by Lisa Childs
“You’re going to die if you don’t,” he warned her.
“Are you threatening me?” She stepped out of her apartment and looked around him, calling out, “Officer! Officer!”
The hallway was empty but for him. The building felt empty—which only confirmed what Clint had heard.
“What did you do with him?” she demanded to know. “Where is he?”
“Who?” he asked.
“The police officer who brought me home from the hospital,” she replied. She was wearing her scrubs still. They were a deep blue that complemented her naturally tan skin. But hell, Rosie Mendez would look beautiful in anything. She had—even in the somber black dress she’d worn for her brother’s funeral.
“Where is he?” she asked again.
Clint shrugged. But he felt a niggling sensation between his shoulder blades. Had something happened to the police officer? Or had Luther Mills gotten to him, paying him off to look the other way or worse?
Parker had warned Clint and the other members of their team that they could trust no one but one another. The River City PD and the DA’s office had been compromised. Because they weren’t sure who the moles were, they couldn’t place confidence in anyone.
That wasn’t hard. Clint trusted few people. The hard part would be getting Rosie to trust him. Hell, that wouldn’t just be hard; it would probably prove impossible.
But he wouldn’t let that stop him from keeping his last promise to her brother. The buzz on the street and from the jail was that something was going down tonight to get rid of the witness.
Javier hadn’t been Clint’s only informant. But he’d been his best.
“We need to get out of here,” Clint said, and he reached for her arm.
She jerked back. “Don’t touch me!” she said, her voice shaky with fury or maybe fear.
He would never hurt her. At least, not physically. He couldn’t help how he’d already hurt her. It was too late to change that, though.
Javier was gone.
She would not be next.
“Come on,” he said, his patience with her wearing thin.
She had to know that she was in danger, especially since her police detail had mysteriously disappeared.
“We need to get out of here!”
The eerie silence had been broken by the sound of footsteps—a lot of footsteps—heading up the stairwell at the end of the hall. That niggling sensation he’d had turned to a cold sweat that chilled his skin and his blood. He didn’t need Parker Payne’s mom’s notorious sixth sense to know that something bad was about to happen.
“I’d rather die than go anywhere with you!” she told him. And just as she said the words, gunfire began to ring out in the hallway behind Clint.
He shoved her inside the apartment with such force that he knocked her to the floor. Then he dived in behind her, slamming the door shut.
No matter how the hell many dead bolts she had on it, turning them wasn’t going to keep out the firepower coming after her. He turned only a couple before he dragged her up from the floor and tugged her toward the window.
And as bullets began to strike and penetrate the old wooden door, he wrapped his arms around her and hurled them both through that open window.
He knew it was their only hope of escape—if they could survive the fall...
Chapter 2
Luther Mills took the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a long moment. He couldn’t have heard what he thought he had. The phone was a drop cell one of the guards had picked up for him. Everybody had a price.
Well, almost everybody.
“What the hell did you say?” he asked his caller to repeat himself.
“Clint Quarters showed up at her apartment first,” the guy replied.
This was a new member of Luther’s crew, someone he’d hired specifically to make sure this trial never took place. But he wasn’t certain he could trust the man. But hell, Javier Mendez had proved to him that he couldn’t trust anyone. And then when he’d put bullets in the kid, Luther had proved that anyone who dared to cross him would die.
Too bad Javier’s stubborn sister hadn’t learned that lesson yet. But she would. It would be the last thing Rosie ever learned.
“And before we could get to her,” the guy continued, “they jumped out a window.”
Clint Quarters.
He was one of those damn people who had no price. Like Rosie...
Maybe his guys had it wrong. Maybe she’d shoved Quarters out the window.
Did it matter? All that mattered to Luther was that she not testify against him. He didn’t care why. And he certainly didn’t care if Clint Quarters had died with her. Actually he would prefer that Clint died.
And not Rosie.
He’d always had a soft spot for her since they’d been kids in grade school together. Rosie had always been so sweet and serious and smart. That soft spot was why he’d waited so long to put out the hit on her. But running his business from jail was getting old. That was why he’d put the plan into motion to eliminate the eyewitness. It was past time that he get out again.
And there was no way in hell he was ever going to prison.
* * *
“What the hell is wrong with you!” Rosie shrieked at the crazy man driving erratically through the streets of River City. Of course, that erratic driving might have had something to do with the wound to his shoulder. Blood streaked down the leather sleeve of his torn jacket. She didn’t know if he’d been shot or if he’d hurt it when he’d hurtled them both through her apartment window.
She couldn’t stop shaking as fear and adrenaline continued to course through her. Her fingers trembled too much for her to even pull the safety belt across her lap. But she needed to—as he careened around a corner and her body slammed against the passenger’s door. “Are you trying to kill us?”
She’d thought for certain that she was going to die when they’d catapulted through that window of her third-floor apartment. But there had been a dumpster beneath it, and somehow Clint had turned so that she fell on top of him. He was the one who’d hit whatever had been in the dumpster. She suspected he’d also hit the edge of the rusted metal bin.
“I’m trying to make sure you don’t get killed,” he told her through gritted teeth.
Was he gritting his teeth because he was in pain?
She should have been happy that he was, after all the pain he’d put her through. But instead she felt concern. Maybe that was just because she’d been a nurse for so long. She couldn’t not react to someone who was hurt, no matter who that person was.
She glanced behind them. “Nobody’s following us.” She couldn’t imagine how they could with the way he was driving. “Pull over.”
“I am not letting you out of this vehicle,” he told her—again through gritted teeth.
“What?” She didn’t want out. She didn’t even know where the hell they were. But his telling her that she couldn’t...
Suddenly made her want out very badly.
“Are you kidnapping me?” she asked as even more adrenaline rushed through her.
“I’m protecting you,” he said.
She shook her head. “You’re not a policeman anymore.”
He’d quit—right after Javier’s murder. The detective who’d arrested Luther Mills had told her. She’d been surprised that Clint hadn’t wanted Luther’s arrest for himself since he’d sacrificed her brother to get it. But then she’d refused to give her eyewitness account to him. She’d refused to talk to him at all until he’d had the gall to show up at the funeral. Then she’d said plenty.
“No, I’m not a cop anymore,” Clint admitted. “I’m a bodyguard.”
“Well, I sure as hell didn’t hire you to protect me,” she said. Even if she could have afforded private security, she would not have paid for his services.<
br />
“The police chief hired the agency I work for now,” he replied. “The Payne Protection Agency.”
“The police chief?” she asked skeptically. He had a whole police force at his disposal. Why would he hire a private security company?
Clint shrugged and a grimace contorted his handsome face. He was definitely hurt. “Luther has information he shouldn’t. He’s gotten to people in the police department and the DA’s office,” he said.
Panic had her gasping. “The police officer who was protecting me?” What the hell was his name? Officer Maynard. She remembered now, because she’d thought Javier would have teased him about his name. And he couldn’t be much older than her brother.
“Maybe,” he said. “I didn’t see who was shooting at us. But even if it was him, he wasn’t the only one shooting. You can’t trust anyone.”
No. She couldn’t. But she couldn’t wrap her mind around that young officer trying to kill her.
“But he could have taken me out any time.” A chill chased down her spine, making her tremble even more than she had been. “Why...”
“Luther gave the order that it was to happen tonight,” he said.
That was why Clint had shown up at her door when he had. She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand?” he asked. “He doesn’t want you to testify.”
“But if he has me killed, he’ll do time for my murder,” she pointed out. “Either way, he winds up in prison.”
Clint shook his head now. “He’s smarter than that. He’s been careful with what he’s said. Nothing would be admissible in court.”
“Then how can you be sure?” she asked.
He took his gaze from the street to stare at her for a moment. “After the shooting, how can you ask that?”
“Maybe they were shooting at you,” she suggested. “I’m sure you have more enemies than I do.”
“Nope,” he said. “Just you.”
She glared at him, but he was focused on the road again and probably missed it. “I highly doubt that.” He had to have made a lot of arrests in his years as a vice cop. “Luther could have ordered a hit on you.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t be upset if I got hit in the cross fire,” Clint agreed.
“Were you?” she asked. “You need to pull over, so I can look at your shoulder.”
He glanced down at it as if he hadn’t realized he was bleeding. “We’re almost there.”
“Where?” she asked. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the Payne Protection Agency,” he said.
She shook her head. “I don’t want a bodyguard,” she said.
“You need one.”
After the shooting, she really couldn’t argue with him, especially if the officer really had been one of the people shooting at her. But there was one thing she could refuse. “I don’t want you.”
* * *
I don’t want you.
Clint wasn’t surprised. He knew she hated him—that she blamed him for her brother’s death. She wasn’t the only one who held him responsible. He did, too.
I don’t want you.
Those words hung in the air between them in the SUV. She didn’t want him, but he wanted her. He had since the first moment he’d seen her. She was beautiful in a way that went deeper than her golden skin. But even back then, when they’d first met, she hadn’t liked him. She’d known—before Javier died—that working with Clint would get him killed.
Regret and remorse hung heavy on his shoulders, hurting more than the wound he hadn’t noticed until she’d mentioned it. He was surprised she wanted to check it. But true to her word, once he pulled the SUV into the parking lot of Payne Protection, she was reaching over the console.
But when she peeled away the edges of the torn jacket and shirt, he flinched, and a curse slipped out between his gritted teeth. “Pouring salt in it?” he asked.
Her full lips curved slightly. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any with me.”
She touched it again, and pain radiated down his arm. He asked, “Are you sure?”
“I didn’t have time to grab the shaker before you tossed me out the window,” she reminded him. “The blood is starting to clot. But you’re going to need some stitches so you don’t have a jagged scar. And some antibiotics. You must have hit it on the edge of the dumpster, because I don’t see a bullet.”
“Bullet probably would have hurt less.” The minute the words left his lips, he regretted it—especially when he saw the smile slide away from her lips, turning them down into a grimace.
She pulled her hand away from his shoulder. “Javier probably wouldn’t agree with you—if he had survived.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. But he knew the apology, which he’d uttered many times, would never be enough for her. It wouldn’t bring back her little brother, and that was the only way she would ever forgive him.
But even if he couldn’t gain her forgiveness, he needed her trust. “We’re here,” he said, and gestured toward the building. Lights glowed through the windows in the brick walls.
She glanced at the building. “Good.” When she reached for the door handle, Clint caught her shoulder to hold her back.
“You can’t get out yet.”
She turned toward him with her dark eyes narrowed. “You can’t keep me—”
He already knew that. “I have to make sure it’s safe,” he explained.
“Nobody could have followed us here,” she said, “not with the crazy way you were driving.”
He glanced around the parking lot, which was brightly lit with streetlamps. “Not followed,” he agreed. “But they could be here.”
“How?”
“You don’t think any of Luther’s shooters would recognize me?” he asked. He’d worked vice so long that most of them had to know who he was. “You don’t think Luther knows where I work now?”
She shivered as she looked out the windows, too. “Then you shouldn’t have brought me here, either.”
He sighed because he couldn’t argue with her. “I probably shouldn’t have. But the chief is here. He wants to talk to all of you.”
“The chief?”
“Police Chief Woodrow Lynch.”
“The former FBI guy.” She shivered again.
Lynch was intimidating, which was probably one reason why Parker hadn’t refused the assignment. Another was that Parker felt like Clint did—like they all did—about Luther Mills. He had to be stopped.
“And who is all of us?”
“Everybody Luther threatened in those phone calls. The CSI tech, the prosecutor, the judge’s daughter, the arresting officer...” All of Luther’s victims in one place.
It had been stupid to bring her here, to bring any of them here. A wave of nausea washed over him at the thought that he might have put her in more danger.
“Are you okay?” Rosie asked as she turned fully toward him again. She reached out and pressed her hand to his face.
Clint braced himself, but her touch affected him, making his pulse quicken and his breath catch in his lungs.
“You’re really warm,” she said. “Have you had a tetanus shot lately? You could be getting an infection from the metal that cut your shoulder.”
He was getting hot, but that was more from her touch than anything else. Her hand was cool against his face, but her soft skin made his tingle.
“When was your last tetanus shot?” she persisted.
From Javier singing her praises and from what Clint himself heard around the hospital about her, he already knew that she was a good nurse. But now he knew how good, that she could put aside her hatred of him for concern for his health.
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“We need to get you to the ER,” she said. “You need stitches and a tet
anus shot.”
“I’m fine,” he said.
He wasn’t worried about himself. He was worried about her, that he might have put her in more danger by bringing her here. He’d made a promise to her brother, and this one he would not break.
But when he noticed shadows near the building, he realized that the choice might not be left up to him. There were people out there moving within those shadows.
He had made damn certain the shooters from her apartment hadn’t followed them. But they wouldn’t have had to follow them. They could have followed any one of the other bodyguards back here from collecting the person he or she had been assigned to protect. Other Payne Protection SUVs were already parked in the lot.
Luther hadn’t ordered a hit on everyone for tonight. Just Rosie.
But Luther was such a control freak that he would probably have some of his people watching his other potential victims, so he would know where they were when he was ready to take them out. And if Luther had learned the Payne Protection Agency was guarding them, he could have figured out where they would all meet up.
And if he had figured it out, he had to be laughing his ass off that they’d made it so easy for him to take out all his victims in one place.
Maybe he was just being paranoid and giving Luther way too much credit. But he knew the drug dealer too well to ever underestimate him again. Luther Mills was always at least one step ahead of everyone else. Usually more. That was how he had avoided prosecution for so many years.
No. Clint would not make the mistake of underestimating him ever again. The last time he had, someone had died. Rosie’s brother.
A curse slipped out, and Clint reached for the keys still dangling from the ignition.
“What?” Rosie asked, her eyes widening with fear. “What’s wrong?”
Just as Clint started up the SUV again, those shadows moved away from the building toward his vehicle. He could drive over one or two of them—but not all of them.
Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he reached for his weapon as he pushed Rosie below the windows. “Get down!” he told her.
He would do his best to protect her. But the guilt that always weighed on his shoulders now reminded him that his best had not been good enough for Javier.
