Forever Alexa (Book Four In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) (38 page)

She shook her head and looked down as she swallowed her disgust. This guy was a pig. “I can’t believe this might happen. I can’t believe my dreams might come true.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

She almost said, ‘Thank you,’ but she remembered the girl he wanted would have a shaky self-esteem at best. “No, I’m—I’m not. But I want to be.”

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered and kissed each of her fingers. “Let me photograph you.”

“At the park?”

He shook his head. “Not with the rain coming in. Come to my place. Monday night. I’ll cook you dinner.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She feigned reluctance as she gained confidence in her ability to pull this off. Eric was eating it up. “I have to check with my mom first.”

He frowned. “Your mom?”

She looked down. “Yeah, we have plans Monday. I’ve been trying to do stuff with her now and again since my dad left. I’m sure I can break them and make it up to her another night, though. Let me check.”

“Sounds good.” He played his thumb over her bottom lip. “I’m looking forward to showing you what everyone else sees. Bring your camera. We’ll trade techniques.”

She suppressed a shudder, wishing desperately that he would stop touching her. “Trade? But you’re a professional.”

“Gotta start somewhere, right?”

She smiled. “That’s true.”

A tray full of entrees crashed to the floor, and Alexa jumped. She glanced over and gasped as the waitress scrambled to clean up her mess. There he was, sitting at a table with a stunning blonde. Renzo met her eyes across the room and smiled. She turned back to Eric and yanked up her glass, desperate for a sip of cool water.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.” Why was he here? Why was Renzo here at this restaurant? The coincidence was too huge.

“You sure?”

“Mm, definitely.”

“Are you ready to order some food?”

“Absolutely.” They’d been here for almost an hour, but she didn’t plan to go anywhere until she had plenty of time to study her sister’s worst nightmare sitting across the room. There had to be a connection between Lorenzo Cruz and Eric Stevens. There simply
had
to be.

Jackson sat in the surveillance vehicle, hanging on Alex’s every word as they transmitted from her wire into his headphones. He hadn’t moved from his uncomfortable corner on the small cramped bench in more than an hour and a half. He rubbed at the burning ache in his shoulders while he scrutinized the live video feed on the laptop, trying to interpret every gesture crossing her face. The discomfort squeezing the base of his neck was almost as brutal as the agony of having to sit back in the safety of the van while Alex risked it all. But she was doing a hell of a job. She could safely add acting to her list of numerous talents. If he didn’t know Alex as well as he did, he would believe she was enjoying herself. She’d gone from tense and shy to relaxed and flirty as the evening dragged on.

Her laughter flooded his ears, and he ground his teeth when Eric Stevens made another bad joke. Damn, he was ready for this to be over. He’d been ready to end this since the word ‘go.’ Getting Alex back to California and out of harm’s way couldn’t happen soon enough. He glanced at his watch. A little more than twelve hours and they were out of here.

He wanted things back the way they had been just two days ago, when she laughed and smiled for him. He wanted Alex in his home—in his bed, with their daughter sleeping in the room across the hall. But that would take some time. They had a lot to come back from. Deception and harsh words left their relationship in tatters. They lost more ground still when they’d stumbled through the awkward conversation by his parents’ stairwell hours before. Alex’s eyes had pleaded for comfort and reassurances, but he hadn’t been able to give them. He’d wanted to pull her against him and tell her he would be with her every step of the way, but he’d stayed silent and let her walk away.

Growing restless, Jackson stretched his cramping legs and sat back as the waitress came to check on Alex and Eric’s progress with their appetizer platter. How long could they drag out an evening when the mozzarella sticks and loaded potato skins were almost gone? It couldn’t be much longer. Hopefully Alex would make her way back to the apartment building within the hour. He would meet her there and take her home while Tucker dealt with the bullshit. They needed to talk. Maybe they could sit on the dock and figure things out. He wanted to lay with her tonight. He missed falling asleep with her. Hell, the past few nights he hadn’t done anything but toss and turn in his own bed.

“You know,” Eric said, “I’m having a really good time.”

Alex swallowed her bite of fried mozzarella and smiled. “Me too.”

“I want to do this again.”

“We are on Monday.” She sipped her water.

“Before then. My friend Zack is having a huge birthday bash tomorrow night. Why don’t you come with me?”

“Tomorrow? I’m not sure—”

“It’s at his place in DC.” Eric took her hand. “We’ll have fun.”

“Son of a bitch,” Detective Canon said. “Is he talking about fucking Zachary Hartwell? Get me a DOB on Zachary Hartwell,” Canon demanded into his microphone.

Jackson struggled to listen to Alex’s conversation as he wondered the same thing. This was huge. This was beyond dangerous, and he wanted Alex out—now.

“I don’t know, Eric.”

“Aw, come on, Jenny. There will be a live band and great food. He knows how to do it up right. A couple of modeling contacts might be there.”

“It sounds fun.”

“Fucking unbelievable,” Cannon shouted. “It
is
Hartwell. DOB matches.”

“Please come with me. I want to show you off,” Eric coaxed.

Jackson’s jaw clenched when he recognize the determined gleam in Alex’s eyes, and she smiled. “Don’t you do it, Alex,” he muttered. “Don’t you—”

“Okay. I’ll come.”

Jackson rushed to his feet, unable to believe his own ears, and smacked his head on the roof of the van. “What the fuck is she doing?”

“Take it easy, Mr. Matthews,” Agent Terron warned.

Jackson’s gaze flew to the Agent’s as he rubbed the sore spot on his skull. “Take it easy?”

“This could be our big break. She’s in.”

“Forget it.” Dread curled in his belly as he stared at Terron and Cannon. They were practically rubbing their hands together with excited anticipation. They were going to allow Alex—hell, they were going to
encourage
her to take this next step. “We didn’t agree to this. We’re leaving for Los Angeles tomorrow morning. You can forget the whole thing.”

“If our informant is a willing participant... We’ll proceed forward if Ms. Harris gives us the green light.” Canon tilted his head to speak into the microphone and said, “Let’s get some preliminaries going on this. We need a confirmed address for the party and a new staging location in DC.”

He was already losing control of the situation. Helpless rage sent his pulse pounding. He could barely hear the fucker speaking over the rapid beat throbbing in his skull. “I’m telling you
no
. As head of her security, I’m pulling the plug on this. You’re not worried about Alex’s safety anymore than you are about bringing Abby Harris home. You see a way to get to Zachary Hartwell, and that’s it.”

“As I said—”

“I heard what you said. Now you listen to me,” Jackson spat. “Alex isn’t thinking of the danger she’ll be in. The only thing she sees is a possibility of getting to her sister. You and I both know the odds are slim to none on that happening.”

“The probability is zero if she does nothing.”

“There won’t be anyone on the inside to keep her safe. They could take her right then and there, and we wouldn’t have a clue. We’re done with this.” Jackson stepped from the van and slammed the door, afraid he would punch the bastards. It was tempting, more than tempting, to walk into the restaurant and ruin the sting by posing as a jealous boyfriend, but that could be dangerous for Alex and Abby, so he walked to his car instead. Seconds later, his cellphone rang.

“Things are getting interesting,” Tucker said.

Jackson scoffed. “Yeah, that’s a word for it.”

“She’s going to do this.”

“Not if I have anything to say—”

“You don’t.”

“Like hell I don’t. She signed a legally binding agreement with Ethan Cooke Security.” Even as he spewed the words, he recognized how ludicrous they sounded. “We’re boarding a plane for Los Angeles in less than twelve hours.”

“So, what, are you going to have Ethan sue her for breach of contract, or let the feds talk her into witness protection? We’ve got the same scenario as two days ago, but the stakes are a lot higher.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He smacked his hand on the top of the rental. “Goddamn. How are they going to guarantee Alex’s safety while she’s on the inside? You know as well as I do that Steve-O or Eric or whatever the hell his name is has every intention of adding her to Hartwell’s collection of prizes.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, struggling not to yell out his helpless frustration.

“We’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, well, you get me a guarantee, and we’ll move forward.”

“I’ll call Ethan and have new paperwork waiting for Alexa to sign when we get back to the staging area. We have to keep ourselves in this. You going back to your parents?”

It was tempting to head out and let Tucker handle the rest, but he couldn’t go until Alex was in her car heading back to the apartment,with the police tail following behind her. “In a couple minutes. I need to pull my head together first. Doug said he could stay with Olivia and my parents until midnight. Looks like I’ll be asking him to help us out tomorrow night, too. Luckily, he’s off duty. I owe him big time for this.” Jackson unlocked the car and sat down in the driver’s seat. He turned over the ignition and rolled down the window in an attempt to escape the stifling heat.

“I need to go. Looks like the date’s wrapping up. They’re walking out your way.”

“Okay. I’ll see you back at the house.”

“Later.”

On a steaming breath, Jackson rested his head against the seat, trying to find a grip on his anger. Flying off half-cocked wasn’t going to help Alex. He needed to do his job and move in steps. The first was to make sure Alex got back safely, then call Ethan and have him pull up every scrap of information he could find on Zachary Hartwell’s residence—blueprints, his security measures, everything. By tomorrow night, he and Tucker would know every room Alex would step in and all possible exits as well as Hartwell did himself.

Jackson came to attention when Eric and Alex stepped from the restaurant, hand in hand. They made their way to the little red KIA parked two rows in front of him and stopped at her door. Although the night was a farce, Alex and Eric appeared like any man and woman out for an evening of fun. There was no denying they made a striking couple.

Eric’s deep voice drifted in Jackson’s direction, along with Alex’s gentle laughter. Jackson clenched his hands against the wheel as Eric wrapped his arms around her waist and continued with his yammering. Moments later, he reached in his back pocket and handed her a card. She smiled and slipped it in her purse.

Alex’s smile disappeared when Eric touched her chin with his thumb and moved in, brushing his lips against hers.

Jackson ground his teeth and his foot began to bop up and down when Eric deepened the kiss and Alex’s arms came up to rest on his shoulders. “Goddamn.” This was a stab to the fucking heart. She wasn’t exactly fending him off. After what felt like an eternity, Eric finally eased back.

“You taste good.”

Jackson rolled his eyes and steamed a breath out his nose. He hadn’t been able to catch one fucking word of their conversation since they stepped outside, but he heard that loud and clear. Alex tasted good—damn good; he hated that someone else had gotten a sample.

Eric opened Alex’s door, and she got in. Her headlights came on and she backed up, waved, and drove off. The police tail followed behind seconds later, but so did a black Escalade.

Jackson dialed Tucker’s number and kept an eye on Eric Stevens.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you?”

“Right behind Alexa.”

“Good.” He relaxed a fraction. “I think you’ve got a tail, or Alex does, anyway—black Escalade.”

“Yeah, I see it. Hold on.” Tucker mumbled something to the officer driving him back to the apartment. “It’s been radioed in. The cops’ll pull them over and give us a little time.”

Jackson watched as Eric talked on his cellphone and headed back in the restaurant. One of the cops from the surveillance van followed behind discreetly. Eric was officially on the taskforce’s radar.

“They just pulled the Escalade over,” Tucker said into his ear. “They’ll keep them that way until we radio that Alexa is secure at the apartment. We’re pulling in the parking lot now.”

“Okay, good. I’ll see you at the house.” It was over—for tonight. Alex would come home safe—this time. Jackson clicked his seatbelt in place and shifted into first. He eased off the clutch and stopped when Eric came out with Lorenzo Cruz at his side. “Son of a bitch.”

The two men piled into a pretty, laser-blue Porsche and peeled out of the parking lot. A vehicle followed behind. This wasn’t even close to over. This whole nightmare had just begun.