Guardian For Hire

by Christine Bell

  renegotiate his position or determine exactly how bad the situation was and whether or not it was time to draw his own weapon, a low female voice rang through the room.

  “If you don’t let him up right now, I’ll shoot you dead.”

  What the fuck? His pulse jacked higher as he realized with growing terror who that voice belonged to. Jesus, Doc, why? He jerked against his captor, trying to get a glimpse of her, but when he pressed the chilly steel of his pistol against his face, he stilled. The last thing he needed was for this guy to blow his brains out and the second-to-last thing he needed was for Sarabeth to witness it. She’d never get out of here alive alone, gun or not, if she panicked, and he couldn’t lose her. Not yet.

  “Well if it isn’t the lady of the hour.” Vito’s lips pulled back into a shark’s smile. “I gotta say, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Well, here I am,” Sarabeth stepped into the his view, decked out in her security gear, and Gavin barely resisted the urge to tackle her to the ground and cover her body with his own as their friendly neighborhood gangsters all slowly swiveled their weapons toward her.

  “And she’s not alone.” Maddy moved into view, dressed similarly, gun pointed directly at Vito’s head.

  Jesus Christ, he was going to ream her out when they got out of this. She could’ve gotten Sarabeth killed with this scheme, not to mention herself.

  “Girls, girls. I think women with guns are sexy as hell, but I’m a little hurt that you’re pointing them my way,” Vito said with a tsk. “No reason my boys shouldn’t take you out right now and have two less—“

  “You don’t want to do that, Vito,” Sarabeth said softly, her eyes narrowed menacingly. Gavin felt a rush of pride through his fear for her. She really was becoming quite the badass.

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because those tapes are now copied onto multiple discs and my redheaded friend here has them hidden in several locations, along with instructions for various individuals to release them should any of us go missing or…worse.”

  She said her little speech with such aplomb, Gavin almost expected her to add “pyew pyew” on the end to keep in character. It was actually a pretty good strategy, setting the tapes up to release in the event of their deaths, and one he wished he’d thought of himself. Now it was Vito’s move. Gavin waited, every muscle at the ready to move if he needed to. Sometimes pushing a man too far backfired and, if emotions got high enough, who knew what he could do? As long as he had a breath in him, though, he would make sure Sarabeth and Maddy got out of here safe.

  Vito stood back and stared at the two women, his face twisting into an ugly snarl.

  “If you people keep fucking with me, you’re going to wind up sleeping with the fishes, that much I can tell you.”

  He made a move toward Sarabeth, but before he got close, the sound of the doors sliding open echoed through the room, and a bullhorn sounded.

  “Vito DeSalvo. We have you surrounded. Lay down your weapons and no one will get hurt.”

  Vito’s face crumpled, and suddenly he looked every one of his years, plus some. “Fuck that. If I’m going out, I’m going out swinging.”

  He motioned to his boys to get ready for a firefight, and the guy holding him let go, stepping back as Vito reached for the gun in his holster and raised it at Gavin. “But I’m taking this motherfucker down before I do anything else.”

  Footsteps sounded, and he wondered how long those cops had before the gangsters opened fire. As Vito got within point-blank range, Gavin’s hand twitched toward his weapon. Before he closed his hand over the pistol, two shots sounded back-to-back—pop pop—and Vito let out an enraged scream of pain and dropped to the ground.

  Gavin leaped to his feet, tugging his gun from the holster, panic making his vision blur. Two shots, but Vito was only bleeding from one hole. His gun lay on the ground a few feet from him as he writhed in pain, cupping the wound in his wrist that was bleeding profusely. Gavin covered the three closest goons, silently praying that the other bullet hadn’t found one of his girls. He couldn’t take his attention off his targets without risking a load of lead to the face, so he barked their names.

  “Doc, Maddy. Talk to me.” His ears were still ringing from the shots and the adrenaline, and he strained to hear a response.

  “We’re both okay,” Maddy called. “We’ve got weapons trained on Vito and there’s only one bodyguard unaccounted for.”

  Relief coursed through him, although he wished Sarabeth had spoken. God help Maddy if she was lying to him and the doc had been hit. But they weren’t out of the woods yet.

  He inched over and bent low to pick up Vito’s weapon and at that moment, their missing gunny who’d been perched on the catwalk stood suddenly. Gavin leveled his pistol at him but once the guy realized their fearless leader was down by fire, he immediately set his weapon down. It didn’t take long for the others to follow his lead. They’d get a couple years if that if they were taken into custody now, but if they started shooting, they were looking at long, hard time. Hell, if they gave up info on Vito, they might not do time at all.

  The SWAT team streamed in, and Gavin set his pistol on the floor and motioned for the ladies to do the same. Be a shame to get this far only to be hit by friendly fire.

  Once they’d gotten Vito into an ambulance and determined all the details about the incident—or the ones Gavin felt compelled to give—the cops stepped away to process all the mobsters they’d caught.

  “You didn’t think I was going to let you go do that for me alone, did you?” she asked.

  “I thought you were both going to do what I told you.”

  Maddy shook her head with a snort. “God, you’re dumb sometimes. You know that there are people in this world who care very much whether you live or die.”

  He let the words settle over him for a second and cleared his throat. He’d known Maddy had his back, but to that extent? She was like the family he never had. And Sarabeth?

  He watched as she shifted restlessly from foot to foot. “You did so great in there. I should want to throttle you both for taking a chance like that, but I have to admit that I’m impressed with what you two pulled off. How did you find me?”

  Maddy tapped the phone at her waist. “GPS.”

  He stared at her, scowling.

  “What?” she asked, holding up her hands as if she was pleading the Fifth. “You have a tracker on mine. Only fair that someone knows where you are at all times too.”

  He let it slide, knowing that she was looking out for him. “What made you think of sending the tapes to other people? I’m assuming Owen has a copy now?”

  He aimed the question at Maddy as well, but she deferred to Sarabeth. “Don’t look at me, I was all for running in guns blazing.”

  Sarabeth’s cheeks burned, and she shrugged as he leveled her with a searching gaze. “Well?”

  “I—” She scratched her nose and shrugged. “I saw that on an episode of CSI.”

  A smile tugged at his mouth. Maybe that show was going to have to be part of their training curriculum now.

  “And the shots? I heard two.”

  “Maddy is the one who hit him. Mine went wide. Thank God she was here.”

  “Well, at least it’s all over now.”

  The momentary relief dimmed into sorrow as the word turned over in his head. Over. There was nothing to bind them together, not any more. So as much as this was a victory, it was also a crossroads. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to ruin this moment for her. She was finally free. He’d take her to her grandparents’ house, and once everyone had welcomed her back with open arms, he’d give her some space. If she wanted him, she’d let him know. If she didn’t, at least she’d be on safe turf.

  Yep, that would be the plan from here on out—and for now, he’d have to ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest every time he thought about leaving her.

  By the time the police were done with their questions and they were cleared to leave,
it was well past midnight. Maddy was going to have to lawyer up for having fired the first shot, but her connections with the PD seemed to suggest that any charges would be dropped given the circumstances. The cops were more concerned about the mutilated contents of the bag, and no one was talking. Since it wasn’t drugs and odds were their analysts wouldn’t get anything off the discs themselves, everyone had clammed up tight and there wasn’t much they could do. They took Vito and his boys downtown on unregistered weapons charges and not much else. They’d be out soon, but Gavin seemed to think that the fact that the tapes were still in play would keep Vito from misbehaving.

  Gavin led Sarabeth to the car slowly. Her whole body ached with exhaustion and her mind was reeling. Things could have gone so terribly wrong in there, it was a wonder they’d all gotten out in one piece. And Gavin… God, seeing him on his knees like that with a gun to his head had nearly made her lose her mind.

  She swallowed hard to ease the ache in her throat as he opened the car door without speaking. She didn’t mind the quiet. All the words on her lips were better left unsaid.

  Seeing someone try to hurt you like that made me crazy inside.

  Thinking you might die was the scariest moment of my life.

  Do I really have to go?

  By the time they got to Gavin’s house, she’d talked herself in so many circles, she was light-headed and barely managed to drag herself out of the car. The strain of the day had taken its toll and a mother of a headache was building around her eyes.

  “You okay, Doc?” Gavin took her arm gently and led her into the house.

  She nodded, barely managing to stop herself from leaning closer and tucking her head against his shoulder. It was only the memory of his words that stopped her.

  Well, at least it’s all over now.

  All of it. The running. The hiding. The fear. And them. They, if there ever really was a “they,” were a product of their circumstances. If there was no gangster after her, there was no need for her to be in Gavin’s house at all. He’d get his life back and so would she. What little there was left of it, in any case. Even the things she’d thought were important to her weren’t. The job was just a job, and all that angst over trying to rebuild her practice had been wasted. She didn’t even know if she wanted to go back to that. Not after having a taste of what it was like in Gavin’s world.

  “Are you hungry? Maybe you should try to eat something.”

  His low voice interrupted her muzzy thoughts and she shook her head. “I need to sleep.”

  He nodded and left her at the bottom of the staircase. “Can you make it up alone? I’m going to get you some water and an aspirin.”

  “Yes, I’m okay.” She made her way gingerly up the steps, each one looming larger than the last. What room was she even supposed to sleep in? It had been the status quo since they’d slept together for her to be in Gavin’s room, but now? Nothing was that simple anymore. Going to his bed when they both knew the forces holding them together were gone would be a declaration. A conscious stand, by which she was telling him flat-out that she wasn’t done with him yet.

  At least it’s all over now.

  She swiped at the tears pooling in her eyes and bypassed his door, heading for her own room. If he wanted to keep her, he was going to have to say it. She’d about used up the last of her bravery and disregard for self-preservation when she barreled into that warehouse and shot at a gangster.

  By the time he came in, she was dressed in her nightshirt and tucked under the covers.

  “Hey, how you feeling?” He crossed the room to her bedside and set down a tray with a glass of water and what looked like a cheese sandwich sitting on it. “Sorry, no meat. I meant to hit the grocery store and then…”

  “And then today got a kind of busy,” she said with a forced laugh, her eyes tearing again at his thoughtfulness. “Thanks.” She took the aspirin he held out to her and washed it down with the ice water before setting it back on the tray.

  They stared at each other stupidly for a long moment and she willed him to say something. Anything that might let her know that he didn’t want to go. That he needed to lie next to her and hold her as much as she needed it.

  “Listen, Doc—”

  The regret in his voice hurt more than any words he could say, and she stopped him with a hand on his forearm.

  “I want to let you know how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me,” she said softly, hoping she could get through her little speech before she burst into tears. “I didn’t want to go with you, and you wouldn’t take no for an answer. Believe me, I know that’s the only reason I’m alive today. I can’t thank you enough.”

  He gave a grim nod. “Right. That was the job and I’m glad it worked out. And to be fair, you repaid the favor back at the warehouse, so I’d say we’re square.”

  Square. So nobody owed anybody anything and they could both just walk away.

  “I guess that’s it, then. I’ll let you get some sleep.” He held her gaze for a beat before turning to go. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He made his way to the foyer and her heart dropped to her stomach. He slipped out and closed the door behind him, the resulting snick reverberating through her aching head like a cannon shot. This really was the end.

  Now how was she going to go back to life before Gavin when it really hadn’t been much of a life at all?

  Chapter Fourteen

  During the long ride to her grandparents’ house the next day, he’d glanced at Sarabeth roughly every three seconds. Each time he looked, she was fidgeting. First she was brushing her fingers through her hair, then adjusting and readjusting her seat belt, examining her pores in the passenger-side mirror. And the whole time, she’d barely said more than two words.

  They’d stopped for a quick bite, but even that was a quiet affair and they’d gotten right back on the road. Occasionally she’d mumble directions, but the closer they got, every topic of conversation he’d attempted had died quickly after its inception, met with either a muffled one-word response or none at all. He could understand it. After their conversation in the hotel, she’d never mentioned calling them again, and she’d avoided any verbal mention of them afterward. Jumping back into the life she’d left behind had to be difficult.

  “You all right, there, Doc? If you’re not careful, someone’s going to accuse you of having restless leg syndrome or something.” Her knee was bobbing so quickly that he was surprised it didn’t make the car wobble up and down along with it. She half smiled.

  “What? Oh, yeah. Fine. This, um, this is the street.” She pointed to a sign labeled Lucking Road. Giant bushes of tea roses surrounded the spiraled wrought iron posts.

  “I never would have guessed,” he said with a snort. She nodded, either not hearing or not processing what he’d said.

  “It’s the only house on the street. End of the drive,” she muttered.

  He followed the winding path until they were in front of a huge five-story home, white marble pillars supporting the plantation-style architecture. It was the sort of building a person would associate with old money—from the neat stone walkway to the bright-red flowers in every window box. He’d never seen a place like it before. It was more like a museum than a place someone might call home. The very thought of kicking back and having a cold beer in a place like this would be like going to bed on the set of American Horror Story. Ludicrous.

  Like your place is any better.

  So maybe his place was more Highland keep than Tara. It still wasn’t a space that invited warmth and laughter and comfort.

  But it would be if Sarabeth was in it, he realized with a start. He’d let her put throw pillows around and picture frames and magnets on the fridge if she wanted to. His chest went tight, and he opted to make light.

  “And you thought my house was a castle.” He swung his legs out of the car and walked around to open her door, but she was already tumbling out, her knees almost knocking together as she stood before the man
sion.

  “I guess it is sort of silly.” She didn’t look at him but started up the stone stairs.

  He followed suit, shaking out his leather jacket and making sure his collar was folded. He was stepping onto the wide wraparound porch when she pressed her finger to the doorbell and the whole house hummed with gentle chimes.

  “Not really top-end security round these parts, huh?” There wasn’t even a gate around the property, just wide, sprawling fields.

  “They have top-of-the-line alarms inside and out, plus two rottweilers. They’re for dog shows, mostly, but when they’re not…” She trailed off.

  A Spanish woman literally dressed in a French maid’s uniform answered the door, a smile stretched across her face. “Hello, Miss Sarabeth. It’s good to see you. May I take your coats?” She held out an arm, gesturing toward his leather jacket.

  Sarabeth returned her smile warmly and handed over her jacket.

  “No, uh, I’m fine. Thanks.” He ran his hands down the front of his chest and shook his head, surveying the wide hall behind her. It was like something out of a movie. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, the bright light behind it making the stones sparkle. The floor and stairs were entirely cast in pristine white marble, a gold banister leading to the huge front door where he and Sarabeth stood. Everybody in the enormous space was sure to look like ants in their immaculate surroundings. And to the kind of people who lived in a place like this, Gavin was bound to look like a cockroach.

  “Martina!” A shrill female voice rang through the foyer, the quick clicking of approaching heels accompanying the sound. “Rochester needs-o his bath-o—”

  A woman emerged from the far end of the room, her eyes widening when she caught sight of Sarabeth. Her mouth hung open, and it was the only real sign of surprise she had left. The rest of her features were pulled too tightly to express emotion any longer. She nearly dropped the martini glass perched between her thumb and forefinger. Almost.

  She advanced on them, though her perfectly crafted fake-blond updo never budged as she went. “What happened to your hair?” She fingered Sarabeth’s strands with her free hand, her lips curling into a mask of righteous horror.

  “Oh, I—”

  “Ugh.” The woman shook her head, trying her hardest to wrinkle her nose as she traipsed back to the room where she’d come from. “I don’t want to know the details. I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ve been through enough as it is.” She tipped the martini glass toward her lips, and he watched her retreating form as she disappeared through an archway beneath the staircase.

  No hug. No “how are you.” Anger boiled beneath the surface, and it was all he could do not to shout for the woman to get her ass back there and show her granddaughter some kindness.

  “Please, do come in.” The maid swept her arm out in a well-practiced motion, her eyes gentle.

  “Thank you.” Sarabeth sighed. She turned to Gavin with an apologetic smile. “That was my grandmother. She’ll be expecting us in the parlor. It’s afternoon tea.”

  “In five minutes,” Martina’s voice interjected before she scurried over through the archway on the opposite side of the stairs.

  “That means that my grandfather will be down in ten minutes, the tea won’t be served until he gets here, and then my grandmother will complain that the ‘tea-o is mucho cold-o’ until the maid cries. That’s a tried and true tradition.” Sarabeth cleared her throat but didn’t move from the entryway.

  “Maybe I should go, then?” he asked carefully, trying to read her pained face. “You must want to spend some time with them, and I’m sure they want to talk to you about everything.” He wasn’t sure of that at all, but didn’t know what else to say.

  “No, no, I’m sure they’ll want to thank you for keeping me safe. So, please. Stay.” Her seafoam eyes were so pleading that he couldn’t find it in his heart to leave, no matter if the rest of him was telling him how out of place he was in this world. Like a stuffed animal in a china cabinet. He didn’t belong.

  When they got to the parlor, Lucinda Lucking was already nestled on her high-backed sofa, a huge beast of a dog lying beneath her feet.

  The dog growled as soon as he caught sight of Gavin, but the old woman silenced him with a quick tap of her foot to his flank. “Rochester, no,” she whispered, and the dog returned to his nap. “So, should I be expecting reporters on my lawn again? I was worried my flowers were doing too well.” There was no invitation to sit, but she motioned her drink toward the couch opposite, and he followed Sarabeth’s lead as she smoothed her skirt and rested on the wide light-blue cushions. Like everything else in the place, the seat was as fancy as it was uncomfortable.

  The woman stared at him expectantly, as if waiting for something. He shifted in his seat. “I’ve spoken with the police, and I don’t think there will be much of a story in this for the reporters. You all should be able to go back to your daily lives with a minimum of distress. I’d give it a couple weeks and then Sarabeth can return to her own house.” It was the first time he’d spoken, and apparently, she wasn’t overly impressed. The woman surveyed him from his combat boots to his leather jacket, and the slight wrinkle in her Botoxed nose let him know that he had been found lacking.

  “Well, what a relief.” She sipped on her martini, returning her full attention to Sarabeth.

  Martina entered the room, holding a sterling tea set aloft on a matching silver tray, but Lucinda answered with a long-suffering sigh. “Where-o is Mr. Stanley?”

  The corner of her mouth quirked in annoyance, but the maid set the tray on the coffee table between the two couches, apparently too used to the routine to bother with formalities any more.

  “In his office, ma’am,” Martina answered.

  The rest of the scene played out exactly as Sarabeth had said it would, and she offered him a wan smile as Martina retreated, leaving the tea behind.

  “Good help and all that,” Lucinda sniffed. She eyed Gavin again before continuing. “So, you’re the man who was solicited by the Irish fellow who was here?” She whispered the word “Irish” like it was the f-bomb.