wasn’t ambitious and definitely not a productive addition to any community. She just plain did not want to work. She wanted everyone else to pay her way. And Dwight had, up until Sadie had hired him a new lawyer. All that alimony went away real quick. The last Dwight had heard, his ex had found a new victim to bleed dry of heart and soul—and income.

  Sadie had accumulated a group of fine individuals who only needed a second chance. Her clan was a lot like the group on The Walking Dead. Everyone came from different backgrounds but they were all very close and cared deeply about each other’s welfare. While The Walking Dead group shared survival from zombies, hers shared survival from real, hard-hitting, life-altering circumstances.

  Sadie stepped down the stairs into her indoor pool. Windows took up two walls, framed in pine logs and beams, showing off a panoramic view of the Tetons. Water trickled from a fountain into the pool. Tan-and-beige stone surrounded the pool and stone of differing texture and size made the walls. Dark wicker seating in three corners provided splashes of contrasting color, along with some trees and plants. On warm days the end window opened to an outdoor patio. She didn’t spend much time out there. Something about outdoor patios demanded a crowd. She went out there only when she threw barbecues for the household staff.

  As soon as she reached deeper water and tried to swim, sharp pain stopped her. She almost went under before regaining her footing.

  “Finley said you were in here.”

  She turned in the water to see Jasper coming down the stairs in swimming trunks. Finley must have hooked him up with those. But it wasn’t the swim trunks that tickled her heartstrings. His rippling chest and abdomen. How that had her senses singing. Jasper...wow. Nice.

  She’d seen little of him as she recovered, spending much of her time resting in her room or the library. He’d established a rapport with the lead detective working Bernie’s case and studied the file. She’d heard him on the phone a couple of times, asking questions, focusing on where the body had been found and what witnesses saw. So far he hadn’t progressed any further than the San Francisco police, but he’d asked questions and looked in directions no one else had yet. Something would develop soon. She felt confident of that, and in him.