“Please, Dianna,” the girl begged, excitement glimmering in her eyes.
“Well…” Dianna turned back toward the man and shrugged. “All right.”
She put out her hand, mentally comparing it with Julie’s much smaller one. Her nails were rounded, and she used a rose-tinted polish.
The man fanned out the cards. “Go ahead,” he said as she hesitated. “Pick one.”
Dianna closed her thumb and forefinger on one from the middle of the deck. She pulled it out.
“Now look at it,” the man said.
She did, then blinked, unable to believe her eyes. It was a three of clubs. But it wasn’t the suit or the number that startled her.
Printed along the card’s side was, “Beware.”
LT. TRAVIS BRONSON, of the special Undercover Response Unit, “L Platoon,” of the Metro Division, Los Angeles Police Department, did not let himself smile at the reaction of the beautiful, slender, but unapproachable woman he knew was Dianna Englander, widow of U.S. Representative Bradley Englander.
He had intended to startle her. It was the best way to get her attention.
“Now, please place the card back into the deck,” he told her. Her slim, elegant hand trembled as she obeyed. But she lifted her pale blue eyes to his and glared.
Brave lady, he thought.
“Watch,” he said. Using simple sleight-of-hand, he formed the cards back into a solid deck, shuffled them, then easily extracted the one Ms. Englander had selected: the three of clubs.
He knew why she had reacted so strangely. It had a warning on the edge. But so did all the cards in the deck he had proffered.
“Is that the one you chose?” he asked.
She nodded. “Of course, but you—”
“Now, how about that tuna sandwich, my friend?” He knelt to the level of the child he knew to be Julie, daughter of Jeremy Alberts, a developer of the building near where they stood.
“Sure,” said the girl, wonder written all over her enormous-eyed gaze. He was careful to make sure she hadn’t seen what was on the card.
“I’ll teach you how to do that someday, if you’d like,” he said.
“Really?” Her tone told him that she considered what he had offered a gift of the highest magnitude.
To him, card tricks, juggling and other feats with his hands were routine.
Ms. Englander appeared less impressed.
“Manny, would you get our young customer her sandwich?” he asked the thin Hispanic man who actually owned the pushcart. Manny Fernandez nodded and motioned to the child.
That gave Travis his opportunity. He reached into his pocket, but she gave him no time to show his badge. Instead, she muttered, “I don’t know what he paid you, but leave me alone. And if you’re smart, you’ll stay away from him, too.” She turned her back and followed the child. “Let’s go, Julie,” she said after she paid Manny, then turned back toward the building.
He wasn’t going to argue with her…here. But this wasn’t the end of it, especially because Travis could guess what “he” she referred to. “See you soon,” he said as she and the child passed.
She spared him barely a look. “Don’t count on it,” she said through gritted teeth.
Oh, but you can count on it, Ms. Englander, he thought.
He watched the woman and child disappear through the doors.
A SHORT WHILE LATER, Dianna forced herself to sit still in Wally Sellers’ office in the A-S Development suite, on the sixth floor of the Englander Center.
Wally, chubby and unkempt but happy in his own cascades of loose skin, had decorated his domain in a manner in keeping with his unassuming nature: mismatched but comfortable stuff. He sat behind his cluttered desk.
“I’m glad we’re meeting,” Dianna said. “I have something to tell you both, but I’ll wait till Jeremy gets here. Do you know what he wants to see us about?”
Almost as soon as Julie and she had walked back into the offices, her other boss, Jeremy Alberts, had told her they had to get together on an important matter. Though their meeting would be short, as Wally and he had some potential subcontractors coming in, they would convene now in Wally’s office.
Dianna had tried to take Jeremy aside to tell him about her fright in the plaza but hadn’t wanted to alarm Julie. She had already alerted the security crew downstairs, told them to contact the police. If local authorities interrogated that cheeky pushcart peddler, they might get information about his relationship with Glen Farley that could lead to Farley’s arrest at long last. This time she would not allow her claims to be ignored. She was no longer the terrified, hysterical widow whom federal agents had blown off before.
Jeremy bustled into the office, hurrying across the Berber carpet between the cluttered desk and the sitting area. “Good,” he said, glancing between Wally and Dianna. “You’re both here.” He took a seat on an orange-and-blue upholstered chair that clashed with Dianna’s blue-and-gray one, and tugged on his pants legs to arrange them. “I’ve settled Julie in my office doing homework. He’ll be here in a minute.”
“Who?” Dianna asked, but before he could respond, she continued, “Look, before whoever it is gets here, I have something I need to tell you.” She related what had happened on the plaza.
“Oh, no!” Jeremy rose by his seat. “Are you okay?”
Dianna assured them both—falsely—that she was. The experience had shaken her more than she dared to admit.
Farley was getting more blatant. Now he was even hiring people to frighten her. She wouldn’t know whom she could trust.
See you soon. The man’s words echoed in her head. She didn’t want to think about it…but how could she avoid him, if he stood right outside their building? Beware…
“Damn!” Jeremy said. “Well, you’ll have an opportunity to tell the right person soon. The head of our new security company is coming. He demanded this meeting, said he has something important to talk about. He didn’t sound happy. Maybe he already knows what’s going on.”
“I certainly hope so,” Wally stated. He was seated again, and his scowl added creases to his wrinkly, round face.
“If he doesn’t know now, we’ll make sure he jumps right on it,” Jeremy asserted, as usual assuming leadership.
The partnership between her bosses reminded Dianna of pairs of comedians from the past, since Jeremy was so much thinner than his counterpart. His perfectionism in business dealings carried through to his appearance, for even when he removed a tailored suit jacket, as he had for this meeting, his shirts were clearly of fine quality cottons or silks.
But the similarity to comedic teams stopped with their appearances. Though both men were kind, they tended to be serious. Neither was prone to crack jokes.
They both seemed equally rattled now.
“Look,” she said placatingly. “It wasn’t—”
A sound from outside Wally’s office interrupted her. Beth Baines, the attractive African-American receptionist, poked her head in. “Mr. Flynn is here with another man,” she said.
“Send them in,” Jeremy said. “Although Cal didn’t mention anyone else.”
Two men entered—and Dianna rose, clenching one fist so tightly that her nails dug into her skin.
Thank heavens. The new security team had come through.
Only—was she supposed to take part in the interrogation? “No,” she whispered aloud. She wanted no part of it.
One of the men, bulky and wearing a blue uniform, Dianna recognized from the group manning the metal detectors and conducting random searches of visitors at the building’s entry. He was obviously a representative of the security company.
But the other—it was the good-looking juggler from the courtyard. The man who’d unnerved Dianna. He strode confidently inside, followed by Julie.
“Are you going to show us more card tricks?” the child asked, her eyes aglow once more. Dianna wanted to whisk her from the room. Julie didn’t belong near this unpleasantness.
“Not now,
” the man said with a smile. “I’ve some tricks to discuss with the adults.”
Tricks? Shakily, Dianna said to Julie, “Go back to your dad’s office, honey, and finish your homework. I’ll come help when we’re done here.” She gave the child a hug.
“Okay.” Julie’s look was baleful, but she obeyed.
The other man closed the office door behind her.
“What’s going on, Flynn?” Jeremy demanded. “Who is this?”
“He’s the man I told you about,” Dianna said coolly. “The one who tried to scare me outside on the plaza. He must have been hired by Farley.”
She glared at him, but he laughed aloud. Dianna felt her temper flare. Who was he?
She was able to ignore him for a moment as the uniformed man approached, holding out a hand. It felt like refrigerated meat as she shook it briefly, then let go.
“Ms. Englander.” He ducked his head as if in deference. His hair was light brown, and he had a bald spot at the crown. “I should have introduced myself before. I’m Cal Flynn, president of Flynn Security. I’ve stationed myself right alongside my staff because of the sensitive nature of the situation. Mr. Alberts called us in after you saw Glen Farley the first time.”
“That’s right,” Jeremy agreed. He sat again in the chair across from Dianna. “Flynn’s outfit is already making a lot of changes in the Center’s security.”
Cal Flynn’s smile broadened, revealing teeth so perfect Dianna wondered if he’d had them knocked out in the course of security assignments and replaced artificially.
Flynn continued, “Jeremy said you recently spotted the suspect a second time, and that you informed the police.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Dianna had mentioned it to her contact at the local police station, a community relations officer. It had been an offhand reference, but she’d told Jeremy nevertheless.
“That was fine, of course, but it would have been better if you let us handle the notification, since—”
“Since his feelings have been hurt,” said the juggler. He also approached Dianna, all but shouldering Flynn aside. His hand was out, too, but not to shake hers. He held a small leather case.
Dianna took the case, then glanced up at his face in surprise as she handed it back.
It was his ID. He was Lt. Travis Bronson of the Los Angeles Police Department.
“Who is he?” Wally’s voice nearly exploded from behind his desk.
Dianna told him as the police officer and security man took seats at opposite ends of the couch.
Flynn faced Lt. Bronson. “We certainly appreciate your interest and help, sir, but we have things under control.”
Dianna doubted that. Farley was a murderer. And they certainly hadn’t captured him.
In any event, she had a lot of questions. She asked the first. “Why were you outside juggling, of all things, Lieutenant?”
“Keeping an eye on everything,” he said. “We’ve other guys posted around here undercover, too.”
“Aren’t you a bit obvious, with all your—” she wanted to say “gyrations,” but that word brought back too clearly her own reaction to his sexy moves “—juggling?” she finished lamely. “And tricks.”
“Ah, but what better way to draw people near so I can observe them?” The archness of his grin suggested he knew just what she had been thinking.
“But why?” Jeremy asked almost peevishly. “We’ve hired the best security there is. What’s going on here?” He took a position beside Wally’s desk. His arms were folded, and a scowl puckered his long face.
Lt. Bronson rose. He looked directly at Dianna. “Because you’re in danger.”
“What?” Wally drew his bulk from behind the desk and crossed to stand protectively beside Dianna. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Even if she saw Farley, that doesn’t necessarily mean—”
“Oh, it means a lot,” the cop said.
Dianna felt both annoyed and gratified. Wally had said if she saw Farley. One of her own bosses, her friend, apparently doubted her. It brought back some unpleasant memories.
But for the local police to have sent someone undercover to keep watch, they, at least, must be taking her seriously. What a relief, after being ignored so blatantly before. It felt strange, though, to think she had an ally of sorts in this irritating cop.
Dianna stood and walked toward the window behind Wally’s desk. Looking down toward the courtyard, she could not see the pushcart where she had first viewed the man.
She turned back toward the sofa where he sat once more, one muscular leg crossed nonchalantly over the other in his snug jeans. The security chief sat ramrod-stiff beside him, the tight expression on his bearlike face all but shouting his annoyance.
“Why do you think I’m in danger, Lieutenant?” she asked.
“My commander got a call from Officer Treya, a community relations officer here, at the Van Nuys Station. He told me about the Englander Dispute Resolution Center, and that the late Representative Englander’s widow works here. He also said you’d informed him of seeing your husband’s alleged murderer here a couple of times.”
“He’s more than an alleged murderer,” Jeremy contradicted. “Dianna saw him shoot Brad Englander.”
Only half-conscious of the gesture, Dianna placed her hand on her abdomen. Brad was not the only victim of that horrifying scene…. “But everyone’s innocent untilproven guilty in a court of law,” she recited in a monotone, watching a hint of amusement play in Lt. Bronson’s deep blue eyes. “Right, Lieutenant?”
He nodded and stood. “But I’m inclined to believe that an eyewitness is probably right. Which brings me back to why I’m here. Officer Treya asked a detective to look into the situation, but, as you know, Mrs. Englander, no one, not even the feds, has been able to nab the suspect. But Glen Farley’s been implicated in some other situations. One was recent—the bombing of a redevelopment area in downtown L.A.”
Dianna’s heart rate speeded up as if she had pressed on an accelerator. “I hadn’t heard that Farley was involved.” She kept her breathing even. “But I’m not surprised.” And that explained why, this time, she was being taken seriously.
“It’s just speculation so far,” the police officer said calmly. “In any event, we’re placing a few strategic undercover officers to keep an eye on the Englander Center, just in case.”
“Just in case what?” demanded Cal Flynn.
“Just in case he decides that one bombing in the L.A. area isn’t enough. Or—” he continued, looking directly at Dianna “—if he thinks that murdering one Englander isn’t enough, either.”
Chapter Two
Travis almost wished he hadn’t left his knives outside, locked in the cart. Juggling would help right about now.
He shoved his hands hard into the pockets of his jeans—his damn restless hands, hands that wanted to touch the lovely woman who’d gone so pale before his eyes. To help her to her chair and steady her now as she stumbled over the few steps to get there.
To hold her tight and comfort away the fear that made her gnaw, with perfect white teeth, on her lush bottom lip.
“We need you to cooperate, Ms. Englander.” His voice barked more gruffly than he’d intended. She was simply another citizen. One under his protection. No one under his protection would be harmed ever again, nor would he allow himself to care about one more than others. He’d learned that lesson well. He would simply do his job. And this time, he would do it right.
“I’m sure she’ll cooperate.” The slimeworm Flynn was talking, a hell of a lot more placatingly than before. His turf was being invaded by the cops, and he clearly didn’t like it one damned bit. But he could hardly tell the LAPD to go chase itself—at least not in so many words.
With only the slightest squaring of her slim shoulders beneath her dark suit jacket, Dianna Englander seemed to regain control. She sat, then crossed one slender ankle over the other.
Her skirt was short. Or was it that her legs were long? In either case, their end
less, shapely forms tantalized Travis.
He abruptly drew his gaze back to her face. Solemnity raised her small, slightly pointed chin.
“Look, officer.” Jeremy Alberts had taken Dianna’s former position near the window. “Of course we’ll cooperate. But we need to make sure the Center and its business aren’t compromised. It’s not unusual these days for buildings to have beefed up security, and we did that. But if people learn the police have us under special surveillance…well, that’s different.”
“Of course,” Travis echoed sardonically. “We wouldn’t want to compromise your business just to save a life or two.”
The other guy from the building, Wally Sellers, who was walking back toward his desk chair, made a sound as if he had swallowed his spit wrong.
“That’s uncalled for.” Dianna Englander rose to face Travis. Her bright blue eyes were ablaze with indignation. There was no sign of her earlier fear. That, at least, was good.
“Sorry,” Travis said, though he knew he didn’t sound in the least chastened. “We don’t intend to harm the Englander Center. There’ll be less possibility of that if you cooperate.”
“Of course,” she acknowledged with a curt nod. “What would you like me to do?”
Travis had done his research. He knew that Jeremy Alberts and Wally Sellers were partners in A-S Development. A-S had formed a public-private partnership with the City of Los Angeles to build the Englander Center at the edge of the Van Nuys civic center, to extend the redevelopment of the area. Only it wasn’t called Englander Center then. It was renamed for the U.S. Representative whose redevelopment efforts caused it to be built after he was murdered during its construction two years ago.
“First thing,” he said, “I’d like you to give me a tour of Englander Center.”
“I’d be glad to later,” Jeremy Alberts interceded, taking a step toward Travis. The fiftyish man, whose hair had gone silver, was obviously used to being in control. Travis wondered idly if his partner Wally ever got his way in an argument. As between the domineering Alberts and his chubby, uneasily smiling partner, Travis suspected Wally had his mind changed often if it dared to hold a differing opinion. “We have people coming in for a meeting now, but I’ll show you around soon as they’re gone. Or perhaps you would like Mr. Flynn to do it.”
Guardian of Her Heart Page 2
