“Why?” the gravelly voice demanded, sounding significantly less combative than it had just a moment earlier.
Reaching the judge and able to make out what the person on the other end was asking, Brian raised his voice so that the judge could hear him over the loud voice on the cell phone. “Tell him I’m sending a patrol car over. It’ll be there in a few minutes.” He made eye contact with Kincannon. “We’ll keep him safe.”
Blake nodded his thanks toward the chief. “Dad, they’re sending a—”
“I heard, I heard.” Alexander cut him off. “I’m not deaf yet, you know.” And then a degree of excitement entered his voice. “This have anything to do with that pusher who took a powder?”
“Maybe. I don’t know yet.” Although, he added silently, he was pretty certain that it was. Blake heard his father sigh dramatically and then abruptly terminate the connection. Closing his own phone, Blake slipped it back into the pocket of his robe. He looked at Brian, his gratitude rising to the foreground. “Thank you.”
“Least I can do,” Brian acknowledged, then he nodded toward his niece. “Greer alerted me to the message you received on your laptop.” He lowered his eyes to the state-of-the-art computer on the judge’s desk. “I’m going to have to take it, Your Honor. Maybe one of our people can trace where the e-mail originated.” He knew for a fact that Brenda, his son Dax’s wife, would all but make a computer sit up and beg. Maybe she could pull this miracle off, as well.
Ordinarily, Blake might have protested about protecting the privacy of his court cases, but in this case, there was no need. Brian Cavanaugh was a veritable pillar of ethics. So he nodded, turning the laptop around and handing it over to the chief.
“Whatever you need,” he told the older man.
Brian closed the lid, securing it in place. “Right now, it’s what you need that’s important,” he corrected. “It looks as if this Munro character feels he has a specific beef with you that goes beyond his own case. As I heard it, you sent several of his people away with the maximum sentence when they were convicted a couple of years ago.”
Blake wanted no credit for serving justice. It was what it was. “Just doing my job, Chief.”
“And now I’m doing mine,” Brian countered. “You need protection, Judge.”
Blake did not savor relinquishing his privacy, but there was his father to think of, so he nodded.
“A patrol car making the rounds every hour or so should do it,” he speculated.
“What about the other fifty-nine minutes?” Brian asked mildly.
Blake’s eyes narrowed as he tried to follow the chief’s reasoning. “Excuse me?”
“The way I see it, Judge, until this drug dealer is caught, you’re going to need twenty-four-hour protection, not just a patrol car passing by every now and then.”
Blake didn’t want to argue, but he definitely didn’t want to acquiesce, either. “Isn’t that a little extreme, Chief?”
“Death is extreme, Judge, everything else is a distant second,” Greer pointed out, feeling that the chief could use a little verbal backup right about now. She could understand the desire to remain independent. In the judge’s place, she’d feel the same way. But Munro would think nothing of putting a bullet right between the judge’s eyes. It would seem like a crime to disfigure that noble profile with a bullet.
In return for her support, Greer saw the chief smile at her. She returned the smile, not recognizing the expression for what it was. Had she been part of the family longer, she might have known that the smile that was curving his mouth was the one Brian wore when he was about to deliver a very salient point, and triumphantly drive it home.
“I’m glad you feel that way, Greer.”
She might not have been able to pick up on the chief’s expressions, but there was something in his tone of voice that softly warned her she was in big trouble. Not the disciplinary kind, but the kind that meant she was on the verge of something she would regard as less than pleasant happening.
“Why, sir?” she asked her superior quietly, never taking her eyes off Brian’s face.
Even as Greer asked for clarification, she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she knew why Brian had just expressed his satisfaction at her agreement.
“Because I’m assigning you to be Judge Kincannon’s bodyguard.”
It was hard to say which of them was more averse to the news they’d just received, she or Kincannon.
“I’m not going into hiding,” Blake protested with feeling.
“Nobody said anything about hiding,” Brian told him. With enough effort, they could keep the judge safe and still presiding over his courtroom. But it would be tricky. Which was why he felt that Greer was the person for the job. She was a self-starter who thought outside the box.
“Look, Chief Cavanaugh,” Blake began again, picking his words slowly, “I’m very grateful that you’re sending a car to watch over my father, but I’m not a helpless old man—”
He could just hear his father’s reaction to that description. At seventy-three, the former gunnery sergeant was still fit, still capable of pummeling someone to the ground with his fists as long as that someone didn’t tower more than six inches over him. There was nothing “ex” about this marine.
“A bullet is a great equalizer.”
Had that come out of her mouth? Greer thought suddenly. Even suppressing annoyance at the confining assignment she’d just been handed, she found herself still performing like a good little soldier. Pressing her lips together, she caught herself longing for the days that she’d been a rebel. A rebel wasn’t in danger of going comatose standing guard over someone. Being a bodyguard was only marginally better than being forced to sit in a car, maintaining surveillance on a suspect. She hated both assignments with a passion. Inactivity was not in her DNA.
But it looked like, judging by the chief’s expression, she was stuck.
Maybe so, she thought the next moment, but she wasn’t about to go down without a fight—or without going on record that she was less than thrilled with the assignment.
“That’s right, it is,” Brian agreed with Greer’s succinct assessment. He smiled at his niece, clearly appreciating the backup. “Now,” the chief continued, “until we finally catch this Munro character, you’re assigned to the judge.”
Finally. She didn’t know if she had as much faith in the wheels of justice as he apparently did. Finally could mean days, or, more likely, it could mean weeks. She didn’t want to spend weeks babysitting, even if the person she was watching over was an incredibly good-looking specimen of manhood.
She was a good detective. She belonged in the field, damn it, not hovering over the judge like some misguided shadow.
“Chief, could I have a word with you?” she requested as he began to walk away.
Rather than answer verbally, Brian beckoned her to follow him as he walked out of the courtroom. With the judge’s laptop tucked under his arm.
Chapter 4
Greer stared at the chief of detectives’ back as she followed him into the hallway. Considering the stress and pressure he was always under, the man exuded strength and energy.
There was a lot to live up to being a Cavanaugh, she thought. People expected you to be at the top of your game, sharp and in good physical condition at the same time. It just went with the territory.
For the most part, the commotion in the hallway had died down. The area was relatively empty now. People had been taken aside for questioning and the rest of the police who’d been summoned were scattered throughout the building, conducting an intense room-to-room search.
But her mind wasn’t on the hallway or what was happening beyond it. Greer’s mind was on what she was going to say to the chief and how she was going to say it in order to hopefully get him to see things her way. She really didn’t want to take on this assignment and her primary reason didn’t even have anything to do with her staunch dislike of inactivity. It went far deeper than that.
Putting her request in the form of a plea wouldn’t carry any weight, she knew that. Even if it did, she didn’t think she was capable of resorting to begging. Begging wasn’t in her inherent makeup. She’d always taken her medicine and stoically faced up to her responsibilities, no matter what.
But in this case, it wasn’t just that she didn’t want to have to be the judge’s bodyguard. She was more than fairly certain that Kincannon wouldn’t want her hovering around him 24/7, or whatever ratio of time the chief decided that she had to put in. If the judge was forced to put up with a bodyguard—and from where she stood, she could see why it would be necessary—she was sure that she wouldn’t be the man’s first choice. Not by a long shot.
Brian abruptly stopped several feet beyond the courtroom’s double doors. Preoccupied, searching for the proper wording, Greer almost walked right into him. Catching herself, she stopped approximately an inch shy of colliding with her superior.
Sucking in her breath, she quickly backed up so that there was a decent amount of space between them. Under no circumstances did she want to appear to be crowding the man.
“Now, what is it you want to talk to me about?” Brian asked her genially.
By his tone and expression, the topic of conversation could have involved something personal and inconsequential. But Greer kept her guard up. He might be her uncle, but here, on the job, he was the man who was ultimately in charge. Family ties didn’t enter into it.
She reminded herself that, like the judge, Brian was tough, but fair. At best, she had a fifty-fifty chance. She’d had worse odds.
Greer forged ahead. “With all due respect, Chief, I’d rather you assigned someone else to be the judge’s bodyguard.”
“And why is that?” he asked her, his voice mild.
She cleared her throat, trying her best not to make this sound as if she was asking for preferential treatment, because she wasn’t.
“The judge and I…” She stumbled, then tried again. “We have some history.”
His expression never changed. “Were you lovers?”
Some of the air seemed to vanish from her lungs. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “No! No,” she repeated, doing her best to sound calm this time. “I… That is, he…”
It was not in his nature to make his people uncomfortable. That went double for family. Brian raised his hand, interrupting the halting flow of words. “If you’re about to refer to what I think you’re going to refer to, I’m well aware of your ‘history’ with the judge, Greer,” he told her.
She stared at him, stunned and at the same time, relieved that she wasn’t going to have to relive the ordeal by rendering a blow-by-blow description for him. “You are?”
The nod was almost imperceptible. “I made it a point to familiarize myself with your files—yours and your brothers’,” he clarified, not wanting her to think that he had singled her out for some reason. She was fairly new in this position and second-guessing was part of the process. He didn’t want to add a strong case of paranoia. “I like to know things about my family—and the people who ultimately work under me,” he explained, answering questions he knew she had to be thinking.
Greer took a breath. This had been easier than she thought. “So then you understand why I think it would be better if someone else was assigned to the judge?”
“No.”
The one word answer came out of nowhere and hit her like a detonating bomb. “No?” she echoed, hoping she’d heard wrong.
“No,” Brian repeated. His tone was mild, but there was no mistaking the firm undertone. “You are the most qualified to handle the job right now. You know the judge and, more importantly, you’re familiar with Munro, with the way he thinks, the way he acts.” That, he indicated, was of paramount importance. “That puts you several steps ahead of anyone else I’d assign to the detail,” he told her. “It only makes sense that I put you in charge.”
It might make sense to him, she thought, but that still didn’t make her comfortable with it. “Chief.” The single word packed all the appeal into it that she could muster.
The chief looked at her for a long moment, his gaze drying up whatever words she was planning to use. Drying up the words and her saliva, as well. It felt as if she had a mouthful of sand.
“You’re not asking me to give you special consideration, are you, Greer?” he finally asked.
God, she didn’t want him to think that. She shook her head with feeling. His tone had been low. Hers wasn’t. “No, sir.”
Brian’s smile was easy, pleasant. “Good, I didn’t think so.” About to turn away, he realized that he hadn’t finished yet. “How long will it take you to go home and pack some things?”
Somewhere distant in her head, she heard a door slamming. The door had bars on it. She was stuck. She was just going to have to make the best of it. “I’ve got a change of clothes in the car.”
The information had Brian’s smile widening. “You’re a Cavanaugh, all right. Always prepared.”
His compliment reminded her of something. Greer shifted slightly. “About that, sir?” she began, letting her voice trail off a little. Brian waited.
There were seven of them, seven “new” members of the family. There were the four who belonged to his bride of a little more than a year, and then there were the three who none of them had been prepared for. Triplets who comprised his late brother Mike’s secret other family. Lila’s children, all adults and all on the force, went by her first husband’s surname while Greer and her brothers had her late mother’s. All seven were told that they were welcomed to change their names to Cavanaugh if they wanted to.
Name change or not, that was what they were. Cavanaughs. But the decision strictly belonged to the seven individuals involved. He’d heard that it was going to be an “all-or-nothing” deal. The “jury” was still out on which way they would ultimately lean.
Or maybe the jury was ready to come in, he thought, looking down at the young woman who reminded him so much of Mike’s daughter, Patience.
“Yes?” he prodded.
She pressed her lips together. “For my part, I’ve decided yes.”
“Yes?” he echoed, unclear if it was “yes” she’d change her surname to Cavanaugh or “yes,” she’d keep the one she already had.
“Yes,” she repeated. “If it were only up to me, I’d like to change my last name to Cavanaugh. It’d be an honor.”
“We’d all like that,” he assured her. “Especially Andrew. And the honor goes both ways,” he added. “Anything else?”
“No, sir, that’s all.” Finished, Greer began to back up, trying not to dread what lay ahead. She was fairly certain that the judge wouldn’t bring up their first encounter, he seemed too self-contained for that, but she was fairly sure that the memory was probably never far from his mind. Which would make things very awkward and difficult between them.
Nobody said being a cop was going to be easy, she reminded herself.
“Good,” Brian was saying. “Then go tell the judge that you’re going to be his new houseguest for the foreseeable future.”
Nodding, Greer drew in a deep, fortifying breath. There was no way around this.
Who knew, maybe they’d get lucky and one of the chief’s men had already located Munro at the bailiff’s house.
Greer had her doubts but she mentally crossed her fingers anyway as she turned around and pushed open the padded black leather doors. For what felt like the umpteenth time that day, she walked into the courtroom.
The judge wasn’t there.
Adrenaline shot through her veins like a spring-propelled pinball. Greer quickly scanned the room. There was no sign of the man
she was supposed to be guarding. The only one left in the room was the court stenographer, carefully packing up her steno machine.
Greer hurried over to the thin blonde. “Where’s the judge?” she demanded.
Closing the case and snapping its locks into place, the woman picked up her equipment. She made no secret of the fact that she was eager to leave. The unexpected question made her frown thoughtfully.
“In his chambers, I guess,” she replied.
“I hope you guessed right,” Greer muttered under her breath as she hurried to the rear of the room. There was an exit to the right of the judge’s desk. This had to be what he’d used to pull his disappearing act.
Damn it, she thought, finding herself in a narrow hallway, why couldn’t the man stay put? Didn’t he understand the gravity of the situation? Or did Kincannon understand it and just believed himself to be bulletproof?
Turning a corner, she found herself facing a closed door. She had her weapon out and ready to fire in one swift movement. There was no telling what she’d find on the other side of the door. For all she knew, Munro had been lying in wait for the judge in his own chambers. The drug dealer was just crazy enough to do it.
Biting off a few choice words, she kicked open the door, weapon aimed and poised to shoot at anything that made a wrong move.
Startled, the man inside the room swung around.
Kincannon.
Alone.
A hiss of air escaped through her clenched teeth and Greer lowered her weapon. Relief and anger converged within her.
Before she’d made her entrance, the judge had taken off his robe and hung it carefully on a hanger, apparently respectful of all the black cloth represented. He frowned now as she lowered her weapon.
“Most people knock before kicking down a door and bursting into someone’s chambers.” His voice was deceptively calm.
Greer’s mouth dropped open. He was going to be high-handed and lecture her? Seriously? “First of all, I didn’t kick down the door. It’s still attached.”
Cavanaugh Judgment Page 4
