Slater's Revenge

by Claudia Shelton

  Josh raised his hand. “I don’t need to know all of this.”

  “Too bad. You opened the door. Now you’re gonna listen.” She emptied the coffee pot, loaded a reasonable amount of coffee in a new filter, and pushed brew. “Blake never loved me. Probably didn’t even care. To the world, he was the attentive fiancé. Out of public view, he went his way, I went mine. We never shared the same bed. And only kissed once during the whole pretend engagement.”

  She held her cup under the stream of brewed coffee. “Funny thing is, there were times we actually enjoyed each other’s company. Times we laughed. But, marriage never would have happened. We were convenient partners in a scenario that would have lasted forever if he hadn’t died.”

  Realizing she was hungry, she pulled eggs and bacon from the refrigerator. Bread from the pantry. Josh followed her example and grabbed a cup of coffee before replacing the pot. Seeming content with a moment of silence, he leaned back against the counter, watching her cook.

  “Now that you know my secrets, let’s talk about yours.” Mackenzie turned her attention to the bacon sizzling in the skillet. “What are your secrets, Josh Slater, or don’t you have any?”

  “Any secrets I have are on a very short need-to-know list.” He cracked the eggs and poured them into a smaller skillet. “You are not on the list. Let’s get back to who’s been here in the past five years.”

  Her mind raced between the things she’d just bared to Josh. Which had been worse? That she’d waited for him for years, or that she’d agreed to an engagement in name only? Neither seemed to matter to him.

  Her chauffeur Ed had been right—she got back up every time life knocked her down. Sometimes she might have taken unusual routes to stand the pain, but she’d kept her eye on the horizon. Always moved forward.

  Being a vice cop had kept her busy. Once she’d gotten to know the women on D Street, she’d actually enjoyed her job. Just like she enjoyed running Hotel MacKenzie. Loved hosting the annual charity ball her mother had started, which she’d expanded. The gala not only kept her in the know of where the money flowed in Riverfalls, but put food on the table for a lot of less fortunate people.

  She transferred the bacon onto the platter as Josh scooped the eggs on their plates. For some reason, she felt free. Freer than she had in ten years. She intended to stay that way. No more secrets, and no more pleasing people she didn’t want to please.

  Josh sipped his coffee, grimaced, and poured it in the sink. “Whew, that stuff tastes awful. Did you even put coffee in there?”

  “Let’s get something straight.” She waggled her fork in front of him. “This is my hotel. My penthouse. My coffeepot. I will make the coffee any damn way I like. Got it?”

  He nodded.

  She carried her plate to the table and took a seat. “If you don’t like my coffee, then go buy your own pot. Your own damn coffee, too.”

  Again he nodded then walked to his bedroom, returning seconds later with a pen and pad of paper plus his I’m-in-charge expression. She’d see about that. Just as she took a bite of eggs and bacon, he crouched beside her, bracing his arms on the tabletop as he pushed the paper and pen next to her plate.

  “Make a list of everyone who’s been in this penthouse in the past five years. Everyone.” He leaned farther into her space then tapped her nose. “Now. Have you got that?”

  She tried to chew fast. Faster. She couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t talk. He’d planned it that way. Gulping her orange juice, she struggled to tell him what a jerk he was, but came up coughing instead.

  Meanwhile, he took his plate of food from the counter and walked to the sliding door to the balcony. Glancing back, he laughed. “You always were a spitfire if someone made you mad.” He winked, along with a tiny jerk of his head and a half grin. “Cute. But still one hell of a spitfire.”

  Tossing her napkin in his direction, she shoved the pad of paper across the table. If he thought she planned to jump at his requests, he had another think coming. “Thank you for the ‘cute’ compliment. Too bad the same can’t be said about you.” She tossed the pen on top of the paper. “I’ll get you the list tomorrow.”

  “I need it within an hour.” Josh stepped out on the balcony.

  “Surely you don’t expect me to come up with everyone who’s ever visited.”

  “Give me the ones who pop in your head right off the bat.” He turned to close the door behind him then paused. “By the way, Drake said the security items I asked for should be here by ten.”

  She took another bite of food before pulling the pad and pen in front of her. There weren’t all that many people she’d ever allowed into her penthouse. This was her home and she tried to keep it separate from the world. Drake had warned her against letting people get too close. Now, she understood why.

  Josh paced back and forth on the balcony, shoveling food into his mouth as if fueling a car for a long drive. The next time she glanced outside, he was doing one-arm push-ups. How could she concentrate on making a list with the rhythmic distraction of his muscles, up and down, tensing, untensing? Then he added in claps. Then fingertips only.

  Suddenly, he stopped. Turned to face her and frowned. Balancing on one hand, he motioned to the list she was supposed to be working on. She pulled herself back from the view, but little did he know she’d already watched him doing pull-ups and bar crunches in the glow of the hall nightlight. He’d done them all hanging from a fitness bar he’d fitted to another guest bedroom doorway.

  Glancing down at the blank sheet, her will to defy him was outweighed by the knowledge that her life, Drake’s…and Josh’s were on the line. For the next hour, she scribbled every name she could remember. Made a note by some as to who they were.

  A hot breeze from the balcony was the first clue Josh had opened the door to come back inside. “You got that list?”

  “Yes.” She waved the pad in his direction.

  He took the paper from her as he walked to the sink. After depositing the dirty dishware, he grabbed a cup of coffee. He grimaced with the first gulp, but downed it all in three swallows. He reached to pour more.

  Patience thin, she jerked the pot from his hand. “Look at the list. I’ll make you a pot of coffee.”

  “Thanks.” He settled in at the table. “Did you write these as they came to you?”

  “Yes. Why?” She added extra scoops of coffee to the filter just for him.

  “This is everyone?” He ran his finger up and down the list again and again.

  “Everyone that I thought of in the past hour. Why?”

  “Cummings isn’t on this list. Why?” He stared into her eyes. “You don’t have to hide anything from me. If you two are having an affair, just say so.”

  She heard her own laughter before she realized she’d laughed. Grabbing the pen from the table, she leaned in and wrote Cummings’s name at the bottom of the list. “There, are you happy? He didn’t cross my mind, because he only came around when Blake was alive. For the record, Cummings isn’t my type.”

  Ask me. Ask me what my type is. Her emotions shouted to be heard. Her brain cautioned.

  Josh didn’t ask.

  She blew out a sigh. “Now, you answer my question. Why is it important how I put the names down?”

  With one swift, sure stroke, Josh tore the list in half and wrote “Cummings” at the top of the section he kept. “From my experience, the perpetrator is in the top group of people.”

  “Impossible.” Easing into the chair, the gravity of the situation set in. “These are my friends. My associates. People I trust.”

  “Well, one of them doesn’t deserve your loyalty.” He rammed his fist on the sheet of paper. “One of them is trying to kill you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Josh had spent the past few hours installing the security toys OPAQUE sent by fake UPS. He’d stopped only long enough to scan in the list of visitor names Mackenzie had compiled, then punched a few buttons on the scrambler to start the deep background check for each indivi
dual. If a red flag tagged one of the names, this case would be a lot easier. Not likely.

  After breakfast, Macki had insisted she needed to go to work in her office. He’d said no. She’d finally convinced him that death threat or not, she still had a hotel, a gala, and charities to run. Together, they had taken her personal elevator down to her office, loaded a few file boxes with work, and returned to the penthouse. She wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but had at least settled in at her writing desk to go over paperwork.

  All he had left to do was finish setting up security tools in the guest hallway outside her penthouse door. Hers was the only penthouse currently occupied on the floor, so she would—should—know everyone who stepped off the guest elevator. He still needed to be vigilant, because when the case called for it, he could bypass an elevator system in his sleep. So could CT.

  She followed him into the hallway. “What are you doing?”

  “Installing a laser beam that will send the system inside your place a signal that someone is in the hall.”

  “No one should be up here unless I buzz them up.”

  “Exactly. In fact, is this the only elevator that comes to this level?”

  “Yes. The others stop the floor below.”

  “Good. I want you to shut this one down.” He took in every detail of the hall as he worked. In the center was the elevator, and directly across were two double doors. He grabbed the handle to open them. They didn’t budge. “What’s behind here?”

  “A private freight elevator for moving furniture and such. I have the only keys to the doors and the run mechanism,” she answered. “It only serves this floor, so I keep it locked in place up here.”

  “Good.”

  They headed back inside at the same time, bumping against each other, squeezing through the doorway shoulder to shoulder till he stepped back and motioned her inside. Macki headed to the kitchen island where she’d set up her laptop. Shoving aside the tool chest Drake had shipped, Josh picked up her writing desk and carried it to the other side of the room.

  “What are you doing? I like to look outside while I work.”

  “Sorry. This is safer.”

  Rolling her eyes, she flicked him a sarcastic salute. “Fine, Mr. I’m-in-charge.”

  “Could you at least try to help me? Stop thinking like this is just another day in your life. You used to be a cop. Think like one. What if you were trying to keep someone alive?” He shot her a serious look. “Someone like you.”

  She glanced around the living room. Tilted her head to get a view from one place and then the other. “You’re right. The desk is better where you moved it. But do we really need all the surveillance equipment?”

  “Yes. Plus, there’s more being shipped tomorrow for the elevator and garage.” He started toward his ladder.

  “Don’t forget to move my boxes over,” she said. “By the way, how long do you plan to keep me cooped up?”

  “Till there’s a damn good reason to leave the hotel. Or till CT makes its next move.” Hoisting the remaining box on his shoulder, he cringed. “This thing weighs a ton. How’d you ever get this on the elevator?”

  She sheepishly grinned. “I put the empty box on the elevator, then filled it.”

  “Unbelievable.” He settled the box alongside the desk.

  “Hey, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  Josh considered hooking onto the friendly banter, but reconsidered. No matter what he said, he could get himself in trouble.

  She slowly turned to face him as he slipped between her and the desk. Her hands steadied against him as she lifted her face toward his, lips parted, her gaze darting between his eyes and his mouth. How had he gotten himself in this position?

  “What say we agree to be friends?” she said. “I mean, we aren’t exactly protector and client. We have history. If we agree to be friends, I think both of us will feel more at ease.”

  For him, he’d always be in protector mode. But if this would make her feel better, then he’d agree. Didn’t matter to him what they called their current situation—he called it risky as hell. They were walking dangerous ground—business and personal.

  “Friends? Okay, we’ll be friends. Nothing more.” Had his body learned nothing from the near catastrophe early this morning? Evidently not, because her draw on him was undeniable.

  Only now, the enticement wasn’t from the girl he’d known years ago; that part seemed to have been fulfilled by this morning’s escapade and denial. Now, his interest had switched to Macki the woman.

  “Agreed. Nothing more.” Her neck stretched upward, her lips straining to reach his. “Oh, come on. It’s one friendly little kiss to seal our pact. Friendship forever.”

  “Friendship forever.” What the hell was he doing?

  She closed her eyes and waited. Grasping her face between his hands, he lowered his mouth to hers and took in the woman. One slow, escalating, forgiveness-kiss of more than passion settled the past ten years that hung between them. Together, they ended the kiss.

  She smiled. “We should get back to work.”

  He swallowed. “Yeah. We should get back to work.”

  Over the next couple of hours, the two of them mastered the art of being in their own world and leaving the other alone.

  “There’s one thing I still need to do, but I want your permission.” He glanced in the direction of her bedroom then pointed at the sensor wire dangling by the living room light. “I’d like to—”

  “No. Absolutely not!” She raced to her bedroom and flung her arms across the doorway. Determined resistance etched her expression as she faced him. “Under no circumstances will I allow you to put surveillance doodads in my bedroom.”

  He let her stand there losing steam for about a minute. “I would never do that to you.”

  She lowered her arms, crossing them over her chest. “What do you need my permission for?”

  “I’d like to look around your bedroom. Plus, the master bath and your closet.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to be familiar with the layout of the place. Know the obstacles. The hiding places. Need to check for surveillance devices.”

  She blinked, paled. “You think someone might bug my room?”

  He nodded. “Happens.”

  “Okay. Do what you gotta do. Just none of your spy stuff in there.” She headed back to her laptop.

  Walking into her master bath, his senses sucked in the hint of her scented salts and perfume. Without thinking, he brushed his hand across the velvety-soft blue towels stacked on floating shelves. His bare feet sank into the plush scattered rugs, then stepped on cool, creamy marble. Whoa—sensory overload. One glance at the Grecian tub and the oversize shower with multiple spray heads told him hours could be spent in this room…just Macki and him.

  He jerked his head to the side. What had he heard? Imagined? A quiet sound that wasn’t there, yet was.

  “Josh! Hurry.”

  He had his gun drawn before he reached the living room. Across the open expanse, she stood pointing at her laptop. He rushed to her side and angled the computer screen to his view.

  How you doing, Macki? That was a nice little kiss you gave your boyfriend for moving your desk. BTW, I like your outfit. Green looks good on you.

  “Son of a bitch.” Josh didn’t need to look. She had on a pale green, front-button blouse with three-quarter sleeves. In every assignment, he made a mental note of how the person he protected looked at all times. Easier to give a description. Easier to find in an emergency. Easier to identify in the worst-case scenario.

  The cat-and-mouse game had changed. Somebody had eyes on both of them right now, and he needed to know how ASAP.

  He reached for her in protector mode, putting his back to the windows as he stepped in front of her. “I wish you had a safe room so I could stash you there.”

  “You’re not stashing me anywhere.” She pulled away and ran to her bedroom, returning moments later with her own gun. “I’m with you all the way.�
��

  “Then grab your laptop. Now. You do everything I tell you, the second I tell you. Got it?”

  “Got it. But I—”

  “No buts. Trust me. A second can mean the difference between life and death.”

  Josh motioned her down the hall to his so-called bedroom. Since his protector instincts made him sleep on the living room sofa to be closer to Macki, this was nothing more than a place for his security center.

  Moving farther into the bedroom, she set the laptop on the side table just as an incoming message binged. He stepped up behind her, staring at the screen.

  Macki, Macki, Macki… Now where did you and Mr. Slater get to? Oh, I bet you two wanted to spend some quality time together. Don’t let me scare you.

  “Move over.” Josh nudged her aside and typed a reply message.

  Thanks for the clues, maggot. One leads to another and another and another. Finally, one day you wake up and there I am, your worst nightmare. Standing on your doorstep. Don’t try to figure out your mistake. I doubt you’ve got the brains to know a clue when you see one. JS*OPAQUE

  Grinning, he pushed send. “Stupid bastard.”

  Stakes had changed. Ante had upped. Staying ahead of the perpetrator was more important than ever, and Josh’s signature laid him out there for CT.

  “Great bluff.” She blew out a breath.

  He shoved past her, heading to the door. “No bluff. Fact. Cold. Hard. Fact.”

  She followed his lead. “So, why don’t they just come and get me? In fact, since they’ve known my uncle is head of OPAQUE, why didn’t they pick me up before?”

  “First, CT hadn’t known for sure Drake Lawrence was the director till about six months ago. Before that, he was categorized as an agent on their list. Second, they can’t get to you now, because I’m here with all my security and surveillance equipment.”

  He wouldn’t tell her that his gut instinct said CT wanted him there. Beside her. They’d lured Drake into sending Josh, all because somebody someplace had known he could be used as leverage against her. That scenario was trouble on more levels than he wanted to contemplate.