YULETIDE PROTECTOR

by Julie Miller

  Then he nodded to her clothes and the cop was back.

  “Get dressed.”

  Chapter Six

  The colorful holiday lights outlining every rooftop and spire of the Country Club Plaza reflected in Spencer’s rearview mirror as he pulled into a parking space near Bailey’s Lexus outside her brownstone apartment building.

  Leaving his coat open to have easy access to his gun and badge, he climbed out of his SUV and locked it. The wintry dampness of the night air bit into the tips of his nose and ears, sharpening his senses as he turned a slow 360. The security here was decent enough, he supposed. Good neighborhood, home to young professionals and wealthy retirees. Well-lit street with private parking. A key pad and card-swipe lock on the front and side doors.

  He wasn’t thrilled with the high mountains of snow piled beside the walkways and parking lot where the pavement had been cleared. Both impeded sight lines and offered anyone who covered his or her tracks several easy places to hide. And the snowflakes, hanging like dust motes in the air, the last gasp of this afternoon’s storm, would need to be scraped from the sidewalks and drive before it glazed over into icy patches that could hinder traction should Bailey need to run or drive away quickly.

  “Are you going to stand out here and freeze?” Bailey’s remote beeped twice, signaling that her car was locked. “Or did you see something?” Her head swiveled around toward the street. “Is someone following us?”

  “No. We’re good.”

  A cloud of warm breath obscured her face for a moment when she turned back to face him. When the frosty cloud cleared, Spencer could see the fatigue that shadowed her eyes and the soft lines that bracketed her rosy pink lips. Part of him wanted to keep seeing the woman who was too young and ingenuous for his sensibilities. But despite the earmuffs and orange coat, Bailey’s expression hinted at a knowledge of the darker side of life that could only be learned through fear and loss. “So what’s the problem?” she asked.

  She had a woman’s mouth, Spencer observed idly. Full, soft, articulate. Like the lean curves of her body, there was little that was girlish about Bailey Austin anymore. He’d have to find some other excuse to keep her at arm’s length and convince his libido that he wasn’t interested in her.

  He met her expectant gaze over the roof of her car, proving to himself that he could look into those changeable blue eyes and not react. “I’ll walk you in.”

  She moved to meet him at the front of her car. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He settled his hand at the small of her back, urging her into a brisk walk to the front door. He took note of the number of windows lit up in the building. “Do you know all your neighbors?”

  “Most of them.” She pulled her key from her purse. “You didn’t answer my question. Did you see something that alarmed you?”

  “What floor are you on?”

  “Second.”

  “Good. First floor apartments are easier to break into.”

  “Interesting fact. Not very comforting, and still not an answer to my question.” They stopped at the front door and she glanced up.

  Spencer avoided making eye contact this time and nodded toward the lock. He had nothing to prove to himself. He was just a cop escorting a frightened woman home. He wasn’t involved. “I want to have a look around inside your apartment, too. Double-check that everything’s secure.”

  With a sigh of frustration, she slid her card through the lock and pushed open the door. “Spencer. If there’s one thing I can count on you to do is to give me a straight answer. Even if I don’t like what you have to say.”

  He relented once they were standing on the lobby’s beige-and-gold carpet, waiting for the wrought-iron elevator to make its way downstairs. “So far, everything’s fine. Since we left the gym, I haven’t seen any indication of anyone showing more interest in you than they should.”

  Except for himself.

  Spencer wisely pulled his hand away from Bailey’s back and unbuttoned his coat. He’d made the mistake of reaching for her more than once at the gym—making sure she was unharmed, reassuring her...reassuring himself she was okay. Touching her was a habit he could too easily fall into if he didn’t keep his fingers busy with other important things, like tucking his gloves into his pockets or brushing the snow from his hair.

  “That’s good, right?” She wanted an explanation for his heightened sense of vigilance. “Do you think there’ll be more threats?”

  With only the muffled sounds of a television behind the building’s thick walls to indicate that there was anyone else about, and the doors locked behind him, he had no reason to be standing this close to her. Since the antique elevator seemed to be taking its time, he headed for the stairs, and Bailey followed.

  “The Cleaner will probably wait to see how you react to the first warning.” He shortened his stride to take the stairs one at a time, allowing her to pass him and lead the way to her apartment. “But I don’t want to take the chance that the threats escalate into something more serious.”

  She stopped at the door marked with a black number 10 on it. “Thank you for talking to me like I’m an adult.” She inserted one key into the dead bolt lock and turned it. “It still scares me, but at least I can be prepared. I have an idea of what to expect.”

  “No, you don’t.” She wanted straight answers? “If the pictures don’t scare you away from Elliott’s trial, then she’s going to look for other ways to intimidate you. Or save herself the trouble of a drawn-out stalking campaign and eliminate you as a witness altogether.”

  She paused with her key in the door knob and her face went pale. “Eliminate...?”

  “Bailey?” The door to number 12 swung open and Bailey jumped. Spencer pushed aside his jacket and had his fingers on the snap of his holster before a barefoot dynamo with an oversize Park University sweatshirt and a blond ponytail stepped out, flashing a big smile and a friendly “hey” to him before turning to Bailey. “I thought I heard voices out here. I’m glad I caught you. You’re home late. How’d the job interview go? And who’s the tall Scotsman?”

  “Scotsman...?” The color returned to Bailey’s cheeks and Spencer let his jacket slide back into place over his gun. “Oh, the red hair. Hi, Corie.” Bailey’s wry smile met a matching one in return. “This afternoon wasn’t great.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Next time, right?” The girl next door was a shorter, slightly younger version of Bailey, reminding him of the Bailey he’d first met a couple of years earlier. The woman nudged Bailey’s elbow. “I didn’t know this was date night. And all I’m doing is sittin’ at home, painting my toenails. So...do I get an introduction?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s not a date. Corie Rudolf, this is Spencer Montgomery.”

  Chatty, yes, but not unobservant. The petite blonde extended her hand, glancing at Spencer’s badge. “Cop?”

  “Yes, ma’am. KCPD.”

  Corie tapped her chest. “Accountant. Eckhardt and Galloway. Taken?”

  Wow. The woman was certainly direct. But Spencer had neither the time nor the inclination to flirt. “Nice to meet you.” He made a quick assessment of her natural coloring and last name. “German?”

  The young blonde laughed. “Oh, you’re good. And was I right about your heritage?”

  Spencer nodded. “Guilty as charged.”

  “He’s a charmer, Bails.” The frown Bailey tilted his way indicated she might disagree. Good. He didn’t need any more of whatever this magnetic pull was zinging between them, anyway.

  “Were you looking for me?” Bailey asked, putting the kibosh on the other woman’s flirty chitchat.

  “Right.” Corie snapped her fingers before reaching inside her front door. She returned with a small, cube-shaped package wrapped in brown paper and a shipping label. “The delivery man dropped this off at m
y place since you were gone.”

  “Hold on.” Spencer grabbed the package before Corie could hand it off. “Did you order anything?”

  “I’ve done lots of online Christmas shopping.” Bailey pointed to the logo on the box. “That was one company I used.”

  “All right.” Spencer scanned the box for a quick verification of the return address. Recognizing the online store instead of an anonymous package, he relaxed his suspicion a fraction, even if the timing of the gift bothered him. “Here.”

  He handed off the package and Bailey thanked her friend before turning to him. “Am I supposed to second guess everything that comes into my world now?”

  “It’s better to err on the side of caution.” Straight talk, as promised. No charm needed for that.

  “Is something going on?” Corie asked, the wattage of her smile finally dimming. “The delivery man said someone had to sign for it, so I did. I hope that was okay.”

  “Of course,” Bailey assured her. “That’s the standing agreement between us, right? Water each other’s plants, pick up each other’s packages. I appreciate you having my back.”

  “For a minute there, I thought I was in trouble.” Corie’s sigh of relief was audible. Did she not know about Bailey’s rape? He didn’t suppose that was something that came up in casual conversation with the next door neighbor. And he had a feeling Corie Rudolf spent a lot more time socializing than keeping up with current events. “Because I’m half tempted to order some more Christmas presents so that guy has to deliver them. He was a cutie. And no wedding ring. I checked when he took his gloves off. Shameless, aren’t I?”

  Seizing the opportunity to keep Bailey in one safe space for a few moments, Spencer pulled the ring of keys from her hand. “Let me go in and check your place out first, while you two catch up.” He spared one more look for Corie. “Keep your apartment locked in the future. And don’t open the door unless you know who’s on the other side.”

  “Yes, Officer.” Corie giggled nervously at the practical advice. Then the tenor of her voice changed. “Are you sure everything’s all right?”

  “Detective Montgomery worked the Rose Red Rapist case,” Bailey explained, keeping her far-too-personal familiarity with the investigation out of the conversation. “He’s a stickler for personal safety.”

  “Did you know that guy’s trial starts Monday? I saw a preliminary report on the news tonight. Vanessa Owen said she’s got the inside...”

  Spencer pushed open the door and the conversation faded. Well, Corie’s monologue faded. He shook his head as the door closed behind him. Bailey definitely didn’t seem too young, anymore.

  But that still didn’t make her the right woman for him.

  After setting Bailey’s keys on the table beside the front door, Spencer swept his gaze around the remodeled apartment’s open floor plan, taking note of the formal dining room with a dark red poinsettia centerpiece, and the galley-style kitchen with a trio of carved wooden Santas sitting on the counter. Breathing in the fresh scent of pine, he moved into the living area. A Christmas tree, standing taller than him and four times as wide, stood in front of the two main windows. Although the lights weren’t turned on, he counted several rows of clear bulbs and gold ribbon circling the pine branches. There was a white angel at the top and a dozen wrapped presents on the floor below.

  “How’d you get that in here, woman?” he muttered, half admiring her determination to celebrate the season, despite all that had happened, and half worried about what kind of help she’d recruited to bring that behemoth up to the second floor.

  Hopefully, she’d asked a close friend. Or someone who worked for her father. Not a stranger she’d paid and invited into her home. “Where you could plant a bug or camera, get the lay of the place, or gerry-rig one of the locks so you can come back later.”

  The possibilities of how easily an unseen threat could infiltrate Bailey’s world got Spencer moving. He checked the locks on the windows behind the tree. The snow was undisturbed and drifting on the fire escape outside. Spencer verified that the fire escape ladder was up and locked into place and that the outside stairs only went to the floor above hers. An intruder would have to rappel if he wanted to get in from the roof.

  The bathroom was tiny and windowless, and could make a passable safe room if she could find something to reinforce the flimsy lock. He checked the walk-in closet in her bedroom, glanced underneath the dust ruffle on the white mission-style bed and moved the blinds aside to secure the lock on the window there.

  Spencer came out of Bailey’s bedroom to find her draping her coat over the back of a chair and pulling a stool up to the kitchen’s long, granite-top island. “Do I pass inspection?”

  He glanced over at the dead bolt to make sure she’d locked it behind her. “A little heavy-handed with the holiday decor, but I like the steel-framed windows and that you have curtains or blinds covering all of them. No one can sneak a photograph of you here. And they’re all secure. No signs of unwanted entry or that anyone’s been peeking in.”

  “That’s good.” She set the earmuffs beside her purse and fluffed her sunny hair into a tousled disarray. “Not into Christmas?”

  He shrugged, crossing through the apartment to join her. “Don’t have the time for it.”

  “That’s sad. Do you have parents or someone special you’re at least going to spend the day with?” She sat on the stool to unzip her boots and pull them off.

  “Now you’re sounding like your friend Corie.” When she bent over, Spencer reached out to smooth down a spike of golden hair, but drew his fingers back when she straightened. “No parents. No siblings. No...” An image of Ellen stepping out of the shower and shaking her long wet hair down her back tried to surface, but he quickly slammed the door on that memory. “No one special.”

  He turned to the counter and gripped the edge of the cold granite, willing the emotions that stirred up around Bailey Austin to settle back into place.

  “I hit that same nerve again, didn’t I.” Her hand slid across the counter toward his. The muscles beneath his skin pulsed when her fingers brushed across his knuckles. When he fisted his hand, she pulled away. “Sorry.”

  She jumped down from her stool so abruptly that Spencer knew he’d hurt her feelings. While she set her boots on the tile by the front door, Spencer inhaled a cleansing breath. She couldn’t get to him. He wouldn’t let her. But he needed to make sure she wasn’t so upset or ticked off at him that she’d get distracted from the things she needed to do to stay safe.

  “I am invited to my partner Nick’s house for Christmas dinner. They’re a big family and they always make room for one more. I complimented his grandma Connie’s cherry pie one time, and I’ve been an adopted son ever since.”

  Continuing the conversation was enough of an olive branch for her to come back to the counter, although he could see her purposely keeping some distance between them. “The cherry pie got through the infamous Montgomery armor, hmm?”

  That armor didn’t seem to be so tough today. And he placed the blame directly on those shadowed blue eyes and determined chin. “I’ve been known to indulge in a homemade dessert on occasion.”

  “You’re lucky to have friends like that.” Bailey pulled a pair of scissors from a jar on the counter and sat to open her package. “I apologize for Corie. I hope she didn’t make you uncomfortable. She can talk the ears off a basset hound, and she’s a little man-crazy—”

  “You think?”

  “—but she’s got a good heart.” Spencer slipped onto the stool beside her for a closer look as she sliced through the package’s sealing tape. “It’s been nice to have a friend who doesn’t walk on eggshells around me. We share normal conversations about nothing and everything.”

  “You didn’t tell her about the rape or the trial?”

  “It hasn’t come up. If she kno
ws, she hasn’t said anything. Maybe she’s worried that the topic would make me uncomfortable. A lot of people don’t mention it.”

  Spencer raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I have a feeling there’s very little that makes that woman uncomfortable.”

  Finally, the shadows receded and her lips softened with a smile. “Corie’s right about one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  She set down the scissors and lifted a red envelope and a squarish jewelry case from the box. “You can be charming when you’re not trying to be all relentless cop.”

  “Charming?” The idea of Corie Rudolf turning all that man-hungry energy on him made Spencer a little sick to his stomach. “I was going for businesslike and authoritative. Remind me to do gruff and tough next time I see her.”

  The answering laugh died in Bailey’s throat when she flipped open the jewelry case. Spencer rose to see what had changed her expression.

  It was a man’s watch. Expensive, shiny and new. And in pieces.

  She set the box down and shuffled through the paperwork again. Something was off.

  “Is that for your dad?” he asked. He hoped it was some careless shipping and handling that upset her.

  “I didn’t order a watch.” She handed him the paper, then slipped her thumb beneath the flap of the envelope to pull out a Christmas card. “It says ‘gift.’ It’s clearly addressed to me, but the sender’s name isn’t filled in. Who would give me a man’s watch? A broken one at that. Maybe the card will explain the mix-up.”

  Bailey recoiled from the holiday card, and Spencer was behind her shoulder in an instant to read the message scrawled inside.

  You’d better watch out

  You’d better not cry wolf...

  Or you’ll be in pieces.

  “Set the card down. Don’t touch anything else.” Spencer punched his partner’s number on his cell.

  She set the card on the counter as if it might detonate in her hand and stood. “This scares me.”