Bodyguard

by Suzanne Brockmann

  It hit her in a flash, and Allie stood up. “Enrique. Enrique something.”

  “Who?”

  She pointed to the wanted posters, to the face of the Hispanic man. “That’s where I’ve seen him before.” Add a pencil-thin mustache, grow his hair to chin length. Yes. Yes, definitely. “In Michael Trotta’s office. As I was leaving, he was trying to get away. He was handcuffed and bleeding. I think he’d been shot as well as beaten. His face was …” She shook her head. “He got blood on my blouse and pants. He told me his name was Enrique something. Montone? Montoy?”

  Harry crossed to the wall, to the posters that overlapped each other there. “Enrique Montoya?” He took the flyer from the wall and handed it to Allie. “Are you telling me that Enrique Montoya was in Michael Trotta’s office while you were there?”

  Allie nodded, quickly skimming the printing on the flyer. One-hundred-thousand-dollar reward leading to the arrest and conviction of the person or persons responsible for the death of FBI Agent Enrique Montoya. Montoya disappeared mid-March in Florida and turned up dead several weeks later in New York. Autopsy reports place his date of death on …

  She looked up at Harry. “He died the same day I was in Michael’s office.”

  He was already on the phone. “I need Christine McFall. Yeah, hi, Chris. It’s Harry O’Dell. Yeah, I’m still kicking.” He paused. “No, please don’t call me sir. Okay, fine, call me sir, but just answer this question for me, all right?” Another pause. “I need to know about Alessandra Lamont’s personal possessions. Was anything left in the Farmingdale house after the fire? Any clothes in the closets that might’ve retained pieces of explosive material and been saved for evidence?” He nodded. “I’m looking for a pair of pants and a blouse that have bloodstains and …” He looked at Allie. “What color?”

  “No,” she said, suddenly understanding why he was asking. “They weren’t in the house. I had so few clothes I couldn’t just throw them out, so I took them to the dry cleaners. Although the woman there told me she wouldn’t be able to get the stains completely out. It’s been weeks, but they’re probably still there.”

  “Which dry cleaners?”

  “Huff’s. On Main Street, near the old movie theater?”

  “Chris,” Harry said into the phone. “Go to Huff’s on Main Street in Farmingdale, and pick up Alessandra Lamont’s dry cleaning order—a blouse and a pair of ladies’ pants. Bag it as evidence and take it to the lab. Have them run DNA tests on whatever bloodstains you can find. We’re pretty sure the blood’s Enrique Montoya’s. Yeah, you heard me. Montoya’s. Let me know what you find.” He hung up the phone and turned to Allie. “With that evidence and your testimony, we’ve finally got Trotta.”

  George threw the file down on Nicole’s desk. “Kim Monahan. Drop the conspiracy charges against her. Now.”

  She looked up at him coolly. “Give me one good reason why I should.”

  “Because I’m asking you to.”

  “Well, well. This girl actually matters to you.”

  “Just do it, Nicki. If you don’t, I’ll never let you live down the Alessandra Lamont snafu.”

  Nicole only managed to look bored. “It wasn’t my fault. Andrew Bell in the Washington office thought we’d benefit from the publicity of getting Trotta on a murder charge. Of course, he claims he made the decision to withhold protection based on the fact that Lamont had refused protection in the past.”

  “It was a setup. We leaked information because we believed a task force would be in place to intercept the hit attempt. You should have followed up on the case, and you know it. You’re damned lucky Alessandra and Harry O’Dell weren’t killed. And you’re lucky, too, that Harry’s leaving the FBI. If he came back here, he’d have every right to kick your ass across the street and back—in front of everyone in this office.”

  She finally had the decency to look embarrassed. “Yes, well, I certainly am lucky, aren’t I? I tell that to myself all the time.”

  She sounded bitter. But George didn’t care. Whatever she regretted about her life—including losing him—she’d done to herself. He adjusted his crutches and turned to go.

  “George.”

  He turned back.

  “Consider the charges against Kim dropped,” Nicki said quietly. “You can bring her out from wherever you’ve been hiding her.”

  He shook his head. “No, she’s gone. I … told her to leave.” And she had. Just like Nicole, Kim had given him up and left without a fight.

  “I’m sorry,” Nicki said. “I thought you and she … Well, the night that you asked me to come over—the night you told me you thought Kim was connected to Trotta … Before you told me that, I was sure you were going to say you were getting married again. You know, you and Kim. I mean, you both just seemed so happy together.”

  “Trotta was paying her to be there with me. I pretty much suspected that from the start. It was all just an act.” Yeah, and maybe if he said it enough, he’d start to believe it, too.

  “But you seemed—”

  “Happy?” George snorted. “Come on, Nic. I was living with a gorgeous woman who would go down on me at the drop of a hat, and someone else was footing the bill. Why shouldn’t I seem happy?”

  “I think you were hoping she wouldn’t pass that information to Trotta.”

  She was dead right. He’d prayed that when it came down to it, Kim wouldn’t betray him. But instead of confronting her about her connection to Trotta, he’d tested her. He’d waited until he heard her come in, and then he’d pretended to be on the phone with Nicole, letting Kim overhear information they’d wanted leaked to Trotta. And sure enough, she’d gone right out and passed on the information. They had tape recordings of her phone conversation with one of Trotta’s assistants.

  He had hoped Kim would come to him. He had thought that she loved him. But he’d never admit that. Especially not to Nicole.

  “I think this girl managed to hurt you,” Nicole told him. Her eyes looked so sad, as if she honestly cared. Must’ve been just a trick of the lighting. “Is it possible you have a heart after all?”

  “Who, me?” George asked. He started out of the office. “Not a chance. You and me both, babe. Totally heartless.”

  Harry was still on the phone when Allie got out of the shower.

  It was a weird déjà vu—someone had left pajamas for her on the bed, just like the first time. She put them on and went out into the living room, drying her hair with a towel.

  “No,” Harry was saying, “Shaun, it’s not your fault. You had no idea that filing that petition would—” He paused. “Yeah, I know it sucks, and I’m sorry you’ll have to leave your friends. But maybe we can all sit down together and figure out where we want to live and—” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, Marge, too. Okay. Okay, yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hung up the phone with a sigh. “Shaun’s pissed. He doesn’t want to start over in a new town.”

  “I’m having trouble with that, too.”

  “I’m sorry,” Harry said.

  “That’s not your fault.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I’m still sorry. George called. He’s sorry, too.”

  “How is he?” she asked, glancing at herself in the mirror. Her hair was growing out. She was actually starting to look human. And that meant it was time to get another cut. Maybe a shag this time. She’d looked terrible that time she’d gotten her hair cut in a shag when she was little.

  “His leg’s much better. I told him that was good because I was going to come out there and break his other one. He seemed to think that would be okay.”

  She looked up at him. “You’re not really going to New York …?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “No, I was just, you know, getting on his case. Letting him know that I forgave him.”

  “By telling him you were going to break his leg?”

  “He was really upset. I was afraid if we got too touchy-feely he might start to cry. Or maybe I might start to cry.” He just stood the
re, gazing at her for several long moments. He smiled crookedly. “Of course, I might start to cry anyway. I’m still amazed that we really made it.”

  “I’m not. I didn’t doubt it for a minute.” Allie thought for a second, reconsidering, remembering the fear she’d felt in the cold river, knowing Harry wasn’t a strong swimmer. “Well, except maybe when we first hit the water.”

  Harry cleared his throat and turned away slightly. “You know, Al, I just want you to know, I won’t hold you to that promise you made me on that ledge. I mean, I seriously thought we were going to die, and it was just this kind of fantasy thing, you know?”

  It took Allie a moment to realize that he was talking about his marriage proposal. “Oh,” she said. “No. I meant it when I said I wanted to marry you.” Realization dawned. “Oh, but if you didn’t mean it …” She took a deep breath. “I can’t have babies, remember, so if you wanted—”

  “No,” Harry said. “Jesus. That wasn’t what I meant at all. I’m—I’m dying to marry you, but my life is pretty much a wreck. I’m unemployed as of about an hour ago, and my home life’s a circus. One kid hates me, the other doesn’t recognize me on the street.”

  “Shaun doesn’t hate you.”

  “He’s not happy about leaving Hardy. He was counting on getting into that dance troupe and—” He shook his head interrupting himself. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m not exactly any kind of prize.”

  “I’m not a prize, either,” Allie told him. “And good thing. I’ve done that before—been someone’s prize. It wasn’t any fun.” She crossed to the self-service bar and opened a bottle of seltzer. “As far as the baby thing goes, you know I’ve always hoped that someday I could adopt …”

  “Hey, that’s perfect, because my kids seem to want to be adopted.”

  “I meant, a baby.”

  “I know, I was just making a bad joke.”

  “I can’t joke about this, Harry. Maybe I’m hypersensitive because of what happened with Griffin, but I couldn’t stand it if something like that happened again.”

  “Allie.”

  She turned to find he hadn’t moved. He was standing there, by the phone, in his soggy jeans and almost-dry T-shirt, with his hair a mess and his heart and soul there for her to see in his beautiful dark brown eyes.

  “I want you to marry me because I love you,” he said, “not because I’m looking for some kind of baby-making machine. I want you to be my lover and my friend, not some trophy on the shelf, and I desperately want you to help me with this mess I’m in with my kids. I want them to be our kids. And if you decide you want a baby in a year or five or ten, I will help you adopt one, and I will love him or her as much as I love Shaun and Emily.” He smiled. “And, for the record, I personally am truly looking forward to never having to use birth control ever again, for the rest of our very, very long lives.”

  Allie waited to see if he was finished.

  He wasn’t. “It’s going to be hard work. I don’t want to gloss that over. I’m not easy to live with. And I know that right now Shaun’s not easy to live with and—”

  “You sound as if you’re trying to talk me out of it,” Allie said.

  He was silent for a moment, and when he looked up at her, he didn’t try to hide the uncertainty in his eyes. “I’m scared I’m going to let you down.”

  She held her hand out to him. “You already jumped off one cliff with me today. Come on, Harry. Let’s go two for two.”

  Harry laughed.

  And took her hand.

  And kissed her.

  Free fall had never felt so good.

  Epilogue

  SHAUN LOOKED FOR Harry and Allie in the crowd backstage, after the performance.

  He couldn’t see Harry, but across the room he could see eight-year-old Emily, who was still small enough to ride on their father’s shoulders. She waved to him, giving him a double thumbs-up.

  He’d danced particularly well tonight.

  Maybe it was knowing his family was in the audience. Or maybe it was something about being back in Hardy for the first time in more than four years.

  He’d always wanted to dance on the big college stage, now he finally had.

  He hadn’t seen much of the town when the Tap Masters tour bus pulled in late last night. And he’d spent most of today in rehearsal. It was good—they’d worked out some kinks in the opening number. But he’d wanted to walk past the old house, maybe go down to the basketball courts …

  “Shaun Novick?”

  He turned around.

  “Oh my God, it is you.”

  The young woman standing behind him was nearly as tall as his own six feet three inches. She had long, thick brown hair that cascaded around her shoulders, a body like a goddess, and the most incredibly beautiful eyes he’d ever seen in his eighteen years of life.

  “O’Dell,” he said. “My name’s O’Dell.”

  “But it was Novick, wasn’t it? There couldn’t be two Shauns who look just like you, who dance just like you …” She smiled, and his mouth went dry. She had the most amazing smile. “You got contact lenses. I did, too.”

  He looked into her eyes. Looked closer and … “Mindy?”

  “I got your letter,” she told him. “I would’ve written back, but you didn’t give me your new address.”

  “I couldn’t,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know. You explained about that man who was after your father and … I just … wished I could’ve written back, that’s all.” She gave him a searching look. “Am I blowing your cover by recognizing you here today?”

  Shaun smiled. “Michael Trotta, the mob guy, was killed about three months after he went to prison. We’ve pretty much used our real names since then.” He paused. “How about you? What are you doing here? Do you still live in Hardy?”

  “Yeah. I’m home for Christmas break—at least I was. I’ve got to catch a flight back to school in about two hours. I got a scholarship to UCLA.” She gave him another of those amazing smiles. “I’m on the women’s basketball team.”

  “That’s so great.” He couldn’t stop smiling at her. “Only two hours, huh? Too bad.”

  “Actually, my mom’s in the parking lot getting the car. I’ve got to go.” She held out her hand. “I’m so glad I got a chance to see you. It was a great show.”

  There was no way in hell he was only going to shake her hand. He pulled her into his arms.

  It was the right thing to do—she hugged him just as tightly, and when she pulled back, she was laughing. “God, I had such a crush on you in eighth grade. I would’ve died and gone to heaven if you’d ever hugged me like that then.”

  “I was awful to you. I can’t believe you don’t hate me.”

  She touched his face. “I forgave you. Remember?”

  He didn’t want to let go of her. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Did you work things out with your dad?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, we’re cool. Harry’s doing great—he’s here today. So are Allie and Emily and Sam, my brand-new brother. Harry and Allie just adopted a baby.”

  “Allie?”

  “My stepmom. You met her—she used to work for your mother, cleaning houses.”

  Mindy nodded. “Okay, right.”

  “She’s a writer now. Her second book’s out in June. This one’s going to be big. I can feel it, you know?”

  “So Allie married your dad? That’s great.”

  “Four years ago,” he told her. “Right after we left town. She’s incredible. I’m crazy about her. Sometimes I wish Harry hadn’t married her so that I could.”

  “Hmmm,” Mindy said, narrowing her eyes as she looked at him. “Does that mean you’re still not gay?”

  Shaun had to laugh. He gave her a very pointed once-over. “What do you think?”

  Her cheeks were pink, but she took his left hand and wrote her phone number on his palm. “I think I’d love to see you again. Call me if you’re ever in L.A.?”

  “I
will definitely be in L.A., I will definitely call you, and I’m definitely still not gay.”

  “And I definitely still have a crush on you.” She gave him another of her million-dollar smiles as she disappeared into the crowd.

  Shaun watched her until she reached the doors. She turned and waved. Hot damn. Mindy MacGregor.

  “Did you get her number?” Harry asked from behind him.

  Shaun held up his left hand.

  Harry high-fived him. “You were so good.” He pulled Shaun in for a hug. “I am so proud of you.” He stepped back and looked up at him. “Does that happen often? Women chasing you down and writing their phone numbers on your various body parts?”

  Shaun laughed as he lifted Emily into his arms for a hug. “I usually don’t let them write on me.”

  “This one was different, huh?”

  “Harry,” Allie said, shifting Sam to her other shoulder. “Didn’t you recognize her? That was Mindy MacGregor.”

  Harry looked from Allie to Shaun. “That was your friend Mindy, with the glasses?”

  “I remember Mindy,” Em said. “She always smelled so good.”

  “Yeah, she still smells good,” Shaun told his sister.

  “Is she still playing basketball?” Allie asked.

  “UCLA.”

  “Go Mindy. I always knew she’d grow out of her awkward phase.” Allie turned to Harry. “You never really knew her, but she was a kid who refused to quit. She was the world’s worst basketball player, but she practiced hard and never gave up hope.” She kissed Shaun on the cheek. “Call her right away and ask her to marry you.”

  Shaun laughed. “Yes, Mother.”

  Harry had put his arm around Allie. Even after four years, he couldn’t stand next to her without touching her. They made being in love look really, really good.

  “Thanks for coming,” Shaun told them. “I know it wasn’t easy to get here with the baby and Harry’s crazy schedule.”

  Harry’s security consulting business was finally taking off.