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Assignment: Bodyguard
Lenora Worth


Her father will accept only the best for Kit Atkins's protection. So when Kit is threatened, he calls on Shane Warwick, a CHAIM agent.Shane is calm, capable, protective–and way too charming for Kit's peace of mind. Yet despite her protests, Shane refuses to leave her side. As they hide out at a remote Texas ranch, a powerful bond grows between them, even as danger rises. Connections to the mysterious death of Kit's late husband reveal old betrayals. Suddenly, Kit's assigned bodyguard is the only person she can trust.









“You can count on me to protect you, to give my life for you if necessary. That is my job.”


Shane moved in front of Katherine, blocking her way. The music had stopped and all eyes were on the two of them.

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

Shane trained his eyes on the person who’d taken that picture and that’s when he saw it. There behind the roving photographer, a man dressed as a waiter stood silent, a gun trained on Katherine. In an instant, 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. Shane held Katherine close, his heartbeat racing to match hers, his prayers asking for protection as he tried to get a line on the 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.




LENORA WORTH


has written more than forty books, most of those for Steeple Hill. She has worked freelance for a local magazine, where she wrote monthly opinion columns, feature articles and social commentaries. She also wrote for the local paper for five years. Married to her high school sweetheart for thirty-five years, Lenora lives in Louisiana and has two grown children and a cat. She loves to read, take long walks, sit in her garden and go shoe shopping.




Assignment: Bodyguard

Lenora Worth







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


“But they lie in wait for their own blood; they lurk secretly for their own lives. So are the ways of everyone who is greedy for gain; it takes away the life of its owners.”

—Proverbs 1:18–19


To all of my Texas friends, with lots of love.




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

LETTER TO READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION




ONE


“Who is that handsome man wearing the tux?”

Katherine Barton Atkins thanked the waiter for her mineral water with a twist of lime, then glanced around at the woman who’d just asked that question. Red-haired Trudy Pearson had one elegant eyebrow raised in standard cougar mode while she stared across the crowded ballroom.

“Trudy, every man in the room has on a tux,” Katherine explained, bemused and just a little morose because of Trudy’s need to find a second husband, no matter what.

Some women just couldn’t handle being alone, but Katherine was determined not to be one of those. She couldn’t fault Trudy for trying, though. They were both widows now. Katherine had married her college sweetheart and Trudy had married an older man whom she’d loved with all her heart. And they’d both lost their husbands within six months of each other. After a year of being a widow, Katherine was trying to get on with her life while Trudy was trying to find a replacement. Katherine kept busy searching for something to fill her empty soul, while Trudy kept busy searching for a younger man because she was so afraid of growing old alone.

“Yes, darlin’ Kit,” Trudy replied in her sophisticated drawl, “every man in the room has on a tux, but only that man over there by the parlor fern knows how to wear one.”

Curious, Katherine kept smiling at the people passing by her, then looked in the direction of Trudy’s overly interested gaze, her expression shifting from disdain to dismissal as her gaze caught and held that of the man’s. She took a sip of her cold water, the elegant bracelet watch Trudy had given her for her last birthday dangling down her arm. “Oh, that man wearing the tux. He’s my detail.”

“Excuse me,” Trudy said, almost dropping her sparkling gold evening purse. “Your detail? What exactly does that mean? And I want the details, all of them. He’s positively yummy. And that tuxedo is tailor-made for him and only him.”

Kit touched her chignon then looked over at the tall, dark-haired man who was pretending he wasn’t looking over at her. “My father thinks I need a bodyguard. I told you about those strange hang-up calls and then the cryptic letters I received. He’s just being overly cautious because of this big crowd, I think.”

Trudy glanced over at Katherine’s father, Gerald Barton, who was standing with his wife, Sally Mae, talking to several other people. “Your daddy doesn’t looked worried so why the detail?”

“Oh, he’s not worried—because of the detail. You know my father hires only the best. And rumor has it this one is top of the line.” She didn’t want to give her friend the fact sheet on her bodyguard, nor did she tell Trudy about the feeling that someone had been in her house and office. She’d rather not talk about any of that tonight. She’d rather the bodyguard wasn’t here in the first place.

But her father was a top-level member of CHAIM, the elite private security organization that worked to protect people the world over. That made him a bit tense and paranoid at times. He’d been worried about her since her husband Jacob had died, but when Katherine happened to mention a few unexplained calls and some of her files being moved and shuffled around, her father had gone into overdrive.

Katherine indulged her father because she knew he meant well, but sometimes his protective nature stifled her. Such as tonight.

“Top of the line is the word, darlin’,” Trudy replied, her predatory gaze centered on the man. “He is the very definition of tall, dark and…dangerous.”

Katherine couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s description, but she tended to agree. At least this time, her father had hired a looker. “Yes, that’s him, brought in all the way from London, England. He was hand-picked to look out for me tonight. But I’m trying to ignore him.”

Trudy’s burgundy silk gown rustled as she stepped closer. “British and in a tux. How on earth can you ignore that, do tell?” Then she gave Kit a wry smile that held just a trace of condescension. “Oh, let me guess. You can’t say anything else about it, right?”

Her friend knew the complications of being the widow of a senator. And Trudy also knew that Katherine’s father worked for a mysterious, secretive organization. But Trudy understood discretion and privacy. Besides, it was just too hard to explain right now. “I’d rather not talk about it,” Kit said, completely aware that each time she moved an inch the dashing Sir Shane Warwick, known as the Knight, moved an inch with her. Turning away from the agent who worked for the covert Christian organization, she said, “This is a benefit, Trudy. I need to mingle with our patrons and thank them for their generosity toward the Barton Atkins Foundation.” She put down the water she’d been nursing and whirled around, her cream-colored evening gown whispering around her legs, her matching high-heeled satin sandals making her feet scream for release. “Now why don’t you quit ogling the man and help me greet my guests, okay?”

“Oh, all right,” Trudy replied, turning to whisper something to a nearby waiter. Winking at the waiter, she pivoted back to Kit. “But later, you and I are going to have a serious talk. If you’re in danger enough to need a handsome guard following you around, I need to know.” Then she touched a hand to Kit’s arm, her brown eyes turning serious. “I couldn’t bear it if—”

“I’m fine,” Kit said, wishing her father wasn’t so overbearing. “It just goes with the territory.”

Gerald Barton was one of the top agents in CHAIM—Christians for Amnesty, Intervention and Missions. And even though her father was supposedly retired, Kit had learned at an early age that a CHAIM agent never really retired. Especially when that agent’s only daughter had lost her husband under questionable circumstances and was, herself, constantly receiving threats because of her stand against injustice.

Frustrated with the restrictions on her life, she shook her head then silently chastised herself. Maybe a prayer of thanks would be more appropriate, considering she was loved and held dear by her family and her friends. And she was blessed beyond measure. Which made her quip, “I’d like to forget all of this, just for tonight, okay?”

Trudy nodded, then leaned in. “But, honey, you must be thinking the same thing I’m thinking. They never figured out what happened when Jacob’s helicopter went down. That crash might not have been an accident, no matter how hard the authorities tried to do a cover-up.”

“You don’t have to remind me of that,” Kit said, old hurts making her snap in spite of Trudy’s concerns. “I think about it every day of my life.” And she always hoped that somewhere in her philanthropic travels, she’d find out the truth regarding her husband’s death. But no one was willing to delve into that now. It was over and done.

Lord, give me strength and patience, she silently prayed. And teach me how to get over this deep grief.

“I’m sorry,” Trudy said. She dropped her arm and stood back. “Go do your job. But remember, you promised me you will take some time off for that spa trip we keep talking about. I’ve found a very secluded retreat out in New Mexico. Just the two of us. We need some downtime.”

Kit looked at her watch again, thinking she’d need to make a speech in a few minutes. “That would be good. I’ve been so busy planning tonight’s event, I think I’m a little overwrought. But, Trudy, thanks for your concern.”

Trudy gave her a quick peck on the cheek, her worried look changing to playful as she touched a finger to Kit’s pearls, lifting the strand for a second before she let the shimmering strand drop. “Whatever you think about him, that gorgeous man over there can’t seem to take his eyes off you, darlin’.”

“That’s because he’s being paid to keep his eyes on me,” Katherine countered.

“And I’m sure he’s enjoying his job,” Trudy replied as she waltzed away and into the crowd. “Maybe you should enjoy the company.”

Kit lifted her head, her hand going up to the single strand of pearls Jacob had given her for their tenth anniversary. They’d gone out to dinner and after they’d come home, he’d unclasped the pearls and hugged her close. They’d been fighting but he’d tried all that night to make up to her. “Promise me you’ll wear these every single day.”

“I promise,” she’d said. That was the last time she’d held him in her arms. Her husband was dead now, and in many ways, so was she. At least she felt dead inside. Her devout mother and former CHAIM operative, Sally Mae, would tell her to never give up hope, to turn to her faith. But how could that help now?

What did it matter if she was receiving death threats for her determined stance? She had work to do and she intended to do it, and no amount of empty threats would stop her. Her work was the only thing holding Kit together these days. Work was her salvation. So with a renewed determination that included ignoring the handsome, dedicated man who’d been shadowing her all night, Katherine put on a convincing smile then moved through the glittering crowd filing into the hotel ballroom, her mind going on autopilot as she played to the hilt the role of hostess.

Head up, shoulders back, and a serene expression. That was the Barton tradition, after all.



He shouldn’t have signed up for this. It was never a good idea to be in charge of taking care of a beautiful woman. Never a good idea, but then the Knight was known for taking on the tough cases. This one was killer tough. And so lovely.

Shane Warwick moved through the crowd, his gaze sweeping the room with a cool assessment. The ballroom was long and rectangular with shimmering crystal chandeliers and gleaming mirrored walls, which made it twice as hard to keep up with the subject under surveillance. Glass windows all around the big square room allowed an incredible view of downtown Austin, Texas, and the Colorado River, but Shane didn’t have time to look out the windows. If he took his eyes off Katherine Barton Atkins long enough, he could enjoy the view of the State Capitol gleaming brightly off in the distance. But he couldn’t look away from her and for more reasons than just this particular assignment required.

The woman was easy on the eyes, as they liked to say here in Texas.

Shane went over the facts, trying to distract himself from getting too involved. Getting involved with beautiful women was his gift and his downfall. Sometimes the job required certain things and sometimes he just fell hard for a pretty face then moved on once the excitement had worn off. He couldn’t allow that to happen this time. Mainly because if Shane crossed that line with this woman, her father and his superior, Gerald Barton, would shoot first and ask questions later, as they also liked to say here in Texas.

Back to the facts, he sternly reminded himself.

Katherine “Kit” Barton Atkins, daughter of wealthy CHAIM leader Gerald Barton and his wife, Sally Mae Barton, childless widow of State Senator Jacob Atkins, and CEO of the Barton Atkins Foundation. Old Texas money and all the perks and responsibilities of also inheriting her husband’s newly minted money to boot.

According to the information he’d been given, the young widow wasn’t a typical socialite. She believed in the causes she worked so hard for, even if it meant she had to attend such stuffy affairs as this one. And even if it meant she had to go out into the field and make her points with photo ops and highly opinionated, impassioned speeches. Plus, she didn’t seem to mind getting down and dirty or going into the fray. He’d seen pictures of her holding dying infants in third world countries; he’d seen pictures of her walking through storm-littered villages. And he’d seen an unauthorized shot of her standing in a corner, turned slightly away from the glare of the spotlight, her hand to her face, all alone and wearing exquisite white pearls and a severe black dress, just after they’d buried her husband.

But she hid her grief behind her work and that was why he was here. Her father was very concerned about her. Which made Shane concerned, too, and intent on protecting her. If he could keep the woman in his line of sight.

She moved through the crowd with a grace that reminded Shane of ballerinas and swans and all things lovely. Her whole persona exuded cool, blond elegance. Her evening gown was almost severe in its cut and color—shimmering and sleeveless but with a discreet beaded beige portrait collar and a skirt that flowed all around her in soft, folding wisps of designer-cut silk. And she was wearing what looked like the same pearls she’d worn to her husband’s funeral. Other than a pretty glittering watch on her left arm and her wedding band, the pearls were her only decoration. He wondered if she’d chosen this dress and jewelry on purpose—to set her apart from all the standard but predictable black and red formal dresses, festooned with sparkling jewels, fluttering all around her. Or had she just reached into her closet and come up with a winning combination of classic proportions? Either way, it worked for Shane.

Shane had always admired attractive women and he could spot a phony a mile away. Katherine was the real thing. Purebred and gracious, perfectly attired and perfectly serene. She seemed untouchable, unruffled and unconcerned, until she glanced up and straight into his eyes. Then she just looked determined and defiant.

Shane smiled to himself and put on his best game face. Kit was coming to greet him, at last. But she did not appear happy to see him.

“You’re becoming a nuisance, Sir Warwick,” she said as she walked up to him, a soft smile belying the dare in her pretty green eyes.

“Oh, really?” Shane took her hand and held it to his lips for the briefest of kisses. “And how’s that, Mrs. Atkins, since you have yet to even acknowledge me. I was beginning to think I’d lost my touch.”

She put a hand to her throat, diamonds twinkling on her finger. “Where are my manners?” Her smile didn’t change, but the expression in her cat-like eyes certainly did. “I thought it wasn’t proper for a woman to acknowledge the man her father hired to watch out for her, or was I wrong in that assumption?”

Shane adjusted his black tie. “Your father warned me about your attitude. And that you’d spot me the minute I entered the room.”

“Did he now?”

“He did indeed. Warned me about a lot of things. And told me not to let you out of my sight.” He leaned close and gave her a smile that had reportedly melted feminine hearts all across the globe. “And I must say, I don’t mind keeping my eyes on you at all. Your pictures don’t do you justice. You are quite beautiful.”

She inclined her head, pretending to enjoy being with him, even laughing for the benefit of those standing all around them. “Hmm. Let me see if I can get this straight. A dashing British secret agent in a precision-cut tux and a seemingly interested American woman in an overpriced evening gown. Their eyes meet across the crowded room, they walk toward each other, smiling and cordial…and the rest is written in the stars. Except I know how this ends. I’ve seen the movie. Your charms won’t work on me, Sir Warwick.”

Shane laughed out loud then looked into her eyes. She was actually very refreshing. Scary, but refreshing. “Ah, but you forgot the beautiful part.”

She touched the pearls at her throat. “Excuse me?”

“The beautiful interested woman,” he replied, smiling at his own cleverness. “And you are beautiful.”

She smiled, too. That was a good sign, at least. Then she stopped smiling. “And you forgot the seemingly part, you know, as in the seemingly interested woman. Only this woman is not interested—so cut the charm, Warwick. I’m on to you and I don’t like it one bit that you’d use charisma to try and win me over to allow you to hover around me. Get off my back, and give me some room here. I’ve got a full evening ahead of me and you’re in the way.”

Shane Warwick had to heave a surprised breath. There was a bit of fire underneath all that coolness, after all. “Your father also warned me that you’d try to lose me. But that, dear lady, isn’t going to happen.” There was only one way to handle such a bundle of bemusing contradictions and do his job at the same time, so he took her hand and whirled her out onto the dance floor. “I suggest we make the best of it…and dance.”

He was rewarded with a gasp of surprise followed by a tight smile that told him only the most practiced rules of decorum were keeping her from slapping him across the face.

And because of that, Shane grinned down at her and reveled in the way she flowed right into his arms. This waltz might prove either to win her over, or do him in. He’d lay odds on the last scenario. He needed to do some serious praying for patience and control, and that God would allow him to do his duty and protect this woman.

So things would turn out differently this time.

Putting those dark thoughts out of his mind, Shane held her tight, and after taking some time to look into her brightly mad green eyes, he moved his gaze from her pretty face to the other faces in the crowd.

And he wondered the whole time if someone in this VIP crowd had been sent here to murder her.




TWO


Kit breathed in the fresh soapy smell of Shane’s rich chocolate-colored hair. This wasn’t fair, the way he held her in his arms with an aloof possession. This wasn’t fair, the way her heart hurt from missing Jacob so much, the way her heart fluttered to life each time Shane bent his head and held her gaze with icy blue eyes, while he tried to search for all her secrets.

She wished her father hadn’t hired this particular man, wished her husband was still alive to dance with her, and wished she could just run away to some quiet island and grieve, really grieve, for all she’d lost the day her husband had died. But a Barton had to be strong; a Barton showed no grief. And so she was expected to carry on. Duty called. And only manners kept her from doing exactly that—up and running out of this room. And away from this man.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his British accent precise and crisp in her ear.

“What do you think?” she shot back, looking up at him. “People are staring.” Even her parents had stopped chatting to watch them move around the dance floor.

He dipped his head, his breath tickling against her earlobe. “We could go somewhere more private so we can discuss my concerns for your safety.”

“Nice try,” she said, lifting away. “But I need to stay here with the people who paid a hefty sum to get in this room tonight, sorry.”

He slid a glance around the room. “That’s perfectly all right by me, Mrs. Atkins. Less danger in a crowd. But sooner or later, we will need to talk about your father’s instructions.”

Kit could agree with that, but not right now. “Sooner or later, we’ll do that, maybe over a nice cup of tea,” she said. “Just not tonight.”

Apparently, he didn’t like her response. “You are aware that you might be in danger, right?”

“Very aware.” But the only danger she could see right now was the man dancing with her. No doubt, it was unwise to be alone with Shane Warwick. So she played her part and carried on until she could figure out what to do next.

“Call me Kit,” she said, wondering why she’d decided to give him that liberty. “And I hate crowds, but I can’t leave.”

He smiled at that. “So you force yourself to do this, anyway? Because you believe in what you do even though events like this are sometimes tedious but necessary.”

Surprised that he got her, she nodded. “Yes. I’m a rather shy, private person but I learned a long time ago I can’t live that way. And I won’t hide away like a coward, no matter what you and my father think. And no matter how big the crowd, and no matter the situation.”

He studied her as they glided around the room. “I’m aware of the crowd, and very much aware of the situation. Heads are turning, whispers are surfacing, but that’s not my concern right now.”

“Well, it is mine,” she replied. “People will talk.”

“And you don’t want them to, right? So what? The cool, elegant, tragic widow is dancing with a mysterious stranger. And right here in Austin, at that. Scandalous, but maybe exactly what you need right now. People need to think you have a new suitor.”

Anger flashed through Kit. Did she seem that sad and pathetic? “I’m not that tragic, thank you. And I have to walk a thin line, to protect the organization I’ve worked so hard to build through the years, so you can’t possibly know what I need.”

The intimate look he gave her made her think he might know something about need himself, but right now, he didn’t dare voice that—not out loud and to her face. His job was to convince her that she needed him for protection against something she couldn’t even see in front of her. Something she didn’t want to see. She only wanted to continue her work. And continuing this dance without guilt or worry of scandal might be nice, too, for a change.

He dropped the charm, almost startling her with the lightning fast way he’d changed. “Right now, I know that you need to take this situation very seriously. You’re in danger and I’m here to keep you out of harm’s way.”

Kit’s heart did a long shudder, fear tickling through her like a whispering warning for the first time tonight. “Why won’t my father discuss this with me, so I can understand?”

“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.”

Gerald nodded, his fingers thumping on the table. “And that fancy stun gun you carry around put the shooter out cold. Fancy little gadget, that thing. Left a bullet hole in that man’s shoulder but kept him alive for questioning.”

Well, a Glock .357 with a suppressor wasn’t exactly a stun gun, but this was Texas after all. These men were better suited to rifles and shotguns, or maybe six-shooters.

Shane went back over the details. “It was chaos at first, but a lot of the guests did manage to get out of the room. The few who were left stayed behind tables and doors. Thank goodness we only had two wounded and no one dead.”

Yet he couldn’t get the memories of shattering glass and frightened screams out of his mind. Nor the image of Kit reaching up a hand to take his after he’d felled the crouching shooter, her eyes locking with his when he’d lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the room. He could still smell the scent of lilies on his clothes.

And he still had to wonder if the shooter, who’d also had a silencer on his gun, had been there alone. Or if this had been carefully planned by someone close to Katherine.

“The papers will be all over this tomorrow morning,” John warned. “But it can’t be helped. The official word will be that someone allegedly came into the room with a gun, but was apprehended and arrested on the scene. It’ll be listed as an attempted robbery due to the elite crowd, most of them wearing expensive baubles and carrying big wallets. We don’t want any more information than necessary leaking out, especially anything regarding Katherine being the target.”

“As far as I know, none of the people there are aware of that,” Shane said, not ready to voice what his instincts seemed to be shouting. “And frankly, gentlemen, I didn’t stick around to do damage control. My only intent once the shooter was secured was to get Katherine to a safe location.”

John Simpson glanced over at Gerald. “And we’ve put out the word that Katherine and you have been dating, so you’ve taken her to a secluded location to get over the shock of what happened. That way, the press can leave her alone. We hope. The official statement should be in the papers and on the news tomorrow.”

“That’s our best cover,” Shane agreed. And that’s exactly what he’d planned to insinuate to the public—that they were an item. Well, the best laid plans of mice and men…

“You did the right thing, bringing her here,” Gerald said. “You have my gratitude.”

“I’d like to check on her,” Shane said, wondering if he’d be dismissed or watched himself. These three men were some of the original five-man team that had started CHAIM all those years ago, halfway around the globe while they’d all served their country in Vietnam and later, other areas of the world. They were still a force to be reckoned with. “If I may have your permission, Gerald.”

Gerald gave him a mean-hard stare, but nodded. “Her mama’s in there with her right now. And trust me, son, you don’t want Sally Mae getting her dander up again tonight. She was in a real tear about her daughter almost getting shot, let me tell you. I should have sicced her on that gunman. She’d get some answers.”

“I do believe she would have, sir.”

Gerald ran a hand over his silver hair. “Better give them some time together before you go knocking on any doors.”

“Duly noted,” Shane said, his smile tired. Sally Mae had nearly taken down the house earlier, demanding to see her daughter, and she didn’t care if it hair-lipped the governor. Frightful woman she was when she was in a tizzy. “I’ll be out on the back patio then.”

He took his leave, knowing they’d want to discuss this latest development in private. He’d get his orders soon enough. But right now, he needed some time to digest all that had taken place. And he needed to find a way to make sure an incident such as this never happened again. Because that shooter had been a hired expert. Hired from someone high up and able to afford an assassin. Shane couldn’t get the notion out of his head that maybe that same someone had been in the crowd tonight.

He had to get Kit to safety. And that meant away from Austin and away from Eagle Rock. He knew how to hide a person. And besides, he knew exactly which room they’d whisked Kit off to earlier and he wasn’t above breaking into that room to make sure she was safe.



She might not ever feel safe again. In spite of having a warm bath and putting on a soft cotton tunic, matching pants and a cashmere robe someone had handed her a few minutes ago, Kit felt cold and clammy. But she held herself tightly together because she refused to shiver in fear.

“Honey, why don’t you lie down?”

Kit turned from the drape-covered, bulletproof window to find her mother hovering near the brocade sofa of the cozy sitting room just off the bedroom. “I’m not sleepy, Mother.”

“I could give you something,” Sally Mae Barton said, reaching into her purse. “I have a sedative.”

“I’m not taking a pill either,” Kit said. “I just want to go to my own home. When can I leave Eagle Rock?”

“Oh, now, honey, I don’t know about that. Your daddy is in a real pickle about what happened. I can’t say when you’ll be able to leave.”

“You can’t be serious,” Kit said, pacing in front of the fireplace. It was late summer and humid even at this hour, but she thought about building a fire. Only, someone would rush to stop her. Too many people were hovering around her tonight, stifling her with well-meaning concern. She just wanted to get away from it all.

She thought of Shane and wondered where he was. Had they sent him away? No, her father wouldn’t do that. He liked Shane and trusted him or he wouldn’t have brought him here. Shane had done everything in his power to help her, and she owed him her life. He’d saved a lot of people’s lives tonight.

“I want to see Shane,” she announced to her mother.

Sally Mae lifted a slender hand through her dark hair. “I don’t think that’s wise, darlin’. It’s late and he’s in with the others right now. You just need to rest.”

Kit wasn’t about to rest. “Mother, I can’t sleep. I’m too keyed up. And I’d like to talk to the man who put his life on the line in order to save mine tonight.”

Sally Mae stood to her five-feet-two-inch height. “You can’t do that, Katherine.”

Katherine wasn’t having any of that. Her mother might have been a CHAIM operative in her heyday, but she wasn’t going to bully Kit with that superior attitude. “Mother, I want to see Shane and if I have to scream at the top of my lungs and sound every alarm in this stucco and brick fortress, I’ll do it. I’ve had about enough for one night.”

“I’ll go see if I can find him,” Sally Mae said, her tone even-keeled. “But only if you promise to rest after you see him.”

Kit nodded, waving a hand. “That’s a deal.”

Sally Mae looked doubtful. “Do you want me to get Lulu or Rita in here to sit with you? They’re both in their rooms but I have them on standby.”

“No, I’m fine,” Katherine replied, thinking her mother’s friends would put her in a chair and give her a facial to soothe her frayed nerves. She didn’t want a facial. She wanted to see Shane. “Honestly, Mother, I’ll be fine.”

She watched as her mother hurried out of the room still wearing her teal blue ball gown and matching kitten-heeled pumps. Kit loved her mother, but Sally Mae was just as protective as her father. They only cared about her welfare, she knew. And she appreciated and respected both of them.

“But right now, I just need—”

“You rang?” a voice called from the bathroom.

“Shane?” She rushed across the soft carpet and into the wide, open bath, her heart doing a strange little dance. “How’d you—”

“Trade secret,” he said, pointing to the wide, square window over the garden tub. “I broke in.”

“But the alarms didn’t go off.”

“Of course not,” he said, adjusting his jacket. “I helped develop the security system in this place last time they updated it. Even Kissie herself said I did a good job.” He checked the window. “I simply went to the main frame and reset the timers back long enough to allow me to enter the building in an unconventional way.” He looked at his gold watch. “They’ll reset in about…three seconds.”

Kit heard a soft beep, beep coming from the monitor on the wall. “And what if my father notices?”

“He won’t. I only did it for this wing of the house. And I knew the exact time when the live feed to the security room switches cameras. Plus, your mother won’t allow any visual monitors in your bath. That would be an invasion of privacy.”

He stopped talking and looked at her, his tone going soft as his crystal-shot gaze swept over her. “I had to see you.” He lifted a finger toward her face to push a strand of hair off her cheek. “I like your hair down.”

Kit lowered her head, suddenly feeling the need to burst into tears. But she held herself in check, figuring all of these strange, electric emotions were due to the scare of almost being shot. She wouldn’t fall apart, not tonight. And not in front of him. “I’m okay. I just sent Mother to find you.”

“I heard you from my spot in the shrubbery. And I’m here.”

Before she could say anything, he took her hands in his. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, the warmth and strength of his fingers bringing the life back to her limbs. She allowed her gaze to wander away from his eyes for just a minute. He’d lost the bowtie and now his shirt was opened at the throat. Even rumpled and fatigued, he was still a striking man. Katherine decided she’d better focus on his face. But that didn’t help matters. His expression held an edge of anticipation capped off with weariness. And guilt.

“I’m okay, really, I am,” she said. “Is my friend Trudy Pearson okay? They wouldn’t let me check on her.”

“I saw her, yes. She was a bit shaken but she’s fine. She went home, but only after I promised her you were safe. I’m pretty sure her new friend—the hotel employee she befriended while under fire—was going to escort her to be sure.”

Katherine smiled at that. Leave it to Trudy to find a date even in the face of attempted murder. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Katherine, why did you want to see me? Did you remember something or see something tonight that I need to know?”

She stared up at him, seeing the solid concern in his eyes. “Oh, no. I mean, I can’t remember anything that would help. I…I just wanted to thank you, for saving my life.”

He leaned close, his eyes flaring as his gaze held hers, the sincerity in his words endearing him to her. “It was my duty and my honor.”

“It’s not over yet, is it?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Where do we go from here?” she asked, gripping his hands to ward off the trembles moving through her body.

“I’m working on that. The shooter is in the hospital and under police custody but he’s still unconscious. Our people and the police have gotten statements from all the eyewitnesses, but no one has come forward yet with any solid explanations or motives.” He leaned close then, his words a whisper in her ear. “And I’m not so sure you’re safe, even here.”

Shocked, she pulled back. “You can’t be serious.”

His touch moved up her arms, protective and intimate. “I think you’re still in danger.”

“But this is Eagle Rock. I’ve always felt safe here.”

“Things have changed,” he retorted, his eyes locking with hers, one hand going to his stomach as if he were in pain. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“I have a plan, if you’re willing to trust me.” Holding her shoulders again, he leaned forward and asked, “How would you like to run away with me?”




FOUR


Katherine opened her mouth but her words only came out in a whisper. “What do you mean?”

“As I said, I’m not so sure you’re safe in Austin, even here at Eagle Rock. Devon’s wife Lydia was attacked here a couple of years ago, before they were married. They were on the run and came here to hide.”

“I remember. Mother told me their story. Devon had a target on his back and Lydia got caught in the cross-fire. And it involved Eli Trudeau’s grandfather Pierre Savoy.”

“Yes, because his grandfather—the Peacemaker and one of the founding members of CHAIM—wanted them both dead so he planted someone on the inside to do the job, or at least to kill Lydia.”

“You don’t think—?”

“I’m not paid to just think. I’m paid to act. Someone smuggled a weapon into that room tonight in spite of our best security measures. It had to be someone above suspicion but with easy access to the event. And that means the same person could also reach you here. So as I said, I have a plan but your father and his cronies won’t like it. Are you interested?”

Katherine looked around at the place where she’d always come for extended visits growing up. While the Andersons lived here year round and took care of the compound, Eagle Rock was like her second home. She’d spent so much time here and never once had she questioned her safety.

Until now.

Should she trust the CHAIM system or the man who’d broken into this room to make sure she was all right? The same man who’d saved her life tonight?

“How can I be sure of anything?” she asked.

“You can’t. Nor can I. I usually rely on my experience and my training, my instincts and…a lot of prayer.”

“I’ve been praying since this happened. I’m hoping God will give me understanding until we can find out why this is happening to me.”

“That’s my job,” he said, “if you’re willing to trust me and let me do that job.”

She looked up at Shane, her hands trembling again. He took her hand in his, waiting for her answer.

“What did you have in mind?” she finally asked.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Well, first, we have to break out of Eagle Rock. And after that, well, we’ll be on our own until I can do some digging and put all the pieces together. But Kit, I can’t do this if you don’t feel…if you aren’t sure.”

She didn’t know if it was because she was in shock or just tired of fighting, but she shook her head, her blood pulsing back to life. “I’m not sure.”

He looked disappointed, but he nodded understanding. “Then we’ll go to plan B.”

“And what is that?”

He gave her a soft grin. “I’ll just have to take you hostage.”

“You’re not serious.”

“No. But it’s tempting.”

“But won’t we be in even more danger out there?”

“Not where I’m going,” he said. He rubbed his stomach. “I can’t shake this feeling.”

She faced him, her world tumbling and crashing much too fast. She wasn’t used to this. She liked stability and structure and calendars and committees. Those things kept her on track and helped her to focus on helping others. But how could she be a good steward if she was putting everyone in danger?

The room was still and hushed, but Shane didn’t push her. The silence didn’t seem to faze him. She supposed he was used to silence.

Finally, she swallowed, pushing away the solid wall of fear. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. I don’t think I have any choice. I didn’t take these threats seriously before, but if that man was after me then my presence at that gala put others in danger. Maybe it would be best if you and I did leave.”

He lowered his head. “Is that a yes?”

Her prayers lifted with each heartbeat. “Yes.”

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Okay, we’re going to have to act very quickly and I need you to do exactly as I say. Are you up to it?”

“I want my life back,” she said. “And Shane, I think my father hired the right man to make that happen, regardless of how you make it happen.”

He took her hand in his and kissed it, then bowed deep. “At your service, Madame. Now let’s get you into some decent traveling clothes. And pack a bag. We’ll be gone for a while.”

Katherine hurried to change, her mind whirling with a renewed awareness. Her trembling had shifted to nervous energy, but she couldn’t decide if she was running away from danger or using that as an excuse to run right into Shane Warwick’s waiting arms.



Kit’s mind raced with worry and anticipation, her prayers scattered. Worry that she was making a drastic mistake and anticipation that she would finally be free of the yoke of propriety that had held her since she was presented as Cotillion Queen back during her college years.

“How are you coming in there?” Shane asked from the sitting room, his pacing making her even more nervous.

Kit put on her watch and her pearls—silly but necessary for her sanity. “I’m almost ready.”

Was she? Kit knew how to pack a light travel bag. She usually kept things packed and ready to go at home, since she sometimes had to travel at a moment’s notice. But here at Eagle Rock, things were different. Her mother and Lulu Anderson kept clothes here in various sizes for all the wives of the CHAIM agents—maybe because Sally Mae instinctively knew her friends might have to leave quickly? But Kit was so confused, she could only stare at the huge walk-in closet full of feminine things. What to take?

Black, she decided. A lady could never go wrong with black, even when she was on the run from someone who obviously wanted her dead. Trying to keep her head with a little bit of humor, she grabbed a slinky black travel set—pants and a matching lightweight duster. That would work on the run, wouldn’t it? After adding a few other things, she grabbed an overnight bag from a shelf then stood still, the enormity of her situation making her numb.

She whirled to find Shane staring at her from the doorway. “Don’t analyze your wardrobe, Katherine. We have no time for that.”

She lifted her chin. “What do you suggest then for someone who’s got a target on her back?”

With a grunt and just a bit of sympathy in his eyes, he gently pushed her aside and started grabbing at garments. “Jeans—they’re sturdy and fit in anywhere. Some T-shirts and jackets and good walking shoes.”

She watched as he selected various items and tossed them in the open bag she’d found in the closet. But he held her cell phone out then dropped it in his pocket. “There. You’ll make a statement, I’m sure. And you’ll live to buy more clothes.”

“Can you guarantee that?” she asked, smarting from his obvious impatience and his misunderstanding of her hesitation. “Can you promise me that my presence won’t get someone else killed?”

He zipped the bag. “I can assure you that while you’re in my care, you won’t get killed.”

While you’re in my care.

His words, spoken in a low, gravelly voice, flowed through her like a gentle rain. Not “While I’m trying to protect you.” Not “While I’m trying to keep you alive.” But “While you’re in my care.” And not a promise, but an assurance. Was there a difference?

The man had a way of saying things.

“I’m ready,” she said, sending up one last prayer for hope and guidance.

They made it to the door just before it burst open.

Sally Mae Barton saw the overnight bag, and shook her head. “Oh, no. You are not taking my daughter out of here.”

“Mother—”

Sally Mae pointed at Kit. “You can’t leave. Your daddy will blow his top. He wants you here where he can keep an eye on you.”

Shane stepped forward, his stance at once protective and formidable. “I want to get her out of here because I don’t believe she’s safe here, Mrs. Barton.”

Sally Mae looked affronted, her tiny fist clenched at her side, her head held high. “This is Eagle Rock, Mr. Warwick. It’s a fortress.”

“It’s designed to be such,” Shane said, nodding his head. “But I have reason to believe your daughter might not be completely protected.”

“And I won’t put all of you in danger,” Kit added, hoping her mother would listen to reason. “If Shane isolates me, then I won’t have to worry about everyone else.”

Sally Mae shut the door then put her hands on her hips. “Are you telling me you think someone on the inside is behind this? We’ve been through that already with Devon and Lydia, remember? And with Eli and Gena. That was definitely an inside job from one of our top operatives. But he’s dead and gone and I thought it was over. Mercy, when will it end?”

Shane touched a hand to her arm. “I’m not saying that. I don’t believe this threat is coming from within CHAIM ranks. We’ve pretty much wiped that problem clean. But I do worry that someone from the outside knows Katherine is here. And that’s why I think it best to take her to an undisclosed location where few people are—the fewer people involved the better.”

Sally Mae’s shrewd gaze passed over his face. “You’re one of the best, I’ll give you that. But you can’t take her out of here without discussing this with my husband.”

Shane let out a breath. “You know that will only delay things. I don’t have time to listen to a lecture or to go over strategy by committee. My gut is telling me to get your daughter to safety immediately and worry about the details later.”

“But—”

“Mother, I’m not a prisoner here,” Kit said, using her best assertive voice. “I can leave on my own or you can let the man you hired to protect me do his job. And you can try trusting me. I won’t be responsible for someone doing harm to anyone inside Eagle Rock or out.”

Sally Mae clutched at her gold rope necklace. “I declare, I don’t know about you young folks. We had a way of doing things back in the day, but now…”

“Now threats can come from many sources,” Shane said, glancing over at Katherine. “If I can get her to a safe location, I can do some digging and get to the bottom of this. Starting with Jacob’s death and working from there.”

Sally Mae gasped. “Are you saying there was more to that? I knew it. I tried to tell your daddy—” She stopped, her expression thoughtful. Finally she said, “Okay, what’s the plan?”

Kit heard Shane’s exhaled breath. Had he been planning to take her hostage as he’d suggested earlier if her mother refused to cooperate?

“The first order of business is a means of getting us out of here,” Shane said. “We need a car.”

Sally Mae nodded. “I can help with that. We’ve got plenty of vehicles around here. Meet me in the garage in about five minutes.” She turned to Kit. “Are you sure, honey?”

Kit didn’t want to lie to her mother. She wasn’t sure but she couldn’t risk getting all of them killed. “I don’t have any other choice right now, Mother. It’s best if I distance myself from all of you—to protect you.”

“And what about you?” Sally Mae asked.

“Shane will take care of me.”

Sally Mae turned toward the door then whirled toward Shane. “You listen to me, and listen good. If anything happens to my daughter…well, you just remember I was once a CHAIM agent myself and I still know a few surefire ways of dealing with those who fail me—or make me mad.”

Shane’s eyes widened. “I understand, Mrs. Barton. And you have my word I will protect her with my very life.”

“That’s mighty reassuring,” her mother replied with all of the serenity and sweetness of someone at a country club luncheon. “Now, about that car…”



“A yellow Miata?”

Shane stared down at the toy car sitting in front of him, not sure he could get his legs to fit in the tiny thing, let alone his entire body. Even with the top down, he didn’t see how he could be comfortable, but he didn’t dare put the top down tonight.

Sally Mae shoved the keys at him. “Look, it’s the only one I can spare right now. It’s little, it’s fast and it’s bulletproof. Even the hard top, which I suggest you don’t let down. You’d be like low-hanging fruit with the top down. And it gets good gas mileage.” She shrugged. “What more could you want?”

“A real car,” Shane said on a snort. “This is like a go-cart on steroids.”

“Take it or leave it,” Sally Mae replied. “The SUVs all have the standard CHAIM GPS tracking.” She lifted her eyebrows. “Which means—”

“That your husband could track us, I know, I know,” Shane interrupted. “And you’re sure this car isn’t bugged?”

“No, it is not,” Sally Mae replied, her indignation showing in the flash in her eyes. “It has a GPS system, of course. But that’s just so I can find where I’m going when I’m shopping or lunching, you know. Woman-type stuff. I like my privacy and my husband knows I can dislodge any tracking system in about five minutes, anyway. So he indulges me now and then.”

“By allowing you to drive around in a bright yellow car that looks like a bumblebee?” Shane asked.

“Hey, it’s cute and it’s fast—I had the engine reworked to make it a little quicker,” she replied. “And you’re wasting time.”

“You’re right,” Shane said, looking over at Kit. “Get in.”

Sally Mae patted the little car. “Oh, and just so you know, it does have an emergency button. That red one on the dash. Hit that and you’ll get a secure satellite line right back to Eagle Rock. Or you can request a secure line to signal any other agent by code.”

“Good to know,” Shane said, impressed with Sally Mae’s steel magnolia calm. He handed her Kit’s cell. “We won’t need this. She’s to have no contact with anyone for the next few days, understand?”

Kit didn’t like that. “No contact? But I have obligations, calls to return. Everyone will be wondering where I am.”

“We’ll take care of all that, honey,” her mother replied, holding the phone up in the air.

Kit had remained quiet while her mother and Shane discussed their mode of transportation. But now, he saw the apprehension in her eyes. “Katherine?”

“I’m ready,” she said, turning to her mother. “I love you.”

Sally Mae pulled her daughter into her tiny arms, hugging Kit close with a mother’s fierce protection. “I’ll stall your daddy. He’ll be madder than a hornet but it won’t be the first time I’ve made him mad.” She looked at Shane, her expression bordering on murder to him while she said such sweet words to her child. “I love you, honey, and I expect all of this to be over real soon. You have my prayers.”




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