Guarding Him

by Kori David

  “He threatened me with a knife,” she said. The sarcasm dripping from her tongue was at odds with the innocent look she projected.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” he yelled.

  Kei shrugged. “Arrest me?”

  “You, serving jail time over this piece of shit—?” He paced more and started using an impressive amount of filthy words strung together in inventive ways. She was unwillingly impressed, given the gravity of the situation.

  She dropped the innocent face and kept her voice matter-of-fact. “I have gloves on, this is an untraceable .38, and I made sure to use a filet knife.”

  Drake swung around to face her, the body between them. Kei was sure he stayed on his side to avoid the urge to hit her. His fists clenched and his body thrummed with tension. He was a man on the edge of violence and denied his chance to take it out on the real target. She waited to see what he would say because she knew she didn’t have to spell it out for him.

  “I’m supposed to be fucking overjoyed that you came prepared for a frame?”

  “If you aren’t going to arrest me for murder, and since I know damn well you left your team behind, then yes, the frame would work. I just made it easier for you.”

  “I should arrest you.”

  Kei nodded. “I’m a danger to society.”

  Drake took a step toward her, shook his head, and stopped. “These two were obviously brothers, but killers turn on each other all the time.”

  Kei didn’t interrupt, just let him go through the scenario. The knife was next to the body where he’d dropped it. She’d take her own and disposed of it. There was no way to pinpoint the exact time of death, at least, not down to the minute. Less than five minutes had elapsed from the time the shots were fired above her in the warehouse and when she’d killed the man in front of her. It was completely plausible that this death could have occurred before the other one.

  It took approximately two minutes of silence, and then he nodded to himself. “Give me the gun.”

  Kei was ready for the request and handed it to him, butt first. Drake took it with a snow-white handkerchief. He was the only person she knew below the age of seventy that carried them. “How’s Nic?”

  “She’ll need some stitches for a sliced-up arm, but otherwise, they’re all good.”

  Kei nodded and began to turn away. “I’ll be at the office.”

  Drake stared at her, the muscle in his jaw jumping. Kei had no doubt that he’d love to yell at her, maybe even take that swing at her. But he wouldn’t. Drake Page was a throwback to a different age. He could be moved to extreme violence if needed but also had a chivalrous streak. The best thing that Kei could do at this point was to make herself scarce and leave the details to him.

  Her part of this story was done. Justice had been served on the men who’d taken Lindsay’s life. She knew that Nic had a theory about the “puppet master,” as she called him, and Courtney was helping with that. They would get him, sooner or later. The overwhelming need for vengeance, for her, was done. Her knife had tasted blood, and she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that those two men could never take another life. There was no remorse, no guilt in taking that life, only cold satisfaction that it was done. Lindsay could rest in peace, and so could Kei.

  * * *

  The hospital buzzed like a beehive hit with a rock as they arrived. Every officer that had responded for Cody was still present, along with reporters outside and the normal flow of weekend traumas. Isobel had been given a pair of scrubs upon arrival, since she was only in Cody’s shirt, and sat in the waiting room. Cody was still in surgery.

  Ian was torn again between the women in his life, and this time he chose to go with Nic. Nothing else could happen to Isobel, surrounded by cops the way she was. Most recognized her from various charity functions, and everyone knew that she’d been with their chief when he’d been shot. Cops were faster than a knitting circle when it came to gossip. They closed ranks around her as Ian slipped away with Nic.

  Ian held her hand as she was patched up by a surgical intern. They were in a small space curtained off, cries of the other wounded and the strong smell of antiseptic in the air. The intern was competent and solicitous, but it was obvious that Nic wasn’t going to break down into tears, so the woman shrugged and got to work. Once the stitches were in, Nic’s arm was treated with an antibiotic and wrapped. The intern left, saying she would come back with instructions on how to clean it and discharge paperwork.

  They were finally alone.

  “Thanks for holding my hand. Stitches always suck,” Nic said with a smile.

  “I have no doubt that you could have endured without me, but I don’t think I could have endured not being with you.” He heaved a thick sigh. “Nic—"

  She held a finger up to his lips, stopping the words that needed to be said. Those words were like wild animals trying to rip their way out of him. Why she stopped him made him uncertain. This was the second time she’d done this, and he was beginning to wonder if she didn’t want the words. She had to know what he felt, but she was an enigma. He knew she wanted him, but could she love him?

  “I want to tell you something first,” she said, removing her finger. “I need to tell you a couple of things, actually.” Nic’s violet eyes bored into his, and he swore she could see into his soul. “I messed up in my last job by loving my client.” Shaking her head, she dropped her eyes and picked at the hem of her tiny skirt.

  “But, it’s not what I led you to believe.”

  Ian couldn’t not touch this woman before him, so he leaned close and rubbed her back, feeling the tension begin to leave her shoulders. He waited for her to continue, knowing that whatever she said wasn’t going to change his feelings for her.

  “My client’s name was Thomas David Nelson III, but I called him Tommy.”

  The name clicked immediately for Ian. “That was the little boy who was kidnapped last year by his father.” He remembered the story from the news. The child was in the middle of a bitter custody battle, and the father had been accused of trying to harm the child. The mother was a high-profile judge in San Diego, at least he thought that was the story.

  Nic nodded, and her eyes glowed. “Tommy was the sweetest little boy, and I was a goner from the moment I met him.” She smiled to herself, looking inward at what only she could see. “It really was love at first sight, and that was the moment I lost my objectivity.”

  As Ian waited for her story to unfold, hope surged through him. He would do whatever it took to make this woman his. His to love, and cherish, and make happy for the rest of their lives. And she was giving him that chance, whether she realized it or not. The love she had for the child wasn’t something he’d have to fight or overcome; that was the pure love of a mother, not the carnal love of a man to a woman. Inside, he was amazed at the joy he felt.

  “What happened?”

  “I never even considered that Tommy’s mother would hate his very existence.” Nic looked up at him, her eyes shining, “I mean, how could she not love her son?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “She set up a frame that was quite clever. Her poor husband almost believed he was as bad as she made him out to be.” Nic shook her head. “I didn’t see it until it was almost too late. She’d planned to kill them both and make it look like he’d kidnapped Tommy. She had ransom money out and ready to go into an untraceable offshore account. I knew something was off with her, but I didn’t see it right away because my focus was always on Tommy. She knew how to blend in, how to hide the fact that she had no emotions other than jealousy, greed, and hate. She’d made a career and a name for herself as a tough judge, so no one thought it was odd that she was a distant woman. But I saw it, just once. I came into Tommy’s room and saw the look on her face. The loathing.”

  Nic reached up with her good arm and rubbed her shoulder. Ian knew it was the place she’d been shot. “What happened? I remember a couple of headlines about the kidnapping plot being foiled, but no
thing big comes to mind. Certainly, nothing about a bodyguard or a shooting.”

  “The Honorable Judge Tabitha Nelson shot me on the spot. I think the strain of keeping up appearances was too much. She never wanted a child but knew it would get her where she wanted to go if she was viewed as a hardworking mother and judge. She also never wanted marriage, but again, it fit the image she needed to advance her career.” Nic winced as she adjusted her position on the bed. “She used to hit her husband. And the things she’d say to him,” Nic frowned, “scathing is the only word that fits.”

  “How was none of that in the press?” he asked.

  “After I took that damn gun away, I called Kei. She is a woman of mysterious connections.” Nic looked up at him and smiled, the twinkle in her eyes snaring him. He leaned down and captured that smile with his lips, unable to resist. Nic sighed and leaned into him. “If you keep doing that, I’ll never finish this.”

  Ian leaned back, giving her a fraction of space. “Sorry,” he said with a grin. They both knew he wasn’t.

  “Through Kei’s connections, the judge was put into a psych hospital with a federal prison hold. No one wanted the publicity of a federal judge being arrested for shooting me and trying to frame her husband. Every single court case she’d tried over the past ten years would be re-examined and potentially overturned. She might have been a shitty mother and wife, but her verdicts were sound. She was completely dispassionate about her decisions. Not having any higher emotions made her a good judge.”

  Nic bit her lip and threw him an apologetic look. “She was a complete sociopath, and every single red flag that I overlooked is what got me shot. Ian,” she stopped and squeezed his hand, “your brother has all of the same red flags.”

  Ian’s heart thudded dully in his chest as he thought of all the times Evan had done things that gave him pause. All the petty torments that he handed out to both Ian and Izzy when they were kids. The way he was with his women, even though none of them ever said a thing. He was a brilliant marketing manager, and Ian had been thrilled that he’d wanted to work at Jamison Electronics, thinking that he’d finally accepted Ian in his circle. While Ian had never looked up to Evan, exactly, he had admired his skills. And who didn’t want their older brother to love them?

  “He’s the only one to gain if you were dead, Ian.”

  “Izzy would still be there, and she has a bigger share in the company.” Even as he argued, he knew Nic was right. How long before Izzy had some kind of “accident” and Evan gained one-hundred percent control of the company?

  “I also want you to know that I will not quit my job for you.”

  Ian found a smile at the words and the semi-belligerent tone. “I would never ask you to.”

  Nic arched an eyebrow. “So, you’d have no problem with me taking another assignment and pretending to be another man’s mistress? Possibly in a different part of the country for an extended period of time?”

  Ian hadn’t thought of that, and his muscles tightened in a fight response as he thought of Nic in another man’s house, posing as his mistress. Instincts older than this modern age smoldered, and he wanted to beat the faceless man to death for even thinking about his woman in that way. An amused chuckle roused him from the black cloud of death he’d sunk into, and he came back to himself in time to see the animated face of the evil redhead watching him.

  His jaw clenched. “I’d have no problem with that.” The words spit out of his mouth rapidly before he could call them back. He wasn’t okay with it, and they both knew it, but he needed Nic in his life, no matter what her terms were. And that was the key. Ian would take her in any way she’d allow it, with whatever conditions she had. He shook off the caveman instincts and relaxed his shoulders. It really was as simple as that. He loved her enough to let her be free to do what she needed.

  “Yes,” he said softly, reaching up to touch her face, “I’d be okay with it even if it means pacing the floors and being worried about your safety. I would never try to force you to be something you aren’t.”

  “You really do love me, don’t you?”

  Leave it to this woman to just flat out say it. No searching looks, no coy games to get him to admit to feelings he had, just a question that was more a statement of fact.

  “Yes, I really do.”

  She crooked the index finger of her good arm and beckoned him closer. Then she kissed him, hugging him close and letting her tongue move against his. He would have cheerfully crawled up onto the little hospital bed with her and made love to her when she pulled back slightly. “I love you, Ian Jamison.”

  The words hit him right in the heart. He never thought he’d be someone who needed to hear the words or be in a situation to need them desperately. But hearing them, so straightforward and unashamed from her gorgeous mouth, made life worth living.

  “I love you so damn much, Nicolette Barrington-Montgomery. Marry me. Be mine. Have my babies.”

  “Okay,” she whispered before pulling him close again and sealing her lips to his.

  Chapter 23

  “I want Drake with us when we get there,” Nic said. Dawn was breaking as they left the hospital. Cody was out of surgery and expected to make a slow but full recovery. He’d been damned lucky, and once Isobel had stopped crying, she was out for blood. The streets were quiet as they drove toward Evan’s house.

  “All these years,” Izzy said. “We’ve always known Evan was different, but who wants to admit that someone in your family could do this?”

  Nic shook her head. “It’s not your fault. I would imagine that he started hiding his true personality a long time ago. My guess is that your parents came close to having him admitted for a psych evaluation or put on medication when you two were younger. They would have noticed how he was with you. And when that stopped, they thought he’d grown out of it.”

  Izzy’s eyes had grown round. “I remember our mother crying a lot, and Evan was always in trouble.”

  “Then, it did stop,” Ian finished. “Just like you said. He acted like we didn’t exist any longer, and then he was off to boarding school. I always wondered why he went away to school, but it was just so nice with him gone. We didn’t have to hide or lock our doors at night. He’d come around for holidays, but it wasn’t until Izzy and I were much older that we had much contact with him.”

  Nic could hear them piecing together their lives, transposing sociopathic traits over Evan’s behavior as they remembered it. The big FBI agent was behind them in his own car as they wound their way through the streets. Nic wasn’t sure what was likely to happen when they got there, but Courtney had pinged Evan’s cell phone. It was on and in his home.

  Whatever happened, she would be there for the Jamisons. Quite honestly, she loved them both. If ever she’d imagined having a normal sister, one that wasn’t Stepford-wife-ish like her own sibling, it would have been someone as vibrant and sassy as Isobel. And, as much as she had tried to avoid it, she’d fallen for Ian. It went against every rule she abided by, falling for her client, but he’d won her over—in a ridiculously short amount of time. His mind, his stuffiness that gradually gave way to a sense of humor, his body—he was the whole package. Speaking of package, she had to look out the window to avoid looking there. Ian was everything she could have wanted in a husband, had she known she wanted one.

  Ian rolled to a stop in front of one of the “Painted Ladies” on Steiner Street. It was a Victorian-style row house. Sitting at the end of the row and painted a muted yellow with bright white trim, it looked like the house of a grandmother, not a sociopathic marketing director. Ian, Nic, and Izzy all got out of the car. Drake joined them at the front sidewalk.

  “Seriously?” Drake asked, making vague gestures that encompassed the home.

  “He said he liked the history,” Isobel said. Still in scrubs, she hadn’t wanted to waste time to go home.

  “I guess I just never thought about it,” Ian said. “Evan was always a bit weird, and this didn’t seem overly odd, in co
mparison.”

  “That he’d want to be in a historic area with nothing but families?” The ironic tone wasn’t lost on either Ian or Isobel, but Drake moved on. “I’m betting not a single neighbor can even give a good description of your brother. Men like him don’t mix and mingle with the neighbors.”

  “No, they pull the strings on internet assassins and yet still make it to board meetings.” Venom dripped from Isobel’s tone.

  Ian shrugged, “Let’s get this over with.”

  “We don’t have a warrant, and there is no evidence against him,” Drake said. “Other than a confession in front of a Federal Agent, we have exactly jack-shit.”

  “I need to look at his face,” Ian said. “Izzy and I will know. We all know that getting a conviction on him is going to be nearly impossible. All you have is circumstantial evidence and our gut feelings.”

  “We need to know,” Isobel echoed.

  “Are any of you armed?” Drake asked.

  “No,” Nic said. “That’s why you’re here, Drake. If something goes wrong, it’s up to you to put him down.” She saw Izzy flinch and Ian’s shoulders tense, but neither of them said a word against the possibility. She took a deep breath and nodded at Drake. “Let’s get this done.”

  * * *

  Ian reached the door first. The porch lights still blazed, cutting through the fog creeping in from the bay. He gave a quick twist, and the door swung open. Drake went inside with his gun drawn, but down by his side. Ushering the women inside, Ian closed the door behind them. Evan was inside somewhere; he could feel it.

  There was a small burst of quiet static, and then Evan’s voice filled the room. “I’m in my office on the second floor. The agent doesn’t need his weapon out. I can assure you that I am not armed.”

  Ian noticed the intercom mounted on the wall near the stairs, just inside the front door. He saw that Nic looked around and spotted the camera the same time he did. Ian stepped closer to the wall and pressed the button. “Why don’t you just come down, Evan?”