Always Watching (4 page)

“Your mother had a stalker.”

Those five words from his father silenced him. Olivia looked up to see Bruce staring at the floor. His pale face and still stature captured her attention.

“What?”

Bruce looked up at his son's quiet question and gave a small shrug. “She had a stalker. Right before she was killed.”

“Who?”

“The cops were never able to prove it, but I suspect it was
the woman who sent her letters for over a year, calling your mother all kinds of horrible names, accusing her of stealing her husband's love and warning her to back off and disappear. Your mother was concerned, of course, but was convinced it would all blow over. I was scared to death.”

“With good reason, it sounds like,” Olivia murmured.

“Yes. And so when I saw the gifts and Wade finally told me about the calls he's been getting at the station, I didn't want to waste any time making sure someone was watching his back.”

“When was your wife killed?”

“May 2, 1985.”

Her gaze flew to Wade. “You couldn't have been more than a toddler.”

“I was two.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Regardless,” Bruce said, “I could see history repeating itself, and as long as there's breath in me to do something to prevent it, I'll do it.”

Wade studied his father, and Olivia could see the muscle jumping in Wade's jaw. Understanding mixed with anger roiled in his eyes.

“For some reason she's been content to admire from a distance, send harmless gifts, be anonymous,” Olivia said.

“But all that changed this morning,” Wade murmured.

“Exactly. But what triggered that?”

Wade sank back onto the bed. “I did.”

“How?”

His gaze bounced between her and his father. “On the show. I mentioned the gifts. I said I appreciated them, but they really needed to stop, that I wasn't interested in an anonymous admirer. I said I had thrown away all of the gifts and would do so with any future gifts, so she might as well stop.”

Olivia closed her eyes and let out a pained groan. “Oh no.”

“Son . . . ,” his father breathed.

Wade set his jaw. “Look, like I said, I've worked with these people. Sometimes when they're confronted and told to back off, they do. Sometimes they don't and they escalate.” He scratched his chin. “This person involved Amy. She sent her a jersey. The cops won't do anything because there's been no overt threat. They agreed I needed to be cautious and take steps to protect myself and Amy, but their hands were tied.” He held his hands up, then dropped them, resignation and defeat flashing for a brief moment on his face. “I couldn't just sit around and do nothing, so I decided to take a gamble.”

“Not only did you lose that gamble,” Olivia said, “I think you've stuck a stick in a hornet's nest.”

Just before Wade was released, Cameron entered the room for a short visit. He shook Wade's hand and clasped his shoulder. “I'm so glad you're all right. When you're feeling better, call me and we'll get together to discuss business.”

“Will do.”

Cameron left, and while Wade appreciated his concern, he was glad the man hadn't dragged out the visit. He still felt physically weak and exhausted. He just wanted to go home and go to bed.

One piece of good news that had brightened Olivia's tense features had come as Wade was signing his release papers. Maddy had come through surgery and was still clinging to life. Barely.

He'd met Katie Singleton, who'd arrived with Haley Callaghan, and learned they were two more partners in the agency. Katie had scouted the area and deemed it safe to walk the four steps from the hospital exit to the passenger seat of Olivia's vehicle. Wade left the hospital with Olivia and his father at his side. Wade's father had his own car and would meet them at
the house. Wade slid into the passenger seat of Olivia's SUV and buckled his seat belt. “How many employees are with Elite Guardians?”

She backed out of the parking spot. “In the beginning there were three of us. Katie, Haley, and I all met at the bodyguard school in Athens, Greece. We graduated and formed our own company. We've all been involved in one form of law enforcement at some point in our lives, so we put together a proposal and presented it to the mayor. She liked it.”

“So you work for the mayor?” he asked as she pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

“Yes and no. We do contract work for her and the local police department when they have a need.” She tapped her fingers on the wheel as she drove. “For example, if there's a big celebrity or politician in town or something and they need additional security, they call on us. One reason is that states vary in their laws for concealed weapons. Some bodyguards may not be able to carry their weapons in South Carolina. We can. So whoever is in need of extra security contacts local law enforcement, and local LEO gives them our agency recommendation. In addition, if there have been threats or angry letters, we're brought in to do a threat assessment, review the security plan, and make recommendations to the chief of police. Usually, they just hire us for the gig if they think they need specialized protection.” She shrugged. “That's about it in a nutshell.”

“But isn't that what the local force is for?”

“Of course. Like I said, we just work with them when they need some extra manpower or the person in charge of the security detail feels like his client would be better off with a personal protection specialist.”

“And when you're not working with them, you're bodyguarding?”

“No. The bodyguard service comes first. When we get a call from a private client, we would take that job over one from the mayor if we have to make that choice. Most of the time we can handle both.”

“I've never heard of anything like that.”

She smiled. “That's because it's an experiment.” She shrugged. “Normally, the clients pay for the protection. But in this case, as we were trying to build our business, we had the idea that we presented to the mayor. When she learned that the funding came from a private grant and that there wasn't any strain on the taxpayers' pocket, she was eager to see how we could all work together. And law enforcement welcomed the help. The mayor had nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

“Sounds ideal.”

“It really is. The good thing is, we've all been in law enforcement and we know what we're doing. And because we're employed on a contract basis via the mayor, we carry law enforcement powers. We can make an arrest, investigate a crime, do lots of the things a police officer can do.”

“So the agency was started with you, Katie, and Haley.”

“Yes.” She made a left, then a quick right. “As the business grew, we added Maddy and may need to add another in the next month or so. I do have some contract people I work with on occasion should I need the manpower. And with Maddy out of commission for a bit . . .”

“Yeah.”

She drove with confidence, her movements sure and steady even while she kept an eye on the rear and side mirrors. Wade let himself study the woman who'd probably saved his life last night. Straight blonde hair with some darker highlights and blue eyes that reminded him of the Caribbean waters on a clear summer day. She was physically beautiful, clearly competent,
and intrigued him like no other woman had in a long time. Not since—

“You're staring,” she said.

“You're interesting.” He pushed that last thought aside. He didn't want to think about Justine.

She blinked. And laughed.

“What's so funny about that?” he asked.

She shrugged. “That's not usually what I hear from a man.”

“Sorry.”

“I'm not. It's refreshing.”

He studied her to see if she was flirting. She wasn't. Again, his interest in her grew to another level. Again, he frantically pushed it away. “To have someone look beneath the first layer?”

A flush darkened her cheeks and she didn't look at him. “Something like that.”

“So what's your story?”

She looked at him this time. “My story?”

“Yes.”

“Let's put it this way. It's short and it's boring.”

“Boring?” He let out a chuckle. “Right. I don't believe that for a minute, but I'll let you off the hook if you promise to tell me at some point.”

She made a sound in her throat that could have been an agreement—or not. She pulled to a stop at the light and her phone buzzed. She glanced down. “That's Angela Malone, our agency's administrative assistant. She keeps us all in line and organized. She sent me some information on the drug you were injected with.”

“Shot with, you mean.”

Her gaze sharpened on him. “What do you mean?”

“It was a dart. I remember pulling it out, then dropping it as my legs gave out.”

“Nothing like that was found near you.” She narrowed her eyes and Wade thought he could see her brain spinning. “That's why she was stooped down beside you,” Olivia murmured. “She was cleaning up after herself. She—or he—took the dart with her. I'm still not sure if it was a woman or a man.” Olivia pulled over into a restaurant parking lot and put the car in park although she left it running. She picked her phone up. “‘Propofol is the generic name for Diprivan, an anesthetic that causes unconsciousness.'” She shot him a look. “Guess we knew that. ‘It's mostly used in surgeries and administered by IV. It's fast acting, but short-lived. Meaning in order for the patient to stay unconscious, it has to be monitored and a steady dosage maintained in the bloodstream.'”

Wade nodded. “The doctor seemed to think the side effects would wear off in a few hours. He said to give it twenty-four hours from the time of the injection for it to be totally out of my system.” He shook his head. “Who would have access to that kind of thing? I wouldn't think it would be that easy to get ahold of that kind of drug. It would have to be obtained by someone in the medical field, right?”

“That would be my first thought.”

She pulled back out and merged with the traffic. Five minutes later, she pulled into his drive. “You have a nice place.”

“You mean you haven't been out here watching?” He couldn't help the edge of sarcasm.

“Yes, I've been here.” Either she didn't notice the sarcasm or she didn't let it bother her. He had a feeling it was the latter. “Maddy, Haley, and Katie are the ones who've been doing most of the watching.”

“Why not you?” He tempered his tone. No need to take his frustration out on her.

She shot him a grim smile. “I also have other duties that
demand my time, but now that Maddy's fighting for her life, I'll be taking a much more active role in guarding you, while we work to figure out who attacked you.”

She pulled around to the back, past the wrought iron gate he'd left open, and up under the covered area. To the left was the main house. To the right, the three-car garage complete with guest home on the second floor. In front, a second wrought iron gate stood open, allowing him to drive through and around to the front of his home without having to back the car out of the driveway.

She'd definitely been here before. How had he not known? How had they watched him and he'd never known it?

And yet he'd known someone was watching him last night. He remembered the sense of evil and felt chills pebble his skin. He reached for the door handle as his father pulled in beside him.

“We'll probably need to keep these gates closed. It would be hard work to get into your house that way. Keeping this entrance sealed means lessening the risk of someone entering.”

“I usually just leave them open all the time. But we can keep them closed now.” He started to open the door.

“Will you please stay in the car?”

He hesitated. “Why?”

“Katie's going to check the area.” She spoke into her phone and motioned for his father to stay in his vehicle as well. His father nodded.

Then she simply waited.

Wade released the handle. He thought it all ridiculous and yet he couldn't deny what had happened in the wee hours of the morning. He also couldn't deny the gifts he'd been getting. So he stayed silent.

She left the car running and the air conditioner blasting.
Late August in the South meant hot muggy days. He tried to see his place through her eyes and felt a sense of satisfaction dart through him. A little bit of pride, but mostly gratefulness. He didn't want to take his good fortune for granted.

Thanks to his mother's lucrative career as an actress in the late 1970s to early '80s, he lived comfortably. His father had set him up with a trust fund after her death. At the age of twenty-one, he received access to the money and had built this house on the small private lake just outside the city limits. He'd always found it a refuge. Peaceful and quiet. He had neighbors, but they were spread out, separated by strategically placed greenery.

He grimaced. At least it used to seem peaceful. Now his home just looked like an easy target.

“Do you have any clients today?” Olivia asked.

“Not today. I work Monday through Thursday in my office and do the radio show Thursday through Sunday.” He shot her a look. “I thought you would know that.”

“I do, but you're not exactly the most predictable client we've ever had.” He supposed that was true. He often got calls from clients asking for last-minute appointments or met some of his friends from the radio station for coffee if he received an impromptu text or phone call. “And honestly, that's one of the best things you can do,” she said. “Don't be predictable. Predictable will get you killed.” She glanced at the door as though impatient for Katie to hurry up.

“You tell it like it is, don't you? No dancing around the topic with you, huh?”

She shot him a surprised glance, then shrugged. “It depends on the person, the client's personality.” She studied him for moment. “However, you're not a ‘dancing' type of client. You shoot straight when you can and pull your punches when the person you're talking to needs it. You prefer to meet conflict
head-on—especially when the conflict is personal. Like you, I adjust my way of talking to the personality of my clients.”

He flexed his jaw. She was right. And it was just plain creepy. How had she read him so easily? Just exactly how much did she know about him anyway? Did she know about Justine? Of course she did. As soon as his father had hired her agency, his past was an open book. His jaw tightened at the invasion of his private life. “You sure know a lot about me.”

Her gaze softened a fraction. “I'm sorry. It's what we do, Wade. The information we have is only used to keep you safe, nothing else.”

“So tell me something about you.”

She looked away and he wondered if she would answer. Finally she shrugged. “Like I said, my life was pretty boring. I was raised in a series of foster homes. I graduated high school at the top of my class and went to the University of South Carolina on a full-ride scholarship. Which was a good thing because I sure couldn't afford anything else. I majored in criminal justice, graduated, and went straight into the police academy at the ripe old age of twenty-one.”

Wade blinked. “Foster homes. Wow.”

“That's all you got from that paragraph?”

“How did you turn out so well?” He coughed. “Um . . . that didn't come out right.”

She gave him a small smile. “I understand. A lot of foster kids don't turn out great, but I was fortunate. I had some good homes, some great foster parents. The last one was the best and I was there for six years.”

“Six years?”

“When they took me in, I was treated as one of theirs. There was no bias between their biological children and their foster children.”

“So they're your family?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Where are your biological parents?”

Sadness flickered in her eyes, then was gone so fast he wondered if he'd imagined it. “They were killed in a small plane crash when I was ten. Both of them were only children of deceased parents, so there wasn't anyone who could—or would—take me in.”

“Wow. I'm sorry.”

“Me too.”

“But your last foster parents didn't adopt you?”

Olivia shook her head. “No.” A guarded tension came over her, and he bit his tongue on asking why, but she finally volunteered the answer. “They wanted to. They weren't the problem. I was.”

He studied her. “You didn't want to be adopted?”

“No.” She hesitated again. “I did, but I . . . didn't. I still had a strong connection to my parents.” She took a deep breath. “I just couldn't accept that they were gone for good.”