Undercover Protector

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  “And you went there again more recently.” He said it with no force and no accusation, but guilt still stabbed at Nadine.

  But she made herself nod. “I did. And not just when I took Reggie there while I was trying to figure out if she and Brayden were working with Garibaldi. When I first got back into town, it’s one of the first places I stopped. I stood outside for a long time. On multiple days. I just thought it might help me remember. Exposure or something.”

  “It didn’t work.”

  “No. Nothing came to me. So I took it one step further and I snuck into the basement. I found the renovated room. And I couldn’t make sense of it. I mean, I knew the explosion that destroyed the original cellar was real. Garibaldi told me about it while I was still at the hospital. But the setup down there...” She trailed off, thinking of her puzzlement at the odd, underground room.

  “You were expecting something else?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” She took a breath and lifted her eyes to his.

  “What’s wrong, honey?”

  She exhaled. “Promise you won’t pass judgment because of what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

  “How can I promise you that when I don’t know what you’re going to say?” he teased.

  “I’m serious, Anderson.”

  He touched her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Hey. You know me better than to think I’m going to pass judgment on you.”

  “It’s just silly.”

  “Tell me.”

  She dropped her gaze. “I dream about it.”

  He didn’t release her chin. “About what?”

  “About the way it was in that room. The dark. The smell of smoke. And not just occasionally. All the time. The dreams are like fuzzy memories. Flashes that remind me of these pictures, actually. And they’re a hell of a lot more real than the story about the car accident.”

  “Because they are real,” he said firmly. “And these pictures could be proof of it. There’re still a few we haven’t looked at, but if you don’t want to, we can just ship them off to Harley and let him deal with it.”

  She didn’t even have to think about it. “No. We’ve come this far through them. I want to see what happened next.”

  She clicked onto the next shot. It was nothing but a blur. The one after was the same. But the final picture was a whole other story. It made her draw in a gasp and recoil from the computer. Because, startlingly, her own face filled the screen. It was a clearer photograph than all the others and showcased her younger self perfectly. Her hair was shoulder length, her bangs a blunt cut over her eyebrows. Black eyeliner smudged heavily across her lids, and the crimson lipstick she’d always preferred as a teen turned her mouth into a vibrant slash. But the picture was as disconcerting as it was clear.

  In the shot, her eyes were closed, her face flat against the packed-dirt ground. Her cheek, which was now scarred from the so-called accident that she couldn’t remember, was completely smooth.

  Unconsciously, she reached up to touch the rough skin. Anderson’s hand followed, his warm fingers closing over top of hers. Comfort flowed from his touch, and Nadine closed her eyes to lean into it.

  “Send them to Harley,” she said. “There has to be something in here that incriminates Garibaldi. Badly. If there wasn’t, he wouldn’t be coming after me to get it. He wouldn’t have let my dad and my brother use it as blackmail.”

  “I’ll call him now.”

  Regret at the loss of contact hit Nadine strangely hard. She opened her eyes to study Anderson as he dialed his partner’s number, then stood to pace the room as he spoke.

  She liked the way his presence filled the room.

  She liked how easy it was to fall into a pattern of trust.

  She even liked how the intensity of the very new feelings scared her a little.

  Because she knew it wasn’t really a fear of being hurt or betrayed. Anderson was open and honest. Protective and kind. So the fear was more about letting herself give in to the feelings. Though, if she was being honest, it was more a crash than a gentle slide.

  All I have to do is jump.

  She didn’t realize she’d murmured the thought aloud until Anderson paused in front of her, his hand over the receiver on the phone. “Jump into what?”

  She opened her mouth, unsure if she was going to brush it off or admit that she’d been thinking about how easy it would be to fall in love with him. But she didn’t get a chance to say anything. A loud thump on the door cut her off. Fear—and not the exciting kind this time—slammed into her chest.

  * * *

  Anderson’s chest compressed at the fear in Nadine’s eyes. He wanted to reassure her, but his gut told him that it was too soon to do it. He wanted to offer her hope. But not false hope.

  “Harley,” he said softly into the phone. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Everything all right?” his friend replied.

  “Not sure yet. Someone’s at the door, and we weren’t expecting company.” As if to emphasize his statement, the solid knock echoed through the room again. “Call you back in a few.” He clicked off the phone and turned his attention to Nadine. “Grab the flash drive.”

  She held out her palm, the USB stick already in her hand. “Got it.”

  “Good. Head to the bedroom.”

  “What?”

  “Trust me.”

  “I do, but...” She cast a concerned look toward the door.

  “I’ll be fine,” he promised.

  “Okay.” She still sounded uncertain, but she pushed to her feet and complied with his request.

  Exhaling, and hoping for the best, Anderson crept across the floor to peer through the peephole. What he saw on the other side sent more than a lick of worry through him. Two men stood in the hall. One was dressed in the standard Whispering Woods Lodge staff uniform. The other wore a suit, and his head turned twice as Anderson watched—once up the hall, then down. He held his hand near his hip in a way that implied that a weapon most likely waited there for easy retrieval. And he looked ready to use it.

  Anderson eased away from the door, eyeing the swing lock near the top third of the frame. It was in the locked position, but he knew from experience that it was really there for peace of mind. Anyone with five minutes and a bit of patience could jimmy it free. Or kick their way through if patience and time happened to be in short supply.

  The real problem was the fact that it was locked at all.

  He brought his hand up, grasped the cool metal, and tugged it slowly and silently open. He heard Nadine’s indrawn breath, and he turned to find her standing in the bedroom doorway.

  “What did you just do?” she whispered.

  Ignoring her stunned expression, he strode over to the laptop, unplugged it, then tucked it under the couch.

  “C’mon.” He threaded his fingers through hers to pull her to the bedroom. “I said to trust me.”

  She freed her hand. “And I do. But you just unlocked the door.”

  “I’m giving us a fighting chance at staying hidden.”

  “Hidden?”

  He swung open the closet door. “Believe it or not, this is the second time I’ve been in here today.”

  “What?”

  He gestured for her to step in. “Hid from the maid this morning.”

  She stepped forward, her frown evident even as the darkness of the closet took over. “You’re not making any sense, Anderson.”

  He followed her, closing the door gently behind the two of them. He took her face between his hands and gave her a swift kiss, then turned her so that she was tucked more comfortably against him, her back to his chest.

  “There’re two guys out in the hall,” he said into her ear. “Could have a legitimate reason for being here. But probably not.”

  Her voice, the barest whisper, carried back. “So yo
u decided to make it easier for them to get in?”

  “If I left it locked, they’d know without a doubt that we’re in here. This gives us the tiniest advantage.”

  “And that’s why you hid the laptop, too?”

  “More plausible that we’d tuck it away.”

  “Smart.”

  “I like to think so.”

  “Modesty will—”

  Anderson brought his hand up to Nadine’s mouth as the muffled sound of someone entering the room cut through. The slight noise was followed by silence.

  Then a male voice called out, “Housekeeping!”

  In the dark, Anderson narrowed his eyes. Yeah, right.

  “Mr. Smith?” said the voice, using the pseudonym Anderson had given at check-in. “Are you here? Sorry to barge in like this, but someone requested some extra blankets?”

  There was a pause.

  “I really don’t think they’re here.”

  A second, deeper voice—quieter but still easily audible—answered. “His truck’s in the underground parking lot. Saw it myself a half hour ago.”

  “Yeah,” said the first man. “But I told you that when the woman left this morning, it was in a cab. Not in the truck.”

  “And I told you that I’m damned sure I saw him in town.”

  “Maybe it was a mistake.”

  “I don’t make that kind of mistake.”

  “So maybe he went with her in the cab. I didn’t see him, but I do make the odd mistake.”

  Shuffling—furniture being moved, maybe?—dominated for a moment.

  “What’d you find?” asked the first man.

  “Computer.”

  “You gonna load it up?”

  “Yeah. Why don’t you check the bedroom?”

  “Sure.”

  Anderson tensed as footfalls got closer and closer. He felt Nadine’s body do the same, and he ran his hands up and down her arms soothingly. Instead of the sounds of a search, though, there was just the sound of the bed sinking in. It took Anderson only a second to figure out what was happening. The guy in the hotel uniform had no interest in looking through the room—he was already convinced that the suite was empty, so he was just waiting it out.

  Sure enough, a second later, he called to the man in the other room, “Find anything interesting in there?”

  The reply came back immediately, frustration evident in both tone and words. “Not a damned thing. Looks like the laptop’s only just been set up.”

  The bed creaked again. “Nothing in here, either. Checked under the bed. In the closet, and the shower. Felt like an idiot doing it.”

  “Thoroughness never equates to idiocy.”

  The second man’s voice was closer now, and Anderson squeezed Nadine tighter. Without knowing a single other thing, he was damned sure that the man with the deeper voice was the more dangerous of the two.

  “Who do you think he is?” The question came from a spot right beside the closet where they hid.

  The hotel employee answered right away. “No idea. Boyfriend?”

  “She doesn’t have one. Not according to her records, anyway.”

  “They keep that kind of stuff in a file somewhere?”

  “Not official records, you idiot. Garibaldi’s records. He’s kept pretty good tabs on her.”

  At the sound of the man’s name, one of Nadine’s hands slid back to Anderson’s thigh. He dropped his own hand over top and help on tightly.

  “We should go,” the first man stated.

  “Not yet,” said the second.

  “Just because they’re not here now doesn’t mean they won’t be back any second.”

  “Avoiding a confrontation isn’t on the top of my list of priorities.”

  “Mr. Garibaldi said—”

  “I heard what he said. And I wouldn’t upset his precious little hotel. I just want another minute to look around.”

  Anderson tensed again. Through the slats, he could see the suited man slowly circling the room.

  “Doesn’t even look like anyone’s staying here,” he muttered. “Bed doesn’t look slept in. Bag’s zipped up. You said they made a request for no housekeeping?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who rents the honeymoon suite, then doesn’t take advantage of all the perks?”

  “Guy’s been living at the Whispering Woods care center taking care of the Stuart girl, right?”

  “Even so.”

  A drawer slid out, its rolling tracks slicing noisily through the air. Anderson’s throat went dry at the idea that the second man might start the search over again, only this time for real. The precariousness of their situation made his chest compress. If something happened to Nadine on his watch, he’d never forgive himself.

  So make sure that it doesn’t.

  He closed his eyes for a second, inventorying their situation.

  His gun was holstered at his side—he wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving himself without it a second time—so that was good. He couldn’t say he had the same confidence about Nadine’s position. To be better protected, she needed to be behind him rather than the other way around.

  Too late to change now.

  It was true. There wasn’t enough room inside the small space to jockey around. Not if they wanted to keep quiet, too. He’d just have to wait. Be ready to react. He’d use surprise as his weapon, and his body as a shield.

  Whatever it takes to make sure Nadine gets out alive.

  Opening his eyes revealed just how close the two men stood. The uniformed hotel employee was near enough that Anderson could see the five o’clock shadow on his face. A shallow inhale brought the sour smell of smoke wafting in, too. The other man was just as close, but he faced away from the closet. Anderson studied him, searching for a hint as to his role or some further insight into his motivation.

  The man’s hair was cropped short. Dark, but peppered with gray. His jacket was designer—a logo Anderson recognized but not one he could name. He held himself confidently.

  No. Not confidently. Arrogantly.

  That was a more apt word.

  He had money or power. Or both.

  Then the man turned, and Anderson realized that the logo wasn’t the only thing he recognized. The man’s face was one he’d seen just this morning.

  Chapter 13

  Nadine felt Anderson go rigid behind her, and she knew the change in his demeanor had something to do with the man standing just outside the closet. Nervously she tried to see what he saw. She focused her gaze on the fortysomething man in the expensive jacket as he spoke in a low voice to the guy in the hotel uniform. He looked the slightest bit familiar, but she thought that might be because there was nothing terribly distinctive about his features. He had an average face, an average build and an average level of attractiveness. The kind of man who would blend into a crowd.

  Wishing she could ask Anderson what had caused him to tense up the second he laid eyes on the man, Nadine drew in a silent breath and then paused. A smoky scent filled her nose, and her mind pricked up with some unidentified hint of memory. Before she could pinpoint its source, the well-dressed man turned. And as Nadine spied his profile, she almost gasped. Though it’d been unnoticeable when he was facing them head-on, the new angle showcased a mottled bruise on the side of his head. A slash of red marked his jaw, too, turning him from average to fearsome.

  Nadine inhaled again, trying to calm the syncopated rhythm of her heart. But the influx of air only brought with it more of the smoke-tinged smell. And with the second taste of it, Nadine placed the man. And her pulse surged with renewed fear.

  It was him. The man who’d lit her mom’s home on fire. She’d only caught the briefest glimpse of his face—and even then, it had been with his head pressed to the ground, his jaw slack and his eyes shut—but she was certain it was hi
m.

  What was he doing there? How had he managed to walk away from the scene of the crime?

  His next words distracted her from thinking about it. “Be nice if we could get some answers before the police connect the two of them.”

  The hotel employee’s response was tinged with worry. “You think that’ll be soon? Because I’d really rather not cross paths with the local cops.”

  “Relax. I didn’t give them a reason to come looking for Mr. Smith or whatever the hell his real name is. I dropped enough hints that the entire thing lies on Ms. Stuart’s shoulders. They’ll have to put the pieces together themselves.”

  It was Nadine’s turn to stiffen. And even Anderson’s gentle squeeze of her arm didn’t help her relax.

  The man out there hadn’t just burned down her mom’s apartment. He’d made the police think it was her fault. He was still talking about it. Saying that they’d be looking for her. That they’d probably have gone to her own apartment already and asked around at the hospital, too.

  But it wasn’t fear that made her bristle. It was anger. She was so mad that she wouldn’t have been able to string together a sentence even if she’d been in a spot where she could speak. Her hands balled into fists, and her arms shook.

  He blamed me, she thought furiously. That son of a—

  “Nadine.”

  At the sound of her name, she twitched back in surprise. Anderson’s hands came up to steady her, and as she leaned back into his embrace, she realized that the bedroom was empty.

  “They’re gone,” Anderson said softly. “I heard the door close. I just want to give it a minute to make sure they’re not coming back.”

  She breathed out. “That was the man who burned down my mom’s house.”

  “I recognized him, too.”

  “He told the police it was me.”

  “I know, sweetheart. But it’s not all bad.”

  “How do you figure? They’re going to come looking for me, Anderson. They’ll find me and arrest me, and instead of being able to get answers or justice, I’ll just end up in jail. Or worse.”