Tough As Nails

by Jackie Manning

  “Hi, love,” he said to her with a killer smile.

  She stopped, turning back toward him. “Would you like a table?” she asked, her green eyes taking him in with one practiced glance. Her inviting smile told him she approved of what she saw.

  He flicked a crisp twenty-dollar bill at her. “Another time, sweetheart. What I’d like now is to borrow a glass.”

  Her heavily mascara-lashed eyes widened with surprise. “A glass?”

  He grinned as he stood from the stool. Carefully he picked up the stemmed wine goblet David Malden had been drinking from and slipped it into the plastic bag he’d pulled from his suit jacket breast pocket. Then he pressed the bill into her palm.

  “I’d appreciate you not saying anything about this, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear. “Say, I didn’t get your name.”

  “Stephanie.” She gave him another head-to-toe, blatant look.

  “What’s it worth to you?”

  Liam smiled. He had a weakness for redheads, especially green-eyed redheads with freckles. He wondered if she was freckled all over. “When do you get off work?”

  “Midnight.” The smile she gave him was filled with expectation.

  “Write your number on the back of this,” he drawled, picking up a book of matches from the bar top. “I’ll call you later and we can talk about it.”

  She grinned, jerking the matches from his fingers. She jotted a number on the inside cover, then handed it back to him. “Mister, you’ve got the most original come-on line I’ve ever heard, and baby, I’ve heard ’em all.”

  He smiled as he picked up the matchbook, then gave her an open kiss on the mouth. Before she’d opened her eyes again, Liam had disappeared into the crowd.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Later that night, Brianna hung up the phone after talking to her aunt Nora and looked out the living-room window of the Crib. Across the river, Manhattan’s colored lights glittered against the black-velvet sky. “There’s no reason to worry about the stalker. Mike had everything under control,” she’d told Nora only a few minutes ago. And that was probably true—for her own well-being. But what about Simone? Out there in the city, Liam was tailing Simone and Malden, the man who had cold-bloodedly pushed Kristi down the stairs. How could she not worry, with her secretary on a date with a man capable of anything?

  She turned away from the window. Mike was right. There was nothing she could do. Besides, Mike had hired one of the best undercover freelancers to act as Simone’s bodyguard.

  Nervously, she bit her lip. She worried about Mike, too. He would do anything to protect her, and if his thoughts were preoccupied with her, his concentration might be impaired. Since seeing the stalker’s face, Mike was more intense, more focused. Gone was the twinkle in his eyes and the quick, easy grin. If something were to happen to him, how could she live with herself?

  Dear God, she’d go mad if she kept this up. Maybe if she spoke to Liam about Mike, he might know what to do. It was worth a try.

  She crossed the room to the hall, on her way to check on Mike. He must be finished with the seemingly endless phone calls he’d made since they’d returned to the Crib over three hours ago.

  As she passed the wall of security monitors, her gaze flew to one of the six screens that scanned various positions outside the building perimeter. The last screen fixed at the corner of the roof facing the street corner revealed a man walking a white Pekingese on a leash. His face and hair were hidden beneath a baseball cap. Her heart tripped. What if he was David Malden, alias Leonard Braewood, alias who the hell knows?

  The man paused, glanced covertly over his shoulder and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. She held her breath. Slowly, he flitted one to his mouth, then flashed a lighter from his pocket. A small glow sparked the end, a puff of smoke haloed over his head, while the dog yanked at its lead.

  The rush of adrenaline made her hands shake as she watched the monitor, fear coiling inside her stomach.

  Suddenly a shadow crossed the wall in front of her. Startled, she jumped.

  “Hey, take it easy,” Mike said, reaching around her waist to steady her. “Don’t worry. That’s Joe, a regular in the neighborhood. He’s trying to stop smoking but he sometimes sneaks a puff when he walks the dog.” He pointed to the monitor just as Joe stomped out his cigarette and continued down the street.

  She felt foolish. “Guess I’m a bit tense.”

  “It’s understandable.” He was standing so close that she could feel his body heat. “You need to relax,” he said. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “I didn’t think you drank.”

  “I don’t but my guests do. My kitchen may be bare, but you’ll be very impressed with my wine cellar.”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, but I thought I’d soak in a warm bubble bath.”

  “Hmm. Want me to wash your back?” His eyes danced. “Like I used to?”

  “Hmm,” she mimicked. “As I remember, that’s not quite what you did,” she said with a quick smile.

  He brushed her hair away from her ear and kissed her earlobe. “Hmm, seems I don’t ever remember you complaining.” His tongue lingered in that special place he knew could drive her wild.

  Her eyes closed, then opened. What was she thinking? She swung away, but his hand remained at her waist. “I don’t think that’s wise, Mike.” Her voice was almost wavering.

  “Then don’t think.” He pulled her close again, his mouth in her hair. He cupped her breast, and she knew she wanted more. So much more. His thumb flicked over her nipple. Pure pleasure ricocheted throughout her body.

  She could feel her willpower slipping and she managed to push him away, needing to take control. “Stop it, Mike.” Her voice was breathy. “I don’t want to go back down that road again.”

  He caressed her face and studied her. When their eyes met, the laughter was gone from his eyes. “We’re not going back, honey,” he said, his voice soft. “We’re forging ahead, making new memories.”

  “That path leads to a dead end, remember?” She was surprised by how angry she felt.

  He released her, frowning. “Is this about the video camera? Are you still mad?”

  “Shouldn’t I be?” She fought to control her temper.

  He studied her face, her eyes. “Okay, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before the video camera was installed in your office.” He took a deep breath, his eyes shuttered. “You’re right. I didn’t trust you enough, and I’m sorry. I really am, Brianna.”

  She turned away, determined to be cool. “It’s over and done,” she said. “And forgotten.”

  “Like hell it is. You’ll remember that incident every time I stumble, and you’ll bring it up every time to distance yourself from me.”

  She hugged herself, refusing to look at him. “Mike, let’s not have this discussion.”

  “Discussion, hell. We’re having a fight!”

  She huffed derisively. “You’re having the fight. I’m not.”

  “Oh yes you are. And you fight dirty.”

  She spun around at him, hurt and anger flaring inside her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that on the outside you fool most anyone with that ice-princess demeanor. But you can’t fool me. I’ve had you, remember? You’re a passionate, erotic woman, Brianna Kent. Down deep you’re a volcano.”

  For one long moment their gazes locked. Instead of the anger that she expected, his blue eyes were dark with a yearning so great it took her breath away. Dropping her lashes to hide her reaction, she quickly turned away.

  “Don’t run from me, Bria. Don’t be afraid of those feelings.” He closed the distance between them with one quick move, and before she knew it, she was in his arms.

  SHE LAY in the crook of his arm, her fingers idly toying with the black curls on his chest. She felt at a loss for what to do. In his arms like this, it was so easy to fool herself into thinking that maybe…yes, it could work between them. But down deep, in what Mike h
ad called a volcano, was also a core of reason, of logic, a practicality that wouldn’t go away. Damn, she almost envied those Pollyannas who could stumble into bed with their lovers, so confident that things would work out.

  Mike had hit a chord when he’d accused her of distancing herself from her feelings for him. Her excuse, that from their history they were still wrong for each other, simply wasn’t true. He’d changed, and so had she. But dammit, she was so afraid to drop that last shred of defense. Terrified to even hope they could be happy together for the long haul. Tears welled in her eyes and she was glad for the darkness in case he suddenly awoke. She laid her head on the bristly mat of his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Maybe they would have no future, but Mike would always have her heart.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Mike looked up from his reading to see Liam lumber into the kitchen of the Crib.

  “Tofu cream cheese for Brianna,” Liam said as he removed the first of three small deli containers from the bag in the crook of his arm. “Peanut butter for Mike and lox cream-cheese spread for yours truly.”

  Mike ignored him as he leaned a hip against the kitchen counter and studied the last page of the report Liam had brought him before heading out to pick up breakfast.

  The file contained the CIA report of the man whose fingerprints Liam had lifted from David Malden’s wineglass the night before. With his foot, Mike dragged a chair out from under the table, his gaze never leaving the page.

  “You said this was good news?” Mike remarked a moment later, taking a seat and crossing his legs. He looked up and frowned as he watched his friend unbox a half-dozen assorted bagels, then remove three disposable coffee containers from a pulp-board tray.

  “We’ve finally got his real name,” Liam said. “We’ve got his description and complete history.” The tall Irishman eyed Mike narrowly as he set the cups atop the paper place mats and flatware he’d brought from the breakfast deli around the corner. “What’s the matter, Mike?” Liam asked. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

  “Liam, you’ve done fabulous work, as always,” Mike said, putting down the report. “But have you read this guy’s background?”

  “Not completely. I just got the call that the computer file was ready to download as I was coming in this morning.” He smiled. “An unexpected date.” His smile widened. “Anyway, when I saw what the file was, I brought it right over. I eyeballed it while it was printing, to be sure the file was complete.” He reached for a bagel. “A blue-ribbon winner, if I say so myself.”

  Just then Brianna stepped into the kitchen wearing a white Turkish bathrobe, looking as if she’d come straight from the shower. Her hair was damp and a towel draped loosely around her neck. “I thought I heard…” She glanced at the kitchen table, then at Liam.

  “Hi.” She smiled warmly, peeked at the bag of bagels, then back at him. “You’re gorgeous and you bring food, too?” she teased. “A man after my own heart.”

  Liam chuckled. “I know how hard you’re both working,” he said, his grin a mile wide. “I thought you should eat to keep up your strength.”

  Brianna blushed, remembering how Liam, earlier when he’d first arrived, had interrupted her and Mike in the shower.

  “Thanks a lot, pal,” Mike grumbled.

  “Only doing my part,” Liam said, then pointed to the cluttered assortment of paper bags, cardboard cartons and food containers that littered the table. “Breakfast is ready and it’s on me, mates, ’cause we’ve got plenty to celebrate.” He turned to Mike and waved dramatically. “Go ahead, tell her.” Liam sat down and started to smear lox spread on a whole-wheat bagel.

  Brianna came behind Mike’s chair and peered over his shoulder. “Tell me what?”

  Mike scanned the report. “The stalker’s real name is Reginald Fox. Forty-eight years old. Ex-military. Awarded for distinguished service. Ex-CIA. A rogue.”

  “A rogue never retires,” Liam muttered.

  “Listen to this,” Mike continued. “Later he joined the police force. Retired. NYPD.”

  Liam whistled. “That means he still has connections.”

  “There’s more. Fox is employed at Spender Electronics and Surveillance Equipment.”

  Liam’s gaze met Mike’s. “I’ve heard of them. So that’s where he’s getting his stuff—”

  “Hold it right there,” Brianna said. “Why would someone like this be interested in me?”

  “The answer is in this report,” Mike said, slapping the pages against the tabletop. “We just have to find it.”

  “What about his relationships?” she asked. “Is he married? Kids?”

  Mike scanned the last page and pulled it out for her. “He’s divorced. A kid who lives with his ex.” He handed her several sheets from the report. “See if you recognize any names or any connections. His wife, kids, relatives, anything.”

  She took the pages from him as she took another sip of coffee.

  Liam broke another bagel in two. “We’ve handled worse cases, Mike. This guy doesn’t sound so tough.”

  “Never underestimate the enemy,” Mike said. “I’d like to dig deeper on a few things. Check his record with NYPD. His military records.”

  Brianna took a bite from a cinnamon-raisin bagel. “You didn’t read down far enough, Mike,” she said, wiping a crumb from her lip. “His son doesn’t live with the wife. He died in prison.” She lifted her head and met Mike’s gaze. “I wonder…?”

  “Does the name mean anything to you?” Mike asked.

  “No, it doesn’t give the son’s full name. He might have retained his mother’s name.” She gazed back over the report. “I’ll check my files. There must be a connection.”

  Mike yanked the lid from one of the coffee containers and took a swallow. His forehead creased as he looked at Liam. “Run this by Detective Sanchez. See if we have enough for a warrant.” Mike was aware that Brianna was studying him.

  “What’s worrying you about this case, Mike?” she finally asked him.

  “I’m not worried, sweetheart, just cautious.” Mike knew she didn’t believe him. He rose from the table, collecting the sheets from the file report. “I think I’ll run some ideas I’ve got through the computer.” He bent over and kissed her, his mouth lingering on hers, then he turned and headed for the stairway.

  When the echo of his footsteps faded, she turned to Liam. “I think Mike is terribly worried. Ever since we’ve seen the videotape of the stalker, he hasn’t been himself. That quirk of a grin is gone, and his eyes have lost their twinkle. And I’m afraid it’s because of me.”

  Liam uncapped a small see-through cup of orange juice. “That’s to be expected, isn’t it? He’s serious about catching this guy.”

  “Not if it might get him killed.” She surprised herself at the emotional tone in her voice.

  Liam snorted. “I think Mike’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

  “You know what I mean. I’m not just another client to protect. I’m…” She paused when she saw the empathy and understanding fill Liam’s eyes.

  “Aye, I know what you are to him. He’s a lucky man.”

  “And because of that, I’m jeopardizing his safety. I’m afraid he’ll try too hard, take risks that might…”

  “Now, Brianna.” His tone was gentle. “When I got here this morning, Mike told me about the plan you’ve cooked up. I think it’s fine. I didn’t say anything to him, but I think he’s spreading himself a bit thin. He wants to spearhead the Catskill operation, and he wants to come back here and stay with you until you’re airlifted to a safe place.” He glanced at her bagel. “If you don’t want that, I’ll eat it.”

  She shoved it toward him. “You’re saying that Mike is doing too much?”

  Liam scraped out the cheese container with his knife as he talked. “I’m saying that back when we were in Special Forces, we had what was called the seventy-two-hour lock-down. Time can vary, but what it meant was that before a man went on an op, he was quarantined from his family, hi
s loved ones. He was geared to the task, insulating himself from everything personal in his life except the op plan.” When he looked at her his expression was serious. “That’s what Mike has to do. I think he should spearhead the Catskill operation and stay there until we catch this bastard. We can have Bailey stay here with you and I’ll tailgate the operation from here.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. Can you persuade Mike?”

  He huffed with laughter. “Not on your life. But you can.”

  She wasn’t quite sure, but she kept it to herself. She smiled at him as she leaped to her feet. “Maybe I should go and test your theory.”

  “Good girl! Oh, you better take a bagel with you,” Liam said, wielding a cream cheese-tipped knife at her. “Or I can’t guarantee there’ll be any left when you come back.”

  “Thanks. For everything,” she said as she wrapped two bagels in a paper napkin and headed toward the stairs.

  The Crib’s war room was exactly what she’d expected. Computer monitors, maps, overheads and as many gadgets as she’d expect to find at the CIA.

  Her heart leaped when she saw Mike. His long denim-clad legs sprawled in front of the computer, his eyes concentrating on the monitor. His hair was tousled, his black T-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders. When he saw her, his mouth quirked.

  “Hope you’re coming down here to seduce me,” he drawled.

  Her mouth twitched. “First you’d better eat.” She stuffed a bagel into his mouth. “To keep up your strength.”

  He laughed, half choking, then shook his head. “That Liam!”

  She rolled a desk chair up to the console. His tanned hands splayed across the keyboard as he punched up another screen. “Come see what I’ve found.”

  She peered at the large monitor. “What is it?”

  “It’s the police record of the stalker’s son. The kid took his mother’s name, just like you thought. Reginald Dysart.”