by Dana Marton
He wanted her. She wanted him. Simple.
Except that it wasn’t.
SHE WAS NAKED in front of him, and completely vulnerable. Kayla wanted him to enfold her in his strength. She wanted him to make her forget everything for a few minutes. Even the fact that she was stupidly falling in love with him.
The thought took her breath away. He was surefire heartbreak. She didn’t care. No, that wasn’t true. She did care. She just didn’t seem to be able to help herself.
She took a step toward him.
But he took a step back. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’re upset.”
His rejection was like a slap in the face. She reeled. Her throat tightened. Her eyes burned all of a sudden.
How stupid she’d been. She’d thought all he wanted her for was a brief affair. But he didn’t even want her for that.
Her towel was on the floor, but she gathered the last shreds of her dignity around her. “Could you please leave my room?”
She was careful not to let a single tear drop as she watched his retreating back. Not until her bedroom door closed with a click behind him did she allow her tears to flow again.
She loved him, and he wanted nothing to do with her.
Truth was sometimes the hardest thing to accept.
Her mother had said that someday Kayla would meet a man she’d know with her heart and she would fall in love. Her mother’s advice said nothing about what Kayla should do if that man didn’t love her back.
She dried her tears first, then her hair. She’d taken so many losses over the last couple of years, she would deal with this, too, somehow. She dressed carefully, slowly, taking as much time as she needed. She didn’t come out of the bedroom until she was sure she could face Nash.
She planted her feet firmly on the floor, drew herself straight. “This is not working,” she told him. “It’s just—” she closed her eyes for a second “—weird.” She looked away, then forced herself to meet his gaze again as she said, “After the funeral, I’m going to request another man from the agency. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I really do. Mo and Joey can stay, but I’d like you to leave.”
“Like hell,” Nash said, springing to his feet.
“We’re a distraction to each other.” He had to admit at least that much.
“I’m not leaving as long as you’re in danger.”
“I have money. Lots of it. There’ll always be people who want it. I could be in danger for the rest of my life.”
“That’s the duration of my assignment, then,” he said without hesitation.
Her heart gave a painful thud. The thought of a lifetime spent with Nash stole her breath for a second. Except that it wouldn’t be a life with him the way she would want it. He would never let down his guard. He would always stay out of reach.
Maybe he still thought her empty-headed fluff, not woman enough to tempt him.
“We’d end up hurting each other. You’d hurt me,” she confessed.
His gaze burned with intensity. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
“You already have,” she quietly told him.
Her words stood in the air between them.
“I’m trying to do the right thing here. And it’s killing me. Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he said after a moment.
“I can’t live like this.” She blinked furiously, not wanting to cry in front of him.
He swore softly under his breath. “And I’m not sure I can live without you.” He crossed the distance between them. “I should never have touched you. I definitely shouldn’t do it again.” He pulled her to him slowly, giving her time to move away.
She didn’t.
“I should never have kissed you,” he murmured as he lowered his lips to hers.
By the time he was done kissing her, she was dizzy from the heat between them.
“I’ve broken every rule of conduct,” he said ruefully as he put his hands under her buttocks and lifted her up, backed her up against the media console.
She wrapped her legs around his waist. Her skirt slid up to the top of her thighs from the movement. She wasn’t wearing pantyhose.
He worked the buttons of her shirt with a deft hand until it hung open, revealing her black lace bra. Gave a growling sound deep in his throat as he went after that.
When her breasts were free, he took his mouth to them, freeing his hand for her matching panties. Pleasure spiraled through her. He was intent and flushed with desire, focused on her, strong and male and completely absorbed in her body.
Then his pants were open and a condom appeared from the direction of his back pocket. He kissed her again. Then pushed deep inside her just as she began to melt.
THE SEX had been mind-blowing.
The guilt was staggering.
Too bad the sudden release of sexual tension hadn’t resolved anything between them.
The mood in the car on the way to the cemetery couldn’t have been more awkward. Thank God it was over.
He was her bodyguard for heaven’s sake. He wasn’t supposed to take her against the wall like a rutting animal. For the second time. Not that the first had been more civilized.
He should have given her time, seduced her slowly.
But all that talk about her letting him go had sent Nash over the edge.
“We must remember him as the man he was. He isn’t gone. We just can’t see him. But he is smiling down at his family from heaven.” The priest paused then started praying.
Nash’s attention wasn’t on him. He was scanning the crowd as he had been since they’d gotten here. He could pick out the plainclothes cops, knew most of the others from Kayla’s introductions at the beginning. Of course, Elvis, Ivan and Fisk were there in a protective circle around her and Greg. Tom, too. And her secretary. Al Landon’s housekeeper sobbed in the back.
Not one suspicious person who didn’t look like he belonged here, no one who didn’t appear genuinely grief-stricken.
Nash hummed with frustration. Half the clues he had were erratic. The other half made no sense. He was either facing a criminal mastermind or someone who had no idea what he was doing. But if he showed up today…
There had to be over two hundred people in the sprawling cemetery. Al Landon had been well-loved in life and was widely mourned in death.
Nash moved his gaze to the very edge of the crowd, determined to examine each face one more time as the people broke into a hymn. Frustration warred with disappointment. He had pitifully few clues, and what he had was more than confusing. He’d hoped he would gain some insight here, but that didn’t seem likely. The funeral was almost over.
Then a second cousin bent to pick up a small child and Nash spotted a hunched man behind her. A familiar shape.
The man from the park the other night.
He cleared his throat.
Joey looked at him.
“At two o’clock,” Nash said under his breath. “You take them home. I’m going to check this guy out.”
Easier said than done. The hymn ended and everyone moved toward Kayla and Greg to offer their condolences.
No time to talk to the plainclothes officers who stood at the other end. Nash pushed through the crowd. The man must have caught sight of Nash because he was edging away.
Nash pushed harder, eliciting some comments about rudeness. He didn’t care.
The guy had a good head start, got to his car first. But Nash drove down a walking path and caught up with him by the time they made it to the cemetery’s ten-foot-tall cast-iron gate.
Once an affluent area, Queensland Avenue had since fallen into disrepair, the once-splendid mansions cut up into duplexes with a warren of narrow connecting roads between them. All one-way. The bastard disappeared down one of those.
Nash stayed as close to the small green Honda as he could, but his black Navigator was a tight fit for the sharp corners.
They came out somewhere in Philly’s old industrial quarter, empty factories and not muc
h else. Other areas of the city had seen a revival over the last decade, developers taking over old industrial buildings and making them into high-priced condominiums. But not here.
The man went off the road, crossing from parking lot to parking lot, probably hoping to disappear among the jumble of buildings. And for a short while he did.
Then Nash found the man’s car parked under a lopsided overhang.
He parked behind it, blocking it in, then slipped out, kept low, his gun in front of him. Weeds grew in the cracked cement. Graffiti decorated almost every available surface, including the two steel doors on the side of the building. One of them had a lock on it. The other’s cheap padlock had been smashed off.
Nash ducked inside, immediately going for cover, and waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Some broken windows sat high up on the factory’s north side. Most were boarded up, but the boards had rotted and fallen from a couple, so the place wasn’t completely dark. He spotted a light switch on the other side of the door, but didn’t go for it. The less light, the better.
Abandoned assembly stations littered the room, covered with dust. The only thing that indicated recent occupation of the place was a giant Mummers’ float in the middle, complete with palm trees and a thatch-roofed hut. The empty space was probably rented by one of the brigades—the Mummers—that paraded through the city on New Year’s Day each year.
On the one hand, he hated that he couldn’t survey the place at a glance. On the other, the workstations and the float did provide him with cover.
He moved forward, keeping low, his weapon ready. His rubber-soled shoes made no sound on the cement. But no matter how much ground he gained, no matter which way he turned, he didn’t see or hear the man. He began to wonder if the guy might have sneaked out another door at the far end.
He was moving that way when a soft creak behind him made him spin around and dive for cover. A shot rang out. He swore at the bite of a bullet in his shoulder, shooting back at the flash of movement behind the float, hitting nothing but a fake palm tree that snapped in half.
He kept in cover as he stole forward, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder. A minute passed, then another. No sign of the bastard. Nash’s shoulder began to burn. He stopped for a second to take a look. No exit wound. The bullet was still in there. At least it didn’t hit the bone.
He took off his belt and tied off the blood flow, grateful that he was hit on the left. He’d been shot worse more times than he cared to count. The most important thing was that he had his man and Kayla was safe. By now, Joey had her and Greg back at the apartment.
And Nash wasn’t leaving here until this bastard was incapacitated and told him who the hell was behind the attacks.
“That was stupid. Coming to the funeral,” he said to keep the guy distracted and maybe goad him into making a mistake. “Did you really think you could get to her with all those people around?”
A moment of silence passed before the response came in a voice of derision. “I wasn’t there to take the bitch out. I went to get you away from her.”
Chapter Ten
The whole way home from the funeral, Kayla kept looking back for Nash, but he’d completely disappeared.
“Do you know who he went after?”
“Young guy, dark hair, shifty eyes,” Joey said.
He parked under the building, in the secure lot, and they all went up in the elevator. For security reasons, the parking elevator only went to the lobby where they had to get off and cross to the other elevator bank to go up. This ensured that everyone who went up to the residences would be seen by the doorman. She’d chosen this building especially for the security features. She’d be safe here, she told herself. She and Greg would be fine with Joey until Nash got back.
Kayla took her brother’s hand. He let her. He didn’t always. Most of the time, he didn’t like to be touched. He’d been silent and depressed all day, but now he gave her a strained, distracted smile.
“I’m sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do, Miss Landon, you just let me know,” Stanislav said.
“Thank you, Stan.”
Greg let her hold on to him all the way up, not pulling away until they were inside. She disarmed the alarm. Joey went to check every room. They weren’t to leave the entryway until the all clear was given, standing orders from Nash.
“Everything looks good,” Joey said as he made his way back to Kayla.
“Anyone hungry?” She moved toward the kitchen, Tsini following closely.
The dog had been sticking to her like Velcro since they’d returned from Vegas. She whined every time Kayla left the apartment, and came into her bedroom to check on her a couple of times a night.
“I’ll change first.” Greg walked to his room.
She pulled a tray of sandwiches from the fridge as Joey came back in. “Anything for you?” She tossed Tsini a slice of bologna.
“Later.”
“Can you call Nash?”
“He’ll call. I don’t want to distract him if he’s in the middle of something.”
Like a shootout, she thought, and her stomach constricted. She put down her sandwich.
Greg was coming into the kitchen.
She gave a double take when she saw the gun in his hand.
Joey must have read her expression because his hand went to the weapon at his side, but he didn’t get a chance to turn.
The gun went off.
“Greg!” she screamed when her mouth would work at last.
Joey crashed to the floor, taking a barstool with him, making a terrible racket.
She dove behind the counter.
“Put that down!” Where on earth did he find a gun? It wasn’t like Nash to leave something like that carelessly lying around. Had Mo or Joey? “Put it down before it goes off again. Are you okay, Joey?” She peeked out from behind the counter and saw Greg standing still, his face white, the gun at his side as he stared at Joey on the floor.
Blood was everywhere. She acted on instinct.
“Put it down, Greg.” She rushed over to Joey and tried to plug the hole in his chest with her bare hands, knowing it was futile. “Call an ambulance.” She thought to check for a pulse at last. Faint. He was bleeding out fast. Too much blood. The hole was too big, the damage too extensive.
Greg still wasn’t moving. Probably in shock.
“It was an accident. Everything will be fine,” she said, her body shaking. Nothing would be fine. But she couldn’t afford to let Greg go into one of his fits. Sometimes he would completely lose it if he got too overwhelmed. She needed to keep him calm. She needed to calm down herself.
She let go of Joey at last and went to the phone. Her hands were covered with blood, and soon so was the receiver. She had to wipe the tears from her eyes so she could see the numbers. She dialed nine, then one.
Then Greg was there and he took the phone from her with his left hand while his right hand brought the gun back up to chest level.
“What are you doing? I need to call for help.” She tugged at the phone, but Greg wouldn’t let go.
Thoughts too crazy to comprehend jammed her mind. Her blood ran cold.
Tsini was growling next to her.
“I have to finish what I started,” Greg said.
NASH EASED some pressure off the belt to let circulation return to his injured arm. Fresh blood ran down on his shirt immediately. He waited a second or two, then tightened the belt again.
He needed to get the hell out of the abandoned factory and get back to Kayla. But first he had to take care of the bastard who’d shot him. Had to be somewhere close by.
Then he caught movement again. Not the man, but his shadow, a dark spot on the floor that wasn’t as still as the rest. The guy was hiding behind a piece of plywood leaning against an assembly station.
Nash aimed and fired. The bullet went through the wood with ease, the sound echoing in the empty space.
The man uttered an expletive and dove to better cover, leavin
g behind drops of blood on the cement. He was muttering and swearing. “Kid’s not payin’ me for this.” He rushed across the next gap, moving back toward the door where they’d come in.
Nash was gaining ground. “Who hired you?”
The guy dove across another opening without answering.
Nash took a shot, but missed. Kid. Then everything fell into place. Dammit. He pulled out his phone and dialed Joey to warn him just as the guy made a run for the door.
Nash dropped the phone to hold the butt of the gun with his other hand and steady his aim. Squeezed off a shot.
The guy dropped to his knees right in the door, then slumped against the door frame.
It was over. Nash rushed forward, ready to fly to Kayla. He wasn’t going to be late. He couldn’t bear thinking of the alternative. He was going to get to her in time.
But the bastard turned back, lifted his arm and fired.
“YOU DON’T want to do this, Greg.” She’d been keeping him talking for the last twenty minutes, hoping someone would come to her rescue. But one of the perks of luxury penthouse living was super-soundproofed walls.
If anyone had heard the gunshot and realized it had been a gunshot, they would have been here by now.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Kayla pleaded.
Greg’s mouth tightened. “I’m not stupid.”
“That’s not what I meant. You know I never thought that about you.”
“Everybody else does. I was never going to get my share of the company.”
Her heart sank at the cold way he spoke those words.
“I had to steal my own money.”
Puzzle pieces fell into place. “The missing million?”
“Then you told Dad and he was going to fire me. He yelled at me.”
Greg hated yelling.
“You didn’t do anything to them, did you? Mom and Dad? Please, Greg?” she pleaded with him.
“He was mad when they drove off. He was going to tell Mom. I wished he would die.”
“But you didn’t do anything?”
“I wished it. And it came true.”
A small part of the tension inside her eased. “That wasn’t your fault. He could have driven slower even if he was angry.”
