14
“And that’s what happened,” Tansy finished an hour later.
They were all sitting around the dining room table in Walter Leighton’s house, the office being too small to accommodate them all.
They were all there. Tansy, her father, and Mick Callahan. JB and Max. Gus and Cisco had vacated the back gate and headed back to the hotel now that it seemed the danger had passed, and they had taken Rusty with them, since he claimed there wasn’t anything he could add to the conversation that they couldn’t already get from JB or Max. Of all of them, Rusty was the one who least liked this kind of human interaction.
Meanwhile, one of Mick’s men was on the front gate, and things were back to normal on the Leighton estate.
“So Conrad wrote the note?” Mick said. The chief of security looked disgusted, not just with Conrad, but with himself, for having employed Conrad without realizing what the man was capable of.
“Looks that way,” Max answered. “He wanted to scare you. Enough that you’d take him off gate duty and put him back on protecting Ms. Leighton.”
Everyone looked at Tansy. “He must have lost his mind,” she said. She was every inch the heiress, with her hair combed back from her face and properly tamed after her adventure, and JB kind of missed the imperfect but fierce woman she became under pressure. The woman who had broken his collarbone a year ago, and who had trusted him enough to let him shove her off a two-story balcony this morning.
But then she glanced at him across the table, and her eyes warmed. They looked at one another for a second before someone—Max—cleared his throat. Tansy’s cheeks colored, and she added, “I think he thought that if he could go back to protecting me, I’d eventually end up falling for him. He must have watched too many of those movies where the heroine falls for the bodyguard.”
“We left him there,” JB said. “There wasn’t much we could do. He didn’t abduct Ms. Leighton. She got in his car willingly. And entered his apartment willingly. At no time did he tell her she was a prisoner and couldn’t leave.”
Tansy shook her head.
“He took the dog. But I’m not sure how reasonable it’ll be to prosecute him for dognapping. It’s a misdemeanor, at best.”
“Oh,” Walter Leighton said grimly, “I’m sure I could get something to stick.”
JB thought the older man probably could. If Walter wanted Conrad thrown in prison for dognapping, the local police might just cooperate. One of the benefits of being Walter Leighton.
“You’ll have to fire him,” Max said, “of course.”
Mick nodded. “When I’m done with him, the best job he can hope to get will be garbage collector. In South Philly. And if he dares show his face around here again, I’ll set the dogs on him.”
Since the only dog around the estate was Mimi, curled up on Tansy’s lap with ointment on her abused snout, the threat was pretty empty. But they got the point.
“The weapon he’s carrying was issued by me,” Mick added. “I’ll have to get it back. I should probably request a police escort, under the circumstances.”
Not a bad idea. JB nodded. So did Max. “No telling how desperate he is, at this point.”
“And perhaps you’d like to come along, as well,” Mick added.
Max nodded. “I have a few things I’d like to say to him.”
JB didn’t doubt it. He had a few things he’d like to say to Conrad, as well, although he doubted he’d get the chance.
“You,” Max told him, with a warning glance, “stay here.”
Since a lot of Conrad’s anger had been fixated on JB, JB had hoped to get some of his own back. During the minute or two on the balcony, tossing first Mimi and then Tansy down to Max, he’d been secretly hoping that Conrad would figure out what was going on and would come running so he—JB—would have a chance to punch Conrad right in his perfect face. Maybe he’d break that perfect nose, or at least a few of those perfect teeth.
But he was willing to leave it to Max. Maybe Max wouldn’t hit Conrad—although JB could hope—but he’d put the fear of God in him. Or the fear of Max, which might be even better. God was ultimately good. Mad Max had very few limitations on what he was willing to do, in a good cause.
“While you do that,” Walter Leighton said, “I certainly intend to call the police and have them issue a restraining order. If he comes within a hundred yards of the estate—or Tansy—I’ll have him thrown in prison for the rest of his natural life.”
Nobody doubted that Walter Leighton could get that done.
Mick pushed his chair back. “You do that. They know how to get in touch with me if they want a corroborative statement. Meanwhile, we’d better go get that weapon. The sooner the better.”
Max agreed. So did JB, even though he wasn’t going. Nobody wanted Conrad out there with a deadly weapon on his hip any longer than necessary.
“I’ll meet you back here,” Max told him. “Say your goodbyes and be ready to go when I get back.”
JB nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He resisted the temptation to salute, but just barely. Max gave him a jaundiced look that clearly said he hadn’t resisted successfully enough, since Max knew what he’d been thinking. Max didn’t speak, though, just followed Mick out of the room.
Walter cleared his throat. “I’ll... um... go to my office for a bit. Call the police and get that restraining order going.”
He pushed his chair back, and looked from Tansy to JB and back. “I imagine the two of you might have some things to talk about.”
They did. JB stole a look at Tansy as her father walked out of the room.
She didn’t look at him.
“How about we take a walk?” he suggested, since sitting here and getting things off his chest would be harder than walking and talking. Forward momentum always helped. “It’s safe out there.”
Tansy nodded. She dropped Mimi gently to the floor, and waited for JB to pull out her chair. They left the dining room, crossed the conservatory, and headed out onto the patio in silence.
After several minutes, Tansy obviously couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’m sorry I left.”
“You scared the shit out of me,” JB told her honestly, without bothering to censor his language for her more delicate sensibilities. “When Rusty called and told me you weren’t in the conservatory, and he couldn’t find you in the rest of the house, and nobody knew where you were, I about lost it. And then we realized Conrad was gone, too. And by then we already knew the story he’d told about the dog wasn’t true...”
“He said she was outside the gate,” Tansy said, looking at the small canine prancing ahead of them into the formal garden. “He said she was outside on the road, and that she wouldn’t come to him. And she wouldn’t. If she’d been there. So I believed him.”
“And you ran.”
She nodded. “When I got to the gate, Conrad’s truck was already waiting. He told me she’d taken off up the road, but that we could catch her.”
“And you didn’t think to call me?”
“I thought about it,” Tansy said, with a guilty look at him. “I thought about how angry you’d be that I’d promised not to leave, and then I’d left.”
At least she’d thought of him. That was something. Even if it was just to consider how angry he’d be.
“But it was Mimi. He said Mimi was there. And I had to save Mimi!”
Of course she did. At that point, she didn’t know that the story about the man with the gun had been a lie. She didn’t know that it was Conrad who had taken Mimi, or that Mimi was safe and sound—if muzzled—in Conrad’s apartment.
“I guess he told you the truth eventually?” JB stuck both hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t fall into the temptation of reaching for one of hers. He was leaving in an hour or two, and he was going to miss her.
She nodded. “He wasn’t driving slowly enough for me to actually look for Mimi. It took me a couple of minutes to figure it out. But eventually I realized that the story about the m
an with the gun was just that, a story.”
“El Saud is in Mecca. Either because he’s found religion, or because Omar had a job for him there. But he isn’t here.”
“Good to know,” Tansy said, “even if the news is a little belated.”
It was. “So after you figured it out...?”
“I tried the car door. It wouldn’t open.”
So what he’d said inside wasn’t entirely true. At least during the drive, Tansy hadn’t been able to leave.
“But he said he had Mimi at his apartment. And I wanted to rescue Mimi. So I went with him.”
JB would have done the same. Especially under the circumstances.
Of course, he’d been trained to handle that kind of situation. Tansy hadn’t. Although that didn’t mean she hadn’t done a fine job. Both a year ago and today.
“You did great,” he told her, thinking maybe she needed to hear it. “If we hadn’t been there, you’d have figured out a way to get yourself and Mimi off the balcony, and you’d have saved her. And yourself. Again.”
He grinned at her. “You didn’t need us. Again.”
She looked unconvinced.
“You’re strong,” he told her. “So much stronger than you think. You look at yourself and see this frail hothouse flower who’s afraid a lot of the time.”
She nodded. Her eyes filled with tears.
“You know what I see when I look at you?”
She shook her head.
“A strong woman who does what’s necessary when she’s faced with a situation she has to handle. You know what bravery is, don’t you?”
“Running headfirst into danger,” Tansy said, swiping at her eyes. “The way you do.”
JB shook his head. “Bravery is not running away. It’s being scared, but doing what needs to be done anyway. Cowards run away. People who are brave stick it out, even when they’re scared. And they do the job.”
He reached for her, and she moved into his arms. He rested his cheek against the softness of her hair and just held her. “You’re brave. You’re a lot braver than you think.”
Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “I’m scared all the time. Even when there’s nothing to be afraid of. Even when all I’m afraid of is my own memories!”
“But you don’t let it stop you,” JB said. “You didn’t cower in your cabin waiting for rescue last year. You came up with a plan for rescuing yourself.” And had broken bones in the execution of it. She didn’t do anything halfway. “You went after Mimi. A lot of people would have told you that she’s just a dog, that it isn’t worth it to risk yourself to save her. But you went after her. And you would have saved her. If we hadn’t been there, you’d have figured out a way. Because that’s who you are. When things go wrong, you don’t just rise to the occasion. You come out of the gate gunning, and you save the day.”
She sniffed against his shoulder.
“You’re amazing. I’m sorry Conrad wrote the stupid note and scared you, but I’m so glad you asked for us, and I got a chance to get to know you.”
She lifted her head to look up at him. Her eyes were huge and luminous, with tears hanging in her lashes, and her lips trembled. “I don’t want you to go.”
He didn’t, either. But he had to go. As soon as Max came back.
But since he couldn’t bring himself to say it again—because he didn’t want to leave her—he bent his head and kissed her instead.
Really kissed her this time. Not the soft brush of lips from earlier. But a real kiss, one where he pulled her close until he could feel her body trembling against his, and where he had his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her ass pushing her closer to him, and her perfectly manicured nails were digging into his shoulders as if to hold him there and never let him leave, and it was pretty damn perfect, even if he knew he’d have to come up for air at some point and deal with the fact that he was a poor enlisted sailor in Uncle Sam’s Navy while she was heiress to the Leighton millions—or maybe billions—and she’d never want anything to do with him long-term...
Suddenly a mocking voice broke through the euphoria and brought him—brought them both—crashing back to earth. And reality.
“Isn’t that sweet?”
Tansy stiffened. One second she was soft and clingy in his arms, the next she was as brittle as fine china.
He tried to push her behind him, but she wasn’t moving. “What are you doing here?”
Her voice was cold, snooty. He could have told her that was a bad idea, especially after what Conrad had just witnessed, but she didn’t give him a chance. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
He wasn’t. Conrad was supposed to be in his apartment, in the little town five miles away, where Mick and Max had gone to relieve him of his employment and his weapon.
Obviously they must have missed each other, because Conrad was here, and so was his gun. It was pointed squarely at JB. Who tried to push Tansy behind him again.
She wasn’t going. “You don’t work here anymore,” she told Conrad. “You should leave before Mick sees you. Or Max.”
Conrad chuckled. “Nice try. But they aren’t here. I passed them on the way.”
There’d be no help from that quarter, then. The other SEALs were gone, and Mick’s guard on the gate was too far away to hear them call. By the time he got here, Conrad would have shot them both.
Of course, JB had a gun, too. It was holstered at the small of his back, where Conrad couldn’t see it.
Did Tansy know how to use a gun?
Not likely, he figured.
Although she might have seen enough TV to know how to point and shoot. And the Sig didn’t have a safety for her to worry about.
He turned to her. “Get behind me.”
Trying to move her there with his hands or the power of his mind hadn’t worked, so maybe if he actually asked, she’d go. For good measure, he added, “Please.”
Conrad chuckled. “Don’t worry, soldier. I’m not pointing the gun at her. I’m pointing it at you.”
“Sailor,” JB growled. Yes, he could see very well where the gun was pointed, thank you. He didn’t need Conrad to spell it out. “I’m a sailor. And I’m not leaving her in the line of fire. What kind of fuckhead are you, that you’d point a gun at a girl?”
“The kind of fuckhead who’ll still be standing when you’re six feet under,” Conrad said gaily.
Touché.
Tansy still hadn’t moved, so JB turned back to her. “Please, Tansy. Just do me a favor and get behind me, OK? This is my job. I’m here to protect you. Right now there’s a man with a gun,” he emphasized the word, “pointed at us, and I need you to get behind me.”
One of the other men on his team would have caught the message. He wasn’t sure whether Tansy did, but she did step a foot or so to the right, where she was at least halfway hidden behind him. “Please don’t hurt him, Conrad,” she said from back there.
Conrad giggled. There was no other word for it. “What’s it worth to you?”
“Worth?” Tansy went from cool heiress to shrieking harpy in a heartbeat. “Worth? This is about money?”
Of course it was about money. With Tansy, it would always be about money.
“Too bad you never showed up at the FUBAR,” JB told her over his shoulder. “I would have told you to look out for his guy.”
She gave him a fulminating look. “Now isn’t the time to be funny, John.”
Now was exactly the time to be funny. Or not. “You know,” he told her. “I think I might love you.”
She leaned a little closer, and sniffed against his shoulder blade.
“You were supposed to fall for me!” Conrad told her, his voice edged with anger. He gestured with the gun, arching it in JB’s direction. JB tensed. “I’m better looking than he is. Why didn’t you want me?”
Tansy had discovered JB’s gun. He could feel her lifting it from the holster and weighing it in her hand.
“Anytime you’re ready,” JB told her.
JB didn’t think Conrad had any plans of shooting Mimi, really. He was willing to bet it was just reflex: move the gun toward the new threat. Even if another look would show you that that threat was a six pound dog of which at least a third of the weight was hair.
“No!” Tansy shrieked.
And JB threw himself forward. The first punch broke Conrad’s perfect nose, and the second might have taken out a couple of perfect teeth. By then, Conrad was writhing on the ground, howling with pain and fury, so JB restrained himself from doing any more damage, at least for the enjoyment of it. He did use one last quick uppercut, though, to make sure Conrad was down and would stay down. Max would have been proud. Both of the work and of his restraint.
After making sure Conrad was unconscious and wouldn’t be getting up again, JB bent to pick up Conrad’s gun. Then he turned to Tansy, who had scooped up Mimi and was hugging the small dog close to her chest. She was still juggling the Sig in her other hand, obviously unsure what to do with it, and he took it away from her and put it back where it belonged. Conrad’s Beretta he stuffed down his waistband in the front.
“I’ll stay here with him,” he told her. “Do me a favor and go back inside. Get your father to call the cops, and get someone out here to pick him up.”
Tansy nodded. She glanced at Conrad. “He isn’t dead, is he?”
JB shook his head. “Not at all. He’ll be fine once he wakes up.” Except for the broken nose, and maybe the missing teeth, and the fact that he’d be going to prison. “He’s bleeding, see? He wouldn’t be doing that if he was dead.”
Tansy nodded. She was chewing her bottom lip.
“Problem?” JB asked.
“No.” But she still didn’t move.
“You did good. I’m proud of you.”
She smiled, but it looked sort of automatic. More of a reflex than a real smile.
The Socialite and the SEAL Page 14
