VIP Protector

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “You haven't remembered anything?”

  “Bits and pieces. The brain is decidedly uncooperative.”

  “Actually, I've tried my hand at hypnosis,” Cass admitted.

  Lynn started. “Actually, I was kidding.”

  “But it might be worth a try.”

  Lynn's heart pounded faster at the thought. If it worked... but would it? She was used to having control over her own life, so paranoid of letting anyone else in, the mere idea of being hypnotized choked her.

  “You can trust me,” Cass assured her.

  But could she trust herself?

  “Let me think about it.”

  After the club closed and the rest of the staff went home, Lynn joined Cass and the men at the bar in the club, where Gideon promptly gave Lynn the IDs he'd promised.

  “I understand you had an incident this afternoon,” Gideon said.

  Certain that he already had the details from Blade, she nevertheless said, “A car chase. Rather a car chasing my taxi. But I'm still in one piece.”

  “I already ran the plates,” Logan told her. “The car belongs to your parents' neighbor. Well, someone who lives around the corner from them.”

  “You're sure?” Blade asked.

  “It's official. The neighbor reported the car stolen late this afternoon.”

  “How?” Lynn remembered it being a new make. “It would have had a fob rather than a key.”

  “An experienced thief can get any car,” Blade said.

  Logan added, “And in this case, the owner made it easy for the thief. He forgot something in the house and left the fob on the console. When he came out, the car was gone.”

  “Did anyone see anything?” Lynn asked.

  Logan shook his head. “Sadly, no. They haven't found the vehicle yet, either, though if they ever do, it'll probably be clean of prints.”

  Disappointing news. Lynn had hoped the vehicle could be tracked to one of the suspects. All she got out of the incident was proof that the villain was still after her and would use whatever means he needed to get to her.

  “Lynn, the meeting is yours,” Gideon said. “I understand you have an idea of how to identify your abductor.”

  She'd been thinking about this since having lunch with Stella. “First off, do you have access to a sound lab?”

  “I might,” Logan said.

  “If we get recordings of all the suspect's voices, we could have an expert analyze them, see if one of them is a match to the message left at my office.”

  “That might be doable,” Logan said, “but it wouldn't be admissible in court.”

  “Maybe not, but first things first. If we can identify the man...”

  “That would be a step in the right direction,” Gideon agreed.

  Cass added, “Then we can figure out a way to nail him.”

  “Whoa!” Blade said, the only negative voice in the room. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

  In the end, Logan set Lynn up in the club's security office with a digital recorder and computer software that would alter her own voice, and Blade agreed to bring her in the next afternoon to make the necessary calls.

  “I have to get these recordings,” she told him on the way home. “No matter how, even if I need to do it in person.”

  “In person would be too dangerous,” Blade objected.

  Again, the negativity.

  “I'm safe enough in my new identity,” Lynn insisted. “Those men would never recognize me, but I know who they are.”

  “Wild talk. The police are on this. You could sit back and let them do their job.”

  Lynn dropped the subject after that, but she couldn't stop thinking about it. Though she'd only been in hiding a few days, she was already feeling like a fugitive.

  What if Stella and her colleagues didn't catch the villain? Her life would never be normal or sane while a killer who wanted her dead was still walking the streets. The longer it took, the bigger emotional mess she would be.

  Never known for her patience, Lynn knew she couldn't live this lie indefinitely.

  ***

  Once more, Lynn had come to him for protection in the middle of the night. Not that she'd alerted him. She'd stolen through the bathroom and into his quarters silently, but still he'd been aware of her presence the moment she’d stepped foot in his room. He'd waited until she'd settled down on the couch, until her breathing had evened out and deepened. And then he'd left his bed to watch her sleep.

  Now in the gym teaching her new self-defense techniques, Blade couldn't stop thinking about how scared she was. And how brave and how foolish.

  This morning wearing protection pads, he said, “All right, mentally prepare yourself and get ready to do your worst.”

  Blade watched Lynn's features harden and her spine draw up straight as she walked by him across the mat. He waited only a second before lunging forward and grabbing her, pinning her arms to her sides. She was ready for him and drove her heel into his knee. Despite two inches thick leg padding, he felt the impact.

  “Good!” he said, even as her foot continued a downward trajectory to stomp his toes. “Ow-w-w!”

  “Omigod, I hurt you again!” Lynn asked, turning in his arms, concern drawn in her lovely face.

  “Gotcha.”

  He watched the horror fade only to be replaced by indignation. “That wasn't funny.”

  “I kind of enjoyed it.”

  He was enjoying her. Watching her. Holding her.

  “Don't do that to me. I still feel guilty about hitting you with that sculpture.”

  “Loosen up a little. The leg is fine, nearly good as new, and you're doing great. You're just so intense.”

  “I want to get it right.”

  “And a fine job you're doing.”

  “Then maybe you could let go of me?”

  As he released her, the flush in Lynn's cheeks told Blade she was as affected by being close as he was.

  Not that he understood the attraction. They couldn't be more opposite. And she certainly wasn't his type. Normally he was drawn to women who were more open and honest about what they wanted. Women who would be glad to leave the tough stuff to him. Lynn was more of a mystery, one minute acting as if she didn't need him, the next as if she couldn't do without him.

  But she sure had guts and wasn't about to back down from a challenge, not even one that had her scared to death. She wasn't a woman waiting to be rescued by a man. For that alone, she had his respect, though he respected her in other ways, too.

  Though a successful lawyer, Lynn seemed to put compassion before money. And her own safety. He thought about her insisting on breaking disguise and going to court for Julie Wheeler. That said so much about her character. She shouldered responsibility, more than she ought to, especially in the case of her sister's death.

  “What next?” she asked, pulling him out of his musings.

  “I'd try some of the frontal attacks on you, but these are the only eyes I have.”

  She gave him an arch expression. “You don't trust me?”

  “I'm simply afraid you might get carried away with enthusiasm. You learn fast.”

  “Motivated is my middle name.”

  “Which one?”

  Her forehead drawing into a frown, she echoed, “Which one what?”

  “Evelyn Cross or Melinda Parker?”

  “The real me.”

  “I'm not so sure anymore which one that is.”

  She grinned. “Thanks. I think.”

  “That was definitely a compliment. Let's try a couple of moves.”

  More relaxed than she had been the day before, Lynn got into the sparring with a visible enthusiasm. Blade suspected it was more than her learning to protect herself. She was becoming comfortable with him. She was letting down her guard.

  Each time they made contact, his own pulse raced and his breathing quickened. He took every opportunity to touch her, to hold her. He couldn't get enough of her.

  How would he ever let her
go?

  ***

  Walking into the club's security office mid-afternoon, Lynn was attacked by a surprising case of nerves. Stage fright? Maybe she should have asked Cass to do this. No doubt the other woman would have given the performance of a lifetime.

  But it was important to Lynn that she take back her own life. She had to prove to herself that she wasn't helpless in the face of fear.

  She set her file folder on the desk, saying, “I hope we can connect with the suspects at work.”

  “If we don't, we can always try later at home,” Blade said. “Or tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. How many tomorrows would there be? It had only been a few days, but Lynn felt as if her life had been on hold forever.

  Her only consolation was spending time with Blade. Once her abductor was identified and caught, Lynn realized she might never see him again, an unthinkable prospect. In a few short days he'd become her anchor, her mentor, a vital part of her life.

  “Let's set up the voice alteration software first,” Blade said, sitting down at the computer and bringing the program on line.

  He put on headsets and handed her a pair with an attached mike, and they did some testing. The end product was a slightly altered feminine voice that was higher and lighter than her own. Even so, butterflies attacked Lynn's stomach as she dialed the Area North office.

  “Chicago Police Department, Area North. Sergeant Thomas speaking.”

  “Detective Roger Wheeler, please.”

  “Hold on.”

  Hearing muffled voices in the background, Lynn licked her lips and tapped her nails against the desk. And as she waited, she went over her cover story in her head. But when the Sergeant came back to her it was with disappointing news.

  “He's not in just now. Maybe in an hour.”

  Lynn hung up and, in a whoosh, let out the breath she hadn't even known she was holding. “No one home.”

  “You look a little pale,” Blade said. “Are you sure you don't want me to do this?”

  Lynn flushed. As always, he was considerate of her feelings. But this was one time he couldn't help her, other than taking charge of the equipment.

  “I have to do something for myself,” she insisted. “And I can handle Wheeler or anyone else. After all, it is at a distance.”

  “Just remember, you're not alone in this.”

  He squeezed her hand and made the flush travel through her to intimate spaces.

  “I know I'm not alone and I appreciate that, Blade. But I've thought and thought about it, and I know I can't cower in a corner, waiting for fate to find me. It probably seemed like that's what I wanted a few days ago, but I was scared out of my mind. That's not really who I am.”

  “I know who you are.”

  For a moment, the connection between them was so strong that it took her breath away. She'd never met a man like Blade Stone before. Or if she had, she'd been too blind to really see him. But her eyes were open now and she didn't intend to close them ever again.

  Realizing he was staring at her, she cleared her throat and mumbled, “Better get back to making calls before we run out of time.”

  Next, she tried Victor Churchill, but his efficient secretary put her off, asking for her name and the number where she could be reached.

  “Thanks, but I'll try again later.” Lynn made a face, but before Blade could distract her again, immediately tapped in the next number. “If this one doesn't pan out, that'll make three strikes.”

  “But you won't give up,” Blade said, sounding sure of himself. Rather, of her.

  “No, I won't.”

  But three turned out to be the charm. Yes, Timothy Cooper was in, and yes, he would speak to her.

  “Cooper.”

  “Mr. Cooper, this is Rachel Franklin.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I'm with Sunshine Kitchens.”

  “Who?”

  She met Blade's gaze and shrugged. Couldn't the man be polite enough to speak several words in a row? One-word sentences wouldn't help.

  “We have a new line of spices and dressings and—”

  “Nope.”

  “Surely there's something you need in the way of—”

  “Yeah, for you to get off the phone so I can get back to work.”

  With that he hung up, leaving Lynn flushed with frustration. “Was that enough?” she asked Blade.

  “We'll have to wait and see.”

  Nodding, she tapped in Johnny Rincon's number only to find it had been disconnected. She tried the operator and learned he had no telephone service.

  “How can anyone not have a telephone?” she asked in wonder.

  “Thank cell technology,” Blade answered. “He has one of those, even if it's in someone else's name.”

  Which was why the operator couldn't find him in the system, Lynn thought. Trying Churchill again, she got the same dance from the secretary. She re-dialed the Area North office and asked to be put through to Wheeler. Three rings and the call went through.

  “Violent Crimes.”

  In her softest, most ladylike voice she said, “Detective Roger Wheeler, please.”

  “You got him.”

  Excited that at last she was having some luck, she gave Blade a thumbs up. “This is Rachel Franklin from the Lake Shore Ladies' League.”

  “What can I do for you Miss Franklin?”

  “That's Mrs.”

  “What can I do for you?” he repeated

  “Our League is very concerned with crime.”

  “You're reporting a crime?”

  “We want to prevent one.”

  “I need details.”

  “I'd like you to speak to our group about street safety.”

  “You what?” Wheeler sounded aggrieved. “I have cases to work. Call the community officer.”

  With that he hung up.

  “Rude fellow,” Blade said.

  “I did get enough this time, right?”

  “He said a whole lot more than your stalker did in the message we picked up at your office.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “Two down, two to go. Now if only I could get through to Victor Churchill. I wonder if that secretary of his ever takes a break.”

  “All you can do is keep trying.”

  She tried again. No deal.

  “Maybe there's another way to get to Churchill,” she mused.

  “And that would be?”

  “Maria Savage is performing here Friday night,” she said, thinking about using the local jazz singer's concert to her own advantage. “I've attended one of her performances. There was plenty of press.” Incentive for a man of some social standing to attend. “According to his ex-wife, Churchill likes showing his friends a good time. What if we messenger him an invitation for VIP seating, good for... say six?”

  “You want to bring a potential criminal onto our turf?”

  “That might be the only way I can get to him.”

  “He could be dangerous.”

  “He'll never recognize me.”

  “I thought you were comfortable at a distance.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “You're not going anywhere near him.”

  Telling herself that Blade was merely showing his concern rather than being controlling, Lynn said, “Someone has to get close enough to record him. I want to be the one to help nail him if he's guilty. Besides, no one really looks at their waitress.”

  “Unless the waitress looks like you do.”

  Smiling at Blade, Lynn circumvented his objection. “Then we're agreed?”

  “Maybe Gideon won't agree.”

  “I'll foot the bill.” She was trying not to get exasperated. “Now, what do we do about Johnny Rincon? I can't exactly call Carla and ask her for his cell phone number. If she even has it.”

  “Try Skipper's, a local bar. He hangs out there.”

  “You wouldn't have the number?” When he shrugged, she let directory assistance put her through.

  “Skipper here.”
/>
  “Of course you are,” she said, making her voice flirty. “But is Johnny there?”

  “Johnny who?”

  She sighed heavily. “Who else? Johnny Rincon, of course.”

  “Nope. Ain't seen him today. If you want, you can leave a message.”

  “I'll try later, Skipper, sugar.” She hung up and locked gazes with Blade. “This doesn't seem to be my day.”

  “Rincon'll show. Skipper's is his home away from home.”

  “Or... I could send him tickets to the performance, as well.”

  “Not a good idea.”

  Though a thrill of trepidation washed through her, she insisted, “I think it is.”

  “Johnny's dangerous.”

  “I want my life back. Besides, even if he does recognize me—which he won't—what can he do in a crowd?”

  “What can't he do?” Blade countered. “We haven't given the telephone a fair shot. Tomorrow afternoon you might get both Churchill and Rincon.”

  “What if I don't?”

  His expression darkened and his jaw visibly clenched. “You still need to rethink the whole concert idea.”

  It was clear exactly how dangerous he thought Rincon might be. The thrill warped into a shiver of apprehension and suddenly Lynn got cold feet.

  “All right, I'll think about it,” she agreed.

  Knowing that, in the end, she would do whatever she must to take back her life.

  Chapter Nine

  As he mixed drinks that night, Blade tried to believe that Lynn would listen to him about Johnny Rincon. She didn't know who she was dealing with when it came to that scum.

  Too bad she couldn't have reached him by telephone, because then maybe they could be sure about him one way or the other. They'd sent the audio files of Cooper and Wheeler's recorded voices to Logan and should have an answer about them sometime the next day.

  All of which reminded him that he hadn't gotten back to Leroy, so on his first break, Blade made for the security office and used Logan's phone. Unfortunately, the man wasn't home, so he called Skipper's again and gave the owner his story about needing to speak to Leroy about a car.

  And when Leroy got on the phone, he played right along. “I might have a lead on that Corvette you wanted. It's a little shaky, though.”

  Blade knew the man had to be cautious about what he said in the likely event that someone would report anything suspicious back to Johnny. He'd noted the way the background sound had dropped, as if every ear in the bar was attuned to Leroy's conversation.