Red Zone

by Sherri Hayes

  “Of course,” he said. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a large manila folder filled with envelopes. “About two months ago, Daniels, our star quarterback, began receiving these. They’re all there with the exception of the first few. He just threw them away. Thought they were a joke.”

  She flipped through the pictures and letters. They were all of a young man, in his mid-twenties, whom she assumed was Daniels. He was doing various things, from something as simple as shopping to sitting in a bar. What she did notice, however, was that all the pictures included females. “He seems to be quite the ladies’ man. Could it be a woman scorned?”

  “That’s always a possibility, I suppose. Gage is . . . . . . . . . well, he’s young, not bad to look at, and he’s an athlete. The ladies like him.” He shrugged.

  “So, what would you like us to do exactly, Mr. Donovan?” she said, trying to keep the contempt out of her voice.

  Donovan stood and walked over to the large bank of windows behind him. He motioned them over and then pointed down to the field. “This is my team. I watch out for them.” It wasn’t hard to pick out Daniels from the field below. He was in full uniform with his name across his shoulder blades. It helped that the security guard was walking across the field straight toward him, too. “He doesn’t know this, and I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t want him rattled any more than he already is.” Donovan turned to face them, his expression serious. “A security guard noticed something sticking out of Gage’s car two days ago. Given the letters he’s been receiving, I called a friend in the local PD.”

  “Explosives?” Hansen asked.

  “Yes. Although I’m told it wouldn’t have done much damage had it gone off, but that’s beside the point. Someone’s decided to put a bull’s-eye on Gage’s back, and I need to stop it.” He paused before looking Rebecca in the eye. “Which is where you come in.”

  “Security footage?”

  “Checked. There’s nothing there except his vehicle. We went back a week.”

  As much as she didn’t like the situation, putting up a fight on this one when Donovan was footing the bill would be difficult. The person behind this had clearly crossed state lines—the pictures were taken in various cities—then delivered them to Daniels, either at his home or to the stadium. A couple even looked as though they’d come through the mail. That was enough to put it on the federal radar. Add in the explosives and even she could admit she was intrigued. They were his last hope before getting the FBI officially involved, and likely the press. Something like this wouldn’t stay under wraps for long.

  A minute later, there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” Donovan yelled.

  The door opened, and there stood the man she’d be spending the majority of her time with in the near future—Gage Daniels.

  Chapter 2

  When Gage saw Jack, one of the stadium’s security guards, lope across the field toward him, he knew something was up. The first thing that crossed his mind was that he’d received another letter, so being told Tim wanted to see him wasn’t a surprise. What he wasn’t expecting was to see two strangers dressed in suits sitting in Tim’s office. They both stood when he entered.

  The man was tall, looked to be in his late fifties, about six two, with sandy blond hair, greying temples, and eyes that told you he was tougher than he appeared. Looking him over, the first thing Gage thought was bodyguard. He wasn’t overly muscular, but Gage knew enough from growing up with three brothers that looks could be deceiving.

  His gaze fell on the woman. She looked to be around his age, twenty-six or twenty-seven. She was tall for a woman, five ten, maybe, with light brown hair that was pulled back into a high ponytail. He had to admit she had a nice figure, even though it was hidden under all that unattractive clothing she wore. Her eyes raked over him in appraisal, although from the look on her face, she didn’t like what she saw. That was too bad. He was rather enjoying the view. Of course, he’d enjoy it more if she’d lose the jacket and pop a few buttons open on that blouse of hers.

  Gage tried to redirect his thoughts and focus on the task at hand. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Donovan?” he asked, keeping it formal since he didn’t know who these people were.

  “Yes, I did. Come on in, and shut the door.”

  Gage did as instructed and took a step farther inside his boss’s office, trying not to feel out of place. He’d left his helmet downstairs, but he was still in full gear. If he’d known it was going to be more than just a casual meeting with Tim, he’d have swung by the locker room and cleaned up a little. As it was, he was hot, sweaty, and his practice uniform was covered in grass stains from the hours he’d already spent on the field running drills.

  “I want you to meet Rebecca Carson and Travis Hansen. I’ve known Hansen since college. He’s former FBI, and he knows his stuff. I’ve asked for their help with your situation,” Tim said.

  What?

  “Um. Sir. I don’t think that’s necessary. I mean, they’re just pictures and letters. They’re a little creepy, but I don’t see how this is a matter for the FBI, former or otherwise. I’m sure they have better things to do.” Gage’s gaze drifted back over to the woman. Was she a former FBI agent, too? She looked too young to be retired, but he’d heard his brother, Paul, talking about cops who were burnt out on the job. He had to assume the same thing could happen to FBI agents.

  Agent Rebecca Carson. He could definitely see it. She was just buttoned up enough to be a stuffy government agent.

  If her expression was anything to go by, she agreed with his assessment. He cocked his head to the side and imagined what she’d look like with her hair down. It looked long enough to brush her shoulders, maybe even a little longer.

  “That’s not your decision, Daniels,” Tim said, bringing him out of his thoughts. “At the very least, you have a stalker, and in my experience, stalkers don’t tend to go away unless they’re stopped. So this is how it’s going to work. Ms. Carson is going to act as your girlfriend for the foreseeable future.”

  Excuse me?

  “Agent,” she corrected, although he was only half-paying attention.

  “What?” Gage said, stepping forward. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m very serious. Anytime you go out to a social event or to a club, she is to be with you. This includes any events for the team, charity or otherwise. She’s trained to spot people who are acting suspicious or out of place. Plus, if this stalker decides to up the ante for any reason, she’ll be there to protect you, as well.”

  That ruffled his feathers. “I don’t need protection. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Again, that’s not your call. Now, practice is pretty much over for the day. Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and they can follow you to your house. I’m sure they’d like to take a look around, and of course, Agent Carson will need to get set up in one of your guest rooms.”

  “Wait. She’s living with me, too?” he said, his voice getting louder.

  “How else is she supposed to protect you? Besides, as your girlfriend, it makes sense.” Instead of saying anything more, Gage stood there seething until he was dismissed.

  His new bodyguards remained outside the locker room as he ducked inside to shower and change. At least none of the other guys had come in from practice yet, or they would have been grilling him on what was up. Not only had he been called to the owner’s office, but there were two individuals in suits standing outside waiting for him. What he wouldn’t have given to be back out on the field right about then.

  Showered and dressed in clean street clothes, he walked out into the hallway where they were waiting. He still couldn’t believe this. “Let’s go.” He didn’t wait to see if they were following, but by the sound of feet hitting the concrete floor behind him, he knew they were.

  His SUV was right where he’d left it. Throwing his duffle bag into the backseat, he slid behind the wheel and started the vehicle. As he pulled out of the players’ parking
lot and onto the street, he noticed a silver car following him. He sighed and concentrated on the road in front of him. How was he supposed to go out and have fun with someone like her on his arm? No one in their right mind would believe she was his girlfriend. He’d be lucky if anyone believed he had a girlfriend period.

  A plan began forming in his head. If she was going to be his girlfriend for the foreseeable future, then some things were going to have to change. The first was her wardrobe. Fishing his cell from his pants pocket, he dialed his stylist. “What are you doing this evening, Charlie?”

  Hansen drove, keeping pace with Daniels and trying to keep the smirk off his face.

  “There is absolutely nothing amusing about this situation, Hansen.”

  With that, he let the laugh he’d been holding in burst out. “Oh, I beg to differ. You pretending to be Mister Star Quarterback’s girlfriend is pretty funny. Do you even know who he is?”

  “He’s a football player. What more is there to know?”

  “Oh, man,” he said, continuing to laugh. “This is going to be interesting.”

  Daniels pulled up in front of a gate and stopped, causing their conversation to come to an end. She could see a large house beyond and assumed this was his home. The gate was smart given someone was after him. Hopefully, he had security cameras installed as well. The cameras at the stadium were helpful, but they wouldn’t negate her always having to check under his vehicle before he got into it. The challenge was going to be doing so without his knowledge, since Donovan wanted to keep Daniels from knowing about the explosives. She didn’t agree with keeping something like that from the football player, but for the moment, she’d let Donovan call the shots.

  They followed Daniels through the gate and up the curved driveway to his garage, where he parked the Explorer beside a vintage Mustang. He got out, not acknowledging them at all, before disappearing into the house. The only concession he made to their presence was to leave the garage door open.

  Hansen’s chest was still rumbling with laughter when they both stepped out of their vehicle and followed him inside. “Keep it up, Hansen, and I’ll make sure your wife knows you’ve been cheating on your diet, because we both know you have.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  She turned and gave him a big smile. “Try me.” He sobered immediately, and she enjoyed her little victory before she walked through the slightly open door into the residence.

  The place was even nicer on the inside. They were currently in the mudroom, and even that had granite countertops and marble floors. It was fancier than her kitchen, so she could only imagine what his kitchen was going to look like.

  They followed the sound of movement down the hall to where it opened up into a large room that included the kitchen, an eating area, and what looked to be a living room. One could never tell in these big houses, though. They tended to have multiple rooms for very specific things. She didn’t see a television anywhere in sight, so she imagined there had to be at least one other room for that.

  Daniels ignored them, exaggerating every move as he pulled things out of the refrigerator and dumped them in a blender. His back was to them, but he had to know they were there by how immature he was acting. She decided it was time to be a professional, suck it up, and do her job, even if this was one of the least desirable things she’d done since joining the FBI. “If you’ll tell me what room you’d like me in, I can bring my things inside and get settled before we talk.”

  “There’s a guest room down the hall,” he said, pointing to a hallway that ran behind the kitchen. “That’s as good a place as any.”

  “And where do you sleep?”

  “Upstairs,” he said with a short, clipped tone.

  “And are there any other rooms upstairs?”

  He stopped and turned to face them. “Why?”

  Before she could answer, her partner jumped in. “If Agent Carson is going to effectively protect you, she needs to be close. You being upstairs while she’s downstairs isn’t the ideal situation. If you have a bedroom upstairs, that would be preferable.” Maybe he sensed she was about to lose her professional cool. This was a crap job, and Mister Football Player wasn’t making things any easier. Couldn’t he just work with them?

  “Fine,” he said, turning back to whatever he was doing. “Take any room but the last one on the left.” With that, he turned on the blender effectively ending the conversation. This is going to be fun, she thought.

  Hansen helped her carry her bags upstairs. Thankfully, they hadn’t dropped them off at the hotel earlier. The last room on the left was clearly the master suite and his, so she chose the one directly across from it. The walls were a soft baby blue that matched the bedspread. It wasn’t as frilly as the hotel room, but it still had that air of money about it, including an en suite bathroom that had a large shower and a soaker tub. As much as she hated to admit it, she liked it.

  Since she’d only brought a week’s worth of clothing with her, it didn’t take her long to unpack. They were on their way downstairs within twenty minutes. As they reached the bottom of the staircase, they heard voices. Each glanced at the other before reaching for their guns and edging down the last remaining steps.

  Rounding the corner, they saw a man talking with Daniels. He appeared to be about her height, wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up fashionably and neatly pressed pants. He didn’t look threatening, so they both holstered their guns and stepped into the room.

  Before they made it more than a few feet, the new arrival noticed their entrance and was quickly racing toward them. Correction. He was racing toward her.

  “Oh! This must be her,” he gushed. “I see what you mean. I can definitely help.” Before she knew what was going on, he was reaching for her suit jacket, trying to remove it.

  She reacted instinctively before thinking it through. Within seconds, the man was bent over the kitchen island with his arm pulled tight and high along his back.

  “What in the world are you doing?” Daniels demanded.

  “What was he doing?”

  “Jeez, lady. Relax. This is Charlie, my stylist.”

  Glancing down at what she then realized were his designer clothes, Rebecca conceded she might have overreacted a bit. She wasn’t used to people grabbing at her and trying to remove her clothes like that. She stepped back, releasing him. “Sorry,” she said. “Just please don’t try to remove my clothing without asking first.”

  “Got it. No problem,” he said, glancing between her and Daniels.

  Hansen recovered faster than the rest of them. “What’s he doing here?” he asked, nodding at Charlie.

  “My girlfriend is going to need some new clothing if she’s going to be out in public with me. Outfits like that,” he pointed at the suit she was wearing, “won’t do.”

  “And what exactly is wrong with my clothing?”

  “Honey,” he said, walking up, getting way too close for her comfort. “The places I go? You’ll stick out like a sore thumb in an outfit like that.” Then he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Or do you want everyone to know you’re my bodyguard?”

  Travis Hansen hadn’t had this much fun in a while. He and his former partner were used to investigating kidnappings of minors, before he retired. It was serious business and wasn’t a place where he found himself trying to control his laughter, which was what was happening. There were definite perks to his new line of employment. He was sure, however, that Carson wouldn’t see it that way.

  His ex-partner was as straitlaced as they came. She was hard working and one of the best agents he’d ever worked with. Being sidelined had to be killing her. She was the type when something knocked her down, she found a way to get up again. It was why he’d thought she’d be perfect for this job. That was the main reason why he was trying not to laugh while she stood there like a statue as Charlie circled around her over and over again, taking measurements and holding up clothing. He knew her well enough to know she hated every minute of it.
He also thought this would do her a lot of good, in more ways than one.

  Daniels stood leaning against the wall on the other side of the room. His arms were crossed in a relaxed pose, and if not for the smirk on his face, Travis would have thought Daniels couldn’t care less about the goings on before him. There was little doubt Daniels was enjoying every minute of Carson’s discomfort. The more Travis watched him, the more he had difficulty controlling his own amusement. The man was cocky and confident. He and Carson should mix like oil and water. Should be interesting, Travis thought.

  “Here,” Charlie said, handing her several outfits.

  She looked down at them with distaste. “What exactly do you want me to do with them?” she asked.

  “Try them on, of course,” Charlie said, as if it should have been obvious.

  Carson glanced up at him, then Daniels, as if seeking help. When she received none, she took the clothes from Charlie and marched into the bathroom. She had to pass Daniels on the way and looked as if she were ready to do bodily harm to the man she’d been hired to protect. Oh yes, this was going to be quite entertaining.

  Chapter 3

  Rebecca woke up at five thirty the next morning. It was still dark outside, and the house was quiet. She took a deep, calming breath before getting out of bed and walking into her bathroom. The harsh light above the sink did nothing to help her mood. Until last month, she’d spent more time in motel rooms than she had in her own home, but she’d never missed her condo more than she did at that moment.

  The previous night had been a nightmare. After trying on outfits she’d never pick out for herself, some of which were far too revealing for her taste, Charlie had left with a promise to be back in a couple of days with her new wardrobe. She had never felt so humiliated in her life as she’d stood there like an object while he measured and positioned her to see if an item would look good with her skin tone or hair color or whatever. It was embarrassing and belittling, and she’d hated every minute of it.