Someone To Watch Over Me (15 page)

First a small step, a hesitation, and then
another one.
God, I have to know.
He began to scramble down
the wash to her home.

The brush thinned out, and the young man
dropped to his knees and crawled the last thirty yards commando
style. As he reached the ironwood tree and shrubbery, he stood up
and peered across the lot to the back of her house.

He stared at the patio, blinked, and looked
again. “What the....” The glass arcadia door was intact. For a few
seconds, he wondered if he'd imagined hurling the river rock
earlier this evening.

“No!” The man swung his arm and slapped the
bushes in frustration. He'd been so sure that this would work, but
Morgan had given him the slip again. What was he going to do now?
He toyed with crawling out of the wash and breaking the door again.
No, too risky. He turned and began the hike back to his car.
Tomorrow, he'd go to the store.

***

I must get some sleep.
But after what
happened earlier, she couldn’t. Christy left Shawn. What happened?
Granted, Morgan would be the first to admit she didn't know
everything about him, but she understood one thing. Shawn loved his
daughter and wouldn't run away from his responsibilities. The
picture of the three of them on Shawn’s office wall floated in her
mind like a ghost. They looked so happy together. Morgan sat up in
the bed, then fluffed and stacked the pillows before laying back on
them. “This is ridiculous. You’ve known this man less than
twenty-four hours, and you’re worried about his former love live.
Come on, get a grip.”

She reached for the remote control on the
nightstand and turned on the small TV on the dresser. After turning
the volume down, she scrolled through the channels before settling
on HGTV. The last thing she remembered was watching a bulldozer
remove old shrubs for a front yard remodel.

Morgan awoke to sunlight filtering through
the blinds and glanced over at the bedroom clock, seven thirty. She
turned off the TV and listened. The condo was silent, so Shawn must
not be up yet. Slipping out of bed she picked up a change of
clothes, her robe and headed for the bathroom. Flipping on the
light, she glanced in the mirror. Her eyes were still a bit puffy
from last night. Getting ready to face the world would require some
extra effort this morning.

When she emerged, the smell of fresh brewed
coffee wafted through the air. After dropping off her clothes in
the bedroom, Morgan walked to the kitchen. She paused briefly at
the end of the hallway and spied Shawn standing behind the counter
with the newspaper spread out in front of him.

His hand rested on the granite countertop,
and a coffee mug lay within easy reach. A nervous flutter rippled
through her. Morgan felt like she was in some weird version of the
morning after even though technically they hadn't done anything.
What’s he going to say this morning?
She swallowed and took
a breath as she studied him.

Shawn turned the page on the paper. His hair
was tousled, and the dark growth on his jaw line indicated he
hadn’t shaved. A navy polo shirt skimmed his chest and fell below
the waistband on the faded jeans. She couldn't tell from this
vantage point, but she'd bet he was barefoot. He owned a
just-rolled-out-of-bed air about him that she found delicious.

“Good morning,” she said softly.

He glanced up at her and smiled. “How do you
take your coffee?”

“Sugar and cream.”

He turned and pulled another mug out of the
cabinet and proceeded to pour her a cup. Morgan slid onto the bar
stool across the counter from him. She peeked down.
Sports
pages.

“They've printed an article on the
fundraiser.” He handed her the mug, reached over and picked up the
newspaper on his right. She noted he hadn’t only pulled the section
out for review but had folded the paper in such a way that the
article was the first thing for her to read.

“Thanks.” Morgan took the paper. She read
while she sipped the coffee. The reporter had done an excellent job
of promoting where the funds went for this event. The family was
mentioned as longtime supporters. She felt a soft pang of
disappointment as she noted her brother Samuel wasn't mentioned.
After all these years, time had erased how his death had played a
critical role in starting this fundraiser. She set the paper down.
Shawn still reviewed the sports section.

What is it about guys and sports? She
wondered. Her father and Brad did the same thing. They read that
section of the newspaper first and would discuss, for what seemed
like hours, the status of injuries and trades of the local
teams.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

She glanced up from the newspaper. “I usually
don't do breakfast.”

Shawn grinned. “You're kidding. Breakfast is
the most important meal of the day.”

She smiled back. “So I've been told,
toast?”

“Come on, you need some protein. How do you
like your eggs?”

“Doesn't matter, scrambled, I guess.”

He pulled out a carton from the fridge and a
skillet from the side drawer at the bottom of the stove. As he
turned away, Morgan took the opportunity to check him out.
Nice.
She glanced back to the paper as he stood up. Memories
of last night, when he walked into the bedroom and caught her in
the teddy flashed through her mind. She took another sip of coffee
and tamped down her embarrassment. “I'm a little surprised at you
fixing breakfast. You didn't strike me as the domestic type.”

He pulled a spatula out and turned on the
burner. “Yeah, that's me. I'm full of surprises.”

Morgan smiled. “Do you cook a lot?”

“When I get a chance,” Shawn said.

“Okay, everybody's got a specialty. What's
your signature dish?”

“Let me think.”

Morgan watched him as he pulled out a glass
bowl, picked up an egg and cracked it, singlehandedly. After adding
a second and a third one, he took a fork and whisked them.

Impressive, she thought. Who knew when she
hired a bodyguard she would get an Iron Chef in the deal too.

“Pancakes.”

“Huh?” Morgan snapped back to attention.

“I would say pancakes. Emma loves my
pancakes.”

Morgan laughed. “Now you tell me.”

He grinned as he dropped the bread in the
toaster and pushed down the handle. “I'll make pancakes tomorrow if
we have time.”

He'd brought up Emma and he appeared relaxed
talking about her. Morgan took another sip of coffee before posing
her next question. “How does she like them, Maple syrup and
butter?”

“She likes a hearty breakfast. She spreads
peanut butter on them before adding the syrup.”

“Really, I’ve never heard of anyone doing
that.”

“My daughter adds peanut butter to about
anything she can. I should have taken stock out in Peter Pan or
Jiff years ago.”

Morgan grinned. “Actually, it does sound
kinda good. How often does she visit?”

“I get her for four weeks in the summer, and
we alternate the major holidays. Sometimes when Christy is on a
location that isn’t conducive to having a child on set, I'll take
her.”

“Has she already been here or is she
coming?”

“She'll be here in a couple of weeks.”

Morgan nodded and wondered if her stalker
situation would be over by then. If not, she supposed her case
would get handed over to someone else. She took another sip of
coffee and decided to not bring up the question.

“When do we need to be over at the resort?”
Shawn asked as he drizzled a small amount of olive oil into the
frying pan.

“You use olive oil and not butter?”

“Heart healthy fat.”

“Oh.” Morgan said. “We need to check in late
this afternoon with Ellen. Other than that things are pretty quiet.
Today is the calm-before-the-storm day.”

Shawn moved the eggs around the skillet,
silent for a few moments before he spoke. “I'll need to run to my
office for a short while. You have a choice. You can either come
with me or stay at the store. If you stay at the store, you must
not be on the sales floor. I want you behind the locked security
door, and you can't pick up any phone calls directly. Let them go
to voice mail.”

Morgan set the coffee cup down and stared
into the dark brew. Did Shawn’s trip to the office have to do with
her case? Since he didn't volunteer any information she checked her
thoughts.
I’m getting paranoid.
Besides, the downtime at the
store would give her a chance catch up on paperwork. “I need to get
some work done at the store,” she said.

He looked up from the skillet and threw her a
serious glance. “You must do exactly what I say about staying out
of sight. Your stalker will be anxious to find you today. The store
is one of the first places he'll look.”

Morgan watched as he ladled the eggs and
placed a slice of toast on a plate before handing it to her. “No
problem.”

***

“Matt asked to speak with you as soon as you
got in.”

Shawn nodded acknowledgement to the
receptionist and walked in the front entrance. When he reached the
door, he spied his partner hunched over a series of printouts.
“What's up?”

Matt glanced up from his paperwork. “They got
a couple prints off Morgan's car and a partial off the water
bottle. They belong to the same guy.”

Shawn sat down the chair opposite Matt's
desk. “Now we're sure he's been watching her at home too.”

“Yeah, the police are still running them
through the system. We're out of luck if the guy has no criminal
history.”

“Last night he threw a rock and broke
Morgan's arcadia door. We had to meet with the police and get the
door replaced.”

Matt shook his head and cracked a wry grin.
“Whew! Things keep getting better and better,” Matt said. “How much
longer do you think this will continue?”

Shawn shrugged. “Hard to say. He's smart,
persistent and pissing the hell out of me, but so far he hasn't
done anything stupid enough to get caught.”

Matt sat back in his chair. “How's Morgan
holding up?”

“As well as can be expected, she had a
nightmare last night that woke both of us up,” Shawn said.

Matt cocked an eyebrow and waited for Shawn
to elaborate. “And?”

He glared back at his partner. Shawn didn't
like the inference that something between them had happened, and he
damned sure wasn’t going to mention what could’ve happened. “She's
taking a room at the resort tomorrow afternoon and spending the
night after the auction. It's a suite, and I don't want to be in
the adjoining room, but we will need coverage. I would like to have
Sabrina in the other bedroom. I'll take a separate room
nearby.”

Matt played with a pen in his hands as he
listened. “Any problems?”

“No, and I don't want any to start.”

“Do you need Sabrina on duty for the whole
day or as Morgan's roommate for tomorrow night?”

“I need her present from early afternoon
on.”

Matt exhaled. “Okay, I'll set things up and
have Laura get you a room reservation as well.”

“Thanks.” Shawn stood up and walked out of
the office. When he reached the door, he paused, resisting the
impulse to turn around and look at Matt. If he did, Shawn knew he
wouldn’t like what he would see.

***

He stood at the sink shoveling spoonful after
spoonful of sugary cereal into his mouth, sweet and crunchy, the
perfect combination. Most people gave up eating children's cereal
by his age, but he had to thank his grandmother. She knew it was
his favorite and always kept the pantry well-stocked.

Today he’d spend his time hanging out around
the store. Morgan had to show eventually and this was his best shot
of finding her. But he had one problem; his car. They knew the make
and model he drove because the man had noticed him yesterday when
he’d followed them in the SUV.

He toyed with renting something to drive, but
the cost pushed that option out of reach. So he’d borrow his
grandmother's car as much as he loathed the idea. If his old run
down car was a POS, then hers was a major league POS. Old, big,
boxy, and a complete gas hog to boot. Yet, he knew he could borrow
it and she’d ask few questions as to why.

His grandmother stiffly ambled into the
kitchen. She always moved slowly in the morning. She walked over,
picked up the carton of milk off the counter, and placed it in the
refrigerator. He studied her hands. Long ago, they must’ve been
delicate and beautiful, but now arthritis had transformed them into
something more deformed than normal.

His grandmother, more than anyone else in
life he knew, deserved a break in life. No matter what happened,
she always stood by him. Unlike his mother, who kicked him to the
curb over a one-night-stand several years ago. He stared out the
kitchen window. The memory flooded back and he tightened his
fingers on the bowl.

He opened his bedroom door to the sound of a
crash and the stinging smack of skin on skin. “Mom?

His mother stood with her hand on the side
of her face, and a mountain of a man faced her, weaving on his
legs. The stranger glanced down the hall and hissed “Oh hell.”

His mothered spoke, “Frank, go back to
bed”

The eleven year old boy couldn't move. The
man growled. “You heard her. If you know what's good for you,
you'll return to your bedroom.”

His mother's eyes pleaded with him. “It's
okay, honey. Go to bed.”

The man snatched her arm and jerked her
around. Then it happened. Something inside the boy snapped. All
this thug cared about was making sure her son wasn't under foot.
“You heard your mother,” he shouted.

Frank clenched his fists and bit his lower
lip. “No.”

The man stopped as if the boy's answer
surprised him. Then he released his mother's arm. “I'm leaving. I
don't need this.”