A Time to Protect (3 page)

“You know I did see someone with a shirt like that earlier. I just can’t remember—hey!” The figure stepped into the room.
“What are you doing? She’s not supposed to go in there,” she told Brendan over one shoulder.

Chloe raced down the hall, mentally preparing to take on the intruder to protect her patient while realizing that somewhere along the way she’d accepted Brendan’s unvoiced suspicion that someone who wasn’t supposed to be here would visit the mayor.

The question was—why did the FBI think that?

C
hloe Tanner sprinted like a greyhound at the track, long legs eating up the distance down the gleaming hallway tile with effortless ease.

Brendan followed, his gaze fixed on the nurse as she closed in on the interloper. When she spun the person around he almost choked. “Colleen?”

“You know this person?”

Chloe had released her hold, yet Brendan knew that Colleen didn’t have a chance of evading the nurse. He’d already made a mental note that Chloe’s reaction times signaled some kind of martial arts training. Earlier she’d taken him down without blinking and he didn’t cave easily. So she was well-trained—black belt probably.

Some women carried pepper spray or even a gun for protection. Some learned basic methods of self-defense. But Chloe’s quickness, the speed with which she reacted, signaled more than routine training. Had Madison mentioned her mother’s dedication to some sport?

His mind clicked into the familiar police mode and Brendan found himself wondering about the ex-husband. Maybe Chloe had to defend herself and her children against him. A
burst of gall in his stomach told him how much he hated that thought.

“Do you know her?” Chloe repeated, her voice threaded with steel.

“I know her. She’s my cousin and a reporter for the
Colorado Springs Sentinel
.” Brendan turned his attention back to the feisty blond cousin he’d never been able to keep in check all through their wild and wooly childhood. “What are you doing here, Colleen?”

“Reporting on the mayor’s shooting, of course. It’s what I do, remember, Bren?” Colleen’s blue eyes dared him to comment on her job.

“Well, what
I
do is look after the patients,” the nurse explained, her voice soft enough not to disturb any patient, but firm enough to make it clear she meant business. “When they are in this hospital there is a certain expectation of privacy which we try to provide for our patients. In this particular ward there are restrictions which are clearly posted. We do not allow reporters to wander into Intensive Care with tape recorders to talk to our patients. Even if they could speak.”

Brendan felt his jaw drop as Chloe slid the recorder out of Colleen’s hands, removed the tape and handed it back.

“You can’t do that! I had some other stuff on there—”

“I’m very sorry, Miss Montgomery, but I’m just doing my job.”

Brendan couldn’t detect a hint of remorse on Chloe Tanner’s gorgeous face. Her eyes—wide open, guileless and blue—stared back at his cousin, the thick lashes a perfect frame for those giant irises. Even with that gorgeous mane of shimmering auburn scraped back off her face, Chloe Tanner was a beautiful woman. In fact, her hairstyle only emphasized the clear alabaster tone of her skin and offered an enchanting view of her haunting cheekbones and full lips.

“You will have to leave now, Miss Montgomery. You do not have a visitor’s pass and you are not permitted to be here.” Chloe stood in the doorway of the mayor’s room, slim, defi
ant, the blue of her eyes a different tone than Colleen’s lighter ones, but every bit as determined.

Brendan braced himself for the argument his cousin would mount, then realized something was wrong. “Just a minute, Colleen. There’s supposed to be a guard here.”

“Oh, Sid was all doubled over when I came. Needed a break, you know? I guess he caught something. I said I’d watch the door for him.”

“He’s not allowed to leave. The mayor is to have round-the-clock protection. In case they try again.” Furious as this security breakdown, Brendan pulled out his phone, asked for another guard. A moment later Sid returned looking whiter than the floor as he staggered to his chair. “Hold on, Sid. I’ve got someone else coming to replace you.”

“I shouldn’t have left, but—oh,” he groaned and grabbed his stomach.

Moments later a uniformed officer hurried through the door to take his place. Sid left. Brendan turned and noticed Chloe Tanner hadn’t budged from the mayor’s doorway.

“You’ll have to leave,” she insisted, glaring at Colleen. “Now.”

“Fine.”

“Just a minute.” Brendan frowned at his cousin. “How did you get up here, Colleen?”

“The stairs.”

“Nobody stopped you?”

“Nobody except her.”

“That’s my job. You should not be here. Please leave.”

“I’m going. You should think about hiring her, Brendan. She’s better than a guard dog.” Colleen jerked her head at Chloe, snapped her recorder closed, turned and walked away. The elevator doors closed behind her.

“Do you know how rare that is?” Brendan stared in disbelief. Chloe ignored him, calmly returned to the desk and checked the open chart. Brendan was used to cataloguing height and weight, but Chloe’s long legs made her look substantially
taller than the five feet six inches he’d first gauged her to be. “I can hardly believe I witnessed that with my own eyes.”

“I beg your pardon?” She glanced up from the monitor that gave her a full view of every patient’s room. They could both see Theresa checking the temperature of a patient across the way. “What’s rare?” she asked as she sidestepped him to pick up the ringing phone. She dealt with the caller summarily, then glanced at him, her mouth pursing. “You were saying?”

Her lips were full, enticing. Was she wearing lipstick—and why hadn’t it come off with her lunch? Realizing the path his thoughts were taking, Brendan fought to regain his focus. “Colleen never does as anyone asks. If she thinks there’s a story in it, she doesn’t give up.”

“Good for her.” Chloe stepped around him again, made an entry on a piece of paper and gave a hiss of frustration when she found him in the way again. Her hands clamped onto her narrow hips. “Look, I’ve got things to do and you are hampering my work. There’s really nothing more I can tell you about the mayor, so please let me do my job.”

It was evident she was telling the truth. There were no clues here. Reassured that security was back in place, all that was left was to check with the local cops about other access points and make sure no one else could use the stairs to get to the mayor.

“Thank you for your help. Here’s my card. If you think of anything, call. I’ll leave you in peace now.” Brendan walked to the elevator, paused, then turned back. “Maybe I’ll see you at soccer practice, Mrs. Tanner,” he said. “We don’t have many games left before the season ends.”

“Maybe you will,” she agreed, her attention on the monitor. When a buzzer sounded she hurried away to answer its summons.

On the ride down to the main entrance, Brendan’s thoughts were definitely not on his job, not until he rounded the corner of the parking lot and spotted the deputy mayor lurking in the shadows. At least it looked like Owen Frost. About to ask if he wanted a ride somewhere, Brendan froze when a black car
eased toward Owen, who bent over to speak to the person inside. He took something from an outstretched hand then the black car rolled away.

Brendan pressed against a bunch of bushes, hoping they would shield him from the car’s headlights. When he looked around again he saw Owen now sitting in his own car, so he edged closer for a better look. The deputy mayor appeared to be counting bills—twenties.

Immediately the little nerve in Brendan’s neck began its rat-tatting, double time. Since when did the deputy mayor need to skulk in the dark, hide in the shadows? Something was going on and it involved money.

A bribe? A payoff? Or maybe a debt paid off?

Questions bubbled up. Was the deputy mayor involved in the shooting of Mayor Maxwell Vance? But why? The mayor’s job hardly paid enough to make attempted murder worthwhile.

Clearly something was out of place. Brendan intended to find out what.

“He was supposed to kill the mayor.” The man they called
El Jefe
or The Chief tilted forward, insinuation in every word. “Were those not my orders?”

“Y-yes, sir.” The peon gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing. The other man remained silent, eyes narrowed.

“Then I suggest you see to it, before I find someone more…effective.”

“We can do it, Chief.” He looked at his partner. “We’ll go right away.”

“No. Not tonight. Too many people around, asking questions. Wait a while. Choose the opportunity. Patience is a virtue, you know.” He curled his lips in a smile, but he felt no mirth. “Get it done. Or else.”

They disappeared like phantoms of the night. Almost exactly as planned. One mistake easily rectified then they would move on. He pulled out his cell phone.

“
Hola
, Miguel!
Sí
, it is I.
Como esta?
” He listened, nodded. “
Sí
, the shop is ready to open. But my merchandise is not all here. Ah.
Bueno
.” He hung up, then glanced around. The location was ideal, the stage set. If all went well, business would be up and running full steam in a matter of days.

“And no one can stop me,” he gloated. “No one.”

“Okay, guys. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Brendan felt ten feet tall as the youthful faces stared up at him, brimming with expectation. This ragtag bunch of soccer novices was doing well. If only they could win this game, build up their confidence. He whispered a prayer for help as he reminded the players about a new move he’d demonstrated at the last practice. He led a cheer before they tumbled onto the field.

She
wasn’t here today. He’d checked the bleachers several times but hadn’t been able to spot a particular shade of red hair that would have identified Chloe Tanner. He should have known better than to look. Madison had already told him she’d come to practice with a friend.

“Come on, Springers!”

A parent’s yell of support drew his attention back to his team and the game. He grinned, hollered his own encouragement. Sure enough, his timid team was trying what he’d asked, coaxing the ball down the field in a mix of stabs and thrusts that had the other team baffled.

“Kick it,” he whispered as they approached the opposing net. “Kick it!”

As if she’d heard, one small foot came out, smashed into the ball and sent it flying straight toward the net. A howl of excitement burst out of the crowd and Brendan held his breath then let it whoosh out in disappointment. The goalie had easily stopped the shot and now kicked it toward his team’s strongest player.

“We’re dead now,” Buddy mourned sotto voce.

But the Springers weren’t quite ready to concede. One of the
smallest players, Ashley, slipped the ball off the foot of the other player and shot toward the net with all her might, legs churning like windmills. At the last possible moment, with the goalie who was twice her size looming, she drop-passed the ball to teammate Emily Cornell, who promptly rocketed it into the net.

“Did you see that?”

Brendan felt a
thwack
against his back and fought to catch his breath. Coach Buddy Jeffers might think he was worn out, but it was evident from the thumping on Brendan’s left shoulder that Buddy’s strength had only been in hiatus and was now back full force.

The players rushed toward them, faces beaming with delight.

“You are an awesome team!” Brendan cheered, slapping each one on the back. “Now we’ve only got a few minutes left in the game and we need one more goal. Can you do it?”

Unanimous agreement. He cut short his pep talk and asked them to try the attack they’d worked out at the last practice.

“You faked them out pretty good on that last pass. So think about that and play your hardest. Go, Springers!”

They surged onto the field and took possession of the ball almost immediately. One minute twenty seconds left and they lost it. Brendan could have cried but he clenched his fists and willed them on. Madison Tanner yelled something at the girl across from her. A moment later the two of them took off down the field, Madison clearing the way. She accepted a pass, then before her opponent could attack, whisked the ball across to Emily. A second later it was in the net.

Brendan laughed out loud and quickly stepped out of Buddy’s way as the coach did his jiggy dance. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Less than a minute remained on the clock. The other team could easily tie the game. He called a time out.

“We need one more goal, don’t we?” Madison’s heart-shaped face shone with perspiration. “Otherwise they can tie it and they’ll get into the finals because they have more points than us. Right, Coach Jeffers?”

Buddy’s face sobered. “You’re right, Madison.”

“So we need another goal.” Brendan glanced at the weary group. “I’m thinking our number eight play might just work. Want to give it a try?”

The majority looked dubious, and why not? Number eight was hard to execute. But they had enough time for only one chance.

“They’re pretty big, Coach. We look like midgets next to them.”

“That’s why we need to try it, Emily. They make good targets.” The other kids chuckled at his joke. “Listen, you have really shown what a good team you are. If you want to try something else, we’ll do it. What do you think?”

Nobody said a word.

“All I know is, we worked hard to get here and I’m not giving up yet. Not when we could get into the finals.” Madison stood with her tiny feet planted on the grass, daring the other players. “Are you?”

“Not me.” Ashley grinned. So did the rest.

They repeated it over, one by one, until all were cheering. The whistle went and the team poured out onto the field, ready to give it their all. At the last moment the other coach pulled a smaller player and sent in his biggest offensive player. Madison was no match. Brendan whispered a prayer for her safety. Her heart was big, but her body was small, fragile.

The first twenty seconds the other team commanded the game, moving closer and closer to the Springers’ net.

“I shouldn’t have pushed them so hard,” he murmured to Buddy. “They’re too young and they’re against a much better team.”

“Think so?” Buddy pointed. “Look at that.”

Madison darted around her opponent and kicked the ball as hard as she could. No one was expecting it but her teammates immediately recognized the formation and moved into the pattern they’d practiced. Twenty seconds later the ball was in the net.