Undercover Protector

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  * * *

  “Time to run,” Anderson announced.

  And Nadine didn’t have to be told twice. The urgency in his voice was enough to propel her into overdrive.

  Their feet hit the concrete, her steps at a quick, light tap, and his at a thick smack.

  Clutching the laptop to her chest, Nadine counted off the flights and landings and stairs in her head, trying to use the reassuring numbers to anchor her staccato heart.

  Floor three.

  Nine stairs.

  Landing one.

  Above them, the door slammed open.

  Nine steps more.

  Floor two.

  A male voice echoed through the stairwell, the words indistinct.

  Six stairs.

  Booted feet landed on concrete, the sound almost drowning out the noise they were making themselves.

  Three stairs.

  Landing two.

  It was impossible to say if their pursuers were gaining ground.

  Five stairs.

  She almost tripped, but Anderson’s grip kept her steady.

  Four steps more.

  Floor one.

  Nadine moved to keep going—to head down even farther to the underground parking lot where the rental car awaited—but Anderson stopped abruptly on the first-floor landing. With a quick glance up, he released her hand, then pushed hard on the door. It opened with a rush of warm air. But he didn’t pull her through it. Instead, he grabbed her hand again and tugged her to next set of steps. This time, they moved slowly. Silently. And when they reached the next landing, Nadine realized that the opening of the door had been a diversion.

  She drew in a deep breath as Anderson stopped, pressed his index finger to his lips in a “keep quiet” gesture, then tipped his ear up. Moments later, the slam of boots stopped just above, perfectly timing with the echo of the door closing.

  There was the briefest pause before a man’s gruff voice said, “They must’ve just gone through here.”

  “You sure that was her?” a second man replied.

  “Petite blonde with short hair. What’re the chances there’s two of them running around in her building?”

  “What’s the guy’s story?”

  “Dunno. Guess we’ll find out when we catch up to them. Come on. This conversation is a waste of time.”

  There was another rush of air—buffered this time by the vertical distance between them and the door—and the footsteps resumed, then faded, then disappeared as it shut once more.

  Nadine exhaled, and Anderson shot her a nod and second-long smile before he pointed to the rest of the stairs. She nodded back, and they resumed their descent. Their pace was still hurried, but also hushed now, too. Nadine was almost afraid to speak—she didn’t want to jinx their momentary success at escaping. But as they got nearer to the car, her worry got the better of her.

  “Do you think it’s safe to drive out of here?” she asked.

  “Safe might be too strong a word,” Anderson acknowledged. “But going on foot’s not any better an option.”

  “We could sneak away easier.”

  “And be stuck without a vehicle?” He stopped on the passenger’s side, unlocked her door and then pulled it open. “We’re not even sure where we’re going.”

  “I guess you’re right,” she conceded as she climbed in. “But if Garibaldi’s guys have more friends outside...”

  Anderson frowned down at her. “Garibaldi’s guys? You mean from back there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Those weren’t his thugs, sweetheart. They were cops.”

  She felt her stomach drop. “What?”

  “Those were policemen.”

  “Why didn’t they identify themselves?”

  He shrugged. “Hard to say what they were yelling when they came into the stairwell. Could’ve been ‘Whispering Woods PD.’”

  “How can you be so glib?”

  “Hang on, all right?”

  She waited impatiently while he closed her door, then stepped around to the other side of the car and got into the driver’s seat.

  “I’m not being glib,” he said as he put the key in the ignition and started the car.

  “Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered.

  “I’m a cop, too,” he reminded her. “We don’t tend to come in with our guns blazing. Especially if we’re not entirely sure of the situation. Those two uniforms were probably here because Garibaldi’s actual guys—the ones from the lodge—reported you as an arsonist, remember?”

  “Yeah, it’s a little hard to forget,” she replied. “But now I look guilty because we ran from them.”

  “I’m honestly not even sure if they knew we were running. You heard them arguing about whether or not it was you.”

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “My job is to find answers.” He stopped the car at the exit and waited for the gate to lift. “Did you want to stop and talk to them? Because if that’s really what you want to do...”

  She rolled her eyes. “No. I’m not totally insane.”

  “Good.” They started rolling forward again. “Because trying to explain ourselves would slow us down at best, and halt us completely at worst.”

  “Of course, now they’re going to be trying even harder to find me,” she pointed out.

  “That’s probably true.”

  “I was hoping you would say I was wrong.”

  “That’d make me a liar.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Hide.”

  “I thought we were already hiding.”

  “So now we hide better.”

  Nadine bit her lip to keep from blowing out yet another breath, this one frustrated. “I’m tired of hiding.”

  Anderson reached over and gave her knee a squeeze. “Not my favorite, either.”

  “So where are we headed now?”

  “It’s your town. Got any ideas?”

  “Not specifically, but I think we should get as far away from—Wait.”

  “What?”

  “When Brayden came in, he rented a cabin out at this place on the edge of town. Garibaldi owns them, but like you said about the hotel... He probably won’t be looking under his own nose. And unlike the lodge, the cabins have none of Garibaldi’s staff hanging around, waiting to give us away.”

  “You’re right. That’s perfect.”

  He tipped on the turn signal, and for a few minutes they drove on in silence. Not awkwardly. Nadine was sure that no matter what hung over them, it could never be uncomfortable between them. But the current quiet wasn’t quite pleasant, either.

  She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to sound so hopeless.”

  “You’re frustrated,” Anderson said easily. “I get it. I am, too. But we’re making progress.”

  “We are?”

  “Yes.”

  She’d fixed her gaze out the front windshield, but she could feel his eyes on her. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what? And how do you even know how I’m looking at you?” he wondered aloud.

  “Like you think you can make it better. And because I know you.”

  “That statement makes me indescribably happy. Well, the second part, anyway.”

  “You know what would make me indescribably happy?”

  “What?”

  “If you reminded me of what progress we’ve made.”

  “I saved you from being run over. And from being kidnapped.”

  “Is that progress? Because it just sounds like you’re being all proud of yourself for being heroic.”

  “I haven’t finished,” he informed her.

  She couldn’t stop a smile from creeping up. “Well, please. Carry on.”

  “Thank you
. Very gracious of you.” He shot her an exaggerated wink that made her want to laugh.

  “Just get it over with.”

  “You can’t rush indescribable happiness. So. After I made myself indispensable to you, we recovered the USB stick—proof that your dad and brother were blackmailing Garibaldi. We found out that whatever the man’s up to, it has some strange connection to painting. And we learned enough about Garibaldi’s plan that we know to avoid the police until this is over. I think we’re doing pretty damned well. And if none of that makes you indescribably happy, there’s the other thing we accomplished. Maybe the most important thing, actually.”

  “Which thing is that?”

  “You really don’t remember?”

  She frowned. “No.”

  “We fell in love.”

  Chapter 16

  As he pulled the car off the long stretch of paved road and onto the hard-packed dirt road that led to the cabins, Anderson noted a sudden change in the sky. It went from cloud-dotted to gray in a matter of moments, and by the time they reached the clearing that housed the rustic homes the rain had already started to come down heavily. The short run from the vehicle to the main cabin was enough to soak them all the way through.

  “First things first,” he said as he opened the unlocked front door. “I channel my inner lumberjack and get a fire started. You channel your inner pioneer woman and find a way to make us something hot to drink.”

  “I don’t think either of those descriptions truly applies,” Nadine responded, “but I’ll agree because I’m freezing cold already.”

  They got to work, and Anderson was pleased that it really only took a few minutes to organize themselves. As the fire—built with pre-chopped kindling, ready-made fire-starter and a couple of thick logs—roared to life, Nadine set down two mugs of steaming liquid.

  “Instant soup,” she said. “A meal and a beverage.”

  Anderson kissed her nose. “Perfect. I’ll grab a blanket from the closet if you want to get us set up on the laptop?”

  “The romance of file sharing?”

  “Exactly.”

  Two minutes more, and they were tucked together under a thick piece of fleece with the laptop balanced on their adjoining knees. Nadine had stripped off her outer layer, and her soft curves pressed into Anderson in a way that made him want to toss aside the laptop, forget about the pictures altogether and kiss her until neither of them had anything else on their minds. It took a significant amount of willpower to keep from doing so.

  Plenty of time after, he said to himself, pulling her a little closer when she shivered.

  He waited until she was done setting it up—using his own cell phone to create a mobile Wi-Fi hot spot—before asking, “How’s it look?”

  “Good. I think. The history says no one’s logged in since before I went into the care center,” she said. “Assuming, of course, that whoever broke into my apartment wasn’t some kind of crazy computer genius who could override things or hide them or whatever.”

  “I wouldn’t want to assume that they weren’t, but I do think it’s unlikely.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Confident that we can send the pictures to Harley?”

  “Mostly confident. And it’s not like we really have a choice. We need to figure out the connection between my dad and the photos, and to figure out what it all means to Garibaldi.”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, then. Here it goes.”

  She plugged in the USB stick, logged in to her email, then typed in Harley’s address as Anderson provided it and hit Send.

  “How long do you think it’ll take him?” she asked.

  “He’s quick,” Anderson replied. “But thorough, too. He’ll probably let us know the second he has anything concrete. A good hour, maybe?”

  “Okay. So what do we do while we wait?”

  “We sit back. We eat our soup. Maybe play a board game?”

  “Seriously?”

  “No.”

  She turned a puzzled look his way, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Come here.”

  “Come where?” she asked. “I’m already about as close to you as I can get.”

  “We both know that’s not true,” he teased.

  A pretty blush crept up her cheeks, and he adjusted so that he could cup her face with his hands and stroke his thumbs over the pink in her skin. He bent to give her a soft kiss.

  “The soup,” she protested as he pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers.

  “I like it cold,” he told her.

  “You do?”

  “I do now.”

  He leaned in again, tipping his head sideways so he could give her mouth a little more thorough attention. She let out a little gasp as he traced her lips with his tongue.

  “I kind of like this cabin life,” he murmured between kisses.

  “Do you?” she said back, her voice making his mouth vibrate. “How can you be sure? We’ve only been here for fifteen minutes.”

  “Crackling fire. No interruptions. Girl of my dreams.” He slid his hands to her hips and pulled her down so that her back was almost flat on the couch. “What’s not to like?”

  Her fingers came up to the bottom of his shirt, and in an impressively adept move, she tugged it up and over his head, then tossed it aside. Her palms landed on his chest.

  “I guess I can’t complain too much,” she said.

  “But you can complain a little?” he replied. “Please. Tell me what’s lacking, and I’ll make it up in some other way.”

  “Well. There’s the fact that you’re wearing pants. And the fact that I’m wearing pants.”

  “That’s easy enough to undo.” He reached for the button on her jeans.

  “Was that a pun?” she asked accusingly.

  “Possibly.”

  “Great. Now I can complain about your groan-worthy jokes, too.”

  “Groan-worthy? That sounds dirty.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It wasn’t meant to.”

  “Too bad. That’s how I’m interpreting it.”

  He grinned, popped open the button, then dropped down to lift her tank top and plant a kiss just above her belly button. Her responding inhale was sharp, and a line of goose bumps lifted over her skin.

  “Still complaining?” he said, yanking her zipper open and dragging his lips to the top of her panty line.

  She mumbled something incomprehensible.

  He darted his tongue across the lace. “Sorry. I missed that last bit.”

  “Not complaining,” she gasped.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes!”

  “Good.”

  And he grabbed the waistband of her jeans, determined to make sure she couldn’t even pretend to be dissatisfied for a moment longer.

  * * *

  Nadine wriggled backward on the couch, tucking her rear end a little more firmly against Anderson’s thighs. Her body ached a little, and her soup was definitely cold. But her heart was full.

  “You’re right.” She said it softly, not wanting to break the spell of contentedness that hung in the room.

  “Not that I want to argue...” Anderson replied. “But what am I right about?”

  “Cabin life is nice.”

  “Very nice.”

  “Maybe we could live like this permanently.”

  “Mmm. Preferably in something we don’t have to buy from Garibaldi, though.”

  “I just assumed that went without saying.”

  She frowned. “What happens to the stuff he owns?”

  He smoothed the hair off her forehead. “When he’s busted, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “His assets will be frozen and seized, and he’ll forfeit the rights. Then they’ll probably be auctioned off. It’s a long pr
ocess that makes me glad I’m not a lawyer. Why are you asking? Does Garibaldi have something you want?”

  “No. I was thinking of Reggie and Brayden, actually. Because Garibaldi kind of took the Frost Family Diner right out from under Reggie’s dad.”

  “All those details will come out when he’s taken to trial.”

  “You always sound so sure. You say ‘when’ every time. Never ‘if.’”

  He shifted, pulling them both up to a sitting position. “That’s because I am sure. It took us fifteen years to find him. It took Brayden all of a week to figure out—without a doubt—that the man’s business here is shady.”

  She met his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “What happened before? With the first charges?”

  “Good cops were killed. Good lawyers got the killer off. Garibaldi was a minor—barely—when he set off that bomb. It made things easier, and the case was actually dismissed because so much of the evidence was ruled as inadmissible.”

  “Do you know why he set off that first bomb?”

  “We didn’t before. Not really, anyway. But it was your brother and you who gave us the big tip,” Anderson explained. “The info came to Brayden from Tyler. Did he or Reggie tell you much about it?”

  “No,” she said. “They were tied up in their thing, and then I was injured.”

  “Well. Your dad and Jesse Garibaldi’s dad worked together. Something happened—at a drug bust, actually—and the senior Garibaldi was killed. We think Jesse was going after revenge.”

  “So your dad was in the group that busted his dad?”

  “That’s what we believe. But Harley couldn’t find a record of it, and as you’re aware...he’s damn good at that part of his job.”

  “And Jesse Garibaldi was just a kid.”

  “Seventeen when he set off the bomb. He’s actually only three years older than I am, but I was most definitely far more of a child than he was at the time. My dad’s murder is probably the only reason I grew up when I did.”

  As he said the words, a heartbreaking, gut-wrenching thought hit Nadine. And she knew it must’ve shown in her expression, because Anderson’s face filled with concern.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

  “My dad,” she said, the words catching in her throat. “He was Jesse Garibaldi’s driver. Those pictures he had... Anderson, he drove Garibaldi to the station to bomb it. My father was an accessory to your father’s murder.”