Trusting the Bodyguard

by Kimberly Van Meter

  Archer patted Jenna on her curly dark head and handed her the plastic hot dog—the one toy Marissa had managed to grab before they bolted from the house—to play with, and then rolled to his haunches, all playfulness gone. She shivered at his ability to turn off and on. “I called Rico this morning. The problem is that we’re not involved in an official investigation. The channels normally available to us are closed. We’re sneaking around, hacking into secured networks, looking for ways to bring this dirtbag down, but in the meantime Rico is also looking for your friend.”

  Marissa swallowed. “Looking? As in you can’t find her?”

  Archer looked grim and the bottom of Marissa’s world dropped out. “She’s not at home?” she asked, desperate thoughts fuzzing rationality and all sense of self-preservation. “We have to go to the city. I know where she hangs out, where her mother lives…I could maybe—”

  “I can’t let you do that,” Archer said. “It’s not safe.”

  “I don’t care. Layla didn’t ask for this. She’s an innocent person who got sucked into this mess by a careless phone call I made. We have to help her.”

  “And we will but I’m not about to let you walk back into that viper’s nest and get yourself killed…or worse.”

  “He won’t hurt me.” Much. He doesn’t like his girls to have marks. She couldn’t hold back the shudder. Once, with his hands tucked into leather gloves he’d punched Mercedes in the stomach when she was pregnant. It hadn’t left a mark, nor had it caused her to abort—much to his disappointment.

  “You don’t know what he’ll do,” Archer countered, a glitter in his eyes that she knew wasn’t meant for her. “And I’m not about to take that chance. Besides, you have to stop and think what that will mean for Jenna. She needs you more than Layla right now.”

  She couldn’t argue that. Defeat made her slump in the chair nearest her but fear quickened her heart for Layla’s safety.

  “Rico is looking for her. I trust him. I need you to trust me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t—” She stopped, tears filling her eyes. She wiped them away, angry with herself for being so close to crying all the time. “I just want my life back and the harder I hope and pray, the more it seems things will never be the same. If Layla…”

  “Don’t play the what-if game,” he warned, his voice suddenly hard. She sat a little straighter, watching him for clues as to what was going through his head. “You deal in facts. The facts are these—Layla is not where she should be. She could be with Ruben. She could be taking a personal day, spending it at the mall. There’s no sense in playing what-if when we don’t know all the facts. Period.”

  She jerked a short nod. There was logic in that. Layla had been talking about taking a personal day now that the first phase of her projects was finished. Marissa licked her lips and tried to take a deep calming breath. It could be pure coincidence that Layla was not where she should be when Marissa’s life was imploding with Ruben at the center of it.

  It sounded rational. Logical. Plausible.

  Yet, there was a sick feeling lodged in her stomach that told her otherwise.

  St. Jude have mercy!

  ARCHER WAS TRYING TO follow his own advice but he had information that he’d withheld from Marissa so as not to further upset her. Layla’s apartment had been trashed. According to Rico, there were definite signs of a struggle.

  He was simply waiting for word. And he was starting to believe it was time to bring in the feds. Officially.

  It was after lunch when the phone finally rang. Archer answered on the first ring, not wanting either Marissa or Jenna to wake from their naps. Archer had instructed Marissa to try and catch some winks with the baby, and given the dark bags under her eyes, he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t fight him on it.

  “Bad news.” Was all Rico said. He didn’t need to elaborate.

  “Dead?”

  “Her body was found in a Dumpster on the East Side. She was pretty messed up, Arch.”

  Rico’s quiet statement put lead weights in his gut. “Give me the details, what you know and how you know it.”

  “A homeless man found her body when he was digging for recyclables. She was bloody and bruised. I talked with the M.E. and he confirmed rape and sodomy. Cause of death looks like strangulation but that’s not official, of course, just an educated guess by the M.E.”

  “Did you flash your badge to get this info?”

  “Didn’t have to. The M.E. and I go way back. She volunteered the information as a courtesy to our history together. But I think it’s time to bring in the team,” Rico advised, echoing the very thing Archer had been thinking earlier. “I know you’re worried about the complications with the kid, but this guy’s a rabid dog and he needs to be put down. You savvy?”

  “Yeah,” Archer sighed. They were out of time and options. Marissa wasn’t going to like this but if there was any hope of catching this guy, they were going to need more artillery than Archer had on his own. “Go ahead and let the General know what’s going down. I’ll await the orders.”

  Archer hung up and wondered how he was going to break the news to Marissa about her friend. He supposed the best way was to just get it over with, like ripping a bandage in one jerk instead of trying to pull it inch by excruciating inch. Except, he didn’t know how much more Marissa could stand. She seemed fragile, near to her breaking point and he couldn’t stand being the one to give her the news that would make her shatter.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MARISSA AWOKE FROM her nap more refreshed and feeling more in control of herself than earlier and she focused on staying optimistic. Archer was right; she couldn’t assume she knew what happened to Layla just because bad things were happening to her personally. It didn’t mean Layla was caught in the same web of misfortune.

  Rising, she checked on Jenna who was still sleeping soundly, then went in search of Archer.

  She found him cleaning his gun at the antique table. The sight of that cold, dark metal made her insides shake and all that fledgling optimism fled in the face of her reality.

  “Rissa, I have bad news,” he said, and the strength seeped from her legs so that she sat abruptly in the chair next to him. He paused to finish and then when it was cleaned to his satisfaction, he holstered the piece and then met her terrified gaze. “It’s about Layla.”

  “No,” she moaned, her heart squeezing so hard it hurt to breathe. “Don’t tell me.”

  “I have to tell you.”

  “She’s dead, isn’t she?” she asked, her voice curiously calm in spite of the feeling that she might pass out.

  “Yes. Her body was found in a Dumpster on the East Side this morning. Her family has confirmed the identification.”

  “Was she…” She could barely get the words out but she needed to know. “Was she…”

  Archer knew what she was trying to say. He nodded gravely. “Yes.”

  Marissa buried her face in her hands as she drew deep, sucking breaths but couldn’t seem to get enough air. “She…she…didn’t deserve…this…Archer. It’s m-my fault,” she said, her teeth starting to chatter from a raw mixture of anger, grief and fear. “I should’ve warned her that I was in trouble…that she shouldn’t talk to anyone who came looking for me. I should’ve…but I didn’t because I wanted to be able to return to my life. It was so selfish of me. Archer…I put her in harm’s way just like Mercedes put me and Jenna. I’m no different than my sister.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” Archer offered softly and she tried to draw comfort from his understanding. “But this isn’t your fault. You did what you thought was best for everyone. You had no way of knowing it would come to this. Don’t take that on.”

  If not her, then who? She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Layla…she was so sweet and nice. She always had a smile for everyone. We used to joke that she was probably incapable of mustering the appropriate facial expression to fire someone. She was so happy. She wouldn’t have recognized Ruben as anyt
hing but a nice guy because she always saw the good in someone.” She balled her fists, wanting desperately to beat something but she kept them in her lap. She let out a long, halting breath then looked to Archer, who still seemed as if there was more bad news to come. “What?” she asked. “What else is there?”

  He didn’t answer right away. That in itself made her go very still, waiting for the next shoe to drop. When he did start talking again, she wished she could just cover her ears and wish it all away. “Things have gotten out of control, Rissa. This guy is a cancer and he’s got to be taken out.”

  “Yeah, you and what army are going to accomplish this?” Marissa snorted, still angry. “He’s untouchable.”

  “No one is untouchable,” Archer disagreed.

  “You don’t know Ruben.”

  “I don’t have to. I’ve known plenty of Ruben-type characters and I’ve sent plenty to rot in prison.”

  “And how many got away?” she challenged, not impressed with his previous statement. She didn’t need machismo, not right now. Archer’s hard look might’ve sent someone else scurrying for cover but Marissa was too keyed up to care. “What about that injury on your shoulder? Did you put away the guy who gave you that? Or did he get away?” Archer’s nostrils flared but he remained silent. It didn’t matter. She read him easily. “You can’t catch them all, Archer,” she said. “That’s just life.”

  “I can sure as hell try,” he said stiffly. “And I will catch the person who gave me this little souvenir. You can count on it.”

  She looked away. “Yeah, well, Ruben isn’t a one-man assignment. It would take a legion to take him down.”

  “You’re right,” he said, surprising her with his easy agreement. He didn’t make her wait long for the reason. “That’s why I’ve brought in the feds.”

  “You did what?” She jumped from the chair, the adrenaline surging through her body to give her the strength she’d lost only moments ago. “Why’d you do that? What did you tell them about Jenna and…” She struggled to even say his name her fear was so great. “And M-Manny?”

  “I told them everything.”

  She searched his face to see if he was lying. When she saw that he wasn’t she wanted to scream, pummel his face and run. He must’ve read all of that in her expression for he was quick on his feet, coming toward her to grip both shoulders in a gentle but firm hold. “Marissa,” he said, looking into her eyes, “this is serious. He’s involved with the killing of two people but we have to have proof and the only way to get it is to open an investigation.”

  “The FBI isn’t going to take this seriously. They’re just going to turn it over to the local authorities and Ruben has them in his pocket,” she said bitterly, shrugging out of his grasp. “You might as well just let me walk right back into that compound and hand over Jenna and myself. That’s going to be the end result anyway and I’d rather do it on my terms.”

  “No, that’s not going to happen,” Archer said, his voice sharp but she didn’t care. “We’re going to catch that son of a bitch and put him away for a long time.”

  “Promise?” she taunted him. “No? Can’t make promises, can you? So don’t. I’m going home. And you can’t stop me.”

  “Don’t do this, Marissa,” he fairly pleaded, and that shocked her. Archer didn’t beg or plead. She looked away from the conflict shining in his eyes, not wanting to see the worry there. “I can help you but you have to let me do it my way,” he said.

  “We tried that and my friend was killed. Your way sucks.”

  She turned and started to walk away but Archer grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. She barely had time to gasp before Archer’s mouth was on hers. Her body went on autopilot, sliding and melting, as her tongue clashed with his, her passion fueled by rage and terror. Her brain ceased to think of anything other than the sensation of being pressed up against Archer’s hard chest and she gave in to the pleasure—until she felt the cold bite of steel clicking around her wrists. She jerked away and stared at the handcuff encircling her small wrist. “What are you doing?” she cried out, not quite able to believe what she was seeing. But it was very real and he had already clamped her other wrist by the time she thought to struggle. “Archer? What’s going on?”

  Archer’s expression had gone flat as he answered, his tone all business. “I can’t let you leave. I have instructions that if you don’t come willingly, I must take you into federal custody on the charges of kidnapping at the very least. I won’t lie…second degree murder might be applicable if Manny did, in fact, die. Take a seat while I load the car.”

  “You bastard,” she hissed, spitting mad on the surface but gravely wounded on the inside by his betrayal. She wished a thousand deaths on his head for his two-faced lies of protection. A horrible thought came at her sidewise. What if he’d planned this all along? What if his hatred for her went so deep that he’d been willing to manufacture concern for her just so he could make the final blow that much more painful? In her jumbled, heartbroken haze, it was completely plausible and the more she gave it air, the more the idea took root. She’d slept with him, gave him her heart, fantasized about living a life with him. All of that plus the fact that he’d wormed his way somehow into Jenna’s little heart made her want to plunge a knife straight into the cavity where his own heart should’ve been if he’d had one. Oh, it hurt. Hurt like nothing she’d ever known and she wanted to make him pay somehow but she was helpless at the moment and likely heading to prison, so her dreams of revenge were useless. Unable to do anything more, she simply screamed, “You lying, sneaky bastard! I can’t believe the depths of your cruelty. I hate you!”

  Archer’s expression didn’t change, even in the face of her condemnation, nor did he offer anything in his defense. No, the coward just walked away, leaving her to fume and quake in fear—all alone.

  ARCHER FELT SICK BUT he stuffed it down so he could focus. He was doing this for her own good, her protection. He wished he could let her in on the plan that he and Rico had come up with but there was no guarantee the General was going to let them follow through so he’d kept it to himself. Besides, it was a risky plan, one that put Marissa directly in harm’s way but it might be the only way to save her.

  In the end, she might still hate him but she’d be alive. And that’s all that mattered.

  The ride was deadly silent. Even Jenna seemed to realize something bad was going on for she remained quiet throughout the drive. Eventually, she dropped off to sleep and Archer was relieved. He hated having her around so much tension. In a very short time, he’d gotten close to the kid. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to her. He wasn’t sure how to process those feelings so he stuffed those down, too.

  They drove straight to the headquarters in San Francisco, to the nondescript gray building that on the outside looked more like a condemned space than something that housed a division of the FBI that was highly irregular in their activities. He pulled into an underground parking garage and shut off the car.

  “Is this where you drop me off and I get fingerprinted and sized for an orange jumpsuit?” she asked coldly, refusing to look at him. Her handcuffed wrists were held in front of her so she could ride comfortably in the car.

  He considered telling her what was happening but he wanted to wait until he got the all clear from his team. He ignored her jab and got out of the car. Rico appeared at the elevator and came toward them.

  Archer unlatched Marissa’s seat belt and helped her out of the car. Next, he went to the backseat and gently freed a sleeping Jenna from her car seat. Then, in a move he knew would put Marissa over the edge, he handed the baby to Rico.

  “What’s going on?” Marissa demanded. She speared Archer with a look that promised retribution if a hair on Jenna’s head was damaged, but there were tears in her eyes that he wanted to wipe away. She started to move toward Rico and Archer stepped in her way. “Get out of my way, Archer,” she said in a low tone.

  “Rico, take the baby. I’ll take Marissa,”
he said, his stare never leaving hers, not trusting her to stay put as she was told. He didn’t need to watch to know that Rico was already melting into the shadows with the precious bundle.

  “You tell me where he’s taking her or so help me, Archer, I will kill you,” she said, her voice tight. “I mean it.”

  “Settle down,” he said gruffly, taking her by the arm as he walked her to the elevator. “She’s going to be fine. You on the other hand might not be if you keep threatening a federal agent. There are laws against that, you know.”

  “Screw you,” she said, full of piss and vinegar, rage and despair. “What’s going to happen? Are you taking her back to Ruben?” She twisted in his grip to stare at him, her gaze pleading and filled with true fear, not for herself but for the baby. “He doesn’t love her, doesn’t even care about her. Please don’t give her back to him. If she died, he wouldn’t even blink. He’d be relieved! He never wanted her…Archer, please…don’t give her back to that monster,” she said, her voice tumbling to a pained whisper that even he couldn’t ignore any longer. He pulled her into his arms and tucked her against his chest where she sagged in spite of her anger, shaking like a leaf in a stiff wind.

  “Let’s get you inside. We have to talk,” he said, pressing a quick, almost illicit kiss against her crown. Her sharp intake of breath told him he’d shocked her with the action, probably even confused her. He could do nothing else. The success of this plan required Marissa to be unaware—at least at the beginning—of the plan.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  MARISSA WAS LED TO a small, square room with gray walls that matched the gray, metal table, and gray floor tile. It was probably the most uncomfortable room she’d ever had the misfortune to be put into but something told her that was the point. She’d never had so much as a traffic ticket yet here she was handcuffed in federal custody.