by Cassie Miles
“Can I tell you the truth?” she asked.
“That would be best.”
She made eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. “I didn’t actually witness the shooting. I saw Frankie with the gun in his hand. He screwed on a silencer. I heard the gunshot, and I saw the bullet holes...and the blood. But I didn’t actually witness Frankie pointing the gun and pulling the trigger.”
“Minor point,” he said. “A good prosecutor can connect those dots.”
“The body that washed ashore five days later was too badly nibbled by fishes for identification.” She splayed her fingers on the dresser and stared down at them. “I was kind of hoping he was someone else, someone who jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge, but Agent Levine matched his DNA.”
“To what?”
“I’d given a description to a sketch artist and identified the victim from a mug sheet photo. His name was Roger Patrone.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know him.”
“He was thirty-five, only a couple of years older than you, and made his living with a small-time gambling operation in a cheesy strip joint. Convicted of fraud, he served three years.”
“You’ve done your homework.”
“Never married, no kids, he was orphaned when he was nine and grew up with a family in Chinatown. He speaks the language, eats the food, knows the customs and has a reputation as a negotiator for Wynter.”
“Roger sounds like a useful individual,” Sean said. “I’m guessing the old man wasn’t too happy about this murder.”
“Yeah, well, blood is still thicker than water. The FBI brought Frankie in for questioning, but one of the other guys in Wynter Corp confessed to killing Patrone and claimed self-defense. He took the fall for the boss’s son.”
Sean left the bed and came up behind her. His chest wasn’t actually touching her back, but if she moved one step, she’d be in his arms.
In a measured tone, he said, “You’re telling me that Frankie’s not in custody.”
“No, he’s not.”
“And he knows there’s a witness.”
“Yes.”
“Did you write about the murder?”
“Agent Levine asked me not to.” But she had written many articles about the evil-doing of Wynter Corporation.
“Does Frankie have your name?”
“No,” she said. “I write under an alias, three different aliases, in fact. And I have two dummy blogs. Since my communication with these publications is via the internet, nobody even knows what I look like.”
“Smart.”
“Thank you.” Her reflection smiled at his. So far, so good. She might make it through the night with no more explanation than that. There was more to tell, but she didn’t want to get involved with Sean. Not again.
He continued. “And you’re also smart to have left Frankie and the other thugs behind in San Francisco. Hazelwood Ranch seems like a safe place to stay until this all dies down.”
Unfortunately, she hadn’t come to visit Aunt Hazel for safety reasons. Her gaze flickered across the surface of the mirror. She didn’t want to tell him.
He leaned closer, whispered in her ear. “What is it, Emily? What do you want to say?”
The words came tumbling out. “Frankie is here in Colorado. The Wynter family has a gated compound over near Aspen. I didn’t come here to give up on my investigation. I need to go deeper.”
He grasped her upper arms. “Leave this to the police.”
From downstairs, there was a scream.
Chapter Three
“Aunt Hazel!”
Though Emily’s immediate reaction was to run toward the sound of the scream, Sean only allowed her to take two steps before he grabbed her around the middle and yanked her so hard that her feet left the floor. This was why he’d been hired.
He dragged her across the bedroom. There was only one thought in his mind: get her to safety. In the attached bathroom, he set her down beside a claw-foot tub.
“Stay here,” he ordered as he drew his gun. “Keep quiet.”
“The hell I will.”
Though he hated to waste time with explanation, she needed to know what was going on. He spoke in a no-nonsense tone. “If there’s been a break-in, they’re after you. If you turn yourself in, we have no leverage. For your Aunt Hazel’s safety, you need to avoid being taken captive.”
“Okay, help her.” Her face flushed red with fear and anger. Her eyes were wild. She pushed at his shoulder with both hands. “Hurry!”
Moving fast, he crossed to her closed bedroom door. He wished he was wearing boots instead of just socks. If he had to go outside, his feet would turn to ice. He paused at the door and mentally ran through the layout of the house. From the upstairs landing, he could see the front door. He’d know if someone had broken in that way.
Sean was confident in his ability to handle one intruder, maybe two. But Frankie Wynter had a lot of thugs at his disposal, and they were loyal; one guy was willing to face a murder rap for the boss’s son. One—or two or more—of them might be standing outside her bedroom door right now.
But he didn’t hear anything. Outside, the snow rattled against the windows. The wind whistled. From downstairs, he heard shuffling noises. A heavy fist rapping at the door? A muffled shout. Sean turned the knob, pulled the door open and braced the gun in his hands, ready to shoot.
There was no one on the upstairs landing.
Emily dashed to his side. “Let me help. Please!”
He’d told her to stay back and she chose to ignore him. Emily was turning into a problem. “Is that tub in the bathroom made of cast iron?”
“It’s antique. Now is not the time for a home tour.”
“Get inside the tub and stay there.” At least, she wouldn’t be hit by a stray bullet.
“I’m coming with you.”
Was she trying to drive him crazy or was this stubborn, infuriating behavior just a part of her natural personality? He couldn’t exactly remember. He’d had damn good reasons for divorcing this woman. “No time to argue. Just accept the fact that I know what I’m doing.”
“I need a gun.”
“What you need is to listen to me.”
“Please, Sean! You always carry two guns. Give one to me.”
He pulled the Glock from his ankle holster and slapped it into her hand. “Do you remember how to use this?”
She recited the rules he’d taught her one golden afternoon six years ago in Big Sur. “Aim and don’t close my eyes. No traditional safety on a Glock, so keep my finger off the trigger until I’m ready. Squeeze—don’t yank.”
“You’ve got the basics.”
He’d treated their lessons like a game and had never insisted that she take his weapon from the combination safe when he was on assignment and she was alone at home. While he was working undercover, he’d worried about her safety, worried that she’d be hurt and it would be his fault. There was a strange irony in the fact that she’d put herself in ten times more danger than he could imagine.
He peered through the open bedroom door onto the upstairs landing where an overhead light shone down on the southwestern decor that dominated the house: a Navajo rug, a rugged side table and a cactus in an earthenware pot. A long hallway led to other bedrooms. The front edge of the landing was a graceful black wrought-iron staircase overlooking the foyer and chandelier by the front door.
Sean peered over the railing.
A menacing silence rose to greet him. He didn’t like the way this was going. Emily’s aunt wasn’t the type of woman who cowered in silence. He gestured for Emily to stay upstairs while he descended.
At the foot of the staircase, he caught a glimpse of flying kimono dragons when Hazel raced across the foyer and skidded to a stop right in front of
him.
She glared. “Where the heck is my rifle?”
Looking down from the landing, Emily said, “I moved it to the front closet.”
“I had my gun right by the door,” she said to Sean. “Emily shouldn’t have moved it. Out of sight, out of mind.”
The women in this family simply didn’t grasp what it took to be cautious and safe. They needed ten bodyguards apiece. He rushed Hazel up the stairs, where she hugged Emily. The two of them commiserated as though the threat were over and done with. Had they forgotten that there might be an intruder?
“Hazel,” he barked, “why did you scream?”
“I heard something outside and looked through the window. A fat lot of good it did, the snow’s coming down so hard I couldn’t see ten feet. But I caught a glimmer...headlights. I went toward the front door for a better look. At the exact same time, I heard somebody crashing against the back door like they were trying to bust it down. That’s when I screamed.”
Sean figured that five minutes had passed since they’d heard Hazel’s cry for help. “After you screamed, what did you do?”
“I hid.”
“Smart,” he said. “You didn’t reveal your hiding spot until you saw me.”
She nodded, and her short silver hair bounced.
“Did you see the intruder? Did he make a noise? Was there more than one?”
“Well, my hearing isn’t what it once was, but I’m pretty sure there was only one voice. And I guarantee that nobody made enough noise to tear down the back door.”
As Sean herded Emily and her aunt into Emily’s bedroom, he tallied up the possible ways to break into the house. In addition to front and back door and many windows, there was likely an entrance to a root cellar or basement. The best way to limit access to the two women was to keep them upstairs. Unfortunately, it also meant they had no escape.
From Emily’s bedroom, he peered through the window to the area where the cars were parked. He squinted. “I can see the outline of a truck.”
“So?”
“Do you recognize it?” Is that Frankie Wynter’s truck?
“We’re in the mountains, Sean. Every other person drives a truck.”
A coating of snow had already covered the truck bed; he couldn’t tell if anybody had been riding in back. But the vehicle showed that someone else was on the property, even if there hadn’t been other noises from downstairs.
He gave Emily a tight smile. “Stay here with Hazel. Take care of her.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ll check the doors and other points of access.”
Her terse nod was a match for his smile. They were both putting on brave faces and tamping down the kind of tension that might cause your hand to tremble or your teeth to chatter. When she rested her hand against his chest, he was reminded of the early days in their marriage when she’d say goodbye before he left on assignment.
“Be careful, Sean.”
He tore his gaze away from her turquoise eyes and her rose petal lips. Her trust made him feel strong and brave, even if he wasn’t facing a real dragon. He was girding his loins, like a knight protecting his castle. In the old days, they would have kissed.
“I should come with you,” Aunt Hazel said. “You need someone to watch your six.”
“Stay here,” he growled.
Emily hooked her arm around her aunt’s waist. “We might as well do what he says. Sean can be a teensy bit rigid when it comes to obeying orders.”
“My, my, my.” Hazel adjusted the embroidered dragons on her shoulders. “Isn’t that just like a fed?”
Hey, lady, you’re the one who called me. And he was done playing their games. As far as he was concerned, they’d had their last warning. He refused to stand here and explain again why they shouldn’t throw themselves into the line of fire when there was a possible intruder. He made a quick pivot and descended the staircase with the intention of searching the main floor.
The house was large but not so massive that he’d get lost. First, he would determine if an intruder was inside. The front door hadn’t been opened. The door to a long, barrack-type wing where ranch hands might sleep during a busy season was locked, and the same was true for the basement door and the back door that opened onto a wide porch. Though it had a dead bolt, the back door lock was flimsy, easily blasted through with a couple of gunshots. As far as he could tell, no weapons had been fired.
When he pushed open the back door, a torrent of glistening snow swept inside. The area near the rear porch was trampled with many prints in the snow. Was it one person or several? He couldn’t tell, but Hazel’s story was true. She’d heard someone back here.
As he closed the rear door and relocked it, he heard Emily call his name. Her voice was steady, strong and unafraid. Weapon raised, he rushed toward the front of the house. The door was opening. A man in a brown parka with fur around the hood plodded inside.
Though he didn’t look like much of a threat, Sean wasn’t taking any chances. “Freeze.”
“I sure as hell will if I don’t close this door.”
As the man in the parka turned to shut the front door, Hazel came down the staircase. “It’s okay, Sean. This is my neighbor, Willis. He was a deputy sheriff until he retired a couple of years ago.”
“I was worried, Hazel.” As he shoved off his hood, unzipped the parka and stomped his snowmobile boots, puddles of melted snow appeared on the terra-cotta tile floor. “Couldn’t reach you on the phone, so I decided to come over here and check before I went to bed. Hi, Emily.”
“Hey, Willis.”
“Take off those boots.” Hazel pointed to the bench by the door. “Are you hungry? Emily made a big pot of chili.”
He sat and grinned at Sean and Emily. His face was ruddy and wet. A few errant flakes of snow still clung to his thick mustache. “And who’s this young fella with the Glock?”
“Sean Timmons of TST Security.” He shook the older man’s meaty hand. “I’m Emily’s bodyguard.”
Willis was clearly intrigued. Why did Emily need protection? What other kind of security work did Sean do? He pushed the strands of wet gray hair off his forehead and straightened his mustache before he asked, “You hiring?”
“Part time,” Sean said. “I can always use a man with experience as a deputy sheriff.”
“Seventeen years,” Willis said. “And I still work with the volunteer fire brigade and mountain search and rescue.”
“Plus you’ve got your own little neighborhood watch.” Sean had the feeling that Hazel got more attention from the retired deputy than the others in this area. “You have a key to the front door.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you mind telling me why you banged on the back door and didn’t let yourself in?”
“The back door is always unlocked, and it was a few less steps through the blizzard than the front. When I found it locked, I was pretty damn mad. I yanked at the handle to make sure it wasn’t just stuck, and I might have let out a few choice swear words.”
“Scared me half to death,” Hazel said.
“I heard you scream.” Willis looked down at the floor between his boots. He wore two pairs of wool socks. Both had seen better days. “And I felt like a jackass for scaring you.”
She patted his cheek, halfway chiding and halfway flirting. “You’re lucky I couldn’t find my rifle.”
While he explained that his keys were in the truck, and he had to tromp back out there to find the right ones, Hazel fussed over him. She was a touchy-feely person who hugged and patted and stroked. Sean noted her behavior and realized how similar it was to methods Emily used to calm him, mesmerize him and convince him to do whatever she wanted.
He glanced toward her. She sat on the fourth step, where she had a clear view of the others i
n the foyer. Her gaze flicked to the left, but he knew she’d been watching him. A hard woman to figure out. Was she angry or nervous? Independent or lonely?
Earlier tonight, she’d been on the verge of a panic attack. Her eyes had been wide with fear. Her muscles were so tightly clenched that she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Scared to death, and he didn’t blame her. James Wynter and his associates were undeniably dangerous.
A muscle in his jaw clenched. Why had she chosen to go after these violent criminals? And how did Levine justify leaving this witness unprotected? The FBI had been chasing Wynter for years, way before Sean was stationed in San Francisco. A chance to lock up Frankie Wynter would be a coup.
“Then it’s settled,” Hazel said. “Willis is sticking around for some chili and a couple of beers. You kids come into the dining room and join us.”
“In a minute,” Emily promised as she rose to her feet and motioned for Sean to come toward her.
She stayed on the first step, and he stood below her. They were almost eye level.
He asked, “Did you have something you wanted to say?”
“You did good tonight. I know that Hazel and I can be a handful, but you managed us. You were organized, quick. And when we thought we needed you, there you were, charging around the corner and yelling for Willis to freeze. You were...” She exhaled a sigh. “Impressive.”
Her compliment made him leery. “It’s what I do.”
“Not that we actually needed your bodyguard skills.” She caught hold of his hand and gave a squeeze. “This was a simple misunderstanding because of the blizzard.”
“You have plenty of reason to be worried,” he reminded her. “You mentioned the Wynter family compound near Aspen. Tonight it was Willis at the door. Tomorrow it might be Frankie Wynter.”
“Don’t make this into a worst-case scenario.” She continued to hold his hand, and he felt the tension in her grip. “Tonight a neighbor came to pay a visit. That’s all. And the blizzard is just snow. It’s harmless. Kids play in it. Ever build a snowman?”
“Ever get caught in an avalanche?” He was keeping the tone light, but there was something important he needed to say. “Seriously, Emily, you need a bodyguard.”
