Calculated Risk

by Janie Crouch

  Now he’d killed Tom. The man Vaughn had hired to protect her. It wasn’t her own failure. Rationally, she knew that, but kind, funny Tom, who’d done everything in his power to protect her, was dead.

  “Come inside, Lucy.” Vaughn slid his free arm around her shoulders and the first tear fell over onto her cheek. She couldn’t let more fall, and yet her brother’s steadiness, and the name only he and Mom called her, was one of the few things that could undo her.

  Well, that and murder, she supposed. “Tom...”

  “We’ll handle the arrangements,” Vaughn said, squeezing her shoulders as baby Nora gurgled happily in her daddy’s arms. “He was a good man.”

  “He shouldn’t have died protecting me.”

  “But he did. He signed up for that job. You’ll have time to mourn that. We all will, but right now we need to focus on getting you somewhere safe.”

  She wanted to say something snotty. Vaughn could be so cold, and though she knew it was his law-enforcement training, it grated. Except he held his baby like the precious gift she was, and Daisy had watched years ago as his voice had broken when he’d made his vows to his wife.

  Vaughn wasn’t cold or heartless. He just had control down to an art form. And his concern was her. Daisy felt like such a burden to him, and yet there was no way to convince him this wasn’t his problem.

  “Nat’s got coffee on and Jaime is on his way over,” Vaughn said, locking the door behind her then leading her up the stairs of his split-level ranch.

  “What’s Jaime got to do with this?” Daisy asked warily. “You can’t get the FBI involved. I—”

  “I’m not getting the FBI involved. I’m using my FBI connections to find a safe place for you while we let the professionals investigate.”

  “And by professionals you mean you.”

  “I mean anyone and everyone I can get on this case. With our connection, I’m not legally allowed to be part of the official investigation.”

  Which meant he’d launch his own unofficial one. No matter how by-the-book Vaughn was, he’d always break rules for his loved ones.

  Nat came out of the kitchen as they crested the stairs. She pulled Daisy into a hard hug. “How are you?” she asked, brown eyes full of compassion.

  Daisy had no questions about how Vaughn had fallen for Natalie, but she did have some questions about the reverse.

  “Unscathed.”

  Natalie pursed her lips. “Physically. Which wasn’t all I meant.” She eyed her husband. “Coopers,” she muttered with some disgust, though Daisy knew—for as little time as she managed to spend with her family here due to her crazy touring schedule—Nat spoke with love.

  The doorbell rang, Nora fussed and Nat and Vaughn exchanged the baby and words with the choreographed practice of marriage. It caused a multitude of pangs in Daisy.

  Her divorce had started the press’s character assassination—thanks to Jordan’s team, who were desperate to keep his star on the rise.

  Then the stalking had started, and everything had become a numb kind of blank.

  But she could still remember marrying Jordan with the hope she’d have something like Nat and Vaughn had. That had been a joke.

  “Sit down. You want to hold Nora for me? I’ve got to go check on Miranda.” Nat was maneuvering her onto the couch, placing tiny Nora into her arms and hurrying off to check on their other daughter as Vaughn and his brother-in-law ascended the stairs.

  “Ah, the cavalry,” Daisy said with a wry twist of her lips.

  “Good to see you again, Daisy,” Jaime Alessandro greeted. An FBI agent, married to Natalie’s sister, Daisy had met him on a few occasions. He was more personable than Vaughn, but the whole FBI thing made Daisy uneasy.

  “Let’s get straight to it, then,” Vaughn said, taking a seat next to Daisy on the couch. Jaime settled himself on an armchair across from them.

  “I’m sure you know how concerned Vaughn’s been even before the murder.”

  Daisy eyed her brother. “No. You don’t say.”

  Jaime smiled. Vaughn didn’t.

  “We’ve been looking into some options, along with the investigation. As long as the stalker continues to evade police, the prime goal is keeping you safe. To that end, I have an idea.”

  “That sounds ominous coming from an FBI agent.”

  “How do you feel about Wyoming?”

  “Cold,” Daisy replied dryly.

  “I have a friend I was in Quantico with. He has a security business. I talked to him about your situation and he came up with a plan. It involves isolating you.”

  “I was isolated before. The cabin—”

  “Is isolated, but not completely off the grid,” Vaughn said of their old family cabin that had been vandalized during her last hiding stint. “It was traceable, and you’ve been easy to follow. We’re going to take extra precautions to make sure you aren’t followed to Wyoming.”

  Daisy wanted to close her eyes, but she shifted Nora in her arms and looked down at the baby instead. “So you want me to secretly jet off to Wyoming and then what?”

  “And then you’re safe while we find this guy. This is murder now. Things are escalating, which means everyone else’s investigation is going to escalate.”

  “We can have you there by tomorrow afternoon,” Jaime said. “They’ll be ready for you.”

  Part of her wanted to argue, but Tom’s lifeless body flashed into her mind. She didn’t want to die. Not like that. And more, so much more, she didn’t want Vaughn or his precious family in the crosshairs.

  “Just tell me what I need to do.”

  * * *

  ZACH SIMMONS SURVEYED the town. It looked like every picture of a ghost town he’d ever seen. Empty, windowless buildings. Dusty dirt road that would have once been a bustling Main Street. You could feel the history, and the utter emptiness.

  It was perfect.

  He grinned over at his soon-to-be brother-in-law and business partner. “Still worried about the investment?”

  Cam Delaney eyed him. “Hell yes, I’m still worried.” He scanned the dilapidated buildings and the way the mountains jutted out in the distance, like sentries, in Zach’s mind. This would be a place of protection. Of safety.

  “This job’s a big one for your first.”

  Zach nodded. He was under no illusions this wasn’t a giant challenge. Tricky and messy and complicated. He couldn’t explain to Cam, or anyone really, how thrilling it was to be out of the confines of the FBI’s rules and regulations. He wouldn’t take his time back as an agent for anything, but it had been stifling in the end.

  So stifling he’d ended up getting himself kicked out.

  This was better. Even if the first job was with some spoiled country singer star who’d gotten herself in a mess of trouble. Probably her own doing. But she was in trouble, and Zach and Cam’s security company was getting paid, seriously paid, to keep her safe.

  “Laurel come up with any connection to you guys?” Zach asked, hoping Daisy Delaney’s last name was a coincidence. Not that he’d tell anyone, but all the Carson and Delaney coupling worried him a little.

  He was technically a Carson, though his mother had run away from her family at eighteen and only started reconnecting this year. He told himself he didn’t believe in curses or the Carson-Delaney feud the town of Bent, Wyoming, was so invested in.

  So invested, Main Street was practically split down the middle—Carson businesses on one side, Delaney businesses on the other. Then there was the curse talk, which said if a Carson and Delaney were ever friendly, or God forbid, romantic, only bad things would befall Bent.

  But over the course of the past year Carsons and Delaneys had been falling for each other left and right, and while there’d been a certain uptick in trouble in Bent, everything and everyone was fine.

  Which his cousins and their sig
nificant others had turned into believing it was all meant to be, and went on and on about love solving things.

  Zach didn’t buy an inch of either belief—but still, the idea of a Delaney under his protection gave him a bit of a worried itch.

  “She’s still researching. It’s giving her something to do now that she’s on maternity leave. Baby should come any day, though, so I’m not sure she’ll come up with any answers one way or another. You can always ask the woman.”

  Zach shrugged. “Doesn’t matter either way.”

  Cam chuckled. “Sure. You’re not worried about what might happen if she’s some long-lost cousin of mine?”

  “No, I’m not. I’m worried about keeping Daisy Delaney safe from her stalker, assuming there really is one.” Because the Daisy Delaney case would set the tone for what he wanted to offer here. On the surface it would look like a ghost town. But below the surface it could be a place for people to find safety, security and hope while the slow wheels of justice handled things legally.

  If he believed in life callings, and these days he was starting to, his was this. He’d been a part of the slow wheels of justice. He’d failed at protecting because of it. Now he’d do all he could to keep those entrusted to him safe.

  “I should head off to the airport. You’ll do the double check?”

  Cam nodded. “Is turndown service offered as part of the package?”

  “Up to you, boss,” Zach said with a grin, slapping Cam on the back.

  Cam eyed him, but Zach ignored the perceptive look and headed for his car. He didn’t need Cam giving him another lecture about taking things slow, having reasonable expectations for a fledgling business.

  Zach had endured a bad year. Really bad. His brother had been admitted to a psychiatric ward, and his long-lost sister had forgiven the man who’d murdered their father and kidnapped her. He’d been kicked out of the FBI—which meant no hope of ever getting back into legitimate law enforcement. And then he’d tried to help one of his cousins outwit a stalker-murderer and been hurt in the process.

  In some ways all that hardship had brought him everything he’d ever wanted—his long-lost sister back in his life, a job that didn’t seem to choke the very life out of him and some closure over the murder of his father.

  Then there was this project. Ghost Town. He couldn’t tamp down his enthusiasm, his excitement. He had to grab on to the rightness he finally felt and hold on to it with everything he had.

  He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to move forward.

  Daisy Delaney was going to be the way to do that. He drove down deserted Wyoming roads to the highway, then to the regional airport in Dubois where his first client would be landing any minute.

  Zach parked and entered the small airport, all the excitement of a new job still buzzing inside him.

  He’d facilitated crisscrossing flights with his former FBI buddy, and only Zach knew the disguise she’d be wearing. Though he wondered how much a wig and sunglasses would do for a famous singer.

  Zach liked country music as much as the next guy, so it was impossible not to know Daisy Delaney’s music. She’d somehow eclipsed even her father’s outlaw country reputation with wild songs about drinking, cheating and revenge. Country fans either loved her or loved to complain about her.

  Of course, since her divorce from all-American sweetheart Jordan Jones, the complainers had gotten more vocal. Zach hadn’t followed it all, but he’d read up on it once this assignment had come along. She’d been eviscerated in the press, even when the stalking started. Many thought it was a publicity ploy to get people to feel sorry for her.

  It had not worked.

  Zach couldn’t deny it was a possibility, even if a man was dead—the security guard. A shame. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t a ploy. You never knew with the rich and famous.

  Still, Zach was determined to make his own conclusions about Daisy Delaney and what might be going on with her stalker, or fictional stalker as the case may be.

  The small crowd walked through the security gates. He’d been told to look for black hair and clothes, a red bag and purple cowboy boots. He spotted her immediately.

  In person, she was surprisingly petite. She didn’t exactly look like a woman who’d burn your house down if you looked at another woman the wrong way, but looks could be deceiving.

  He’d done enough undercover work to know that well.

  He adjusted his hat, gave the signal he’d told her people to expect and she nodded and walked over to him.

  “You must be Mr. Hughes.” She used the fake name Jaime had chosen and held out a hand. The sunglasses she wore hid her eyes, and the mass of black hair hid most of her face. Whatever her emotions were, they were well hidden. Which was good. It wouldn’t do to have nerves radiating off her.

  He took her outstretched hand and shook it. “And you must be Ms. Bravo.” Fake names, but soon enough they wouldn’t need to bother with that. “Any more bags?” he asked, nodding to the lone duffel bag she carried.

  She shook her head.

  “Follow me.”

  She eyed everyone in the airport as they walked outside, but her shoulders and stride were relaxed as she kept up with him. She didn’t fidget or dart. If she was fearing her life, she knew how to hide it.

  He opened the passenger-side door to his car. She slid inside. Still no sign of concern over getting into a car with a stranger. Zach frowned as he skirted the car to the driver’s side.

  But he wiped the frown into a placid expression as he slid into his seat. “We have about a thirty-minute drive ahead of us.” He pushed the car into Drive and pulled out of the airport parking lot. “You could take your wig off,” he offered. “Get comfortable.”

  “I’d prefer to wait.”

  He nodded as he drove. Tough case. A hint of nerves here and there, but overall a very cool customer. Cautious, though, so she clearly took the threat of danger seriously.

  He drove in silence through the middle of nowhere Wyoming. He flicked a few glances her way, though it was hard to discern anything. He didn’t get the impression she was impressed, but he hadn’t expected her to be. He imagined she preferred, if not the glitz and glam of the city, the slow ease of wealthy Southern life she was probably used to.

  Wyoming wouldn’t offer that, but it would offer her security. He drove down the main street that was now his domain, this ghost town he and Cam had bought outright.

  At some point they’d all be safe houses. Or maybe even a functioning town behind the facade of desertion and decay.

  For right now, though, it was just the main house. He pulled up in front of the giant showpiece.

  It had been built over a century ago by some railroad executive. From the outside the windows were all knocked out, the wood was faded and peeling paint hung off. Everything sagged, and it had the faint air of haunted house.

  It made him grin every time. “Well, here we are.”

  For the first time he could read her expression. Pure, unadulterated horror. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get a little kick out of that. “I promise it’s not as bad as it looks.”

  She wrenched her gaze away from the large house, then stared at him through the dark sunglasses. “Can I see your ID or something?” she demanded.

  He shifted and pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Have at it.” He pushed open the door and got out of the car. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

  Copyright © 2019 by Nicole Helm

  ISBN-13: 9781488045936

  Calculated Risk

  Copyright © 2019 by Janie Crouch

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled
, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com