His Captivating Confidante (Secret Sentinels) (4 page)

He’d already lost one woman he cared about to this quest. He couldn’t lose another.

She was watching him now, her head tilted as she considered his words. “So you’re telling me you
haven’t
been avoiding me since your return to New York?”

“I’m sorry if it seems like I’ve been shunning you, but that wasn’t my intent. A lot has changed in my life in a very short time, and I’ve just been a little preoccupied.”

“So you’re really okay with us being coworkers?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She shrugged, fidgeting with the silver locket she wore. “You always treat me like a hothouse flower. I figured you wouldn’t approve of my career choice, considering the risk involved.”

“Protecting other people is always going to entail a certain element of danger. That doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re up to the task. I believe in you, Steph. I always have. I’m sorry if it seems like I’m overprotective, but you’re my friend. It’s only natural that I want to look out for you.”

“I know. I can’t remember a time when you haven’t watched out for me. You’re like the big brother I never had. But I can take care of myself.”

Frank swiped a hand across his face. Ha! If she had any idea where his thoughts had ventured when he’d held her in his arms on the dance floor tonight, she’d retract the ‘big brother’ part of her statement in a heartbeat. There’d been nothing brotherly about those ruminations.

He forced himself to slip back into surrogate-sibling mode. “I just want to be there for you, Steph.”

“And I want you to be, but you need to let me stand on my own two feet. Enough with the coddling, okay?”

He nodded his agreement, and she flashed him a grateful smile.

“Does it seem strange working for Sentinels after all the globetrotting you did with the CIA?” she asked, steering the conversation in a different direction.

“No. Sentinels is going to be a great fit for me.”

The last case he’d worked for the CIA had unearthed a snake pit of criminal activity that had cost his partner her life. After his superiors blocked him from chasing down a lead that could have netted the man responsible for Pamela’s death, he’d quickly realized their motivation for stonewalling his investigation had been purely political.

His failure to back off the case he’d been neck-deep in hadn’t played well, and he’d found himself yanked him from it. The knowledge that politics carried more clout than justice had made his decision to part company with the CIA an easy one.

He’d resigned and taken Liz up on her long-standing offer to join her covert protection firm. His new career choice, however, didn’t mean that he’d given up on getting to the bottom of his partner’s murder.

Shoving those distracting thoughts aside, he turned his attention back to Stephanie. “I’m really glad I made the move to Sentinels, but I have to admit I never imagined I’d find myself working alongside one of my closest friends. You’ve got game in the field, Kitten.”

Color washed across her gorgeously sculpted cheekbones at his praise. “If I do, it’s because I was trained by the best. Liz is amazing.”

“That she is,” he agreed. “You’re pretty amazing yourself. You did great tonight. And I’m not just referring to your performance on the laser course. You did an excellent job dealing with Landers.”

“Thank you. That means a lot. It would mean even more if you had trusted me to do my job instead of showing up at the charity gala to play the role of my keeper.”

“That’s not what I was doing,” he refuted. She quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, and he sighed in resignation. “Okay, so maybe I
was
checking up on you. But that’s not the only reason I attended the benefit. I promise. I’ll explain everything over dinner.”

He placed their pizza order on his cell phone as they rode the elevator to the top of the high-rise building, disconnecting the call just as the elevator arrived on his floor. As he was about to insert his key into the lock he paused, his shoulders stiffening.

The scratch on his previously flawless brass door lock was a minute detail . . . one that would have escaped most people’s notice. But to him the marred hardware was an in-your-face warning that was as attention grabbing as a railroad signal flashing notice that a locomotive was about to barrel through the crossing.

The blemish was a subtle but unmistakable sign that someone had attempted to breach his apartment.

He didn’t doubt for a moment that the continued digging he’d done into the case his CIA superiors had ordered him to drop was what had brought that someone—or
someones
—to his doorstep. He’d known it was only a matter of time before his extracurricular nosing around attracted the wrong kind of attention. He’d been counting on it, actually.

But the last thing he wanted was for Stephanie to get caught in the crossfire of the war he’d started.

Stepping away from the door, he took her arm and led her back toward the elevators.

“I need you to go back to the car and wait for me there,” he told her, keeping his voice low so as not to tip off whoever might be lying in wait inside his penthouse.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I may have an uninvited guest,” he told her.

Her lips parted in a soft
O
of surprise. “Then I’m going in with you,” she asserted.

“Absolutely not,” he refuted in a whispered hiss.

“Might I remind you that I’m armed and you’re not? While your martial-arts skills are impressive, you’re operating at a disadvantage with that shoulder. What if there’s more than one intruder? I doubt you’re up to a full-scale kung fu fest at the moment.”

He shook his head in mute disagreement and moved toward the door.

She grabbed his hand, holding him back. “I’ve been trained to handle situations like this, just like you. Don’t shut me out,” she urged.

It was the plea in her eyes that was his undoing. Though her persistence annoyed him, he was forced to concede she had a point. With a curt nod, he surrendered to the inevitable.

She unholstered her weapon. “I’ll go in first.”

He drew the line at that. “No way. I’ll take the lead. My house. My rules.”

She opened her mouth to argue the point, but the take-no-prisoners look he shot her froze the protest before she had a chance to utter it. He waited until she stepped behind him before silently approaching the door.

Stephanie’s heart hammered a frantic tattoo against her ribcage, every nerve ending in her body humming on high alert as Frank inserted his key in the lock. Taking a steadying breath, she told herself she was prepared for whatever—or whoever—might be waiting on the other side of the door.

Frank turned to her and signaled he was ready to enter, sending her cantering heartbeat racing into a full-out gallop.

What if she froze like she had the last time she was in a real-life tactical situation with him?

She simply could not let that happen again.

Tamping down her doubts, she followed close on Frank’s heels as he entered the penthouse swiftly and aggressively, making the most of the element of surprise.

Aside from indulging his passion for high-end performance vehicles, Frank’s only other nod to the billions in his bank account—courtesy of the Ireland family fortune—was his ultra-luxurious penthouse. His posh home reflected his innate sense of style and his penchant for orderliness—orderliness that, to her immense relief, appeared undisturbed and free from interlopers.

Despite the fact that everything seemed perfectly untouched, he scoured each room before giving the all clear.

“False alarm,” he told her with a wry grin. “I’m guess I’m getting paranoid in my old age.”

“You’re hardly archaic, and I don’t think you’re being paranoid. Is it possible someone
was
here and just did a good job of covering his tracks? You’re sure nothing is missing?”

“I’m sure,” he nodded, taking off his blazer and shedding his tie. “I spotted a mark on the door hardware that I never noticed before and I jumped to the conclusion that someone had tried to pick the lock. I must have just nicked it with my key at some point and not realized it. At any rate, it’s all good. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, and I’ll get us something to drink. What’s your pleasure?”

His question was accompanied by a smile that had her heart tumbling in ecstasy.

That megawatt grin . . . did he know its power?

She watched, mesmerized, as he undid the top buttons of his dress shirt. The punch of that smile along with the purely sensual impact of the tantalizing V of tanned, toned skin gradually being displayed was a lethal combination.

He already had her off-balance enough without introducing alcohol into the equation, so she opted for a tamer beverage. “Iced tea would be great, if you have it.”

“Coming right up.”

Sinking into the overstuffed sectional that was the focal point of his exquisitely appointed living room, she toed off her stilettos with a blissful sigh and let the tension of the day melt away.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Frank poured iced tea into two frosted glasses, hating himself for having lied to Stephanie so blatantly. Deception wasn’t a part of his makeup, but if he’d admitted his home had been breached, she would have peppered him with a barrage of well-intentioned questions. And she would have undoubtedly wanted to delve into the why behind the break-in. One lie was bad enough. He didn’t want to spin an entire web of them.

Besides, this was his vendetta, not hers. He fully intended to avenge his partner’s death, but he wouldn’t loop Stephanie into the mess he was wrapped up in and risk her meeting the same fate Pamela had.

He was certain his uninvited guest—or guests—hadn’t left any prints behind, but they
had
been sloppy in a couple of respects. There was the telltale scratch on the door lock, and also a desk drawer they’d left slightly ajar. Thanks to their carelessness, he now had confirmation he was on the right track with his investigation.

For the moment, he needed to focus his efforts on the challenge at hand. It was crucial he convince Stephanie to let him accompany her to Damon Landers’s private island. His presence there was vital, not only to insulate her from Landers, but also so he could access the information that would lead him to the man who’d taken Pamela’s life—and very nearly his.

Every hard-earned clue he’d dug up since the attack pointed to Landers being the key to solving the puzzle of who had ordered the assault against them.

His plan to insert himself into Stephanie’s assignment was a dicey one. Keeping her close to him without giving her the chance to deduce his real agenda would require some intricate maneuvering.

And since part of that agenda involved validating his suspicion that Stephanie’s father, Aaron Knight, had kept an integral facet of his life a secret from his daughter—a suspicion he had yet to share with Stephanie—the dicey factor was doubled.

Carrying the drinks out to the living room, he joined her on the sectional. She was wearing her signature scent, an intoxicating blend of peaches and spring rain showers that suited her perfectly. The fragrance was fresh and sweet and innocent. Like her.

She could play dress-up all she liked. Looking the part of a sultry femme fatale did nothing to camouflage her true innocence.

He’d been a senior in high school when he’d learned his adorably shy and bookish friend had a crush on him. He’d been flattered—even more flattered when Stephanie offered to break the vow of abstaining from sex until marriage that it was common knowledge she and some other sophomore girls had taken.

He’d turned her down, of course. Not that he hadn’t been incredibly tempted, but he never would have taken advantage of her that way. Nor was he willing to jeopardize their friendship when he’d been certain she would have regretted the impulsive move in the light of day.

His rebuttal of her little seduction play had put an awkward strain on their relationship for a time, but they’d gotten past it and their friendship had grown all the stronger for it.

He handed her one of the chilled glasses of iced tea, and she accepted it with a smile.

“Thank you. And thanks for giving me the chance to try out for your team. It’s nice to do something besides work, for a change.”

“I imagine between your schedule at the library and your commitment to the agency that your days are really hectic.”

She nodded. “I’m zanily busy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The chiming of his doorbell interrupted their conversation. Dinner had arrived. On his way to the door, he surreptitiously checked his security system. Even though his gut feeling was that the break-in had simply been a reconnaissance mission, in his line of work it paid to be cautious.

The feed from his surveillance camera revealed an innocuous-appearing young man holding a pizza box. Collecting the food, he paid the delivery boy and added a generous tip.

“It smells heavenly,” Stephanie enthused when he set the pizza between them on the coffee table.

“Dig in,” he invited.

Her groan of appreciation as she sampled her first bite had his gut clenching in reaction. Her sexy vocalizations had his thoughts shifting quite inappropriately to satin sheets and intertwined body parts.

He shook his head, disgusted with where his mind had trespassed.

This is Steph, for crying out loud. She’s a friend, not a potential lover.

He really needed to dial back the sudden flood of excess testosterone that had him reacting so uncharacteristically to her.

“My taste buds are swooning,” she enthused, interrupting his reproving thoughts. Setting her pizza down, she met his gaze. “I missed you,” she told him with heart-wrenching candor. “I worried about you every single day while you were gone. When you stopped e-mailing . . .” she trailed off, her voice breaking.

His breath hitched in his chest at the emotion pooled in the depths of her gorgeous amaretto eyes. “I was deep undercover. I would have kept in touch if I could have, but it wasn’t possible.”

“The rational part of my brain recognized that, but it didn’t stop me from imagining every possible worst-case scenario. I was so afraid something awful had happened to you.”