Guarding Laura

by Susan Vaughan

  Sympathy only exacerbated her emotional dam burst. She hadn’t considered the stress of pushing through every day with fear dogging her from all directions. Fear of Markos’s hit man, of what new so-called accident he might try. But mostly fear of the emotional turmoil of living with Cole. She ached with love for him. Being with him was both torture and joy.

  “Man trouble of my own making.” She could barely choke out the words. She blew her nose into a tissue. “Drat, I’m making such a fool of myself.”

  “Nonsense, my dear, turn that flow into a gusher if you need to,” Doris said.

  “How can we help?” Bea said.

  They were so sweet and understanding that the thought brought more tears. It had been so long since she’d had motherly comforting. She sobbed and sniffled, drawing her tears from a bottomless lake.

  The two ladies let her cry, simply sitting beside her lending support. At last Laura straightened and wiped the last of the moisture from her puffy eyes.

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing anyone can do.” Her sobs quieted to an occasional shivery whimper. Though she couldn’t involve these gentle souls in her problems, they might be able to help in one way. “But let me ask your advice. This is totally theoretical, you understand.”

  “Of course, dear.” Bea leaned in, her button eyes eager and alert.

  “Ask away.” Doris scooted her stool closer and deposited the tote bag on the floor beside her. Her layered skirts spread around her like petals.

  “Suppose you had a secret. An important, tragic secret you’d kept for years. A secret that would break your heart to reveal, but one that a person you loved deserved to know. What would you do?”

  The elderly sisters looked at each other, apparently pondering the problem.

  Bea cleared her throat. “Laura, we’ve been in the theater all our lives. On stage and off, everyone has secrets.”

  “In Arsenic and Old Lace, the ladies’ secret is murder. This secret is nothing so drastic, I expect,” Doris said with the eager air of one hoping for more elucidation.

  Laura gasped, horrified. “No, nothing dangerous or illegal, I promise you.” Only agonizing to her, and probably shocking to Cole.

  Outside, cheers erupted. The race was either starting or ending. She didn’t have long. Cole would come looking for her.

  “I never suspected it was, dearie,” Doris said. “But let me say that I believe truth is usually better than deception. Look at all the problems in the world that could be avoided if people were truthful with one another.”

  Laura stood and helped the others to their feet. “Thank you for your kind shoulders. You’re generous friends.”

  Bea smoothed her black sausage curls. “Doris is right. Most of the time, truth is preferable. On the other hand, too much frankness can hurt. If knowing a secret would cause the hearer pain, silence might be the wiser course.”

  “Then again,” added Doris, “sometimes our emotions blind us. What we perceive as our show-stopper scene is only a walk-on in life’s drama.”

  The Van Tassels departed, leaving Laura feeling guiltier and more confused than ever. No closer to knowing what to do.

  A few moments later, Cole found her in the inn’s TV room. In her slim white slacks and crisp green shirt, she looked tailored and perfect, yet small and fragile. The attempts on her life and—he had to admit it—his presence were taking their toll. What happened long ago had hurt her deeply. Losing the baby in an accident had crushed her spirit. She’d believed that he didn’t want her.

  Not want her?

  He’d never stopped. He knew that now.

  “Laura, the twins are asking for you. They want you to sit and eat with them.” Her slumped shoulders and red-rimmed eyes wrenched at his heart. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, just fine.” She stuffed wadded tissues in her pockets.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, but your Technicolor eyes don’t agree.” In two strides he reached her and wrapped her in his arms. “Whatever upset you had to be bad for you to go off alone. What happened?”

  She stepped away from him, shaking her head. Pain and sorrow pinched her soft mouth. She searched his face, as if looking for the answer there. “It’s everything—Janus, Markos, last night’s attack. Us. All of a sudden I felt crushed, like being covered by a landslide.” She managed a wobbly smile. “I’m all right. I’ll go out now and see the kids.”

  Cole swore, his arms aching for her. But maybe she needed to keep busy. He strode to the screen door to assure himself she wouldn’t leave alone.

  There she was, sunglasses concealing her eyes, sitting at a table with the twins and Kay and their parents. Vanessa stood nearby. Byrne kept surveillance on the other side of the crowd. Snow sat at a table with some of the other guests. Laura was safe for now. Physically.

  Time and time again she’d berated him for dwelling on his dysfunctional and JD background. She’d ordered him to get over himself. And crowed when he’d acknowledged using his ATSA credentials to open doors for Marisol.

  You’re just like me—

  “Go away,” he muttered to the voice in his head. He waited for his old man’s voice to snipe at him again from the depths of his soul.

  Silence. No sneering voice.

  Laura was right. He’d overcome the past and moved on. He didn’t need to prove himself over and over. Success in his work and for the Colombian kids was a source of pride, but not hurdles with constantly raised bars.

  If he applied the logic Laura so valued, there was no barrier between them. No more barriers of stubbornness and self-doubt. Only the barriers she erected out of pain and fear of the future. But he could knock those down.

  For her.

  For them.

  He’d waited this long for her. He could hang on until she was safe from murderous importers and dodgy hit men.

  Cole’s next order of business was to find out why Alexei Markos was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter 15

  “Thanks, man,” Cole said to Isaacs. “I don’t know if that information means anything. At this point I’ll take whatever the hell I can get.” They stood beneath a tamarack tree at the edge of the inn’s wide lawn.

  The ATSA officer shrugged. “Fisher said to tell you one of the techies could fix the bum computer. I’ll take it to him now if you like. I’m free.”

  “Great. The damn thing’s not much good to me dead. Can’t you fix it? You ATF guys are up on all the electronics.” Cole realized Isaacs was trying to make up for the night before, for misunderstanding where he was supposed to be. If the guy wanted to run errands, okay by Cole.

  “I can rig remotes to trigger bombs or deactivate ’em or block the signal. That’s it.”

  Cole laughed. “Damn thing’s on the front seat of the Avalanche. You might as well drive that, for your trouble.” He handed over the keys.

  “Always wanted to tool around in that behemoth.” Grinning, Isaacs waved a small salute and jogged away.

  Cole strolled to the inn porch to wait while Laura helped carry the leftover food inside. He gave a hand to Burt Elwell and Simon Byrne, who were folding the picnic tables and stashing them in the back of the resort pickup.

  A few minutes later, Laura came out of the inn carrying a paper plate covered with plastic wrap. When she spotted him, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Trying to conceal her exhaustion, he figured. Aches and pains from a tumble downstairs wore down even a woman with a steel spine.

  Cole longed to pick her up and tuck her in bed, but she’d screech louder than a siren if he tried.

  She cocked her head and smiled in a teasing way. “Bea wrapped up some lemon tarts. For a bedtime snack, she said.”

  “Think the chipmunks outside your cabin would like them?”

  Laura hobbled gingerly down the steps. “Not Bea’s creation but Joyce’s. Her cooking is blue-ribbon quality, not like Bea’s black-ribbon cuisine, so you’re safe.”

  Mouth watering, he peered at the crispy crusts filled with
pale-yellow custard. He reached for the plate. “I’ll eat one now. I didn’t get any dessert.”

  Laura whisked it to her side, just out of reach. The curve of her soft lips was sexy as hell. “Not yet, mister. First, I want to know what has you looking like you swallowed a porcupine. Your jaw’s as relaxed as harp strings. What did Isaacs have to report? Is it Markos?”

  He took her free hand. Her apple scent and some of the lemon from the tarts wafted to him, and the soft slide of her fingers linked with his kicked his senses into high gear. Male senses, not protective senses. Bad timing. “Not here.”

  They headed toward the lake, where no one would overhear. The aroma of barbecue blended with pine scents on the cool night air. Small brown bats scooped up insects on the wing.

  “How’s the knee?” Cole asked, swatting at the mosquito dive bombing his ear.

  “Not too bad. I’ll be glad to put it up for a while.”

  She wasn’t a whiner. That meant it felt like Mike Tyson had used it for a punching bag.

  He moved her hand to the crook of his arm, to lend support—and better cover. “Nothing on Markos. That’s a bust.”

  “Then what?” Her stubborn chin told him she was trying to sound casual.

  “You heard me ask Stan about the gas heater. I want you to understand that there may be nothing wrong with it. Somebody may be deliberately loosening the valve and dousing the pilot light. Even with our surveillance.”

  Comprehension widened her eyes. “Do you still suspect Burt?” Then she gave a small shiver, as if a chill raced down her spine at the thought of that boy mixed up in this deadly game. She didn’t want to believe it of him. God knew why.

  Cole uttered a grunt of doubt. “I’m willing to bet no. I want to eliminate him once and for all. When he comes to fix the heater, I’ll talk to him.”

  Laura squeezed his arm, enjoying the feel of hard muscle beneath the skin. She might be in a pile of trouble, but having him beside her gave her the illusion of safety. Her heart twisted at the thought that his nearness had to end when the danger did. But she had no choice. “Are you basing your skepticism on facts or on your spy instincts?”

  “A little of both.”

  “Is it the note?”

  “Think you’re pretty smart.” He grinned in admiration. “He’s not clever enough for the so-called accidents. Janus wouldn’t hire somebody so clumsy. Besides, the words on last night’s note are spelled right.”

  She scuffed her sneaker toe in the sand. “Cole, my instincts about people are usually good. Burt may be lazy and not the sharpest pencil in the box. Rudy Damon may have dreams of returning to Broadway. Stan and Dr. Rhodes may be in debt. But none of them would take money from this hit man to murder me. They’re no killers.”

  He brought her hand to his lips, kissing the palm. “I hate to point it out, but a year ago would you have guessed that Alexei Markos was a terrorist shill…and a murderer?”

  Panic kicking up her heartbeat, Laura could do nothing but shake her head. She felt a chill, and it wasn’t from the cool breeze wafting across the lake. “So do you believe it’s one of them? Or do you think the hit man is here?”

  “He’s here.” His jaw was taut, his mouth grim. “But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t bribed or blackmailed an accomplice to help him.”

  She bit her lip in concentration, fighting the fear with cool logic. “And, Cole, he seems to know where I am, what I do and what time I come home,” Laura said as they meandered aimlessly. “Now that I think about it, the attacker last night seemed to know the theater in the dark as well as I did.”

  “He’s sure as hell keeping a close watch on you. He seems to get around my operatives to set up his damned accidents.” Knuckles rasping against his whiskers, he wagged his head. “I should see a clue or two in that, but so far nada.”

  She trusted him to figure it out eventually, but hated to see his frustration. “Your background checks have come up empty. That doesn’t make sense. Someone should stick out.”

  “That’s the hell of it, babe. I figure the hit man Janus has to be somebody we both know. Somebody we see every day.”

  His gaze swept the area. The thickening clouds were deepening the shadows in the shrubbery. Every movement of the breeze shifted the shadows and rustled leaves.

  “Let’s head to the cabin. Too many dark places out here.” He curved an arm around her waist.

  They walked in silence until the cabin came into view through the trees.

  Laura pointed. “I see Burt headed to my cabin. He doesn’t look happy about doing repairs this time of night.”

  The cabin was dark except for the outside light. Its glow illuminated the silhouette of the young handyman, a tool kit in hand. He slouched along the gravel path.

  “About time. Come on.”

  “Oh, no. Let him fix it.” She placed a restraining hand on his chest. “You said yourself gassing someone that way was an unreliable and clumsy way to commit murder.”

  “Exactly. But it would look like an accident. Another in a damn string of accidents.” He lifted her hand and kissed the palm. He flicked a glance toward the inn. Stan and Byrne were still loading tables. “I’m going in to keep an eye on him. And to see if the safety valve is defective or purposely disabled. You stay with Byrne until I give the all clear.”

  He sent Byrne a hand signal, and she observed the officer’s silent reply.

  Brow furrowed in a fearsome scowl, Cole stood poised to continue on the path to the cabin. If she narrowed her eyes, she could visualize him as her sworn knight. His armor might be tarnished or dented from battle, but her champion was nonetheless honorable and stalwart.

  Laura didn’t want to believe that someone she knew as a friend could be trying to kill her. Still, she had to trust Cole to know his business. “Don’t be too hard on Burt if he’s just doing his job.”

  “Please go on to the inn. I need to know you’re safe.” His crystalline blue eyes bore into her, seemed to reach out and touch hers with their heat. If she lived to be ninety, she’d remember the sizzle his gaze never failed to inspire. In this instance, with the added fillip of danger.

  She sighed, and not entirely with resignation. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”

  Laura cut across the dew-damp lawn toward the inn. She looked back at Cole as he continued along the path, but he was only a dark silhouette against the fading sky as he approached the cabin.

  A rumble like a waking dragon shook the ground.

  The cabin windows burst outward in a torrent of glass splinters.

  The walls exploded apart with a thunderous roar and a burst of smoke and flame.

  A volcanic ball of fire shot through the roof.

  The shock wave from the blast knocked Laura down. Roof shingles and broken glass fell on her head. A board crashed to the ground beside her.

  Broiling heat seared her skin and ignited trees. The old tamarack went up like a Roman candle.

  Cole! Where are you?

  Coughing and choking at a stench like dragon’s breath, she scrambled toward where she’d seen him last. She pulled her shirt up to cover her nose and mouth. The heat was stifling. She could barely breathe. Black smoke curtained the path. She could see nothing.

  “Cole!”

  Only the roar of the fire and the serpentine flow of smoke responded.

  Cole stumbled out of the choking smoke cloud to see Simon Byrne helping Laura to the safety of the inn. Coughing and wiping his eyes, he slogged in that direction. Every bone in his body ached like he’d been cranked on a medieval rack.

  Sirens screamed in the distance, their klaxons blaring louder as they approached the resort.

  Orange-red tongues of fire licked into the night sky from what was left of the small wooden structure. The tamarack beside it was a charred trunk, but most of the other trees nearby had only a few burnt limbs, like lightning damage. The recent rain had apparently soaked everything well enough to protect them.

  One adjacent cabin had holes in the roo
f from the initial blast, but the wind blew the blaze the other direction. The fire was just leaping across the open space to a cabin on the other side. Cole hoped the fire trucks would arrive in time to save most of them. Most employees were local and lived in town so both cabins were unoccupied.

  Thank God he hadn’t gone inside with Burt Elwell, the poor bastard. The valve must’ve been wide-open again, so the cabin filled with gas. The unhandy handyman must’ve clicked on lights to trigger enough of a spark to ignite the bomb. And it was a damned bomb.

  The entire cabin had been rigged to explode.

  Except Laura was supposed to be the one to die inside.

  No doubt that the gas leak was deliberate. There were too many contrived accidents for this to be a damn coincidence. When murder was involved, he didn’t believe in coincidences.

  In spite of the heat rolling over him from the blaze, horror frosted him in a chilling burst at what had nearly happened to Laura, and what could still happen if he wasn’t more alert and careful than he’d ever been in his life.

  Fear for her coiled in his gut like a rattler ready to strike. He paused by the tennis court and had to grip the chain link fence for support as a wave of dizziness hit.

  What would the bastard try next?

  Cole shouldn’t have listened to her damn plea not to go to a safe house. He should’ve hog-tied her and thrown her in the Avalanche and taken off that first night before ATSA even thought of setting a trap.

  They could still leave. Right now.

  Hell, they had no cabin and no clothes, no reason to stay even tonight. He had the means to get them the hell out of here—his laptop and truck, safe in Alderport, thanks to Kent Isaacs. And his Bad Boy sat safely in the theater lobby.

  But Cole was close, so close, to trapping Janus and nailing Markos that he hated to give up.

  If it was the last thing he ever did, he would get the sons of bitches. How to do that and protect Laura made him sweat and clutch at the writhing serpents in his belly.

  Bright-red fire trucks rushed onto the lawn. Men and women in black-and-yellow jackets and black boots raced to the lake with hoses. Soon plumes of water streamed over the blazing cabin and the small fires started around it.