Live-In Lover

by Lyn Stone

  “And if I do go? What will do you do?”

  “Hide,” she said, deciding that was the best option, anyway, whether Damien left or not. “I’ll hide until Ford comes home.”

  But there would still be the problem of convincing Ford that he shouldn’t kill Jack. Reasoning with him would be impossible. Maybe she still stood a better chance with Damien. She sat up, reached over and took one of his hands in hers. “Look, I just don’t want you going off the deep end, huh?”

  “You’re right, of course.” Damien ran a hand through his tousled hair and nodded. Then he gently pushed her back against the pillows again, pulled the covers from beneath her body and settled them over her.

  “This has gone beyond phone calls and scary tricks, Molly. The police need to kick in some help. Tomorrow I’ll see that they do. Meanwhile, put it out of your mind. I plan to do the same for tonight.”

  For a moment he just looked at her lying there, his expression unreadable. “Don’t say no, Molly. I have to do this,” he told her softly. Then he lifted the covers, got in bed and stretched out full-length beside her.

  She didn’t move a muscle.

  If he kissed her now, she wouldn’t have the least bit of will to say no to anything he wanted. But Damien merely snuggled her against him, wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. He found sleep a lot more quickly than she did.

  The next morning Damien took Molly on to Clarkston, intending to stay only long enough to help her explain the past day’s happenings to her mother. He hadn’t counted on their combined effort to make him stay for lunch. It was almost as if they were afraid for him to return to Nashville.

  For no other reason than to set Molly’s mind at ease, he agreed. While the women put together sandwiches and salad, Damien kept an eye on the baby. She toddled around the old-fashioned living room, picking up objects one by one and bringing them to him like gifts. “Dere,” she would say with that wide, foolish grin, and go for another prize.

  After a while, he sat on the sofa surrounded by knickknacks, crocheted dresser scarves, and several small toys. Then she proceeded to climb up his legs and into his lap.

  “Proud of yourself?” he asked.

  She patted his chest with her open palms. “Dammit,” she announced.

  Damien glanced through the dining room into the kitchen. “Best not broadcast that word,” he advised her. “Mom and Granny will not be happy, Sydney.”

  She curled her hands to her stomach. “Chiddy.”

  “Oh, I see. Names. You’re Chiddy and I’m Dammit. We need to work on your pronunciation, don’t you think?” He tickled her neck with one finger. She giggled and threw herself against him.

  Damien laughed with her. One by one, he picked up each find she had brought to the sofa and said the name for it, chuckling with delight when she gave him a garbled approximation of each word. “You’re a sharp cookie, aren’t you, my girl?”

  He heard a sound and looked up to see Molly standing in the doorway of the dining room, frowning. “What’s wrong?” he asked, lifting Sydney down from his lap, standing her on her feet.

  For a moment Molly didn’t answer, then she came into the room and took the baby. “Time for her nap,” she said, and whisked her away.

  Damien wondered why his getting better acquainted with Sydney troubled Molly. Was it because he had admitted he knew nothing about babies? Did she fear he would hurt her?

  When she returned, headed back toward the kitchen, he stopped her. “What did I do?”

  “Nothing,” she answered, avoiding his eyes. “It’s just not a great idea for her to get attached to you, that’s all.”

  “Why not?”

  She did look at him then, a faintly accusing expression on her face. “Because you’ll soon be leaving, Damien. If she gets used to having you around, she’ll miss you.”

  They went in to lunch without discussing it any further. He was in no position to promise he would stay, and had no idea whether Molly would want him to, even if he could. It might be best if he left the child alone, and not just for her sake. If he grew any more fond of her, he would probably miss her, as well. He would have problems enough leaving Molly.

  As soon as they finished the meal, he left with a promise to call them as soon as there were any further developments. Police headquarters was his first destination.

  When Damien arrived at the main precinct, he identified himself properly. He also stated that his request for help was not official, thereby avoiding the usual suspicion of jurisdictional encroachment. This was not a case for the FBI. Yet.

  Fortunately, he drew a young detective called Mitch Winton, a fairly recent addition to the force. Consequently, Winton knew nothing at all about the Jensens or Jack’s prior arrest until he obtained the file.

  After he read it and heard about Jack’s antics since his release, Damien had little trouble convincing him to investigate. He followed Damien to Molly’s house to gather what evidence they could on the previous night’s attempt on her life.

  The minute they turned into the driveway, Damien saw that the garage door was closed.

  Winton pulled in behind Damien and got out of his unmarked car. “Do you have a key?”

  “It shouldn’t be locked.” He walked up the garage door and it opened easily. One of the neighbors might have closed it, but he didn’t think so.

  Together, he and the detective entered. “Both the garage and the kitchen doors were open when we left,” Damien declared. “And the hive is missing. He’s been here.”

  “I’ll ask around,” Winton said. “See if anybody saw anything. No bees left,” he noted unnecessarily.

  Damien searched along the baseboards in the corner where Molly had crouched after she’d been stung. Finally, a little luck. “Here are two dead ones.”

  Winton pulled an envelope out of his pocket and scooped them up on it. “Regular ol’ honeybees, looks like. Can’t prove anything from these, I’m afraid. I will certainly question Mr. Jensen about it. You can be sure of that. He’ll deny any knowledge of it, y’know.”

  “Will you put a tail on him?” Damien asked.

  The detective shook his head. “Wish I could. It’s not that I don’t believe your concerns are valid, Agent Perry, but we just don’t have enough on the man to justify surveillance. He’d holler harassment.”

  “Great,” Damien growled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What do you suggest?”

  “Frankly, I can’t help you much. He comes within a hundred yards of Mrs. Jensen or tries to communicate with her in any way, then we can arrest him.”

  “And he’d be out within a couple of hours,” Damien said.

  “That’s the way it works,” Winton verified. “He’s got a free run until he does something to break the law.” He looked around the garage and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Something worse than this.”

  “Worse than attempted murder,” Damien said with disgust.

  “Attempted murder that leaves some kind of clue he’s guilty,” Winton added, glaring down at the insects he held. “Something besides two dead bees.”

  Well, he would have to take matters into his own hands, Damien decided.

  “Call me immediately if he gives you any more trouble,” Winton said. “I promise I’ll do whatever I can.” After offering sincere apologies about the restrictions of the law they were both so familiar with, Detective Winton left.

  Damien feared if he brought Molly back home, Jensen might be successful next time. God only knew the man possessed a wicked imagination when it came to this kind of thing. He had probably been dreaming up creative things to do to Molly for two long years.

  She couldn’t stay hidden in Clarkston forever. Even if Molly were willing to do that, she would have to get a job. Social security numbers were too easy to trace. Jensen would find her. This situation needed settling now, while he was here to help her.

  Damien went back into the house, showered, changed, packed clothing for Molly and collected his ow
n things. Then he locked up when he left. It appeared that he and Molly were on their own when it came to stopping Jensen, and she should have a say in what Damien intended to do next.

  “I think it’s brilliant!” Molly exclaimed and clapped her hands. “I just wonder why we didn’t think of it before!”

  “I’m doing this alone,” Damien declared.

  “No, you’re not. If you don’t take me with you, I’ll be right behind you. You know that’s no bluff. I need to do this, Damien.”

  “Why? You asked me to help you. Now trust me to handle it.”

  She lifted that determined chin. “Because I’m sick of being a victim and acting like one, that’s why. I’m ready to take the offensive.” She paused, looked from him to her mother and back again. “Offense is better than defense, right?”

  Her mother objected. No surprise there. “It’s crazy, is what it is,” she said. “Dangerous, too. Molly, you’re going to stay right here with me. If Damien wants to tweak Jack’s tail and make him even madder, you let him do it by himself.”

  Molly leaned forward over the kitchen table and squeezed her mother’s arm. “But, Mama, don’t you see the beauty of it? Stalking the stalker! Give him a taste of his own medicine. I can help Damien, and I need to do this. Jack’s either going to get rattled, make a wrong move and get busted, or leave town for good.”

  “Or kill you both!”

  Damien interceded. “Look, Brenda, if you have a better idea, I’m perfectly willing to listen. I’ve run dry of alternatives.” He sighed. “And as much as I dislike taking her along, the plan might be more effective if Molly’s there to advise me on Jensen’s vulnerabilities.”

  He didn’t seem very happy about having her go with him, but to his credit, he had realized she was right about her input.

  They both looked at her. “Hey, I’m in this all the way. I think Jack’s already done his worst with the bees. He knew that was my biggest fear in the world and that’s why he put them there. Nothing he could ever do would terrify me more. Last night’s the last time he’ll catch us by surprise. We’ll keep him so busy, he won’t have time to arrange anything else.”

  “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

  “No, Mama, you can’t, and neither can Damien.” She shot him a pointed look. “So when do we begin?”

  “Now is as good a time as any. The earlier we get started, the sooner we’ll see if this works.”

  Molly found it much more difficult to say goodbye to Sydney this time. Her Syd, sleeping peacefully on her tummy with her fingers in her mouth, trusting everyone she knew and loved to look after her. Best to make it quick. Molly leaned over and brushed her lips across the feather-soft red curls. “’Bye, love,” she whispered. “Be sweet for Maw Maw.”

  She grinned when she heard her mother’s whispered response to Damien. “If the kid actually ever calls me that, I’m going to spank her mother.”

  “Maw Maw’s not that bad,” he replied softly. “Sydney calls me Dammit.”

  Molly breezed through the bedroom door, stopping for a hug and swift farewell to her mother. “Thanks for looking after Syd, Mama. I owe you.”

  “Like I expect anything for keeping my own grandchild!” She scoffed. “You just keep yourselves safe, both of you.”

  Damien escorted Molly out and into the Explorer. When he got in, he buckled up and sat there for a minute, one arm propped against the window, looking impatient. “You’re determined?”

  “Absolutely. Let’s do it.”

  “All right, but there are ground rules. Do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you. No protests or questions. Agreed?”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” she promised with a salute.

  He cranked the car, backed out onto the deserted street and they were on their way. “We’re not staying at your house,” he told her. “It’s too dangerous. We’ll be moving around.”

  “Okay. What do we do?”

  “Find and follow him, see what kind of mischief we can make. Basically rattle his cage. It won’t be as easy as it sounds, Molly. We need to be there, right behind him, consistently, while maintaining that hundred yards distance. We take turns at watch, so you’ll have to sleep when I tell you, and keep your eyes open and stay alert when it’s your turn.”

  “What about bathroom breaks?” she asked.

  Damien smiled his approval. “A practical question. I won’t bother to tell you what male agents do when we team up on surveillance. That wouldn’t help you much. All I can advise is to drink very little coffee and thank your stars the vegetation’s plentiful in Nashville.”

  “Behind the bushes,” Molly guessed with a grimace. “Okay. What about meals?”

  “Junk food works. We’ll stock up.”

  Molly remained silent for a long time, almost unwilling to make her next, even more practical inquiry. Finally she heaved a sigh and voiced it. “What if he turns on us, Damien? What do we do then?”

  “Deal with it,” he replied with a nod. “If he pulls a weapon, he’s done for, but I don’t believe he will. Any other kind of confrontation won’t be a problem for us, but it certainly will be for him.”

  Molly almost hoped Jack would be so foolish. “I don’t know exactly how he’ll react, but he won’t put up with this for long.”

  “I’m counting on that. All we have to do is find him and stay behind him until he cracks,” Damien affirmed as he pulled into an all-night grocery. “Jerky, Squeezit-Juice and Twinkies will do for me. How about you?”

  Molly sighed and unbuckled her seat belt. “My all-time favorite meal. Double that order while I find the ladies’ room.”

  They staked out the Jensen estate just before dawn. Even Jack had to sleep. Even if he were on the other side of town watching the house, waiting for her to come back there, he would have to return home eventually.

  Molly had kicked back in the front passenger seat and was nibbling the last of the doughnuts Damien had bought for their breakfast. “What if he’s in there and decides to sleep all day?” she asked. She had to admit her patience could use some work. They’d been here only two hours and already she’d grown tired of the game. “Do you do this much?” she asked.

  “Surveillance?” he asked, looking amused. “Yes. It’s one of the most boring aspects of the job, but sometimes necessary.”

  She nodded, taking in the high shrubbery and trees that surrounded the Explorer. Through a break in the foliage, she could see the gates to the Jensen property. One of the dogs was poking his nose through the spaces in the wrought-iron gate.

  “Ah, opportunity knocks,” Damien said. He reached over the seat and pulled a package of jerky out of the food sack. Molly watched him rub the food between his hands and then get out of the car.

  Sprinting across and down the street, he slowed as he approached the stone wall. Casually, he strolled past the gates and tossed the dried meat through to the dogs. He was humming when he returned and got in.

  “Making friends?” she asked. “It won’t work. They’re killers.”

  He only smiled. Molly got the distinct feeling he had done this before. “Do they have names?” he asked.

  She laughed and popped open a soft drink. “Prissy and Minx.” Damien nodded, but didn’t answer. The hour dragged on as the sun rose and began to dispel the morning chill.

  Suddenly, a high-pitched whistle sounded and the dogs flew away from the gate. Moments later, it opened and Jack’s car pulled through.

  “This is Control. Subject is on the move, heading North,” Damien said in a mock serious monotone as though he spoke over a radio. He was poking fun at her, Molly realized. This was a new side to Damien. She decided she liked it.

  “Backup in place,” she replied in kind. “Let’s roll.”

  She marveled at the way Damien operated. He managed to keep Jack’s car in sight without getting close enough to be spotted. “Don’t we want him to see us?” she finally asked.

  “He got a glimpse,” he replied. “But he’s not sure yet. Watch.
”

  Jack’s Mercedes made a swift left turn and sped down a side street. Damien continued straight, turned left at the next opportunity and fell in several cars behind Jack as he pulled onto the Loop. After a mile or so, it was obvious they’d been made again. Molly laughed and slapped her knee. “I love it!”

  For nearly an hour they played cat and mouse. Damien would drop back out of sight and then turn up again. Jack narrowly missed hitting another car, he was so busy looking in his rearview mirror.

  “Enough for now,” Damien declared. “Time to let him rest.”

  “Why?” Molly complained. “This was just getting good!”

  “You want it to be over,” Damien accused as he wheeled into a Gulf station and pulled up to the tank. “If we’re planning to twist him into knots, this has to last awhile. Besides, I know where he’s going.”

  “You were joking about my having to use the bushes, right?”

  He grinned. While Damien pumped gas, Molly took advantage of the facilities and bought hot coffee. It was going to be a great day. Best she’d had in weeks. She could tell already.

  Chapter 9

  This couldn’t be happening. Jack maneuvered his way through the downtown traffic, glaring angrily at one mirror then the other. That damned black SUV again! It was the same one, wasn’t it?

  He squinted, trying to see who was in the car, but the windows were tinted too dark. It would be just like Molly to set a detective on his ass. Nah. She couldn’t afford it.

  Was it the new boyfriend, Perry, maybe? That wasn’t the Lexus he’d been driving.

  Cops? Couldn’t be. They had nothing on him. Nothing! He’d been too careful for that. No prints, no calls from any of his own phones. He’d even stolen the hive. They couldn’t trace a damn thing he’d done. No earthly reason for them to tail him.

  His next guess was Ford, but he quickly rejected that idea. The school where Ford’s wife worked had said she wouldn’t be back for at least two more weeks. Besides, he knew if Ford Devereaux had come after him, he wouldn’t be hanging back following the car. Jack wasn’t scared of the jerk, he told himself. He was just smart enough to not underestimate him.