HER BODYGUARD

by Michelle Jerott

  "You're making this really hard for me." After a brief silence, she added, "If you get caught, I may not be able to help you. And if word leaks out about what I'm doing, it could mean trouble for me."

  "I know."

  "Then you'd better not shoot anybody unless you have to." She sounded pissed. "And we didn't have this conversation."

  "Thanks…I owe you."

  "The keys are in the ignition. Money's in a bag on the floor," she said, brisk and businesslike again. "It's not much. I stopped at two ATM machines on the way here. Only four hundred bucks."

  "It's enough."

  She eyed him critically. "You should've asked for clothes. You'll have a hard time going unnoticed wearing that, especially since you bled all over it."

  Damn. "I didn't think of that."

  "Do you want me to—"

  Matt shook his head, impatient. "We don't have time. I'll deal with it later. There's one more thing I need from you before I go."

  "Matt—"

  "This is important. I need everything you can find on Joey Mancuso and Rose McIntyre. I'll call for it in two days."

  Monica stared. "You mean the outlaws killed back in the thirties? Why?"

  "What do you know about the stolen money that was never found?"

  "I asked you a question first."

  Matt glanced over his shoulder at Lili, sitting in the car, watching him. "I don't have time to explain everything now, but I think all this is about a pair of shoes that belonged to Rose McIntyre. Lili owns the shoes … she's wearing them. The only reason I can figure anybody wants her this bad is because her shoes have something to do with the money Joey Mancuso stole in 1933."

  "That's way, way out there, Matt."

  "Nothing else fits. My team and I were set up, Monica. We never stood a chance."

  She still looked skeptical, but she was listening. She was too good a cop not to. "I don't know much about Joey and Rose beyond that they were crooks, he double-crossed a mobster, and got whacked, but I'll see what I can dig up. It might take me more than a couple days."

  "Get me what you can. Do you remember where they were killed?"

  "Somewhere in Wisconsin, right?"

  "Big Moccasin Lake Lodge," said the tall cop from behind Monica. "It's in northern Wisconsin, about a half hour from the Michigan border, just off Highway 45. I go up that way every summer. Good fishing."

  Fishing. Matt almost smiled. That pretty much summed up his plans.

  Matt nodded his thanks at the cop, then turned back to Monica. "I need your help on this. It was a long time ago, but there may be people around who remember, and might know why the shoes are important."

  She nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Who's working on Kavanaugh's assault case?"

  "Mike Payton."

  "Payton's good. I'll talk to him and see if they turned up any leads. I know a few other people I can talk to." She smiled faintly, and said, "Your instincts are good, Matt. You shoulda been a cop."

  He snorted. "With my history? I don't think so."

  "Sometimes reformed troublemakers make the best cops." When he didn't respond, she asked, "Are you going where I think you're going?"

  "I can't tell you exactly where I'm headed." It was mostly true – until he bought a map, he didn't know. "Trust me, okay? And there's one more thing … I'll also need everything you can find on Willis Conroy."

  Ten

  Matt's stony reticence, combined with the dark confines of the car, her still raw nerves, and the fact she had no idea where he was taking her, filled Lili with anxiety.

  Finally, to break the long silence, she said, "I'm sorry about Dal."

  He didn't respond, driving with such a focused intensity that she wondered if he even knew she sat beside him. She wanted to hear his calm voice, feel his reassuring touch – but he had problems enough to deal with, and didn't have time to hold her hand and tell her everything was hunky-dory.

  "He'll be okay," she added firmly.

  His mouth thinned. "You really believe that?"

  Taken by surprise, she hesitated, then said, "I need to believe that." After a moment, she raised her hands, staring at them. "I can't seem to stop shaking."

  He glanced at her, then back to the road. Traffic had thinned after they left Chicago, but there were still a lot of cars and trucks on the highway, considering it was after midnight.

  "Adrenaline crash," he said quietly. "It'll pass."

  He sounded as if he knew what he was talking about, so she settled back in her seat, watching the headlights flash by, and after a while noticed he never exceeded the speed limit by more than five miles per hour.

  No need to catch the attention of any state troopers, she supposed. They'd have a tough time explaining why a bloodied gangster and a shell-shocked flapper were driving in a heap of a car in the dead of night.

  The road hummed beneath the tires, numbing in its monotony. Now and then a hint of greasy french fries tickled her nose, mingled with the stale odor of cigarette smoke.

  Lili glanced at Matt, taking in the uncompromising lines of his face, shadowed by darkness, and the large, powerful hands gripping the steering wheel.

  "How's your arm?" she asked.

  "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

  Right; he'd been shot, and she wasn't to worry. Lili studied his tense face a moment longer, then asked abruptly, "You and that detective were lovers?"

  "It was a long time ago."

  From the start, she'd known there'd once been something between them – from the way they'd moved warily around each other, a hesitation hinting at history, at old hurts – and now curiosity warred with a sharp, unexpected jab of jealousy.

  Monica Espinosa was attractive and gutsy. She wouldn't have shaky hands or feel like throwing up during car chases – Monica probably thrived on that kind of action. The woman seemed much more Matt's type. Lili didn't like the thought, or the mental image of Matt's long fingers running down Monica's skin, palming her breasts, making love to her…

  Shaken by the force of her animosity, and unable to deny her feelings for Matt were running way, way beyond simple lust, Lili curled her fingers in her lap. "So what happened? Why'd you split up?"

  Matt shrugged, pressing back in the seat to stretch. He slid his hands lower on the steering wheel. "She had problems with my job."

  "A woman who deals with murder on a daily basis had a problem with your job?"

  "It's a long story." He shifted his gaze toward her. "I don't want to talk about it."

  Fair enough. It wasn't any of her business, anyway. She looked back out the window, although there was nothing to see except for the occasional glare of passing headlights.

  "Why did she help us? And those two officers?" she asked, changing the subject. "I don't know much about police work, but I don't think what they did tonight was by the book."

  "Are you complaining?"

  At the flat tone of his voice, she looked away from the window. It almost seemed as if he were angry with her, and this was the absolute last thing she needed to deal with tonight.

  "No, but I have a feeling she's bending a few laws on our account, and—"

  "You let me worry about that."

  Resentment spurted that he was treating her like some brainless bimbo, but she forced herself to hold it back. He'd been through a lot tonight, and she suspected all that careful professionalism had thinned to a gossamer veneer – and she had no desire to see it crack.

  Not again. The last time had been frightening enough.

  "Where are we going?" she asked instead.

  "North."

  Lili opened her mouth to snap back, but clamped her lips closed and turned back to the window.

  Obviously he was in a mood, and she'd be better off trying to get answers out of him later. Probably he needed time to regroup or whatever it was guys like him did when things went all to hell.

  Her own guilt threatened to overwhelm her if she dwelt too long on what had happened. Her head knew it was
n't her fault Manny and Dal had been shot, but in her heart beat a sickening guilt that Dal might die because of her.

  What made it even worse was that she didn't know why.

  "That was a trap back there, wasn't it?" She couldn't keep her questions bottled up inside any longer. At his curt nod, she said, "It sounds more like assassins than stalkers."

  He briefly met her gaze. "That's what I'm thinking."

  "I can't believe it," she burst out in frustration. "There has to be a reason! I live the most boring life you can imagine – working or traveling day after day, month after month. Do you think I've been mistaken for somebody else? Somebody rich, or important?"

  "Who says you're not important?"

  "Come on, Matt, you know what I mean."

  "The shooters were too professional to make a mistake like that." He let out his breath, and said tightly, "I never thought to warn Dal about opening the window. I told him to stay in the car, and he did. Maybe if he'd been out of the car, they just would've knocked him out cold—"

  "Matt, don't. It's not your fault."

  "The hell it isn't! I'm the team leader. When something goes wrong, it's my fault. If I'd been paying more attention to the situation instead of getting in your pants, maybe they'd be okay now."

  She flinched from the anger in his voice, hurt and offended by his crudity, especially after his earlier tenderness. It was all she could do not to snap back at him – and she would've, had she not sensed his anger, his need to hurt, was directed at himself, not her. "You're not superhuman. You weren't expecting a sniper, just a stalker. They'd have shot him through the window, anyway. There wasn't anything you could've done to stop that."

  "It was bullet-resistant glass, Lili, and I knew I wasn't dealing with an average stalker. I should've been more alert."

  There was little else for her to say; protests would do no good if he was determined to punish himself for being human rather than omnipotent.

  After a lengthy silence, he said, "The shooter could've easily killed Manny, but didn't, and that's one more thing about this damn mess that makes no sense. Why go to the trouble of disabling one, then shoot the other in the head?"

  Even hearing him say the words left her cold with fear and dread. Lili reached over and touched his arm. He tensed, but only for a moment, then took one hand off the steering wheel to briefly squeeze her hand.

  That one little touch sent a spurt of relief through her, and a welcome comfort.

  "There had to be two shooters, in two different positions," Matt added. "One must've been following orders, and the other not. The question is, were they ordered to maim, or kill?"

  "So what's our plan? Are you going to tell me, or don't I have any choice but to tag along?"

  A twinge of what looked like guilt crossed his face. "I'm still working out the details, but we're hiding out until the cops catch these guys, or until we figure out why they're after you and how to stop them."

  "Maybe I could go back home," she said, even knowing it was impossible. "I have a job, and a family … I can't just up and disappear."

  "You can call your parents and work later. Going home isn't a good idea. If they can get to you in Chicago, they can get to you in New York."

  "And who are 'they'?" she asked, pulling the wrap more tightly around her. Cold … she was so cold.

  "I have a feeling we're dealing with organized crime here."

  "Organized crime," Lili repeated, the chill seeping ever deeper. "My God."

  "What's bugging the shit out of me is that these people kill each other all the time, but generally don't go after ordinary citizens. It's bad for business, and above all else, these guys consider themselves businessmen."

  Lili studied him, a sudden suspicion dawning. "You know what's going on, don't you?" When he raised his shoulders in an evasive gesture, she added, "Tell me, Matt. Right now."

  "It has to be the shoes." He didn't look away from the highway. "Joey Mancuso stole something he shouldn't have, and those shoes are the key to finding it."

  Whatever she'd expected him to say, this wasn't it. Lili stared down at her shoes. "But how?"

  "I don't have an answer, but we're heading north to find the one man who might."

  "Who?" she asked, thoroughly confused. How the hell had he come up with all this?

  "Joey's partner, Willis Conroy. You said he's still alive, and if there's anybody who can tell us what's up with these shoes, it'll be Conroy."

  The impact of his answer shocked her … yet, as farfetched as it sounded, it also carried a ring of truth.

  "The hit tonight wasn't directed at you, Lili. They were trying to take out your protection, which tells me you have something they want. The only thing I can come up with are the shoes."

  Again, Lili looked down. Acquiring Rose McIntyre's dancing shoes had been an indulgence, a guaranteed attention-getter, and the big draw for both her public Chicago lectures—

  The lectures…

  That was how they'd known; it had to be.

  "Your lectures were advertised in advance," Matt said, as if he'd read her mind. "The shoes were featured in campus bulletins and newspaper publicity ads – I checked that first day. You had the shoes with you at the Art Institute, and your attackers knew it. Once they realized you'd hired bodyguards, they decided to try for them at your suite."

  Lili turned, staring out at the blackness of night, seeing nothing but the pale reflection of her own face, her eyes wide, her mouth pulled into a tight line.

  Publicity was a given in her work; she used it whenever possible, but had never once considered how it could be used against her.

  "They could've gotten past the hotel security guard if they'd wanted to," Matt said. "These guys were working with orders not to kill unless necessary, and when they didn't get into your suite, they waited until the fundraiser. After failing twice, they decided not to play nice anymore. The plan was to get rid of your bodyguards and grab you, just in case you knew something."

  "At that first attack, if I'd just dropped the shoebox, then none of this would've happened. Manny and Dal wouldn't have been hurt."

  Hurt. What a weak euphemism. The thought of Dal made her sick all over again. Was he even still alive? Lili wondered about his wife – Jodie, she now had a name – and how she was dealing with it all.

  When Lili turned back to Matt, waiting for his answer, she saw his expression had turned hard, bleak.

  "Maybe," he said. "I don't know for sure. This is just a guess."

  A pretty good one, and on a sudden inspiration, Lili clicked on the dome light and then slipped off both shoes. She intently examined them, and ran her fingers along the insoles, the leather still warm from her skin.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Feeling for a false bottom … these were custom-made shoes. I didn't notice anything when I first bought them, but I wasn't looking for anything beyond damage." She ran her fingers along the seams, pinched the outside and soles, feeling for any strange thickness, but found nothing. Turning the shoes over, she examined the caps of the blocky heels. "The heels are hollow, I think. Maybe Joey pried off a cap and hid a piece of paper inside the heel."

  "A treasure map," Matt said, his tone wry. "Christ."

  Lili shrugged. It did sound a bit melodramatic. "Maybe he stashed the money, planning to come back for it later when it was safe. Who knows? It seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through for a bag of old money, though."

  Matt glanced at her, looking as if he might say something more, but instead motioned to the shoes in her lap. "Were the heels tampered with?"

  "I can't tell in this light. There's a lot of wear on these, but once we stop and find a knife or screwdriver, I'll know for certain." She switched off the light and regarded him, still amazed by his quick thinking. "When did you figure out the shoe part?"

  "Before we met up with Monica."

  While she'd huddled in the car, willing herself not to throw up or scream, he'd been saving their bacon and solving puzz
les. That left her feeling more helpless than she liked.

  "I never would've figured any of this out … I am so glad Jared hired me a genius bodyguard."

  "I'm no genius, Lili. It's the most obvious answer."

  "Not so obvious to me." She sensed something else behind his dismissive response – and it wasn't modesty. "You shouldn't sell yourself short, Matt. Why do I get the feeling you think you're only some grunt who operates with brute force, and not smarts?"

  He was silent for so long that she thought he wouldn't answer. Finally, he said, "It's not genius, just street sense."

  "What difference does that make? I—"

  "I'm not going to argue with you," he said, his tone irritable. "Drop it."

  Not wanting to provoke a fight, she again forced back her anger. "Willis Conroy has to be well into his nineties by now. His mind could be gone."

  "It's worth a shot."

  "And if Conroy gives you the answers you're after, then what?"

  He paused. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

  Lili watched him, not missing his closed expression. "I don't believe you."

  Matt stared at her, but she didn't back down before his chilly glare. She was on to his tricks by now, how he worked this whole intimidation business.

  Unexpectedly, a rueful smile curved his mouth. "Okay, you're right. I wasn't going to say anything yet because I don't want to scare you, but I swore I wouldn't coddle you like everybody else—"

  "Coddle?" she repeated, offended.

  "Your family and friends baby you along, Lili, and you know it. You said so yourself at dinner."

  Her pride demanded she deny it, but she sighed and said, "Sometimes I'm not the bravest woman on the planet, I admit that, but I can handle the truth."

  "I should've told you right away," he said at length. "Sorry."

  The apology helped soothe her bruised pride. "So what's your plan?"

  "If this is about Joey Mancuso's last heist, and if we can find his missing bag and turn it over to the police, along with the shoes, we neutralize the problem. Then these goons have no reason to come after you anymore."

  "Oh." A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. "I think I see a problem with this."