Guarding Kelsey ((Books We Love Romantic Suspense)) (8 page)

“Why didn’t you follow her?” Wolf demanded.

“I tried, but once the alarms starting ringing, the shit hit the fan.
Everyone jammed the exits.
By the time I got onto the street I had no idea which direction she went.”

“Go check the area where she was working.
Something must have frightened her.
Meet me at the precinct.”

He could only hope Kelsey was clear-headed enough to call for help, although he didn’t hold any hope.
If she felt threatened, the police might be the last people she would trust.
How had the gunman traced her to the library? No one outside the department knew where she went.

Damn!
How had anyone gotten close enough to frighten her?
O’Brien was
supposed to watch her every movem
ent.
She wouldn’t have run if she hadn’t been spooked, but why didn’t she attach herself to the nearest uniformed officer on the street?
She’d set herself up as a target with no one to protect her.

Dressed in his clothes from the night before, he sprinted out the door, with his shoes in his hand.
He made his way from Queens into Manhattan in record time and thankfully without an accident,
although the way he drove
, that might be deemed a miracle.
With no effort on her part, Kelsey Winston had made his controlled detachment a thing of the past.
She was the most contrary woman he'd ever known.
Any time he made a helpful suggestion she became defensive, stubbornly refusing his reasonable requests.

Who did he think he was kidding?
He baited her.
Left alone, she calmly ignored him completel
y.
He couldn't stand the quiet
.
Any conversation- even an argument
- beat the silence
.

When he arrived at the precinct, it took all the control he possessed to stop himself from making O’Brien part of the wall, and that was only because O’Brien had managed to find out what caused Kelsey to take flight.
The folded paper contained a message that was undoubtedly meant for her.

EVEN MARK ANTHONY COULDN'T SAVE CLEOPATRA FROM THE ASP.

A clever analogy, Wolf thought.
Any man who terrorized a woman would have to be a snake.
The message not only taunted Kelsey, but also shot a direct jibe to the police and their apparent inability to protect her.
How was the man always
one-step
ahead of them?

"Where did you find this?"

O’Brien shrugged.
"On the desk where she was working."

Wolf read over the message again and frowned. "Why weren't you watching her?"

"I was watching her.
She was all around the place.
Was I supposed to be watching her or her books?"

He sucked in a deep breath and tried to get control.
O’Brien was right.
Anyone could have dropped a piece of paper undetected while she worked in another area of the library.

Anyone
who knew where to find her.

He searched her purse for a tracking device that might have been planted on her. He hated to think the leak came from the police, but when he came up empty, he had to acknowledge they might be dealing with a dirty cop.
When he found her again he planned to stay on a
twenty-four
hour watch. First he had to find her.

He ran his hand along his unshaven jaw.
Where the hell would she go?
Martinez went at her apartment in case she returned, but it seemed unlikely that she would go unescorted.
Perhaps she’d gone to her uncle’s house.
He didn’t relish the idea of calling Daniel Carlyle to tell him they’d misplaced his niece.

“Krieger.
Line Six,” someone yelled across the room.
“A Father Joseph from St. Patrick.”

Unless the priest called to offer divine intervention, he didn’t have time.
“Take a message.”

“He says it’s urgent.
About the Harrison case.
He won’t speak to anyone but you.”

Wolf wanted to blow off the call until he remembered that St. Patrick’s Cathedral was in the same general vicinity as the public library. “Tell him I’m on my way.”

Fifteen minutes later he arrived at the stately gothic cathedral.
He couldn’t find Kelsey among the tourists. Did he expect her to hang out in full view?
He made his way down the pews to the back of the church to find Father Joseph.

“I’m detective Krieger.
You called me.”

“Would you mind showing me some identification?” the cautious priest asked.

He could hardly blame the older man.
Kelsey had every reason to be wary of the police.
He was lucky she trusted him, in spite of their situation.
He showed the priest his shield and followed the man to a small office in the very rear of the cathedral.
Kelsey was slumped in a wooden chair with her hands resting on her knees. Streaks marred her pale face.
A handmade afghan covered her shoulders. When he stepped inside she sprung from the chair.

Relief soon replaced panic, but her big blue eyes were shimmering with unspent tears.
Nowhere was safe.
Nothing gave her a sense of security.

Anger and guilt churned inside him.
He felt as useless now as when his partner had been killed.
Was he destined to let down everyone who depended on him?

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Come on.
Let’s get you home.”
He clasped his hand around her forearm.
She let out an anguished cry and pulled away.
The afghan fell from her shoulders, revealing the long gash in the skin.

He lifted her arm to get a closer look. "I better take you to the hospital first."

She eased her arm away and stepped back. "No!"

"A doctor?"

"No.
I want to go home. Please." Exhaustion gave her words a desperate plea.

Kelsey Winston begging to him was a sight he might have welcomed under different circumstances.
At that moment it sent a shot of regret to the heart he’d vowed he didn’t possess. She looked so lost and vulnerable.

"Let’s go
."

She mumbled something unintelligible and followed him through the church.
As he stopped at the large doors to check the outside, she walked right into him.
His hand automatically cupped her waist to steady her.
Awareness raced
through
him.
In a move that caught him off guard, she threw her arms around him and clasped the fabric of his shirt in her hands. Tremors rocked her body.

At first he was too stunned to move. He'd never been a demonstrative person and he only touched a woman when it led to a bedroom.
Offering comfort was not his strong suit but he didn’t want to let her go. He enjoyed the feel of her in his arms.
Soft and warm-and too distracting for her own good. Or his.

He moved his hands from her waist to her back and cradled her closer.
Her soft rounded curves molded to him. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. Silky strands of her hair brushed against his chin.
The sweet scent of cocoanut left him hungry to taste her.

That’s keeping cool under pressure.
He was getting aroused by a woman socially and economically a world apart from him, on the steps of one of the busiest landmarks in New York.
A church, no less.
He needed perspective
.
.and a very cold shower.
Before she became aware of just how aroused, he eased her away.

He cleared his throat.
"We should go."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.
“I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

Damn right she did!
She’d just been through a harrowing ordeal and instead of offering sympathy he wanted to get
comfortable
with her.
He was heading towards that line between professional and personal, and that made him damned uncomfortable.

He led her out the door and down the steps to his car. Carefully, he scanned the crowded area for anyone moving in their direction.
Once Kelsey settled into the seat he ran to the other side and slid behind the wheel.
He'd never given much thought to his car before, but she looked so out of place in his old Chevy that he felt the need to apologize.

"It's old but it runs."

Kelsey turned towards him. "Excuse me?"

"The car."

She rested her head against the door and stared out the window. "Oh. It's lovely."

The fright had either affected her hearing or her eyesight.
Of the thousands of adjectives that would fit the description of his car, lovely was not among them.
They passed the ten-minute ride to her condo in silence. Although he didn’t like to see a woman wracked in fear, perhaps Kelsey would now be more inclined to stay put until they apprehended the
hit man
.

As he circled the building, looking for a parking space, Kelsey snapped out of her stupor.
"You can park it in the garage."

"They won't mind?"

"No.
I have a parking space. You'll have to beep your horn for security.
I left my purse at the library."

Wolf didn't understand the connection between the two but she was hardly in a coherent state of mind. "Your purse is in the back."

She took the leather handbag from the back seat and shot a confused glance towards him.

"O’Brien brought it to the station," he said.

With a shrug, she reached inside the purse for the electronic key card. He pulled up to the booth and swiped it through.
The door opened to allow entrance.

"How easy is it to get one of those cards?" Wolf asked as he maneuvered into the parking space.

"Not easy.
You have to request them from the association board."

"Why do you have one if you don't own a car?"

A quiet sadness flashed in her eyes.
"It was my father’s."

He swallowed a groan.
Every time he opened his mouth he managed to ram his foot inside. "So you only have the one?"

"No, there are two. And I do own a car.
I just don't keep it in the city.
I have a farm house upstate."

He shook his head.
She didn’t seem like a
roll through the hay
, farm girl type.
Champagne on a brass bed with satin sheets was more in keeping with her refined class.
The fantasy of sharing that bed with her caused him to grow hard.