Assignment: Bodyguard

“It’s too complicated.” He watched her for a minute, his icy eyes softening and never leaving her face. “There’s been some chatter. Some of the threats you received were becoming very pointed and suggestive. And we’ve examined your home and office, based on files that have gone missing. It’s enough to make Gerald think there’s a need to be cautious. That’s all you should know.”

She lifted her chin. “I get that same line from my father. You know, I might be more willing and cooperative if someone would simply tell me what’s going on. How can I be cautious if I don’t know what I’m running from?”

“Good point.” He looked at her with regret when the music ended. “Why don’t we go sit down and I’ll try to explain.”

She checked her watch. “I have to give a thank-you speech in about fifteen minutes, Mr. Warwick.”

“It’s Shane,” he replied, his smile back in let’s pretend mode. “And not to worry on that account. I will be a perfect gentleman at all times and you can escape to give your speech without missing a beat. You have my word on that.”

Kit believed him, and to her ultimate aggravation, was almost a little disappointed to cave so easily. Trudy was right about Shane Warwick. He knew how to wear a tuxedo. The man exuded cool, calm, collected and charming. Lethal qualities to tempt a woman who missed the closeness of marriage and a husband. But easing her loneliness wasn’t why Shane Warwick was here.

Her powerful father had ordered him to watch over her. And Gerald Barton could pay for the best in everything, including bodyguards. She could rest easy in that assurance at least. Even if she probably wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight when she finally made it home.

“We can take that table in the far corner by the orchestra,” she told him, her gaze moving through the crowd. “We shouldn’t be interrupted there.”

“Good,” Shane said, his approval telling her they’d also be safer there. “I’ll get you settled and fetch us something to drink. Are you hungry?”

“No.” She couldn’t eat a bite if her life depended on it. Then she remembered why Shane was here. Her life might depend on following his orders, whether she wanted to or not. Dropping her defiance for now, she allowed him to guide her to their table.

The eyes of everyone in the room followed them with clear interest and curious speculation.

Shane set down their drinks and a plate of canapés then pulled out the chair across from her. The vase of red roses on the stark white brocade tablecloth added a sense of drama to their meeting. He’d taken on this job and now he had to do his best to convince the subject at hand that she needed to listen to reason. And, he decided on the spot, he hoped he could make her smile again in the process of getting acquainted with her.

Shane didn’t know which part of his task would be the most difficult—keeping her safe or removing her mantle of grief. He hated the look of despair that came into her eyes when she didn’t think anyone was watching. But he was paid to observe and paid to pick up on the slightest of nuances.

And right now, as he watched Kit from across the tiny table, he saw a woman who hid her emotions and her fears behind the aura of grace and style and proper grooming.

His mother, British-bred and born, would highly approve of Katherine Atkins. But Lady Samantha wasn’t here tonight, thankfully. He didn’t need her playing matchmaker while he was on the clock. No, his dear mother was safely ensconced in their country home near London, entertaining a group of pretentious, titled friends who moved in royal circles. And having the time of her life doing it, he imagined.

“You’re grinning,” Kit said, her exquisite eyebrows lifting like a butterfly’s wings. “Is this amusing to you?”

He shook his head. “I was thinking about my mother, actually.”

Kit slanted her head. “That’s not very complimentary of me, now is it? We’re finally alone and you’re thinking about your mother?”

He liked her sense of humor. “Trust me, luv, it was a passing thought. I was thinking how she’d love to meet you. She loves all things Texas, so much so that she married a Texan—my father was born and raised near Dallas. We still have property just outside Fort Worth.” His smile tipped up into a grin. “And she named me after a movie—that Wyoming western Shane. I’m surprised she didn’t name me Dallas, but my father loved that particular movie. Watched it all the time.”

Kit leaned forward. “Well, I didn’t know all of that. But you’re so—”

“British?” he asked, following her body language and leaning forward a bit himself. “That I am. My mother’s British with a lineage that dates back to Queen Elizabeth—the first Queen Elizabeth, that is.” He shrugged. “My parents met on a cruise to Africa, went on safari together and well, as you said earlier, the rest was written in the stars. A true love match.”

She lifted away, clearly uncomfortable with any talk of love matches. “Did your father move to England, then?”

“Yes and no. They lived there part of the time and here part of the time by mutual consent, and sometimes they even lived apart by mutual consent, but I attended school in England and spent most of my youth there, per my mother’s request.”

“And how did your father feel about that?”

“He brought me here during school breaks and the summers so we could hunt and fish and do manly things. Just so I’d have a well-rounded life, you understand.”

“I do understand. Texas is so vast, we can all acquire a well-rounded life here. Even an Englishman.”

His grin turned impish. “I think my mother would agree with you on that. She did spend a great deal of time in Texas when they were dating. Especially when he was trying to convince her to marry him. She said she almost backed out after meeting his loud, crude, slightly crazy family. But she grew to love them, one and all.” He touched a rose petal and watched it fall to the table. “And she loved my father. Their time together wasn’t always happy, though. I think they needed their spots of separation.”

She frowned. “I thought you said it was a love match.”

“I did and it was. But all good things take time and compromise, or as my mother calls it—mutual consent and mutual respect.” He looked at her, her eyes, her lips, her long, elegant throat, that enticing strand of perfect pearls. “But some things can be worth the wait.”

Kit, following the line of his gaze, toyed with her pearls. “So she didn’t give in at first, even though she was in love with him?”

Shane saw the interest in her pretty green eyes. And a bit of sadness. She was a romantic then. “No, he used to say he chased her until she let him catch her. And she used to say that she had him wrapped around her finger, but she just wanted to make sure he sweated a little before she said yes.”

“What a charming story.”

Shane nodded, took a sip of his drink. “My father, William, died a few years ago. So now, it’s hard for Lady Samantha to come to Texas. It reminds her too much of him.”

Kit put her elbow on the table then dropped her chin onto her upturned hand, making her look more like a fresh-faced debutante than an attractive, mature woman. “I can certainly understand that feeling. Sometimes, I’d like to get out of this state myself.”

Shane noted that. “I’m sorry for your loss. From what I’ve heard, your husband was a good man.”

She blinked, realized she wasn’t sitting up properly and just like that, her spine went ramrod straight, no longer touching the back of her chair, while the curtain on her emotions came down with a feminine sigh and an elegant lifting of her chin. “Thank you. Now let’s talk about why you’re here and what I need to do to make this as unobtrusive as possible.”

Shane put his hand on his heart. “Unobtrusive? You want me to be unobtrusive?” She didn’t need to know that he was an expert at sneaking in and out of most places completely undetected.

She actually laughed and the sound of it flowed over Shane’s highly aware nerve endings like delicate bells moving through a warm wind. “What? You’ve never tried being that way before?”

“Not in my arsenal, I’m afraid. I prefer to operate on the principle of hiding in plain sight. I like to be out there, very visible, but very aware. My plan is to be seen with you a lot, so that the society ladies who love to gossip over lunch at the club or while hitting tennis balls back and forth on the court, will take notice and spread the word. I want us to be seen as an item.”

“Your premise being?”

“My premise being that an attached woman is much safer than a single, alone woman.” He shrugged. “And besides, it will make my job that much easier.”

Her eyes went dark again. “I am single and alone and I’ve learned to live with that, regardless of making your life easier.”

Shane hated himself for making her think along those lines but it was necessary for her safety. “All the more reason to seem involved. My presence could throw off a potential enemy.”

“Or invite that enemy to fight to the finish.”

“I see you know more about your father’s work than you let on.”

“Yes, more than I want to know.” She pushed at her immaculate upswept white-blond hair. “I don’t like living this way. I don’t want to walk around in fear.”

“You won’t have to if I’m with you.”

“But how long will this ploy work? Are you prepared to stay by my side all the time, even when I leave the country?”

His pulse quickened at that. “Especially if you leave the country—make that—if you’re allowed to leave the country. I have my orders.”

“Of course you do. And I like my privacy and my dignity, and I won’t be told what I can and can’t do. So I don’t intend to be part of some facade or deception. It’s not right.”

“It is right if it means saving your life, Katherine.”

She stood up, dismissing him in a shimmer of silk and a whiff of lily-scented perfume. “That’s the CHAIM way, isn’t it? Always. Might makes right. All for the good fight, the good cause. Do you ever get tired of all the secrecy and the conspiracy?”

Shane almost answered yes to that question. Yes, he did get tired, of war, of the horrors of injustice, of all that he’d seen in his covert travels around the planet, but he’d joined this organization after his father had introduced him to Gerald Barton. They’d both seen something in Shane that he hadn’t even seen in himself. A restless need to avenge good people, to help save lives when innocence clashed with evil, when good men had to fight ruthless criminals that no amount of man’s law could stop. He’d been trained from birth to hunt, shoot, and fight like a gentleman—at his mother’s insistence, but with his father’s help, he’d learn how to think like a combination street gang fighter and gunslinger, with purposeful intent and take-no-prisoners determination. And even though he might sometimes have to get down and dirty to do his job, he worked to fight the good fight and he believed in saving lives, not taking them. So he looked up at Katherine Atkins and said nothing.

“Your silence speaks volumes,” she said, whirling to leave.

Shane was up and by her side in a flash. “There are some things a lady doesn’t need to hear.”

She glared up at him, her eyes a sea of unfathomable green. “And there are some things a gentleman should tell a lady. Such as what kind of danger she is in and why? But your loyalty lies with my father and CHAIM, right? So I can’t count on you to tell me the truth.”

He moved in front of her, blocking her way while those curious gazes all around the room stayed centered on them. They’d make the society columns tomorrow and that would work just fine with their cover. “You can count on me to protect you, to give my life for you if necessary. That is my job.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit overly dramatic?”

“Don’t you think you could possibly avoid making a scene and listen to reason?”

She looked around, realizing much too late that the room had grown quiet, that the orchestra was on a break. The music had stopped and all eyes were on the two of them.

“This is your fault,” she said just as a camera’s flash blinded her. “Great, now you’ve brought out the paparazzi, too. So much for hiding in plain sight.”

Shane trained his eyes on the person who’d taken that picture and that’s when he saw it. Just a flash in the crowd, a quick bit of action that seemed entirely out of place. There behind the roving photographer, a man dressed as a waiter stood silent and still near an exit on the other side of the orchestra stage, not far from where they were. Shane directed his gaze to the man holding the linen napkin across one arm and saw in that one second, as his gaze locked with the other man’s, that the man had a gun trained on Katherine.

In a move that he’d remember later as pure adrenaline, Shane pushed Katherine to the floor behind the table, threw himself down to shield her and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Everyone down. Now!”

A rush of panic hit the room and then bullets started flying all around them. Chaos took over as people either ducked or ran for the nearest exit. But there in the corner behind the protection of a flimsy table, Shane held Katherine’s trembling body close to his, his heartbeat racing to match hers, his prayers asking for protection as he tried to get a line on the shooter crouching near the big stage.

Speaking with shouted emphasis into his earpiece, he called for backup, his gaze never leaving the determined shooter. In spite of the shouts, screams and confusion all around them, the man crouched and moved with purposeful intent, weaving between chairs and tables to finish the job.

And Katherine was the target.

“Don’t move,” he whispered into Katherine’s ear. “We’re going to get you out of here, just hold on.”

Then he reached for the Glock semi-automatic pistol he was carrying in a shoulder holster underneath his tuxedo.

THREE

She couldn’t breathe.

Kit twisted, her hands clutching one of the lapels of Shane’s tuxedo. He’d shielded her, putting his body between her and the bullets, and now he was trying to peek around the table. He had a sleek, strange-looking gun in his hand. This was real, too real.

“Shane?”

He didn’t answer at first. His body tensed, his gaze fixed on someone across the room.

“I’m here,” he finally said, giving her a quick look. “Stay down. I’m right here. But Katherine, listen to me, all right?”

“I’m listening,” she said, wanting to laugh. He’d tried all night to make her listen but now that she was tossed in a corner like a sack of potatoes—her dress torn, her hair coming undone, and someone hiding in the now-silent room with a gun—she was willing to listen. More than willing. She listened just to hear Shane’s breath.

“Kit, could you let go of my jacket?”

Mortified that she was holding on to Shane for dear life, she dropped her white-knuckled hand. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I want to get a better angle. And I want you to stay behind this table, understand?”

She lifted her head then took her first real breath since he’d pushed her down behind the table. And with that breath, she was back in action herself, her fear turning to a rage that screamed for release. “Shane, I can’t stay down here while others are in danger. There are a lot of people in this room besides me. Let me up.”

“No, no. I mean it, Kit. You can’t—”

“How many?” she asked in a tight whisper.

Shane pushed her back down. “Not now. Stay down.”

“How many shooters?” she asked again, her hand now gripping his arm.

He actually appeared shocked. He blinked, looked back at her. “Only one, so far. And if you’ll let go of my arm, he won’t be around much longer.”

“Are you going to kill him right here?”

He watched the still room for movement. “Would you prefer I take him out back and throw him to the hogs?”

“There are no hogs in downtown Austin,” she replied, her words growing stronger. “But I know where a mean, old bull lives.”

He shot her a worried smile. “You’re in shock. It’ll pass.”

“I am not in shock. I’m mad,” she said on a hiss of breath. “And I’ve got a cramp in my foot.”

“Well, I wish that’s all you had to worry about, Katherine. Now let go of me and stay down and we’ll talk about the mean bull later.”

She finally released his arm. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m not quite sure,” he whispered back. “I’m making it up as I go.”

“Some bodyguard you are.”

“Yes, right on that.” He flipped the table onto its side so fast she didn’t even see it fall. A few people down around them gasped but Shane held up a hand to silence them. “Get behind this and stay here. Do not move.” And then, in a flash of black, he was rolling away from her and gone.

“Shane?”

He didn’t answer. She heard people whispering in fear all around her then glanced up for the first time to find Trudy huddled with a man behind the buffet table—the head of catering of all people. Motioning, Kit held up a thumb toward her friend.

Trudy returned the thumbs-up and shot her a wan smile. Then Kit heard a loud thud, followed by a deep groan. She closed her eyes, praying that Shane wasn’t dead. She willed him not to die, not tonight while he was trying to save her. She couldn’t bear that kind of guilt, especially after she’d tried so hard to ignore him and discourage him. But Shane was a good man. She could see that now. He had such a nice smile and he had this air of self-assurance that she’d never witnessed in another man. Not even Jacob.

“Jacob,” she whispered, her heart breaking with longing, her head down and her hand over her mouth. “Jacob, I need you here. Why did you go away?” She didn’t voice her prayer, but heard it clearly in her head. Dear Lord, I need You to help all of us. Don’t let anyone die tonight.

She saw a masculine hand set against a crisp white cuff reaching toward her. The cuff link winked bright and bold and looked like some sort of ancient coat-of-arms. Katherine blinked, thinking this must all be a dream. But the hand reached down toward her with an impatient shake so she had no choice but to take hold of it. She reached up and felt the man’s fingers wrapping around hers, a stirring warmth penetrating the numbness that had frozen her entire system. She gazed up and into Shane’s crystal blue eyes.

“Come with me,” he said, his tone curt and no-nonsense.

Katherine got up but stumbled, her knees refusing to hold her. Then she was swept clear of the floor and into his arms. Wrapping her hands around his neck, she turned away from the few people still hiding in the room and trained her eyes on him. Only him. She heard Shane barking orders, heard her father speaking loudly to the hotel security.

Shane’s voice carried through the ballroom. “One shooter, secured. He went down on the right side of the stage, still alive. I’ll give a full statement later. I’m getting her out of here.”

The room sounded with cries and feet rustling and people running across the marble floor. They were all asking rapid-fire questions, men angry and women crying. The music would not start back up now, of course. It had been put silent by a killer’s intent.

Katherine heard all of it through the muffled protection of Shane’s rock-solid shoulder bearing the weight of her head, but she couldn’t face the people and the questions and…she didn’t dare ask what had happened to the other man.

“He’s still unconscious. But I reckon he won’t talk when he does wake up.”

Shane looked from Gerald Barton to the two other men sitting in the darkly paneled study. They were back at the CHAIM fortress called Eagle Rock, in the secluded hill country just on the outskirts of Austin.

“He will soon enough,” Alfred Anderson said. “The Austin police will see to that.”

John Simpson grunted then took a long swig of coffee. “But he might rather be charged, tried and put away for a long time. Because if he speaks, he knows he could die inside prison or out. Smells like a deliberate hit to me.”

Gerald got up to stomp around the massive conference room. “At least she’s safe here.” Then he glanced at Shane. “She is safe here, isn’t she, Warwick?”

Shane used to be sure about such things, but tonight, he wasn’t so sure. He’d given a detailed statement to the locals and he’d gone over everything with his CHAIM supervisors. But something didn’t seem right. His ulcer was shouting a warning with quick spasms of heat. Pulling out a roll of antacid tablets, he chewed one then said, “I have some concerns, sir.”

Gerald looked affronted. “C’mon, Knight, you helped rebuild the security system in this place. Kissie and you both said no one can get in here.”

“What if someone is already in here?” Shane said. “It’s happened before.”

Gerald nodded. “He’s right. Devon Malone almost lost Lydia Cantrell because one of the servants wasn’t just here to fold napkins and plan meals. Tried to smother the poor girl with a pillow.”

“We’ve tightened things since then,” Alfred said. “My wife made sure of that. She was not happy that we’d let an assassin serve us dinner, let me tell you.”

In spite of the image of tiny, spry Lulu Anderson being peeved about a renegade butler, Shane still had his doubts. Something about this whole night didn’t make sense.

They’d made sure the hotel ballroom was secure, which meant someone on the inside had set this up. That was the only clear explanation. Or maybe he wasn’t thinking very clearly since he couldn’t stop thinking about Katherine Atkins. Think about the assignment, not the client, he reminded himself. He should have learned from past experiences to stay focused.

And yet, he couldn’t get the image out of his mind of Katherine’s hand reaching up to take his. Or the feel of her soft skin brushing against his.

“I just want to be sure we’re doing the right thing, sir. Another location might be more advisable at this point since we could have been followed. We need to get her away from Austin.”

Eagle Rock was Fort Knox—impenetrable and tightly secure, with everything from fingerprint and facial scanners to keypads with state-of-the-art biometric security. Which is why Shane had brought Katherine straight here, rather than take her to her home in Austin. This sprawling ranch-style mansion held eight bedrooms and as many adjoining baths, an industrial size kitchen and a long dining room, a huge den and several smaller offices, not to mention several outbuildings and a private airstrip. Each of those areas could be sealed off from the rest with a flip of a switch. Not exactly a great way to live, but necessary in their line of work.

And usually, CHAIM agents only came here for conferences and training sessions, or to be interrogated when an operation had gone wrong. Which it almost had tonight.

“I didn’t do my job tonight,” he said, whirling to stare at the three men who, although retired, were still listed as his immediate superiors in a crisis such as this. “I should have been more vigilant.”

“Warwick, we’ve gone over this,” Gerald said. “I was there in the room, too, son, and I never saw this coming.” His shrug said it all. “We checked everyone who entered that place, especially the hired help. I can’t figure how that man got past security with that gun.”

“That’s just it,” Shane said, logic coloring his words. “He didn’t. Someone had to give him the gun or put it where he could find it. Someone from the inside.”

“Well, thankfully we got the man alive. And you saved my daughter’s life,” Gerald replied.

“But I was assigned to watch her,” Shane said, looking down at his discarded, black bow tie, his mind whirling with images of people running and screaming and a lone gunman standing near an exit door, his sleek gun held with one hand just underneath the shield of his other raised arm. And aimed right toward Katherine Atkins.

“If that camera flash hadn’t gone off, she would have died right there beside me.”

“But that’s the fact, Warwick,” John said. “You were right there beside her and your quick actions saved her. And a lot more people, too.”