Guarding Him

by Kori David

  And he wanted her.

  Damn it—not good timing, and after only two days’ acquaintance. But he wanted that sassy mouth dueling with his, and he wanted those long legs wrapped around his waist while he—he cut that thought short before he had to excuse himself to take another cold shower.

  “Why were you creeping through my house on a Saturday, anyway?”

  Isobel dug into her purse and pulled out a small black thumb drive. Sliding it across the big table toward him, she said, “Miriam had this in her bra when she was taken to the hospital. Her daughter thinks it must be work-related. I don’t want to think we have a traitor on our hands.”

  “Bullshit,” he said, staring at the drive. “I vetted her myself; she’s clean.”

  “Then, let’s see what’s on the drive. I don’t want her to be guilty, Ian, but I have a bad feeling about it. Especially with all the weird threats we’ve been getting lately.”

  Pulling a paper out of her purse, she put it on the table as well. “I also have this.”

  When Ian didn’t move, Nic grabbed the sheet of paper and scanned it. “So, her car was tampered with.”

  “It was sloppy, but only if you knew where to look,” Isobel said. “The mechanic, his name is Tony, said this kind of cut is unpredictable. The person who did it could have done it up to two days prior to the accident or the same day; it’s impossible to tell and impossible to guess when the brakes and the accelerator would go out. I had him print out the results and sign it for the police. This will require an investigation.”

  “He would have been watching her coming and going from home and work to see when the accident could have happened,” Nic mused. “Did she ever mention anything about seeing a strange vehicle in her neighborhood? To either of you?”

  “She never said a word. But she just wasn’t herself the week before the crash. I was even saying that to Ian, wasn’t I?”

  Ian nodded. Looking from the worried face of his sister to the speculative look on Nic’s, he knew in his gut that Miriam wasn’t guilty. “There’s just no way she would be involved in corporate espionage. Not to mention that she’d be labeled a traitor to this country.”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Nic said. “Plug it in and see what’s on it.”

  Miriam was his trusted ally and the dragon lady who kept everyone out of his hair when he needed time and space to work. She was a grandmother, for God’s sake. He grabbed the drive off the table and went to his computer workstation. It looked a bit like a command center with five monitors and several tower servers.

  He plugged it in and started flipping on monitors. Nic and Isobel were on either side of him, arms crossed, waiting. Files scrolled up the screen. There were five. Taking a deep breath, Ian opened the first one.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

  “It certainly looks bad,” Nic said quietly. “Maybe there’s another explanation.”

  “Like she wanted more money than we were giving?”

  Isobel sounded bitter, but Ian was firm. “There is another explanation; we just don’t know what it is yet. There has to be.”

  “If she’s not out to kill your company, then it’s likely she was being used or threatened by someone who is. Or at least someone who wants those plans bad enough to scare a woman who by all accounts is a straight arrow.”

  Ian nodded. “It must have happened during this last week. That’s when she started jumping at shadows.”

  Isobel didn’t look convinced. His sister was a hard sell, and her frown made her look fierce. “That is evidence that she stole the plans.”

  “What if she was being blackmailed?”

  “Then she should have come to us, Ian. Not taken our property.”

  “Hey, guys—"

  “I just won’t believe that she’d deliberately betray us this way,” Ian said. His sister had moved closer, and with hands on her hips, she faced off with him. She was irritating when she wouldn’t see reason. At least Nic seemed impartial.

  The tug on his arm broke the hairy eyeball battle with his sister. “What?”

  “The schematics are incomplete,” Nic said, letting go of his arm and pointing at the monitor in the middle. “Right here. The component that makes the whole thing operational is missing. From what you showed me already, this was one of the first problems you worked out. If she sold you out, it should be there.”

  “But it’s not,” he said. Scanning the screens, he noticed that Nic had opened every file while he’d bickered with his sister.

  “That doesn’t prove anything other than she could be holding out to get more money,” Isobel said. She clenched her fists as she crossed her arms. The scowl on her face plainly said that Miriam was guilty until proven innocent.

  Ian threw his arm around her shoulders. “We’ll figure this out. And—if—Miriam was involved, then I will personally nail her ass to the wall with the evidence. If she’s innocent and being blackmailed, then she needs to be protected.”

  Isobel nodded. “Do I hang onto the mechanic’s report or take it to the police?”

  Ian didn’t hesitate. “We hang onto it for a little while longer. I want to learn more before we go to the police.”

  “I can make some phone calls,” Nic said. “My company has resources that we can use. And I can talk to Cody. He’ll stay quiet about it until we decide what to do.”

  “I don’t want him involved,” Ian said.

  Nic raised an eyebrow at the gruff tone. “The police or him specifically?”

  She had him there. He couldn’t very well tell her to stay away from the playboy-surfer-chief of police. Not without sounding like a jealous ass. “I just don’t want the police involved yet. Whoever Miriam was delivering this drive to doesn’t have what he wants, so he’s going to try something else. I don’t want the cops scaring him off. I want to know who I’m up against.”

  “Someone else could get hurt, Ian,” Nic said. “Are you willing to take that chance?”

  “I am,” Isobel said. “Ian’s right. We need to know what we’re up against. I’ll call a meeting with the rest of the employees and warn them of a security breach.”

  “I agree. I’ll cancel the meeting I have with the admiral on Monday. The meeting with the joint chiefs isn’t scheduled until next Friday, and I have one or two more tweaks to make before the schematics are completed. That’s going to take some time, and I don’t want police mucking around the office, interfering with my people or me.”

  Nic didn’t look convinced. “This isn’t a good idea. Staying quiet about something this serious will get someone hurt, or dead.”

  “Whoever this person is, they know who has access to the plans; otherwise, they would have tried to grab someone else. A lower-level employee would have made an easier target. The only danger I can see is to myself, Izzy, and Evan. Miriam is surrounded by hospital workers, and I can make sure one of the security staff is with her until she recovers,” Ian said.

  “Evan was going to leave tomorrow for the beach house, so he’ll be out of the way,” Isobel said.

  “Then, you should move in with Ian so that I can protect you both,” Nic said.

  They both shook their heads. “Absolutely not,” Isobel said. “We’d kill each other in a day. I only stay here occasionally and usually only because our parents are in town and like to have an early breakfast with the family.”

  “Then I’ll contact Kei and arrange for a bodyguard for you. Unless you’d like to get out of town as well?”

  “I’ll take the bodyguard.” She looked at Ian. “We’re all expected at the beach house on Tuesday.”

  Ian nodded. “We’ll be there. I’ll take the helicopter up.”

  “I need to make some calls. Isobel, please stay here until I have someone in place.”

  Nic turned and left him alone with his sister, and he watched her as she left the room. When he looked back at his sister, she arched an eyebrow in question. He didn’t have answers to the unspoken questions, so he turned b
ack to the files open on the screens and hoped she’d take the hint. For once, she did.

  “I’ll be in the dining room if you need me. I have emails to send and security to set up for the hospital.”

  “Alright, Izzy.”

  She put her hand on his arm, and when he looked at her, there was sympathy in her eyes. “I really do hope Miriam is innocent.” Then she walked out of his room.

  Ian was beginning to think Isobel might be right about all those threats. He still didn’t think he was personally in danger, but it was looking like his company might be. If it got out that his plans were stolen and sold overseas on the black market, his reputation and company would be ruined. No one would work with him.

  Sitting down, he logged into his privately linked server. The next logical move would be to hack into the system. Ian started laying traps and re-directs before inserting more security surrounding the plans. He could have been a hacker, and he dabbled a bit in college, but he wasn’t dark enough to really enjoy it. Setting alarms internally, he started writing a program that sent an alarm to his phone if someone made it that far into his server.

  He immersed himself in work and tried not to imagine Nic in a bikini on the beach, because, of course, she was coming with him. Ian wondered how she’d fare with his parents. He was the baby, and so far, they hadn’t liked anyone he brought home. Not that he’d brought many around and certainly not in years.

  Chapter 8

  “Why can’t you just do something normal, like dealing drugs?” Carla Pacheco asked. “Everyone else does it; why can’t you?”

  “I got something big going on, woman,” Nestor said as he slammed out of the little apartment. “Stop being such a bitch.” He said it quietly and didn’t like that he was a little afraid of Carla when she was pissed. Last time, she threw a bottle at his head, and he needed stitches. It was a good thing that her kids lived with her mother; they didn’t need to see their mom acting that way.

  He took his cousin’s van again and headed across the Bay Bridge from Oakland into San Francisco. Another call from his employer confirmed that the deal was still on, but he had to grab the guy now and force him to give Nestor the plans. That was fine with him; he was pissed off, and his cousin wasn’t letting him have any more weed until Nestor could pay for it. Shit, maybe Carla was right. He could deal on the corner, make some money, and have access to the stash.

  But that was small-time, and this deal was worth ten grand—more money than Nestor had ever seen. That kind of money would make Carla love him again. Maybe be nice to him more often when he didn’t get work.

  It was almost midnight, and most of the streets were quiet on snob hill. Those rich fuckers didn’t like loud anything in their precious neighborhood, and everyone went to bed at like eight. So, he shouldn’t have any problems getting into the house and making the guy do what Nestor wanted.

  He found the address and whistled low in appreciation. Nice pad. Carla would flip out if he could afford someplace like this. Driving to the next street, he circled the place, looking at it from every angle he could find. Parking on the street behind the house, he waited for a few minutes until he could hear the sounds of the neighborhood. Nestor had a large switchblade knife in his pocket, and, reaching under the seat, he grabbed the gun he’d stashed there before he left. Tucking the weapon into his waist at the small of his back, Nestor also grabbed the crowbar. Getting into the house was going to be the real trick because there was bound to be an alarm.

  Sneaking through the alley, he found the backyard. At thirty-three, he was still able to hop fences, but not like he used to. His foot caught and tangled in some vines, momentarily leaving him suspended upside down with his head and shoulders barely touching the ground. He lost his grip on the crowbar, and the gun slipped out and hit him on the head before falling onto the grass.

  “Fuck,” he said, looking around to see if any lights came on. Untangling his foot, he righted himself and crouched in the shadows of the shrubs. Putting his gun back and gathering up the crowbar, he shook his head—stupid, stupid, stupid. He needed to find the power box. Most alarms simply didn’t function if they didn’t have power. He just hoped this house didn’t have one of the more sophisticated alarms that triggered the alarm when the power was cut.

  Finding the box, he used the switchblade to cut the power. The a/c unit that hummed next to him slowly stopped, but nothing else happened. The lights were already all off in the house, and no sound erupted. Good news.

  Now, to get inside and take care of business. He could almost feel that ten grand in his hands. Easy money.

  * * *

  Nic prowled the house. She was uneasy, but not sure why. Ian was in his room, and Isobel had returned to her home with Lindsay stationed outside, watching to make sure nothing suspicious happened. Kei didn’t want Lindsay in full bodyguard capacity yet, so she was on lookout duty until one of their other agents could be reassigned. It was looking like a couple of days, according to Kei, so Lindsay would sleep when Isobel was working and then take the night shift.

  Nic finally settled onto the plush couch in the sitting room. Her night vision was excellent, and she didn’t bother with the lights, having familiarized herself with the house. Crossing her legs, yoga style, she closed her eyes and attempted to clear her mind. She knew what was bothering her, and she needed to pull it out and examine it before putting it into perspective.

  That problem was her client—her sexy nerd of a client, who looked more like Superman than Steve Jobs. She really was expecting a classical nerd, not a mouth-watering hottie who made her want to lick him all over. She took a deep, cleansing breath; she tried to seek clarity. Ian needed to be relegated firmly into the “job” category and pulled out of the “potential lover” category. Her mind agreed, but her body had other ideas.

  While she argued with herself, her ingrained alert system sounded. Nic’s eyes popped open. Something wasn’t right. It took a moment, but it was the lack of white noise that made her stop and take notice. The a/c had stopped. The low hum from the refrigerator in the next room was gone. The power was out. And there was no storm and no quake.

  Unfolding her legs from the couch, Nic cursed her bare feet. They were excellent for stealth, but she’d have preferred tennis shoes or boots if someone was trying to break into the home. And with the hair standing straight up on her neck, that’s what she thought was happening. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of glass breaking. It was muffled a bit, so someone was using cloth or something to make the noise quieter.

  No time to get to her gun. Nic was all about the offensive strike. Defense was a last resort, and with Ian all the way up on the fourth floor, she decided he was safe enough. She moved toward the sound, keeping to the shadows and avoiding the windows. The noise had come from the back of the house, toward the postage-stamp-sized backyard.

  With her back to the wall, she eased closer. A quick peek showed a shadowed form and an arm reaching through the broken pane of glass in the door to unlock it. That look also showed her the glass on the floor. She’d cut her feet to ribbons if she confronted him there. Backing away, she retraced her steps and made her way to the kitchen. Not wanting to open drawers to look for knives, Nic settled for the cooking magazine lying on the table.

  Rolling it up, she stayed where she was, listening intently. A rustle of clothing and a quiet crash let her know that he was in the front room. And he seemed to be alone. Good for her, bad for him. Gliding back toward the room, she waited until he passed by and headed to the stairs. The fool hadn’t even checked the kitchen, just assumed everyone was asleep upstairs.

  He had a crowbar in one hand and a gun in the other. Nic waited until he had one foot on the bottom stair. She wanted him off balance. Coming up from behind, she kicked his left leg with her right as hard as she could, just as his right leg had lifted. Bouncing away, she ignored the pain stinging the top of her foot as the man crashed to the ground.

  He wasn’t too big, standing at about five feet
ten and maybe one hundred seventy pounds. He hit the ground with a yelp and a thud, but Nic had spun away to avoid any flailing arms or that crowbar.

  “What the fuck?” he grumbled as he got back to his feet. That left knee was hurting, though, because he favored his right. Looking around wildly, he spotted where she was. “Just give me those plans, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

  He thought she was Ian. In the shadows, she could absolutely be mistaken for a man. She kept her mouth shut. He moved forward with his gun raised, but Nic moved as well. Toward him. She chopped the rolled magazine down on his wrist, then twisted her body and crunched the back of her elbow hard against the side of his face, while bringing the magazine down and into his tender groin. The sound of his jaw clacking together with the groan of pain and the gun hitting the floor was like a deafening roar in the otherwise silent house. The air rushed out of him just as the beam of light hit him from the back.

  “Nic, get back,” Ian said.

  Shit, he wasn’t supposed to wake up. Now she had to worry about him getting hurt. “Stay on the stairs, Ian.”

  “Oh, hell, no,” he growled.

  With a yell of rage, the man charged her again, crowbar raised. Nic easily knocked the arm holding the bar to the side, and using his momentum against him, knocked him to the side and into the wall. The man turned, but Ian had the light in his eyes, blinding him, and Nic used that moment to kick him in the left knee again. He buckled but didn’t go all the way down.

  Rage and adrenaline were the only things keeping him on his feet as he decided to run. Nic had gotten a brief glimpse of his face. Hispanic, mid-thirties, unshaven, and smelled like marijuana and body odor. She started to follow, but an iron band wrapped itself around her waist and pulled her up short—against a very bare, very muscular chest.

  “I can catch him, Ian.”