Reluctant Hero

by Debra Webb

Parker knew he’d been manipulated. He just couldn’t work up much irritation over it. She was right. They needed the meal, the sense of normal conversation to push aside the last of the morning tension.

  He’d never been up to Sam’s home after it was complete, only to the garage and the computer lab, and on one emergency response to the lobby downstairs a few months ago. Until he met and married Madison, Sam had spent most of his time at the Gray Box offices.

  It was a temporary reprieve and all six of them knew it. An outsider would probably think they were three happy couples gathered for a relaxing weekend. While happy might apply to Rush and Lucy and Sam and Madison, he and Becca needed a different descriptor.

  By some tacit agreement, they kept the conversation on lighter topics while they made the most of the big sandwich platters and sides of potato salad, fruit and coleslaw Lucy and Madison had brought over.

  As Lucy passed a plate of chocolate chunk cookies around, Sam broached the topic with an apology.

  “Being such an introvert myself and so protective of our work, I thought it was hypocritical for me to poke into your searches, knowing you expected privacy,” Sam said to Parker. Turning to Becca, he added, “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m grateful,” she replied with a warm smile. “You were a huge help today. All of you.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Rush asked Parker.

  “Does everyone know the basics?” There was concern on each face around the table.

  “I filled in a few missing pieces while the doctor was working on you,” Becca said. “Resistance is futile,” she added with a quick flash of that smile.

  He kept expecting her to come to her senses and withdraw from him. She didn’t, staying close, showering him with inexplicable affection. Yes, they’d come through a harrowing morning, but he’d treated her poorly since rescuing her from the gala.

  Parker pulled out his phone and shared his latest efforts. “No word yet on the favor I called in at Homeland on the man with the scar. I thought it would help to know how he got into the country.”

  “I can follow up,” Madison offered. “Maybe a call from the State Department will light a few more fires. Do you think he is Iranian?”

  “I’m ninety-nine percent sure the person paying his way is.” He pulled up the pictures and handed her the cell phone. “Becca did sketches. I haven’t had a chance to send them out for facial recognition.”

  “I can help with that too,” Sam said. “We might find a trail of where he’s been around the city.”

  While Parker’s phone made the circuit around the table, he explained how he’d also sent reinforcements to help watch the backs of the other men on the list.

  Becca swiveled in her seat to face him, her knee bumping his. “You have offices in other cities?”

  “No. I made calls,” he said. “Traded a few favors among colleagues.”

  Her auburn eyebrows gathered in a thoughtful pucker over her freckled nose, but she didn’t say any more. He knew that look meant her mind was working overtime. Maybe she’d finally come to her senses.

  “I appreciate what you’ve all done.” This had been one of the toughest briefings of his life. Admitting his faults to clients who trusted him with their security wasn’t the way to keep them on board. “Staying here puts you in jeopardy.” He caught a speaking glance between Sam and Madison. “If you can help Becca get somewhere safe, I’ll send a protective detail with her.”

  “No,” Becca said flatly. “We still need to speak with the police.”

  His first instinct was to forbid her to leave Sam’s building until he took care of the assassin. As the words danced on the tip of his tongue, he realized how ridiculous such an order would sound. That didn’t even factor the uselessness of it. He could practically hear her laughing in his face. When she made a decision, she stuck with it. He just couldn’t figure out why she was sticking by him after what he’d done.

  “We can invite Detective Baird here,” Lucy suggested.

  “Or send you to his station by helicopter,” Rush added.

  Parker gave a snort. “By now, the team after us has probably acquired surface-to-air missiles.”

  “If you want to give a police statement, I can arrange that from the lab downstairs,” Sam said. “You can do phone, video or secure instant messaging. Whatever you prefer.”

  “Baird would prefer face-to-face,” Parker murmured.

  He would prefer to get Becca out of the way and set a trap for the man hunting his team. He’d assisted in the security design here. Sam’s building might as well be a fortress between the physical and technological barriers. They could hide in this building indefinitely, or until Sam’s generous hospitality wore out. Parker’s skin crawled at the thought of being trapped, being dependent on others to bring in supplies.

  The irony of it, considering he’d done the same thing with less explanation to Becca, put a knot in his stomach. He stood up, distancing himself from the group to stare through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He couldn’t enjoy Sam’s superb panoramic view.

  Someone was down there wreaking havoc on his team, on the city, on innocent bystanders.

  “I still haven’t heard from Tony,” he said abruptly. “Set it up so both Becca and I can check in with the police and we’ll go from there.”

  “On it,” Sam said.

  A few minutes later, while the others were chatting, Becca joined him at the window. “You have good friends,” she said softly.

  “They are.” In a terrifying flash he saw them all dead, the scarred man standing over the bodies, sneering at him. Similar artificial scenarios had bothered him in the past, usually before a mission. It wasn’t foresight, just the brutal awareness of how quickly a plan could go awry.

  He turned to look at her. “I considered asking you to stay put until the threat is contained.”

  Her lips twitched. “And you’ve reconsidered, I hope?”

  “Would you leave town?” he asked hopefully. “Think of it as a vacation.”

  She reached out and smoothed the shirtsleeve at his shoulder. “You’re kind of cute when you’re trying not to be a dictator.”

  “Could I convince you to cooperate with a twenty-four seven protective detail?”

  “Only if you’re on it,” she replied breezily.

  He’d never met a woman who could flirt over life and death. If this was flirting. Maybe she had a thing for the bad-boy types. He had a laundry list of credentials to back up that label. “Why are you here?”

  She lifted those big blue eyes, holding his gaze, but before she could answer, Sam called up from the lab, “We’re ready to roll.”

  * * *

  WHY ARE YOU still here? His question and how she could best answer it swirled in the back of Becca’s mind as they went down to Sam’s isolated computer lab. The obvious reply was that she could see Parker faltering under the weight of his burdens and she wanted to help. He was compounding his grief by stifling it. She knew because she’d seen a similar expression in the mirror after her mother died and her father pushed her away a little more each year.

  Alone wasn’t an ideal way to get through life. Sinking into work and calling it thriving in order to avoid personal attachments wasn’t the answer either.

  Lucy and Madison had cornered her as soon as the doctor had examined her, vowing to have their husbands help them have Parker drawn and quartered if he’d done something out of character and hurt her. He hadn’t, she assured them. He’d confused her, infuriated her and saved her life more than once. Through it all, he hadn’t hurt her.

  Yet. She kept that to herself.

  Deep down, she knew he could. Not physically, never that, but emotionally. Although that should scare her, she couldn’t seem to stop moving toward him. She recognized attraction and lust well enough. She knew
she had adrenaline-junkie tendencies, and the last few days had tested that facet of her personality. This was different. Parker signified something far more dangerous than all that.

  Why are you still here? It was only a matter of time before she had to answer that—for both of them. She hoped courage wouldn’t fail her.

  They were seated together at one of Sam’s workstations, and after the brief introductions, Detective Baird aimed most of his questions at Parker, starting with his statement on the explosion. He wasn’t happy they’d fled the scene, but he was very interested in Parker’s take on the details.

  “I left the key fob behind,” Parker was saying.

  She hadn’t seen him do that.

  “The thing went up like a Roman candle when I hit the remote starter.”

  Baird scowled as he made notes. “This guy wasn’t expecting that.”

  “No. Early detonation saved us.”

  While he explained Alan’s injuries, she shifted, rubbing his knee with hers so her support wasn’t too obvious.

  She appreciated that Parker kept up the reassuring knee-to-knee contact as she gave her account of the morning’s events.

  “Anything else you’d care to add, Mr. Lawton?”

  “I was aware they were tracking the car,” Parker said. “I’d planned to go straight from the condo to the police station.”

  She bit back the interruption. The tracking detail was news to her.

  “They must have set the bomb while I was inside with Ms. Wallace. Since Theo’s murder I regularly scan my car for threats. It was clean a few hours prior.”

  Detective Baird turned his focus on her. “Can you explain why you were staying there rather than your home?”

  She felt Parker tense up. Years of living and working with her father had honed her ability to deliver a role convincingly. Clearly he expected her to tell the detective she’d been kidnapped and locked in the safe room. “Mr. Lawton was concerned for me after I was attacked at the awards gala on Thursday night. He suggested I might want to take a break from my routine and generously offered me the space. Since he’s the expert, I took his advice.”

  He arched an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You didn’t report the attack.” Baird shifted his attention to Parker. “Neither did you, Mr. Lawton, when we spoke on Friday.”

  “There was no evidence linking her attack and Theo’s murder,” Parker replied flatly. “I was just in the right place at the right time.”

  “Uh-huh. And now?”

  “It would seem the two events may be connected after all,” he admitted. “There was a second man serving as a lookout when Miss Wallace was attacked at the hotel. I believe he was also observing the scene at the explosion.”

  “I tend to draw the way other people journal,” Becca volunteered, as Parker’s jaw tensed. “I have sketches of the man with the scar and a profile of the other man.”

  They gave Baird a description of both men and Parker sent him an email with the picture of her sketches as well.

  Parker leaned closer, draping his arm across the back of her chair, his fingers stroking her shoulder in a soothing motion. The detective narrowed his gaze at the protective gesture. “Have you made any progress on Theo’s case?” Parker asked.

  “No. We’ll canvass the area again with this picture,” Baird promised. “Has the brother called you?”

  Parker shook his head.

  “We expect to release the body later today. I got the feeling he wanted to discuss final arrangements with you.”

  “I’ll keep my phone on,” he promised.

  “The Northern Police Station has been trying to reach you, Miss Wallace.”

  “My phone was in the SUV,” she said, well aware that didn’t account for the hours before the explosion. “I haven’t had time to replace it. What was the trouble?”

  The detective made a note and continued. “A bystander reported a burglary in progress at your address last night. Someone broke your window and searched your apartment.”

  She trembled at the idea, imagining what might have happened if she hadn’t been in Parker’s safe room. “Did they take anything?”

  “Best we can tell, the obvious targets of electronics and personal valuables were ignored, but only you will know for sure. It’s possible the bystander’s call interrupted the burglar’s plan. You’ll need to schedule a walk-through with the officer on that case.”

  “Of course,” she replied with a tight smile. “It will be my next call.” She didn’t want to go anywhere near her apartment without Parker. The police were more than capable in most circumstances, though she didn’t know how they’d hold up if the assassination team from Iran showed.

  “Is there any way to speak with the bystander who called it in? I’m sure Becca would like to thank him.”

  She smiled on cue, struggled to hold the expression as the detective scrubbed at his jaw. The man was stalling, debating what to share with them.

  “We don’t know for sure who called it in,” Baird said, toying with the pen in his hands. His gaze shifted from her face to Parker’s. “There’s another matter I’m not sure is related. The unit that responded to the burglary call stumbled across a body a block from the scene during their search. No ID on him.”

  Parker’s arm stiffened behind her shoulders. “You think the dead body is related to the burglary simply because of proximity?”

  “We have to keep that in mind as we investigate.”

  Becca waited, her heart thudding against her rib cage.

  “And?” Parker prompted.

  “It caught my attention that the man they found in Russian Hill last night was killed in the same manner as Theo Manning. Two small-caliber bullets in the back of his head.”

  Becca pressed her fingers to her lips.

  “Description?” Parker asked through clenched teeth.

  Baird held up a picture of the man’s face to the camera.

  Parker swore under his breath. “That’s Tony. He was in the area because I asked him to keep an eye on her apartment after the attack. I’ll have my office send over his information.”

  Baird added more notes, then lifted his head and glared at them. “Come clean with me, Lawton. You know something. How are these crimes connected?”

  Becca turned as Parker did and they stared at each other a moment. Silently, she asked the obvious question with a slight tilt of her head. He gave her a reluctant nod. “Detective Baird, I may know a possible common denominator.”

  Surprise flowed over Baird’s career-worn face and he leaned back a bit in his chair. “I’m all ears.”

  “Parker told me yesterday when and where Theo Manning died,” she began. While she explained the email from the anonymous source and how she and Bill had proceeded, Parker grew more and more edgy. She made every effort to make it clear she didn’t credit the claims against Parker or the other men, but he didn’t relax. Not that she blamed him after the losses he’d suffered personally and professionally over recent days.

  She didn’t bring up the blackmail note—that was his decision. She also neatly avoided any mention of his visits to her apartment before and after the gala. Still, Parker was wound so tight she wondered when he’d snap.

  “I’ll need to see that email, Miss Wallace.”

  “Of course. We’ll send it over right away.”

  When the call ended, Parker moved with silent, slow deliberation as he closed the camera and conference call applications. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced in his pale face. He’d lost another friend, and she ached for him.

  “We’ll send the email and Tony’s details from another computer,” he said. Taking no chances, he shut down the computer.

  “Already done,” Sam replied. “Seemed more expedient.”<
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  Parker gave him a short nod and stalked out of the lab.

  “Thanks for all your help.” Becca’s relief that the conversation with the police was over was short-lived. She didn’t know how to reach Parker, or if she should try. “I guess I’ll go upstairs.”

  “Would you like to stay with us?” Sam asked. “Or I can open up another apartment. Just because you showed up together doesn’t mean you have to stay there.”

  “Did you furnish all of them?”

  “Four,” he said sheepishly. “A friend needed the design practice.”

  “Lucy called him a stand-up guy,” Becca said absently.

  “He is,” Sam agreed.

  “That wasn’t my first impression, in person,” she admitted.

  “And your second impression?”

  “Different.” Becca rubbed her arms, remembering those moments with Parker in the dark, as a delighted shiver skated over her skin. She’d been angry as his captive, but only her doubts about his identity had given her a reason to be afraid. “I’ll go talk with him, if he’ll let me.”

  “Make him listen,” Sam suggested quietly as she reached the door.

  Regardless of Parker’s interpretation of the circumstances, he needed her. She couldn’t leave him to brood about it too long, or they’d be back to square one with him pushing her away. The man had generously shared his resources and friends and even called in favors to protect her.

  It was time he accepted what an asset she could be in the task of protecting him and the men on that list.

  Chapter Ten

  Becca walked into the apartment and found him in the kitchen slamming down a beer. Someone had stocked the refrigerator and brought in a basket of snacks while they were hashing things out with the detective. Parker wanted his own place, his own space. He just didn’t trust himself to get there quite yet. He was too angry. He’d rather head down to his cabin in Big Sur. No one would pester him there.

  Except a nasty, scar-faced assassin.

  That was what he wanted, what they all needed. He should lead the bastard away, finish it one-on-one where he couldn’t murder any more innocent people.