Executive Bodyguard (The Enforcers)

by Debra Webb

  She refused to believe that.

  “The truth is,” he began, his gaze locked with hers, searching, analyzing, “I only want to protect you. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  Cain reached out to her, not with his hands, but with his mind. I would never do anything to hurt you. Never. I only want to protect you. She must understand that truth. He needed her complete trust.

  She shuddered as his mind touched hers. She wouldn’t understand how it happened, would only know that somehow she believed him…or felt his words were sincere. But it would be enough.

  “For weeks now,” she said slowly as if still uncertain as to whether she should trust him fully, “I’ve received calls. Only a few, four or five maybe.”

  “What calls?” He kept his tone soothing, not threatening in any way. Didn’t offer to move closer or to touch her. He didn’t want to risk breaking the fragile spell his mindwalk had woven. She wanted to believe him…desperately.

  “Calls from you.” She searched his eyes, looked for any sign of deceit. “While you were in the hospital, is it possible you tried to call me and didn’t realize it? Maybe even while still in some form of coma?”

  This was something Center hadn’t been informed of. Cain wondered who she had shared this information with. “I don’t think so.” He shrugged for good measure. “I’m not sure there was even a phone in the room. Who’s investigating the calls?”

  She moistened her lips again. His gaze followed the motion of her pink tongue and his mouth parched. He blinked, confused once more by the sensations looking at her generated in him. He felt a tightening that made him want to touch her.

  “There’s nothing to investigate.” She said the words with strength and conviction, but her eyes, her expression belied her tone. Vulnerability shimmered in her eyes, trembled on her lips. “No unexplained calls showed up on the register of incoming calls or on the main system voice mail. I even added an answering machine to my private line just for my own peace of mind after that but I haven’t received another call. Not until today, but there’s no answering machine here and there was no number on the caller ID unit. And…the letter disappeared.”

  A frown worked its way across his brow. “What letter?”

  Something else Center hadn’t heard about.

  “It was faxed directly to the machine in my office.” Caroline wasn’t making sense, she knew she had to get a firmer hold on her emotions. She looked away in an attempt to hide the weakness she did not want him to see in her eyes. She’d read the letter over and over…had shared it with Redmond. But he’d later insisted that he had seen no such letter. He’d admitted to her having told him that she received one but nothing more.

  “It was your handwriting,” she told her husband, then shook her head, confusion churning inside her. She had received the letter. It had been his handwriting. She hadn’t imagined it. “You needed my help.” Her gaze collided with his once more. “Just like in the calls.”

  “A handwriting analyst confirmed your suspicion?” He watched her closely now as if he expected her to fall apart at any second.

  The idea that her vulnerability showed so clearly infuriated her all the more. She was stronger than this. What was wrong with her? Maybe she was losing her grip on reality.

  “No,” she said sharply, too sharply. She regretted the outburst immediately. Just another indicator of how very close she was to the edge. “The letter disappeared before I could have anyone take a look at it.”

  “Did anyone else besides you see it?” he asked.

  The question was completely logical. She knew it was but it made her want to scream all the same. “Yes!” She stared into those assessing eyes and said the rest. “But he has no recall of the incident so I guess the real answer is no.”

  “Who?”

  She closed her eyes and drew in a breath to bolster her wavering courage. “Redmond,” she admitted. “I showed it to him, but he swears I didn’t.”

  “What about the monitors?”

  She’d thought of that as well. Certain White House offices were monitored 24/7, had been in one way or another since before the Nixon administration. It preserved a certain level of honesty and integrity within those walls. “I met him for lunch to discuss the matter. I needed privacy, now I wish I hadn’t.”

  “What about when you received the fax? That should have been documented as well.”

  She laughed, the sound bitter even to her own ears. “Of course it was, but the fax I read wasn’t the one they found on my desk with the time and date stamp that matched the one on the video recording of my actions when it was played back.”

  Justin nodded. “The tape could have been altered.”

  She had to turn away from him. Emotion surged into her eyes, burning, threatening her hold on composure. She had so wanted to hear those words. To have him believe her above all else. But it sounded unreasonable even to her. Who would have access to the monitoring system? Someone on her staff. She had handpicked most of her staff. What did that say about her judgment? She remembered well how even Copeland had looked at her when she suggested that very thing. He’d thought she was out of her mind. Of course he would never have said so and was only too happy to call in the FBI and start an official investigation if need be. But the risk of anyone finding what could be the truth had been too great.

  Caroline Winters might just be losing her mind.

  She wouldn’t take the risk. Rupert had worried about her. Had almost talked her into relinquishing her post for a time. Maybe she should have.

  “Thank you for having so much faith in me, Justin.” She met his gaze once more. At least he appeared to believe her. “I didn’t pursue the matter. But now…”

  Her words trailed off but he knew the rest. She’d gotten another call and now she wondered. Was she losing it or was someone playing a very dirty game? Maybe even him.

  “Caroline.” He took her hands in his. “You have to believe me when I say I would never be involved with anything that would hurt you.” Cain had grown so accustomed to using Justin’s tone and cadence that he did it now without thought. He knew that was important to the mission, but on some level he suddenly felt as if he’d lost something of himself. Another peculiar feeling. “Please let me handle this. I know people who might be able to help.”

  She shook her head, bewildered. “What people? I have the best—”

  “Just let me look into it,” he urged. “Let’s not bring anyone on your staff into this until we have to. We need to be sure who we can trust.”

  She didn’t answer right away, simply stared into his eyes, assessing. “All right. We’ll do this your way for a little while.”

  Cain considered that step a major milestone in gaining her full confidence. The need for her complete trust might not become an issue but if it did, he felt reasonably sure that he was halfway there.

  DIVERSIONARY ROUTE SIX took twice as long to reach civilization as the route they’d taken when she came to the safe house some forty-odd hours ago. Maybe more. But who was counting?

  Caroline stared out at the passing landscape in an effort to ignore the mounting tension inside the car. Both Copeland and Levitt had insisted on accompanying her. Justin sat silently at her side. All were immensely annoyed that she would not be swayed from her decision.

  After the call and then her blunt discussion with Justin she’d needed to talk to someone neutral. Someone who didn’t care about position and power or anything else related to the White House. Dennis Patrick was her friend. They’d attended Harvard together. She’d walked away a civil attorney, he a psychiatrist. The only difference was he made a great deal more money than she did. The idea brought a smile to her lips. He loved bragging about that fact, had teased that the pressure of her “job” was not in keeping with the salary.

  That was what she loved most about Dennis. He didn’t take himself or anyone else too seriously. Right now she needed that kind of objectivity.

  Yes, leaving the compound w
as a risk. But she would not be held prisoner. Precautions yes, but nothing more. This weekend was more about coming to terms with Justin’s return than with keeping her safe. At least that’s what she’d told herself repeatedly since agreeing to come here.

  She’d called Dennis and insisted that they have lunch to discuss recent developments privately. Her phones were monitored. Her every move was watched. If she thought about it for too long it could make her seriously uneasy.

  But she didn’t. It was the fact of her life at this time and, if she were really lucky, would be for another term after this one.

  When they arrived at the small town some twenty miles away—that actually took thirty-five miles to reach from the safe house—Copeland received a call from the advance security team, which was already in place and had already scoped out the restaurant as well as the town. Arrangements had been made for her lunch to be served in a room reserved for parties. Security had told the restaurant owner that she was a diplomatic VIP visiting from Germany. The owner had assured complete privacy from employees as well as customers.

  True to his word the rear parking lot had been cleared except for one car, a luxury BMW that belonged to Dennis. A six-man security team waited to escort her into the room through the rear of the restaurant, including the kitchen which had temporarily been cleared for her walk-through. Justin had refused to stay behind at the safe house, but now remained with Copeland since she had not invited him to join her. She needed this time alone with her friend. Levitt stationed himself just inside the room where she and Dennis would dine. The small party room seated about twenty in Caroline’s estimation. Dennis waited there with a big grin on his face.

  “Wow,” he exclaimed facetiously. “When you make an entrance, you really make one, don’t you?” He stood as she approached him, then bent to brush a kiss on her cheek. “Good to see you, Caroline.”

  She hugged him, couldn’t resist the temptation. Dennis had always been such a special friend. One who completely understood her psyche. But then, that was his job, wasn’t it? But this wasn’t about work, this was about being friends in the purest sense of the word.

  He pulled out her chair, then took his own. “So, tell me what’s going on with you. I saw the press conference.” He threw up his hands in amazement. “It’s astounding that Justin was in a coma in that hospital all that time.”

  She nodded, then sipped her water which had already been tested for drugs or other toxins, as her food would be. “It’s incredible that no one who worked there ever realized who he was. But from what they told me he looked a mess when he arrived. His hair and beard were overlong. His injuries were their primary concern. They felt certain he would die.” Her eyebrows pushed upward in punctuation of her next statement. “Not to mention that they had him pegged as some fugitive from justice.”

  Dennis laughed. “Oh, I’m sure that sat well with Justin when he woke up.”

  Caroline frowned as she considered their initial reunion as well as the time since then. “He hasn’t complained actually.” How could she have forgotten after five years of marriage what a stickler for details Justin was? He’d always gotten annoyed when things didn’t go as planned. He’d never allowed the minor schedule changes or missing buttons on a suit returned from the cleaners just to roll off his back. He’d fussed and fretted until he had set things to right whenever possible. Just another of the changes in his personality since waking from that coma. She hadn’t thought of that until this second.

  “That’s a good thing,” Dennis assured.

  Salads were served by one of the agents on her security detail. Levitt and Copeland didn’t want any up-close-and-personal interaction between her and the restaurant’s staff.

  “I suppose so,” she agreed, distracted by the whole idea. How could she have locked away so much in those three months? It was as if she’d purposely forgotten all the unpleasant things about her marriage.

  “Tell me what’s up. You sounded a little upset when you called.” Dennis dug into his salad as if he were ravenous. It was past two, she imagined he normally had lunch before now. How had he assessed her emotional state so easily? Well, that’s why they paid him the big bucks, she mused.

  “Remember those calls I told you about?” Dennis was the only human being on the planet she’d told other than Redmond, Copeland, and Rupert and those three had been necessary.

  Dennis nodded as he chewed.

  Caroline picked at her own salad and considered how to tell him the rest. “Well, they couldn’t find the calls on the incoming call log. And then there was the letter that was faxed to me.”

  “What letter?” His gaze narrowed. “Have you been holding out on me, Caroline?” he asked jokingly but there was a kind of seriousness beneath the tease.

  She shrugged. “It was his handwriting. I know it was.”

  “The content please,” Dennis urged.

  “‘Caroline, help me,’” she recited the three words on the handwritten note.

  “You’re certain this was his handwriting? It could have been from someone who wanted you to believe it was Justin’s. Just like the calls. Some forgeries are almost impossible to tell from the real thing.”

  She sighed. “I know. Rupert insists that’s the case.” She rolled her eyes. “Now Redmond, well he believes I imagined all of it.”

  “He’s an ass,” Dennis said flatly. “I don’t like him. Never have.” He pointed at her with his fork. “If you remember correctly I told you as much at that first dinner you invited me to before you announced him as your running mate.”

  If he only knew how right he was. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  Something changed in his expression. “Has something more than what you’ve told me happened? Something involving Redmond?” He said the last with a scowl. During her hesitation he added, “I hate that bastard.”

  She was beginning to feel the same way. “He’s been working on my staff, undermining loyalties. Tossing out innuendoes to the Cabinet, leaking the crap you read to the press.”

  “You’re kidding!” Dennis’s astonished look combined with his disdainful exclamation made her laugh.

  Caroline just couldn’t help it. Maybe it was hysteria, whatever it was, she laughed long and hard before abruptly pulling herself back together. “Unfortunately it’s true. He’s been so successful even Rupert suggested I invoke the Twenty-Fifth.”

  Dennis’s eyes were the ones rolling this time. “Oh, my God! This just gets better and better. I hope you told him to kiss your—”

  “I almost took his advice,” she said before he could finish the crude statement. Dennis might be a polished Harvard graduate, but he called ’em like he saw ’em.

  “Thank God your good sense overrode his temporary insanity.”

  She let go another sigh. “I wish I could claim that foresight. Actually the call that Justin had been found stalled the action. But Redmond knows how close I was and is still pushing for me to take some time, as he puts it.” She forced a pained smile.

  “How thoughtful of him,” Dennis deduced. “Forget about those senior White House officials for now and tell me about Justin.”

  While they finished their salads and moved on to the main course of pork roast and steamed vegetables, Caroline told him all that had unfolded in the past three days. He stopped her occasionally for clarification but otherwise remained silent, except for the clink of silver against china, as she talked.

  “What do you think?” she asked when she’d finished her lengthy monologue and had given him a couple of minutes to absorb all that she’d related.

  He swallowed then cleared his throat. Looking thoughtful, he offered, “It’s not uncommon for survivors of catastrophic tragedy to do a complete turnaround.” He shrugged. “Hell, it’s not unusual for those who awaken from prolonged coma to have a new zest for life. He could be genuinely interested in a new start.”

  That was, in a nutshell, exactly what she’d wanted to hear and yet the hesitation was still there. “B
ut how can I be sure it’ll last?”

  Dennis made a skeptical sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You want assurances? Get real, Caroline.”

  For the first time since they’d sat down Copeland shot Dennis a look. Caroline arrowed Copeland an assuring look. Dennis was her friend. He could be loud, yes, but he meant no disrespect. She knew he wouldn’t dream of speaking to her in that manner in public.

  “I’ve been through three marriages and countless relationships,” he added, his tone a little subtler. “There are no assurances.”

  “That may be,” she said pointedly, suddenly wondering why she would ask a thrice-divorced man for marital advice, “My feelings aren’t the only ones involved here. I want some assurances that I’m not about to plunge headlong into a huge mistake.”

  “Well, get in line,” he said flatly. “Everybody wants to feel confident that a relationship is the right one. That a man or woman with whom they’ve chosen to move forward into marriage or similar commitment is the one. It doesn’t exist. Do you hear me?” he prodded. “There are no reassurances when you’re dealing with other humans. Life is not certain. Nothing is.”

  He was right. She knew he was. But she didn’t have to like it. But taking advantage of Justin if all his faculties weren’t in order just didn’t feel right. Her uncharacteristic uncertainty on the matter was more about him than about her.

  “So what are you saying?” she asked crisply.

  “That you go for it,” he retorted, “on the condition that you’ll still respect me and be my friend in the morning.”

  Only Dennis could come up with such a self-serving twist on such a hideous cliché.

  “Caroline,” he said quietly, for her ears only, as he leaned toward her, “go for it. It’s perfectly legal. He’s your husband, for Pete’s sakes. Sleep with the man. Have all the amazing orgasms he can give you. Love it! Get pregnant if your heart so desires. And don’t feel even a glimmer of guilt. It’s not illegal and it’s not a sin. What more could you ask?”