Navy SEAL Rescuer (18 page)

“Nice guy, but you’re telling me
what
he was. I want to know
who
he was.
What he meant in your life and your heart.” He turned so they were face-to-face,
his eyes as soft as the summer sky.

“He was just...someone to fill the emptiness.” If she were
honest with herself, she could admit that. She’d loved him, given her entire
heart to him, but he hadn’t consumed her. Not the way she knew Darius could if
she let him.

“Just so you know, if I’d been him, I would have wanted to be a
whole lot more than that.” He ran his hands up her arms, cupping her elbows and
tugging her closer.

She should pull away. Tell him they needed to go back to the
house, but looking in his eyes was like looking into forever, and she couldn’t
stop.

No matter how much she knew she should.

“He was more than that. Funny and hardworking and...”

“Yeah,” he cut her off. “I’d want to be more than that, too.”
His hands drifted higher, cupping her shoulders, then her neck, his palms warm
against cool skin, his touch light and undemanding.

“You scare me so much,” she whispered, and he smiled gently,
tracing a line down her cheek, his finger stopping at the corner of her
mouth.

“Good, because you scare me, too.”

“Right.” She laughed, breaking away, putting some distance
between them, because Darius tempted her like nothing else ever had and if she
let herself, she’d fall right into his arms.

“I was engaged a few years ago.”

“You were?” She turned, nearly bumping into his chest.

“She broke up with me when I got back from Afghanistan. She’d
met someone else. Fallen in love. I figured that must have been God’s way of
saying that marriage wasn’t for me. Then, I met you.”

“Darius—”

“If you don’t want this, tell me now. We’ll go back to the
house and I’ll call my boss and have him send someone else out to play
bodyguard, because I don’t know how many more days I can spend with you and
still be able to walk away.”

She could see the truth in his eyes.

No artifice. No flowery words. Just Darius and his honesty, and
she couldn’t make herself tell him what she should, couldn’t do anything but
lean closer, inhale his heat and masculinity.

His hands curved around her waist, and she was in his arms,
pressed close to his chest, his lips brushing hers.

It felt so good to be there, and Catherine gave herself over to
the moment, the crash of waves receding, the scream of gulls fading. Nothing but
Darius. His lips. His hands.

Him.

She wanted this, wanted him with a passion that left her
breathless.

“Hey! You two! Aren’t we going to visit the senator?” Taryn’s
loud call was like a splash of ice water in the face, and Catherine jumped away,
her cheeks blazing as she met the other woman’s eyes.

“Hold your horses, Taryn. We’re on the way,” Darius responded,
his breath heaving, his eyes blazing, every bit of his attention still focused
on Catherine.

“Well, hurry it up. We don’t have all day.” If Taryn was
surprised by what she’d seen, she didn’t show it, just smiled and walked
away.

“We’d better go,” Catherine said, but Darius grabbed her hand,
holding her still.

“Just so you know, I meant what I said, Cat.” He called her by
the name he had the day they’d met, a name she’d hated since Peter’s betrayal. A
name she thought she would gladly hear on Darius’s lips for the rest of her
life.

“Okay,” she responded, and he smiled.

“Good. Now, we better go. Taryn gets grumpy when she has to
wait.” He kissed her forehead, wrapped an arm around her waist and led her back
to the cottage.

EIGHTEEN

T
he Kensington estate stood on a bluff
overlooking the ocean, the stark white house standing proud and tall against a
steel-gray sky. A six-foot wrought-iron fence surrounded the property, weathered
pine trees sheltering it from the view of distant neighbors.

A lonely place.

Or that’s how it seemed to Catherine as Darius pulled up in
front of the gated entrance.

“You ready for this?” he asked.

“No.” She touched the copy of the check Darius had given her to
bring. Not the real thing, but plenty of proof. The real check was on its way to
the Pine Bluff sheriff’s department. Logan planned to have a handwriting expert
determine whether the signature was forged.

“Better get ready, then, because we’re here,” Taryn said.

“She’s got a point,” Darius responded, opening the window and
pressing a button on the intercom.

“Can I help you?” a disembodied male voice asked.

“We’re here to see Senator Kensington.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but we do have something he might be interested in. A
document of his.”

“Leave it in the mailbox, please.”

“That’s not going to work. It’s sensitive material, and I don’t
think he’d want it to get into the wrong hands.”

“I’ll come and get it.”

“I don’t think you understand. We want to deliver the document
personally. If we can’t do that, we’ll take it with us,” Darius responded.

“Hold on a minute. Let me see if he has time to meet with
you.”

“I have a feeling he will,” Taryn said, tapping her fingers on
the back of the seat. Obviously, she was anxious. Catherine was, too, because no
matter how many times she tried to convince herself that there was no connection
between Kensington and her mother, she couldn’t deny the reality of the
check.

“It’s going to be okay.” Darius patted her thigh, his hand
resting there as the intercom buzzed, the warmth of it comforting and familiar.
She wanted to believe him, but something about the house and the landscape and
the steel-gray sky made her anxious, panic clawing its way up her throat.

“Senator Kensington will see you, but he only has a few
minutes. Drive up to the front door. Someone will meet you there.”

The gates swung open, a cement drive curving away from it. Not
a crack, not a hole, not even a tire tread mark marred its perfection, and
Catherine wondered how much manpower and how many hours it took to maintain.

“Taryn, you want to stay in the truck? Make sure no one plants
a tracking device on it while we’re inside?”

“Why would anyone do that?” Catherine asked as Darius parked in
front of the house. Wide cement stairs led to a wraparound front porch,
everything as gleaming and perfect as the driveway had been.

“I don’t know, but I’m not willing to take a chance. For now,
our safe house is secure. I want to keep it that way.”

“I’ll babysit the vehicle, but don’t take too long in there.
I’m getting hungry.”

“You always say you’re hungry when you’re on assignment.”

“Yeah. Well, this time, I mean it. I didn’t get breakfast, what
with waking up and having to track you two down.”

Catherine’s cheeks heated at the reminder.

She’d stood on the beach with Darius. Stood in his arms.

Kissed him.

Again.

“There are a couple of packs of crackers in the glove
compartment. Help yourself to one.”

“Only one?”

“Take whatever is there.” Darius got out of the truck as a tall
blond man walked out of the house. He jogged down the porch stairs and offered a
hand.

“Darius Osborne, right? I’m Mitch Stanford. Head of
security.”

“You ran my plates,” Darius responded, shaking Stanford’s hand.
They were a study in contrast. One dark. The other pale. One lean and muscular.
The other bulked up.

“It’s protocol. Who are your companions?”

“Taryn Derringer and Catherine Miller.”

“Give me a second.” Mitch spoke softly into a radio, then
speared Catherine with a look that made her squirm. “If either of the ladies is
carrying a purse—”

“I’m staying in the car, bub, so you don’t have to worry about
what I’m carrying.” Taryn flashed him a smile.

“How about you, ma’am?” His gaze returned to Catherine. Deep
blue eyes that should have been warm, but were cold as ice.

“I don’t have a purse.”

“Any weapons?”

“No.”

“How about you?” He turned his attention to Darius.

“A handgun.”

“I’ll have to—”

“I’ll hold on to that for you, boss.” Taryn cut Stanford off,
and Catherine sensed a change in her, a tension that didn’t fit with her bright
smile and cheerful expression.

“Thanks.” Darius handed over the gun, then offered a hand to
Catherine. “Ready?”

“I guess so.” She allowed him to help her out of the truck,
then followed Mitch into a large ornate foyer. Marble floor. Crystal chandelier.
Oil paintings on the walls.

The place looked more like a museum than a home.

“You can wait in Senator Kensington’s study. He’ll be with you
shortly.” Mitch opened a door to the left of the foyer and gestured for them to
enter, leaving the door open as he walked away.

Like the foyer, the room was large. A mahogany desk sat in
front of a bay window, four leather chairs positioned nearby. Floor-to-ceiling
shelves lined the walls, each filled with books.

“I guess the senator likes to read,” Darius commented, but
Catherine wasn’t in the mood to respond.

This place...this house that looked like a piece of
art...belonged to a man who’d paid a child ten thousand dollars.

Paid her mother.

A family photo sat on the desk, and she picked it up, studying
the senator’s face.

“You really do resemble his wife.” Darius leaned over her
shoulder, his breath ruffling her hair. She wanted to turn into him, wrap
herself in his arms again. Forget about Kensington and her mother and the
check.

“Actually, she doesn’t. My wife is a natural brunette,” Gerald
Kensington said as he walked into the room. Tall and slim with broad shoulders
and an upright carriage, he looked exactly like his photos.

Catherine placed the photo back on the desk, her cheeks heating
as she met the senator’s dark blue eyes.

“You must be Catherine,” he said, extending his hand.

“That’s right.”

“And Darius?” The senator shook Darius’s hand next, every
movement, every gesture practiced.

“Nice to meet you, Senator.”

“I hear you have a document of mine?”

“A check, actually. Signed almost three decades ago.”

“I’ve signed a lot of checks in my lifetime, young man. I’m not
sure why you think the one you have is important.”

“It was for a large amount. Ten thousand dollars. That was a
lot of money twenty-nine years go.”

“I’ve made larger donations.”

“This wasn’t a donation. It was made out to a fifteen-year-old
girl.”

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“Why would we joke about something like this?” Catherine
finally found her voice and was rewarded with Kensington’s scowl.

“For the same reason that half a dozen people a year claim that
I’m their father or grandfather or uncle. Money. That is what this is about,
right?”

“I—”

“This is about finding answers, Senator,” Darius cut in, moving
closer to Catherine.

“What answers?”

“The girl the check was written to was my mother, Jessica
Lamont. I want to know why you gave her the money and what connection you have
with my family.”

“The answer is—I didn’t and none. I’ve never heard of your
mother, and certainly wouldn’t have written a check to a child.”

“I have a copy of it here.” Catherine pulled out the photocopy
and handed it to him, watching as he scanned the document.

“Do you know how easy it is to forge something like this? Maybe
your mother was desperate for funds. Maybe she’d seen me on a campaign trail,
worked at a hotel where I was staying. It wouldn’t have been that difficult for
her to get her hands on one of my checks,” he said, his brows pulled together,
his jaw tight.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t she cash it?” The question
burst out, and Darius put a hand on Catherine’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I don’t know. Why does anyone do anything? Maybe she was
afraid she’d get caught and chickened out at the last minute.” He sighed,
running a hand down his jaw.

“Stealing a check, forging it, that’s a lot of effort to make
and then not go through with it,” Darius said.

“I’m just speculating. Like I said, I get people coming to me
all the time, making claims, wanting something from me. Nothing surprises me
anymore.”

“I’m not making any claims. I don’t want anything. I just want
to know the truth,” Catherine tried again, but the senator just shrugged.

“Of course you do. I understand that.” He touched her arm, and
Catherine’s skin crawled.

Something about him just felt off.

He was saying all the right things, acting in the right way,
but his eyes were empty.

“I’ll tell you what. How about you bring the original document
here? Better yet, just send it. That will save you a trip. I’ll have a couple of
experts take a look at the signature. I’m sure they’ll be able to prove that I’m
telling the truth.”

“If you didn’t sign the check, then who did?” Darius asked.

“Who knows? Maybe your mother can tell you, Catherine.”

“My mother died when I was five.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, and I really wish I could help you,
but an expert is all I can offer.”

“It will be easy enough for us to find our own expert, but
thanks for the offer. When we determine that it’s your signature, we’ll be
back,” Darius responded, and Kensington sighed.

“Let me tell you what I think. I think that you believe I had
an affair with Catherine’s mother. I can assure you that I did not. I built a
career on honesty and integrity. Sleeping with a fifteen-year-old girl would
violate everything I believe in.”

“Honest people do dishonest things all the time, Senator. Men
of integrity lose their way every day.”

“I’m not one of them. In my line of work, reputation is
everything. I wouldn’t have risked having it tarnished. Not for anything or
anyone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting in ten minutes. If you change
your mind about the check, just send it. I’ll have Mitch show you out.” He
walked away, his pace brisk, his carriage straight. Everything about him seemed
buttoned-up and straight-laced, and Catherine could almost believe that he knew
nothing about the check.

Almost.

Somehow, though, she didn’t.

* * *

Darius wasn’t going to wait for Mitch.

He wanted out of the senator’s house and off his property.

The sooner the better, because no matter how quickly and easily
the senator had answered the questions they’d posed, Darius was sure he was
hiding something.

Too practiced. That’s how it had all felt. As if Kensington had
been expecting them to show up and had prepared for it.

“Let’s get out of here.” He took Catherine’s hand, pulling her
into the foyer.

No sign of Mitch or the senator, and that didn’t sit well. A
house that had the kind of security this one did had split-second communication.
One word from Kensington, and Mitch would have appeared to escort them out.

Obviously, Kensington hadn’t given the word.

Why not?

Darius opened the truck door, ushering Catherine into the
vehicle, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

“How did it go?” Taryn asked, passing him his Glock.

“About like we expected.” Darius slid the gun into its holster
and started the engine, his gaze on the front door.

“Something wrong?”

“Just a feeling.”

“I’ve never much liked your feelings, Osborne. How about we get
out of here while the getting is good?”

“Good idea.”

“You think they’ll open the gates for us?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Catherine asked, leaning past him to stare
at the house.

She must feel it, too.

The heaviness in the air.

“The gates are going to open. One way or another,” Darius
responded, because he couldn’t answer her question. Couldn’t quite put his
finger on what was bothering him.

Practiced, yes, but there’d been something else. Maybe the way
the guy had talked about not letting anyone or anything tarnish his
reputation.

He pulled away from the house, circling the drive until they
were at the gate again. It opened slowly.

“Looks like it runs on a sensor,” Taryn said, any semblance of
humor gone from her face. He knew this person, this hard-edged, tough-as-steel
woman, and that was the reason he’d asked for her help.

“Looks like it.” He drove through, the hair on his nape still
on end, his mind screaming “danger.”

The road wound away from the estate, meandering through thick
pine groves, a sheer drop to the shore on the left, deep pine forest to the
right. Darius glanced in the rearview mirror but saw no hint of pursuit. Just
the empty road.

That should have made him feel better, but it didn’t.

Something was coming.

He knew it.

It was just a matter of when it would find them.