The Bodyguard (12 page)

Luke watched her intently. “I notice you haven’t said anything
about your other brother-in-law during all this time. Do you feel Daniel’s
innocent, too?”

She frowned. “Honestly, I have no idea. Daniel is
more...self-contained than Grant. He’s always treated me politely, respectfully.
But he didn’t come to the mansion very often. I really don’t know that much
about him except that he’s not married. Daniel and Grant are in many ways
opposites. With Grant, you know what you’re getting. With Daniel, he’s all
manners and self-control.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Richard
was very controlled, too. I guess that’s one of the reasons I can’t come to any
conclusions about Daniel. They seemed so much alike.”

“Well, Cornell is looking into both of them,” Alex said. “He
was excited, hoping he’d caught his man earlier, but he’s keeping an open mind
and making sure his team explores every possible lead.”

“What all did Grant tell you?” Luke asked.

“He reiterated what he’d already told Cornell. He basically
admitted to breaking into both houses and assaulting both of you.”

“I don’t want to press charges for that,” Carol said.

Luke cursed.

Alex shot him a warning look. “That’s for you to discuss with
Cornell. It would be a conflict of interest for me to talk about that. I will,
however, tell you that Grant’s main hang-up seems to be about the will. He’s
convinced the will that was filed was fake and that his brother wouldn’t have
left him only five million dollars. He wanted me to try to get a search warrant
for the mansion. He’s convinced the will is hidden inside.”

“Would a judge go along with that?” Luke asked.

“Highly unlikely, and that’s what I told Grant. Unless he has
some kind of proof, no judge will want to get embroiled in that kind of mess.
When I told him that, he got upset and said he should hire Leslie Harrison to
represent him. He said Leslie represented Richard in a dispute with the IRS last
year and won. He figured if she could beat the IRS, she could get a judge to
look into the will. I reminded him Harrison isn’t a criminal lawyer. I also told
him if she was his lawyer I wouldn’t be. I’ve never cared much for Miss Harrison
and how she does business and I don’t want to be associated with her
professionally.”

Carol frowned. “What’s he going to do?”

“I don’t know. He’s in an odd state of mind right now, hard to
reason with. I think he knows more than he’s telling. I know you want me to
protect him, but he’s his own worst enemy. Hopefully my warnings to him to not
say anything else to Cornell will sink in. I’ll come back in the morning and
talk to him after he’s had a chance to sleep on everything.”

Alex stood to leave. “Oh, I almost forgot. Cornell said to tell
you that you’re free to go. His lead detective wanted to discuss the
investigation with him and he wasn’t sure how late he’d be. He’ll call you if he
has more questions about what happened today.”

“Thank you, Alex,” Carol said. “For everything.”

“My pleasure.” He shook their hands and left.

Luke sat back in his chair and considered Carol. “We’ve had an
incredibly full night and day. Any idea where you want to go this time? As your
bodyguard, I’m advising you not to go to any of your husband’s holdings, no
matter how much you believe no one knows about them. And I think we need to pick
up a rental car just to be sure no other GPS trackers are hanging around.”

“I’ll leave the destination up to you this time. I’d like
nothing better than one night without worrying about some madman finding me. But
first, we need to stop at the mansion here in town.”

“To get more clothes?”

“No. To get Richard’s will.”

Chapter Eleven

It was late afternoon by the time Luke and Carol arrived at the mansion, or at least, arrived a block away and parked on a side street while they surveyed the mass of news vans and reporters surrounding the estate.

“Good grief,” Carol said. “The press has never been this bad before.”

“Murder sells.” He glanced at his watch. “We’re five minutes early. Are you sure you want to go in there? We can leave right now, rent a car, hole up in a hotel somewhere.”

“A hotel hardly seems like the place to hide out. I’d think the paparazzi have lookouts all over town. A hotel is one of the first places they’d expect me to go.”

“Not if you’re in disguise.”

“Hmm. Maybe. But the point is moot for now. Because I’m not going anywhere but the mansion. I have to find that will.”

“You’ve been secretive about the alleged will since dropping that bomb on me back at the police station. I think now is a good time to explain why you’re suddenly so sure there
is
another will.”

“It just makes sense. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that Richard would never leave his fortune to me, not after the first six months of our marriage, at least. I wasn’t...important to him as a person. I was an object, his property, to control. He wouldn’t have wanted to risk leaving his legacy to me. He wouldn’t expect I’d be intelligent enough or capable enough to keep his businesses on the right track. He would have left the bulk of the estate to his brothers. Which means, there must be another will inside, in his papers somewhere.”

“Possible, but he had Leslie as his personal lawyer on retainer. Why not file the will if he went to the trouble of drawing up another one?”

“Good question.”

“I’m not sure I understand why you’d want to find the will, assuming it exists.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a billionaire. If what you say about an alternate will is true, you could lose everything. Why would you risk that?”

“Because it wouldn’t be right. If the money belongs to someone else, they should have it.”

“We’re talking about Grant and Daniel here. Grant tried to kill you—”

“Allegedly.”

“He held a freaking knife to your throat. Twice. He left you dangling off a balcony.”

She winced. “Okay. Good points.”

“And Daniel hasn’t exactly come around to check on his beloved widowed sister-in-law after news of Richard’s treatment of you leaked to the press. Neither of them seem particularly deserving of a massive change in fortune. On the other hand, you lived through hell and deserve every penny.”

She looked out the windshield. “I can see where you might feel that way. But it’s not like I could ever enjoy the money, knowing what I went through to get it. Don’t you see? Everything I have reminds me of Richard.” She held up her carefully manicured nails. “He dictated the color of my nail polish and how long my nails should be.” She grabbed a handful of her long hair and held it up. “I’m a natural brunette. I never wanted to be blonde, but Richard wanted my hair this color. These clothes—” she waved her hand toward the silky pantsuit she wore “—these clothes were all chosen by Richard. All I want is to resolve this case so I can be safe once and for all. And then I want to go away somewhere, anywhere, someplace that doesn’t remind me of him. If I buy another house, or new clothes, I’m buying them with his money. How will I ever truly escape him that way?”

Luke gently pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I always seem to say or do the wrong thing around you. It’s none of my business what you do with the money or how you choose to live your life. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

She took his hand in hers. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me. You don’t deserve to be lambasted for asking an obvious question.” She shook her head. “But I just want to make sure the rightful owner of the money gets it. I want to be done with it so nothing ever comes back to haunt me later. I want to be free.”

“You will be. Soon.”

“I hope so. Too much has happened too fast. I just want to search the obvious places in the mansion to see if I can find a will. And then I want to get out of here. We can go wherever you think we’ll be safe and won’t be bothered by the press.”

“Okay. Leave that to me. This won’t be the first time I’ve had to sneak a client out from under watchful eyes and take them to a safe house.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Here they come. Get ready. As soon as the press realizes what’s happening, they’ll be all over us.”

She clutched her purse in her hand and grasped the door handle. “I’m ready.”

A black Suburban pulled up beside them per the plan. Another one pulled up behind them. The doors popped open and half a dozen Stellar Security guards jumped out, surrounding Carol as she got out of the car.

Just as Luke had predicted, the press saw the Suburbans and started running toward them, aiming their cameras in their direction.

Carol hopped into the lead truck and it took off toward the mansion. Luke cursed and tossed the two bags that contained his and Carol’s clothes into the back of the second truck and jumped in.

“Hurry up,” he growled as the woman he was supposed to be guarding pulled farther away.

* * *

C
AROL
SLID
THE
bottom drawer of Richard’s desk closed and plopped down in his leather chair. She’d searched every place she could think of for another will but hadn’t found anything. At this point, she was inclined to think maybe Luke was right. Grant was just desperate for funds and had convinced himself the will that had been filed was a fake.

Luke walked into the office and propped himself on the edge of the desk. “I searched the master bedroom like you asked, top to bottom. Nothing. Even the wall safe is empty.”

“Empty? It wasn’t locked?”

“No. I pulled on the door handle and it opened right up. I assumed you’d given Cornell and his men the combination when they searched the room the other day and they didn’t relock it.” He frowned. “You didn’t?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t even know the combination. But Richard put papers in that safe all the time. I find it hard to believe he would have left it unlocked. And I’ve never known it to be empty.”

Luke pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll update Cornell. See if he dusted the safe for prints. If he did, and didn’t get any besides Richard’s, I’ll ask him to send a crew out here again and dust every inch of the thing. And then we’re getting out of here. Is there anything you need if we don’t come back for several days?”

“No. My bag from when we went to the country house has everything I need.”

“All right. Wait here. I’ll make that call, and then I’ll arrange our escape from the press.”

* * *

L
UKE
HURRIED
OUT
of the room and waved down one of the housemaids. He made his request and a moment later she came back with an envelope and a sheet of paper. He thanked her, explained what he wanted to do to get Carol safely out of the house, and she ran off again to do what he’d asked.

He was going to call Cornell, but first he had two other calls to make. And since he didn’t want anyone to overhear him, he hurried to the little glassed-in garden off the back of the house that Carol had shown him a few days ago during the house tour. There was a fountain in the middle of the garden that splashed and made enough noise that he felt confident no hidden cameras or spying servants would hear his conversations.

First, he called Trudy at the office. She commiserated with him over Mitch’s death, which made him feel guilty because he hadn’t thought much about Mitch with everything else that was going on. He didn’t have time to grieve for his friend right now, so he forced the emotions aside and gently brought Trudy back to the task at hand. He explained what he needed in detail and had her repeat it back to him. Satisfied she would give his message to his men so they could set his escape plan in motion, he hung up and made his second call.

To Alex.

Guilt gnawed at him again as he waited for Alex to answer. What he was about to do would horrify Carol if she ever found out. He’d made a promise to her, and he’d assured her he never broke his promises. And up to this point, he never had. But after what sheʼd told him about the safe, he knew they were on borrowed time.

Whoever was behind Richard’s death had also managed to break into the house and empty Richard’s safe without anyone knowing, which meant the killer was most likely someone Carol knew and quite possibly trusted. It was Luke’s duty to keep her safe, which meant—in this one instance—he needed to break his promise, because it very well might mean that he would find out the killer’s identity.

“Alex Buchanan,” the voice answered on the phone.

“It’s Luke. I have to make this fast. First, can you ask your investigator to look into Stellar Security?”

“Okay. What’s he supposed to look for?”

“Anything suspicious, anything to do with the Ashtons. I’m getting a weird feeling about Stellar. There have been too many security breaches with them supposedly in charge.”

“All right. You said ‘first.’ What else did you need?”

“A huge favor. I’m going to leave something for you in a van later today. The keys will be under the front bumper in a hide-a-key box. I’m leaving you an envelope under the driver’s seat.” He gave Alex the address of where the van would be.

“Okay. And what am I supposed to do with this envelope?”

“I’m hopeful you can examine the evidence inside it and let me know if you can figure out who broke into the safe in the Ashtons’ master bedroom. I have a feeling whoever broke into the safe is Richard Ashton’s killer.”

“And just what is this evidence that you want me to look at instead of the police?”

Luke glanced around to make sure no one had come into the garden. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the video card Carol had given him back at the country house.

Chapter Twelve

An hour later, Cornell’s CSI team was upstairs dusting the master-bedroom safe and the wall surrounding it, just in case they’d missed any prints the first time. Moments later, a housemaid and one of the Stellar Security guards—dressed in Carolʼs and Luke’s clothes—ran out front to the circular driveway and hopped into the Rolls-Royce, sandwiched between two black Suburbans.

The caravan took off and barreled onto the street.

Just as Luke expected, the press made a mad dash to follow, and soon most of the news vans were racing after the decoy.

Some of the reporters remained, perhaps to ensure their counterparts hadn’t been fooled. But they expected the wealthy socialite would leave the mansion in luxury, driven in one of the estate’s expensive cars. They didn’t pay attention to the pretty young housemaid and coarsely dressed gardener who left by way of the servantsʼ entrance a few minutes later, walking hand in hand down the sidewalk.

When Luke and Carol in their disguises rounded the corner of the next street a couple of blocks over, another Stellar Security truck was waiting for them. They jumped in and rode in the truck a couple of miles away. Then the driver pulled over next to a dark blue Dodge Charger.

“Are you sure you want to do this, ma’am?” the driver asked. “Our company is more than capable of providing the security you need.” His disdainful look wasn’t lost on Luke.

Luke shrugged. “Up to you, Carol. They’ve done a smashup job so far.” He didn’t bother to temper the sarcasm in his voice.

She shook her head. “No, thank you. We’re sticking to our original plan.”

She got out, and Luke followed with their bags. Another security guard got out of the Charger and tossed the keys to Luke. He and Carol got inside, but as soon as the security van turned the corner, they hopped back out. They ran across the street to the parking garage on the corner and ducked inside.

“Where is it?” Carol asked.

“Two rows over, the white van on the end.”

They hurried to the van and Luke grabbed the hide-a-key from under the front bumper. He slid open the side door behind the driver’s seat, tossed in their bags and helped Carol inside. The windows were tinted dark just as Luke had insisted when he’d called two of his men to help him arrange the second half of the escape plan, unbeknownst to Stellar Security. He and Carol changed their clothes, using the clothing his men had gotten for them—T-shirts and jeans.

Carol finished putting her hair into a ponytail, then grinned as she ran her hands over the soft jeans covering her legs. “Richard would have been appalled to see me wearing something so...common.”

Luke smiled, her restored good mood infectious. “That doesn’t seem to bother you.”

“Nope. Not one bit.”

Not content with just one car change, Luke drove them a few more miles outside the historic district of Savannah and they traded cars again. This time they drove a black Camaro.

A few minutes later, with Carol in disguise so no one would recognize her, they signed in at the Hyatt Regency just off River Street as Mr. and Mrs. Carl Johnson.

* * *

C
AROL
WAS
LAUGHING
when they ran into their hotel suite. “That was so much fun. No one knew who I was! We walked past that reporter in the lobby and he looked right through me.”

Luke smiled and set their bags beside the couch. “You should smile more often.”

“Yes. I should!” But her smile faded when he took a straight-backed chair from the table in the kitchenette and propped it under the doorknob.

But he didn’t stop there.

He grabbed two drinking glasses, wrapped them in a dish towel, then set them on the floor. He stomped on them, startling Carol as the glass shattered beneath his shoe.

“Sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you.”

“No problem,” she murmured as she watched him take the towel that was now full of broken glass to the door.

He dumped the contents on the floor and used his shoe to spread it around. He double-checked the locks and made sure the security bar was in place on the door. Then he made a full circuit of the room, even checking into the cabinets in the tiny kitchen.

Carol shook her head in bewilderment as he stood on a chair and checked the air-conditioning vents.

“You don’t honestly think someone could wiggle themselves into the room through those tiny vents, do you?”

“No. But they could get a camera in there.”

The last of her happy mood died a quick death.

He passed her and headed into the bedroom.

She followed, curious to see what else he thought was necessary to ensure her safety and privacy. One thing was certain: none of the Stellar Security guards had ever gone to this kind of trouble for her. Luke’s thoroughness made the danger she was in feel more real than ever, but it also made her feel surprisingly safe and protected. No ill-timed picture was going to leak to the press under Luke’s watch, giving away their location to the killer.

After checking beneath the bed and inside the closets, as well as the vents, Luke headed into the bathroom. Carol stood in the open doorway and watched him rap on the mirror over the sink, and then cup his hands against the mirror and press his face up against his hands.

“Why are you doing that?” she asked.

He straightened. “The mirror is on the wall that’s shared with the next room, so I’m making sure it’s not two-way glass.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. No one even knows I’m here. It’s not like the paparazzi are in the next room trying to catch a picture of me taking a shower.”

“You’d be amazed at some of the lengths they go to for a picture that can earn them thousands of dollars. If a paparazzo bribed the desk clerk downstairs to send us to this room if we came into the hotel, and the clerk recognized us, we could be on camera right now.”

She glanced at the mirror and shivered. “But we’re not. Right?”

He shook his head. “No, we’re not. This suite is as secure as I can make it.” He patted the gun in the holster concealed beneath his leather jacket. “And if the worst happens, I can still protect you. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried, surprisingly. I think I may even be able to sleep tonight without nightmares. I’m exhausted.” She glanced around, noting there was only one bed.

Luke’s mouth crooked up in a half smile. “I didn’t want to blow our married-couple cover or I’d have asked for two beds. I can sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re far too tall for the couch. And, honestly, I’m way too tired to want to sleep on an uncomfortable couch myself. The bed is plenty big enough for both of us.”

His brows rose. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. We’re both adults. I’m sure we can behave ourselves. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a shower.”

* * *

S
LEEPING
TOGETHER
WAS
a terrible idea.

Luke lay awake long after Carol’s breathing had turned deep and even. He was tired and badly needed to get some sleep so he would be alert tomorrow. Or at least, he
was
tired until he’d turned on his side facing her and had noticed how the sliver of moonlight coming in through the curtain traced the soft, delicate curve of her cheek. Or how she made a sexy little moaning sound in her sleep when she shifted her legs, making her long, white nightgown ride up high on her silky thighs, on skin that was flawless.

Except for the bruises.

Even in the dark he could see the outlines of the fading marks her husband had left on her upper arms, her thighs. His hands clenched into fists and he rolled onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. The minutes dragged by.

“Luke?”

He turned his head on the pillow. Carol was facing him and staring at him. He had to force himself not to look down where her neckline gaped, revealing far more of her generous curves than she probably realized.

“Sorry,” he whispered. His voice came out a harsh croak. He cleared his throat. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Her delicate brows arched. “It’s okay. Is something wrong?”

Yes.
“No, of course not. Go back to sleep. I’ll try to stop moving around so much.”

He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything but the beautiful woman lying beside him, or how she smelled like flowers, or that some of her hair was lying across his right shoulder. His fingers curled into his palms against the urge to thread his fingers through the glorious, curly mass.

The bed shifted and he could have sworn she’d moved closer. He could feel her heat curling around him, making him want to pull her closer.

“Luke.”

His eyes flew open. He cautiously turned his head and almost groaned out loud. She
was
closer, almost touching. Her face was just inches from his. All he had to do was roll over and their lips would meet.

He stared at the ceiling again. “Yes?” he rasped.

Her hand slid tentatively across his chest.

He sucked in a sharp breath and looked at her. “Carol, what are you doing?”

She snatched her hand back. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe... I shouldn’t have done that.”

He grabbed her hand, immediately softening his hold when her eyes widened with alarm. He slowly, ever so gently, pulled her hand toward him and placed it back on his chest. If she was any other woman, he’d know exactly what to do right now. He’d interpret that hand as meaning she wanted him, and he knew exactly what to do about
that.
But this was Carol. She was far too good for someone like him, and innocent in every way that mattered.

Her husband had hurt her so much. She probably didn’t even realize how her touch frustrated him and made him want her. And even if that wasn’t a consideration, he was her bodyguard. He needed to stay focused. Sleeping with a client was a huge no-no on so many levels.

So instead of pulling her to him and covering her lips with his, instead of sliding his hand down her back, across her hips, and cupping her round bottom against his growing erection, he kept an iron-tight control on his desires.

“You said you thought...something. What did you think, exactly?” he asked, unable to speak above a rough whisper in spite of his good intentions.

Her hand fluttered beneath his. He reluctantly let it go and she pulled it back. She propped her head on her palm, her gaze falling to his lips.

“I met...
him...
when I was innocent,” she whispered. “I’ve never...been with anyone...else. But with him, it wasn’t... I mean, in the beginning it was very, but then...” She closed her eyes, her voice sighing out on a shaky breath before she opened her eyes again. “I don’t want to be hurt again.”

He waited for her to say more, but she seemed to be struggling for words, and if her face got any redder it might burst into flames. He rolled onto his side and cupped his face in his palm, mirroring her posture. He put his other hand on the bed between them, palm up.

She slowly slid her hand across the sheet and looped her fingers with his.

“Carol?”

“Yes?”

“I would never hurt you.”

A single tear slid down her cheek. “I know,” she whispered.

“If I was going to make love to you,” he whispered, “I’d take it slow. I’d be gentle and incredibly...thorough. I’d make sure you enjoyed every touch, every stroke, every kiss. But I’m not going to make love to you tonight.”

Her eyes had widened during his little speech, and now she ran her tongue over her lips.

His groin tightened painfully.

“Why not?” she whispered.

The disappointment in her voice had him reaching for her before he realized what he was doing. He stopped himself and dropped his hand.

“Because it’s unethical, wrong. You’re my client. I’m your bodyguard. A relationship between us is impossible while I’m guarding you.”

A smile hovered on her tempting mouth. “Okay. Then consider yourself fired. I’ll rehire you in the morning.”

He laughed, delighted that she still had a sense of humor after everything she’d been through. Then he sobered. “I’m serious. It would be wrong. I’d be taking advantage of you. Being in danger together forces a kind of false intimacy. It can be an aphrodisiac, but it’s not real.”

Her smile turned bitter. “I was in danger the whole time I was married. Trust me, it wasn’t an aphrodisiac.” She reached for his hand. “I want you, Luke. And I haven’t wanted anyone in a very long time. If you don’t want me, tell me. But if you do, then don’t throw logic and reason between us.”

He disengaged his hand from hers and lightly traced his finger down the curve of her cheek. “I want you, too, very much. But I don’t want you to hate me later.”

She shook her head. “I won’t.” She dropped her gaze and bit her bottom lip. “But I’m still scared, even though I want you.”

He fought a war with his conscience, but the battle didn’t last long. He wanted her too much to keep denying the attraction between them. But he didn’t want her frightened. He couldn’t bear that.

“There’s no reason to be scared,” he whispered. “You’re the one who’s in control.”

“I am?”

“Yes.” He lowered his hand back to the bed. “I won’t move unless you want me to. You can touch me, or not. Kiss me, or don’t. It’s your decision.” He rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head, striking a relaxed pose he was far from feeling. He wanted nothing more than to cover her body with his, to explore every fascinating dip and curve. But he knew that wasn’t what she needed, and he sensed she wouldn’t respond to that. Not yet, not with her fledgling desire warring with her instinctive fear because of her past.

She flexed her fingers on the sheet, as if debating whether to touch him. “Will you take off your shirt?” she asked.

In answer, he pulled his shirt off and dropped it to the floor, then put his hands behind his head again.

She glanced uncertainly at him, then slowly, so slowly it made him ache, she feathered her fingers up his side, leaving a burning trail in their wake. Growing bolder, she ran her hands across his ribs, testing the muscles there, exploring like an innocent who’d never been allowed the freedom he was giving her.