by Peggy Jaeger
When they were about halfway down the corridor, Josh stopped. “So who’d she see get taken out?”
Without giving him too much information, Ky filled him in on the federal case he’d been working for the past three years.
Josh whistled through his teeth.
“She was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Ky said, “and now she’s in danger because of it.”
“She needs to be kept out of sight until you find out who’s behind the killings,” Josh said.
“Oh, I know who’s responsible,” Ky told him. “It’s a question of being able to prove it before anything else happens.”
His phone pinged, and Ky looked down at the number written across the screen. “Excuse me. I’ve got to take this.”
Ky walked away from Josh. “Pappandreos.”
“I want a full report right now,” his boss, Special Agent in Charge Colin Tiege blared into the phone. Succinctly, Ky told him everything they knew of the attack, including the description Gemma had given. “Jon’s working it through the system now, see if we get a hit. But I know it’s connected to Ritandi. I feel it.”
“I agree. This has his stamp all over it. Who else would take out a hit on Calafano?”
“No one. It makes sense it was him. Calafano was set to do serious damage to Ritandi’s business with his testimony.”
“And now you have no witness. No one who can detail the operation like Calafano could.”
Ky remained silent. The anger and frustration filtering through the phone was identical to his own.
“To top off a lousy day, I just got my ass chewed out by that little pissant from the AG’s office.”
“Barly?”
“Yeah. Davison ‘I’m-an-asshole’ Barly. Jerk had the nerve to accuse us of sabotaging the case, of leaking Calafano’s whereabouts to Ritandi. He’s calling for yours and Winters’s heads on a platter, so don’t be surprised if you get a call. Prick.”
Department of Justice lawyer, Davison Barly, was, in Ky’s opinion, one of the most unpleasant, rude people he’d ever had the misfortune to work with. Over the year since he’d been assigned to the Ritandi task force as the attorney general’s assistant, the politically ambitious lawyer had tried to push the case forward at every turn, whether they had enough evidence or not. When Mario Calafano had been arrested, Barly was the only one who’d balked against making a deal with the bookkeeper, insisting instead on sending him to trial as a warning to Ritandi.
Ultimately it had been the attorney general’s call to offer a deal and witness protection.
None of which mattered now, though, with the bookkeeper’s execution.
“What are your plans for the witness you do have?”
Ky blew out a breath and swiped his free hand around his neck to massage the tightening muscles. “Her brother-in-law’s in private security. He can keep her under wraps.”
“Not a good idea, Papps. I don’t want any more civilians involved in this.”
“The guy owns his own business, boss. Protection is what he does.”
“I don’t care. You and Winters take care of it. Put her in a secure place and have her guarded. What happened today shouldn’t have been possible. No one was supposed to know where Calafano was being kept. The fact someone did has me wondering if there’s a leak somewhere down the chain.”
Ky rubbed his eyes with the pads of his fingers. “Yeah, I was wondering that as well. Okay. We’ll take care of it.”
He ended the call and went back to a waiting Josh.
“From the look on your face,” Josh said, “I can tell that wasn’t pleasant.”
Ky shook his head. “My superior.” He slid the phone back into his pants pocket. “He wants your sister-in-law secured.”
Josh nodded. “I can do that.”
“No. He doesn’t want any non-agency people involved in this. We’ll be providing her with protection and some place safe to stay until this is resolved. She can’t go back to her condo now, since they know where she lives.”
Josh blew out a breath. “Good luck getting her to agree. Gemma’s not known for taking orders well. You’ll have a fight on your hands for sure.”
“Can’t be helped, Mr. Keane. I’ve got my orders.”
“It’s Josh, and I know. I just want you to be prepared for what she’s going to do when you tell her.”
* * *
“No frigging way!” Gemma jumped up from the bed with a lopsided jerk, causing the IV pole to tumble to the floor. “There’s no way in hell I’m going into hiding.”
Ky reached for the pole and righted it. “I’m afraid there really is no other alternative, Miss Laine. They’ll come after you again, try to find out what you know, what you saw.”
“But I don’t know anything. All I did was take some pictures. That’s it. I don’t even know who the dead men are.”
“Gemma, lower your voice,” Kandy said. “We can all hear you.”
“I’m sorry, Kan, but this is ridiculous.” Gemma crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do I have to go into hiding? I didn’t do anything.”
“It’s for your own safety,” Ky told her.
“Can’t I just go with them?” she asked, pointing to her sister and brother-in-law. “Josh can keep me safe.”
“Think that one through, Miss Laine. You’d be putting them in potential danger as well as yourself. No, we need to put you in a safe house for a few days until this situation is resolved.”
“A few days? I’ve got work to do, photographic commitments to honor. I’m booked for two shoots this week alone. I can’t afford a few days away from all that.”
“Gem, calm down,” Josh said, his voice soft, but firm. “Agent Pappandreos is right. The FBI can do a better job of protecting you than I can. It’s that simple. They have better resources, more manpower.”
“But I don’t trust him.” Gemma pointed a finger at Ky, her voice rising again. “I trust you.”
“I know, kid.” Josh rubbed a hand down her arm. He looked over at his wife, raised his eyebrows.
Kandy nodded. “We’ll take you back to your place and get everything you need,” she told her.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you go back to your apartment,” Ky told Gemma, noting she was now squinting at him, her brow creased, her fury aimed directly at him. “It might still be staked out by whoever did this to you. It’s not safe.”
Before she could protest, Josh said, “Kandy and I will get what you need and bring it all back here. Okay?”
“Do I really have a choice?” Gemma said, dragging her hands through her hair. “This sucks. Big time.”
Silently, Ky agreed.
* * *
An hour later Kandy kissed her goodbye after dropping off Gemma’s overnight bag, the laptop she used for editing her photos, and two of the cameras she’d requested, nestled in their carrying cases.
When Josh leaned in to give her cheek a brotherly peck, he whispered, “Be good. This guy is just trying to keep you safe. Don’t be a pain.”
She narrowed her eyes at him when he pulled back, but didn’t say anything.
Right after they left, Jon Winters came into the cubicle. “It’s all set,” he told Ky. Looking at Gemma he asked, “Are you ready, Miss Laine?”
Without a word, she nodded and grabbed for her bags. Ky reached for them at the same time. When his hand twisted over hers, they both stopped moving. Gemma lifted her gaze up to his and tightened her grip over the suitcase handle. His large palm engulfed her hand and all she could feel was heat flowing from it, warming her, searing her. A strange, unexpected spark fired right through her system, down to her stomach—and lower—causing a quick shudder to blast from deep within. For a moment Gemma forgot to breathe.
“Allow me,” he said, looking down at her. With his lips curving slightly at the corners, he added
, “I’ll take this, since I figure you don’t want either one of us to touch your cameras.”
Gemma’s mind stopped working and all she could do was stare at his mouth. The center of his top lip held a small bow that indented and outlined the upper half of his lips. The bottom one was full, and on a woman, it would have been called pouty. On him, though, it was sensual, erotic, and just begging to be kissed.
Gemma couldn’t stop staring at it. For a few seconds her gaze stayed glued to his mouth, forgetting everything else.
“Miss Laine?” he said. “Is something wrong?”
Gemma tore her attention from his sexy lips up to his eyes, where a question filled them.
It was as if she was seeing his eyes, really seeing them, for the first time. As adept as she usually was at describing things, she couldn’t find the words to do justice to the unusual flecks of colors and shades filtering through his irises. The green was so light it appeared crystalline, with a darker rim that mimicked deep moss circling the inner, lighter colors. The lids were heavy-hooded, so even when wide awake and staring straight at her, he gave the impression he was just pulling out of sleep.
Bedroom eyes, Grandma Sophie had called a look like his. Sensual, sexual, and carnal, as if they could look right into your soul and know your deepest, darkest, most erotic secrets.
Gemma realized in that instant she would love nothing more than to commit those eyes to film. But even thinking it, she knew no photograph could ever capture the beauty and the essence of the colors staring back at her.
“Is something wrong?” Ky repeated.
The quizzical expression on his lined brow snapped Gemma out of her thoughts. With a slight shake of her head she glanced down at her hand, his still over it, and said, “No. No. I’ll take the cameras.”
Ky relaxed his grip and let her move hers from the handle of the suitcase. When she let go, he grabbed the bag, lifting it. “Ready?”
Gemma nodded once and picked up the camera cases. “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”
* * *
“It’s not the Ritz,” Ky said, “but as safe houses go, it’s not half bad.”
The Ritz it wasn’t. Not even close.
“Your room is at the top of the landing, second door on the right,” Jon told her. “I’ll drop your stuff up there.” He moved up the staircase, her suitcase in his hand.
“Quick lay of the land,” Ky said. “Two floors and the basement. Living room, den, eat-in kitchen, bathroom down here. Three bedrooms upstairs, two baths. You’ll have your own room with an adjoining bathroom.”
“You’ll both be staying here?” Gemma asked.
Ky nodded. “In addition to some of my other men. We’ll take shifts. I still need to coordinate with the rest of my team while we’re here, but for the next day or so the three of us will be together constantly. Hopefully, we can end this whole thing before it drags on too much longer and we can get you back home as soon as possible.”
“Hopefully is the operative word in that statement,” Gemma said.
The frustration in her tone was obvious. She’d been quiet on the drive from Manhattan to Queens, sitting in the backseat, arms folded across her chest, staring out the window with a look of childlike petulance on her face. The few times he’d glanced in the rearview mirror, he could see the barely controlled anger filtering through her eyes. To say she wasn’t happy about the current situation would be a total understatement. This was one pissed off woman. A fine looking one, but furious nonetheless, and Ky couldn’t blame her. Through no fault of her own she’d been thrown into a situation where she’d tried to do the right thing, and it wound up coming back to bite her in the ass.
He knew he wouldn’t be happy, either, if his world was suddenly turned upside down. His only hope was they could quickly find the assassins and her attacker and allow her to go back home, as he’d told her.
“A few house rules,” he said. When she just stared at him, her mouth tight, eyes narrowed, he could feel the irritation sliding off her.
“You can’t use your cell phone to call anyone or check data. It needs to be shut off at all times.”
“No one? Not even the clients I’m being forced to bail on because of this, this—” her hand flailed out and swept the room, eyes blazing.
Ky shook his head. “Cell phones are traceable, as are computers. Since Ritandi knows who you are, I’m sure he’s already had one of his people find out all your basic information. Cell phone number, e-mail address. All the accounts linked to your phone and computer. A digital fingerprint spans a wide berth these days, and it’s easy for a hacker to find you. Too easy.”
“This gets worse by the minute. What am I supposed to do? Just not show up at my client appointments? Do you know what that will do to my professional reputation? I’ll never get another job offer if people think I’m unreliable and capricious about my work commitments.”
“You can use my phone to call your clients and any staff members you have. It’s blocked and untraceable. There’s about fourteen layers of security attached to it. As long as you make the call quick and don’t linger to gossip or chat it should be sufficient.”
The anger barely contained beneath the surface bled out in full force.
“First of all, I work alone. I don’t have any staff or anyone helping me. It’s my name, my business.”
Ky nodded.
“Secondly, and more importantly, I don’t gossip with clients. I’m a professional. I’m there to do a job, a job they’ve hired me for. What am I supposed to tell them when I call to cancel? Sorry, but I can’t photograph you today. I’ve got this little annoyance of a maniac looking for me?”
Ky forced his annoyance down. “You can tell them you’re sick and will call to reschedule when you can.”
“It doesn’t work that way in my world,” she said. Her breathing had quickened, her beautifully sculpted nose flaring with the effort. “If I can’t make my obligations, my clients, my powerful, rich, and unforgiving clients, are going to hire someone else, someone who they can depend on to do the job. My world is one of deadlines. Quick, harsh, you’d-better-meet-them-or-else deadlines. Calling in sick to cancel, whether real or otherwise, is professional suicide.”
Her arms were crossed over her chest again, the corners of her lips pointed down toward her chin.
“Would you prefer to honor those commitments knowing someone, someone who doesn’t hesitate to kill those around him he considers inconvenient, is looking for you? And just say you do go to your scheduled appointments. Forget the danger you’re putting yourself in by doing so. Have you thought about the danger you’re putting your clients in?”
The space between her eyebrows pulled into a thin, tight line.
“What are you talking about?”
“The man who I think ordered these hits today has shown, many times before, that collateral damage means nothing to him.”
“Collateral damage?”
“Yes. In order to get to you, he wouldn’t think twice about having your clients killed as well. He doesn’t leave witnesses behind. Ever.”
Her color blanched and for a moment, Ky thought she’d faint.
“I’m sorry to be so blunt about it,” he said, softening his tone, “but you need to understand the gravity of this situation. Two of my men died today, just for doing their job. I’m sure you wouldn’t want the same fate for your clients.”
“N-no,” she said, her head shaking violently. “No. I wouldn’t.”
Ky nodded. “Then please, just do as I ask. I’m only trying to keep you and everyone else around you safe.”
They stood, silent, each watching the other.
Gemma Laine was a woman used to being in control of her life, not relinquishing that control to anyone. He’d figured that out within five minutes of meeting her. Ky hated the fear and uncertainly he saw in her eyes now, knowing he�
�d forced her to confront the reality before her.
“How is your knee feeling?” he asked, wanting to divert her thoughts. She’d only been limping a little from the car to the inside of the house, but he knew the emergency room doctor had given her something for the pain before discharging her.
Her delicate shoulders rose once in a careless shrug and she took a deep breath. “It’s tolerable.”
Ky remembered how bruised it had looked when he’d seen her in the x-ray suite. It had already started turning deep purple and green, and he knew from experience the stiffness that accompanied the hurt would be worse in the morning.
“The ER doc gave you something to take with you for the pain, didn’t he?”
“I’d rather just ice it down. I hate taking pills.”
Because he did as well, Ky didn’t push the point. “Do you want to go upstairs and lie down for a while? You’ve had a pretty exhausting day.”
Gemma shook her head and when the fringe of her bangs swished across her smooth skin, Ky felt that sudden, increasingly familiar tightening in his midsection.
“I need to do some work,” she said. “I’ll rest later.”
“Whatever you want,” he said.
Gemma turned and, with care, walked to the stairs, her cameras slung across her shoulder. Ky watched her plod up the steps, her uninjured leg taking most of the weight. He knew her knee was sore, but instinct told him she would never admit it. Another thing he’d learnt about Gemma Laine since meeting her was she was a woman who would never show weakness. To do so was tantamount to an admission of frailty. And frailty was not a word in her vocabulary.
While she made her way up to her room, Ky slipped out of his jacket and laid it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs, then opened the refrigerator and took stock of their provisions. The house was kept well supplied with non-perishables in the event it needed to be used quickly. When he’d been ordered to move Gemma, he’d called one of his men to ensure there was enough to last them for a few days. He hoped they wouldn’t be staying longer.
With his encrypted work laptop on the counter, he booted up the electronic files and pictures of the Calafano murder scene. Once again, he thought Gemma’s photographs were perfect in their detail. When viewed one after the other, they almost looked like a video. The former mob accountant walking down the street, a smug expression on his face, his ample stomach pushing through in front of him one minute, his white shirt drenched with a streaming flow of blood the next. Ky could almost feel the impact the first bullet made when it hit its mark, just from the expression Gemma had captured on Calafano’s face. Lips curled back in what had to be agony, eyes bulging wide with shock, and hands flailing backward to break his fall, his face was a portrait in stunned alarm and terror. The pictures of Ky’s men as they, too, felt the impact of the bullet’s stream were haunting, detailed, and exceptional.
