KCPD Protector (7 page)

It was her talent to form relationships with the wrong men. And while she believed George was a good man, he wasn’t the man for her and she would certainly get hurt again.

He was her friend. There were few people she trusted so implicitly. She didn’t want to screw that up.

She needed him to ground her in the current, crazy chaos of her life with his decisive words and stalwart support.

She wanted him to kiss her again.

George caught her staring at him when he lifted his stony gaze to hers. Understandably, he misread her silence as a reluctance to share the details of the past few days. “If you won’t talk to me, then tell Spike what’s going on.”

The man was dead serious. Elise dropped her gaze from those probing eyes and stroked the silky curls of Spike’s hair. “I can’t explain any of it.”

“Yes, you can.”

Boss. Friend. Security. George Madigan was all those things. It was enough.

And with nothing more than a relaxed little dog binding them together, Elise talked. She told George about the significance of twenty-three roses, how her affair with Nikolai Titov had lasted twenty-three days before he’d been deported to Lukinburg and was murdered. He already knew about Titov’s vendetta against her former boss, Quinn Gallagher, but he listened patiently when she told him how she’d unwittingly given Titov and his hit squad access to information on GSS Security and Quinn’s personal schedule. And though she’d never met Aleksandr Titov, the fact that Nikolai’s brother had come to Kansas City was a little unsettling. She talked about the house key and how the police officers had found it in its box as if the thing had never gone missing at all. She talked about the dog greeting her in the front yard, and the crash and footsteps they’d heard upstairs. She reminded George that no one else had seen the key missing or heard the weird phone call in her office. No one could prove that the very same bouquet she’d taken to the hospital had been returned to her desk or she hadn’t left Spike outside herself or that there had ever been an intruder in her home.

When she was done, Elise hugged the dog against her chest. “At least you’re okay, sweetie. You could have been hit by a car, running loose like that. Or gotten heatstroke.”

George moved to the edge of the couch, turning to face her. “Someone’s trying to scare you.”

“They’re succeeding.”

“Any idea why? Could someone be trying to discredit you for some reason? Got any old boyfriends you’ve ticked off?”

She shook her head. “That’s the scariest part—I have no idea why these things are happening to me. I mean, what’s the point?”

George pushed to his feet. “You haven’t been yourself the past couple of days. If nothing else, these mind games have disrupted the efficiency of my office.”

Elise cradled Spike in her arms and stood. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not worried about you doing your job. Even on your worst day you get more done than any assistant I’ve had.” He picked his suit jacket up off the floor and shook it open. “I’m throwing out a possible motive. Budget shortfalls and increased demand for trained personnel don’t make me a popular man.”

“I would never let anything happen that could impact KCPD or the deputy commissioner’s office.” She wouldn’t betray the people she worked with ever again. “After what happened with Quinn Gallagher, I keep my job and my private life separate.”

“You and Quinn?” He paused in the middle of buttoning his shirt cuff. His gray eyes zeroed in on her. She hadn’t confessed to unrequited love and heartbreak. But maybe George was reading between the lines of the story she’d told. “That explains a lot.”

Maybe it was all the explanation he needed to dismiss that kiss. Maybe she should dismiss it, too. But he’d seemed so...insulted that she had.

“George. I truly am...attracted to you, and I value our friendship. But there are a lot of reasons why we can’t—”

But Elise never got to finish. Her front door opened and James Westbrook stormed in. “Lise? Baby, what happened? Are you okay?” He brushed off the police officer who tried to stop him. “Let go of me.”

Denton Hale caught James firmly by the arm this time and pulled him back into the archway. “I’m sorry, sir. Since you were here, I didn’t think to relock the door. I saw him from across the street and tried to stop him before he got in. He says he’s a friend of Miss Brown’s.”

James jerked his arm free and took a step closer. “I am a friend. Lise, tell them.”

George took his time shrugging into his jacket and adjusting his cuffs, planting himself in the middle of the room’s narrow pathway. James would have to climb over paint cans and sawhorses if he wanted to get any closer to her. “Is Miss Brown expecting you?” he asked.

“No,” Elise answered. “Why are you here?”

“Lise!” James’s gaze darted from Elise to George and back to her. With a noisy sigh, he stayed where he was and held up a bundle of letters and ad flyers. “Your mailbox was open out front. So I brought it in for you. What’s with all the cops?”

“Answer her question,” George insisted.

Concern morphed into anger in James’s expression. “I’m not talking to you.”

“Answer...the question.”

“I knew you were upset last night so I came over to take you to dinner and apologize. As friends.” James negated the sincerity of his apology by glaring through his glasses at her around the jut of George’s shoulder. “Who is this guy? Is he why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Elise touched George’s arm to nudge him over a step so she could stand beside him. When her fingers lingered against the summer-weight wool of his sleeve, James’s gaze landed on the spot and she quickly pulled away. “Someone broke in, but nothing was taken and I’m not hurt. This is the man I work for at KCPD, George Madigan. Deputy Commissioner, this is James Westbrook.”

James seemed to calm down as if the hot air of his temper was a balloon that had suddenly popped. “Oh. Your boss. Good to meet you.”

Although George shook the hand James offered, he was already backing James toward the foyer. “I’ll walk you out.”

But when they reached the door, James splayed his fingers at the waist of his pressed jeans and held his ground. “Is there some reason why I can’t stay? We can order a pizza. We don’t have to go out.”

Elise followed the three men into the foyer. “I’m really tired, James. I’d be lousy company.”

There was a momentary glitch in the diplomatic charm of his blue eyes. “I’ll take a rain check, then.” He handed Elise her mail, palmed Spike’s head and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Be sure you lock your doors. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Call you tomorrow?”

Whatever. She had no energy left to say even a polite no. “Good night, James.”

With an order to Officer Hale to escort the unwanted guest back to his car, George pushed the door shut, leaning against it and crossing his arms. “He’s the guy I alibied you out for, isn’t he.”

There was no avoiding that probing gaze. “We used to date. Years ago. We went our separate ways by mutual agreement.”

“Does he know that? That you’re not interested?”

“He’s lived overseas for several years. Now that he’s back in Kansas City, he doesn’t know that many people. He’s just looking for companionship.” George’s eyes never wavered, never blinked. Elise bristled with a shot of defensive anger. “You don’t think James is behind this craziness, do you? He’s more likely to pester me into saying yes to him than he is to terrorize me.”

Those broad shoulders lifted with a shrug. “I’ve dealt with crazier scenarios. Maybe he thought you’d get scared enough that you’d turn to him for comfort.”

“James doesn’t make me feel safe. You...”

The moment of anger passed on a noiseless sigh and Elise dropped her gaze to the middle of his chest. She’d already shared way too much of her personal life for the impersonal relationship she claimed to want.

“I do.” George straightened away from the door, nodding as if she’d spoken the words out loud. “Okay. Then here’s what we do. Call someone to change this lock first thing in the morning. I’ll post a black-and-white unit outside tonight.”

“The city can’t afford to dedicate a unit just for me. You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do. It’s my job to allocate funds and personnel where they’re needed most. They’re needed here tonight.” She recognized that tone, the one that said
I’m in charge and what I say goes.

“No.” Whether she was really thinking about the common good or if she was distancing herself from the temptation of letting this powerful man take care of her, of letting him become even more involved in her life, she wasn’t sure. But she protested, anyway. “Think of the resentment. Officers like Denton Hale are already worried about their next paycheck. With the increased power demands, the city is struggling to make ends meet. You can’t just order someone to babysit me because a few weird things have happened. The police have more important jobs to do right now.”

“A trespasser in your house is a real crime, Elise.”

“But attacks on utility workers are more important.”

“You’re important.” With her arms full of dog and mail, he reached out to brush aside a loose wave of hair that had fallen over her cheek. “All right. I’ll work something else out. But I need you to be safe, Elise. You’re too valuable to me.”

As his assistant. As the fuel that made his office run so successfully. It was a lovely compliment. Yet oddly disappointing. Still, Elise summoned a smile for him. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

His fingertips lingered behind the shell of her ear, and for a moment she thought he might do something sweetly reassuring like kiss her on the forehead again. Instead, he scratched the dog’s head one more time. “Keep an eye on her, Spike.”

When the dog nuzzled his hand, the man almost smiled. But that wasn’t George Madigan’s way. He opened the door and listed off directions just like he did at the office every morning. “Bring that spare key into the house and lock this when I leave. Call me or 9-1-1 if you see or hear anything else that’s suspicious. If something seems off to you, it probably is.”

“Yes, sir.”

He arched a dark eyebrow. “Not funny.”

Elise smiled. Because it was her way. And while they couldn’t admit to this attraction or discuss that kiss, she was grateful that he’d been here for her this evening. “Thank you for everything. I’ll be careful. Good night, George.”

“Good night, Elise.”

She watched him stride down the porch steps to his silver Suburban, stopping to have a word with Denton Hale and his partner. George looked up and down the street, probably verifying, like her, that James had driven away. When he looked back at her, Elise set Spike down on the floor. She pulled the key box from the flowerpot and went back inside to lock both the knob and dead bolt.

Then she turned on the porch light, letting George know she was following his instructions and was secure inside. She watched at the front window until Hale and his partner left in their police cruiser and George climbed inside his SUV.

Feeling drained from tip to toe, Elise kicked off her shoes and carried the mail to the kitchen. The light in the foyer flickered when she cranked up the air conditioner to cool the first floor. After shutting off the extra interior lights to conserve electricity, she set the end tables back on the sofa and covered them all with the paint tarp, erasing the reminder of being held in George’s arms.

She could do this. She had Spike for company. She didn’t need a man in her life, certainly not George Madigan with his surprising tenderness and chivalrous protective streak. Tomorrow would be a normal day. Maybe she’d even get lucky and the temperatures would break and the city would get some much needed rain.

A girl could dream, couldn’t she?

Too tired to fix a meal, Elise nonetheless wound up in the kitchen. She couldn’t take anything for her headache unless she had food in her stomach, and if she didn’t eat, the throbbing would only get worse. So she tossed Spike a rawhide chew to nibble on while she grabbed a yogurt cup and half of a chocolate bar from the fridge. With only the light from the range hood to illuminate the shadows, she sat down on a stool at the island’s granite countertop to force a few bites down her throat and sort through mail. A couple of bills, summer sale notices from local merchants, a postcard from her parents vacationing in Glacier National Park and one envelope that had neither a return address nor a familiar business logo. She slit open the envelope and pulled out the letter.

Elise’s spoon clattered onto the countertop. Suddenly, the air-conditioning was working very, very well.

I hate it when you make me angry, Elise. I wasn’t pleased to see you give away my roses. That’s why I brought them back. When I give you a gift, I need you to treasure it the way I treasure you. I forgive you this time, but don’t make that mistake again.

I Love You.

“Who...?” she whispered, tossing aside the letter. The stool toppled over when she hopped off and backed away from the disturbing message. Elise barely heard Spike’s startled yelp through the haze of fear and madness clouding her brain. When her back hit the wall behind her, she cried out as if an unknown hand had touched her shoulder.

But the start was enough to clear one thought in her head.

“George.”
Call me. I need you to be safe.

Screw practicality and relationships that shouldn’t be.

Elise dumped her purse onto the counter, digging out her phone and racing from the kitchen to put as much distance as she could between herself and that anonymous letter. Searching through the numbers as she and Spike climbed the stairs, she touched George Madigan’s name and put the phone to her ear.

She dashed straight into her bedroom and opened the top drawer of her dresser to pull out a pair of socks. Her home should feel like a sanctuary, not a padded cell. She intended to put on her running shoes, hook Spike to his leash and go out into the steamy night air because even the suffocating humidity was preferable to the hazards sneaking their way inside her home.

George’s number rang once.

Elise pushed the lingerie around in her drawer. Her socks were always on the left-hand side. Her cash-filled envelope of fun money was still stashed beneath them. “What...?” She was imagining the subtle shift in things.