Her 24-Hour Protector (12 page)

Was it
following
her?

Panic whispered through Jenna.

She recalled the warning notes in her father’s desk drawer…
eliminating Rothchild trash, one by one.
She glanced up, trying to determine the model of the vehicle, but all she could make out was that it was a dark sedan.

The headlights loomed closer again, high beams blazing into her rearview mirror, making her eyes water. Jenna tightened her hands on the wheel. She saw an off-ramp looming ahead. It led off the freeway. On instinct, she swerved down onto the ramp, praying that the car would not follow, that she was just imagining it was tailing her.

It swerved after her.

The first dark tendrils of terror clawed through her. She
was
being pursued. The road fed into a quieter, secluded community near the deserted desert fringe. The sedan sped up behind her. Jenna’s heart began to pound.

“Hold on, Naps,” she whispered, hitting the gas, causing her tires to skid as she wheeled sharply round a corner.

But the sedan kept pace. The streets grew darker, more empty. Narrower. Raw fear tightened her throat. “What does that freaking idiot want with us?” she whispered to Napoleon.

As she headed over a long bridge, the headlights began to loom closer again. With one hand fisted on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road, Jenna groped under the dash for her purse. She pulled out her phone, began to dial, but the sedan drew up suddenly and smacked her bumper from behind. Her car lurched violently forward. She gasped, dropping her phone, as she clutched at the wheel with both hands.

It hit again, more at an angle.

This time her car slammed against the bridge railing on the passenger side, metal sparking against metal, tires screeching. She bounced back into the lane, swerving, managing to re-steady her vehicle, heart slamming in her throat, her body wet with perspiration. She saw the dark sedan speeding up again and veering wide out to her left, coming in for a sideswipe on the driver’s side.

Oh, God, he was going to try and push her over the bridge railing!

She saw a highway on-ramp up ahead. She
had
to get back onto that freeway, where there were more cars, people. She gritted her teeth, punching down on the gas just as the sedan smacked sideways into her. She bounced off a median, swerving violently back onto the road. She was almost to the on-ramp,
almost!

Jenna flattened the accelerator to the floor, screeching up the on-ramp as the sedan closed the distance gap at incredible speed behind her. It drew almost level with her as the road narrowed, forcing her vehicle to scrape against the concrete abutment, throwing sparks.

The passenger window of the sedan slid down. Then she heard it, something thudding into her car. He was shooting at
her! Oh, dear God,
someone was trying to kill her!
Another bullet sparked off metal.

Adrenaline dumped into her system, firing every synapse in her body as she kept her foot flat on the gas, focusing dead ahead where she wanted to go. And Jenna careered from the on-ramp onto the highway, bouncing and shooting diagonally across four lanes. Cars screeched everywhere, radiating out from her, but she had her fists clamped on the wheel, and she aimed for the gaps between vehicles. A small truck swerved madly, narrowly missing Jenna. But in doing so it connected the back bumper of an old station wagon, sending it into an instant 360 degree spin behind her. Cars and trucks swerved outward from the spinning station wagon, tires shrieking, horns blaring…and she heard the sickening thud and crunches of metal against metal. But she
couldn’t
look back. She kept speeding down the highway, hands fisted on her wheel, limbs shaking, tears streaming down her face. Soon the sound of sirens began to wail, coming at her along the highway from the opposite direction.

She passed the flashing lights and the screaming fire engines and ambulances.

Shaking violently now, mouth bone dry, her body drenched with sweat, Jenna drove for the one solid thing—the one person in her world who would know exactly what to do, how to keep her safe. Even if he was using her.

She pulled up outside Lex’s modest suburban house, relief washing through her chest when she saw that his lights were still on inside. Jenna cut the engine, glanced up into her rearview mirror, saw nothing but empty street.

She peered out the side windows. It was dark, the shrubbery and trees moving in a hot breeze. Ominously writhing shapes. Jenna was convinced she could see malicious intent in every shadow, in every movement. She was terrified that whoever had
murdered Candace, whoever had said that one by one, they would eliminate the Rothchild trash, was now trying to kill her. And even though the distance to Lex’s door was short, she was too afraid to get out, cross the dark space.

“Are…are you okay, Naps?” she said on a harsh sob, reaching with trembling hands for her dog who was cowering on the floor. Napoleon made a small whine and climbed up into her lap, and Jenna began to cry, hard. She couldn’t stay here, but she couldn’t move, either.

The front door of Lex’s house suddenly swung open. Warm gold light pooled out into the night, and the agent, dressed only in faded jeans, stepped barefoot onto his porch. Jenna scooped Napoleon up, rammed open her battered car door and bolted for his front door.

“Jenna?”

She hurled herself into his arms. Lex drew her quickly into his home, shutting the door to the night, and he just held her until she began to calm down. Jenna sobbed against his bare chest, clutching Napoleon, and not ever in her life had arms felt so warm, so welcome. So capably solid and protective.

So safe.

He titled her chin up, concern—real genuine care—softening his gorgeous green eyes. “Hey,” he said softly. “What happened, Jenna? What’s going on?”

“Some—someone just tried to kill me.”

J
enna cradled a mug of sweet tea in both hands, her face wan and hair disheveled, her mascara smudged. A band of tension strapped viselike across Lex’s chest, and a quiet rage began to hum inside him.

She’d told him about being followed, the chase, the pileup on the freeway, and he’d called in her description of the dark sedan. Lex could not begin to articulate the relief he felt that she’d come through unscathed, save for a dark bruise forming on her left cheek where her face must have hit the driver’s side window. He got up, wrapped some ice in a cloth. “Here,” he said. “Hold this against your cheek. It’ll keep the swelling down.”

She took it from him, eyes dark vulnerable hollows. Her hands trembled. He’d wanted to take her to the emergency room. She was clearly in shock. But she’d refused. She did not want to leave his house or him.

He also wanted to get crime scene techs to look at her car—paint scrapes, bullet holes. She’d need to make a statement also.

Lex swallowed against the emotion burning his throat and took a seat on the couch opposite her. He was disturbed by the fierce power rising in his chest, the wave of protective compassion that threatened to overwhelm him when he touched her. Afraid of what was happening to him.

Geez, he even had little Groucho Marx eating cat food from a bowl in his kitchen. He scrubbed his hands over his face. It was almost 3:00 a.m. Neither of them had had any sleep.

“Why don’t you take my bed, Jenna, get some sleep, and then I can take you down to the station in the morning so we can file a full report.”

“Lex—”

“You need rest.”

“Would…could you…just hold me?”

He stared at her, pulse racing, Quinn’s words humming in his brain.
We’ll plug it as a covert op, and the legal stuff will be in the clear as long as you keep your hands off her.

“Please?”

He got up, sat beside her on the sofa and put his arm awkwardly around her shoulders. His body warmed. Her skin was so smooth. She cuddled down into the cushions and leaned into him, closing her eyes. A small tremor shuddered through her, as if she was finally letting go of something she’d been bottling inside. He tentatively touched her hair with his fingers. It was soft. He stroked it gently with his palm, his heart swelling painfully in his chest with a sensation alien to him. His eyes began to burn.

They sat like that for a long while, in silence. Groucho came in from the kitchen, glowered up at Lex with his beady black eyes and evil little line of jutting-out teeth, then promptly curled himself at his feet. Lex snorted. He figured he’d just sunk to a
new kind of low. Mostly because he really didn’t mind the dog sleeping at his feet. He was kinda cute, in his ugliness.

“I…I need to tell you something, Lex,” Jenna whispered against his chest. “About my father.”

Lex tensed slightly at the tone in her voice. “What about him?”

She sat up, nervously pushing a thick tangle of hair back from her face. “He…he’s…” she got to her feet suddenly, began to pace, eyes filling with moisture.

Apprehension deepened. “Jenna, what is it?”

She stilled, faced him square. “He got five more death threats against our family.”

Lex took a second to process.
“When?”

“Over the past few months. He didn’t tell the police.”

“Why the hell not?”

“He doesn’t think they’re important. But I…I think whoever left those notes tried to kill me tonight.”

Rage began to vibrate dangerously in Lex. “Why didn’t you tell me this before, Jenna?” he said as calmly, quietly as he could. “This is absolutely relevant to what happened to you tonight.”

“I
am
telling you. Now.”

“What do these notes say?” Pressure built inside him like a cooker.

She exhaled shakily. “Have you got something stronger than tea?”

He got up, poured her a Scotch, handed it to her. She took a deep sip and exhaled slowly. “Whoever sent the notes is threatening to take out the ‘Rothchild trash’ one at a time, after Candace. All of the notes alluded to some historic deed that needed to be atoned for, and all mentioned The Tears of the Quetzal. The last one was signed
The Avenger.
”

“How do you know which was the last one? Were they dated?”

She nodded. “And made up of letters cut from magazines and newspapers, not like the first one that came right after
Candace was killed.” She took another slug of her drink, her eyes watering and nose going pink as it went down. “Dad said they were just some hoax, someone trying to get in on the Rothchild media hype after Candace’s death. He said Rebecca Lynn could even have left them, seeking attention. But I think that whatever is going down is tied to that diamond and something that happened a long time ago, maybe even in South America.”

Cool anger directed at Harold Rothchild arrowed through Lex. The bastard had put his entire family in jeopardy by not reporting those death threats, by not coming clean on the provenance of the ring. Because now, more than ever, Lex was certain Harold knew exactly where that cursed stone had come from. By not putting all his cards on the table, Harold Rothchild had left law enforcement chasing shadows, possibly costing months in lost time hunting down a killer. He reached for his phone. “I need a warrant,” he said, crisply. “I need those notes. And I want to see what else he’s hiding.”

Panic shot across Jenna’s face. She grabbed his arm. “Lex—wait!”

“What for?”

She couldn’t speak for a moment and looked terrified.

“Jenna? You’re not afraid of your own father, are you? Do you realize what danger he put you in? You could have been killed.”

She cast her eyes down. “I…I love him, Lex. He’s my dad. He’s…all I really have.”

Lex stilled, seeing in Jenna something he hadn’t noticed before—a vulnerable young woman. In spite of all her sophistication and seductive glitz, underneath it hid a beautiful, sensitive creature who’d been born into the rarefied air of the Rothchild empire, a woman who had zero exposure to the normal touchstones of life. A lonely woman, even, who’d armored herself with a bright, breezy smile and who sought self-validation
through attracting men. A woman who needed—
depended
—on the love and goodwill of her tyrant sociopathic father.

And in turning to Lex, Jenna clearly felt she was betraying her own father—one of the most powerful men in Nevada. She’d come to Lex’s home, and in a sense Lex could see she wasn’t going to be able to go back to her casino castle after this. He put the handset back down.

She glanced up, and his heart clenched. “There’s more Lex. I…I was at Candace’s apartment the night she was killed.”

“You were
what?
”

“I…” She dragged shaking hands through her hair. “I should’ve reported it, and I didn’t.”

“What are you trying to say, Jenna?”

“You didn’t know I was there?”

“No.”

“So you weren’t playing me, trying to get more information? Maybe find a reason to get my DNA so you could match it to my blood at the scene.”

“Your
blood?
”

“I…I cut my finger on a piece of the vase Candace threw at my head. It bled pretty badly.”

He swore. “Sit. Tell me. Everything.”

“Lex—”

“Now!” He was furious.

She sunk slowly down onto the sofa.

He waited, stomach knotted.

“I…I went to try and talk Candace into going to rehab that night, for her children’s sake, for my little nephews. Those toddlers are—”

“Stick to the facts,” he said crisply.

She swallowed. “Candace was high, drunk, whatever, and when I mentioned rehab, she flew into a blind rage. She hurled a Ming vase at me. It smashed against the coffee table, and I
tried to pick up some of the pieces and cut my finger on one, and then she threatened me with a fire poker if I didn’t leave at once. So I did.”

He glared at her, a vein thrumming in his forehead. “And you didn’t report this, why?”

“I didn’t think her drug problems and my personal issues with my sister were relevant to the homicide, or to the media circus that ensued. I…I thought it was a robbery gone wrong.”

“You
thought?
”

“You have to understand, Lex, that every time the press got hold of something Candace did, the whole sordid business was splashed all over the papers and picked up by trashy tabloids nationwide. And it was her two little children who were ultimately going to suffer. Not her. She didn’t give a damn. I just wanted it all to stop. For
their
sakes. Growing up knowing their mother was brutally murdered is going to be bad enough, damn it!”

“Geez, Jenna, don’t you see? That vase, that argument of yours, it impacted a homicide scene. How in the hell were crime scene techs to know that broken vase wasn’t part of the brutal attack on your sister? What you held back from the police has helped obfuscate an already confounding investigation! Who do you people think you are? Above the law, or what?”

Her mouth flattened. “It was a mistake, okay? I’m really sorry. I thought the Vegas police would catch the killer quickly. I thought it was just someone after the diamond, and that her latest drug binges wouldn’t need to come out. Then the longer it took to find her killer, the more complicated it became to even mention I was there. I…I started to get scared.”

Lex swore, raked his hand through his hair. “What, Jenna, makes this any different from what your father did in withholding critical evidence? Don’t you see? You’re playing the
same
game. And how am I supposed to do
my
job when you deceive
me, hamstring me like this, huh? What’re you trying to do, make a mockery of what I do?”

“Lex, no, it’s not like that—”

“What’s it like then?”

She lurched up off the chair, two hot spots forming on her cheeks. “I’ll tell you what it’s like. I have just betrayed my father! What I’ve told you could take—”

“Hey, you hid evidence, also.”

“Yes, I did. And in confessing to you, in telling you what my father has done, I could take my whole family down, including my innocent nephews. I have just alienated myself from everything I know, Lex. My father said if I told you about those notes I’d have nothing. If he finds out I have done this, I won’t even be able to go home. Because he—” she jabbed her finger toward the window “—owns the roof over my head. He owns my job. He owns who I
am,
Lex, and I’ve turned my back on him, on it all. I am on your side, damn it! Can’t you see? I
am
telling you this, and I’ll do everything I can to help you catch that killer.” Her voice caught, emotion filling her eyes.

“You’re only telling me this because you were attacked, and now you’re scared,” he said bluntly. “Otherwise you’d have come forward earlier.”
Like when I kissed you, like when you put your hand on my knee in the dark car…

She slumped down into a chair, burying her hands into her face. “I was going to tell you before I was attacked, Lex. I had made a decision to come clean, about everything. I…I knew I had to pick a side.” She glanced up slowly, tears, mascara streaking her face. “And I did. I picked your side,” she said, her voice small.

His heart constricted sharply. He crouched down in front of her, tilted her face to his. “You picked the right side, Jenna,” he said softly. “You did the right thing.” She began to sob, and he gathered her into his arms. She felt so good, so right.

And she’d picked
him.

Jenna had put herself in his hands, and no matter his conflict over her actions, Lex was determined to do right by her. To keep her safe. But what were the implications—for him, his case, his job? Could he risk involvement?

He closed his eyes. God, was it even remotely possible that she could be with him long-term, that he, the orphan son of a hooker-turned-croupier mother who’d been brutally murdered, could have some kind of future with this Las Vegas princess?

Would it be such a terrible mistake to even try?

Jenna slid her hand up the back of his neck and drew his mouth to hers. He felt her tongue against his lips, and his consciousness spiraled liked a wild, dizzying fairground ride, shades of red and darkness swirling behind his eyes as heat arrowed straight to his groin. He moved his mouth over her lips, parting them. They were wet, warm, salty with tears and the lingering notes of Scotch. She opened under him inviting, vulnerable. Lex’s heart began to pound as he teased the inner seam of her lips with his tongue. She moaned softly, sinking herself back into the cushions, drawing him on top of her. Her emerald evening gown slipped sideways off her breast and Lex’s breath clean stopped. He moved his mouth along the smooth column of her neck to the firm swell of her breast, and he teased her nipple, feeling it bead tight and hard under his tongue. It sent blood rushing between his legs, and he began to throb, hard, with exquisitely painful, urgent need.

Jenna pressed her body up into his, kissing him deeper, wrapping her arms around him, wanting him, enveloping him. Breathing hard, Lex pulled back. While he could.

While he had a shred of sanity left in his brain.

She looked up at him, her lips swollen from his kiss, eyes dazed.

“Jenna…this is…I mean…the case. I can’t—”

She sat up, pulling the fabric of her dress back over her chest.
“I’m tired,” she said simply. “I…I’m not thinking things through. I’m sorry.”

Lex stared at her, his entire body, every damn molecule pounding a tattoo that said
take her, take her now, she wants you, she’s yours…

But he couldn’t.

Not without removing himself from this investigation first. Not without thinking through the repercussions first, while he still could. Lex didn’t want to hurt Jenna. And he did not want to deny Candace Rothchild justice by having this case tossed out of court because of his actions.

And Lord knew, he didn’t want to mess up his own life. Again. He couldn’t afford to lose his career.

He swore to himself. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of.
This
was what he’d been running from when he’d tried to dump her outside her mansion in the pouring rain.