Affair Of Risk

by Jayne Castle

  She knew she was not alone in the long hall the moment she stepped out of the elevator. Small prickles of alertness were dancing across her shoulders, raising the fine hair at the back of her neck.

  What was the matter with her? She was overreacting to the memory of the dark figure she'd spotted on the way back. That must be it. But she'd been taught to heed her body's senses, and so she didn't completely close her mind to the possibility of danger. It was remote but it was there.

  And when she crossed the junction of another connecting hall, she knew for certain something was wrong. Very coolly she refrained from the temptation of glancing at the dark male figure who stood supposedly fumbling with a door key.

  It wasn't Case, which put a whole new light on the situation. A very dangerous light. Telling herself to be calm, Kendra withdrew her room key from the muff and fitted it to her door lock. Her adrenaline was flowing now, pumping faster and faster through her veins.

  She did not allow the sudden increase in energy and alertness to destroy her outward calm. She forced herself to think and act coolly, deliberately, professionally.

  She walked into the thickly carpeted room and turned with great casualness to close the door. As she had known there would be, a man appeared suddenly in the opening.

  "May I help you?" she asked with mocking politeness, her hand on the door. He was a sleazy looking character, she decided dispassionately, lacking Wolfs interesting flair as well as his scars. This man didn't look as if he'd fought his way to his current station in life. He looked as if he'd arrived via more slimy, less physical means.

  He was of an indeterminate age, probably late thirties,

  with a knife blade of a nose, a thin frame, and hard blue eyes. He also didn't look overly intelligent. His rather worn suit implied his current job didn't pay well, but then Kendra decided this was the sort of man who could make a new suit of clothes look old and shabby within minutes of putting it on. Some attempt had been made to control his straggling sandy hair with hair oil, but it hadn't been very effective.

  "Miss Kendra Loring?" he rasped, stepping over the threshold and reaching for the edge of the door.

  "What do you want?" she asked placidly.

  "A little information," he told her derisively.

  "Sorry, you'll have to get in line. You're not the only one looking for information from me tonight." Kendra firmly pushed the door shut, only to have him retaliate with a strong shove.

  "No jokes tonight, lady. I ain't in the mood."

  Kendra carefully stepped out of her high-heeled sandals. "If you don't leave me alone, I will call the front desk," she announced icily.

  "You'll never make it to the phone," he told her with a slow, anticipatory smile.

  "Did Radburn send you?" she inquired with apparent interest, her eyes never leaving his pinched face. This was a man who would telegraph his actions, and he was clearly confident that because he was facing a woman, he was in complete control.

  "You and I are going to have a little talk," he hissed, moving with abrupt force into the room and yanking the door shut behind him. "And just to make sure you don't get any clever ideas about screaming ..."

  He started toward her with outstretched hands.

  CHAPTER THREE

  What happened next took place so quickly, so efficiently, and so automatically, Kendra didn't have time to be astonished at her own ability. She only knew the skill was there when she needed it, just as her instructor had promised.

  In the short span of time it took for the weasellike man to reach for her, Kendra's mind switched gears. In a flash she was standing barefooted on the mat back in the San Francisco dojo, dressed in the loose white trousers and jacket called a judo-gi. The man coming toward her seemed incredibly off-balance to her trained eye, and she waited for him almost impatiently.

  The technique she used would have appeared deceptively easy to an observer, who would have no way of knowing the importance of timing to the success of the throw.

  When the attacking man grasped her, Kendra stepped backward about six inches, forcing him to move his weight onto his left foot in order to steady himself. She shifted her weight again, sweeping her opponent's left foot from under him with the sole of her right foot applied just under his ankle.

  Simultaneously she pulled down on his left lapel and used a pushing, circular motion with his right sleeve. There was an astounded expression on the narrow, slit-eyed face as the man fell heavily to the green carpet. She had used his own momentum and weight against him with

  swift sureness, which had turned him from attacker to victim.

  As soon as the throw was completed Kendra stepped away, the hotel room snapping back immediately into focus. Something was wrong. The slimy man hadn't fallen the way her opponents at the dojo always fell. There had been a sharp crack, and he had landed in a too-silent sprawl at her feet.

  Her momentary exhilaration was squelched almost before it began. Alarmed, she dropped to her knees beside the limp figure. It occurred to her he must have struck his head on the edge of the long, low chest of drawers as he went down.

  The blood drained from her face, and her knuckles pressed agitatedly against her mouth as Kendra came alive to the fact that she might have seriously injured or even killed a man.

  Horrified at the paleness of the weasellike face, Kendra tried to pull her thoughts together and figure out what to do. Would anyone believe her when she explained the situation? With shaking fingers, she reached out to find the pulse at the base of the man's throat.

  She was fumbling for a sign of life in her victim when the hotel-room door swung open, and she glanced up with stunned eyes to see Case Garrett filling the doorway. She was irrationally glad to see him.

  "Case! Oh, God! I think I've killed him!"

  Without thinking Kendra scrambled to her feet, hurling herself toward the grim-faced man as he stepped silently into the room and shut the door. She was only dimly aware of his arms coming out to catch and hold her as she threw herself against the unexpectedly comforting hardness of his chest.

  "What the hell is going on here, Kendra?" he bit out as she buried her face against the slightly damp material of his evening jacket. A part of her mind registered the fact

  that he must have followed her without going back to his apartment to get his coat.

  "I'll explain later," she insisted frantically. "Do something, Case, I think he's dead! I didn't mean to kill him! I only meant to—"

  Without a word he disentangled himself from her frantically clinging embrace and set her gently aside.

  She watched, appalled, as he went down on one knee beside the fallen man and examined him with quick expertise.

  "Is he—"

  "He'll be fine," Case cut in brusquely, slanting a speculative, dark glance up at her alarmed features. "What did you do to him, Kendra?"

  "I—I threw him. He was coming at me, and I just threw him. I think he hit his head on that set of drawers when he went down, though." Kendra took a deep breath, struggling for control of her shaking voice.

  It was all right now. Case would know what to do next. Lord! Who would have thought things would get so complicated? You never worried about what to do after you'd downed your opponent while practicing. You didn't think about things like calling the police, having to fetch a doctor, or coming up with explanations. . . .

  "Who is he, Kendra?"

  Case's voice seemed suddenly quite hard to her. She glanced from the fallen man to the black-haired, one-eyed man at his side. Case not only sounded hard, he looked hard. Kendra swallowed as her rational faculties finally reasserted themselves. What did she really know about Case Garrett? There was absolutely no reason on earth to view him as a potential ally! This was his town, and he would know all the important people, such as the police and the owner of the hotel where she was staying. His loyalties would be clearly defined, and they wouldn't necessarily include her!

  "I—I don't know, Case," she began with greater caution, rapidly s
orting through her short list of options. She had her loyalties, too, and it was time she started remembering them. "He was waiting for me in the hall when I came back to my room. Are you sure he's going to be all right?"

  "I'm sure," Case remarked with evident lack of interest in that subject. He was reaching for the man's wallet, flipping open the worn leather folder to examine the few cards and papers inside. "His license says his name is Gilbert Phelps. Mean anything to you? He's a private investigator."

  "No. Case, do you think we should get him to a doctor? He might have a concussion or something."

  "I expect he's had worse in his time," Case retorted dispassionately, stuffing the wallet back into the man's coat pocket and getting to his feet. "But I think it is time we cleaned up the mess."

  Wide-eyed, she watched him walk calmly over to the telephone. She licked her dry lower lip anxiously before saying as coolly as possible, "Do you—uh—think it's necessary to call the police?"

  He gave her a level look. "I'm not calling the police."

  "Oh." She hoped the relief didn't show in her voice. She watched him dial, fascinated.

  "Get me Wolf," Case said with quiet authority as someone on the other end answered. He stood easily while he waited, his gaze never leaving Kendra's taut face.

  "Wolf, tell Johnny he's in charge for a while. I need you." Rapidly he gave the other man the name of Kendra's hotel and her room number. "No, she's fine," he concluded in response to some question from his assistant. "But at the moment she looks like a woman who may have gotten herself in over her head." He dropped the phone back onto its cradle just as the man on the floor groaned.

  Instantly Kendra's attention went back to her uninvited

  visitor. She stepped closer as Gilbert Phelps stirred painfully and opened his fierce blue eyes. The look he gave her was murderously and frustratedly angry.

  Kendra remembered how easy it had been to handle the man, and some of her inner anxiety faded. She ignored Case as she moved to stand staring down at Phelps.

  "Did Radburn send you?" she asked quietly.

  "What do you think?" Phelps muttered, touching his head with tentative fingers. "I'll get you for this," he went on forcefully, wincing.

  "I think there's been enough violence this evening," Case murmured, stepping forward into Gilbert Phelps's line of sight. "Let's not have any more threats."

  Phelps jerked in reaction as he realized Kendra was not alone. There was also a sudden look of understanding on his ratlike features. "So you're the one who hit me! What's the matter? Afraid to meet me face to face?" he demanded belligerently.

  "I didn't hit you," Case said with dangerous softness, which obviously had an impact on the man. "If I had, you wouldn't be waking up with only a small bump on the head. Now, suppose you answer the lady's question. Or would you rather do your explaining to the police?"

  Phelps sat up slowly, his eyes darting rapidly from Case to Kendra. "You won't be calling the cops," he charged. "She doesn't want them involved any more than I do!"

  Kendra bit her lip to stifle her response, as Case tossed her a quick, silencing glance.

  "Miss Loring will follow my advice in the matter," he told Phelps calmly. "And if I instruct her to involve the police, she will do so. Is that clear?"

  The man flashed an uneasy look at the quietly threatening man in front of him and obviously decided to try another tactic. "Look, there's no point calling the cops. Nobody's done anything—"

  "You think you can explain exactly what you're doing in this room?" Case invited.

  "Sure I can! She invited me in!" Gilbert Phelps announced with sudden conviction, making it clear he had decided on his line of defense. "She lured me up here, and then tried to steal my wallet."

  "Why, you cheap, two-bit punk!" Kendra exclaimed, infuriated at being unjustly accused.

  "That's enough, Kendra," Case told her coolly. "I'll handle this."

  Kendra heard the hard metal in his deep voice and found herself obeying. She knew she shouldn't be relinquishing control of the situation to Case, but for the life of her, she wasn't sure how to avoid doing so at that moment. Case seemed very much in charge and likely to remain so.

  "You forget, Phelps, the lady has me for a witness. And in this town I can promise you the cops will take my word long before they take yours, especially given the physical evidence. Do you believe me?"

  Gilbert Phelps lapsed into a sullen expression that told its own story. "I only wanted to talk to her. Get some information," he muttered.

  "For whom?" Case pressed almost gently. Kendra shivered at the tone of his voice and knew it had had an effect on Phelps, too.

  "A—a client. Look, I wasn't going to hurt her, dammit, I—"

  "Who was paying you for the information?" Case repeated patiently, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a casualness that fooled no one.

  "She knows," Phelps snapped.

  "It was Radburn?" Kendra breathed.

  Phelps shrugged.

  "What did Radburn want to know?" Case drawled. "He thought this lady would know where his wife is,"

  Gilbert Phelps admitted harshly. "He paid me to ask her a few questions, that's all." His slitty glance was on Kendra's carefully blank face. "But he didn't pay me enough to get myself into this kind of mess. I just quit!"

  "Yes," Case agreed pleasantly, nodding. "You did. Remember that in the future if you're tempted to get back on Radburn's payroll. Because next time I might be tempted to take a more forceful hand in your early retirement. . . ."

  There was a quick, hard knock on the door, and Kendra whirled, startled.

  "It's all right," Case told her. "That'll be Wolf. Let him in."

  Wolf surveyed the scene with a professional eye as Kendra opened the door and stepped aside. "The lady get herself in a bit of trouble, boss?"

  "I'm afraid so, Wolf. This gentleman needs to be shown the back door. Would you mind playing the gracious host?"

  "Sure, Case," Wolf said, turning to smile soothingly at Kendra as he stepped toward Phelps. The smile had the same sharklike quality Case's had on occasion. Not soothing at all.

  "Now, just a minute," Gilbert Phelps began, beginning to sound panicked.

  "Don't worry, Wolf won't hurt you, will you, Wolf?"

  "Nope," Wolf assured the fallen man cheerfully, reaching down to lift him unceremoniously to his feet. "Not if you behave yourself. Say good-bye to the lady."

  Phelps ignored that instruction, contenting himself with a glare instead. At the door, Case stopped both men temporarily with a last reminder.

  "You will remember our little discussion, Phelps? You'll vet your potential employers a bit more thoroughly in the future?"

  "I'm out of this mess, don't worry," Phelps agreed,

  stifling a groan as he touched his tender head. "Radburn doesn't pay enough for this kind of treatment!"

  Wolf calmly shut the door behind himself and his new acquaintance. Kendra watched them disappear, her mind churning. She continued to stare blankly at the closed door until Case's words brought her head around with a snap.

  "Get your things together, Kendra. I'm taking you home." "Home!"

  "My home," he clarified, his mouth twisting in a grim smile.

  "Back to the casino? But I don't want to go back, Case." She waved an all-encompassing hand, indicating the scene in her room. "I appreciate what you did by helping me get rid of Gilbert Phelps, but it doesn't change anything. I'll be leaving first thing in the morning."

  "To report back to Donna?" he inquired, one brow lifting slightly.

  "It's really none of your business, Case," she told him in a controlled tone, eyeing him intently for a clue as to how involved he planned to get.

  "It is now. Pack your suitcase."

  She stood her ground, chin lifting. "Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?" she demanded quietly.

  "The man who is going to get some answers to questions that were neatly sidestepped earlier this evening." He swung his gaze ar
ound the room, spotting the half-packed suitcase at once and heading toward it.

  "Don't you dare!" Kendra snapped as he hauled her few items out of the closet and dumped them into the bag. She started forward angrily, not quite certain how she was going to go about stopping him but determined not to let him take over completely.

  "Use your head," he growled, not paying any attention to her advance. "As long as Phelps knows where you are,

  you aren't safe. Or maybe he isn't safe," Case added thoughtfully as he closed and latched the bag. "I don't think he'll be back, but it's conceivable he'll summon up enough guts to call Radburn and tell him what happened."

  "Don't be ridiculous! There's nothing more Radburn can do tonight. I'm sure he's still in Los Angeles. And even if he did show up, or send someone else, I can deal with it!"

  "Oh, hell," Case gritted, hoisting the suitcase after a last check of the bathroom. "You got lucky one time, and now you think you're the latest thing in avenging amazons!"

  "It wasn't luck. It was skill!" she stated proudly. "Put down that suitcase, dammit. I'm not going anywhere!"

  "Just watch," he advised succinctly, taking her arm. "Unless of course you want to try some of your tricks on me."

  "Listen to me," she pleaded, trying for a rational approach. "Whatever else he is, Radburn isn't a—-a hood. He wouldn't really hire someone to hurt me. He just wants some answers." She hoped.

  "It sounds like he and I have something in common," Case murmured, propelling her gently but firmly toward the door. "But I prefer to ask my questions in person."

  "I'm not going with you tonight, Case—"

  "And I don't intend to go back to the casino and worry about you all evening," he countered, softening the words with a smile.

  "There's no need to worry," she began, pouncing on the slight gentling in him. "I'll be fine, really."

  "Not after I tell the front desk what just happened up here in this room," he retorted silkily.

  Kendra whitened. "You wouldn't!"

  "I know the owner of this hotel," he went on smoothly. "It will take me about five minutes to convince him he doesn't need you as a guest."