Guardian Groom

by Shelley Cooper

  Her mouth was a grim line. “That’s what I was afraid of. Tell me more about stalkers, please.”

  “They’re usually lonely, troubled and smart. They pursue no matter what.”

  “How do you know so much about them?”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve run up against one. I’ve made it my business to know.”

  She reached out a hand toward a blown-glass figurine on the fireplace mantel, and he shook his head at her. “Don’t touch anything until the police have dusted for fingerprints.”

  Her hand fell to her side. “This guy can’t be sane.”

  He knew it wouldn’t make her feel any better, but she had to know what she was up against.

  “Odds are, he isn’t. Ninety-five percent of stalkers suffer from mental disorders. They’re schizophrenics, manicdepressives, people with delusions. That said, experts agree only two percent of them are actually dangerous.”

  “Great,” she said, her gaze focused at a point over his shoulder. “Just my luck to get one of the dangerous ones.”

  The confusion in her voice dragged at his heart. Damn. He still had feelings for her. He’d thought she’d killed them the day she’d walked out on him, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

  So he wasn’t totally immune to her. Big deal. Some things in life just weren’t worth pursuing. Chief among them was the small ember in his heart that refused to die out no matter how much water he tossed on it. He’d learned his lesson the first time. He didn’t need it reinforced.

  Nodding toward a doorway at the far end of the room, he asked, “Where’s that lead?”

  “The kitchen.”

  “Come on. We’re going to check out the rest of the house.”

  “Why? You said we were alone.”

  “I said I thought we were alone. The only way to be absolutely certain is to check.”

  “Oh, my God!” she cried.

  Steve whirled, heart thundering, gun at the ready. “What?”

  Hand to her mouth, she breathed, “Fred and Wilma.”

  “Who the hell are Fred and Wilma?”

  Without answering, she took off past him at a run. Biting back a curse, and praying that her biggest fan wasn’t lying in wait around the next corner, Steve chased after her. To his relief, he found her, safe and sound, in a room at the rear of the house. Judging by the looks of it, the place doubled as both office and den. She had her back to him and was cooing to the parakeets chirping in a cage that hung over one of two computer workstations.

  For a long minute he just stood there. Heart still racing, he struggled with the urge to wrap his hands around her lovely neck.

  “You risked your life for a couple of dumb birds?” he finally accused.

  “I wasn’t risking my life.” She swept an arm in front of her, encompassing the room. “No one’s here. And they’re not dumb. For your information, parakeets are highly intelligent.”

  “I don’t care if they can whistle ‘Dixie’ while reciting the theory of relativity. They still aren’t worth risking your life over.”

  “I wasn’t risking my life,” she repeated in that stubborn tone he knew so well.

  Steve raised the hand holding the gun. “Then why,” he said in a soft, deadly voice, “am I still carrying this?”

  The sight of the weapon seemed to jolt her back to reality, and she stared at him mutinously.

  No other woman could wriggle under his defenses like a rabbit under a fence. No other woman could push his temper to the point where it threatened to erupt uncontrollably. While they continued staring at each other, engaged in a silent battle of wills, Steve fought the urge to let loose the hot, angry words boiling inside him. Words that would let her know in no uncertain terms how irresponsibly she’d acted.

  His terror that he might not stop with words was what ultimately enabled him to lock them deep inside by sheer force of will. Before Kate entered his life, he’d never intended to marry anyone. He’d kept his relationships short and sweet While emotionally unsatisfying, he’d felt reasonably secure, and his dates had remained safe.

  When he met Kate, he told himself it was infatuation, and he’d waited for it to fade. By the time he realized he was in love with her, she was pregnant. So, they’d married. And he’d spent the next year in mortal fear that he would harm the one person he loved above all else.

  That he hadn’t was testament only to the fact that his willpower had managed to override his baser instincts. Except for one never-to-be-forgotten occasion once he’d reached the age of majority, he had never lost control of his temper. He wasn’t about to start now.

  When he spoke, his emotions were under firm control, and his voice was measured and even. “No matter what you say, Kate, until we finish searching this house, you were risking your life by running off like that. I guess now’s as good a time as any to establish some ground rules. While I’m in charge, I call the shots. Period. From now on, you don’t so much as go to the bathroom before I’ve secured it first.”

  Her back went ramrod straight. “I had to know whether he’d harmed my birds.”

  “A fact we could have just as easily discovered by taking the proper precautions. This isn’t a game, Kate. I can’t do my job without your cooperation. So let me know now. Am I wasting my time here? ’Cause if I am, you can hire someone else.”

  He half hoped she’d tell him to go. Then he could walk away without a backward glance. But could he really do it? Knowing that her life might be on the line, could he entrust her safety to anyone else? Damn it all, he knew he couldn’t. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

  She sighed. “I’m sorry, Steve. I behaved like an idiot. I wasn’t thinking. It won’t happen again.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He turned his attention to the parakeets. “What happened to Lucy and Desi?”

  “They went to the great birdcage in the sky.” She reached her hand into the cage and ran one long, lean finger across a bright yellow breast. “Desi went first. Lucy never was the same after. She didn’t last long. I think she gave up the will to live.”

  There had been a time when he’d been close to giving up that will, too. He would be wise not to forget that.

  “Come on,” he said roughly. “Let’s go search the rest of the house.”

  None of the doors and windows on the first floor had been tampered with. In the basement, though, they found an open window.

  “So now we know how he got in,” Kate murmured.

  “And out,” Steve said, pointing to the laundry basket that had been turned upside down and positioned beneath the window. “My guess is he’d planned to leave by your back door, until he discovered he’d need a key to unlock the dead bolt.”

  “It was pretty easy for him, wasn’t it?”

  “The only way it would have been easier is if you’d left your doors unlocked and sent him an engraved invitation.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “We make it a lot harder for him to get in, should he have a return visit in mind.”

  Steve made a mental note to call a glass specialist. Before tomorrow morning, he wanted the basement windows replaced by glass block. And that was just the top of a long list of alterations he had in mind. He hoped Kate hadn’t turned into a tightwad, because if she had, the bill for what needed to be done to make this place relatively secure would be enough to give her a coronary.

  The search of the second floor proved uneventful. Surprisingly Kate balked at the door leading to the third-floor. “Do we have to go up there?”

  He wondered why she was so leery. “Yes, we do.”

  “But I only use it for storage. It’s hot up there. There’s no ventilation.” A hint of desperation edged her voice when she added, “No one in their nght mind would want to hide there.”

  “We have to make sure, Kate.”

  With a resigned sigh, she followed him up stairs that creaked under their weight. The heat was oppressive. In seconds, his clothing clung uncomfortably
to his skin, and perspiration matted the hair at the back of his neck. Despite his discomfort, he took the time to carefully search every nook and cranny.

  “You are a pack rat,” he murmured, his gaze running over a stack of cartons that had been labeled as containing memorabilia from each of her school years. Another stack gave witness to the fact that she kept all her fan mail. Beyond them stood a bookcase filled with children’s books. He saw an old vanity, a big steamer trunk, and a double bed that was straight out of the fifties.

  “Told you so,” she replied, her voice sounding strained.

  From the look of things, she’d saved nearly every item she’d ever owned. He wouldn’t be surprised to find the proverbial kitchen sink.

  “You didn’t have all this stuff when we were married.”

  “That’s because we lived in an apartment. It was in storage at my father’s house.”

  When he finally threaded his way to the very back of the room, he stopped dead in his tracks. Now he knew why she hadn’t wanted to come up here. In the far corner, under a protective layer of clear plastic, sat a crib, a dresser that had been painted white and stenciled with pictures of frolicking lambs, and a bassinet.

  The pain washed over him, as fresh and exquisitely agonizing as if it were yesterday. At the time of their divorce, Kate had asked him what he wanted to do with the furniture, and he’d told her to get rid of it. After Molly died, he hadn’t been able to bear looking at it.

  Slowly he turned to face her. “You kept it all,” he murmured gruffly.

  Eyes looking suspiciously moist, she nodded. “I always intended to give it away to some charity, but so far I haven’t been able to.” Her gaze skittered from his and settled on the crib. “I had so many dreams wrapped up in that furniture.”

  They both had. And their daughter’s death had pretty much brought them crashing down around them. It had also brought their marriage crashing down.

  The trip to the first floor was made in silence.

  “How do you think he found my address?” Kate asked when they were once again in her office.

  “I imagine he hired a private detective. It’s a fairly easy thing to do.”

  She swayed on her feet, and he quickly moved to her side. Before he could reach out to her, she raised a hand and stopped him.

  “I...will...not...faint,” she vowed from between clenched teeth.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Her nod was determined, although the lack of color in her cheeks put her assertion into doubt She aimed eyes filled with anguish at him.

  “Do you have any idea how it feels to know that out there, somewhere, is someone who hates you enough to want to kill you? Can you even begin to know how I’m feeling at this moment?”

  If there was one thing he understood, it was how it felt to have his life threatened. When he’d worked undercover, he’d received more threats than he cared to remember. Shortly after their marriage, one of the lowlifes he was scheduled to testify against had even threatened Kate. He’d never told her about it. Instead, he and her brothers had somehow managed to have her guarded without her being aware of it It had been a tricky job, but they’d managed to pull it off.

  “Yes, Kate,” he said, his gaze steady on hers. “I can.”

  “Then you’ll understand that right now I feel like hiding under my bed and never coming out. I’m scared out of my mind, Steve.”

  “And you hate being scared,” he murmured. Because it meant she would have to rely on someone other than herself for her safety. Because, right now, she needed him. And that need made him want to reach out to her, to comfort her. It was a risk he couldn’t take.

  His job was to protect, he reminded himself. He was a professional, and he had to behave professionally. That meant he couldn’t be paying attention to her. He had to watch what was going on around her, to outthink this biggest fan of hers and anticipate the man’s next move. It was the only way he’d be able to keep her safe.

  A familiar burning sensation in his chest had him wishing for his antacid bottle. He crossed to a computer workstation and picked up the receiver of the phone he saw there.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Calling the police. It’s way past time.”

  They’d just entered the living room when Kate heard a car screech to a halt outside. Running to a window, she parted the curtains and saw a familiar blue-and-white cruiser join the cars already parked out front. Her heart sank when the door flew open and her brother Carlo climbed out.

  “Get away from the window!” Steve yelled.

  Kate nearly jumped out of her skin. The curtain fell from suddenly nerveless fingers as she whirled to confront him. His face wore a look of supreme exasperation, a look parents reserved for the most unbelievable and idiotic stunts performed by offspring who were supposedly old enough to know better. She wondered if he was having second and third thoughts about taking this job.

  “What did I do now?” she asked wearily.

  “Made yourself a perfect target, that’s what. Until this guy is caught, you aren’t going to be looking out any more windows.” Taking her by the elbow, he led her over to the fireplace. “Or standing in front of them, for that matter.”

  Kate tried to ignore the way the heat from his hand seared her skin. And the way the familiar scent of his aftershave wound its way sinuously up her nostrils and into her bloodstream.

  “Would it make you happy if I crawled around on the floor on my hands and knees?” she asked sweetly through gritted teeth.

  “If that’s what it takes,” he retorted. He dropped her arm abruptly, as if the touch of it offended him.

  “You’ll have to forgive me,” she said stiffly, “but I’m a little new at this damsel-in-distress business.”

  She knew she was behaving badly, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She felt as if she’d been trapped on a runaway roller coaster for hours and then, for good measure, run over by a steamroller. She knew Steve was just doing his job, but it irked her that she couldn’t even move around in her own home without first obtaining permission. The tension was getting to her, and she wasn’t reacting well.

  Threading unsteady fingers through her hair, Kate expelled a long breath. “I’m sorry, Steve. I’m not exactly making your job easy for you, am I?”

  His sigh sounded as weary as she felt. “I’m sorry, too. I don’t usually lose control like that.”

  She wouldn’t exactly describe his brief outburst as losing control. During their marriage, the only times she’d ever seen him lose the careful control he maintained over his emotions were when they were in bed together. For passion, he would let down his guard. For anger, never. How many times had she begged him to yell at her, scream at her, anything but keep so much hidden from her? And how many times had he refused and walked away?

  A sudden thought occurred to her. While he was with her, guarding her, he couldn’t walk away. His job wouldn’t permit it

  Carlo’s fist pounding against her front door interrupted further analysis. Instead of moving to answer it, Kate held her position in front of the fireplace. “I suppose you want to get that?”

  “See?” he said, flashing her a brief grin and chucking her under the chin. “You’re learning.”

  Feeling like a pupil who’d just been awarded high praise from an exacting teacher, Kate watched in bemusement as he crossed to the door.

  “Hello, Carlo,” she heard him drawl a minute later. “They sending the police chief out on B and E’s now?”

  Her bemusement vanished as she watched her brother’s eyes narrow and his shoulders square as if for battle. “What are you doing here, Gallagher? Where’s Kate? If you’ve so much as—”

  “I’m right here, Carlo,” she called.

  Steve stood aside, and her brother bulldozed his way into the room. Physically, Carlo Garibaldi was a good two inches under the six-foot mark, which made him three inches shorter than Steve. But what her brother lacked in height, he more t
han made up in muscle. When he wasn’t on the job, or romancing one of the endless stream of women he dated, he was pumping iron at a local gym.

  “What’s going on?” Carlo demanded. “I was standing next to the dispatcher when the call came in.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Why’s he here?”

  “Because I asked him to be here,” Kate said calmly. While her ex-husband had always remained an enigma, her brother she could read easier than large print. Long years of practice had taught her the best way to handle him.

  “What for?”

  “He’s agreed to act as my bodyguard.”

  “Why do you need a bodyguard?”

  “Maybe I should jump in here?” Steve suggested.

  Kate shrugged. “Be my guest.”

  Steve quickly and concisely filled Carlo in on the day’s events. When he finished, Carlo turned accusing eyes her way.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this when the letters started arriving?”

  “Because I didn’t see any need to. If I came running to you with every crazy letter I receive, you’d never get any work done.”

  “Yet you went running to him the minute you discovered you were in danger.” Though the look on his face was belligerent, Kate heard the hurt in his voice.

  “He’s the best at what he does, Carlo,” she said gently. “Your little police force, good as it is, just doesn’t have the manpower to give me round-the-clock protection. Nor do they have the training Steve does.”

  “I do. Bruno and Antonio do. One of us could have stayed here with you.”

  “Really? And just how would you have managed that, along with the demands of your job?”

  “We could have taken turns—”

  Kate held up a hand. “I’ve made my decision, Carlo. I intend to stand by it.”

  Carlo stuck his chin out. “I don’t want him alone here with you.”

  She’d had enough of overprotective, macho men for one day. “For goodness’ sake! He’s not going to ravish me.”