Bracing herself, she pulled her hand away and grabbed a tissue from her handbag. After blotting her mascara, she gave him a shaky smile. “I’m okay now.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid it’s worse than you think.”
She glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”
“The device I found does more than just listen to your phone calls.” His jaw clenched.
She could see his quiet anger toward whoever was behind this. Was he always this emotionally involved with his cases, or was she an exception?
“What do you mean by more than a listening device?”
“I won’t know what the range of the transmitter is until I check it out in the lab.” Mike whispered. “I know it picks up conversations while the phone is on the hook.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “You mean the stalker has heard everything my clients have said while in session?”
He nodded. “Overheard and possibly recorded.”
“But how?”
“It’s a little more complicated than in the movies where someone sits in a van listening to tapes through a headset. Some P.I.s might still do that, but today’s technology that allows visual enhancement of the rings of Jupiter can easily enhance a whisper on the street to symphony-hall clarity.”
She was suddenly speechless.
“TALON-6 uses the cutting edge in surveillance equipment.” His mouth firmed. “We’ll find out who’s doing this and put him away.”
“But…he’s already learned information that could be devastating.” Her thoughts went immediately to Billie Ray Bennett. Could he possibly have the expertise to do something like this? From what she could remember, he was a high-school dropout. But if he wasn’t behind the photographs, then who?
“Mike, are you absolutely sure that what’s said in my office can be heard even though the phone is on the hook?”
“Yes, it’s done every day. Any room sound can be heard and recorded up to as much as fifteen hundred feet, and more on some units. That means through two or more closed doors.”
She shook her head. “I can hardly believe it.”
“It’s easy. The device is activated by sounds. All the stalker has to do to hear or record what’s being said is to start an external stimulus that triggers the bug. It can be done simply by dialing your number. You think it’s a wrong number, but it’s enough to trigger the device.”
“But why me? Who’s doing this and what do they want?”
Mike clenched his jaw, determination darkening his blue eyes. “I promise you, Bria. I’m going to find out.”
Nervously, she glanced out the taxi window at the pedestrians crowding the sidewalk. Hundreds, thousands, millions of people in New York City. The stalker could be any one of them.
“I’m not sure I feel better knowing all these things,” she said finally.
“I’m not trying to scare you, but it’s for your own protection. You’ve got to know what and who we’re dealing with.”
“Of course. You’re right,” she said, realizing that she needed to protect her clients. “I need to know.”
HE TAPPED HIS FINGERS along the computer pad, trying to control his fury.
Did they really think he wouldn’t have known that they had found the bug? Stupid, arrogant bitch. She hires a wiretap man from TALON-6 and thinks he’ll keep her safe. Well, she’d learn her lesson, and so would he.
He clicked off the monitor, then walked to the darkroom. The next photo will frighten the hell out of her. He could hardly wait.
A pity that he couldn’t have seen the bitch’s face when they found the bugging device inside the phone. It didn’t matter. Soon he’d get what he wanted.
Very soon it will be over. And he knew exactly what it would take to bring her out into the open.
He laughed. Damn, she’d go willingly. She always did. Run right after one of her flock. He grinned, thinking of the way her eyes would bulge in shock, her mouth twist in terror while she begged him for her life.
Landis was an extra bonus, an added thrill. Once the incriminating evidence was planted, Landis would be the first person the police would think murdered her.
Thank you, bitch. He laughed. Yeah, now that he had a chance to think about it, he was ecstatic at the lucky turn of events.
He grabbed the telephone and punched in the numbers that were deeply burned into his memory.
Chapter Four
On the outside, Clancy’s Pub, just off Second Avenue, looked like any other neighborhood bar. But Brianna sensed, soon after she and Mike entered the warmly lit, wood-paneled interior, that the pub was more than an accidental choice for a discreet place to talk. No one else was in the place. She sensed that this bar was yet another mysterious part of Mike’s world. The idea was unsettling yet intriguing.
As soon as he ushered her into one of the half-moon leather booths, she slipped her oversize shoulder bag onto the seat between them. If he’d noticed the distancing tack, he gave no sign as he picked up the bag, slid in beside her, and leaned it and his attaché case against the back of the booth.
She looked up at the vaulted ceiling where brass containers of lush Boston ferns hung from exposed rafters. Soft indirect light spilled here and there, carefully planned to cast an intimate glow for patrons. Or for lovers.
She shuddered at that thought. They weren’t a hand-holding couple on a date, in spite of the soft lighting and romantic ambience.
Looking around, she couldn’t help wondering where the customers were. She eyed the bartender again. Mid-forties, with a touch of gray at the temples, he was a man whose deep tan contrasted sharply with a person who remained inside all day. Maybe he worked out in a health club, she decided, noticing his well-muscled forearms below his rolled-up sleeves. He had briefly looked up in response when they’d entered, yet somehow she sensed he and Mike knew each other.
For a moment, sheltered in this cozy booth, insulated from the blaring horns and hammering street noises outside, she felt protected, like a butterfly inside its cocoon. Or was it the man beside her who made her feel safe?
But she wasn’t safe. The momentary absence of fear was her brain’s natural reaction to overcoming stress. How often had she seen this in her patients? Mind games to fight off the panic gnawing within her; that is, if she’d admit to feeling afraid. But she wouldn’t give in to her feelings. Or to Mike.
She turned to look at him. He was studying her. He was sitting so close. She could see the light and dark shards of blue in those extraordinary eyes. Her throat felt powder-dry, parched from nerves. She forced herself to meet his assessing gaze. “Interesting place,” she said finally. “A private club?”
His grin hinted of dimples. “Very perceptive of you, Doctor.”
It was the first time he’d called her doctor. Had he chosen that word for its impersonal feel? Was he feeling as unsettled by her presence as she was by his?
Of course he wasn’t. And her nervousness had nothing to do with her ex-husband sitting so close to her. She forced a smile. “And you’re a member of this…private club?”
He leaned back and stretched his long legs. “Clancy’s is owned by a few ex-Special Forcers. Yes, I’m a partner. It’s a safe place to come when we’re in town.”
So, her first hunch was correct. That minor victory made her feel more at ease. “This place has a calming ambience,” she said, her gaze deliberately averted from him. God, she was making small talk as though he were a stranger standing beside her in line at the food mart.
She forced her brain to work. “Mike, what are you planning to do next?”
“Order something to help you relax.” He turned around and raised his hand at the bartender. “Ben, the usual for me and—” He turned to her, waiting for her order.
“Chablis. Domestic,” she said.
Ben nodded, unfolded himself from the stool and slipped behind the bar.
Mike leaned forward. “First, we’ll go to your apartment so you can pack a few things for the next couple
of days. While you’re gone, I’ll have a sweep done—”
“A sweep?”
“An electronic sweep. Check out any bugs or video cameras. That sort of thing.”
A shudder crept up her spine. “Video cameras? How could someone install video…?” The words died in her throat. This morning she would never have believed someone could sneak into her office and plant a listening device, either.
“Just a precaution,” he said gently. “Don’t worry. We’ll catch whoever’s behind this.” As though he noticed her tension, he added, “I’ll see that you’re safe, Brianna.”
The bartender placed a frosted glass of white wine in front of her and a bottle of nonalcoholic ale by Mike.
“Thanks, Ben.”
“You’re welcome, Mike,” Ben mumbled and hurried back to his stool at the end of the bar. The front door opened and two police officers came inside. Mike nodded to them when they waved and took seats near the bartender.
Mike’s gaze met hers again. “Off-duty cops like to hang out here, too. The security is top-notch.”
“Security?” She began to see the connection. “Is Ben really a bartender or does he…wear other hats?”
“He’s what we call a freelancer.” Mike used a fingernail to whisk a stray hair from her cheek. “Ben’s ex-Special Forces, too, and a good buddy of one of my former teammates.” He took a swig of his drink, swallowed, then put the bottle down on the marble-top table. “Freelancers hire on for assorted jobs. Law enforcement, police units, and TALON-6 hires their services when a particular situation comes up.” He studied the ale left in the bottle.
“So Clancy’s Bar is an employment office, of sorts.”
He took another swig from the bottle. “Of sorts.”
She waited for him to tell her more. When he didn’t, she bit back the questions forming in her mind. Damn, she didn’t want to give the impression that she was curious about him or the life he led. But as the silence lengthened between them, it was obvious he wasn’t going to offer any more information.
It was none of her business, anyway. She took a sip of wine. Curiosity was a natural response to have toward an ex-husband, a man she hadn’t seen in over seven years, who was now protecting her, she reminded herself. For a brief moment she had forgotten about the listening device planted in her office, forgotten about the photographs, the person or persons stalking her. She was relieved for that respite, however brief.
She was curious, but not interested in Mike. And what woman wouldn’t be? He was fascinating, he lived an intriguing life. But he’d only be in her life long enough to catch whoever was stalking her, she reminded herself.
She closed her eyes and leaned her throbbing head against the leather-covered booth. “Oh, Michael. How am I going to tell my clients that their confidential information has all been compromised. It takes months to build trust between doctor and patient. With some clients, they’ll never trust me again. Or any other therapist, for that matter.”
“You’ve been through a lot, Brianna.” Mike’s voice was warm and gentle. “Try not to think about it right now.”
“Remember that young woman who came in while you were in the waiting room?”
“Hmm. The one dressed up for Halloween?”
Brianna opened one eye and shot him a chastising look. “I’m terribly worried about her, Michael. I’m not sure if I helped her today. She just might…”
His blue eyes filled with sympathy. “Is she suicidal?”
Brianna nodded. She propped her elbows on the table. How she wished she could tell Mike that the teenager had admitted that she was pregnant and the father of her unborn baby—her slimeball boyfriend—was back in town. Not only had he introduced Kristi to drugs when she was thirteen, but he had the morals of an alley cat. Kristi thought he would marry her when he found out about the baby. When he had proved unfaithful before, less than three months ago, she had slashed her wrists. Who knew what the boyfriend would do when he found out about the baby?
“If you want to talk…”
“Thanks” was all she trusted herself to say. She’d forgotten what an easy listener he was. Whenever she’d had a problem, whether it was with her father, her indecision about a career or what kind of car to buy, Mike would patiently listen until she was all talked out. How she’d missed that.
She caught herself. Surprised to find her hand wrapped in his, she drew back. She couldn’t tell Mike that Kristi was going to tell her boyfriend about the baby. She bit her lip. “I know it’s not professional to get involved with one’s clients, but there’s something about this young woman. I really think I could help her.”
“She’s lucky to have you in her life.” His voice warmed again, flowed over her. Brianna glanced into Mike’s caring expression. For a moment, she felt genuinely relieved that he had accepted her case. Nora had been right. Mike believed he could help her and his confidence was catching. Yes, she was beginning to believe he could keep her safe. And she wouldn’t fight the secure feeling he gave her. But after all, this was his job.
More than likely, his charm was part of that service, too. The bond that was forming between them was merely the security in knowing she was in expert hands. Nothing more.
She never spoke of her clients to anyone outside the office, and she felt a bit embarrassed. Glancing at her watch to break the tension, she was surprised to see how late it was. “I should be going—”
“I’ve got a call to make. This will only take a minute.” Mike reached for the black leather case beside him and clicked open the lid. “I’m going to check on one of my partners, Liam O’Shea. He’ll be running the sweep on your apartment.”
Surprised, she looked up. “You’re not going to do it?”
“Liam is the team expert on eavesdropping detection.” Mike reached for her hand. “Don’t worry. He’ll be discreet.”
His hand cupped over hers felt warm, protective and strong. A sudden memory of how those hands had felt touching her skin, how those fingers felt teasing her, seducing her, brought with it a stab of incredible yearning.
She pulled her hand away and rubbed the stem of her wineglass. When their eyes met, she thought she saw a flash of remembrance in his face. But she must be imagining it, for in the next moment he removed a boxlike phone from its case and punched in a series of numbers. She sipped her wine again and forced herself to relax.
“Hello, Bailey?” Mike said. “Page Liam this time and have him call me on the bubble machine in about an hour. I’ll be at the Crib.”
His eyes leveled on her as he hung up the receiver and tucked the phone back inside the case.
Surprised, she asked, “Bubble machine at the Crib?”
He flashed a smile. “The bubble machine is our satellite phone. And the Crib is the name of our safe house in Brooklyn. TALON-6 owns it.”
“Why can’t I stay in my apartment?”
“Until Liam runs a thorough check on your home, car and office, I want you safe with me.”
She clutched at his arm. “I can’t, Michael. I’ll stay at a hotel.”
“Very well, but you won’t have the same security. We’ll get adjoining rooms.”
She glared at him. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m extremely appreciative for what you’re doing, but I’m perfectly capable of staying by myself.”
His features settled into an unemotional mask. “When I said you’d stay with me, I didn’t mean that literally. The Crib is a secure building where our clients, those in need of top-security protection, stay. Celebrities, politicians, people in the witness-protection program, that sort of thing. You’ll be safe, comfortable, and you can relax and catch up on some needed sleep.”
“This is not where you live, right?”
He flashed a grin, a dimple deepening in his left cheek. “True, I do keep a small apartment there, but there’s plenty of room for both of us. You’ll have your own suite and you won’t know I’m there, if that’s what you want.”
She arched an eyebrow as her
gaze met his. “I’ll consider going on one condition. If I don’t like it, I leave for a hotel. Okay?”
“Okay.” He gave her another devastating grin that melted her insides. “You’re the boss in this business relationship,” he added.
“I’m the boss,” she repeated. But when she looked deeply into those familiar blue eyes, she felt as if she was sitting in the front seat of an out-of-control roller coaster, holding on for the ride of her life.
ON THE WAY to the Crib, they stopped at Brianna’s apartment only long enough for her to pack an overnight bag, pick up the mail and replace the recording tape from her answering machine. Mike had suggested she not listen to her messages until she was safely ensconced in her new quarters at the Crib.
It was after four o’clock by the time their cab pulled up in front of an elegant Greek Revival building that blended right in with the picturesque Brooklyn neighborhood. The street looked deserted. From the back seat of the taxi, she craned her neck to see the three-story, brick and brownstone dwelling. A wrought-iron set of urns housed red geraniums and white petunias set on stone pedestals. “This is the Crib?” she asked, unable to hide the surprise from her voice.
“Uh-huh.” Mike peeled several bills from his wallet, then handed the cash to the driver. After the cab drove away, she glanced up at Mike.
“I was expecting something more…I don’t know, snarling pit bulls chained at the door, bars over the windows, concertina wire on the roof.” She bit back a laugh.
He grinned. Clutching his briefcase in one hand, he grabbed her suitcase with the other. “Looks can be deceiving.”
Her high heels clicked in step beside him as they strode over the cracked sidewalk toward the white door. Inside, an old-fashioned wrought-iron and brass elevator loomed a few feet from the entrance. With a trust she didn’t feel, she followed Mike into the polished cage.
The metal gates clanged shut, and the car, instead of the clattering, bone-jarring climb that she’d expected, sped smoothly to the top floor.
Mike took her arm as they stepped out of the elevator into a room the size of Yankee Stadium. Bookcases stretched to the ceiling along one wall. Opposite, bare windows overlooked the Manhattan skyline and the rosy sunset beyond.
Tough As Nails Page 5
