by Lisa Childs
She flinched. She’d fallen into that second category. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said.
“That Luther would try to kill you? I know it’s difficult for you to accept, but someone in your office is working for him,” he said.
She released a ragged sigh. She couldn’t deny that it might be true. With Luther, really anything was possible. “But why try for me now?” she asked. “Why not wait until closer to the start of the trial?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t want to risk a postponement that would leave him in jail longer.”
That was true. If she was killed now, there was time for another assistant DA to get up to speed on their case.
“I don’t know...”
“I don’t know if it was Luther behind the shooting either,” Landon admitted.
And she was relieved that he shared her doubts.
“You have all those other threats,” he said. “It could have been any of them.”
She’d thought those threats were empty. That was why she hadn’t reported them to the chief. But now she realized that had been stupid. She’d been stupid. Like Landon had pointed out, it was smarter to be afraid. Then she would be careful.
She wasn’t just afraid for her life anymore, though. She was afraid for her heart, too.
That was fear Landon must have seen when he’d looked so deeply into her eyes. She was afraid she was starting to fall for him.
But then he tensed and drew out his weapon. “Shhh...” he said, even though she hadn’t been about to say a word.
She listened, though, to the sound of their breathing and the creak of a door opening. Someone was here.
She doubted it was Clint Quarters. He wouldn’t have risked bringing Rosie here, where other people would know to look for them. No. This was someone either looking for Rosie and Clint or for her and Landon, to finish what they’d started—to finish them off.
Where the hell had everyone gone?
Were Rosie and Clint dead? A dead man couldn’t drive, and Luther had learned that Clint had driven away from the ambush. But that hadn’t been the only ambush that evening...
Someone had shot up the assistant district attorney’s house. He punched in the number for the person he figured had done that.
“Hello?” the caller greeted him curiously. He wouldn’t have recognized the number. Luther kept having to change cell phones—kept having to destroy the ones that might have been traced back to him.
“What the hell did you do?” he asked.
“Do?” the person innocently asked. Too innocently.
“I heard about the ADA getting shot at,” Luther told him. “I did not give the order for that.”
What the hell was happening? Why was no one listening to him? At least his source at the police department was keeping him informed—had let him know about the call of shots fired at the ADA’s house and about the break-in at the judge’s daughter’s apartment.
He just wanted eyes on Jocelyn Gerber and the judge’s daughter, Bella Holmes. He didn’t want either of them dead. Yet.
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me!” he shouted, drawing the attention of a guard passing his cell. But the guard only glanced back at him once before turning around and acting as if he hadn’t seen a thing.
Nobody saw what he was doing. So how had the damn chief of police gotten wind of his plan to take out everyone associated with his trial?
“I didn’t hit her,” the man finished. “She and the guy she calls her boyfriend are fine.”
“Boyfriend?” Luther snorted. That bitch was too uptight to have a lover.
“Big guy—light brown hair, brown eyes.”
“Landon Myers.” Had to be Landon.
“Yeah, I think that’s his name,” the guy replied.
Luther chuckled. The former vice cop could be pretty damn uptight, too. “He’s her bodyguard.”
“He’s going to fail,” the guy replied.
Luther opened his mouth to reiterate his order to keep Jocelyn alive for now. But then he thought about it.
He needed the judge’s daughter alive. He couldn’t use threats against her to influence the judge to rule in his favor if she was dead.
But it didn’t really matter to him when Jocelyn Gerber died.
He uttered a ragged sigh. “When you get the chance, do it,” he agreed.
The guy chortled. “I’ll get the chance soon. Very soon.”
As Luther clicked off the cell, he felt a moment’s regret. Jocelyn Gerber was so gorgeous, it really was a shame that he wouldn’t be able to look at her much longer.
But then he shrugged off that regret. It would be good to have at least one person dead that he wanted gone.
Chapter 8
Landon pushed Jocelyn behind him. “Get in the bathtub,” he whispered. “Stay down.” She would be safe in the old steel claw-foot tub if the shooting started—as long as the shooter didn’t take him out. Then Jocelyn would have no protection at all.
There wasn’t even a window in the bathroom through which she could escape. But she did as he’d ordered.
And again, he was glad that she was finally afraid. It would make protecting her a hell of a lot easier. As long as he wasn’t outnumbered too much. How many people had come after them this time?
The door creaked as it opened all the way before softly snapping shut again. And then the floorboards creaked with the weight of the intruders. There had to be at least two, as he heard two distinctly different sounds of footsteps. He’d partially closed the bathroom door, so he could only peer out through the crack between it and the jamb. He heard the front bedroom door open. He didn’t have much time. They would open this one next. So he slipped out—with his gun drawn and his finger twitching against the trigger.
“Don’t shoot,” a female voice yelled. And a blonde stepped between him and another man holding a gun.
“Keeli!” Landon exclaimed. He jerked his barrel up to point at the ceiling.
Spencer Dubridge did the same and expelled a shaky breath. “Stop doing that!” he growled, but the comment was directed at Keeli.
“It’s my job to protect you,” she reminded him as she stepped back.
“It’s okay,” Landon called out to Jocelyn. “It’s Detective Dubridge and Keeli.”
The ADA must have already discerned that because she stood in the open doorway to the bathroom. But she arched a black brow and asked, “Are you sure it’s safe?” as the two continued to bicker.
He grinned. Who knew Jocelyn Gerber could be funny?
He was actually beginning to like her as well as understand her. The grin slid away from his mouth. That wasn’t good, though. She was already too much of a distraction. He forced himself to turn away from her and focus again on the detective and his diminutive but fierce bodyguard.
“Clint’s not here,” he told them.
“I’m not looking for Quarters,” Dubridge said. “I found who I’m looking for.”
Landon furrowed his brow with confusion. “Me?”
“Both of you,” Dubridge replied as he turned toward Jocelyn. “The chief sent me out to investigate the shooting at Ms. Gerber’s house. But by the time I—”
“We,” Keeli interrupted him.
Dubridge sighed. “Whatever. You guys were gone. What the hell happened?” he asked. “Who shot up the place?”
“I don’t know,” Landon admitted.
“You didn’t see anyone?” Keeli asked the question and narrowed her eyes to study him.
Heat rushed to his face. It was as if she knew what he’d been doing—that he’d been distracted. “It all happened so quickly.”
“There were no spent shells inside the house,” Dubridge remarked.
“The shooter didn’t get inside,” Landon replied.
/> “Were you inside or outside?” Dubridge asked.
“Inside.”
“You didn’t return fire?” he asked, and now he exchanged a glance with Keeli.
Landon’s face burned now with embarrassment. He knew he’d been a piss-poor bodyguard, but now they knew it, too.
“There was no time,” Jocelyn said.
He was surprised she would defend him.
“He saved my life,” she added.
And Keeli and Dubridge exchanged another look. They knew he could have done more, that he could have caught the person who shot at her if he’d been more alert.
Less distracted...
Or maybe that was less attracted—to the person he was supposed to be protecting.
He’d saved her life this time. But there would be more attempts. Landon just wasn’t sure who was coming after her—some of Luther’s crew or one of the people who’d sent her those other threats.
Jocelyn looked around her house and shuddered. She hadn’t wanted to move here. She hadn’t wanted the house her parents had insisted on buying for her. But she hated seeing it as it looked now, with the windows of her home office shot out, pictures knocked to the floor and holes torn through the paneling she’d painted white.
At least Lady had finally come out of wherever she’d been hiding. She’d run right to Landon the minute they’d opened Jocelyn’s front door. He’d carried her into the kitchen to feed her.
“I already called the company we recommend for crime-scene cleanup,” Spencer Dubridge assured her. “They’ll secure the place tonight and then can start on repairs once you or your insurance agency okay their estimate.”
She nodded. She wouldn’t have thought of all of that—of what her parents must have had to do to clean up and repair her grandparents’ home. Of course, once those repairs had been made, they’d sold the house right afterward. Nobody had ever wanted to go back there again—least of all her.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to be back here now, but Spencer had insisted. And she knew she and Landon shouldn’t have left the scene until police had arrived. But he hadn’t trusted the police.
Or so he’d claimed.
She studied the dark-haired detective. Should she trust Detective Dubridge? He was ambitious. But then, everyone thought she was, too, because she worked so hard. Maybe he worked hard for the same reason she did, though—to get criminals off the streets.
“What about the crime-scene lab?” she asked him. “Has anyone been here yet?” The techs usually took a long time to process a scene, but she’d caught no sight of the van. She hadn’t even seen any police tape cordoning off the area.
Spencer shook his head. “No. The chief sent me out because he wants to keep this quiet. I’m supposed to be the only one to investigate.” He glanced at Keeli Abbott, who moved around the home office, inspecting the damage. “I took pictures and bagged the spent shells I found on the street outside. Whoever shot at the house shot from the open window of their vehicle.”
“A drive-by, then...” That should have scared her, but she actually breathed a sigh of relief. “That has to be Luther’s people.”
Spencer shook his head. “Luther doesn’t send just one shooter to a scene. I don’t think he had anything to do with this.”
“Then who?” she asked.
Spencer held up a plastic evidence bag. It didn’t contain the spent shells he’d picked up. It contained the letters from her desk. “Any one of these people...”
She shivered.
“Why didn’t you report these?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I didn’t consider them any more credible threats than when people tell me in court that they’re going to get back at me.” That happened so often, a perp swearing vengeance as bailiffs dragged them out of court. It was only every once in a while that she was accosted outside court; that was why she carried the Taser—to protect herself during those rare occasions.
Dubridge pointed toward the shattered front windows of the office. “Looks pretty credible to me. You should have reported the threats.”
“I really didn’t think I was in any danger,” she said. “At least, not here. My address is not a matter of public record.”
“Anyone can do a deed search,” the investigative detective said.
“But my name isn’t on the deed,” she said. “It’s in the name of my maternal grandparents’ trust, with no way to trace it back to me.” Her parents had wanted to be doubly careful to protect her.
“Then someone must have followed him,” Dubridge murmured.
Landon had just stepped out of the kitchen, where he must have left Lady. But he was deep in conversation with Keeli on the other side of the large living room. While they both glanced over at the people they were supposed to be protecting, they did not appear to be eavesdropping on them.
Keeli wasn’t just petite and protective. She was appealing. Was Landon attracted to her? Had they ever been involved? Something cold chased over Jocelyn, like she’d been doused with ice water.
“Don’t you trust him?” she asked.
“Myers?” Dubridge asked, and his dark eyes widened with the question.
“All of them,” she said. “The Payne Protection bodyguards who used to work vice. Do you trust them?”
He glanced over at Landon and Keeli now himself, and his voice deep with conviction, he replied, “With my life.”
“You do?”
“I used to work with all of them,” he reminded her. “They’re good people, hardworking, honest people. I trust them. It’s our current coworkers you and I need to worry about.”
She shivered again. “You believe the chief, then—that there are leaks in our departments?”
He nodded. “In fact, I would sooner believe that a coworker of yours knows where you live than that someone followed Landon Myers here. He would have noticed the tail right away.”
He’d noticed the one that had followed them from the safe house after her meeting with the eyewitness. And as soon as he’d noticed him, he’d lost him.
She drew in a shaky breath, bracing herself to accept the truth. Someone she worked with might have tried to kill her. Someone she worked with was also informing for the enemy.
Dubridge, who was usually all business, slid his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her reassuringly. “We’ll find out who,” he promised. “We’ll keep you safe.”
“I’m not worried about myself,” she said. At least, not just herself...
She was worried about Luther Mills getting away with not just one murder but quite a few more.
Like the witness and the evidence tech and the judge’s daughter and...
Hers.
He felt like he was on the damn witness stand right now, and he didn’t like it one bit. At least his boss wasn’t interrogating him in person—just over the cell phone pressed to his ear.
“How did you know about the shooting at Jocelyn’s house?” Amber Talsma-Kozminski asked him.
He shouldn’t have called her. But he’d wanted to know himself if any of those bullets had struck Jocelyn. He’d also wanted to be the first one to talk to his boss about the shooting that would be attributed to Mills, so that he would get the case before she assigned it to anyone else.
He still couldn’t believe she’d assigned it to Jocelyn. Not when he had more experience than the young female lawyer. He was the better man for the job.
He was also the better man for Amber Talsma-Kozminski’s job as the district attorney. And he would have that job, too. Someday...
As long as he didn’t get caught.
He figured that Kozminski wasn’t just being curious about how he’d heard about the shooting. She sounded suspicious. Had someone realized that there was a leak in the district attorney’s office? That he was the leak?
He had to be careful—so damn c
areful—right now. He couldn’t claim that Jocelyn had called him; unless she was dead, she’d call him a liar. He could cast doubt on someone else in the office. He considered it, but no name but Jocelyn’s came to his mind at the moment.
“Are you there?” Amber prodded him, and the suspicion in her voice was even more evident, along with the impatience. “I asked you—”
“I heard about the shooting from a friend at the police department,” he said.
Someone in the police department had called him—Luther’s someone in the police department. So he wasn’t lying.
And because he wasn’t lying, Amber must have heard the truthfulness. “I need to know who,” she said.
He uttered a rueful sigh. “I’m sorry, boss. I promised this person I wouldn’t say anything. They know the chief was trying to keep the shooting quiet, and they’re worried they’ll get in trouble.”
That was all true, as well.
“This is important,” Amber persisted. “Jocelyn could have been killed.”
Could have been.
So she hadn’t been.
That damn bitch had survived despite his emptying his entire clip of bullets into that house. How the hell had she done that?
Then he remembered the size of the guy who’d been hanging around her. Like Luther had said, he had to be a bodyguard. And he’d guarded her successfully.
This time.
Next time he would make certain that he took them both out. And he needed to do it soon—before anyone discovered that he was Luther’s leak.
Chapter 9
Where the hell had they gone? Nobody had heard from Clint and Rosie since the shooting. Parker had gathered several people in the conference room because he wasn’t the only one worried about what had happened to the missing eyewitness and her bodyguard. At least he knew where Jocelyn and Landon were now, and that they were okay since they sat around that table, too.
“You’re sure he was hurt?” Parker asked his sister Nikki about Clint.
“There was blood on the sidewalk where he’d pulled the SUV,” Nikki said. “And I swear I saw him get hit at least once.”
