Soft Target (16 page)

So she stayed behind the bar and talked to the guys. Every time her gaze wandered to the corner, every time she saw him staring, her skin heated and her mouth watered, and her temper built. Of course he was watching her. It was his
job
.

Raw by the time she closed, she wanted to be alone. Hoping he’d get the hint, she disappeared into the janitorial closet without a word. He was still there when she emerged.

“My parents are anxious to know more about you,” he said as he set chairs atop the tables.

She froze. “Why?”

He sighed. “They asked if I was seeing someone, and I told them about you.”

“Did you
tell
them?”

“Of course not. As far as they know, we’re dating.”

“Do they know why you’re here?” she asked as she swept the floor.

“They think I’m taking advantage of my leave to explore safer career options.”

“I guess mercenary could be considered a career option,” she snapped.

“Mercenary tax lawyer. I like it.”

How dare he joke about this? It wasn’t funny. She wheeled around and stopped at the grim look on his face. “What?”

“I hate lying to people I care about.”

He’d been okay lying to her. “It’s nice to know where I stand.”

The chair crashed to the floor as he wheeled on her. “Fine. I’m an ass because I tried to solve a problem on my own. God knows no one else in this room has ever done that.”

“That’s not the only reason you’re an ass,” she muttered.

He stalked toward her, pointing a finger in her face. “
You
were the one climbing me like a tree and sticking your tongue down my throat knowing you were about to marry someone else.”

Her conscience twinged, but her anger stomped on her guilt. This was not her fault. He was the one who’d been pretending.

“Roger and I—”

“You aren’t fucking married to fucking
Roger
,” he snarled as he towered over her. “
He
had the good sense to run.”

His words bit into her, stinging her skin and stealing her breath. Bitter bile coated her tongue as her pulse pounded in her ears. Rather than breaking the mop over his nose, she dropped it and walked away.

“That isn’t what I meant. Honey—”

She stopped on the back landing, frozen by the pain the endearment inflicted. He’d called her that at the altar, smiling like he’d been
happy
to marry her. Hot tears burned her eyes. “
Never
call me that.”

His steps creaked at the top of the hallway, and light flooded the space. Batting her eyes against the glare helped delay the tears. She kept her back to the wall as she put one foot on the bottom step. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

His mouth was set in a hard line, and his nod was sharp. “I’ll set the alarm on my way out.”

Maggie scampered upstairs, closed and locked the door and stood with her back to it, blocking it as if he was going to charge up here and force his way in. Instead, the alarm keys beeped in a quick sequence. The outside door closed, and the dead bolt slammed home.

Moving automatically through her routine, she ignored her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Adrenaline left her muscles, and she collapsed against the pillows and waited for sleep.

Hours later, tired of wrestling the knots from her sheets, she reached for the light and her book. She’d read one page for the third time when deafening screeches filled the air.

“Dammit. Damn him and his stupid damn alarm.”

Stomping downstairs, she invented new curses on every riser. When the system took a breath, glass shattered and a crash echoed through the space.

“What the hell?” She stormed into the main room just as a rock sailed through the window. She ducked to the floor to avoid being struck in the head.
Where’s Max?

The stone artillery barrage continued, punctuating the mindless screech of the alarm. The vandal was methodically, rapidly, breaking every window.

It stopped when he reached the front of the building and ran out of windows. Maggie’s shoulders sagged. It was over. Boots crashed on the front steps and the porch, rushing toward the door. It wasn’t over. He was coming in.

Chapter Twenty

“‘Lo?” Gray mumbled into his phone as he pried his eyes open. The satellite TV had turned itself off, his book was on the floor and the lamp bathed his chair in a too bright glow.

An alarm squealed on the other end of the line, deafening him. Panic rose as he read the name displayed. “Maggie?”

Glass shattered in the background. He kept the phone glued to his ear as he fumbled for his shoes.
I never should have left her alone. What was I thinking?

“Glen will be there in a few minutes. I’m leaving now.” A faint whimper filled him with relief while breaking his heart. “Hide and stay quiet. I’ll put you on speaker while I drive, but I will
not
hang up the phone. Stay with me.”

He skidded to a stop at the closet, almost ripping the door from its hinges in the grab for a jacket and his gun. The garage door moved in slow motion. He threw the vehicle in reverse and let the truck scrape the bottom of the door. Burying his foot into the accelerator, he forced forward momentum as the gears choked and stuttered.

He put a level note into his voice and plastered a smile onto his face. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Stay put.”

The line went dead.

“What the
fuck
?”

He snatched the phone and hovered his thumb over her speed-dial number a second before tossing it away. Calling would give away her location. He wouldn’t betray her. Not again. Instead, he focused on the narrow patch of asphalt revealed by his headlights. As he took the courthouse roundabout in the wrong direction and barreled down Broadway, the alarm’s screams reached out and squeezed the air from his lungs.

He killed the engine without putting the truck in park and the chassis shuddered as it yanked to a stop. The gun in his hand was a comforting weight as he leaped up the stairs.

“Glen?”

“Shut off that racket.”

It took two tries before the room fell silent. Then the panicked chorus started.

“Maggie? Maggie? Mag-gie!”

Glen stayed near the door. “Why the hell wasn’t she with you?”

“We had a fight.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Chet came in like Rambo and the sirens scared him off.”

Every law enforcement professional in town was dissolving further into panic with every unanswered call.

“Shh.” Gray put up a hand. Half the guys obeyed, the other half didn’t. “Hey!” he barked. “Shut the hell up.”

In the ensuing silence, the glass crunched under someone’s feet. A loose remnant clattered to the floor. The curtains drifted in the breeze, ghostly shadows in the dark.

Max came into view, and Gray pounced. “Where were you?”

“Did you expect me to stand next to my cruiser and pee in the street?”

Massaging his forehead to relieve the building pressure, Gray mumbled an apology.

Now silent, the men stayed in place. He knew they were all thinking the same thing.
She should be in the middle of this, sweeping and fussing about us cutting ourselves. Something is wrong, and it’s all my fault.

He dialed her number, and the muted tones of Darth Vader’s “Imperial March” drifted through the space. The call connected, leaving him weak with relief. “I’m here.”

When hinges creaked, one of the deputies shined a flashlight toward the storage closet. The beam made her hair darker as she squinted and flinched from the glare. He pushed the gun into his pocket and sprinted toward her, ignoring the crunch of glass under his feet.

She was already sliding to the floor and he slid with her, wrapping his arms around her shaking torso and pulling her to him. Her heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his fingers. Then again, maybe it was his.

Resting his cheek against her hair, he filled his lungs with her perfume. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

“This is what you warned me about, isn’t it?”

“Between yesterday and this morning, he knows he’s lost his edge. He’s fighting to find it again.” He traced and retraced her spine. He couldn’t quit touching her. “I’ll catch him.”

“I know you will.” Her voice turned sleepy and her body softened as the adrenaline dissipated. God, this is what he’d wanted for weeks, her sleepy and soft in his arms.

Asshole.

He stood and pulled her with him, walking her to the bar and letting her decide where she wanted to be. She came back to him, resting her shoulder against his chest, warming him from the inside out. He removed his jacket and tied it around her waist.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked. “You’re in your pajamas.”

He sat, looking from his ugly scars to his octogenarian slippers. Her weight settled against his thigh. “I’m fine.”

Glen interrupted their whispered conversation. “Tell me what happened.”

“The alarm blared, and I heard the windows breaking when I came downstairs.”

Gray kept hold of her hand even though her fingers were threatening his circulation. After a moment, she continued. “After he broke all the windows, he ran for the front door and I bolted for the closet. I heard him behind the bar, like he was sliding his hand along the shelves to push the glasses to the floor.”

Her story jerked to a halt, and Gray followed her gaze to the door. Nate and Faith were standing on the edge of the chaos. Nate’s pallor matched his sister’s, but where her gaze was distracted and vague with shock, his was lethal.

While Glen continued his questions, Gray slid his thumb along the top of Maggie’s hand. He’d intended to comfort her, instead he felt the fragile bones under her soft skin. He knew how Nate felt.

She finished and blinked up at him. He stared at her bare toes.

“Stay put a minute.”

He strode to the back door and the coat tree she’d hidden behind hours earlier. A pair of galoshes were shoved into the corner.

She shook her head as he returned to the bar. “I’m not wearing those with my pajamas.”

He shrugged and stooped, hooking her knees in his elbow.

“What are you doing?” She squirmed away.

“Wear the galoshes or I’m carrying you.” He straightened. “You’re lucky your feet aren’t cut to ribbons already.”

* * *

With a disgusted sigh, Maggie stuffed her feet into the stiff rubber boots and stomped down the hall, gathering all the dignity she could muster with her six-two shadow looming behind her.

As they climbed the stairs, the risers creaked behind them as if their earlier ugly words were following them.

All the lights were on. It had been dark when she’d come down.

“Who’s here?” The thin voice asking wasn’t recognizable. Was someone in her home?

His hand was warm at her back, and he kept it there, moving to follow her when she flinched away. “The guys had to search up here. It’s okay.”

“Okay? Have you seen my bar? I don’t know how you could say—”

His fingers on her lips stopped her tirade. “I’m never going to say the right thing, am I?” His muttered question silenced her more than his fingers. “What I
meant
is you’re safe.”

When his sentence ended, so did the contact. She missed it. He’d been touching her since she’d emerged from her hiding spot, and now the air was cold between them again.

“Can I have my jacket, please? My service weapon is in the pocket.”

“You gave me your gun?” As she untied and surrendered the windbreaker, she felt the uneven weight. “What if I’d shot you?”

“I would have deserved it.”

“It’s—”

“Don’t say ‘it’s okay, Graham’ like I broke a plate.”

He moved closer, and she stared at the angry red tissue atop his collarbone. It ended in a webbing of scars covering his shoulder. She backed up, and his sigh followed her. Dark stubble covered his jaw, tempting her fingers, as did the wild arrangement of his hair. Regret etched every angle of his face and darkened his eyes.

When she stayed silent, his voice softened even if his face didn’t. “I’ve said some horrible things to you today. But worse was leaving you alone because I was angry. I had good reason to believe our...marriage would escalate things.”

“Max was outside.”

“You’re my responsibility. I let you down. I’d like to promise it won’t happen again, but I can’t. I have a bit of a temper.”

The belated confession made her laugh. “Duh.” Since they were confessing... “So do I.”

“Duh.” White teeth slashed through dark stubble. When his smile disappeared, he didn’t look as tired. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I’ve made this more difficult for you than it should’ve been.”

“No more arguments. You’ll sleep in the guest room, but you’ll be where I can keep an eye on you.”

“But—”

“What part of not arguing do you not get?” he chided her. “You’re not staying here alone, and we’ll be on top of each other if I move in.”

On top of her.
Her breath stuttered as memories of his maddening kisses filled her brain. She had to get this under control. Despite those stolen moments and the ring on her finger, she was nothing but a job. A promise to her brother. At least at the house there would be room to avoid each other. “Okay.”

Construction noise seeped through the floor and invaded the quiet between them. Nate’s tense directions drifted up the stairs. He and Faith should be home, not managing repairs on her property. “Do you need to do anything downstairs?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’ll meet with Glen tomorrow. We can leave as soon as you’re packed.”

Maggie skirted around him to reach her bedroom. Standing in the closet, she blinked at the line of clothes. How on earth was she supposed to—
You aren’t moving in. You’ll be back here tomorrow.
Changing into jeans and a T-shirt, she threw her pajamas into her backpack.

In the bathroom, she stared at the myriad of bottles and picked up the travel pouch of samples she’d taken to Vegas. It would do.

Her bodyguard was asleep on her sofa. His ankles rested on one armrest and his neck on the other, leaving his feet and head to dangle precariously.

“Graham?” When he didn’t stir, she sat on her coffee table and stared. Sleep had dissolved his worry. She hated to do this, but he deserved a bed and the chance for real rest. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she nudged him and watched his head bobble. She hoped it didn’t break his neck. “Graham?”

His eyes flew open, startling in their intensity. “I fell asleep.”

“You did. Would you rather stay here?”

“No.” He swung upright and glared at the backpack.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” she said. “I’ll pick up more later.”

Protection must trump chivalry in the bodyguard handbook, because he went downstairs first. His height obscured her view until they entered the great room. Her beige twill curtains were ripped and dangling from broken rods, craters had been knocked into the plaster, and grooves had been gouged into tables. Lemon-sized rocks dotted the glass-littered floor, and crime scene tape crisscrossed the door frame. Carl was already there, nailing plywood over the window frames. He waved, and she waved back.

She leaned into Graham’s reassuring presence. His forward movement encouraged hers until glass crunched under her feet.

“Think about it tomorrow,” he whispered. “Let’s go home.”

Home. With Graham.
Her legs wobbled.
No, that’s not right. He’ll leave and I’ll be alone there. It’s not my home. I’m not his wife, not really. I’m his job.
She blamed the self-pity on shock and looked for a distraction to stop the building tears.

She found it in Nate’s cold stare and stiff jaw.

“Why was she here?” He talked over her head.

“Don’t use that tone with him, and don’t talk about me like I’m not standing here. It wasn’t his fault.”

Graham blinked down at her. “Yeah, it kinda was.”

“And now?” Nate snapped.

“She’s moving in where I can keep an eye on her.”

Gritting her teeth, she ignored the softness inspired by Graham’s weary gaze and drowsy smile. “You don’t get to treat me like I’m invisible either. And I’m not moving in. Staying at Faye’s will make your job easier.” She pushed past Nate. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Shelby caught herself before she slammed the locker’s flimsy metal door. There was more to Gray’s marriage than he was telling her. Who the hell eloped in separate cars?

Taking a deep breath, she stared into the cloudy mirror and tightened the knot in her hair until tears stung.
Quiet, calm, mousy Elaine.

Rattling and banging led her to the kitchen, where Carl was tossing metal pans into a cabinet. He looked up with a snarl. “I did
everything
for her and she ended up with someone who can’t even take care of her!”

“Is that why you’re late?” Rick asked as he came around the corner. “And keep it down back here, just because it’s the graveyard shift doesn’t mean we’re actually a graveyard.” He looked her way. “And nice to see you too. Don’t let it happen again. Shirley was pissed as hell she had to stay late because you overslept.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison. When he was gone, Carl went back to tossing things. “Now I’m in trouble because I had to clean up
his
mess. He’s all wrong for her. If she’d just waited. But no-o-o.
Gray
whisked her off to Vegas and—”

Shelby whipped her gaze to his face. “Maggie is your girlfriend?”

“You know her?”

“I know her new husband. We’ve known each other really well for a long, long time.” Shelby imbued every syllable with innuendo.

Out of clean things to throw, Carl slid an avalanche of serving utensils into the dishwater. “I keep trying to be happy for her, that she found someone to help her get her money, but he
cheated
to get her. I know he did. I just can’t figure out how.”

Shelby pulled up a chair and patted the seat. “Maybe I can help you. Come tell me all about it.”