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Bulletproof Hearts
Kay Thomas


The discovery that her brother was the victim of a hit-and-run murder leads Abigail Trevor on a deadly hunt for answers–and straight into a killer's web. Her only protection comes from raw instinct, a cryptic video message and a dangerously sexy military bodyguard who seems too good to be true.Private security specialist Shaun Logan doesn't want to care whether Abby trusts him or not. But in order to protect her, he needs to keep her close–very close. Keeping his hands off the feisty blonde is going to be tough, but he knows it's a line he shouldn't cross. After all, his focus needs to be on the shocking truths he continues to unravel–and the deadly force tracking Abby's every desperate attempt at escape.









Abigail’s eyes fluttered open. “What…what happened?”


Shaun’s heart started beating again.

“Someone broke in.” He pulled off his dress shirt, wondering if his voice sounded normal.

“Who? Did you get the computer? Why are you undressing?”

“No. They have it. And I’m taking off my T-shirt to clean your face.”

“Oh…” Coughing more vigorously, she tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down before pulling his shirt over his head. “Who’s they?”

“I don’t know. Do you always ask this many questions?” He didn’t intend to answer so sharply, but he was still getting his equilibrium back at almost getting them both killed.

“No, I just… Sorry,” she muttered.

He stopped and looked into her eyes. “No, Abigail, I’m the one who’s sorry. I almost got you killed for the second time today.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t really see it that way, you know. I think you just saved my life for the second time.”




Bulletproof Hearts

Kay Thomas





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Tom, for everything.




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Having grown up in the heart of the Mississippi Delta, Kay Thomas considers herself a “recovering” Southern belle. She attended Vanderbilt and graduated from Mississippi State University with a degree in educational psychology and an emphasis in English. Along the way to publication, she taught high school, worked in an advertising specialty agency and had a very brief stint in a lingerie store.

Kay met her husband in Dallas when they sat next to each other in a restaurant. Seven weeks later they were engaged. Twenty years later she claims the moral of that story is “When in Texas look the guy over before you sit next to him, because you may be eating dinner with him the rest of your life!” Today she still lives in Dallas with her Texan, their two children and a shockingly spoiled Boston terrier named Jack.

Kay is thrilled to be writing for Harlequin Intrigue and would love to hear from her readers. Visit her at her website, www.kaythomas.net (http://www.kaythomas.net), or drop her a line at P.O. Box 837321, Richardson, TX 75083.




CAST OF CHARACTERS


Abigail Trevor—A professor of Southern literature attending her brother’s funeral in Washington, D.C. When Abby finds out her brother’s hit-and-run accident was murder, she is forced to trust a mysterious stranger to ensure her own safety.

Shaun Logan—Raised in Ireland, Shaun now works in the U.S. as a contract bodyguard security specialist for Zip Technologies. His job is to keep Abby safe, but can he do that and discover who really killed her brother?

Jason Trevor—Abby’s brother and the creator of Zip-Net, a completely secure internet wireless protocol. Was he killed for it?

Michael Donner—CEO and founder of Zip Technologies, also Shaun’s boss. Famous in the business world for his philanthropy and business sense, Michael is about to sign the deal of a lifetime if Shaun and Abby can find the answers he needs.

Karen Weathers—Abby’s mentor and friend currently living in a Dallas rehab facility due to a stroke. Will she be used as a pawn while Abby and Shaun look for clues?

Harlan Jeffries—Shaun’s best friend from Iraq. Can Harlan help Shaun keep Abby safe?

Hodges—Reports to Michael Donner. Shaun has worked with him before at Zip Technologies.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four




Chapter One


Day One—Morning

Watching the strangers scurry past her brother’s grave, Abby Trevor felt blessedly numb everywhere…except her feet. The designer shoes she’d bought on a whim last spring with Jason hurt like crazy and pain was the only thing keeping her focused. The pinch in her right instep reminded her of the day she and her brother had shopped themselves silly in New York. At the moment that needle-like sensation was the way she knew the coffin in front of her was not some hideous nightmare as the rain fell in sheets from the dark morning sky.

If she let herself believe for one second the sea of black umbrellas around her was a dream, she’d stand up, kick off those wretched shoes and run screaming from the drowning cemetery. That would certainly set the tongues to wagging, especially here in Washington, D.C.

But she wouldn’t disgrace her brother or his memory that way. Her mama’s Southern belle training was too in-grained in her, despite the fact that she was one thousand miles from the Mississippi Delta and the small town that had been the cradle of her genteel upbringing.

Still, that home training—and her uncomfortable shoes—kept Abby’s butt firmly planted in the soggy funeral home seat under the green awning. She’d never be able to stand the sight or scent of stargazer lilies again. Thunder rumbled in the distance, serving as another reminder that despite the surreal atmosphere, this was no dream.

Jason was dead. Killed by a hit-and-run driver while crossing the street on his lunch hour. D.C. police were still looking for the driver.

God, Jason, what happened?

She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the rain was coming down in biblical proportions and almost everyone was gone. She wouldn’t be surprised to see frogs falling from the sky soon. She felt nearly alone in the world. Nearly.

Estranged relatives in Mississippi didn’t count. But Karen Weathers did. Even if her beloved mentor was in a nursing home in Dallas. Abby tried to imagine herself in happier days sitting in her old college professor’s office at Southern Methodist University sipping tea and arguing about William Faulkner, anything to mentally take herself away from her present location. It didn’t work. She was too aware of the rain. The overpowering scent of the lilies. The pain in her feet. And the temptation to run screaming from it all.

“Miss Trevor, I’m terribly sorry for your loss. Your brother will be missed.” The deep voice had a rich Irish lilt to it.

The speaker was tall, wore a trench coat and held a massive golf umbrella against the dreary weather. Rain splattered his outstretched hand but she reached to take it anyway. His grasp was warm and wet.

“My name’s Abigail but everyone calls me Abby.” She glanced up with her practiced “polite funeral smile” in place only to get a distinct jolt when she stared into unusual blue-green eyes that reminded her of dark Caribbean waters that could change to a deep emerald when the light hit just so. She took a moment longer to study the man’s Cary Grant cleft chin and high cheekbones. But that’s where all similarity to her favorite movie star ended.

His aristocratic nose had been broken somewhere in the past and his dark hair, misted by the rain, was cut in a longer variation of a military “high and tight.” The combination made him a bit dangerous looking, but his air was open and friendly. Overall, the nose kept him from being too pretty, otherwise he would have looked like a chiseled European model.

Somewhere in her perusal she found her voice again, glad to be shaken from her pity party and wild thoughts of running barefoot like a banshee from the cemetery. His grip was firm and he had a bandage on his index finger. She wondered what had happened to it.

She let go of his hand and asked, “How did you know Jason?”

“By reputation, initially. I was a great admirer of his work. My name is Shaun Logan. We became…friends later.”

An admirer of Jason’s work.

What a strange thing to say. She didn’t think her brother’s work was necessarily well-known. Jason was a concept development engineer, albeit a good one, for Zip Technologies. Zip Tech for short. A cyber-security start-up. And now the man was staring back at her in the oddest way. She had a feeling she was missing something significant.

She’d never thought of Jason as having admirers, unless… Ah, color her embarrassed. Of course.

Her brother was gay. And this lovely gentleman must be as well. Okay, so she’d missed that entirely. She’d been too busy checking him out herself.

“I had no idea.” That covered such a multitude of things about her brother—his love life and her present gaffe.

Jason had been very open about his choices but not his lovers. And Abby had adored him—not judging, even when her parents had, to their own detriment.

She swallowed past the emotion clogging her throat. “Thank you for coming today. I appreciate it. I didn’t know many of his…friends.”

“’Tis my honor to be here. I only wish we could be meeting under more pleasant circumstances.” His accent was like sliding into a warm comfortable coat on a cold day.

“Your brother was quite famous in the high-tech world,” Shaun continued.

She shook her head, still at a loss to reconcile the Jason she’d known and to understand this aspect of his work.

“It’s not something you would have been aware of if you weren’t in the industry, especially as his sister. You just loved him for himself, aye?”

Again, Abby swallowed hard as sudden scalding tears burned the corners of her eyes. There were so many things she didn’t know about Jason’s life. Had he told this man all the details?

She sighed. “Jason never shared much with me about his job. It was so proprietary.”

He nodded and offered her a neatly pressed handkerchief from his coat pocket. “Everyone at Zip Tech signs a nondisclosure agreement. Applies to family members, as well.”

“Did he speak with you about his work?” she asked.

“Only in the most general of terms. He worked on some very interesting projects.”

Abby tilted her head. That voice. Shaun Logan could charm snakes with it. She’d be completely intimidated if he wasn’t gay. She looked directly at him and smiled. “Jason told me a little about the new security project—Zip-Net, I believe it’s called? He was thrilled and so hopeful for the direction of the company. I can’t quite believe he won’t be here to—”

She stopped. She couldn’t think about that now or she’d never make it through everything she had to do today and the rest of this week.

“It’s an exciting concept. Everyone at Zip Tech is optimistic about the future and they owe your brother a great deal,” said Shaun. “He was a wonderful man.”

“He was a pretty terrific brother, too.” She bowed her head and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. It smelled like the same fabric softener she used herself. She was struck by the incongruity of that as she felt Shaun’s hand on her shoulder.

“If there’s anything I can do,” he murmured.

She looked up. There was nothing to be done now but grieve, and there would be time for that later, in private.

“I’d missed several of his calls lately. I assumed he was traveling. We’d been playing phone tag for a couple of weeks and I hadn’t been able to catch up with him.” Or hear about who he was seeing?

“Right. He was traveling with lab testing all last month.”

“I wondered why we kept missing each other.” She thought of Jason’s garbled voice-mail message a few days ago. She’d only caught the beginning because the connection was so bad. Buttercup, how are you?

She’d assumed his call was more decompressing about his schedule. While he couldn’t tell her much about his actual work, he could bitch about the insane deadlines of a start-up company and the unique personalities involved—all while managing to make it sound entertaining. That was Jason. And that information wasn’t proprietary. She’d always been willing to listen. He’d certainly listened to her enough.

She fervently hoped Jason had had others to listen as well and to give advice. Others perhaps like Shaun? He certainly seemed to know her brother.

Could he tell her more about Jason? They were alone now in the cemetery under the awning. Everyone had fled the rain except for the funeral director and the limo driver. She dove in without really thinking it through, especially as she assumed he “hit for the other team” so to speak.

“I won’t keep you any longer in this horrible rain, but I’ve really enjoyed talking with you about Jason’s work. I’d like to learn more about that part of his life. Do you have a business card? Could I perhaps email you?” she asked.

He reached into his pocket and handed her one. “Nothing would please me more.”

“Thank you.” She slid the calling card into her purse, disinclined to leave but knowing it was time.

“How long have you been in D.C.?” he asked.

“I got in the day before yesterday. Wait, I guess it was yesterday.” She shook her head. “My internal clock is turned upside down. I flew in from London and I don’t have my times figured out yet.”

“Do you live in the U.K.?” He took her elbow, helping her through the rain to the limo. The golf umbrella was huge, yet the swirling rain still found them.

“I do now…for the past three months. I’m a professor at SMU. This semester I’m guest lecturing on Southern Literature at Cambridge University while one of their professors is teaching English literature in Dallas. We swap apartments and everything.”

“What a fascinating way to see the world.”

“It is. I’ve done this in Italy and France, as well.”

“Where are you staying while you’re here?” They’d reached the limo and he helped her inside.

“I’m at Jason’s. I’ll close his condo while I’m in D.C. Then—” She stopped and stared hard at her wet right shoe before she took a deep breath. “I suppose I haven’t really gotten that far yet.”

She glanced up at him. “Can I give you a lift to your car?” She was reluctant to leave him now. Hearing him talk, she wouldn’t have cared if the Irishman was reading the phone book. She felt peaceful for the first time in four days, like she wasn’t going to jump out of her skin. It felt for some reason as if she were letting her last ties with Jason go.

He shrugged. “No worries, I took a cab.”

“Can I drop you somewhere? It’s raining so, please…get in.” She stopped again and blushed. “Oh, my, I’m not trying to pick you up at my brother’s funeral. Not that you’d be interest—”

She stopped and shook her head, wishing suddenly for the earth to open and swallow her up. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant at all.”

She felt herself blushing, and suddenly she was back in Ms. Martin’s seventh grade class, stammering through her “How to Make the Perfect Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich” demonstration speech. On top of spreading peanut butter on her speech notes instead of the bread, she’d dropped and shattered the strawberry jam jar in front of the entire classroom. That day, she’d wished for the world to end, as well—for an entirely different reason.



SHAUN COULDN’T HELP BUT SMILE as she flushed again, a pleasant pink, to the roots of her hair. It was lovely. He hadn’t seen a woman who got embarrassed and blushed like that in a long time.

The part of his conscience that was still active was mildly bothered by the fact that he was deceiving a woman who had just buried her brother. That twinge of remorse surprised him. Intellectually he knew how she felt. But the remnants of his own grief and loss had been buried for so long, they no longer clouded his judgment.

Growing up in a country filled with centuries of violence had not produced an idyllic childhood, nor had losing both parents to “the Troubles” of his homeland in a bomb blast at the tender age of eight. Years of denial had worked in his favor at cementing a manhole cover of ice over that dark mental abyss. He shook off the old ghosts.

He hadn’t planned to introduce himself at the funeral and certainly not as Jason Trevor’s boyfriend. He’d been ordered to keep an eye on Abigail, possibly even protect her—as needed—from the background. He wasn’t supposed to make contact yet. Donner needed this woman’s cooperation but that wouldn’t happen if Shaun spooked her first. He’d considered the funeral as more of a scouting opportunity, but this seemed too good an opportunity to pass up.

Getting her to lean on him, trust him was the job he’d been assigned. Abigail Trevor was clearly in pain. Plus, she was in an unfamiliar city with no family or friends close by. He’d been over and over how to play this the past three days. The problem was time and how little there was of it. Winning her trust in such a limited time frame called for a wee…creative manipulation of the truth. Such as concealing, for now, the fact that the female Trevor sibling was much more to his taste than her brother would have been.

Maybe he should have corrected Abigail’s assumption and told her that he was definitely not gay. But he had to insinuate himself into her life as soon as possible. So he let her mistake stand as the quickest way to get under her defenses.

Shaun was just grateful he worked for Michael Donner now, instead of his old boss at Storm’s Edge. He could trust Donner and his motives. In other words, he could lie with impunity.

There was certainly no one around to contradict him. No one knew him or could question whether Shaun had known Jason Trevor as a colleague, a lover, or if he’d never laid eyes on the man until today at the funeral home viewing.

Jason had kept his personal life extraordinarily private, and Shaun had seen the change in Abigail’s eyes when she thought she’d put it together, so he didn’t set her straight in any sense of the word.

Seeing Jason’s coworkers hurry past, most not saying anything to her due in part to the torrential downpour, he realized that right now was the perfect time to approach her. She was off balance, grieving. Not evaluating or thinking clearly. Any slipup he might make could be more easily covered. Letting himself be “talked into” a ride was the perfect setup.

Except when he felt that niggle of conscience and a real surge of attraction that was completely out of place here. Then she was talking and he almost missed what she was saying.

“…it’s just I don’t want to ride by myself and it seems a waste. I can drop you at a hotel in Georgetown at least. It’ll be easier for you to grab a cab that way in this rain.”

Shaun grinned. This would be okay. It would be splendid, in fact. “Sure and I’d be a fool to turn down a lift from a lovely lady. Just drop me at the nearest metro station. I’ll take the train home.”

What could be more ideal?



ABBY MOVED OVER AS SHAUN climbed in beside her. He was much bigger than she’d realized once he was seated beside her—at least six foot three. He wasn’t imposing exactly but he was built like someone who worked out a lot.

Jason, even from the grave you snag the most amazing-looking men. What is that about?

At that moment Abby had a pang of longing for her brother and all they had lost that was so intense, a tear trickled down her cheek mixing with the raindrops. She turned her head away to the opposite window and saw that the limo driver had provided a couple of towels for her to dry off with. She blotted her face and offered the other hand linen to Shaun.

“Jason would have adored this,” she murmured. “He dearly loved a good thunderstorm. They always scared me silly.”

The limo driver swung around the gates of the cemetery and paused a moment as a maintenance truck rolled past. The plan was for her to be driven back to Jason’s condo in Arlington. Zip Tech had made all the arrangements. She leaned forward to ask the driver to stop at a metro station.

Breaking glass and a soft svit sound thumped the leather seat behind her. The window beside her broke into a thousand tiny pieces, covering her back and hair.

“Get down!” Shaun tackled her, taking her to the floor-board. Suddenly she was facedown underneath two hundred pounds of heavily muscled male, her nose pressed into the taupe-colored carpet. All she could smell was damp earth from their tromp across the cemetery and the strange chemical scent of heavy-duty carpet cleaner.

More glass shattered.

“Damn it!” cried the driver, stomping on the brakes.

“Don’t stop!” shouted Shaun. He raised up on one elbow and for a moment she could breathe. “Someone’s shooting at us. We have to get away from here. Keep driving.”

The back window imploded and showered across their bodies as the car swerved wildly before righting itself.

“Whatever happens,” repeated Shaun, “don’t stop driving.”

“Which way do we go?” shouted the driver.

Shaun rattled off an address she’d never heard of in a heavier Irish brogue, adding to the surreal feel of everything.

Then he lowered his head again, covering her body with his and once again, she couldn’t get any air. His hair tickled her cheek, then his lips were right beside her ear. She was light-headed from the lack of oxygen—and more. It was chillingly bizarre, yet intimate at the same time.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Words stuck in her throat. “No…no, I’m not. Why is someone shooting at us? Are they following us?”

“We’re going somewhere safe.”

He shifted his weight to pull out a cell phone and started texting.

“You didn’t answer my question. What’s going on?” Was this guy some kind of criminal that people were shooting at him in her car? “Why are they shooting at you?” She heard the rising panic in her own voice. “Abigail, I’m not the person they’re shooting at.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening here. What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m trying to get us some help.”

“By texting?” She didn’t try to hide the sarcasm in her voice. Fear made her snarky. “I don’t understand. Why are you texting someone instead of calling 9-1-1?”

“I need you to calm down.”

“Calm down when there are people shooting at us, at me? And I can’t…I can’t breathe.”

She was serious about that part. For some reason her asthma was kicking into overdrive and she was going to have to use her inhaler as soon as possible or she would be in serious trouble.

He shifted his weight, once again reminding her that regardless of his sexual orientation, he was a man and he had her pinned to the ground.

“Your driver is doing a fine job of getting us away from the situation. I’m making sure we have help when we get to where he is taking us.”

“You haven’t told me who you really are, have you?”

He ignored her question and called to the driver instead. “You doing okay up there?”

The guy nodded.

“What’s your name?” asked Shaun. They were speeding along Rock Creek Parkway now. “I’m Carl.”

“Carl, I’m Shaun and you’re doing great. Donner briefed you, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, I need you to take us to that address I gave you.”

Carl nodded.

“What’s going on? Why won’t you tell me? Carl?” She turned her head to meet Shaun’s eyes. “Where are we going? To the police?”

They were nose to nose and she could see a tiny scar under his chin. His eyes seemed darker up close than she’d originally thought, with deep green flecks in the irises. She stared, determined not to look away or back down till she got answers.

“No police. But ’tis a safe place, where we’re going,” Shaun answered.

“Why no police?”

“Because I’m not sure they can help you right now.”

“And you can? Who are you?” she asked again. Fear was giving way to anger.

“A friend.” The snake charmer was long gone; he was cool and businesslike.

She shook her head and turned back to face the carpet. Some friend. No one had started shooting till she met him and up until two minutes ago, Carl had been her driver.

“Why should I believe that?” she whispered.




Chapter Two


Shaun heard the whisper of her voice but couldn’t catch what she’d said as he contemplated the back of Abigail’s blond head. She was so small, he had to be crushing her beneath him. Yet he felt compelled to physically shield her until he was absolutely certain that danger had passed. He rose up and checked out the window before hunkering down again. Carl had left behind whoever was shooting at them, but Shaun was still buzzing from the adrenaline rush.

In his mind’s eye he could see a bullet whizzing through the door. If Abigail Trevor hadn’t leaned forward when she did, he’d be dealing with another dead body.

He couldn’t think about that. He was surprised that someone had tried to kill her. He was expecting bribes, threats, intimidation. That was what his assignment brief had covered. The situation wasn’t supposed to turn violent—not yet, not without any warning first to make it clear to Abigail what was at stake. This was more dangerous than he had realized, which made it all the more imperative that he keep her safe.

“Can you get off me, please? I can’t breathe. I’m not kidding. I have asthma.” Her voice was thin but firm.

Ah, Christ. It wouldn’t do to save her from bullets only to have her die of asphyxiation. Careful of the glass, he rolled to the side and helped her turn over without cutting herself.

She took a wheezing gulp of air, sat up and coughed.

“Do you have one of those inhaler things?” he asked.

She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m not sure. Probably not.”

“Why not?” His tone was sharper than he’d intended.

She glared. “Because I changed purses this morning and I didn’t think to put the emergency inhaler in my bag. I was burying my brother. I was not expecting to get crushed by a giant.”

Her voice had a distinct edge to it now, but her eyes glistened with tears. She was more upset than angry. This had to be a nightmare for her and surprisingly, he felt bad for her. Again his conscience was taking him unawares.

He didn’t have time for the demons of his own remorse and he couldn’t do anything about her hurt feelings. Instead, he took her miniscule purse from the seat and dumped it on the floor of the limo. The time for being polite or charming was long past. What mattered now was looking after her as best he could.

“Hey,” she wheezed.

Hairbrush, wallet, lipstick, cell phone, compact—nothing resembling an inhaler. Damn.

“I could’ve just reached in and looked for it,” she protested. Another coughing fit racked her small frame.

“Quicker this way,” he muttered. He tried to fit everything back in the impossibly tiny bag and was alarmed by the ferocity of her coughs. Naturally, the contents wouldn’t fit.

Women’s purses. He’d been all over the world, faced exotic things that had made grown men gawk while he stood unmoved. Still, a woman’s purse seemed just a bit forbidden and slightly mysterious.

He quit trying to shove in the hairbrush and pulled his cell phone back from his pocket. At this point, he’d be better off doing something he was capable of—letting Donner know about the new wrinkle in their situation.

“What kind of inhaler do you use?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“What kind of meds do you need for your asthma?”

“Who are you?” she repeated, breathless with confusion and discomfort.

“I’m someone who’s here to protect you and right now I’m your pharmacist. What kind of meds do you need?”

“An albuterol nebulizer and Symbicort.” She gave him the milligrams. “I think I could use an EpiPen, too.”

“All right.” He typed the instructions into his phone.

Donner replied immediately and Shaun grimaced.

He studied Trevor’s sister as she leaned her head back against the carpet. With all the shards of glass scattered about, it was easier for her to stay on the floor where she’d been originally. Her eyes were closed but he remembered their unusual color—like a single malt scotch.

He took the time to study her smooth, porcelain white skin. She had an exotic mole above her upper lip à la Cindy Crawford and features that were so delicate; she looked like a china doll—except for the wheezing that was growing progressively louder. He focused on her lips for any signs of asphyxia but they were still healthy and pink, not the slightest tinge of blue. Very soft looking, too. He looked away. Now was not the time to get distracted by a very kissable set of lips.

He debated explaining a bit more about what was going on but decided against it. She was struggling to breathe and she needed to be able to concentrate to understand the Pandora’s box that had been opened with her brother’s death. He settled for taking care of her instead. Over the years he’d found that actions tended to speak much louder than words, anyway.

“Do you need to see a doctor?” he asked.

She didn’t open her eyes. “If I get my meds, I’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t so sure about that. He reached for her wrist. “I want to take your pulse.”

She didn’t argue and that concerned him more than anything. He took her hand in his. It was small like the rest of her and her nails were free of polish. Her wrist felt impossibly fragile as he counted the frantic beats. Her eyes were still closed and he took the opportunity to stare at her once more.

Her black skirt was pulled up to midthigh; she obviously hadn’t realized that yet. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t getting an eyeful. He was so distracted by the fact that she wore stockings and a garter belt instead of traditional panty hose that initially he didn’t realize he was gaping. He contemplated the red lace straps attached to gossamer nylons while he tried to take her pulse and glanced back at her face to find her staring straight at him.

Busted. He dropped her hand with a plop.

What was wrong with him? He didn’t get distracted, especially in the middle of work. Of course in the midst of being shot at, he didn’t usually see women in red garter belts with beautiful legs, either. Abigail Trevor was his own personal fantasy come true. Too bad it had to be happening in the middle of a job gone completely sideways.

“Your resting pulse is 120. That’s pretty high.”

“It’s not a resting pulse rate when someone’s shooting at you,” she snapped, pulling her skirt down to hide his tantalizing view. “Can I sit up now?”

He moved back carefully to make room for her. “Sure, if you feel like it.”

“I’ll be able to breathe better that way.” Avoiding the glass, she propped herself up on an elbow.

He was mindful not to focus on her legs or the way her outfit, that wasn’t made for crawling around on the floor of a limo, strained across her chest.

“Please tell me what’s going on.” Her breathing intensified when she hauled herself to a sitting position.

“I’m here to protect you, that’s a promise.”

“You said that. And I suppose if you meant me harm, you wouldn’t be ordering asthma meds.”

He nodded as she continued to wheeze and his phone vibrated. Donner was sending more instructions. Shaun leaned forward to give Carl the new directions.

“Once you get your medicine, we’ll talk.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” she muttered but again she didn’t argue and given her earlier behavior, that ratcheted up his concern.

Moments later Carl pulled up in front of the Washington Marriott Wardman Park. Shaun wondered if he could get a severely asthmatic woman through the lobby without attracting attention.

The valet opened the door, no comment beyond a raised eyebrow to find both passengers seated on the carpet surrounded by the remnants of broken windows. Who knew what the man thought? He’d probably seen it all. Shaun and Abigail looked as if they’d been having sex on the floor of the limo, except for the glass bits all around them. Shaun tipped the doorman two twenties as he crawled out.

Glass skittered to the ground when he stood. He reached back to help Abigail get brushed off and out of the car. More shards fell to the pavement with tiny chinking sounds. Carl drove off as soon as the door closed behind her.

Abigail coughed and her eyes widened ever so slightly when she saw where they were. Squaring her shoulders, she walked with him toward a side entrance from the valet stand.

“How you doing?” he asked.

She nodded but didn’t speak. Instead she held tightly to his arm, seemingly focused on making it through the door and down a long corridor filled with elegant chairs arranged in private seating areas. Opulent oriental rugs muffled their steps in this older wing of the hotel.

No one else was waiting for an elevator. Once inside the wood-paneled car, she leaned heavily against him and took more deep wheezing breaths. He was glad they were almost there. Her lips were no longer the healthy pink they’d been in the limo.

Shaun hung on to her when they exited and she almost made it to the door of their suite before her knees buckled. He pulled out the key card he’d been given earlier in case a “safe house” was needed, unlocked the door and carried her the final few steps across the threshold into the richly appointed living room. The master bedroom had a large balcony and sliding glass doors with a spectacular view of the National Zoo. The far more interesting sight was the large white pharmacy package beside the bed and the nebulizer that was already assembled.

Donner’s second team was fast and Shaun was grateful. He’d sent the text only twenty minutes ago. Normally he himself was the one racing around like a bat out of hell, setting this stuff up. He wasn’t sure how Donner had this task executed so quickly unless he’d known Abigail was asthmatic. But then, Donner was known for being prepared for every eventuality.

Maybe Shaun’s job wasn’t quite as secure as he’d thought. He saved that happy thought for another time and tore open the bag.

Inside were all the requested medications including an EpiPen. Abigail was reaching for it and had the wrapper off before he said anything. She pressed the auto-injector to her thigh above the top of that stocking that had so fascinated him earlier and reached for the other items, as well.

She opened the emergency albuterol inhaler, using it twice before speaking. “I’ll do a treatment with the machine, too.”

She picked up the mouthpiece for the nebulizer and flipped the switch. A tiny stream of smoke poured out. Putting her mouth over the vapor-filled end, she started breathing in the medication. It looked as if she was smoking a hookah.

“You want something to drink?” he asked, feeling a bit like a voyeur.

“Water would be great. Thanks,” she murmured between puffs. The change in her breathing from moments before was remarkable. He left her and texted his boss from the kitchen to tell him that they’d arrived and to take the heat for blowing his cover so soon.

His phone rang immediately. “What happened?” asked Donner. “I didn’t even think you were going to talk to her at the funeral.”

“It was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“I’ll trust your judgment on that,” said Donner.

“’Tis what you pay me for.” Shaun wasn’t absolutely sure he trusted himself on this, but he wasn’t telling Donner that now. “Are you coming to explain the situation, or shall I?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Shaun snagged two bottles of water from the fridge. He started to go back in the bedroom, but Abigail’s nebulizer was still puffing like a steam engine. Within a few minutes he heard it stop and her heels clicked on the hardwood of the bedroom floor. He stood. Abigail didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who was going to wait long for answers once she was back on her feet. Better to meet her head-on. Maybe that way, he could stall until Donner got there.

He met her in the living room doorway. “I brought your water. You sure you don’t want to lie down?”

She unscrewed the bottle cap and sipped the drink before spearing him with those whiskey-colored eyes. “No thanks. I’d rather talk in here.”

“Let’s sit.”

“This is all very civilized.” Her deep Southern accent came pouring out with no trace of the wheeze in her voice, but there was plenty of sarcasm. “However, I’d prefer we cut to the chase. Who are you and what’s going on?”




Chapter Three


Abby stared hard at him, daring him to lie to her. Her breathing was stable and for now she was holding it together but she knew she didn’t have a lot of time before the adrenaline surge wore off, jet lag kicked in and the day came crashing down on her. Still, as long as she was able, she was going for answers and right now she wanted the truth about what had just happened.

“I’ll tell you everything I can.” He took a long sip of his own water and met her gaze without looking away.

For a moment she lost herself in his stare. His blue-green eyes were that mesmerizing, changing from emerald green to Caribbean blue depending on the light. Then she remembered admiring his face when she’d first met him and he’d implied he was a “friend” of Jason’s.

Had he lied about everything?

She glared, her blood heating for a completely different reason. Yeah, she was pretty sure he had. “Do you know who was shooting at us?” she asked.

“I have no idea.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Shaun Logan.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“From whom?”

“From those who would do you harm.”

“Why does someone want to harm me?” She began to settle in her seat as she slipped off her shoes and tucked her aching feet underneath her.

“I’m not at liberty to sa—”

“Oh, bull.” He didn’t rise to the bait.

“Did you even know my brother?” she asked a moment later.

“I’d met him.” He took another pull on the bottle.

“Did you sleep with him?”

He coughed and sputtered, the question obviously taking him by surprise. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“I want to know. He was my brother. You approached me claiming you were friends. I want to know how much of that was a lie.” Her voice broke on that last word as she felt the loss and toll of the day begin to catch up with her.

“All I said was that I was an admirer of his work. That much is true. But if you need to know, then no, I didn’t sleep with your brother. For the record, I’m straight, not gay.”

Right. She’d pretty much guessed that when she’d caught him checking out her legs in the limo, but she’d wanted to know for sure. She studied him like a bug under glass, and to his credit he didn’t flinch beyond that initial splutter with the water. Instead, he leaned back into the plush sofa.

“Some people might find your line of questioning offensive,” he added.

“You said you’d tell me everything you could.”

He shook his head and narrowed his own stare for a moment. Other men might have raked their eyes down her body to make their point, but his eyes never left hers.

He looked deeply into her face, reading her and letting Abby clearly see that yes, he’d been aware of everything—just as she had in the limo. He’d felt her body beneath his, he’d enjoyed it and he wouldn’t mind repeating the experience—minus the flying bullets.

She wasn’t unused to being examined in what seemed such a personal way, but it had been a while. She was fascinated and uncomfortable at the same time. She didn’t want to think about how this made her feel. Certainly not now. She moved on to a new topic.

“Who do you work for?” she asked.

“Zip Tech.”

She snorted. “The same company as Jason. I don’t know that I believe that.”

“Why not?”

“You’re definitely not an engineer.”

“There are other jobs at the company.”

There was a knock at the door and he stood to answer it. Abby didn’t know what to expect—certainly not for the CEO of Zip Tech to walk into the hotel suite. She’d seen Donner’s picture before in Newsweek. Today he wore an expensive Italian suit and shoes that she guessed had cost more than her own designer ones.

“Hello, Miss Trevor. I’m Michael Donner. I’m terribly sorry to meet you under these circumstances. How are you feeling?” He reached out to shake her hand then sat across from her without any preamble. He was tall and almost as big as Shaun but fair-haired and not quite as buff.

She noticed that Shaun had snapped to attention when he walked in. Was this who Shaun had been texting from the limo? Come to think of it, she remembered him saying something to the driver about Donner, but she’d been too distracted by trying to breathe to notice at the time.

“I’ve been better, thanks. So what am I doing here under these circumstances?” she asked.

“You’re Jason’s sister and you’re in danger. We want to help you.”

“Why am I in danger?” This was feeling more and more like Alice down the rabbit hole by the minute.

“Your brother’s work was very valuable,” said Donner.

“I know nothing about Jason’s work. He took those nondisclosure agreements very seriously and didn’t share technical details with me. Not that I’d have understood them, anyway.”

Donner nodded. “It’s not just a question of what he might have told you, though. Our concern is what he left behind. You’re his sole beneficiary—and the only one who might be able to access the files putting you at risk.”

“I’m sorry. You’ve completely lost me.”

“Jason was our top engineer on a wireless security project. His hardware and software designs were at the heart of Zip Technologies’s newest product, Zip-Net. I believe his security protocol will revolutionize cell phone capabilities.”

She nodded. Jason had been so excited about his job. She hadn’t realized the magnitude of its significance till now. “But that still doesn’t explain why someone was shooting at me.”

“We believe the shooter wants something from you. Something that Jason wasn’t willing to hand over. Something that may have been responsible for his accident.”

“I thought my brother’s hit-and-run was random.”

“We’re not so sure.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean? And who’s we?”

“Shaun and I. We don’t think your brother’s death was an accident. We think he was murdered.”



“MURDERED?” ONCE MORE ABBY felt the world tilt. “What? Do the police know about this? Are they investigating?”

“Yes,” said Donner. “The police are investigating as much as they intend to. We are as well.”

“I don’t understand. Why you? Why aren’t you letting the authorities handle it all?”

“Because they don’t want to believe there’s more here than a simple hit-and-run. It’s a delicate situation. Allow me to explain. May I call you Abigail?”

“Please…everyone calls me Abby.”

“My name’s Michael.”

She nodded impatiently. “Delicate how, Michael?” Her voice rose on that last word as her composure slipped over the edge of the cliff.

“Like I said, your brother created a new kind of security protocol that’s quite unique. I believe he’s changed how all cellular and data networks will be designed and secured from now going forward. I also think he may have been harmed because of his work.”

“Harmed?” She shot a look at Shaun. “You’re using that word, too. Harmed is getting your arm broken, Mr. Donn—Michael. My brother was hit by a car going at least fifty miles an hour through a crosswalk in Dupont Circle. He was dead before he hit the pavement. Harmed is not the word I would choose to describe that, especially if, as you suggest, it was done deliberately.”

Donner had the grace to look embarrassed as she continued. “I don’t understand why you believe it was murder. Isn’t the product he created already in use? The design is out there and you have a patent, I’m sure? What reason would anyone have to hurt Jason over a product he’s already completed?”

Donner nodded. “While we’ve already rolled out the first generation of the product and it’s working quite well for our initial customer, it’s not entirely accurate to say that Jason’s work was done.”

“Why is that?”

Donner glanced at Shaun before answering. “We have another client who has asked for an exclusive contract for the first five years. Normally we wouldn’t award a relatively new technology with such potential to an exclusive customer, but this is a special case because of who the client is.”

“Well, who is it?” she asked.

Donner cut his eyes back toward Shaun then again to her. “The Department of Homeland Security. They want the exclusive in order to use Zip-Net for all their cellular communications security. It’s an amazing opportunity. It would fast-track this technology into the stratosphere. Millions of dollars are at stake. Company growth will skyrocket. Assembly line jobs will boom just to keep up with the demand. And as the cherry on top, our national security will be better served than ever before. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

She watched him as he talked and could see why he was considered to be so charismatic. Despite her confusion she felt pulled in by the force of his personality—his mannerisms, his gestures. Mentally she shook herself.

“Your brother was handling some debugging issues for the program the morning he died. You can imagine with an operation this large, it can get ‘glitchy’ at times, especially when it’s just going online. He was about to install upgrades to take care of that.”

“Sure.” Abby nodded. She didn’t have a lot of computer expertise but she knew how easy it was for her own PC to get “glitchy.”

“Up until then Jason hadn’t been sharing the software upgrade plans or file on the company network and frankly, I didn’t require him to. Industrial espionage is rampant in this industry and after checking to make sure he had firewalls in place on his home computer, we let him safekeep the information the best way he saw fit. The fewer people with access the better. I see now that was a huge error on my part. We never expected anyone to resort to murder.”

“But how can you be sure it was murder? The police seem convinced it was an accident.”

“If it was an accident that your brother died right before turning in the updates, that would be quite a coincidence—don’t you think? If we can’t make those upgrades, the government contract won’t go through. The consequences for not delivering the product would be catastrophic to Zip Tech and to this new protocol because of the blow it will be to our company’s credibility. Any ‘accidents’ at this time would make me suspicious, but then for you to be attacked at the funeral? Bullets aren’t an accident, Abby. Someone fired those shots on purpose.”

“And your competitors would kill me and my brother to see that technology fail?”

“Unfortunately, some would. We’re talking about a billion-dollar security industry that’s about to be turned on its ear.”

“I don’t understand.” But she did; she just didn’t want to believe it. Her stomach threatened to rebel and her skin grew clammy. Everything felt so surreal. Jason was a lovable, geeky guy, and this all sounded like something out of a spy novel. How did he turn into a target? How did she turn in to a target?

“The next generation of cell phone traffic will be carried exclusively over the internet. Security isn’t just one of the issues in cell phone communication, it’s the only issue. Your brother designed an exceptionally unique product with an unbreakable code that keeps cellular traffic completely confidential. Unhackable. Homeland Security is so confident in the technology that they are willing to contract exclusively with Zip Technologies for security services. But in order for that to happen, we need the upgrade file, and we need to find it fast. There’s an issue of a delivery deadline. We have four days to get the updates installed or this contract with Homeland Security is dead in the water.”

“What kind of updates are you talking about? It sounds like more of a major flaw in the system,” she observed.

Now it was Shaun glancing at Donner. The CEO nodded.

“The bugs in the system right now aren’t just glitches, they’re showstoppers,” Shaun explained. “We must find the fix Jason created the morning he died, going in through the back door.”

“What do you mean by back door?” she asked.

“’Tis technical.”

“Make me understand,” she argued.

“Many engineers put special signatures on their work. It used to be a vanity piece. Now it’s a way into the system they’ve created so they can tweak things if necessary without having to go through all the security after production. It’s a shortcut. We’ve got a major bug that needs modification and the only way to fix it is if we can have access to that ‘back door’ Jason created.”

“What kind of bugs are we talking about?” she asked.

“The kind that will make the system fail…catastrophically.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened as understanding dawned.

Donner spoke up. “Here’s where it gets tricky and highly confidential. Zip Tech is due to sign that contract with Homeland Security and pass over control of the system at midnight in four days’ time. Once we sign, we’ll no longer be able to modify the program, even through that back door. Zip Tech must have your brother’s security upgrades to make the changes beforehand—afterward, we won’t have access. Once DHS signs off on the contract, government engineers with the necessary security clearances take over and we step away. Without those upgrades from your brother, the DHS network will be vulnerable to hacking.”

He paused a moment, no doubt to let the implication sink in. A Homeland Security network that wasn’t secure.

“Why not just tell Homeland Security the truth?” she asked.

Donner stood. “Zip Tech can and will tell if we can’t get the updates in time. But once we do, the company loses everything. Not just a government contract. We’re ‘all in’ at this point. When negotiations began with Homeland Security about Zip-Net, our company made certain modifications to the design based on the government’s specifications. Based on those specifications, Zip-Net is no longer viable for anyone but that first client and Homeland Security unless other large companies with broad user bases also adopt the technology. Which is definitely what we’re hoping for, but it would take time.”

Donner stepped into the kitchen area and poured himself a glass of water as he continued. “In this industry, six months is like three years. We’d lose our market advantage completely. Not to mention our investors. If this contract doesn’t go through, the company is finished.”

“I know this is overwhelming and a lot to take in,” said Shaun. “But you deserve to know the truth about what happened to Jason—why he was killed. Why you could be next.”

“You’re saying my brother was murdered to stop this DHS contract from going through?”

Donner nodded. “People have died for less.”

Abby sighed. “That doesn’t explain why someone was shooting at me. I don’t have this upgrade file you’re speaking of.” She looked at Shaun as she spoke but he said nothing else. He just leaned against the living room side of the kitchen counter sipping his own bottled water.

“Are you sure about that?” asked Donner.




Chapter Four


“What do you mean?” asked Abby.

“I think you might know more than you realize,” said Donner.

She didn’t answer but her blood began to boil as he continued.

“You have access to all your brother’s papers and files in his home office at his condo. As his only relative, you’ll soon have access to his safety deposit box, as well.”

“Yes.” She tried to tamp down her temper and the growing disbelief that he could possibly be asking for this, today of all days. But a part of her was grateful for the anger that was snapping her out of the grief and overwhelming hopelessness of the situation. She put on her best Southern belle smile even as the acid in her stomach burned. “What do you really need, Michael?” she asked.

“Access to your brother’s laptop. The upgrade file must be there somewhere. Specifically we need the password. Our people have been at it for several days now and haven’t been able to come up with anything that works. His personal security system on the computer will erase all the data if we keep trying incorrect passwords.

“For everyone’s sake, we desperately need those upgrade plans. We’ve been through Jason’s files at Zip Tech’s offices but we can’t find the information we’re looking for anywhere. Once the product is complete, you’ll no longer be a target. Until then, we can protect you. But none of this can end until you help us find those upgrades.”

As he explained, the ugly truth became obvious. Zip Tech had already been in Jason’s condo looking for the file. Though he tried to twist things to sound as if this was all in her best interest, the man clearly had no qualms about blackmailing her to get what he needed.

“Surely he has a backup for all this valuable data? I mean otherwise couldn’t a competitor just type in the wrong password until they wiped the system?”

“Yes, I’m sure he did have a backup…somewhere. Unfortunately, we can’t find that, either. Believe me, our people have looked. That’s why we need your help.”

“So you’ve already been in his condo? Uninvited?” She smiled a particularly sugary grin and felt her blood pressure spike up a notch.

Michael smiled back, a sheepish quality to it that she knew was meant to be endearing. Under other circumstances, he might have been considered charming. He knew he’d been caught but he still didn’t realize how badly he’d screwed up.

Her literature students could have told Michael Donner that he was about to be pulverized. She might look and sound like a pushover, but she had a reputation as one of those professors you did not tick off unless you had a death wish for your GPA. And you did not lie to Abby Trevor under any circumstances. Grad students called her “the carnivorous steel magnolia.”

She’d fostered that notoriety in her teaching.

She could be a pit bull and once she was angry, even she knew it was a long, difficult road back into her good graces.

The way she saw it, Michael was all about Zip Technologies needing her brother’s upgrade file. Oh, he tried to frame it as a step for the greater good—even for her own protection—but she was smart enough to read between the lines. He cared much less for her safety than he did for the success of his company. If he was truly concerned about her, he would have come to her from the beginning instead of waiting for the attacks to start so he could hold her safety hostage against the guarantee of her cooperation. Additionally, the way his people had broken into Jason’s condo made her hopping mad and slightly ill at the same time.

Well, to hell with Donner. She didn’t care what happened with Zip Technologies’s contract with Homeland Security. As for her safety…well, that’s what the police were for. Whether or not they believed the hit-and-run that killed her brother was deliberate, surely they couldn’t claim the shots fired were accidental.

“He signed a waiver fo—”

Donner was talking but she didn’t let him finish.

“Tell me, did that agreement say you could waltz into his home and take anything you wanted whenever you wanted in the event of his death?” she asked.

Donner looked a bit taken aback at being interrupted. After all, he’d graced the covers of Forbes and Newsweek. She had a feeling he wasn’t used to women not falling all over him.

“Jason signed nondisclosure agreements and proprietary information clauses at Zip Tech.”

“But no agreements to allow you a search and seizure in his home after his death? You’re a high-tech company, not the Gestapo, but that’s what this feels like.”

“Ms. Trevor…Abby, I—”

She kept talking, just like she did in her lectures when a student tried to interrupt her before she was finished making her point.

“I’m distinctly uneasy with what you are asking and what you’ve already undertaken without permission. Until I speak with an attorney, I’m not comfortable with you or any other employees of Zip Technologies entering my brother’s home. I won’t press charges at this point—but do it again and I’ll have your people arrested.”

“I don’t understand, Abby. Someone was just shooting at you.”

“That’s right. And I have no idea who they were. It could have been your competition. Could have been you for all I know, trying to scare me into trusting you just to get into Jason’s condo. I do have a question though. If Jason was so valuable, why didn’t you have security with him while he was doing this upgrade work? You were awfully complacent to have such a valuable employee climbing in his car and driving away every night with the future of your company on his laptop in a briefcase. Seems you might have seen this coming. And if you couldn’t protect him, why should I believe you’ll be able to protect me? I’d be more comfortable with the authorities handling this. Why can’t we call the police about Jason?”

“I have,” said Donner as he came to sit across from her again. “They don’t think your brother’s accident was anything more than that.”

“But surely after today’s shooting in the cemetery, the police will reconsider?” She stared hard at them both, her anger still fizzing.

“Perhaps.” Donner didn’t sound very hopeful. “I’ve been dealing with a Detective Diaz. It might help if you spoke with him.”

“I’d very much like to do that, I’ll just get my phone. It’s in the bedroom.”

“Use mine,” offered Donner. “I have Detective Diaz’s direct number in my contacts.” He handed her his cell. “He’s the officer in charge of your brother’s case.”

“That’s not who I spoke to when I identified his body,” said Abby.

“There are many layers there at the department,” reassured Donner. “We’ll step outside, if you’d like some privacy.”

“No, I’ll go.” She stood and walked barefooted onto the balcony that overlooked the city.



AS SOON AS SHE WAS OUT OF earshot, Donner turned to Shaun. “You’re sure you’ve got this under control? She can’t be left alone.”

Shaun nodded. “Of course. Though I want to know what the devil happened in the cemetery. That was insanity.”

Donner shrugged. “I agree but I don’t know if even this will convince Diaz to investigate Jason’s death as anything more than an accident. I have no idea what he’ll say about this latest incident but it will definitely be better coming from her than me. He already thinks I control too much.”

Shaun raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say?”

Abigail returned from the balcony a few moments later, shaking her head in confusion. The angry look on her face told Shaun exactly how the conversation had gone.

“Diaz says there’s been quite a bit of recent gang-related activity in the area around the cemetery. He thinks that’s what happened and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’s sending out an officer to investigate at the cemetery, but he doesn’t think the shooting is in any way related to Jason’s accident.”

She handed Donner’s phone back to him. “I don’t like this,” she mumbled.

Shaun started to say something but Donner spoke first, pushing the advantage like the business shark he was. “Will you let Zip Tech help? We can offer you protection that no one else can. And if you help us find the file, you can resolve the situation for all of us at the same time.”

“I don’t want to but I don’t see that I have much of a choice. Tell me why I should help you besides the fact that you’re offering protection as a kind of blackmail?” she asked. “If I can even locate the upgrades how do I know that will make the attacks end?”

Shaun spoke up. “There are no guarantees. But Abigail, I’m certain the shooting in the cemetery was related to your brother’s file. I’m also certain that someone has already searched your brother’s home without you knowing it.”

“Someone besides Zip Tech? Sounds like there should be a revolving door on Jason’s condo.” She sounded angry and he couldn’t blame her. She had to be scared and completely exhausted at this point.

Unfortunately that was exactly how he needed her. He didn’t want her thinking she could take care of herself alone. And since she didn’t appear to know anyone else in town, he had to make himself indispensable. Still, it was obvious she didn’t trust Donner and right now the jury was still out on how she felt about him. It wouldn’t be easy to bring her around—and would it actually pay off in the end?

The biggest question was did she even know her brother’s computer password?

Either way, she was clearly too upset with Donner right now to share any information she might have. Shaun signaled for his boss to leave, and Donner stood to walk out. He’d given his explanations, as unwelcome as they were, and was leaving Shaun to deal with the consequences. That was his job, after all.

“Abby, regardless of what you decide to do, I think it best if you let Shaun stay. He won’t let anything happen to you. This is what he does.”

Donner’s hand was on the doorknob but Shaun could tell Abigail wasn’t buying it. And Shaun was staying out of it until Michael Donner was on his way. He could tell she was on the verge of throwing something at his boss’s head whether Donner realized it or not.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she said to Donner’s retreating back.

He was halfway out the door but snapped around to answer. “No, you didn’t. But I’m giving it anyway. Please, let Shaun look after you. No matter what you think of me, I’m not burying two Trevors in one week. I won’t be put in that position.” Then he was gone, closing the door behind him with a barely audible click.

She turned on Shaun as the door closed. “How long is this suite paid for?”

“It’s reserved for the entire week.”

“I’ll stay tonight. Alone. I don’t want you here. I’m fine by myself. I want Zip Tech out of my life.”

Shaun revised his thoughts about her similarity to the china doll. She was marble. Cool and unmovable. But was she unbreakable? Time would tell.

She needed more time or as much as he could spare before he’d know the answer to that. Donner was usually smoother and Shaun wasn’t sure if there was any recovery for his boss practically admitting they’d broken into her brother’s condo. Giving Abigail space was the first step, and being as honest as he could be. He felt the now familiar stab of conscience. So…telling the truth would be a stretch for him. “Right. I can understand why you want me out—”

“You don’t understand a damn thing, Shaun Logan. If you did you wouldn’t have fed me that crappy story at the cemetery about knowing Jason and admiring his work. Earlier you said you had met him. Did you really? Had you ever even seen him before the viewing today in that casket?”

Shaun nodded. “Yes, I met him at a corporate function last month. And I rode in an elevator with him two weeks ago.”

She stared at him and a crack appeared in her marble facade as a lone tear streaked down her cheek. She brushed the moisture away.

“Are you going to find who killed him?”

“I’m going to try, but my priority is to keep you safe.”

“Okay. You’re still not getting near his papers because I don’t give a rip about Zip Tech’s problems, and I don’t want you anywhere near me. But thank you for looking into his death. Now, I want you out of here.”

“I don’t want to leave you by yourself.”

“I’m a big girl—I’ll be fine.”

He raised an eyebrow as she stood. Yes, he had to agree, Abigail was very fine indeed. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to walk to the door or get into a tussling match with her. And while that might be fun under other circumstances, now was definitely not the time. He wasn’t going to point out that there were two rooms here in the suite.

He’d just go downstairs and get the room across the hall from her if it was available and sit with his door open. And if it wasn’t available, he’d set himself up outside the suite as her personal bodyguard. She’d never know he was there. He doubted she planned to go anywhere tonight.

At the door she surprised him with another question. “Donner said this is what you do. What did he mean? What do you really do for Zip Tech?”

He’d never felt queasy explaining his job, but under her penetrating stare, he did. He knew he had to tell her the truth. It was the first test for him here. But how? Hard and fast like ripping off a Band-Aid or with finesse?

He took a guess along with a deep breath and gave it to her straight. Finesse would be wasted, anyway. There wasn’t really a polite way to describe what he did. “I’m a fixer.”

“Pardon me?”

“I fix problems. You know. Company vice president’s son gets a DUI, I help keep him out of jail and make sure it doesn’t get in the papers. An executive’s mistress threatens to tell the Mrs. about their affair, I pay the woman off. I keep Donner, his company executives and their families looking happy and prosperous for all the world to see and examine.”

Shaun trusted Donner and up until this morning he’d always done the job without a qualm of conscience but with this woman, he was uncomfortable. It was a unique and unpleasant experience. He had no idea where those feelings were coming from, he just knew he didn’t like them. She studied his eyes, seemingly not nearly as put off by his job description as he had expected her to be.

“So now you get to try and fix me?” she asked, challenging him with her open gaze, all but inviting him to fight back.

For the first time today he allowed himself to really look at her, not just sneaking glances when she wasn’t aware of him. It was different from earlier when she’d asked him about his sexual orientation. She’d practically been begging him to look at her then. So of course he hadn’t.

But now, he started at her feet and raked his eyes up her body, deliberately lingering at her hips and chest.

Her cheeks were flaming when he finally reached her face. He knew he’d been baited and it was profoundly unprofessional but he couldn’t regret what he’d permitted himself to do, particularly as it wouldn’t be happening again.

Still, he had to swallow before he spoke. “There’s not a damn thing wrong with you, Abigail. Not that I can see.”




Chapter Five


She glared at him and shook her head. Oh, he was a “fixer” all right. Good thing she’d had a big brother who’d taught her a thing or two about men. Tears burned the back of her eyes as she fought to stifle a sniff. No way would she cry in front of this man.

“I would imagine you are quite good at your job, Shaun Logan. But don’t think you’re going to charm yourself into my brother’s condo or laptop that easily.” She shooed him out the door.

The expression on his face would have been comical if she hadn’t been hurting so badly. Suddenly she was spoiling for a fight. One part of her knew she was putting off the inevitable—being alone with her dismal thoughts and overwhelming sorrow. Hearing about Jason’s work, the importance of what he’d been doing, just drove home the heartache of his death.

Her brother hadn’t told her about the government contract, but she’d known he was hoping for something like this kind of opportunity when he took the job. He wouldn’t have worked his brains out without the hope of a fantastic payday or substantial job security. Zip Technologies had been his life for three years but everything that Shaun was saying rang true.

If Zip Tech failed because of something Jason had left undone, even inadvertently, it would be another tragedy to compound his death. But she couldn’t let go of her anger at the disrespect Donner had shown to Jason’s memory by searching his condo. She wasn’t sure she could ever trust him after that. Could she trust Shaun? She remembered the way he’d reacted when the shots had been fired, protecting her with his body. Was it wrong to want to trust the safety he’d provided?

With that in mind she dove into questioning Shaun as he stood in the hall. “Have you always worked for Michael Donner?” she asked.

“No.”

“What did you do before?”

“Same type of work,” he responded.

“And do you really think I have a role in this mess? I barely even knew about Zip-Net before today.”

He pinned her with those unusual eyes of his and she had the uncomfortable feeling she was being sized up even though she was the one asking all the questions. “Depends on you,” was his response.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

He moved toward the doorway and she fought against taking a step back into the suite, angry at herself and at him that she felt the need to retreat.

“Like Donner said, I believe you have information. Something you may not know you have from your brother. I need your cooperation to figure out what that is.”

“But I don’t have any information.”

“I think you may have access to the password to his computer or the location of the upgrade file and not realize it.”

She shook her head no but at the same time thought of last summer and using Jason’s laptop. She did have an idea about the password but she wasn’t sure she wanted to help and didn’t know how to respond without outright lying. She’d known that she could assist earlier when Donner had spoken of needing the password, but she’d been so incensed about his having gone into Jason’s home without permission she hadn’t considered it.

She didn’t want to consider it now.

So she did the only thing she could. She closed the door.

Or tried to. Shaun slid his foot neatly inside the door frame to stop her.

Angry, stalling and studying him at the same time, she was puzzling out what to say when the day completely crashed in on her—the funeral, the asthma attack, the shooting, the wild ride to the hotel and the awful revelation that Jason had been murdered. Plus she was starving on top of everything else—her body’s defense mechanism when stress took over.

Food. She wanted it. Now. Almost as badly as she wanted him gone.

“May I take you to dinner?” he asked.

“I can’t do this anymore, Shaun. I can’t think about this situation right now. Please move your foot.” Her stomach growled, betraying her and punctuating the request.

She tried to close the door again and only meant to glance at him a final time because now she was exhausted on top of being irritated. But those uniquely colored eyes bored into hers, more emerald than blue-green now, and surprisingly her irritation turned to frank interest as her resistance melted like a snowball on a hot sidewalk.

“I’m ordering room service,” she declared, more to convince herself than him.

Forcefully breaking eye contact, she gave in to the toll of the day’s events. She was totally out of emotional and physical energy to spend on this…on him. She didn’t shut the door. She just let go of the handle and walked back to the sofa.

He followed her inside the suite. “Why don’t you rest while I make arrangements for dinner?” he offered.

“If I go to sleep now I won’t wake up for a month. I’d rather eat first.”

“Of course.” He nodded and picked up the room service menu from the coffee table. “What would you prefer?” His question, spoken in that lovely rhythmic cadence hung in the air as thunder rumbled outside. Rain pummeled the window and suddenly everything here felt too intimate, too close. Abby didn’t want to be alone in a room with this man who set her libido to buzzing simply by talking and looking at her. In her diminished state of resistance that could be very bad.

“I think I’d rather go to the restaurant downstairs. Can we do that?”

“Whatever you’d like.”

Whatever she’d like was a loaded phrase and one she wasn’t going to dwell on. What she’d like was this man’s hands on her body, a huge glass of Merlot, ten hours of sleep and most of all…Jason. Laughing, joking, taking her shopping. Alive.

But none of that was going to happen. Her brother was buried in a grave less than ten miles from where she stood. He was never coming back. The people who killed him might be coming for her next, and she had no idea who to trust, who to believe. As comforting as oblivion might be, if she had a glass of wine right now on an empty stomach, she’d fall asleep on the spot or do something incredibly foolish with her new bodyguard.

No way was she going to bed with Shaun Logan. Not after everything she’d learned today. And definitely not after he’d lied to her.



“I’M FINE WITH WATER.” Abby sat across from Shaun in an opulent dining room overlooking the Capitol and watching it rain. She was desperately trying not to get comfortable with him. With that Irish charm, he was pressing a glass of wine on her—despite her objections. And it was only four in the afternoon.

“You just buried your brother and someone tried to shoot you. Have a drink, Abigail.”

And whose fault was Jason’s death? Shaun’s? Donner’s? Some mysterious competitor’s? A terrorist trying to derail DHS? How could she know? That initial question more than anything had her sipping the Merlot more quickly than was prudent as Shaun drank iced tea. She was even ordering another glass after the salad, when she should have waited on the main course.

Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, putting on a display that many would have paid to see. The food arrived when she was halfway through the second glass of wine.

“What was it like growing up in Mississippi?” Shaun asked.

She shrugged, wary of his attempts to make her open up. She’d shut him down earlier when he’d brought up the possibility of going to Jason’s tonight.

She didn’t want to talk to him about her childhood. She’d spent a lot of money and time in a therapist’s office dealing with it. Lord knows after her parents’ upbringing, she’d needed the help.

“I’m not sure what to compare it to,” she finally answered. “My brother and I were very close. My parents and I weren’t. And while part of my childhood was quite wonderful…my teenage years were not.”

“Care to elaborate?”

She sighed. “My home was a difficult place to grow up in.”

She knew she should keep her mouth closed or better yet, take another bite of the luscious steak in front of her and chew till the urge to talk had passed. But she didn’t. Later she’d blame it on that second glass of Merlot.

“My parents always said we could tell them anything and they’d love us no matter what. They lied. When my brother came out of the closet, my parents disowned him. It was the spring semester of his senior year in college. I was sixteen years old. After Jason told them he was gay, they cut him off without a penny. I begged my father not to do it, but he wouldn’t listen. Jason barely scraped by that last semester, but he graduated with honors and never set foot in our house again until their funeral. I never forgave my parents for that.”




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