The Man For The Job

by Marie-Nicole Ryan

  "I think it'll work."

  "Personally, I think Mike's playing with fire, and I don't want my niece to be the one who gets burned if his plan goes up in smoke."

  "It'll work."

  Wilford watched Lilith Sand whispering to Paul Winston. “She's working him all right."

  George grinned. “No doubt about it."

  "Hell, I thought he was smarter than that, but then, many a man's been defeated by a brick-shithouse body and a pair of doe eyes."

  "Hah. Sounds to me like you're falling under her spell, too."

  Wilford shook his head. “Not me. First of all, I'm married to the greatest lady on this planet. And second, I've known Lilith too long."

  "That's right. She's related by marriage."

  "I don't claim kinship.” He chuckled as he watched the P.I. mosey over to the couple. Mike leaned in and said something to Lilith, who stiffened.

  He winked at George. “Looks like she took offense to something he said. Probably warned Paul to watch his ass."

  "Interesting woman.” George raised an eyebrow and nodded. “We could've used her at the Agency. She would've been unstoppable."

  "I'm not sure even the Agency could control her."

  "Still, might've been fun to match wits with her...” George banged on the side of his wheelchair with his good arm. “...in the old days, I mean."

  "Yeah, well, she might've been more than you could comfortably chew, even then."

  George laughed. “But it sure would've been fun trying."

  "Hah!” Wilford snorted. “She'd chew you up and spit you out for breakfast and be looking for another man before coffee break."

  George's shoulders shook with barely restrained laughter.

  "Good to see you in high spirits, old man."

  * * * *

  At the unaccustomed sound of his father's laughter, Mike looked around in surprise. His old man had never been much of a jokester, and since his stroke...

  A flash of gray cloth caught his eye. Millie, the housekeeper, was flitting around and making sure the guests were well-fed and liquored.

  Great. The alcohol might loosen some tongues—the right ones, anyway.

  At least his son was well out of it. Marina, too. And unless Mike was mistaken, he'd picked up on some vibes between her and Rocky.

  He continued to scan the guests. Gwyn was talking to Detective McKenzie and Everley. Uh-oh, looked like her weasel cousin was putting the moves on the detective.

  I have to hear this. Mike ambled over to the three just in time to see Everley's face flush a deep red as he backed away from the two women like they'd been diagnosed with Ebola.

  "Say, Eddie, sorry to see you go, but don't let me stop you."

  Everley's jaw tightened, but he spun around and stalked over to his mother. Mike grinned at Gwyn and nodded at McKenzie. “Don't know what you said, Detective, but it must've been good."

  "Believe me, it was priceless.” Gwyn giggled. “I wish I'd thought of it first."

  "I get more practice with jerks than you do. It's all in a day's work,” McKenzie answered with a smug smile.

  "Gwyn, did I tell you that I used to go fishing with Moira's brother?"

  "At least once,” Gwyn's tone turned terse.

  Now why would his fishing with the detective's brother bother her? Was she jealous?

  "Cardinal sin, repeating myself. Next thing you know, I'll turn into my old man.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, ready to continue ragging on his father, but a low-pitched drone caught his attention. Mike glanced up and watched a dark speck appearing over the mountain range. It sounded like...

  "What the hell?"

  Forty

  Rocky set down the suitcase in the slate foyer of Marina's co-op.

  "Is that everything?” she asked.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Yes, of course it is.” She laced her fingers together to keep her hands from shaking. “I mean, I ought to know what I took with me.” At least she would've known if she wasn't so confused by a certain large, manly presence standing so resolutely in her home.

  "It's been a pretty exciting weekend,” Rocky told her with a wide grin. “I'm impressed you can keep anything straight."

  "Me, too,” she admitted wryly, then turned to her son. “Take the bag of toys to your room and put them away."

  "Now?” Adam whined. “I want to talk to Rocky. He's going to show me his handcuffs. Then I can be a p'licemen like Daddy."

  "After you put your toys away."

  "Okay.” The boy picked up his bag and dragged it down the hall toward his room.

  "He's a good kid, Marina."

  "Thank you.” She glanced down at the backs of her hands and studied them a moment before asking, “Would you like to stay for some coffee? It's been a long day—and a long drive."

  Although she knew her offer of coffee meant just coffee, her heart sped up, hammering in her chest so loudly, she was amazed Rocky couldn't hear it.

  "Thanks.” His grin crinkled the corners of his sky blue eyes. Funny, she hadn't noticed them earlier. “Coffee would be great."

  "Of course, I don't want to keep you.” She glanced up at him from beneath thick, dark-fringed lashes. “I know you need to get back to Virginia."

  "Now, hold on here. You're not getting rid of me that easy. Mike wants me to stay here and make sure you're all right and that you stay all right."

  "No, really. You should go back. Mike might need you. You saw for yourself that we live in a secure building. We'll be fine."

  Stubbornly he crossed his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I saw the doorman and all that, but I think I ought to stick around just to make sure."

  "Please, Rocky, go back. I'm worried about Mike—and Gwyneth. Whoever killed her ex-fiancé might have a grudge against one of them as well. I don't know what Adam would do if something happened to Mike, and Mike would be so upset if anything happened to Gwyneth. They need you."

  She could see her pleas affected him by his furrowed brow, but would he agree? She had a bad feeling. “I don't think the troubles are over. Adam and I are out of the way, but they're still there. And the murderer is, too."

  "You've got a point. I'll call Mike and see how it's going."

  "Sure. That's exactly what you ought to do. Then I'll tell him that we're fine and that you're coming back."

  "No, he'll tell you I should stay here."

  "We'll see what he says, won't we?"

  "You are one, stubborn little gal."

  "I don't deny it."

  Rocky pulled his cell phone from a pocket and hit the speed dial. He shook his head, a puzzled expression on his ruggedly handsome face. “Damn. He's not answering."

  "See! I told you he needs you. You have to go back.” Panic spread through her. Her legs trembled as she thought of all the terrible things that could be happening.

  "Marina,” Rocky pleaded, “it's two hundred and fifty miles. And the way security is now, it would take me that long to catch a flight."

  "What about a private plane?"

  "No,” Rocky insisted. “Leaving you and the boy doesn't make sense. I'm here. I'm doing what Mike wanted. I'm supposed to be protecting you and Adam.” He shook his head. “Mike must've turned off his phone."

  "He doesn't ever turn it off,” she persisted. “Something's wrong. I know it."

  "His battery's dead,” he suggested, then took her by the shoulders. “Look here, Marina, Mike can take care of himself. He's a big boy. I'm not budging."

  She wasn't sure if it was the sickening fear of what might be happening to Mike and Gwyneth or the sudden contact of two, strong, muscular hands on her shoulders, but her heart rate accelerated and pounded in her chest.

  "Talk about stubborn.” She folded her arms across her chest and tried to hide her reaction to Rocky's touch. “Try him again—please."

  Rocky's face darkened to a shade of deep red. He backed off a step. Was he as confused as she was?

  "Sure thing.” Again he punched the
number, listened, then shook his head. “No answer, just the voice mail."

  "I'm really worried. I know. I'll call the house. Someone always answers. I don't know why I didn't think of that first."

  "Well, you'll see I'm right."

  "Men. You're so obstinate.” She turned away to make the call. Was her face as flushed as his? If the heat she felt was any indication, it was. Oh, God, how could she be worrying about being embarrassed when the father of her son might be in danger?

  "I think we're pretty evenly matched—stubborn-wise, I mean."

  A smile tugged at her mouth, while she wondered what he meant by ‘evenly matched.’ Was he making light of her concerns or just...? Heck. What was the matter with her, anyway?

  Rocky waited as she dialed the Carltons’ number. Apprehension grew and settled in the pit of her stomach.

  Busy. She frowned and tried the number again. Maybe she's made a mistake.

  Busy again. She turned to Rocky. “I don't understand. I'm getting a busy signal. They have several lines. They can't all be busy."

  Rocky started pacing about the room. “If Mike needs me, he needed me an hour ago.” Shaking his head, he smacked the palm of his hand with his fist. “A day late and a dollar short. Dang it. I hate being caught off-guard."

  "What are you going to do? Should we call the authorities in Virginia?"

  "Yes, you call them, and I'll call a buddy of mine that runs a chopper service. He can probably help me."

  "Oh, thank you.” Without thinking, Marina tiptoed and kissed him on a rough, stubbly cheek.

  "Oh—sorry.” She grew more flustered than ever; her face heated up like it was Fourth of July fireworks. “I didn't mean..."

  The security specialist grinned. “Well, you really make me hate to leave. And no apology necessary. I didn't mind that kiss one little bit."

  "Well, uh—” To hide her embarrassment, Marina glanced at her watch. “Please hurry."

  He nodded. “I know. But when I come back—uh, I wonder if maybe you'll allow me to take you and Adam out to dinner and a movie."

  Marina smiled. “I'd like that."

  "Okay, I'll call my friend from the SUV. You lock yourself in and don't come out for anything or anybody. Understand?"

  "Yes, Rocky, I understand."

  "Okay. I'm outta here."

  * * * *

  Marina closed the door behind Rocky and locked the deadbolt. Even if it was a secure building, she wasn't taking any chances.

  So he wanted to take her and Adam to dinner and a movie. That sort of came out of the blue. She couldn't deny that he was awfully nice and had such pretty blue eyes. And long, curling lashes. Ready with a smile and a laugh, in spite of his gruff voice.

  "Whoa, girl, you're letting your imagination run away.” Maybe it was time she had a real date. And he wanted Adam to come along—very low-key, and a very smart move, Mr. Rockford.

  Adam tugged at Marina's elbow. “Mommy, I'm hungry."

  "You are, are you? Well, let's check the fridge and see what we have."

  "I want a hot dog."

  She peeked into the freezer. “How about some homemade vegetable soup?"

  "Sou-u-p? Not with veg-uh-bles,” her son whined in mock protest. They'd played this little game before.

  "You know you like vegetables—"

  The rest of her sentence was cut off by a knock at the door. “See there, Rocky's come back. He must've forgotten something.” She rushed for the door, unlocked and opened it.

  The doorway was filled by a mountain of a man—but it wasn't Rocky.

  Forty-one

  "In the house!” Mike yelled. “Now!” Two choppers hovering in the air, suspiciously low. Not military issue. Not good.

  His grim-faced mother shepherded the other guests inside. As a child, she'd weathered the London Blitz. Nothing phased her.

  Gwyn? From the corner of his eye, he saw her—pale, but not panicked—pushing his father's wheelchair, while the old man shouted orders into a com device. “Secure the perimeter and deploy the rest to the house. Two choppers. Estimate fifteen each, max."

  Mike reached into his jacket and pulled out his pistol. Dropping behind a large planter, he watched his father's men as they spread out, assuming defensive positions. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he wouldn't have believed it. His father maintained what amounted to a small army—most of them retired Navy Seals.

  Sheriff Bauer sidled up to Mike. “What's everyone getting so excited for?"

  "Down, you idiot. Can't you see we're under attack?"

  "Attack? All I see is some whirly birds—” Bauer broke off as ropes snaked down from the choppers, quickly followed by men in military-style gear.

  "Mercenaries.” Mike checked the clip and jammed it into the handle. “They're too well-trained to be anything else.

  "I'll be damned.” Bauer drew his gun and dropped down by Mike. “What's this all about, Carlton?"

  "Not sure,” Mike said through gritted teeth. Nice time for Bauer to get chatty.

  "Thieves, I guess. Damn. I guess your folks got a lot of fine stuff. That's the way it is now. Modern thieves."

  Mike shook his head. “I think this is more personal than someone looking for a rich score."

  "Who've you pissed off?” Bauer shook his head, showing his disgust. “I knew you'd come to no good."

  "This isn't the time."

  A spray of automatic gunfire erupted, cutting off further conversation. A spitting sound as a shell struck above Mike's head. “Damn. I've only got one clip. How are you set for ammo?"

  Bauer snorted. “I'm all right for a while. Guess you'll have to make ‘em all count, boy."

  * * * *

  Reflexively, Marina stepped back, then immediately regretted it. Her caller took the advantage and walked right into the apartment.

  Where's Adam? She had to protect him.

  "Who're you?” Marina opened her mouth to scream, but thought better of it. No need to scare her son if the man just had the wrong apartment. “You can't come in here."

  "For that, I apologize, Miss. But I'm afraid I must insist."

  "No, you can't.” She attempted a shove, but he was as immovable as a mountain.

  The intruder reached inside his jacket. “Just keep still, and everything will be all right, Miss Vadim."

  "Y-you know who I am? What do you want? I-I don't keep a lot of money here, but you can have what there is,” she bargained. Pure instinct told her he wasn't a thief. No, he was much worse. Power emanated from him in cold, chilling waves that sent shivers up and down her spine.

  "Let's just say someone powerful wants me to keep an eye on you for him."

  "Really? If it were my father, he would've warned me you were coming."

  "I'm not from your father or the father of your son."

  "Who then?"

  "It doesn't matter. Let's say you and the boy are collateral for a loan that's being called in."

  Marina swallowed the lump of cotton that had formed in her throat. “I don't think I like the sound of that."

  "Where's the boy?"

  "I left him in Virginia w-with his grandparents."

  "Nice try, Miss Vadim, but I saw you bring him into the building just a few minutes ago."

  "Who are you?” The man's polite demeanor didn't ameliorate the evil waves she sensed—if anything, it made it worse. Now, if Adam would just stay quietly in the kitchen, but no—

  "Mommy!” came her son's shrill voice from the kitchen.

  The intruder didn't say anything, but the muscles in his face tightened. His hooded eyes seemed to bore right through her. Her stomach clenched as if she'd been struck.

  She lowered her voice in an attempt to not frighten her son. “I want you to leave. I don't want—"

  "Miss Vadim, I'm afraid your wishes can't be taken into account. I have my instructions. I'm here to ensure that you and the boy remain comfortable—and safe."

  "Go to your room,” she yelled, hoping to prevent Adam's coming in
to the living room and seeing the intruder. “It's time for your nap."

  But no, her son shuffled from the hall into the living room. He tugged on her jacket, ignoring the ominous stranger. “But I'm hungry."

  Why had she sent Rocky away? Why hadn't she listened to Mike? Hands shaking, she tried again to get between the intruder and the front door. “I'll fix you some soup."

  "No, I want a hamburger."

  "Why don't you fix the boy what he wants?"

  She glared at the man. “We don't have any hamburger. We've been out of town. I need to shop."

  "I'll have groceries brought in."

  Damn. He had an answer for everything. She watched in silence as he pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket. He spoke so softly she could barely make out his words. “Send someone over with groceries."

  Then he leveled his dead brown eyes on her. “Call your doorman. Tell him you're expecting a delivery. And don't try anything funny."

  "Wouldn't think of it,” she muttered under her breath.

  The corner of his mouth crooked up. “Sense of humor. That'll make things easier."

  "Well, certainly, I should make things easier for you, right? I let you in the damned door, didn't I? That was easy, too. Wasn't it?"

  "Mommy, you said a bad word."

  Marina leaned down to Adam. “Shush. Go to your room, son, please."

  "All right, I'll go.” Adam turned and reluctantly dragged each step down the hall to his room.

  Marina heaved a sigh of relief.

  "Call your doorman, now,” the huge man ordered.

  She glared up at him. “Fine."

  After she'd done as instructed, she turned to him. “All right, at least tell me your name. What am I supposed to call you—armed intruder that I wish would disappear off the face of the Earth?"

  "Names are highly overrated."

  "I'm not interested in your opinion. I just want to call you something."

  "I don't think I'll be here long enough for the Stockholm syndrome to take effect."

  She folded her arms across her chest. “You have that right."

  "A little spirit is admirable, but I wouldn't push it, Miss Vadim."

  "Sorry. And here I thought I was acting like the perfect doormat."

  His gaze narrowed. “Perhaps you ought to sit."