Chardy Walker Lieb

by The Saint

  Jake shrugged. "What's to get? Fresh fruit, a little lettuce, a few carrots."

  "This from a man who used to consider chili dogs a food group?" She stared wide-eyed.

  Jake stroked his chin and smiled, remembering all the greasy burgers, the rich chocolate milk shakes, the laughs. "I did, didn't I?"

  This time Courtney grinned, too, bursting the tension of her lunch-hour meeting in O’Shea’s office like an overstuffed piñata.

  As she unpacked the bag, Jake cleared his throat and started for the door. "Well, I'll get out of here, so you can eat."

  "Wait." Courtney blurted out the word before she had time to think. She saw Jake stop expectantly, looking oh-so-handsome. Tall and confident. With just a sprinkling of arrogance. Not enough to turn her off. Just the right amount to make him ever so appealing. A warm, all-too-familiar sensation stirred deep inside her until the vivid memory of O’Shea's warning drowned it out.

  Courtney, you cannot socialize with these people. It can never get personal. Never!

  Jake sensed Courtney's hesitancy. "What is it?"

  Courtney mentally shook herself for wavering slightly and wishing, just for the moment and for oh-so-many reasons, that things could be different. But they weren't different. If anything, they were far more complicated than they had ever been.

  She retrieved the cash register ticket from the empty sack, then grabbed her billfold. Quickly counting out the exact amount–down to the penny–she offered Jake the money. "I forgot to pay you for lunch."

  Jake didn't miss the fact that Courtney's dazzling smile stopped just short of her eyes. Whatever had been on her mind, she had dismissed it and changed tacks all together.

  "Forget it." Jake folded the money back into Courtney's palm. Her slim, competent fingers felt even softer than he remembered. He hesitated a beat, holding her hand in his a little longer than necessary before letting go. "Lunch is on me."

  Courtney watched him leave, knowing under the circumstances it was for the best, yet finding little comfort in the fact. She surprised herself by eating everything he'd brought and spent the remainder of the afternoon working.

  The hot key program she developed enabled her to conduct her search without being detected. If anyone walked in, one key strike immediately switched her screen to a different one–a screen that would pass, without suspicion. She had to admit this little brainstorm was designed to fool anyone, even Leonard Wallis.

  Later that afternoon when Jake opened the door and stuck his head in, Courtney could hardly believe it was five o'clock.

  "Are you about ready?" Remembering the heaps and piles that covered his desk at the precinct, Jake was amazed at the perfectly organized workspace she occupied. Papers neatly stacked. Pencils sharpened. Diskettes encased.

  She checked the screen once before answering, "No, I'm not leaving yet. I'm going to stay and finish this." A weary smile was all she had to offer. "Don't worry. I can find my way out."

  So she wasn't rushing home to call old Barney, after all, Jake mused. "I'll wait," was all he said, before stepping back and closing the door between them.

  And wait he did. Despite the fact that in some respects Jake was not a patient man. He refused to wait to be seated at a restaurant. Never took a number for anything. And would rather leave his merchandise than stand in a check out line behind more than two people.

  But, under the right circumstances, like a stake out, Jake had the unqualified patience of a saint. He could sit for hours in a parked car–watching. Spend night after night in an abandoned building–waiting. Perch, undetected, on a tree limb–listening. Just to make an arrest.

  Tonight, however, Jake couldn't shake that instinctive, hinky feeling he usually experienced right before all hell broke loose. He supposed living undercover for six months might account for his edginess, but something told him it was more than that. His thoughts turned to Courtney. Prior to today, he hadn't worked with anyone since his partner, Juan Rivera, had been killed. Hadn't wanted to. Correction–refused to.

  He paced the outer office until even mild-mannered Sandy, who rarely left before six, gave up and went home. After that, he repaired a leak in the water cooler and shot paper wads at the wastebasket until the surrounding carpet looked like a ballroom floor on New Year's Day.

  By seven-thirty Jake's internal radar was humming like a tuning fork. Something was out of sync. He might not be able to put his finger on it, but he could feel it just the same. So, like it or not, Courtney was going home. Now.

  Knocking first, he stepped into her assigned office. "Call it a day, Sweetness." It was a statement, not a question. Without looking up, Courtney hit one final key before commenting, "I can't believe you're still here." She rolled her shoulders to work out the kinks as she met his gaze. "Goes with the territory." Jake thought she looked tired and could have kicked his own butt for not insisting she leave sooner. "Can I help you with anything?" "Nope." She flipped off the computer before grabbing her purse and standing. "But thanks anyway." If the circumstances had been different–if Jake had been different–his familiar smile might have warmed her heart at the end of such a long day. But they weren't. He wasn't.

  Six years had passed, but nothing had changed. Courtney and Jake were still on opposite sides of the track. So, rather than sharing her burden with the tall, dark and definitely charming man who stood waiting for her, Courtney would continue on alone. For her father. For Brian. Maybe even for her own pride.

  But certainly not for Jake. Not that he hadn't gone out of his way to be accommodating today, because he had. Or, had he? Probably not, she admitted. She'd bet Jake hadn't done any more or less for her than Dirk had instructed. Guard the help. Feed the help. Chauffeur the help.

  Of course. Jake's attentiveness had been his job.

  Nothing more.

  Hadn't he just told her that it goes with the territory?

  Nothing more.

  Consequently, that tiny spark she'd felt flicker, then extinguish, probably resulted from the twigs and berries he'd disguised as lunch.

  Nothing more.

  Thank God, her logic and perspective returned in tandem, Courtney thought, walking past him without a word.

  Jake closed the door behind them. With one day under her belt, Courtney had held up better than he had expected. She had definitely grown up in the past six years, and the woman she'd become was damned impressive, to say the least.

  Normally talkative and outgoing, her pensive mood this evening didn't concern him. In fact, under the circumstances, he'd have been more worried if she'd been anything less than introspective. As far as he could tell, without being able to discuss the case with her, everything, Courtney included, was proceeding as it should.

  Jake watched Courtney walk off without as much as glancing back to see if he was coming. He got her drift, all right. She was defining her boundaries. And his. Unfortunately for Courtney, her point was moot, because whether she realized it or not, for the time being, she was stuck with him.

  The same went for Jake. Only difference was, unlike Courtney, he knew the score. Regardless of the hell he had raised with O’Shea, he was figuratively handcuffed to Mrs. Montgomery for the duration of this investigation. Of course, from his vantage point–about three paces behind one of the sexiest derrieres he had ever seen–he'd sure as hell had tougher assignments. If only he could lose the feeling of urgency dogging him tonight.

  Courtney sensed Jake lagging behind as they made their way down the dimly lit hallway. More than anxious to leave, she hadn't realized, until now, what a relief it would be to go home. She needed to talk to Janey. And her mom. Know they were safe. Until she could do that, this day was simply destined to be uncomfortable to the bitter end. When she pushed through the final set of glass doors only to have Eddie stopped her on the way out, she was certain of it.

  "Not again." The whine in her voice even made Courtney cringe. If there was one thing she despised, it was a woman using that tone to get her way. "Sorry, but it's be
en a long day."

  "I hear ya, Mrs. Montgomery, but you know the drill."

  While Courtney emptied her purse, Jake looked around. By this time of night, the building was, for the most part, deserted. He didn't detect anything unusual, nothing suspicious. The hallway leading to the

  elevator was quiet.

  "What's shakin', Eddie?" Jake continued to scan the area as he spoke.

  "Not much."

  For the second time today, Courtney watched Eddie sift through her belongings, then hand back her purse. He checked each diskette in her case against the log he'd recorded earlier. Only this time, he actually inserted each disk into the lap top computer.

  Courtney stopped herself before the expletive on the tip of her tongue actually slipped past her lips. Watching him closely, she knew exactly what Eddie had been instructed to look for. Leonard had inserted encryptions to red flag his programs and prevent someone from copying records without being detected. Touché, Leonard, she thought. You're good, damn good. But I'm better.

  Thank God she hadn't gotten quite that far today, because Eddie's little inspection put a whole different spin on her plans. Rather than using her diskettes to get the information O’Shea needed out of the building, she'd have to think of another way. Something extremely creative. And she would, because there was nothing Courtney loved more than a challenge.

  The longer Eddie took, the edgier Jake got. Damn Templeton's security, he cursed silently. The moment Courtney had her purse and case in hand, Jake hurried her to the elevator. As they waited, he watched and listened. Nothing unusual. Everything seemed normal. Except the old familiar knot in his gut that had saved his butt more times than he could count.

  Once inside, Courtney stood without speaking, as the nondescript, piped-in music played overhead. The tune was soothing, Courtney thought with a weary sigh, perhaps an old Carpenter's song. After the ten plus hours she had just put in, a quiet melody was exactly what she needed to unwind. It might even counter the sudden, eerie silence that seemed to have settled over Jake.

  She had to admit today had certainly been more nerve racking than she'd anticipated. Being searched by Eddie. Facing Dirk Templeton. Seeing Jake again…and again. Work quickly tomorrow, she ordered silently.

  Ending her thoughts on that positive note, the moment the door whooshed opened, Courtney headed for her car. Jake, on the other hand, seemed to be preoccupied to the extent of dragging his feet. And nothing could have suited her better.

  "Wait," he called, hurrying to catch up.

  As anxious as Courtney was to leave, the urgent tone of his voice reverberated through the otherwise quiet parking deck and stopped her cold. She faced him. "What?"

  Jake waited a beat before he spoke, making certain silence surrounded them. "I'm driving you home."

  For the second time today, Courtney noted Jake had told her, not asked. As far as she was concerned, a unilateral decision–by its very nature–always provided grounds for refusal. "No, you're not."

  She adjusted the shoulder strap of her purse and pointed to the silver Porsche parked halfway across the parking deck. "I just made my first payment last month, Jake, and I'm not leaving my car in this place over night."

  "I'll have someone drive it home later."

  Courtney shook her head. "No. You won't."

  "Okay, I'll drive it home later," he corrected.

  "What part of no don't you understand?" Ignoring Jake's grim expression, she walked away.

  Jake's long strides echoed hers across the concrete floor. "Dammit, Courtney, I mean it."

  Courtney quickened her pace. Why won't he just leave me alone? Her legs shook a little more with each step. With unsteady fingers, she managed to press the button on her key ring remote and unlock the car. Jake caught up with her and grabbed her wrist as she yanked open the door. With her free hand, Courtney tossed her diskette case into the passenger's seat and turned to face Jake. The temper in her eyes loosened his grip. "I'll be ready tomorrow morning at seven forty-five sharp," she told him, pulling away. "Good night, Jake."

  "Look, I know you don't–

  Courtney had already settled behind the wheel when the gasp escaped her lips. Jake, she realized, had stopped mid-sentence and was staring down at her. With trembling hands, she peeled off the sheet of white construction paper that had been neatly taped to her dashboard. Printed in the middle–in large block letters–were the words: BANG! YOU'RE DEAD!

  CHAPTER 4

  >"Don't move!" Jake's shout echoed through the empty parking deck. His mind raced like the credits

  at the end of a movie. Idle threat? Live bomb? Motion detector? Courtney! "Don't move a muscle, until I tell you," he barked, tearing a penlight from his jacket pocket. The panic in Jake's harsh order paralyzed Courtney. For once in her life, she simply obeyed. Jake eased down to squat beside the open car door. "Sit perfectly still," he warned, shining the light

  around the interior.

  His voice had taken on a calm, lethal tone that was surprisingly soothing. "Okay," she whispered. Courtney looked straight ahead and refused to think any further than the dismal, concrete wall in front of her.

  He moved the beam of light along the floor as he asked, "Have you ever heard of a pressure release device?" Courtney started to shake her head and immediately caught herself. Instead, she breathed a quiet, "No."

  He turned his left shoulder and lowered it enough to change the angle of his body and look underneath the dash. Running the concentrated beam the width of the car, he told her, "Think of the light in your refrigerator. When you open the door, the pressure is released from the button and the light goes on."

  "My seat?" she asked, suddenly not wanting to breathe, much less complete the sentence. "Uh huh." "Wired?" she whispered. "I don't know." Satisfied, there were no stray wires visible, Jake turned his attention to the area

  beneath Courtney's seat. "That's exactly what I'm going to check now." Courtney heard the grit shift beneath Jake's shoes as he jockeyed for a better position. Without moving her head, she lowered her eyes to watch him. Nervous perspiration, barely visible in the dimly lit

  garage, had beaded across his forehead.

  "Hold…really…still," he cautioned, switching the penlight into his opposite hand and adjusting his left shoulder slightly.

  Courtney felt his warm breath on her ankle and cringed as he inched closer for a better look. Instinctively, she wanted to put her legs together, but didn't dare risk moving. Instead, she was forced to sit in her dignified business suit with Jake's face…practically between her knees.

  If they were lucky enough not to be blown to hell and back, Jake would relish the irony of his unorthodox position later. Right now, he completed the visual inspection and made his decision. Moving back, he eased out of the car and, again, kneeled beside Courtney. "I didn't see any wires, and that's the best I can do with you sitting in there. So I'm going to get you out of the car with as little movement as possible."

  Courtney closed her eyes, then opened them and nodded without speaking.

  "I need to touch your legs," he told her. "So whatever you do, don't jump."

  Courtney held her breath.

  He stood, then leaned in and squared his body to hers. Slipping his hands beneath her thighs he painstakingly pivoted her legs out of the car.

  She exhaled slowly. A trickle of sweat traced Jake's jaw line and dropped into her lap as her feet touched the cement.

  He took her small hands in his. "On three, I want you to jump as far away from the car as you possibly can."

  "My daughter." Her voice was barely a whisper. She kept her eyes riveted to his and took a deep breath. “Jake—“

  "Don't worry." Jake winked. The gentle squeeze he gave her fingers did not, in any way, reflect the clench her words had put on his heart. Nor did the promise he was about to make. "You can call her later."

  Right before the count, he did something he hadn't been sure he would ever do again. For the first time since his partner had
been murdered, Jake Ciora said a silent prayer.

  "One. Two. Three." He yanked her up hard.

  Pain shot down Courtney's arms as both shoulders snapped. The instant she cleared the seat, he spun her behind him to shield her body with his.

  Landing in a heap, they sat for a moment, relishing the sound of silence. The absence of an explosion. As much as Courtney needed the security of Jake's embrace, O’Shea's warning against personal involvement rang in her ears.

  Out of immediate danger, Jake still hesitated to release Courtney. She felt so good in his arms. Fragile, yet strong. Familiar, yet different.

  And in more trouble than she could ever imagine.

  The game had changed. Jake knew that now. Dirk, it seemed, had a new playmate, and from the look of things, the new kid didn't mind getting his hands dirty. In fact, he liked it.

  Templeton's territory had been violated, big time, and that meant someone was trying to move in on him. Whoever had thumbed his nose at Dirk tonight, definitely knew Templeton's business. His computer problem. His solution.

  Whoever this was, they knew about Courtney, all right. And didn't mind waltzing into the parking garage, undetected, to let Templeton know it. The proverbial line in the sand had been drawn, and whoever this guy was he had used Courtney to do it.

  Helping Courtney to her feet, Jake brushed off her skirt until she slapped his hands away. Glad to see the color return to her cheeks, he smiled. "Just trying to help–"

  "Yourself," Courtney finished, barely able to stand, much less tolerate his guilty grin. Her heart still hammered so hard against her ribs that it hurt. Like a passer-by gawking at a car wreck, she couldn't take her eyes off the note that lay at her feet. She reached down with trembling fingers and picked it up, trying desperately not to see Peggy Baird’s dead eyes looking back at her.

  Dirk Templeton was a nightmare. Working undercover, a bad dream. But that single sheet of paper scared her to death, because like those homicide photos, it had reality written all over it. She didn't doubt for a moment that whoever planted this hateful threat meant business. Nor did she question the extent of her own fear. Her terror went straight to the bone. To the center of her world. To Janey. Thank God for Michael’s foresight was all she could think as her hands shook uncontrollably and she handed the sheet of paper to Jake.