“Agent Dreyer?” She palmed the card and relaxed back onto the bed. “Why all the caution?”
Now that he could answer, just not to her. A gut instinct? A precaution? Something that hadn’t sat well since she’d been hit, at the least. He knew someone had been watching the entire time they’d been putting on Drama Downtown for the crowd. Whether it was the next connection, the buyer, or the hand off to the courier he’d caught, he couldn’t say. And that uncertainty had every warning bell going off. With an internal smack, he knew why he’d been set on checking on her. He needed to make contact with her. Meet her. Know her. She was going to need his protection.
He never questioned those primal instincts either. This time, he was pretty sure he was going to enjoy his watch.
“Nothing too serious,” he replied, smoothing the little white lie. “Just following through on details.”
“Well, thank you then,” she replied.
He left her room feeling the light breathy sound of her goodbye on his skin for the rest of the day.
CHAPTER TWO
Stacee dropped the shopping bags and her purse on the counter as soon as she was in her house. Then the first thing she did was hunt for the scissors in the kitchen drawer. She cut the information band off of her wrist with a sense of freedom, then tossed it in the trash. She hated hospitals. She’d spent enough time in them when her father passed away. She didn’t need the reminders. At least she was able to convince them it was their constant poking making her do the blood pressure mambo. There was no telling how long they would’ve wanted her to stay otherwise.
She leaned over to stretch and immediately regretted it when she went woozy trying to stand straight again. She just needed to eat. It was late, well past eight now after her little sojourn to the hospital for head x-rays. At least the next day was Sunday. A full day to regroup before work on Monday, and to lose the bandage. She didn’t need that at the office.
Scrounging through the fridge, she thought back over the crazy day she’d spent. Her back was stiff from being pummeled by a locomotive in the form of a full speed male. Setting the salad bits on the counter next to her, she began to make something light for dinner. She’d regret anything heavier at that hour. Especially since there was a new headache oozing to sit between her ears. She just didn’t have it in her to cook over a stove.
She’d been surprised by the agent’s concern, silently warmed by it in fact. Agent Dreyer was not a slouch by any means. He had to be close to six foot, and had the cutest dimple in his cheek when he was trying to hold his smile in check. She wondered what it would be like if he let it loose on the unsuspecting feminine world. He had assessing eyes that warmed and froze at intervals. The man had a natural poker face, but she’d seen him relax a time or two while they’d talked. Almost as if he had to remind himself to keep the cool façade while they’d talked. Working in the volatile real estate market for the last ten years had given her quite the insight to human nature and expression, and Jonas Dreyer was a work of art to study. In constant flux. In constant thought. She wondered what kind of thoughts went through that mind of his to make those expressions. She was willing to bet he was a hell of a conversationalist.
She palmed two ibuprofens to take for the impending headache with her salad and a tall tea, and settled at the table to eat. Once she slowed down, it didn’t take long for fatigue from her day to crawl in and get comfy with her body, probably the aftereffects of the collision combined with the ache in her brain. She’d be the last to argue with it.
With a sigh, she decided to call Kay in the morning. Right now, a hot shower and the rest of her tea was about all she wanted.
* * * *
The beginning of her week went by rather uneventfully, making meetings, showing houses and going over contracts. It was almost normal enough to make her forget about the bruise on her forehead except for the occasional, almost tactful, worried comment. There was very little she could do to hide the mark in her hairline. Just had to wait for it to fade enough to not be a center of attention.
It was Thursday before she began to suspect something wasn’t right on her street. The Neville’s, her neighbors several houses down on the opposite side, had a well maintained Cadillac that they kept in the garage, but for three days she’d seen a car sitting right in front of Mr. Neville’s pride and joy, their pristine yard. Same car. Same spot. Same time. Same bat channel she mused, lowering her eyes to study it as she strode to her own car in front of the garage. Not that she was knocking Mr. Neville’s enjoyment in his yard, but his entire retirement now was his riding lawnmower. Looking at the sleek model, she knew his oldest son who lived in town did not drive that kind of car.
Was it a visiting friend? She doubted it. The elderly couple’s full stretch of friends were limited to the senior center variety. Not to mention that the car was there at seven-thirty every morning. That car looked way too fast and too new for their generation. Especially in her neighborhood, where being over fifty was more the norm than the oddity.
She’d loved the house she owned when it had come onto the market. The neighborhood had been well established and stable. The house had needed very little in repairs, which worked well for her. She could wield a mean hammer and miss her thumb while she was at it, but more than that and she’d be walking the yellow pages for a handyman. There was also stability. Namely, the incoming buyers, when there were, weren’t interested in redeveloping the lots, so the market and the neighborhood were safe. It wasn’t unusual for new home builders to come in and tear down older homes, rebuild and mess up the entire neighborhood by raising land values and taxes and causing headaches on a palatial scale. Stacee would take safety over new and sparkly any day.
She slid behind the leather strapped steering wheel, the auto seat adjusting as she settled in, trying to get a better look at the strange car without being too blatant about it. Was that a person behind the wheel? As far away as the car was, it was just too hard to be positive. The idea that someone was in the car at that hour of the morning, someone she didn’t know, possibly watching her gave her a chill, making the hair on her arms rise uncomfortably.
Her father had taught her to always be aware of her surroundings, to take a mental picture if she could. Grab enough detail to make a short list of facts if asked. She did that as she pulled away from her house, in the opposite direction from the parked car. Safe driving habits and attention to those details paid off when she looked up to check her rearview and spotted the dark car. She frowned. Had she been followed all week? Was the car, and the driver, following her? It seemed far too likely as the vehicle kept an even pace with her.
She took an unplanned exit ahead of schedule.
“Damn,” she muttered when the car not only followed her, but kept an exact distance from her, even through several stop lights. The only reason she suspected she was being followed was because it wasn’t all that rare for clients to follow her to a house to show. Except those instances were ones where she didn’t want to lose her tail.
This time, it felt imperative to her to lose this one. And fast.
She clicked a button on her console. “Office,” she stated firmly, paying attention to her driving. It would suck to run a red light now.
“Hales Prop—”
She cut off her secretary without an ounce of apology. “Rebecca, I won’t be in right away. Cancel my planner for the day and reschedule everything.”
“Stacee! What’s wrong? You sound completely stressed.”
She drew a breath to calm herself, not in the least surprised. She drove, thinking at the same time and praying doing both wouldn’t make her have an accident. Breathing seemed to help calm her. “I’m not sure,” she replied, not wanting to worry her secretary for nothing. She hoped it was nothing. She spotted a coffeehouse ahead and decided to make a detour. “I’ll call you when I get a chance.” Then she hung up.
Stacee made a beeline for the drive-thru, digging through her purse for Agent Dreyer’s card. She didn�
�t even hesitate when his face and voice appeared in her memory. Not that he was the kind of man she could forget. She was very glad of that fact, and that he’d left her a card.
She dialed with trembling fingers while making her order, glad for probably the first time ever how slow the coffee drive-thrus really were.
“Dreyer,” he answered on the second ring. The timbre of his voice was at once comforting.
“Agent Dreyer. Stacee Hales. I’m sorry to call out of the blue, but I think I’m being followed.”
“Where are you?”
No pandering. No condescension. Crisp and business-like in a heartbeat. His absolute calm fed into her. She wanted to believe in it and latched onto his voice like a lifeline. She felt her lungs relax for the first time since she’d spotted the car. She told him her location and where she was headed. Although she wasn’t going to her office now, she had no better solution.
“No. Don’t go to your office. Where can I meet you?”
Inspiration slapped her when she realized what street she had turned onto. “I have an open model on Avian.” And the keys were in her briefcase. She’d shown the house just the day before. It was only a few subdivisions away from where she was sitting. Minutes to get her to the house. And to him.
She repeated the address, and he told her he’d meet her there. Everything would be okay. By the time she got back on the street, she’d almost convinced herself she was overreacting and that she’d have to apologize for disturbing him by the time she saw him.
Stacee took her time driving in an unhurried way. She tried to drive like any other person, on any other morning. Not trying to run stale yellow lights as many drivers do. She lost her sense of ease when she spotted the dark car behind her without a problem. Even though she felt scared out of her mind, she didn’t want it to show. The coffee stop hadn’t deterred the other car in the least. “Just like I’m going to show the house,” she whispered. “Nothing to it. Just another day.”
Yeah, she’d believe that when she got through her morning.
* * * *
Jonas traded his coffee for his holster and jogged out to his Explorer Sport, sliding on his jacket on the way. He activated his GPS and found the exact house he needed. He was on the highway in less than three minutes. Time and traffic seemed to drag against him no matter how hard he cursed it.
The memory chip trail had gone cold, and now Stacee was calling him. Twice this week he’d almost called her to make sure she was still safe and sound. Stacee Hales had been like a constant buzz in his brain. A burr he couldn’t shake. Now he was glad he hadn’t. Something about this woman was connected to the chips. And he had to find them. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought she had something to do with their disappearance.
He’d had that niggle on his conscience since he’d met her. Something that appealed, and drew him to her. But right now, her safety was the only thing on his mind. He hadn’t had the freedom to dwell on the rest of it.
Jonas clutched at his phone when it rang.
“I’m trying to look nonchalant, but it would help a hell of a lot if you were here,” she told him, her voice gritty and forced.
“I’m almost there,” he replied, watching traffic fly past as he sped toward the house. He kept his own voice even to try to keep her calm. She wasn’t used to this kind of drama. He ate it for breakfast. “Tell me what the car looks like.”
“A dark blue foreign. Expensive. I can’t make a model from here. A Mercedes maybe. They’re more than a block away. They just turned around the corner.” Her voice was strong, surprisingly calm. She sounded more relieved when the car disappeared out of her sight. Her voice was doing funny things to his nerves too. He shook it off. He had to keep his focus.
“Stay in the car until I get there.”
“Like I was going to move?” She made a crude noise. It made him smile. She wasn’t scared. She seemed almost angry by the sound of things. He could forgive her that. It wasn’t everyday people were just out of the blue followed on their morning commute.
“I see you.”
He pulled up behind her, ending the phone call, and parked his truck. She got out, slipping out of the door like her legs were made for those red carpet style entrances. He felt his tongue push against his teeth, not to mention his cock as it woke up in appreciation. The ache was fast and hard. And he couldn’t look away.
The woman had legs to die for. That waist he’d seen in her jeans wasn’t bee sized either. It flowed into feminine rounded hips that swayed oh-so-gently when she walked in her heels. A striding sensuality that some women were born into. Stacee had gotten that gene in excess. He watched every single step she took with a growing desire to see more. He couldn’t even blink. He loved heels on a woman, and she walked like she was made for them, as though she owned the ground she walked on. A slow rolling saunter that made him swallow. Hard.
Her hair swayed in loose waves around her shoulders and face. The colors in the sunlight reminded him of chocolate covered cherries from Christmas. Those boxes of red that he saw in stores everywhere every year. Now he knew what they looked like on the inside.
“Hey,” she said in greeting, rolling a shoulder. She leaned closer as his window came down. “Thanks for taking the call. It’s probably nothing, but it freaked me out.”
He almost reached out and caressed her cheek to comfort her, but caught himself at the last second before indulging in the pleasure. He needed to see if her skin was as soft as it looked. He clenched his fist against his thigh instead. He was glad he was sitting down. He’d never be able to hide his arousal from her. Having her so close, her light perfume on the air between them, was making him throb like a horny teenager in the uncomfortable confines of his slacks.
He was surprised his voice worked on the first try. His tongue sure didn’t feel like his own. “You did the right thing. The guy who rammed you didn’t have the stolen property on him. I think the next link in the chain thinks you might have it somehow.” He’d actually been dreading this moment for that very reason, but couldn’t really hate it because it brought her back to him. Even he was man enough to admit he had wanted to see her again. It was actually all male thinking behind that want, but he’d do what was necessary first.
She shook her head, consternation and deep thought bringing her brows together. “Not likely. Unless it was part of the dirt I swallowed when I kissed pavement, I know nothing.”
His lips twitched, even in the seriousness of the moment. He noticed she still had a sizeable fading blue splotch in her hairline but makeup had covered it fairly well. “I bet that caused all kinds of questions at work,” he sympathized, nodding at the bruise.
She sniffed. “You don’t want to know. Let’s go inside. I feel exposed out here.”
He wasn’t about to argue.
She released the lock and promptly shut the door behind them. A sigh of relief was loud in the empty house as bolts clicked into place. She wasn’t taking any chances. “How long do you think they’ll sit there?”
“Probably all day.”
She groaned in answer, searching the ceiling probably looking for a quick miracle. “What am I going to do? I can’t have a following entourage in my day to day.”
He took her measure in a swift, calculated glance as she paced, peeking out a side window then dropping it to pace some more. He couldn’t lie to himself. What he saw, he really liked.
“I don’t think you’ll be a real target. The package that was supposed to be handed off between the first courier, my guy, and the collision with you is missing.” He flexed his fingers, annoyed with the events of that day even though he couldn’t have done it any other way. The package was missing. He just had to be the first to find it.
“So what? I’ll be a pretend target?” she asked tartly. She tilted her chin up, challenging him. All he could think of was how badly he wanted to kiss the path of skin beneath her ear.
He cleared his throat. Why couldn’t he think straight around this w
oman? “No. Not exactly.”
She crossed her arms beneath her chest and narrowed her beautiful speckled eyes to slits. The woman was a stunner. She’d stunned him at first glance, prone in a hospital bed and he still hadn’t recovered.
“Explain ‘not exactly’ to me Agent Dreyer,” she stated, a sheer chill in her words that made him want to stuff his hands into his pockets.
“Well,” he began, searching for the best way without divulging too much, but it was as far as he got.
Bullets shattered the window she stood next to and two more into a sparkled fall of deadly shards and ice-like glitter.
CHAPTER THREE
Stacee squealed, hit for the second time by the solid body of a guy like she was interviewing for the tackling dummy position of an entire football squad.
“This has got to stop,” she muttered, disregarding the fact that she was hiding in his shoulder, shaking. His hand and body cradled and covered her with his protective breadth as the last of the window fragments settled around the pair on the floor.
“Which part? The bullets or the drama?”
She chuckled into his shoulder. Damn, she liked his humor. “Getting laid out like a pancake. It’s hard on a girl’s body.”
He made a sound of admiration. He held her close, one palm wrapped around her head to protect her from falling glass, his other on her hip as he covered her entire body with his length. He flexed his hand on her hip and she couldn’t help but feel every single movement. Searing heat pressed against her possessively now that she had enough air in her lungs to feel his body. The hard wall of his chest covered her completely and she couldn’t help but notice just how solid that wall was against her. His weight pressed into her, forming against her. The tender sensation of his hand against her scalp belied the strength she felt everywhere else. A wild flutter hit her stomach and sank lower as her nerves reported back every little detail about his body against hers.
Watching Her Every Move Page 2
