High walls and high-tech security, he’d told her. He hadn’t mentioned the team of highly trained security specialists his brother and his wife had staying on holiday at their bed-and-breakfast, Restoration Cove. If anyone could keep her safe, they could.
He just hoped it would be enough.
FOUR
Kelsey held Janie close, peering out at their destination as Ethan let the boat glide into the pier. Lights gleamed from the windows of a gigantic house. Where had he brought her?
She heard his feet hit the deck after quick footsteps down the ladder. He tossed a line from the stern of the boat to a man waiting on the dock, all practiced, efficient motion.
When the bowline was tied off as well, Ethan met the man in the stern of the boat. A clasped hand, a bumped shoulder—they murmured an exchange that she couldn’t hear, but it was clear the man wasn’t a stranger to Ethan.
He turned to the door where Kelsey waited. “Kelsey, this is my brother, Tyler. And this is Restoration Cove.”
The baby was sleeping, so Kelsey nodded as she stepped closer. Ethan’s brother looked like him, but darker. Darker hair, darker eyes.
Tyler put a hand on her back as the boat rocked. “My wife, Gracie, is waiting for you in the kitchen at the main house. She has a room ready for you.” When she hesitated, he smiled. “It’s okay. We’ll be right behind you.”
Ethan made a sound of protest.
“She’s safe here, Ethan,” Tyler said softly. With his hand on Kelsey’s elbow, he helped her forward before turning back to his brother.
She walked down the long dock toward the shore, looking back only once as she felt Ethan’s eyes on her. He was deep in conversation with his brother, but he watched her.
Ethan had suffered a huge loss, one he was still reeling from. And yet he wanted to protect her. He wouldn’t have brought her here if he hadn’t thought it was the safest place for them.
As she got closer to the main house, she realized it was huge. A mansion. The door flew open, spilling light onto the marble terrace. A blonde in cropped sweatpants, an SBPD T-shirt and flip-flops stood in the door.
Janie stirred in Kelsey’s arms, but despite the events of the evening and all the moving, she settled back to sleep.
“I’m Ethan’s sister-in-law, Gracie. Come on in. I put a porta-crib in one of the guest rooms. My husband picked the room. It’s not the nicest—there’s no balcony—but it is roomy, and apparently, sniper-proof.”
At Kelsey’s quick, wide-eyed look, Gracie stopped in the middle of the hall. “I’m sorry. I’m so used to the law enforcement types we get around here. I forget you’re a layperson.”
“You’re not?”
Gracie started up the stairs. “Not really. I’m a forensic psychologist, or was, until Tyler and I opened Restoration Cove. I still work on call with the Crisis Response Team as a hostage negotiator.” She pushed open the door to one of the guest rooms. “And I work as a counselor here.”
Kelsey walked into the room. As Gracie had said, there was plenty of space for the porta-crib, which had been placed on the wall closest to the hall. The headboard of the bed was upholstered in a pale blue-and-brown scroll print. The fluffy white comforter had a cornflower-blue throw casually tossed at the end that, at first glance, Kelsey was pretty sure was cashmere.
“You do have your own bathroom,” Gracie said softly, as she gestured to a door at the opposite end of the room.
Soft light shone from the lamp on the desk angled into a corner. It was beautiful and cozy without being girly. Luxurious and understated.
Kelsey gently laid the toddler in the crib. Janie opened her eyes and blinked, saw Kelsey, and smiled. Oh, boy. If she really woke up now, they were in for an all-nighter. Kelsey laid the tattered piece of blankie next to Janie’s face and patted her on the back. With a sigh, the toddler rolled over on her tummy and tucked the blankie under her chin, her eyes fluttering shut again.
With every child Kelsey rescued from a dangerous situation, she felt a tug on her heart. A responsibility that went beyond just a job. She had defenses, of course—she had to or she wouldn’t be able to do her job at all.
But this little girl, all sixteen point two pounds of her, had wormed right under those defenses in about ten seconds flat.
Gracie waited at the door. Kelsey turned to her, tucking one bare foot behind the other, aware her appearance didn’t quite measure up to her surroundings.
“You’ve had a tough day.” Gracie’s eyes were kind, and without warning Kelsey’s burned with tears.
She pressed her fingers to them. “You have no idea.”
“Believe me, I know how it feels. Come on, I’ll give you the nickel tour, and if you like, we can join the guys for some tea.”
As they left the room, Gracie closed the door behind Kelsey. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine. We have great security here.”
“That’s what Tyler said. Why?” She followed Gracie down the hall to another door, which opened into a small sitting room.
“The real reason is that last year my sister tried to kill me.” Gracie looked back at Kelsey and rolled her eyes. “Try to say that without freaking somebody out. We had the security system put in after that, and since then, we’ve upgraded.”
She let Kelsey walk into the room before her. “We’re a bed-and-breakfast, as you can tell, but we have a special mission. We cater to law enforcement officers and agents and their families who need a place to rest and recover.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like it before.”
“When Tyler came out of the DEA, he needed a place to figure out life. The Cove did that for him. We figured maybe it could be that for other people too. We have all the amenities of a high-end resort, but we also have counseling services available for those who request it. And occasionally, we provide a safe house if there’s a need.” Gracie dropped into a chair and curled her feet underneath her. “Like I said, we have excellent security.”
“Thank you for taking us in.” Kelsey sank into a comfy wide sofa and dropped her head into her hands. “It’s not the first time I’ve been under attack by armed gunmen, but I certainly didn’t expect it in my own home.”
“No one ever expects violence. What happened the last time? Was it another case?”
Life had taught Kelsey at an early age to roll with the punches, put the past behind you. She’d had to, to survive. The attack on her village in Rwanda wasn’t something she talked about—ever. She was obviously more affected by the events of today than she thought, for that event to be up front, right there, in her mind. “It was a long time ago. I lived overseas with my parents. Things are different in third-world countries.”
She slanted a look at Gracie, whose blue eyes didn’t miss anything.
“If you want to talk about it, that’s literally what I’m here for. Sometimes it helps to talk.” A wry smile curved Gracie’s lips. “And, according to Tyler, sometimes it helps to beat the living daylights out of something. He leads a hand-to-hand combat class on the back lawn every morning. Because I insist, we also have tai chi on the beach at sunset. You know you’re welcome here, Kelsey.”
Kelsey drew in a deep breath. “You have no idea how grateful I am.”
“I think I do.” Gracie unfolded herself from the chair and gestured to a different door from the one they came in. “That door also leads back to your room. Since you have the baby, you should consider this room as part of your personal space. I’m going to check on the men and head back to my quarters. We do have guests at the moment, so I’ll be back here in a couple of hours to help Tyler with breakfast.”
“Thanks.” Kelsey stood, hugging Gracie. The same early life lessons that had taught her to roll with the punches and put the past behind her had taught her to show affection when she felt it. She’d learned she might not have another chance.
Gracie squeezed. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep as late as you want. I’ll save you something.”
A laugh snorte
d out. “Oh, I wish. Janie has—for the most part—slept through all the excitement tonight. I have a feeling she’ll be up in time to help Tyler with the pancakes.”
At the door, Gracie turned back, blond curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Oh, I figured you left in a hurry, so there are a few things for you in the dresser.”
Gracie left the door open. Kelsey laid her head on the oversized arm of the sofa. Tyler and Gracie had both said she was safe here, that Janie was safe here. What an amazing feeling, to be able to relax her guard, even for just a few minutes.
She closed her eyes. Today had been such a long day and she was so very tired. Maybe she would rest just a minute before she went to find those clothes.
The smell of bacon and coffee roused Ethan from the small bit of restless sleep he’d managed. His brother had fired questions at him for over an hour about what had happened, how they would keep Kelsey safe and what they would need to accomplish it. He’d walked out on Tyler once the police called and said they had evidence that at least one of the hitmen had been injured. Lots of bullet holes, but no casings. These guys were definitely professionals.
All the while he’d kept turning the mystery over and over in his mind. Who took his child? And how had they managed it right under the noses of his team and left virtually no trace?
Who had left a tiny toddler—a sick one, no less—alone in a boat for him to find, along with the information about his son? He wondered about the intentions of the person who would do such a thing. Could they possibly be good?
Obviously he was now on the search for his son, and Janie would get the medical care that she needed. He still couldn’t understand why he or she would go to such lengths to get his attention. Surely a meeting at a coffeehouse would’ve worked just as well.
There were too many questions. Too little information. He might be stuck here, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have goals—to find his son and close a case that was apparently putting them all at risk.
Charlie was the one thing he hadn’t talked with Tyler about last night. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Tyler would believe … maybe he just wanted to keep it close to his heart for a little while longer.
His phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the readout. Restricted number.
A sense of excitement mixed with foreboding as he pushed the send button. “Clark.”
“Ethan Clark?” The voice raised the hair on his arms. He knew this voice. The last time he’d heard it was on the phone, making the arrangements for the day on the night his wife was murdered.
His lip twitched involuntarily. “Hello, Cantori.”
“Well, of course, I don’t go by that name now, but it will do for these purposes.”
“How did you get this number?” Ethan didn’t think he could manage a civil conversation much longer.
“A mutual friend gave it to me.”
Ethan’s fingers went cold. Who had he talked to that had talked to Tony Cantori? It could’ve been one of the FBI agents in Mobile. It could’ve been one of the police officers in Destin or Sea Breeze. It could even have been his partner. “What do you want, Cantori?”
“Stay away from this case. I’m speaking as one friend to another. You’ve suffered enough.”
“What are you talking about?” The fact that this man would still threaten him made him sick.
The low chuckle rolled over Ethan like an evil wave. “I think you know exactly what I mean, Ethan. Watch your back. And keep a careful eye on those you love.” His old enemy hung up the phone.
Ethan stared at it in his hand. Then stuffed it in his back pocket.
He needed to find his brother downstairs. And he needed to find his son. Had he put Charlie in danger again by following up on this?
But what was his other choice? Not following through?
His fingers curled into a fist. Barely, he resisted punching it through the wall.
He needed to find Tyler ASAP, and he had a good idea that his brother could be found in the kitchen. As he walked down the hall, he heard a noise from Kelsey’s room. Babble, babble, babble. Silence. A little louder: babble, babble, babble. Squeal.
How was Kelsey sleeping through that?
As he went a little farther down the hall, he glanced into an open door. Kelsey lay curled in the corner of a sofa in a small sitting room, still in the clothes she’d worn the night before. She was sound asleep, her arm flung out beside her.
She was cute. Her dark hair curled almost to her waist. She wore casual sweatpants and a T-shirt that had a picture of Africa holding up two fingers like a peace sign. He was pretty sure he’d seen a celebrity wearing that on the cover of a magazine. Definition of an oxymoron?
Janie squealed again. Kelsey rolled onto her side and tucked her fist under her cheek. She wouldn’t sleep through that noise for long.
Gracie seemed to have blankets lying around everywhere. He pulled a rust-colored one from the end of the couch to cover Kelsey up. As he did, he saw the bottoms of her feet were bloodied and bruised.
His jaw tightened. She’d been running full out last night. Running from people shooting at her. And she hadn’t once stopped to think about herself, only Janie—putting herself between the baby and danger. She was going to pay the price for that today. He dropped the blanket over her shoulders and stepped away, shaking his fingers to avoid clenching that fist again.
Anger management skills. He apparently needed some.
The door from this sitting room connected to the guest room that they’d chosen for Kelsey. He eased it open. Big blue eyes blinked at him over the top rail of the crib. She squealed again and bounced, rocking the bed.
“Shh.”
She tilted her head.
“Hey, Janie-girl.” She smiled at him. “Don’t you remember the doctor said you’re not supposed to get too excited?”
Ethan wasn’t sure the doctor would believe it if they told him about escaping from gunmen and a late-night run across the bay. As he got closer, Janie looked up at him and raised her arms. There was such confidence in those eyes, and for just a second, he wanted to say, Don’t trust me.
She was cute in her little flowered sleeper, and probably wet, if he remembered babies in the morning. Also, probably hungry. Hungry he could handle.
He picked her up from the crib and as he brought her closer, he got a whiff of the most noxious fumes. Was it … Oh, no. It most definitely was.
Ethan started back toward the sitting room and Kelsey. After all, Kelsey was the one who had official custody of the imp currently grinning at him from her perch on his arm. Dirty diapers would definitely be the purview of the official foster parent.
But then he remembered her feet and how exhausted she must’ve been to fall asleep on the couch like that. He sighed. “Okay, girl. Looks like it’s just you and me. You’re going to have to bear with me.”
He laid her on the bed and looked around for a diaper. The bag was on the dresser at least ten feet away. He muttered under his breath. “Really? The bag has to be way over there?”
He may not have been a dad for long, but even he knew not to leave a baby Janie’s age on the bed. He picked her back up to get the bag. He was exhausted and he hadn’t even started the real work yet.
When he laid her back on the bed, she had a look on her face as if she were laughing at some private joke that only she knew. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m out of practice. Now where are those wipes?”
He unzipped her and nearly gagged. “What kind of crime scene do we have here, little miss? I think we might need the hazmat team.”
Ethan undid the tabs on the diaper and, holding his breath, cleaned her up as fast as he could. He turned to reach for the dry diaper and nearly lost her as she crawled like lightning toward the edge of the bed. “Whoa there, girl. You can’t go anywhere without your drawers on.”
He got the diaper on with no further drama and stuck her feet back in the footy holes. She tried to crawl out a couple of times, but he
distracted her with his cell phone long enough to get her zipped back up and give his hands a quick swipe with one of her baby wipes.
She was ready to go.
He, on the other hand, was pouring sweat. Wrangling a toddler was a workout. “All right, peanut, you’re ready to roll. Want to go downstairs and see what the master chef is cooking for breakfast?”
She bounced again, which he figured was as close to a yes as he was going to get. He walked her downstairs and into the kitchen, where it looked like a small nuclear device had exploded. “Whoa. What happened here?”
Pots were thrown haphazardly into the sink, and flour residue was scattered over every surface in the kitchen. Ethan was pretty sure there was a squirt of maple syrup on the wall.
“I was a little thrown off my game by some middle-of-the-night arrivals and the fact that my wife got called out this morning.” His brother, in a cook’s smock and baseball cap, shot him a look.
“Anything I can do to help?”
Tyler plated a stack of fluffy pancakes, sprinkled it with a flourish of powdered sugar and garnished it with a fan of sliced strawberry as a teenager with a perky red ponytail came flying through the door to the dining room.
“Pancakes.” Tyler slid them across the work surface to her as she picked up a fresh pot of coffee.
“Oh, you’re good, Mr. Clark.” She backed out of the room. “This is the last one.”
“I know.” Tyler leaned against the counter, grabbed a bottle of water and swigged. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“Got a pancake for the little lady?”
Tyler grinned, chucked Janie under the chin and handed her a triangle of toast, which she immediately began to chew on. “I think that can be arranged. And for you?”
“The same would be good.” Ethan hitched Janie up on his hip and ignored the toast crumbs littering his borrowed shirt as Tyler cracked eggs into a ceramic bowl. “I know we’re trouble, but I need to—”
Tyler stopped midcrack on the fourth egg and turned to give Ethan a hard stare. “You’re kidding me, right? I’ve barely seen you since you moved back here. I’m glad you felt like you could come to me for help.”
The Baby's Bodyguard Page 4
