by Mallory Kane
He ground his fist into his palm. It didn’t matter why. She was a distraction, and he had no room in his life for distractions. He had an obligation to Carlos Botero, and now to Craig Johnson.
He didn’t want anything else to do with Sophie Brooks. He didn’t want to think about her, didn’t want to see her. He sure didn’t want to feel anything for her. He needed all his focus, all his attention, to find Sonya’s kidnappers and Johnson’s murderer.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Sean sat in the richly appointed offices of the chief medical director of the hospital. He’d expected to see Rachel Brennan and Rafe Montoya there, but the presence of the police commissioner had surprised him.
The medical director assured him that the hospital was handling the autopsy and that as soon as they had a cause of death, he would be notified.
Sean shook his head and laughed. “Notified. That was one of my men who died in there. It’s my case.”
“I had occasion to speak with your employer this morning, Mr. Majors,” the police commissioner said.
“You’ve talked with Mr. Botero?” Anger boiled up inside him. It took a huge effort to keep his voice calm. “He is very ill. I’m his chief of security, and I’ve worked extremely hard to keep him informed without upsetting him. Why didn’t you go through me?”
“I assure you, there was no intent to go over your head, Mr. Majors, but I cannot overemphasize the sensitive nature of this matter.”
Sean bristled. “I am aware of the sensitivity of this matter. I’m also aware of the seriousness. Someone murdered Craig Johnson, and my employer’s daughter is still missing.” He looked pointedly at the police commissioner. “Mr. Botero asked me personally not to involve the police.”
He looked around the room. “Yet here we are. You did go over my head. And now I find that a wedding planner and her rent-a-cop have more information about this case than I do.” This time, he didn’t try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
He saw Montoya’s face grow dark with anger. He also saw Rachel Brennan’s manicured hand move in an almost imperceptible gesture.
Montoya, who had grabbed the arms of his chair, consciously relaxed his hands.
“We need your cooperation, Mr. Majors,” Rachel Brennan said.
Sean sent her an ironic glance. “Yes, you do. I need explanations, Ms. Brennan.”
The police commissioner cleared his throat. “I’m afraid at this point, you must be content to trust us. There are some very touchy international matters that cannot be disturbed right now. We have no choice but to maintain a low profile.”
Sean stood, his chair scraping the hardwood floor. “I am aware of the situation in Ladera, and of Juan DeLeon’s involvement. I have no reason to interfere with any matter concerning them. But I will not maintain a low profile. I have a murderer and a kidnapper to catch. I can do this alone if I have to. You will find, though, that you would rather have me as a friend than as an enemy.”
“Are you threatening me, Mr. Majors?” The commissioner scowled.
“Not at all. I’m merely informing you of my plan. I will continue my own investigation into the matters that concern Mr. Botero.”
He stood there for a few seconds, as glances passed among the seated participants. Then, straightening his back, he turned on his heel and left.
In the hall, he slammed his palm against a door facing, the resulting pain making him feel slightly better. He reared back to do it again, but a student nurse passing by looked at him in alarm, so he doubled his fist at his side instead.
He stalked to his car and headed toward Botero’s estate, dialing the cell phone of his second-in-command, Al Lopez.
“Lopez, everything all right there?”
“Fine. I heard about Johnson.” Lopez didn’t waste words or time. It was his biggest asset.
“Yeah. Kenner’s pretty shaken up. He’ll be turning in a report. Let me know when he gets it done, will you? And keep him busy. He’s got the idea this was his fault.”
“Was it?”
“No. I should have had two guards posted.”
“Maybe.”
Sean knew Lopez wasn’t sure that two guards would have been any better able to protect Johnson than one. Neither was he. But he still felt responsible.
“I understand the police commissioner called Carlos. How’d he take it?”
“Not good. He thought the commissioner had word about Sonya. Javier said he almost collapsed.”
“Damn it.” Frustration burned in his gut. “I’m on my way over there. I want a meeting with the team.”
“Two meetings.”
“Right. Half the team will maintain security while I meet with the rest. Then we’ll switch and I’ll go over everything for the rest. Lopez, I’m counting on you. Until Sonya is found, I want everyone on full alert. As far as the security team is concerned, the estate is under attack.”
Sean looked at his watch. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Have the first team ready. And Lopez, I want you personally to intercept all phone calls to the estate. I want you on the phone when the kidnappers call. I have a feeling that call is coming in very soon.”
Sean disconnected. He could count on Lopez. He’d been with Carlos ever since the businessman had come to the U.S. Lopez could have had Sean’s job, but he didn’t want it. He was a natural leader who’d been a guerrilla fighter in his youth. The security team respected Sean, but the fierce loyalty they felt for Lopez was what made them the best.
He glanced at the dashboard clock. It would take about an hour to brief the team, see Carlos, and discuss with Lopez how to handle the kidnappers’ call when it came.
Then, as much as he hated it, he had to talk to Sophie. He growled in disgust as his body reacted in anticipation of seeing her. He wiped the vision of her lying in his bed from his brain and replaced it with the coy smile she’d given him as she’d gushed about loving danger.
Cleansing anger swept away his body’s betraying arousal. She’d lied to him, penetrated his defenses.
How could he have been so weak? He’d never been one to lose his perspective because of a woman. Not even his ex-wife. As much as he’d loved Cindy, he’d known what she was.
But Sophie’s sad eyes had gotten to him.
She’d followed him to the hospital this morning, and he already knew those blue eyes didn’t miss much. He had to know what she’d seen.
Chapter Seven
Sean parked in front of Weddings Your Way next to Sophie’s little BMW. As he climbed out of his car, he pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead and squinted at the passenger side panel.
“What the hell?” A deep scratch marred the metallic red paint.
Alarm sent a shot of adrenaline through him. He walked around to the driver’s side. The front fender was dented and traces of dark paint were embedded in the bent metal.
“Sophie.” He looked toward the main doors of Weddings Your Way. In a few bounds, he was across the courtyard and up the steps. He pushed the door open and found himself face-to-face with Rafe Montoya.
“What the hell happened?” he demanded, his pugnacious stance daring Rafe to refuse to tell him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sophie across the room. She turned, her hand rising to her throat.
“We’ve got a CSU on its way to process the car,” Rafe said.
“Process—what happened?” He pushed past Rafe and stalked over to Sophie, who was standing next to a waifish young woman in tortoiseshell glasses.
As he approached, the waif stepped in front of Sophie. He probably looked like a raging bull, but he didn’t care. His only concern was Sophie.
He ignored her petite protector. “What happened? Are you all right?”
Her blue eyes were filled with wariness and something he couldn’t define, but she touched the smaller woman on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Samantha,” she said softly.
Samantha looked from Sophie to him, then patted Sophie’s hand and retreated.
“Majors.”
Monto
ya had followed him. Sean rounded on him.
“I’ll be glad to fill you in on what happened.”
“Yeah?” Sean clenched his fists. “Like you filled me in on the police commissioner’s involvement? I think I’d rather talk to Sophie.”
A glint of amusement lit Montoya’s black eyes. “No doubt.”
Sean bristled and took a step toward him.
“Rafe, please.”
Sophie’s voice brought Sean back from the edge of unreasoning anger.
“You two are like rams butting heads. I’ll talk to Sean.”
Montoya assessed her. Arching one dark brow, he held up a hand. “Fine, if you’re sure.”
She darted a glance at Sean. “I’m sure.”
“I’ll get your blouse to CSU, although they likely won’t be able to lift a print. They can analyze what the substance is, though.”
Sophie nodded at him and avoided Sean’s gaze.
As soon as Montoya had crossed the room, Sean bent his head and spoke softly. “I want to talk to you privately. Where can we go?”
When Sophie lifted her gaze to his, the wariness in her face, in her stance, made him feel like a bully. He took a deep breath and deliberately relaxed his tense muscles.
“Stop looking at me like that. I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to find out what happened.”
Her expression told him she wasn’t at all sure of him. Of course she wasn’t. They barely knew each other.
Damn it, how had she stripped away his usual self-control? Even as he asked himself that question, he knew the answer. She fascinated him like no one he’d ever met. It didn’t matter if she craved excitement and danger like his ex-wife. It didn’t matter that he knew she was hiding something from him.
He’d made a huge mistake by inviting her into his home, and an even bigger one by inviting her into his bed.
When he’d discovered that she’d been abused, it had broken his heart. Combined with her vulnerable sexuality, she’d been impossible to resist. A surge of remembered ecstasy caused a hitch in his breathing.
She moistened her lips. “We can go out by the pool. It will be hot but…” Her voice trailed off and her gaze dropped to her hands.
“That’s fine.”
So she didn’t know how to act after last night. Well, neither did he. All he knew was that he had to correct the mistake he’d made by giving in to his growing attraction for Sophie. He had to cut out his personal feelings. She didn’t need his protection. She had Montoya to protect her.
The rest was just a matter of self-control.
There was too much at stake for him to be careless again. Besides, as he kept reminding himself, he had no time or inclination for a relationship.
Sophie led him through a set of French doors out to the pool area behind the main salon of Weddings Your Way. The day was hot, with a few white clouds floating lazily in the deep blue sky.
Beyond the opulent, tiled pool area was a magnificent view of the ocean. The fresh smell of salt water filled the air, and sunlight sparkled on the ocean’s surface like floating diamonds.
Sophie led him around the pool to a white wrought-iron table and chairs covered by a gauzy canopy.
As they sat, his gaze lit on her legs and a splinter of compassion slipped into his heart. He gave his head a quick shake to dislodge the vision of the faded scars that crisscrossed her thighs and lifted his gaze to hers.
She blinked and looked down, fiddling with a button on her sleeve. “You wanted to ask me something?”
He rested one hand on the top of the table. He looked at it, then doubled it into a fist and bounced it lightly against the glass tabletop. His watchband clunked rhythmically.
Damn it, he had to do something to release the frustration and tension. If he paced, he wouldn’t be able to watch her face.
“Let’s see. Where do I start? How about telling me why you followed me to the hospital? Or why you pretended to be visiting your hospitalized cousin when my guard questioned you?”
He spread his fingers on the tabletop, then drummed them. “Or how about what the hell happened to your car? And when? Or why is your blouse being gone over for evidence?” He heard his voice growing harsher and louder. He swallowed and shrugged the tension out of his shoulders.
Sophie’s eyes had grown wider as he’d thrown the questions at her. A breeze lifted her hair and blew it into her face. She tossed her head and moistened her lips. Then she clasped her hands in front of her on the table and looked down at them for a moment.
When she raised her head, her mouth was a tight line. She leaned forward and took a long breath.
“I followed you because I knew Rachel would want to know what had happened to Craig Johnson. I made up the story about the cousin because I needed a reason to be there. It was before visiting hours. I couldn’t afford to be stopped and questioned.”
Her knuckles turned white. “It turns out that it was a good thing. A man in blue surgical scrubs and a mask got onto the elevator with me.” She shivered. “He watched me, all the way down to the lobby. Then he pushed everyone aside and darted down a side hall. I tried to follow him but he disappeared into an area marked ‘Authorized Personnel Only.’”
“He pushed you?”
She nodded. “That’s how I got the smear on my blouse. He wasn’t a doctor. His fingernails and hands were dirty.”
“Did he say anything?”
“No. He was just creepy. He never took his eyes off me.”
“And you think—”
“I think he could be Johnson’s murderer.”
Sean stared at her as his mind struggled to comprehend. “If his hands were dirty, he had to have left fingerprints.”
Frustration tightened his jaw. “I hope Montoya’s men aren’t destroying evidence.”
“Our security team is the best.”
Sean eyed her narrowly. “‘Our’ security team?”
Her eyelids fluttered. “Rachel’s.”
“Yeah. I find the amount of dollars and manpower devoted to security interesting for a wedding salon.”
She pressed her lips together and averted her gaze.
“Can you describe the man?”
“I’ve told Rafe everything I can recall. We think he was the same man who tried to jab Samantha with a needle a couple of weeks ago. She noticed dirty fingernails, too.”
“You said this guy boarded the elevator with you. That means he’d have to have been on the fourth floor when I left. I didn’t see him.”
Sophie shrugged. “He could have come up the stairs, or changed clothes.”
Sean made a mental note to get Montoya to round up all hospital employees that fit Sophie’s description and question them again.
He sat forward, too filled with anger and the need for action to relax. “That explains the blouse. What about your car?”
“I drove home and showered—” She stopped. A blush painted her cheeks as her eyes met his.
For a brief instant, the night and their intimacy hovered between them, as palpable and substantial as a living thing. Her eyes glittered.
Sean wished he had the courage to reach for her, to touch her pink cheek and tell her it was all right. Her secret was safe with him. All her secrets. But that would bring him too close.
Her intrusion into his house, into his life, was too new, too raw. He needed distance right now. And he didn’t have the courage to explain why.
He looked down.
After a beat, Sophie continued. “I changed clothes and drove back here. On the exit ramp, a car tried to run me into the guardrail.” Her voice was steady but her knuckles were still white and the corners of her mouth were pinched.
“Damn, Sophie, are you all right?” A horrifying picture rose in his mind. Sophie’s little red BMW convertible crushed between a big black monster of a car and the twisted metal of the guardrail.
A searing pain ripped through his heart, surprising the hell out of him. The idea of Sophie being hurt was unbearable.
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She nodded.
He put his hand over her clasped ones. “Did you get the tag number? Did you call the police? Are you sure you weren’t hurt?”
“I’m fine. I didn’t catch the tag and, no, I didn’t call the police.”
The look on her face stopped him. “You reported it to Rachel Brennan instead.”
He looked beyond her toward the palatial offices of Weddings Your Way. It was a facade, an illusion. Something else was going on here. Something that, if not sinister, was at least cloaked in secrecy, the kind of secrecy that only the government could manage.
Sophie said something.
“What?”
She shifted in her seat. “Nothing.”
But he replayed what he’d heard in his head.
“Should have chased the car? Are you kidding me?” He shook his head at her. “No. You shouldn’t have. They could have had guns. Sophie, was the driver trying to kill you?”
She didn’t even blink at a question that should have floored her.
“I don’t think so. It was a big car. If the driver had wanted to kill me, his car could have crushed mine with no effort. I think it was a warning.”
“You were followed.”
Sophie glanced at her watch and stood. “I’m sorry, Sean—Mr. Majors. I have an appointment with a client.”
Sean stood, too. Mr. Majors. Apparently she regretted the night before as much as he did. Oddly, that didn’t make him feel better.
“Sophie.” He gripped her shoulder. “Someone followed you home. You know what that means.”
She lifted her gaze to his.
“Your life is in danger.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said just as Montoya walked up. “Excuse me,” she said quickly. “I’m sure my client is waiting.”
Aware of Montoya’s hooded gaze, Sean watched her walk back to the house. Her black skirt and pale gray blouse hugged her slender figure. She was beautiful and elegant and poised.
Sean wondered if the people she worked with knew all she’d overcome, all she’d sacrificed. He wondered if they knew how much effort it took for her to maintain her cool facade.
