“I lived with three beautiful people growing up. My grandmother was an actress. My mother was Miss California. My sister is a runway model. I know beautiful, and I’m not. It doesn’t bother me, so you don’t have to try to convince me that I am what I’m not.”
“Okay.”
“You’re the king of the one-word responses today, you know that?”
“And you’re still grumpy.”
“True.” She sighed, leaning her head back against the leather seat. “I am also letting you drive again, and I’m not sure why.”
“Because Old Blue runs better for me?”
“She does not run better for you. The weather is warming up. She always starts better in warm weather. The thing is…” Her eyes widened. “That’s him!” she shouted, grabbing Ryder’s arm and leaning so far toward him, she was nearly in his lap. Silky hair brushed his chin, her hand clutched his thigh, and he was pretty sure lava flowed in his belly.
“Who?”
“The guy I saw the morning Maureen died. He’s right there! Near that statue!” She jabbed her finger past his nose.
Several large statues decorated grave sites. Ryder scanned marble angels and stone figures, his attention caught by movement near the edge of the cemetery. Nothing concrete. Just the feeling that something had scurried out of sight. Could have been a bird or a squirrel, but the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, his pulse jumping with adrenaline. Thick trees offered plenty of cover for anyone who might have been there, their spring-rich branches shielding the area beyond.
“Stay in the car. I’m going to get the sheriff and Randal and take a look.”
“You can’t—”
“Stay!”
“I’m not a dog, Ryder, and I don—”
He shut the door, left her talking to Mazy.
He ran toward the statue, gesturing for the sheriff and deputy sheriff to follow. They sprinted toward him, catching up as he reached the edge of the cemetery.
“Did you see something?” Logan asked.
“Shelby saw our perp. He was behind this statue.” Ryder ducked behind the stone angel, searching the ground for signs that someone had been there.
The sheriff crouched beside him, pointed at compressed grass and a lone broken dandelion. “Looks like someone was here, but it could have been anyone.”
“Shelby is convinced it was him.” Ryder scanned the copse of trees, moving around thick trunks and out into an open field, Logan right behind him. Thick woods were to the left, vivid green grass to the right and ahead, sloping down to a narrow road that wove its way through the cemetery grounds. Several cars sat near the edge of the road and a few mourners dotted the area. None caught his attention. No one moved quickly. Nothing indicated that someone had run down the slope and jumped in a car.
“The sheriff is heading back to check on Shelby. How about we split up, Malone? You want to check out the cemetery or the woods?”
“I’ll try the woods.” It seemed like the most likely path for a perp who wanted to disappear quickly, and Ryder wanted first shot at the guy. He’d work by the book, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t ask a few questions and demand a few answers.
The woods were as thick as he’d imagined, tree trunk pressed close to tree trunk, the heavy scent of pine and decaying leaves filling his nose as he moved. Adrenaline pumped through him, his heart beating quickly in response.
Something moved in the shadows to his left, and he froze, his hand dropping to the gun concealed beneath his suit jacket. Another movement. Subtle. Stealthy. Coming toward him rather than moving away.
Ryder stepped behind a thick pine. Waiting.
A branch broke.
Fabric brushed against tree branches.
Close.
He tensed, holding back, practicing the patience he’d learned as a SEAL. Breath stilling, pulse slowing, everything in him ready and waiting.
Shuffled footfall. Leaves displaced. A hint of movement that let him know the time was right.
He lunged, his thigh screaming as he threw himself at the dark shadow, his arms tightening around wiggling, struggling humanity.
Hints of summer and sunshine floated on the air.
Vanilla and chocolate and…
Shelby.
“I told you to stay in the car,” he nearly shouted, all his hard-won, hard-earned patience failing as he looked into her terrified eyes, imagined her lying in the trees, her body limp and lifeless.
“I was worried about you.”
“Worried about me? I was a SEAL for ten years! I faced enemy fire more times than I can count. You should have been worried about yourself. What if I’d pulled my weapon? What if I’d shot you?” He eased his hold, smoothing his fingers over the red marks he’d left on her wrist.
“You’re too careful to let something like that happen.”
True, but that wasn’t the point.
“What if someone else had been waiting in these trees? What if you’d run into the perp out here?”
“I didn’t.”
“But you could have.”
“I know,” she finally conceded. “I guess I just wasn’t thinking straight. I kept seeing Maureen’s house in flames and imagining you lying dead in the woods. I didn’t think I could live with the guilt if something happened to you.”
“Everything okay over here?” The sheriff tromped through the woods, and Shelby looked relieved to see him coming.
“We’re fine.”
“Glad to hear it. I was worried when I got to your car and didn’t see you there. A woman in your position shouldn’t be wandering around alone.”
“A woman in my position?”
“You may have seen a murderer, Ms. Simons. And if so, he saw you. Seeing as how that’s the case, you can’t be too careful. Of course, you’re fortunate in your choice of friends. I’m sure Malone can hook you up with a security system at your house and your business.”
“Good idea, Sheriff. Why don’t we go get started on that now, Shelby?”
“I don’t need—”
“You’d be foolish not to take him up on his offer, young lady. Personal Securities Incorporated is one of the best security contractors in the country. Did you know that?”
“No.” Shelby met Ryder’s eyes, and he shrugged. It was true. His company was among the top five in the nation, but he didn’t expect that to impress Shelby. She’d never needed high-level security, probably hadn’t ever even thought about it.
“Well, it is. So, like I said, take him up on his offer. We’re running patrols by your place, but a good security system will help our efforts. By the way, that sketch artist I told you about will be in this Friday. I’ll send a patrol car to get you at ten in the morning. Does that work for you?” The sheriff continued talking while he led them back to grave site.
“That’s fine.” Shelby’s response was sober, and Ryder wondered if she’d finally realized just how much of her freedom she was going to have to give up in order to stay safe.
“Great. I’m anxious to get the composite. If we’re lucky, we may be able to match it with someone already in the system.”
“I don’t believe in luck, Sheriff,” she responded, dropping into Blue’s passenger seat, her face colorless.
“Well, whatever you believe in, you’d better pray it’s good to you, because the guy who murdered Maureen knew what he was doing. He killed her and destroyed every bit of forensic evidence he might have left. You’re the last loose end. I doubt he’s going to let you keep hanging.”
“I’ll have a security system put in, Sheriff, and I’ll be careful. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m exhausted, and I really need to leave.”
“Of course.” The sheriff closed Blue’s door and speared Ryder with a hard l
ook.
“When is the security system going in?”
“Today.”
“Good, because I’ve got a bad feeling about things.”
“You and me both,” Ryder responded, watching as Sheriff Jones made his way back to Maureen’s grave site.
Empty-handed, but Ryder didn’t think it was because the perp hadn’t been hanging around. He had been, watching from his hiding place behind the statue.
Had he purposely showed himself to Shelby, or had he made a mistake?
Ryder hoped it was the latter. One mistake meant there would be others, and mistakes would make it easier to track the guy down.
He got into Blue, driving away from the cemetery, outlining the rest of the day in his mind.
Shelby’s home security system first. Then the one at the bakery. Maybe neither would be needed, but caution kept people alive.
In Ryder’s business, it was better to overreact than to underreact. Better to plan for a war rather than a skirmish.
Because anything could be around the next corner.
A friend.
An enemy.
A booby trap.
He’d learned that the hard way, and his thigh screamed a reminder as he stepped on the gas and merged onto the highway.
NINE
Double-paned windows.
Floodlights over the front and back yards.
Motion-detecting security system tied directly to Ryder’s company headquarters.
New locks on all the doors.
Shelby was willing to do all those things, but there was no way in the world—ever—that she was going to be escorted from place to place by Ryder. Her poor heart couldn’t take it.
She had to put the brakes on, come to a dead halt before she fell over the precipice.
Her hand shook as she set a kettle on her 1940s stove. A hot cup of tea, a couple of painkillers and a few hours at the bakery, that’s what she needed.
It was all she needed.
She was going to march outside and tell Ryder that just as soon as she finished her tea. He’d gone out there after he’d finished talking to the eight-member team he’d called in to replace her windows, set up her security system and put new locks on the doors.
One day’s work.
That’s what Ryder had said after he’d walked her through the house, shown her every vulnerability, every weakened defense.
Next thing she knew, she’d been converged on by a vanload of buff men and women all eager to do exactly what Ryder told them.
She poured hot water into her teacup and dunked in a bag of ginger tea. She sipped the tea, her back aching with a ferocity that left her breathless.
She wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and try to forget the past week, but she hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Ryder she had to go to the bakery. Fear was an insidious beast, and it would consume her if she let it.
Stick your head in the sand and someone might just come along and step on it.
That’s what Grandmother Beulah had always said, and Shelby had every intention of keeping that from happening.
She placed the tea on the counter and walked up to her room, trying to ignore the sound of hammers and power tools and voices. She was going to change into something that didn’t cut off her breathing or dig into her stitches, and then she was going to demand that Ryder take her to the bakery.
It took a little longer than usual to change. Everything hurt. Her ribs. Her back. Her head.
Moving.
She pulled on soft, faded jeans that seemed just a little looser than they’d been the last time she’d worn them, and gently maneuvered a white T-shirt over her head. She had a clean apron at work, so she left the one she’d hung from the bedpost there.
She didn’t bother with refreshing her makeup. She’d be in the kitchen anyway, tucked away from the world and all its complications. Just Shelby and the stuff she really understood, like yeast and dough and flour and sugar. Those things were so much less complicated than people.
She pulled her hair back in a headband, eyeing her pale skin and the circles beneath her eyes. A week of guilt and fear had taken its toll, but she was ready to put it all behind her.
Maureen was gone.
No way to go back and undo that.
Shelby had to move on.
Just like she’d done so many times before.
She’d perfected the technique.
Get up. Get going. Keep going.
Until one day, the thing that hurt so much didn’t hurt quite as much anymore.
She blinked back hot tears, the sound of some sort of power tool ringing in her ears and vibrating through the floorboards.
Time to go.
Let Ryder’s team do whatever security thing he’d demanded. She’d come home to a different house and, hopefully, bring a better mood.
“I’m leaving, girl. You be good,” Shelby called to Mazy, who cowered beneath the bed, the noise and people too much for her.
Shelby wouldn’t have minded cowering with her, but Simons women were tough. They faced their troubles head-on. They did not turn tail and run at the first hint of danger.
Not that any of them had ever been in danger of more than a hangnail.
She grabbed her purse from the kitchen table and walked to the back door, staring out into the bright afternoon. She needed to find Ryder and tell him she was ready to go, but he’d told her he’d be working outside, and she was afraid to leave the safety of the house.
She took a deep breath, stepped out onto the oversize deck. The yard looked as it always did, steeply sloped and dotted with tall trees. When she’d purchased the house, she’d imagined children sledding down the hill in the winter, rolling down it in the spring. Imagined spending hours on the deck, cooking and laughing and making memories.
Now all she could picture was him.
Standing behind the trees.
Waiting with gun drawn and aimed at her heart.
“Going somewhere?” The question came out of nowhere, and she screamed, turning so quickly, she nearly toppled down the deck stairs. She grabbed the railing to steady herself, and looked up into Ryder’s deep brown eyes.
“I was looking for you.”
“Here I am. What do you need?” He took her hand, gently pulled her back into the kitchen.
You.
The answer danced on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it down.
She did not need him.
She needed to go to the bakery to prove that she could, and then she needed to bake.
“I need to get back to work.”
“I was hoping you’d change your mind about that.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then I’ll take you. I need to check on the team that’s working there anyway.”
“You already have a team at the bakery?”
“Yes.”
“Dottie’s probably having a fit.”
“I told them to lock her in the walk-in if she gave them any trouble.”
“You didn’t!”
“You’re right, but I thought about it.” He led her through the house and outside. The new windows were already in, the lights were up. Aside from a guy sitting on the porch, staring at a computer screen and frowning, the house looked normal.
“We online yet?” Ryder asked as they walked past, and the dark-haired young man shook his head.
“Five more minutes.”
“Good. Lock up and bring the keys to the other location when the team is finished here.”
“Will do.” He bent back over the screen, and Ryder hurried Shelby into Old Blue.
“What’s
he working on?” she asked as Ryder opened the door.
“Do you need your apron?” he responded, closing the door before she could respond.
“What’s he working on, Ryder?” she asked again as soon as he got into the car.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“If you’re saying that, then of course I need to worry about it.”
“He was tapping into an information database.”
“What information and what database?”
“Sometimes a little knowledge is plenty, Shelby Ann,” he muttered, pulling out of the driveway.
“It’s my life, and I want to have some control over it.”
“You have all the control.”
“Then why is a team of people setting up a security system at Just Desserts before I’ve approved it? And why are you driving Old Blue while I sit in the driver’s seat? And why aren’t you telling me what that guy was doing?” Her voice broke on the last word, but she refused to cry. That, at least, she could control.
She hoped.
To her surprise, Ryder didn’t respond, just kept driving, his hands loose on Blue’s steering wheel, his gaze focused straight ahead.
When he pulled into the parking lot of Just Desserts, Shelby grabbed the door handle, ready to run for the kitchen and her baking supplies, but she couldn’t move fast, and she’d barely pushed the door open when Ryder grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back into the car.
“Don’t go away mad, Shelby Ann.”
“I’m not mad.”
“Liar.” He smiled gently, tracing her frown with a rough, warm finger.
What was it with the man and touching?
Didn’t he know that every touch seared into her soul, made rational thought nearly impossible? Didn’t he understand just how tempted she was to let herself slide full tilt over the edge and into free fall?
Didn’t he understand just how terrifying that made him?
“What do you want from me, Ryder?” she asked, and his smile fell away.
“For now? Just to keep you safe.”
“And later?”
“I guess we’ll both have to decide that. Come on. You need to get back into the bakery, and I need to check on my crew’s progress.”
Undercover Bodyguard Page 8
