“And?”
He shook his head. “Nothing of note other than a serious problem with buying expensive shoes.”
Chasyn smiled. “Kasey never met a designer pump she didn’t like.”
“Tough on the budget.”
“Kasey didn’t stick to a budget. It made her father crazy.”
“He subsidized her expenses?”
She nodded. “Mr. Becker adored Kasey. He couldn’t stand to see her go without something she wanted. But she wasn’t spoiled or anything. Kasey just liked nice things and her parents had the money. Mr. Becker owns a chain of car washes.”
“Thirty-nine of them in four states,” Declan supplied.
She met and held his gaze. “Is there anything you don’t already know?”
“Not much,” he admitted easily.
“That remains to be seen,” she grumbled as she lowered her eyes back to her paper and began making bullet points in the columns. “So we know where and how Mary was killed. We know she was six weeks pregnant at the time she was killed and we know Dr. Lansing was the baby’s father.”
“Think Lansing is the father; can’t prove it,” he corrected.
“What other motive would he have for killing her?” Chasyn asked. Under the ‘Dr. Lansing’ column, she wrote: Uber-rich wife. “Mary having Lansing’s baby would cost him dearly. His wife is Martha Hamilton Lansing, sole heir to the Hamilton Foods empire, and she might have taken issue with her husband fathering a child as a result of an adulterous affair.” There was censure in her tone that inspired a small smile from Declan.
“But Lansing is a doctor,” he said. “I’ve never met a poor doctor in West Palm.”
She shook her head emphatically. “He doesn’t practice. He writes articles about criminal insanity and earns hefty fees for expert testimony but that’s a drop in the bucket compared to the billions his wife controls.”
“Judging by their joint checking account, his wife keeps him on a pretty short leash. If he doesn’t practice, why does he keep an office in West Palm Beach?” Declan asked after consulting a report in his hands. He seemed perplexed by what he read.
“For show?” Chasyn speculated. “I guess there is no real reason for it. Just for show, and Lansing is all about show.”
“Put that in the Lansing column.”
She smiled. “Are you admitting my system is effective?” She felt a surge of pride.
He gave her a sidelong look and a sexy half-smile. “I’m considering the fact that your anal-retentive bent might be helpful.”
The ‘Kasey’ column was pretty light. She wrote down the date and time and the fact that she was killed by a nine-millimeter projectile. “Do I include the white SUV with the possibly Hispanic passenger as the gunman?” she asked. A chill danced along her spine at the memory. “Even though I didn’t see it?”
“Sure, just put a question mark next to it.” Declan got up and refilled his coffee. “Want some?” he asked.
“No, but I’d love some water.”
He retrieved a bottle from the refrigerator and placed it on the table next to her pad. “Add Captain William Jolsten under Mary’s column,” he suggested. “Our first stop should be MacDill to get some background on Mary.”
“Our?”
“Can I stop you from getting involved?” he asked with one dark brow arched.
“No,” she answered with conviction. “My best friend is dead. I want Lansing to pay.”
“Fine. But we’re doing it my way.”
“Which is?”
He paused to take a sip from his mug. “You do whatever I tell you to do, whenever I tell you to do it.”
“But—”
He raised a finger to his lips. “No buts. No negotiation. You’re in my world now. My world, my rules.”
She sat up straighter. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a tad dictatorial?”
“Maybe. But at least I haven’t turned my life into a rigid timeline.”
“You’re probably just jealous because I’ve got a plan and you’re cruising through life,” she scoffed.
“What do you know about my life?” He challenged her with obvious amusement.
“I’m guessing you’re in your mid-thirties. You live in a tech-overload house that’s decorated like a big man-cave and your chosen career leaves you open to the potential for sporadic employment.”
“Ouch.”
“Well, you asked.”
“Enough about me,” he said dismissively. “Time for a little prep work. Come with me.”
He led her into his office. It was a sparse room with a desk and a credenza, two filing cabinets and a couple of mismatched leather chairs. There was a phone, a fax machine, and a laser printer.
Declan crouched by the credenza, slid open one door and revealed a small safe. After punching in a code, a short beep sounded and he pulled open the door. Inside she saw an array of firearms and clips. He selected a black one and removed the clip, then slid the barrel to clear the chamber before standing.
“Ever fire a gun?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never even held one.”
“You only point it where you’re planning to shoot,” he said as he came around to where she stood. He handed her the gun by the grip, then moved behind her.
“It’s not as heavy as I thought it would be,” she said with mild surprise.
“It isn’t loaded. Now, stand with your feet shoulders’ width apart.”
She followed his instruction and was focused on the task at hand until he pressed up behind her and reached his arms around so that his hands covered hers. Chasyn was afraid to breathe when she felt his solid body against hers. She could feel coiled muscle and heat and her body instantly reacted by sending a surge of heightened awareness through her system. Her nerve endings were firing strobelike messages to her brain. Chasyn was aware of everything: the slight callouses on his fingertips where they brushed the back of her hands, the corded muscles of his forearms, the very male scent of him. It was almost overwhelming to her senses.
“Farther apart,” he said, his voice slightly deeper and close enough to her ear that she could feel the heat of his breath.
Chasyn moved lead legs into position. “What next?” she asked.
“Palms against the grip.”
Chasyn was so distracted by Declan that she barely noticed the pinch from the small glass cut on her hand as she gripped the gun as instructed.
Slowly, he moved his hands up her arms, searing a trail of tingling sensations along the way. He cupped her elbows and raised her arms higher. In the process, his forearms brushed the sides of her breasts, making her breath catch in her throat. She stood perfectly still, praying he didn’t notice her reaction.
“Look down the barrel and you’ll see the sight.”
She tried to focus, but it was a challenge. She was practically being strangled by the lump of desire in her throat. God, she was reacting like some awkward teenager fumbling through her first time. She started a mental list. Of course she was overreacting. Nearly two years of celibacy would do that to a girl. Declan was an attractive man, so of course she wouldn’t be immune to him. All she needed to do was get a freaking grip on herself.
“I see it.”
“Good. Tomorrow morning I’ll take you out and let you shoot a few rounds.”
“You mean actually fire the gun?”
He stepped back and she felt abandoned.
“Unless you plan on throwing it at the bad guys.”
* * *
Declan slept fitfully, mainly because he was mentally bashing himself over his behavior the previous evening. He stepped into his jeans, yanked them up, and heard the guest shower running. He knew where Chasyn was and his mind conjured vivid images of her naked body under the steamy spray.
Thinking about her naked was unprofessional and unproductive. His job was to keep her safe, not bed her. “So, what was that gun thing about?” he muttered to himself. The answer came to him instantly. He simply wanted
to be close to her. To feel her against him. “You, my friend, are a glutton for punishment.”
Declan pulled on a black T-shirt and jeans and went into the kitchen. After making a pot of coffee, he poured a mug and sat down at the table and began to look over the notes Chasyn had made the previous night. Though he’d teased her about it, he had to admit that her organizational skills were impressive and had the potential to be of use. Especially when the case involved three separate and distinct crime scenes as well as three different weapons.
He re-read the coroner’s report. Mary’s wounds had been consistent with the use of a K-Bar-type knife. According to the autopsy report on Kasey, the weapon had been a nine-millimeter handgun. He and Chasyn had been shot at with a sniper rifle. He rubbed his freshly shaved chin. “Why the change-up?” he wondered aloud. At the top of Chasyn’s page he wrote: Three Killers???
Chasyn emerged wearing white jeans and a blush-colored top that left her shoulders bare. Her hair was up in a towel and she had bandages in her hand. “Mind helping me?” she asked.
Declan stood and took the supplies while she unwound the towel. She held her damp hair up, revealing the small row of stitches where the bullet had entered the back of her skull.
“It looks good,” he told her.
“I’m sure it’s stunning,” she quipped.
“You were one lucky person,” he said on an expelled breath. “Or you have a very hard head.”
“Neither,” she said. “It was a fluke.”
“A lucky fluke.” Or a warning?
“Definitely,” she said with more confidence than she felt. A few millimeters either way and she wouldn’t be alive. The thought made her shiver. Or was it the feel of Declan’s hand brushing her neck? God, she was confused. Unrelated thoughts seemed to buzz around her head. Maybe this was a result of being shot. Made sense. The alternative was admitting she was attracted to a man with whom she had absolutely nothing in common. And who didn’t fit into her life plan. Declan was a lot of things, first and foremost—dangerous.
* * *
Chasyn struggled to stay still while he applied the new bandage. As if his hands weren’t distracting enough, she could feel his warm breath wash over her exposed neck and shoulders. She longed to tilt her head to the side to invite a kiss. Perhaps a gentle nibble or nuzzle. Any kind of contact would work. She just wanted to feel his mouth on her body.
“Am I hurting you?”
In ways that have nothing to do with my injuries. “No.”
When he finished, she couldn’t step away fast enough. She had hoped her long shower would wash away the remnants of her lingering lust. Apparently not. That feeling chased her back to the bedroom. Chasyn took her time drying her hair and applying her makeup. She knew she was dawdling but she really needed the time to regroup. After nearly an hour and a long mental chat with herself, she reemerged and found Declan on the phone.
He turned and looked at her with concern etched in his eyes.
“What?” she mouthed.
He cupped the receiver and said, “Someone broke into your apartment last night.”
CHAPTER SIX
Lansing was in my house?” Chasyn asked incredulously.
Declan shook his head as he replaced the phone on its cradle. “No, I have him under surveillance. He never left his home last night.”
“Then he’s paying someone.”
“Most likely,” he agreed.
Chasyn took a few steps closer. “How bad is it? Can I go check out the damage?”
“Too dangerous,” Declan explained. “It could be a trap.”
“Trap?” she repeated.
He took a brief sip from his mug, then said, “It could be a ploy to get you back to the apartment. Right into the crosshairs of the sniper.”
Chasyn rubbed her bare upper arms. “You’re scaring me.”
He did a half-turn and leaned against the countertop. “Don’t worry; you’re insulated and we’re going to take every precaution.”
“‘We’re’?”
“My team and me,” he clarified, setting down his empty mug on the counter. “Are you ready to go?”
“Go where?”
“We have to swing by my office and then up to MacDill to see Mary’s ex.”
“Let me just throw a few things in a bag.” She pivoted back toward the bedroom. Her hands shook as she pulled her tote from the closet and filled it with her wallet and keys, though she doubted either of them were necessary. She added a small cosmetics bag and rejoined Declan, who was standing by the door.
“My car is still in the parking lot of the courthouse,” she said suddenly.
“I’ll send one of the guys for it.”
“I have to stop by an ATM to get cash out for the parking fee,” she said. “Or I may have to finance it. Depending on how many days they charge me for.” Why, she wondered, was she obsessing over her car when she had a sniper after her?
“No ATM withdrawals,” Declan told her. “You need to calm down.”
“Easy for you to say. No one is trying to kill you.” She rubbed her arms and hated that her voice cracked just a little. She struggled to keep the warm tears behind her eyes from spilling out over her cheeks. Abject fear was not good company.
“And my job is to make sure no one kills you.”
She tilted her head back and met his gaze. “Aren’t you afraid of being shot in the crossfire?” The idea of him being hurt or worse because of her caused a tightness in her belly. She already felt guilty about Kasey’s death; she didn’t want to entertain the idea of someone else getting hurt because Lansing wanted her dead.
“I’m a big boy,” he replied with a grin. “And this isn’t my first rodeo.”
Chasyn placed one hand on her hip. “Mine either. I was the one who convinced Kasey she had to testify. If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have been at the courthouse the other day. She wouldn’t be dead.”
“That’s crazy,” Declan argued. “How could you possibly have known the lengths Lansing would go to cover his ass? No one but Lansing is responsible for Kasey’s death.”
“But as you so eloquently pointed out last night, we can’t prove that.”
“Yet.”
Chasyn dropped her hand. “So, what’s the plan?”
Declan took out his cell phone and made a quick call to arrange for her car to be retrieved from the downtown garage. Tamping down her fears, Chasyn gathered the legal pad with her notes and shoved it into her tote. She didn’t like feeling so vulnerable. Her well-ordered life was spinning out of her control and she wasn’t exactly equipped for that. She couldn’t remember a time when her life wasn’t planned to a ‘T.’ She always knew the next step, the next goal. She ticked them off like pickets on a passing fence. It was completely disconcerting to have that stability and structure ripped out from beneath her feet.
“Let’s go.”
She followed him out to the car and half-expected to be shot on sight. When she climbed up into the passenger seat, her heart was pounding in her ears. “How long does this abject terror last?” she asked as he started the engine.
He put the car in gear, then his hand fell to her thigh and he gave a gentle squeeze. “Believe it or not, you’ll probably get used to it.”
She felt the warmth of his touch and it spread through her, chasing away the fear and replacing it with something different. And not in a good way. No, her mind wandered to what it would feel like to have his hands all over her. It was a powerful and vivid image and totally inappropriate. Luckily, his hand dropped away, quelling her impure thoughts.
Chasyn fiddled with the handle of her tote as they waited for the iron gate to open so they could leave his well-protected home. In no time, they were heading toward a second location in the western part of Palm Beach County.
Communities gave way to small farms, then the population became more sporadic as they continued to drive. “Where are we going?”
“A little place I have out in the sticks,” he sa
id.
“With plenty of places a sniper could hide?”
“If you think my house is secure, you’ll be awed by the warehouse.”
“Warehouse?”
He turned left down an unmarked road. After about half a mile, they came upon a high fence topped with razor wire. As far as the eye could see, chain-link fencing drew a straight line through the fields. Warning signs and a clearly marked representation cautioned that the fence was electrified. Declan reached into the glove box and took out a remote, depressing the button. A gate swung open with a rattle and a hum.
They drove about another quarter mile before Chasyn caught sight of a massive warehouse with a giant satellite dish mounted on the roof. The building was about half the size of an airplane hangar, with triple garage doors to the left, embedded in concrete walls. It did look like a warehouse.
“Hang on a second,” Declan said as he placed the SUV in park and went over to a keypad mounted by one of the garage walls.
He punched in a series of numbers, then one of the triple doors slowly opened. Back into the car, he drove it inside the building, then parked next to a half-dozen other cars.
Chasyn emerged from the vehicle and caught a whiff of engine exhaust before the garage door closed. She cautiously glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings as she followed Declan across the concrete floor. The din of muffled voices came from the far end of the space, and she saw a frosted glass wall up ahead. Harsh fluorescent bulbs lined the ceiling leading to the glassed-in area.
Declan opened the door and then stepped aside for her to enter first. What she found looked very much like an ordinary office. The walls were lined with file cabinets and there were desks set up at equal intervals. At the far end of the room she noted a portion of the wall was covered by three large computer monitors. Then she became aware of the three men and one woman with their eyes trained on her.
“Everyone, this is Chasyn.”
The first person to step forward with his hand extended was like Declan, tall and well-muscled. “Gavin,” he greeted her, extending his hand. His smile reached his dark brown eyes.
“Hello.”
Trapped Page 5
