The Fixer

by HelenKay Dimon

She burst into action. Shuffled across the floor, crouching down to look at this paper and that one. Before he could catch her arm, she maneuvered around the couch. Every muscle sprung to action, like a bundle of exposed nerves. The walking, the scanning, the studying. Emery unleashed an amount of energy that had the whole room tilting in response.

  “I have to look through these.” She bent over by the edge of the couch and scooped up two fistfuls of papers. She looked at each one, reading and then dropping when she got to the end. “We can tell what he wants by seeing what’s no longer here.”

  “Emery.”

  She waved him off. “It’s okay. I have it all memorized.”

  That’s the kind of comment that scared the hell out of him. “I think you should sit down.”

  She stilled and her arms fell to her sides. “How can I?”

  Watching her now he could see the pain. Her body listed to one side and her mouth screwed up in a look of concentration. All the color had left her face and the easy banter disappeared. She hovered right on the edge. He sensed it as much as felt it.

  “Okay.” He waited until she nodded to turn her attention to Keith. “You can wait in the hall. We’re fine.”

  The other man dropped his camera into his pocket and eased back toward the door. In another few steps, he walked out, closing the door behind him. That left Wren alone with Emery, who had turned into a little ball of energy. She whirled here and raced over to there. By the time she collected more papers and they filled each fist again she’d touched almost every corner of the floor.

  He was about to call out her name again when she stopped. Just powered down in the middle of the room. Stood there with drawn cheeks and a wall of desperation thumping off her.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know where to start.”

  He had no idea what the right answer was, but dragging her body and mind through this exercise over and over had to be terrible for her. A person could only take so much. She hunted evil and tried to bring answers to victims. She stood as a survivor amid the mess.

  But the bigger problem was getting her out of there. There was a possibility the person who broke in still waited nearby. He could be listening in. Wren needed the place searched, the police called in and new alarm equipment installed, and all without talking about Tiffany and potentially drawing the wrong people out into the open before he could put the proper protections in place.

  She would balk at all of that. That left him few options, none of them particularly new to him. None dangerous to her, but all came with a heavy dose of asshole behavior on his part. Weighing her safety against her temper, he decided to take the risk.

  “With wine.” He used a lighter tone, hoping to bring back some of the life in her eyes.

  She shook her head, her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Are you a big drinker?”

  “Not particularly, but I can tell from the collection that you like it.” He nodded at the two wine racks on the table behind her couch. Both full. “White or red?”

  She followed his gaze then went back to staring at him. Her expression stayed blank, but she finally seemed to focus on him more than the chaos around her. “Red.”

  “Sit.” He had to work fast. Get her relaxed and move in.

  She started to ease down then shot back up again. “I don’t really want to touch anything.”

  He couldn’t blame her, but that didn’t make his job any easier. “Then how are you going to look through—”

  “I was going to beg you to do it.” She shook her head. “I know you have a lot of the files. With your help I think we could figure it out.”

  “Ah.” That sounded like trust to him, which made what he planned to do even shittier. “You only have to ask.”

  “I think I just did.”

  “Good enough.” He moved around behind her and started massaging her shoulders. Rubbed along her tight muscles and down to her biceps before traveling up again.

  Her head fell forward on a groan. “That’s one of your hidden superpowers.”

  “I decided it was time to let you in on my secret.”

  “Your hands feel so good.”

  “Good.” He made a mental note to give her a massage again when he wasn’t in the middle of manipulating her.

  She said something he couldn’t hear and he asked her to repeat it. The second time the words came louder. “I blew it.”

  His hands stilled on her neck. “Meaning?”

  “I made it known I was looking for you. Searched you out, mentioned you—well, the name Wren—on a message board that tracks missing people.”

  The message board piece was news. Bad fucking news. “You did?”

  “The senator, the police. A reporter I know.”

  And now a reporter. Jesus, they needed to go through all of this at some point. Not today and not now. She needed to be out of there and away from the confusion that had descended on her life. But at some point they needed to talk about all she’d done to investigate his identity so that he could try to undo any of the potential damage. “That’s very enterprising of you.”

  She pushed away from him and started pacing. Her balance seemed off and she mumbled to herself, breaking now and then to say something to him. “I can’t stop shaking.”

  He saw the tremors move through her. Tense and on edge, waiting for attack. “You need to rest and I need to get you out of here.”

  “I don’t . . . what?” She shook her head. “No. It’s fine. I just need to concentrate.”

  She seemed to go over some invisible edge. She didn’t stop moving. Her eyes stayed wide and she didn’t blink. Then she started to babble. She said something about her uncle and started listing out all the documents that should be in her boxes.

  She stopped walking around in circles and rubbed her hands together. “No, that’s not the right order. I’m missing some and I can’t miss any.”

  Jesus. “Emery.”

  “I’ll start over.” She waved her hand and then went back to the beginning of the list again, stopping only long enough to mention the names of potential kidnappers, of the men the police had already excluded.

  Seeing her this way, so detached from reality and removed from her usual strength, killed him. He needed her calm and rational. He wanted her somewhere safe.

  He also wanted his guys in there, doing a thorough search, checking every corner and every fingerprint. Setting up as much surveillance equipment as possible. That meant taking her out of there and keeping her away until the panic washed away and he could be ready to prevent another attack. Not an easy task.

  After a quick run through his options, he went with the easiest one. The one guaranteed to piss her off later when she slipped back into being herself, but he’d take the heat if it meant figuring out who was trying to blow up her personal life.

  “You’re going to . . .” He pressed on the right spot. Careful and quick, but it had her gasping. Then nothing. “Fall over.”

  The papers in her hands fell to the floor and scattered as her body went limp. He caught her in his arms and lifted her off the floor. For a second, he just stood there, holding her in the silence. Enjoying the feel of her. The warmth of her body.

  His gaze roamed around the room. He looked for any evidence no matter how tiny that would clue him in about the danger haunting her life these days. From what he could tell, she’d gone a lifetime without being pursued and watched. Now this.

  Someone kept getting into her building and this time into her most personal space. There were scuff marks around the lock on the door, but Wren wasn’t convinced they showed a forced entry. The person came by when she wasn’t there. Possibly a coincidence or maybe someone who knew her schedule. Add in Tyler’s sudden reappearance and her public attempt to get Tiffany’s case back on anyone’s radar, and the threat of danger became all too real.

  “Keith?” The door opened as soon as Wren called out.

  The bodyguard stood there frowning as he looked at Emery’s sprawl with her hair hang
ing over his arm. “What happened? Is she okay?”

  “She’s asleep.”

  Keith’s frown only deepened. “She was walking around as if—”

  There was no need to tiptoe around this. “I knocked her out.”

  This time Keith made a face. “Was that wise?”

  Oh, hell, no. He might have trouble with people and knowing how to act and what might upset others, but Wren knew this move was not going to go over well. He was not a complete dumbass. He’d pay for this no matter how well intentioned the move was. “Definitely not. She’s going to be pissed and rightly so.”

  “Then why do it?”

  Wren had asked himself that question so many times. He should be able to treat Emery like any other client in any other case—with cool detachment. But he couldn’t maintain the separation. She smiled and he felt it deep inside. She took him on, pushed back, and his attraction to her flared.

  But he wasn’t about to explain any of that. Not when he didn’t understand it at all and wasn’t ready to analyze it. “She was spinning.”

  “Sure.”

  Wren wasn’t used to being on the defensive. “I want her safe and she wasn’t exactly in the mood to listen to logic and accept my protection.”

  “I see.”

  That was the least convincing response Wren had ever heard. “Do you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Which is your way of telling me I’m in deep shit?”

  Keith nodded. “Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

  “I was hoping you’d disagree with me.” Sometimes Wren wished he’d surrounded himself with people who told him what he wanted to hear. Doing the opposite had been a sound business decision, but damn, it sucked to have people right there telling him when he screwed up. “Finish whatever forensics you need then call Detective Cryer. Tell him Emery was out when you found her apartment like this.”

  “The police will look for her. They might worry she’s been harmed or taken.”

  They better or he’d work behind the scenes to have them fired for incompetency. “Tell them she’s with me. The detective has my contact information and can call.”

  “You think that will be good enough to keep them from asking more questions?”

  For the detective for now, yes. For Emery, no. He’d have to start explaining the second she woke up. Even then . . . “I’ll make it be.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Emery heard noises. Voices. Somehow they lifted above the ringing in her ears. She shook her head and realized she sat up, lounged in a chair . . . or something.

  Her eyes popped open and her heartbeat kicked up to a gallop as she glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings. Beige leather seats. The oval windows. She was on a plane, a private plane. That could only mean one thing.

  She sat up straight. “Levi Wren!”

  He stepped out from behind her but didn’t say a word. So much for hoping she’d gotten locked in a dream. No, this was very real. She remembered being in her apartment and the tie. Him talking about wine. Then that massage . . . The clouds cleared and reality snapped into place. She had to grab on to the armrests of the plush seat to keep from strangling him.

  His need for control was annoying. This . . . well, she didn’t know what this was. She should be afraid and worried and demanding to see the pilot. She didn’t feel any of those things. Except confused. And pissed. She was really pissed.

  “You’re awake.” He didn’t sound too happy about that.

  Smart man. “What did you do?”

  “Now, wait a second.” He sat in the seat in front of her. “I can explain.”

  He’d likely take fifteen sentences and all sorts of fancy words to do it. She wanted the truth—now—so she started with the basic facts. “We’re on a plane.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yours?” She didn’t know why she bothered asking it as a question since that was the only explanation for how he got it so fast and had no trouble getting her limp body on board. That part was astonishing, really. A man in a suit carries a drugged woman to an airport and no one stops him, or at least that’s what she guessed since she was actually in the air and not in her apartment or at a police station.

  “I share it with . . . okay, the specifics don’t matter.” He frowned at her. “There’s no need to make a growling noise.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I intended to answer you.”

  That could only be a stall. No way was he that clueless. “I mean, why are we on a plane?”

  He had the good sense to wince. To not pretend to misunderstand. “Oh, that.”

  Amazing how he seemed to have lost a few IQ points now that they’d left the ground. “Yeah, that.”

  “You were upset.” That’s it. He actually stopped talking. Sat there with his arms draped over the sides of his chair. All relaxed and natural in his big-money environment.

  “You can’t possibly think that explains this.” She looked around, wondering what in the world could explain this.

  He had the nerve to frown at her. “I just wanted you out of there, somewhere safe.”

  “And you thought we should get on a plane instead of using a car? That you shouldn’t at least ask first before flying me across the country?” For some weird reason that didn’t surprise her. His reasoning made zero sense to her, but she imagined this made sense to him . . . somehow.

  “We’re just circling DC.”

  She hit him with sarcasm because that’s all she had at the moment. “Oh, okay, then.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” He started to shrug but stopped.

  “How old are you?”

  He winced. “Uh, thirty-five.”

  “So, old enough to know better.” By about twenty years.

  “I wouldn’t have taken you out of the metro area without your permission.”

  She saw him visibly swallow and took that as a sign that he realized he may have taken a wrong turn in his thinking on this one. “Because that would be outrageous, right?”

  “I’m not sure if you’re still being sarcastic.”

  Good Lord. “I am. I assure you.”

  “I wanted to take you to Garrett’s place in upstate New York for a few days.” He stared at her as if he was saying something reasonable and obvious. “Until we could figure out the reason for these break-ins.”

  Who the hell was Garrett? She had so many questions. “But instead you . . . actually, I give up. What’s going on here?”

  “I wanted your permission before we left the metro area. I needed for you to wake up for that.”

  It was as if he wanted her to throw him out a window. “So we’re flying in circles.”

  “Basically.”

  Basically. Sure. “But you did drug me.”

  “Of course not. That’s ridiculous.”

  She pointed at him in warning. “Not the smartest word for you to use right now.”

  “I wouldn’t drug you.” He sounded appalled at the idea.

  She felt as if she’d stepped into a black hole. “As opposed to whatever this is?”

  She settled back into the soft leather chair and studied him. His quick response qualified as a bit too much denial. He did something to get her on this plane without her remembering it, and she’d figure out what. She just needed a few minutes to adjust to the fact that he put her on a plane. An actual plane.

  The real question is why her anger had already begun to fizzle. She wasn’t screaming and kicking. She didn’t have a response to that. Not one she understood. Despite the caveman behavior and messed-up people skills, Wren charmed her. She sensed he meant well. He just had absolutely no idea what he should be doing to impress her. But this wasn’t it.

  “You don’t like to fly?” he asked.

  “Honestly, you are ten seconds away from getting punched.” Maybe that would make him understand how big and risky this move was. Whatever he hoped to accomplish couldn’t be worth her wrath. Lucky for him, she was more curious than anything else at the moment. Tho
ugh his frustrated frown was pretty cute. “And that sad face won’t help you, so tell me why I’m really here.”

  “Like I said, I wanted you out of your apartment and safe until I could figure out who broke in and why. So, I used a pressure point to knock you out.”

  “Normal people would ask before taking me out of my house.” Then again, most people wouldn’t knock her out. At some point she needed to find out what he did because that struck her as a skill that could come in handy now and then.

  He glanced out the window into the dark night with the blinking lights below. “As you’ve told me several times, with that one notable exception, I’m not all that normal.”

  The tone. The lack of eye contact. The combination made her wonder if the throwaway comment, made to sound half-joking, really bothered him. “I think you may be abusing that insight.”

  “I don’t know what that means.” He turned back to face her with a renewed intensity in his eyes. “But the point was to get you out of there, scour the place, check nearby security cameras. And, honestly, to keep you from being subjected to more police questions. In my experience, after the police are called to one house several times for break-in charges they start to question the victim and what he or she is doing in the house that’s causing all the trouble.”

  “That all sounds sort of reasonable, which has me concerned about my own sanity.” She leaned her head back and sank deeper into the seat cushion. “Also makes me think there’s a part you’re not saying.”

  “I knew you’d fight me on leaving the house and I wanted you out.”

  That sounded exactly like something he would do. “So, this is about your bossiness.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Levi Wren.” She needed him to at least admit he’d overstepped.

  “Fine. Yes. I generally just handle things rather than ask for permission, and that’s what I did here. Clearly that wasn’t the best choice.” He spoiled the pseudo-apology by grumbling under his breath. Then he peeked up at her and treated her to a heated half smile. “I like when you say my name, by the way. No one has said it, including me, in a very long time.”

  “Don’t try to adorable your way out of this.” Man, he was right on the edge of making her forgive him without more begging. “Can we land?”