The Secret Brokers (5 page)

“I’m looking for Gwen Marsh,” Dallas declared, hoping that the woman before him was simply a helper or friend of his target.

“I’m Gwen.” She held out her hand. “You’re the bodyguard, Dallas August, right?”

Dallas hesitated for a moment before he took her hand. “Bodyguard?” He gripped her hand firmly in his. “I thought I was supposed to be your new handyman.”

She directed her gaze to his car and raised her eyebrows. “In that?” She gave him a funny smile that made her nose crinkle. “Mr. August, I can guarantee that every person who lives down the road from me spotted that fancy car of yours, and by tonight I will get ten phone calls about it. Gonna be real hard to tell anyone you’re my new handyman now.”

Dallas cursed silently to himself. “The car was someone else’s idea, not mine,” he told her.

“Lance Beauvoir always did go for the flashy toys
…
kind of like a crow goes to bright, shiny objects.” She looked him over once more. “You’re a little small to be a bodyguard. I thought you guys were all big and muscle bound.”

Dallas grinned, sarcastically. “Oh, we bodyguards come in all shapes and sizes.” He moved away from the car and shut the door behind him. “You don’t look anything like your driver’s license suggested. I thought you would be…taller.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Yeah, well, who doesn’t add an inch or two or drop ten pounds on their driver’s license stats these days.”

He studied her guarded stance for a moment. “How did you know Lance picked out the car? I was under the impression that—”

“Mr. August, I’d say let’s cut through the bullshit and get down to it,” she interrupted. “You’re here at Carl’s insistence, not mine. I don’t need protection and I sure as hell never wanted it. I’ve gotten several phone calls already this morning about when you arrived at the airport, who met you, and even about what kind of car you would be driving.” She looked over at the car. “If we’re going to be stuck with each other for the next two weeks, I’d say let’s not kid ourselves. We are never going to be anything more than what we are; Carl Bordonaro’s hired hands.” She glanced back at the red barn behind her. “I wanted to put you in the guest apartment above the barn, but I was told you have to stay in the house with me.” She turned back to Dallas. “I don’t cook, do laundry, or pick up after you. Are we clear on all of that?”

Dallas stared into her blue-green eyes and tried to contain his grin. Lance had been right about her.

“Fine.” He nodded at her. “I can cook for both of us.”

She raised her dirty blond brows at him. “Cook? You?” She turned from the car. “This I gotta see,” she mumbled under her breath.

A fly swept by Dallas’s ear. He hastily raised his hand in the air and shooed the pesky insect away.

Gwen Marsh walked toward her home. She climbed the four short steps to the front porch, stopped, and turned to Dallas.

“Well, are you coming or what?” she demanded, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got better things to do, Mr. August, than be your bellboy.”

Dallas let his eyes travel down her baggy blue jean overalls, trying to find an outline of the figure she hid beneath her clothes. He folded his arms over his chest as his cool eyes zeroed in on hers.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Ms. Marsh. I came here as a favor to Carl. I’m not expecting to be treated like royalty, but I think we should set some ground rules.”

Her eyes went wide. “Ground rules?”

“While I’m here, I need to have you in my sights at all times. You’re not to go off or leave without telling me first. If Carl wants me here, then he has a real damn good reason for being concerned about your safety. So I suggest you work with me and drop the attitude.” He walked around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door.

“Attitude?” Gwen Marsh shook her head. “If this is any indication of what two weeks with you are going to be like than I think we had better…” She went quiet when she saw Dallas emerge from the passenger side of the car with the Sig Sauer P226 in his hand.

“What’s that?” she asked, nervously.

Dallas held up the pistol. “A gun.”

“And why do you feel the need for a gun?”

“I was told to protect you.” He nodded to the gun. “This will help.”

Dallas moved to the back of the car and popped the trunk. He pulled his black suitcase and overnight bag from the trunk. Then he carefully placed the gun inside of his overnight bag.

“I suggest you show me to my room
,
and then we can take a tour of your grounds, Ms. Marsh. I want to get the layout of the place in my head as soon as possible,” Dallas stated as he slammed the trunk closed.

“You’d better call me Gwen. I don’t think I could stand two weeks of listening to Ms. Marsh from you.” She paused. “And am I to call you Dallas, or do you have another name to go along with that fancy car of yours?”

“Dallas will be fine.” He picked up his suitcase and overnight bag. “And if you don’t mind, Gwen, loose the attitude. It will just make the coming two weeks a hell of a lot more difficult for both of us.”

Gwen smiled impudently as he made his way to the porch. “The attitude is non-negotiable, Dallas. If you don’t like it, I suggest you sleep in the apartment above the barn.” She turned away from him and headed inside the house.

Dallas bit his tongue and followed behind her.
So much for vulnerable and feminine
, he thought as he watched her round bottom swinging seductively back and forth in front of him. This was going to be a long two weeks.

***

The inside of the house was smaller than what he expected. A cozy, but sparsely furnished living room surrounded a mammoth stone hearth. Off to the right was a kitchen and dining area. On the other side of the living room was a sunroom with a desk, neatly arranged bookcases, and a few filing cabinets. In front of the kitchen were wide oak stairs leading straight up to the second floor.

Gwen waved to the stairs. “There’s a guest bedroom upstairs on the right. You’ll have your own bathroom, and I’ll get you some fresh towels later. Go on up and put your bags down. I’ll meet you back out on the porch and show you around.” She paused and smiled sarcastically at him. “Unless there is something else you need me to do?”

Dallas shook his head. “I’ll meet you back out on the porch in five.” He headed over to the stairs, carrying his suitcase and overnight bag.

“Oh, and watch out for Lawrence,” Gwen warned behind him.

Dallas turned back to her as he reached the stairs. “Lawrence?”

“Your roommate,” she told him. “A rescued tomcat who thinks the guest bedroom is his. I’ll leave you two to work out the sleeping arrangements.” She gave Dallas one last grin and walked out the front door.

“Good thing I sleep with a gun,” he remarked as he headed up the stairs.

Along the paneled oak wall by the stairs Dallas noted faded outlines where framed pictures had once hung. The few photos that remained on the paneled wall were of different horses out in the pasture next to the red barn. In two of the photos Dallas thought he saw a slender blond woman standing next to one of the large creatures, but the woman either had her face turned away or had her back to the camera. Dallas studied the empty spots where the other photographs had been. Making a mental note to ask about the missing pictures, he turned away from the wall and climbed the steps.

When he reached the second floor landing, he pushed open a yellow door on his right. As soon as he saw the round mound of gray fur stretched out in the center of the yellow bedspread, he instantly forgot about the missing photos on the wall. The very large cat on the bed did not move, but opened one green eye and spied Dallas standing in the doorway.

“I got some bad news for you, buddy,” Dallas announced as he walked into the room and placed his suitcase on the bed.

But the cat did not budge, even as Dallas pushed his suitcase closer to the animal.

Dallas was a little surprised that the animal did not even seem to register his presence.

“Why don’t you find another place to sleep?” Dallas suggested as he nudged his suitcase against the cat.

Lawrence lifted his head and stared at Dallas. He began to angrily beat his tail against the yellow bedspread.

Dallas pushed the cat across the bedspread with his suitcase. The animal did get up this time, but instead of jumping off the bed, as Dallas had hoped, the cat climbed on top of his suitcase and stretched out.

Dallas glowered at the cat. “We’re gonna have a problem, aren’t we, you little shit.”

Lawrence yawned and closed his eyes. Dallas stared in amazement as the cat continued his nap on top of his suitcase.

Dallas shook his head, slipped his overnight bag from around his shoulder, and tossed it next to the suitcase. “If you pee on anything…” Dallas threatened, shaking his finger at the feline.

But Lawrence never even bothered to open his eyes, having become completely comfortable on top of the suitcase.

As Dallas made his way down the stairs, he caught sight of a few more empty spaces along the wall where pictures had once hung. He inspected the faded impressions on the paneling and headed down the stairs. When he stepped into the living room, he noticed a few more places along the far wall, next to the study, where it seemed an entire gallery of framed photographs had been removed. He searched the pictures that where left and saw some of strangers standing side by side and laughing or smiling at the camera. But amid the pictures of people and animals left on the walls, there was not one clear photograph of Gwen Marsh.

“Odd,” he mumbled as he took in the walls. “Why are there no photos of her anywhere?”

His eyes quickly explored the meagerly decorated living room and then he strolled out the front door.

***

As Dallas walked from the house to the barn with Gwen, he learned that the fifteen-acre farm consisted of ten cleared acres where the house, barn, and shed were located, while the remaining acreage had been left undeveloped. Surveying the tall trees and thick brush surrounding him, Dallas noted that despite the cool temperature, many of the trees still appeared green and vibrant.

“What about deliveries and workers?” Dallas asked as he glanced back at Gwen.

“Feed, hay, and animal supplies are delivered twice a month on Thursdays. Harold is usually the driver that comes. The feed store is called Cole’s—it’s in Folsom and I have a standing order with them. If I ever need extra, I call it in. UPS and FedEx come only when there are special orders for medicine or other equipment. I have one worker who comes every week on Thursday to help out with chores and do some minor repairs. Any other repairs or services are on an as needed basis. If I make any changes to that schedule, I let you know.”

“Any visitors, friends, family coming out? Anyone I should be expecting?”

Gwen shook her head. “No one comes out here. My father never travels this far out of town, and since the trial started—”

Dallas stopped walking. “Trial?” he asked, cutting her off.

Gwen halted beside him. “Yeah, the Robertson Trial.” She cautiously observed Dallas for a few seconds. “The racketeering trial my father is testifying in. He’s the primary witness for the prosecution against Darryl Robertson.”

Dallas focused his dark blue eyes on Gwen. “Darryl Robertson supposedly runs a crime organization comparable to Carl’s.”

“Comparable?” Gwen snickered. “Darryl Robertson has been Carl’s biggest competitor in the gambling and prostitution business in New Orleans since anyone can remember. My father sold liquor to all of Darryl’s illegal gambling dens and brothels for years. Two years back the feds went to my father and asked him to testify about Robertson’s illegal operations. With Carl’s blessing, my father agreed.” She stared at him. “That’s why you’re here, right? To protect me during the trial.”

Dallas carefully considered what to tell her. To lie to the woman bought him some time until he could look into the trial; but to tell her the truth would blow any opportunity he had of discovering the information Carl needed.

“I wasn’t told all of the details,” he lied. “Just that you needed a bodyguard for two weeks.”

“Well, that is how long the trial is supposed to take. Prosecutors think it’s pretty open and shut thanks to my father’s testimony. He witnessed all the illegal operations first hand.”

“And why did Carl Bordonaro think you needed my protection?” Dallas questioned, already knowing the answer.

“My father’s identity as a special witness for the prosecution has been kept a big secret up until this point. Now that the trial has begun, and the defense knows about my father’s testimony, Carl thinks Darryl Robertson will do anything to keep my father from getting on the witness stand. That’s why he insisted on sending a professional to babysit me until the trial is over. I do have minders, though, posted outside of my entrance gate.” She motioned to the gate. “Surprised you didn’t see them on the way in.”

Dallas scanned the property and then directed his eyes back to the entrance gate. “I didn’t see any other cars out front,” he mentioned, suddenly alarmed that he could possibly have missed something so obvious.

Gwen shrugged. “Probably went to get a bite to eat. I never acknowledge them, but I know the FBI guys are out there most of the day and night. I was warned that they might put a surveillance team on me, but they have never approached me or asked me any questions.”