Susan Squires - [Da Vinci Time Travel] (18 page)

“You cannot bring ‘guests’ to your work environment, Miss Dearborn. And to have him disrupt the tour, undermining the very principles of the museum with our young visitors . . . highly objectionable.”

“I understand, sir.” Diana said, holding herself still. She could handle this if she could just keep Gawain out of the conversation.

“I’m not a guest, Mr. Grandison. I’m here to protect Miss Dearborn.”

Great. Just great.

“Why does she need protection?” Grandison looked from one of them to the other, his mouth drawing his whole face into a pinched expression.

“She hasn’t told you?” Gawain asked, his face all innocence as Diana glared at him. “She has a stalker.”

“A stalker?” Grandison visibly shrank back. His face pinched even more.

“It’s nothing, Mr. Grandison. Really it’s not.”

“Don’t say that, Diana. You know it’s not true.” His deep voice held real concern.

“Miss Dearborn, we cannot have your private issues
endangering our guests. Stalkers are dangerous people. Until this problem with your stalker is resolved, I’m going to place you on an unpaid leave of absence. When the police have cleared the issue up, you can return.”

“Mr. Grandison, that isn’t fair,” she protested.

“Take it up with the City. They have a personnel office downtown.” He was looking around, his mind already having moved on. “Now where is my clipboard? I’ll have to rearrange the schedule.”

“You left it in the men’s room,” Diana said dispiritedly. “Shelf above the second sink.” She grabbed Gawain’s arm and dragged him to the front doors.

Behind her she could hear Mr. Grandison muttering, “How could she know that?”

“How did you know that?” Gawain asked as they pushed out into the twilight.

Diana pulled her raincoat around her as defense against the wind, or maybe as defense against the fact that slowly her life as she knew it was being stripped from her. “Never mind that; you just lied to that man and cost me my job.” She couldn’t help the outrage that was coming up from somewhere deep inside her. “How can you call yourself honorable when you lie so easily?”

“I didn’t lie. You do have a stalker.”

“We have no proof that Mordred is stalking me.”

“Not proof in the legal sense. Still, I didn’t lie.”

“You just let him think it was a sure thing and it isn’t. . . .” She sputtered to a stop. “Did you . . . Did you
want
to get me fired?” She hurried to keep up with him. The parking-lot lights blinked on, but they didn’t seem to hold back the growing gloom much.

“You aren’t fired. You’re on a leave of absence without pay.”

“Same thing. He wants a police report that the stalker
has been stopped before I can come back. You said yourself they’ll never catch him. Voilà! I can’t come back to work. Is that what you wanted?”

He opened the car door for her. “Yes.”

As simple as that? “
Yes?
You want me out of a job and unable to put food on my table.”

“I’ll put food on your table, Diana.” Though how he had money enough to do that was something she’d have to explore later.

“That isn’t the point. I liked that job. I needed that job. It wasn’t for you to meddle and get me fired—all right, all right,” she corrected. “Put on a leave of absence I can’t get off. And you let me think you were coming with me only to protect me, not to cost me my job. Sins of omission, guy.”

A strange, pained look came over his face. “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “Of course you’re right.” He took a breath. “The truth is I can’t guard you well enough here. Mordred knows you work here. Much as I’d like to lure him out into the open, I refuse to use you as bait. And I would never be able to talk you out of coming to your job. You’re too stubborn.”

“So you just maneuvered my boss into ensuring that I wouldn’t show up for work. The nerve! I can’t believe it.” She was hopping mad. She took the door and slammed it shut. “I am not going anywhere with you, mister. I’ve had enough. You walk into my life. You . . . you stalk me. You talk me into staying in your apartment, for God’s sake!” She flung her hands in the air. “I can’t believe how stupid I was. And now you get me fired?” She stomped back toward the lights of the lobby. “I’ll have Clancy call me a cab. I’m going to get my things and go back to my own apartment. Right now.”

“I’ll take you to your apartment!” Gawain called.

That stopped her in her tracks. How could he always surprise her? She turned. “You will?”

He nodded. His eyes scanned the darkness around her. He glanced to either side. Wary. Even as they had been arguing the parking lot had darkened. He now stood in a cone of light, alone against the blackness. His stance was easy but . . . ready somehow. It was how a warrior must meet his opponent. Was that how he felt about her? No. He was scanning the edges of the parking lot for danger. That scared her more than anything else he could have said or done. “Come on,” he said. “Get in.”

“You
promise
you’ll take me back to my apartment?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” He made the childish gesture. It seemed so familiar somehow. In spite of the fact that he had at the very least misled Mr. Grandison, she didn’t think Gawain would make a clear promise and then go back on it.

She stomped over to the cone of light. “You’d better be telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth, or I’ll . . .” But she couldn’t finish the threat. At this point in her life, she didn’t think she could do much about anything anymore. She found herself scanning the edges of the parking lot for lurking figures as they pulled out into the street.

Gawain slid the Range Rover to a stop around the corner from her apartment on Twenty-fourth Street. “We’ll walk down the alley into the parking lot. He might be watching the front door.” She fumbled around in that huge bag of hers, looking for her keys. He didn’t flip the overhead on to help her. That would attract too much attention.

He was sorry he’d lost her the job. But that was going to happen anyway, sooner or later, if what his father said was true, and she was important. She had another destiny to fill than working at the Exploratorium. He
had
gone with the intention of making her lose her job. In some ways he’d lied to her. He hadn’t lied about Mordred. Mordred was after her all right.

“I still think we should have stopped by your place and got my things.”

“Plenty of time for that. We’ll scope the place out first.” If he was right, they’d never get as far as moving her stuff. He opened the driver’s side door and slid out quietly. He was armed only with the knife strapped to his body under his jacket. He’d ditched the gun he’d used to shoot at Mordred into the bay, and swords were too hard to conceal. If there were watchers here, they could take
her out from a distance anyway and neither gun nor knife would stop them. He’d taken a terrible chance bringing her here. But he had to make her really understand.

He slipped behind the car and stood against her door, covering the window with his body. Inside, she was still looking for her keys in the giant purse. He went still and searched the night. The street still hummed with activity. People were getting off a bus at the corner. Several walkers carried either briefcases or grocery bags. Cars swung into garages. Lights blinked on in apartments here and there as people arrived home from work.
Good.
Harder to kill someone with so many people still about. The night smelled of salt air and the damp of an impending fog, the fumes of the bus that roared off at the corner, and garlic and onion frying somewhere nearby.

He checked the parked cars in each direction. No figures huddled in them. No one loitering. Everybody looked purposeful. Building tops held no silhouettes. Of course they could be in any darkened window with a rifle, even one far away if Mordred had found a marksman already. Gawain stepped out from the car to make himself a better target. Maybe someone would get antsy and take a shot at him instead of her.

Even this was dangerous. If he was killed, she’d be unprotected.

But nothing happened. He jumped when she shouted, “Ah-ha!” He stilled his heart as she held up a key on a ring in triumph.
Good.

“Let’s go.” He nodded.
Might as well be now.
They would already know she’d left her apartment, those nameless faces Mordred would have sent. Maybe they’d moved on.

He opened her door.

She slid out, and he tucked her in against his body for protection. “Stay close. I want to present a smaller target.”
How strange that she fit so well against him. It still amazed him that the gawky girl had turned into such a wonderful woman. He was only sorry she’d had to endure the uncertainty and pain of amnesia and feeling like she didn’t fit in this century. Those experiences had left their mark on her. He hadn’t been there to protect her from them. He felt her warmth, even through all the layers of clothing between them. It was almost like an electric shock. She looked up, and shock was in her eyes as well. Did she feel what touching did? Her hip was tucked in against his thigh, her shoulder against his side, his arm around her shoulders. He had the distinct urge to turn her, press her body against his, from chest to thigh . . . push her back against the car door, and lift her chin to kiss her. His body reacted almost violently to the thought. Could she see his lust in his eyes?

What was he
thinking
to frighten her so? When they might be in imminent danger? Answer: he wasn’t thinking at all. His body was in charge. Some strength of character
he
had. He looked around while he gathered his wits. But he didn’t let her go.

“Are we a target?” She frowned. But she made no further protest as they hurried down the alleyway to the rear door of the apartment building. She had her key out, and she shook only a little as she found the lock. “It won’t open,” she whispered.

“Let me.” Miraculously, she did. The damn thing better work, or he’d have to shock the hell out of her to get her inside. He breathed a sigh of relief as it turned. She was just too shaky. He pressed a hand on her back to scoot her inside ahead of him, let the door close as softly as he could, and peered out. Nothing untoward in the deserted alley.
You never know.
He reached inside his quilted vest and palmed the knife.

Her eyes were wide. “Just in case,” he muttered. “Okay. Head for the elevator.”

The walk to her apartment was uneventful, but he held her back as he rounded the final corner and only let her move forward when he could see it was clear.

“You’re making me nervous,” she whispered.

“Shhhh.” That probably didn’t comfort her.

When they arrived at 406, he again protected her with his body while she fit her key in the lock. The door swung open. Light from the hallway spilled into the room. He heard her gasp.

Instantly he pushed her aside and sprang into the apartment, knife low and pointed slightly upward, his other elbow out to make his forearm a defensive bar across his body.

But no one moved. The dim room was silent. Everything looked just as it had when they’d left two days ago, as far as he could tell. Except for the mirror over the couch opposite the door. That was covered with letters written in bloodred:

I’ll find you.

She cupped her hand over her mouth and began to shake. But he couldn’t comfort her before he checked the rest of her apartment. The signs of her packing from several days ago were clear in her room, clothes hangers strewn about. Mordred knew she’d taken flight. He just didn’t know where. Yet. Time to get out, before they picked up watchers outside.

Gawain came back into the room. She looked at him in question. He shook his head. “All clear.” He went to peer at the mirror. If it was blood it hadn’t dripped

“It’s my lipstick. The only one I have that’s red. Mostly
I just wear lip gloss, but I had the red for a . . .” She trailed off. “I can’t remember why.” She was definitely in shock.

“It’s okay.” He pulled her into his chest and she let him. He could feel her shake through her jacket. And the swell of her breasts. Dangerous. He was so susceptible to her. Any minute . . .
Yep. Down, boy
. But she needed him right now. He couldn’t step away just yet. “You see why you can’t stay here, right?”

She nodded, her eyes still big and staring at the lettering. “I . . . I should clean it up.”

“Nope. You should come with me.” He turned her around gently and guided her to the open door. “Give me your keys.”

She didn’t protest but handed them over. He locked the door behind them and then pulled her down the hall toward the elevator. He prayed to the gods of leaf and water that Mordred had given up on the apartment entirely when he saw she’d packed up. Uh-oh.

He stopped in the middle of the lobby. “Your iPhone has 3G service.”

“Uh, yeah.” She nodded. Her eyes were still wide, almost unseeing with fear.

“Then he can find you.” He held out his hand for it.

Blinking, she fumbled through that damn big bag with Leonardo da Vinci’s book in it until she came up with her iPhone. “Let’s hope we aren’t too late,” he muttered.

He let them out of the lobby to the parking lot and the door clanged shut behind them. They hurried down the alley to Twenty-fourth Street. He looked around. Nobody conspicuous watching them. He spotted a homeless guy sitting under an entry overhang to an empty retail space with a big
For Lease
sign plastered across the window. Not sinister, though.

He put Diana in the passenger’s seat and locked her in, then trotted over to the derelict.

“Hey, guy,” he said, pushing at a boney knee sticking out from torn jeans with the toe of his boot. The matted head raised and glazed eyes looked up at him. “Your lucky day.” He dropped the phone in the guy’s lap. “It won’t have service as soon as we cut the account. But at least you can sell it.”

“Hey, thanks,” the guy said from cracked lips. “That’s okay of you.”

“I’d sell it right away. Enjoy the proceeds.”

By the time they got back to Gawain’s apartment, Diana had calmed down some. He’d cut the service to her phone. One way of finding her was closed off. He’d opened some white wine for her, and she was seated at the counter, sipping gratefully.