by Debra Webb
Jana blinked. “What about my car?” She swallowed back another wave of nausea. The windshield was a mess, the upholstery was damaged, and there was probably a big dent where he’d collided with that motorcycle. The spare tire was one of the smaller ones that likely had no rubber left on it after Dylan’s evasive maneuvers. “And... and a police report?”
“You’ve done your civic duty and called in the reckless drivers.” He pointed at the windshield. “I’ll get someone to fix the car. It’s not a big deal. You have bigger priorities.”
He was so calm.
Emerging from the car, her hands shook and her knees felt like jelly. She seized the tote bag when he handed it to her. With her purse over her shoulder, she kept her eyes on his back as she followed him through the lobby and up to a room.
Someone wanted her dead.
Dylan was relieved she hadn’t broken down. No tears, no temper, just a blank look in those soft green eyes. He pulled out a chair, urged her to sit down, and then handed her a bottle of water from the mini-fridge.
“Thank you.” She held the bottle, stared blankly at it.
He’d heard computerized voices exhibit more emotion. “Hey.” He opened the water for her. “Look at me, Jana. You’re safe.” He watched her wide eyes working to focus on his face. “Why don’t you take a few minutes?” He pointed to the bathroom. “Grab a shower or something.”
“I don’t have clean clothes,” she said, looking lost. “I don’t –”
Her clothing wasn’t dirty, but he understood she was close to going into shock. “Wash your face, let your hair down.” He suddenly wanted to see all that lush hair tumbling about her face as it had been when he’d awakened her this morning. He cleared his throat, banishing that tempting image. “Go on. I’ll order lunch.”
When Jana had closed the bathroom door, he ordered pizza before calling Claudia. She didn’t have any news on yesterday’s drive-by. He waited, listening to her fingers tapping as she logged in today’s incident. Without having to ask, Claudia arranged for a garage to pick up and repair Jana’s car ASAP.
“I need background on Sam Maguire,” he added quietly.
On the other end of the line, the tapping of keys ceased. “Senator Clayton’s chief of staff?” Claudia asked.
“That’s the one.” Dylan glanced at the bathroom door, hoping Jana would take a bit more time. Claudia’s fingers rattled over her keyboard again. “How many monitors do you have?” he teased, opting to lighten the tension. Or maybe he just needed to distract himself from the idea that Jana might be taking her clothes off on the other side of that door. Damn him. He wasn’t supposed to allow this to happen.
A pause on the phone was followed by a flurry of typing. “More than you have,” Claudia tossed back at him.
“Come on, Claudia. Tell me something about yourself.” He’d never met her in person, had no idea about her location. Once he’d signed the paperwork with the Guardian Agency, the attorney who’d hired him as a Protector had given him cash, a receipt showing a wire transfer to his bank account, and a cell phone programmed with Claudia’s name and number. He might not know her, but he liked her and he trusted her. She hadn’t once let him down.
“You’re incorrigible, Parker.”
“I hear the girls love a bad boy.”
Claudia snorted. “You’ve got a long way to go to be bad enough for me.”
He laughed, wondering what it would take to get a face-to-face with the tech genius who offered long-distance back up on his operations.
“All right,” she said. “The car’s easy, Parker. I’ll send a text when it’s back at your location. Taking a deeper look at Maguire will take a few hours.”
“What, I’m not your top priority?”
“You will be in thirty-two minutes.”
“Precise.” He wondered how many of the Protectors she assisted from wherever the agency had her tucked away.
“Always. Keep an eye on your charge, Parker, the latest headlines might upset her.”
The line went dead. Dylan dropped his phone on the desk alongside all the paperwork Jana had pulled from the office. He didn’t want to do it but, heeding Claudia’s warning, he turned on the television.
A reporter stood in front of the capitol building and declared Senator Clayton had been an adulterer. He insinuated the affair had continued despite the intervention of a marriage counselor. Marital strife would surely explain a man’s sudden distance from his daughter, Dylan considered.
“In light of this revelation, Senator Clayton’s suicide becomes less shocking,” the reporter assessed.
“Bull.”
Dylan turned from the television at Jana’s outburst. He watched her stroll toward the desk. She’d washed the makeup from her face and changed the tight bun into a loose braid that brushed her shoulders. Tossing her cardigan over the tote, she pulled her white blouse from the waistband of her slacks and released the top two buttons.
The gap only exposed a scalloped edge of lace, but the effect stirred his senses and had him holding his breath in hopes of seeing more. With effort, he pulled his mind back to the job. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to call it what it is.” She hit the mute button when the newscaster moved to the next headline. “There is no way he had an ongoing affair or any affair at all.”
“You’re sure about that?”
She shook her head. “Absolutely. Before you tell me it explains his reticence and secrecy, I’ll remind you of the letter he wrote me.”
Dylan flipped off the television. “Anyone can put anything on paper.”
“He was faithful. To both wives.” She shook her head and reached for the tote. “I’m telling you he didn’t have time for an affair. Did they even name the other woman or the counselor?”
“No.”
“See? Mudslinging. Camille can clear up that nonsense with a short statement.”
He wasn’t so sure. People scooped up scandal and politics like chips and salsa. “Will she?”
Dylan had the basics on Camille, Jana’s stepmother, but he didn’t know anything about what sort of woman she was. The senator’s first wife died when Jana was in seventh grade. Camille, a businesswoman and occasional lobbyist, crossed paths with the senator about a year later. They married Jana’s junior year of high school. Those were the facts, but what he wanted was the real story.
“Assuming we can get her out of bed and in front of a camera,” Jana muttered. “If she doesn’t make a statement by tomorrow, I’ll ask Sam to issue something. They certainly didn’t listen to anything I had to say.” Jana shook her head. “First depression and now adultery, these rumors have to stop.”
Dylan couldn’t see the reason for discrediting a dead man and trying to kill Jana, but there would be one. Someone was going to way too much trouble for it to be otherwise. Who needed to do both? He checked his watch. “Pizza will be here any minute. While we eat you can tell me what your dad worked on this past year.”
“Okay.”
The worry and pain in her eyes nagged at him. He wanted to give her a hug and reassure her that they’d figure this all out. Not a good idea. He was already battling a definite sexual attraction to the lady. Before he dared even touch her, he had to get his head on straight.
When the pizza arrived, he considered it a good sign that she actually ate two slices and downed a cola. Her appetite slowed as she explained more of the senator’s work.
“Dad’s death has to be policy related.” She gathered her paper napkin and plate and dumped both in the trash can by the desk. “There are some big votes in the next session,” she added, reaching for the briefcase. “There isn’t anything else I’m aware of. Still, it seems incredible that someone would have killed him to change a vote. Why him? Why not any other senator who planned to vote as my dad would have?”
“There are those who kill for less every day,” Dylan offered. “Your dad’s opinion could have been the one the killer saw as the most influential.”
<
br /> A frown lined her soft brow. “I suppose that’s a viable possibility.”
While Jana laid out the hot topics, he made notes on his laptop of things he would ask Claudia to investigate. “I want to see the hate mail,” he said, getting up and pacing to the window. “People don’t typically go from mad to murder without a few steps in between. There may be something in any nasty mail he received.”
“Have you dealt with many murder cases?”
More than his share. “Enough.”
“Before or after you became a bodyguard?”
“Yes.”
“Gee, thanks for the insight, Mr. Transparency.”
He grinned at her sarcasm. “This isn’t about me, it’s about you and your dad.”
She opened her mouth and snapped it shut again. Returning to the paperwork, she flipped through one stack after another. “Here.” She handed him three separate stacks of paper secured with heavy binder clips.
“What’s this?”
She took a deep breath. “These were the policy issues Dad and I were most concerned about for the next session. I don’t consider any of them worthy of murder. Then again, there may have been something I was unaware of.”
She said the last with pain in her voice. The idea that her dad had kept something from her had cut deep. “If someone wanted your dad dead and it wasn’t about policy,” he suggested, “it had to be personal. I’m leaning more in that direction.” He might as well give it to her straight up. “The scenario goes better with how nervous the killer is getting with your resistance to the suicide theory and all the sudden rumors.”
Jana’s frown deepened. “My murder theory isn’t popular, but I didn’t accuse anyone. I didn’t even share it with anyone except Camille, Sam, and the police. Killing me only makes sense if someone doesn’t want me finishing the term and voting as Dad would have.”
“What if it’s both?” Where the political and personal vendetta scenarios intersected the suspect pool got much smaller. He kept that thought to himself. For the most part, Jana had narrowed the suspects way down with her own assessments. The realization would dawn on her soon enough.
Seeing two attempts on her life fail, Dylan suspected the killer would be beefing up his efforts.
He had a feeling the lady wouldn’t go down without a fight.
If he had anything to do with it, she wouldn’t be going down at all.
Chapter Four
Dylan thought his eyes might cross as they read and talked, evaluating and assessing issues and perceived threats. Hours later, after the remaining pizza was demolished all he wanted was a cold beer and a long stretch of silence. When he got the text message that Jana’s car had been returned, he jumped at the chance to take her home to more neutral territory. They’d both be more comfortable at her place anyway.
In the parking lot, Jana gave him an exuberant hug when she saw her car looking practically new. “How did you do that?”
“I didn’t do anything except make a call.” He stepped out of her reach for a closer examination of the shallow dent where he’d knocked the biker off the road. “It’s not perfect.”
“Close enough,” she said on a sigh as she walked around the vehicle. “All four tires are new. Even the upholstery’s fixed.” She opened the door and looked inside at the headrest. “How much do I owe you?”
“We’ll figure it out. Get in.” He didn’t want to give anyone time to take another shot at her. He wouldn’t risk having her give him another of those hugs either. The feel of her soft body pressed close was far too dangerous to his self-control.
He got plenty of the silence he’d wanted in the car. Instead of being relieved he wondered where her mind was wandering. By the time he turned into her driveway he was worried about her. With all that had happened he was a little surprised his truck was still there and in one piece. Whoever was trying to kill her would have the registration information by now and be annoyed when they found nothing that would disprove his cover story.
Let them sweat. He parked Jana’s car in her garage and hit the remote to lower the overhead door.
“You don’t have to come in,” she said, as he reached to pull the tote full of papers out of the back seat.
Maybe he wasn’t the only one needing a little distance. “Part of the service.” He smiled, but it didn’t ease the tension on her face, or the tension he felt. They were making progress, even if he hadn’t yet unraveled the plot involving her and her dad. Their tenuous working relationship seemed to be doing a dance of one step forward and then two back. As long as he kept the personal attraction under control they were good to go. “I need to make sure the house is clear otherwise you could walk into a trap.”
“The security system is on.”
“Do I need to give you the stats on how easy it is to beat those?” he asked as they walked in through the garage. She sighed, but didn’t argue while he checked windows, doors, and closets.
Finished with the walk-through, he hesitated in the foyer where she waited for him. “I should stay here tonight.” The two failed attempts on her life were far from the end of whatever was going on.
“No.” She said the word firmly, but her face gave away her uncertainty.
“Jana.” He thought they’d at least moved beyond this part.
“I need time alone.” She smoothed her hand over her sleek, chestnut hair. “Whatever is going on, it’s obvious I can’t resolve it without you and I sincerely appreciate your help.” She drew in a big breath. “The truth is, I need some space before we tackle Dad’s study tomorrow.”
The admission cost her, he knew that much. Yet, she didn’t waiver. The lady took independent and raised it right up to control freak. “I’ll be right outside.”
Her expression turned contrite. “Do you need a pillow or blankets?”
He shook his head. “I have everything I need.”
Another of those urges to grab her and give her a hug had him walking out without saying goodnight. He paused to listen as she locked up and armed the security system behind him.
He drove his truck around the block just to throw off anyone who might be watching, and then he parked where he had an unobstructed vantage point of Jana’s house. He couldn’t have the beer he wanted, but he could see if Claudia had anything new for him.
Booting up the rugged notebook computer he’d stowed in the console, he divided his attention between writing his daily report and watching Jana’s home. They might not have a lead yet, but he’d learned a lot just by observing a couple of the players. Mainly, he’d discovered a lot about the lady he was here to protect. The satisfaction felt nearly as good as the days when he’d been recognized as one of the best deputies in the Silver Bow County Sheriff’s Department.
He still wanted to have a look at the hate mail. Though the senator hadn’t taken it so seriously when he received it, that didn’t mean it wasn’t relevant now. Another thing nagging at Dylan was the prolonged silence of the second wife. Why didn’t Camille or Maguire, for that matter, contradict the depression and marital strife rumors immediately? As Clayton’s chief of staff, Maguire had surely gotten a heads up on the so-called newly discovered evidence of the senator’s infidelity.
Jana might be a jumble of twitchy emotions, but today was enough proof for anyone to recognize that the suicide theory was bogus. Dylan’s instincts were humming in that familiar keep digging way. She might not want him in the house, but whether she liked it or not, she needed him shadowing her twenty-four/seven until this was resolved.
If she went to the police now, recent events might or might not have them taking a second look at Clayton’s death. Unfortunately, that would be the slow path. Jana’s best bet for getting the truth as quickly as possible lay with him. He fully intended to see that she stayed safe while they found that truth.
His inbox warned he had a new message. He read the email from Claudia and his instincts revved again. Sam Maguire had been in Clayton’s social circle since high school. Both men
had been players on standout high school football and baseball teams. They had graduated from UT in Austin. Despite having chosen differing career paths, they remained golf and barbeque buddies. Maguire had come on the political scene at Clayton’s request during his first campaign.
“Claudia, you’re an angel,” he muttered, scrolling through the report. The men shared a financial interest in the oil business, but so did most of the old-money families around here. The Clayton family owned extensive oil rights, which explained why Clayton refused a salary as senator. Maguire’s finances weren’t nearly as solid as Clayton’s, but Dylan didn’t see any suspicious activity or a viable motive for murder—at least not yet.
Damn but Claudia was good. That was the one thing Dylan knew about his employer. He hired only the best. Dylan doubted he would ever meet the man who sent the assignments or the paychecks. The anonymity didn’t bother him. In fact, it suited him.
He closed down the electronics and returned his full attention to Jana’s house. This would be a hell of a lot easier if she’d let him crash on her couch. He remembered how she’d looked this morning with her rich chestnut hair spread across her pillow and reconsidered. The truck wasn’t comfortable, but it was definitely smarter. She was growing more comfortable with him suggesting trust, which was always a good thing. The downside to her growing trust was the questions about his personal life. He didn’t discuss his personal life with anyone, not even his family on the rare occasions he made it home for a visit.
His gaze lingered on Jana’s bedroom window and his body tightened. The reaction made him mad as hell. The lady needed his help, not his lust. Only once had he been tempted by a woman while on a case. He’d waited to ask her out until after the case was closed and through the courts, but she’d still been his downfall. He’d been in love and she’d been damn good at faking it while working a long con that culminated in murder. He’d paid dearly for that mistake. He’d lost the respect of his friends in the department and he’d lost his job. Worse, his dad had passed away three weeks later. Dylan never got the chance to prove his innocence and to show he was the honorable son his dad had raised. That was the part that hurt the most.
