Hard to Handle

by Raven Scott

  They were silent to and from the meeting. Back at the apartment, Kaylee immediately went to her bedroom while Sam did his perimeter check. In the den, he logged on to his computer and quickly reviewed the day’s worth of security footage for the apartment. All was clear. He took off his jacket and shoulder holster, securing his Beretta near the pullout sofa, where it was well concealed but quickly accessible. Then he changed out of his shirt and slacks and into athletic shorts and a T-shirt. Finally, he sat down and opened the folder with the report on Kaylee’s past.

  As expected with such wide parameters, there were pages of information on her. Sam was interested in only one thing. In the search field, he created a Boolean string for any reference to an injury, assault, or grievance. Anything to explain why she felt the need for self-defense classes and practiced to the extent that she could take down a serial attacker so effectively.

  Several references were filtering in. Sam took a deep breath and read through them. Then he did another search string, and another, spending over an hour reading the results. There was nothing that came close to being important.

  Sam sat back, frustrated with the lack of progress on his two main objectives. First, the only competitor for the building contract, Ross Construction, was a ghost organization. It was a front, and the people responsible for threatening Kaylee were not easily connected to that operation or the evidence so far. So Sam was no closer to protecting her by eliminating the threat.

  Secondly, he was not closer to understanding anything about Kaylee and her role in this whole thing. There were too many odd facts that on their own seemed normal, but when put together just didn’t make sense. And like Sam’s dad always said, if it didn’t make sense, it probably wasn’t true.

  He sat there, brooding for another few minutes. Then, on impulse, he did a search for Antonoli in her information. Numerous references came up. He scrolled through them, starting with the most recent, and successfully resisted the urge to read the content. The last thing he needed was to learn more details about their current relationship. At the bottom of the list, he found two hits from about eighteen months ago, connected to a Clement Literacy Foundation event. One was an invite list, the other a photo of Antonoli and Kaylee from a media article. The last link was from seven years ago. It was an email distribution list for a high school reunion.

  Sam leaned forward. Strathford College, a very exclusive private school, had sent an invitation to the entire graduating class for their five-year reunion. There were about sixty email addresses on the list in alphabetical order. Kaylee was under M, and near the bottom there was a T. Antonoli. Sam quickly opened the Internet browser and did a search on Strathford College. It was an exclusive private school in Arlington, Virginia, that offered boarding facilities and catered to international students. A few more Web searches and it was confirmed. Kaylee and Terry Antonoli had gone to high school together, graduating the same year.

  He stood up and paced the small room. Kaylee had told him that she had met Antonoli at a Clement Foundation event. It wasn’t a lie, but like everything else she had told Sam so far, it wasn’t the complete truth. Why would Kaylee conceal how she really knew Antonoli? If they weren’t friends, in a class of only sixty people, they had at least known each other. The man was married and sleeping with his employee; how could knowing him from high school make the situation any more ugly?

  Sam felt a heavy black weight at the pit of his stomach. These lies and half-truths confirmed that Kaylee was manipulating him. Professionally, it was annoying and impeded his ability to provide the level of security required to ensure her safety. But he had no doubt that he would figure out the truth eventually. That’s what he and the Fortis team did best. It just might take a little longer and require more resources than he’d anticipated.

  But the feeling in his stomach was not professional. It was personal, and it was fueled by dark, rapidly growing anger.

  Four years ago, Mikayla Stone-Clement had come close to destroying him. As Kaylee, she had sparked an excitement and attraction that he hadn’t ever felt before. In those short couple of days, Sam had fallen for her, and he’d thought about the possibility of what they could share emotionally and intimately. For years after their time together, Sam would remember her in his dreams. Or he would be out somewhere and smell her perfume. He would kiss a woman for the first time, hoping to experience that electricity, but it never happened. Then, eventually, Sam was glad it didn’t reoccur. That kind of desire for one woman was too dangerous, especially if she could never truly be his.

  That desire had turned him into a man with no integrity. The stark truth was that he had unintentionally betrayed a friend, then knowingly kept it secret. And, every day since, Sam had regretted how he handled the situation, despised acting against his nature to hide the truth. Because, deep down, he knew that he had done it for Kaylee. But he was done being a fool for her, and he would not be manipulated again.

  At eight-thirty, Sam went into the kitchen to get something to eat. Kaylee was not in any of the living areas. Roast beef and roasted potatoes were in a container on the counter, and a mixed green salad was in the fridge. Kaylee had explained yesterday afternoon that Silvia worked during the week, taking care of Niko, the shopping, and the housekeeping. She made dinner if needed and stocked the freezer with meals for the weekend. Sam put together a plate and ate at the table. He was walking back to his room when he noticed the large sticky note on a console table near the front entrance. It had his name on the top and provided written outline of Kaylee’s schedule for the next two days, starting with a walk for Niko before bedtime. There was no mention of a morning run.

  Sam clenched his jaw and folded up the note. He found a similar message on Tuesday night.

  By Wednesday, the silence between them started to feel normal, and less awkward. If anything changed in her calendar, she would send him a text message with the details. The space was now wired with the new video surveillance and security equipment. He was able to watch the feed on his phone, and receive alerts of any unauthorized entry into the office. That day, they arrived at the office by eight-thirty. Then, later, Sam drove Kaylee to Brooklyn, where she spent most of the afternoon at a site visit for one of her projects.

  They returned to Antonoli shortly after four o’clock, and Kaylee went back to work at her computer. Ten minutes later, Sam’s phone vibrated with a new message.

  I’m going out to dinner with my brother at six o’clock. He’ll meet us here. Restaurant TBD.

  Sam already knew the specifics on George Stone-Clement, Jr., including recent pictures and current activities. On paper, Junior seemed to be a typical twenty-seven-year-old man from an affluent background. But by six-thirty, Junior had yet to arrive. Annie and Paul had left about an hour ago. Kaylee finally walked out of her office, obviously ready to leave for the day. She wore a black dress that hugged her body and ended just below the knees. Her heels were black and white and impossibly high, but she walked in them perfectly, her hips swaying gently with each step.

  He grit his teeth, and looked down.

  “We’ll meet him outside,” Kaylee said as she walked toward the front entrance. They were the first words she had spoken to him that day.

  Sam nodded. She stood beside him while he set the security alarm; then he opened the main door, holding it wide as she walked through.

  “There he is,” she said.

  In the few seconds it took to activate the digital lock outside, Sam saw Kaylee wave one of her hands in the air and turned his head to look out at the street. There was a young guy waiting on the opposite side of the street for the traffic to slow down so he could cross. From a distance, his appearance matched the pictures of Kaylee’s brother. Sam and Kaylee started down the front stairs of the brownstone when Sam’s cell phone vibrated and chirped loudly with a very distinctive alarm. He didn’t need to take the device out of his pocket to read the warning. It was a sophisticated and very sensitive radio-frequency sensor indicating that a bo
mb detonator had been triggered within a one hundred feet radius of their position.

  With little time to react, Sam grabbed Kaylee around the waist and pulled her tight against his body so she was completely covered by his size, then twisted them both to face the building and leapt forward. They slammed down hard on the top landing just as the black BMW blew up, spraying burning metal and debris everywhere.

  CHAPTER 15

  Kaylee didn’t understand what was going on. Suddenly, she was flying through the air, crashing to the ground, face down with a heavy weight squeezing the breath out of her body. An enormous boom reverberated around her, shaking the surface beneath her face like an earthquake. The chaotic sounds of shattering glass and ringing car alarms swiftly followed. But they were muffled, and her ears were ringing.

  When she finally opened her eyes, it was to squint through the cloud of dust and ash that was blowing around her. It was so thick that Kaylee coughed uncontrollably the moment she tried to breathe deep.

  “Kaylee?” The crushing weight eased up, and Sam’s face was suddenly in her line of sight. Their eyes met, and his were an intense blue, his face creased with concern.

  “Stay down,” he demanded, still covering her body like a shield.

  She nodded, coughing some more. Then she remembered the sight of Junior about to walk across the street toward her.

  “Junior,” she gasped, trying to push up onto her knees. Her hands stung as they scraped over tiny shards of glass. “Where’s my brother?”

  But Sam still held her down.

  “Where’s my brother!” Kaylee yelled, now struggling to get up and look around. Fear and desperation were starting to overwhelm her. It felt like forever before she felt Sam grip her shoulder to help her up. It was only a couple of minutes.

  When they stood up, Kaylee turned around to see exactly what had happened. It took a while for her to comprehend the scene in front of her. Not five feet away, the black carcass of a large sedan was engulfed in flames. Cars on the street were stopped in both directions with their drivers and passengers looking around. Several of them were on phone calls or taking pictures and videos. Pedestrians and shopkeepers were rushing around, trying to assess damage and injuries. Several people were lying on the street, either too stunned to get up or too injured to move. Where is Junior?

  Sam was trying to move her. He had an arm around her waist and was pulling her back from the scene.

  “Let me go!” she snapped. “I have to find my brother!”

  “I need to get you off the street, Kaylee,” he said sharply, forcibly moving her. “Get inside the building. I’ll find your brother.”

  She looked up at him, eyes wide and glistening.

  “I promise,” Sam added. “I will find him. But I need to get you inside.”

  Suddenly the reality of the situation hit her. She fell back a step, looking around wildly. It had been a car bomb. Someone had just blown up the car Sam had rented two days ago.

  “Let’s go,” he urged, standing behind her protectively while unlocking the office doors. There was a gun in his right hand. The narrow sidelights on either side of the entrance were shattered, with chunks of decorative glass littered everywhere.

  “Stay right here, okay?” he continued when she was over the threshold. “The security surveillance will let me know if anyone tries to enter. Do you understand, Kaylee? Do not leave the office.”

  “They tried to kill me,” she whispered, looking into his eyes.

  “No. This wasn’t a miss. They just got more coercive.”

  From the now empty gap next to the doorway, she watched Sam fly down the front stairs and onto the street, pistol held in both hands but pointed down. He walked around the burning car as though examining it, then took out his cell phone and took pictures. Then he ran to the other side of the street, stopping briefly to talk to anyone he passed along the way. There was an older woman lying down on the sidewalk in front of a flower shop with blood covering her shoulder. Sam crouched down beside her for a few seconds. Then Kaylee watched as he took off his jacket, folded it up, and gently tucked it under her head like a pillow. He spoke to her again, then was up and running.

  Where is Junior?

  Kaylee looked back and forth along the street from the narrow opening, trying to catch a glimpse of her brother’s blue suit. Her eyes returned to Sam, who was now going door to door, looking inside each of the retail spaces. Finally, he came out of the deli with his arm wrapped around Junior. Kaylee gripped the window frame, weak with relief. But, from a distance, she could see that Junior was limping and had a cut on his forehead with a small amount of blood dripping down the side of his face.

  The sound of sirens was now audible and getting increasingly louder. Within a few more minutes, the street was blocked off by several police cars. Three ambulances were on site attending to those injured, including Junior. It was so hard for Kaylee not to run out and hug her brother, but she stayed exactly where Sam had left her until he returned. And she was very aware that she had created this chaos, and that she was directly responsible for all the injuries and damage.

  Once the area was secured by the NYPD, Sam ran back to join her in the Antonoli offices.

  “How’s Junior? Is he okay?” she immediately demanded, rubbing her hands together.

  “He’s okay,” he told her with an assuring hand on her shoulder. “There’s a superficial cut on his forehead, and he scraped his knee when he hit the ground. The paramedics are working on him now. He’s going to be fine.”

  Kaylee swallowed, breathing deep and trying hard not to start crying uncontrollably.

  “Can I see him?”

  “Soon. He knows you’re here, and you’re okay. But I need to get you back to the apartment as soon as possible,” Sam explained in a low, soothing tone. “I’ll have a car here in a few minutes, then I’ll take you both home.”

  “Will we be safe there? They must know where I live,” Kaylee asked as panic started to rise up again.

  “As safe as anywhere else at this point. But I’ll be reviewing all options,” he told her.

  “Okay. Okay,” she repeated, trusting him completely.

  “Christ, Kaylee! Your hands,” he cursed, grabbing both of her hands and turning the palms up.

  They were scraped, torn, and crusted with dried blood. She suddenly became aware of how they throbbed.

  “Come over here and sit down,” Sam urged, leading her over to the receptionist desk and pulling out Annie’s chair so she could sit in it. “I’ll have a car here in just a few minutes. But let me get someone to have a look at those cuts.”

  “This is all my fault,” she stated softly. “I did this.”

  “Kaylee, these fucking arses are dangerous cowards. You can’t feel responsible for their actions.”

  “No, listen to me,” she insisted, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “I have to tell you something.”

  Sam paused, as though reading the seriousness in her eyes.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up and back to the apartment. Then we’ll talk.”

  She sucked in a shaky breath and nodded.

  He quickly brought in a paramedic to clean and bandage her hand, creating a mitten made from sterile gauze. It was almost seven o’clock when a dark SUV arrived, parked discreetly just outside the crime scene. Sam directed Junior into the back seat, then finally walked Kaylee out of the Antonoli offices toward the vehicle.

  “Jesus, Mikayla!” her brother swore when she entered the vehicle and sat beside him on the back seat. They immediately hugged each other tight.

  “Are you okay?” she whispered near his ear.

  “Yeah, I think so. The explosion knocked me off my feet for a second. But it could have been worse, right?”

  She didn’t want to think about it.

  “Who is that guy?” Junior asked when they finally pulled apart. He gestured with his head to Sam, who was now sitting in the front passenger seat and looking bigger than ever. The SUV took off, quick
ly heading toward Lower Manhattan.

  “He just said you were safe and with him,” her brother continued.

  Kaylee sighed. “He’s a friend and he’s been helping out for the last few days,” she replied evasively. “It’s a long story.”

  “Is he a detective or something?”

  “No.”

  “Well, he definitely acted like one, the way he directed everyone and got the street blocked off.”

  Kaylee just looked away. Now that she was away from the scene and sitting safely beside Junior, the adrenaline rush was slowly ebbing away. She felt physically exhausted and emotionally raw. Junior must have seen it reflected on her face. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her up against him. Kaylee cried silently for the rest of the ride.

  Moving from the car and up to the apartment felt like a military operation. Sam and the stranger who drove the car covered her from both sides, and they had Junior walking in front. Once inside the apartment, the stranger took a position by the door and Sam immediately got on his phone.

  “Do you need anything?” Kaylee asked Junior as they walked slowly together into the great room. He brushed the cut over his eyebrow, held together with a butterfly closure, and winced in obvious pain.

  “I wouldn’t mind some pain reliever, if you have any,” he admitted.

  “Sure. Go sit down. I’ll bring you some.”

  Kaylee brought him back some acetaminophen and a bottle of water. She sat beside him while he swallowed the pills. They were still for a while until, eventually, Junior turned on the televisions. One of the screens showed the evening news, with live coverage of the aftermath. The caption on the screen read: Car explodes in Midtown. Police suspect foul play—investigation under way.