The Emerald Key (3 page)

“Cass?” Steve glanced at the stranger, then went directly to Cass. He held his hands out to her. “I just got Greg’s text. Are you all right?”

She glanced at his hands. Strong, capable hands that could be both hard and gentle. She grasped them with her own. Steve squeezed one, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him, then pulled back, feeling as if she was doing something wrong. “Yes, I’m fine. I got another weird e-mail.” She turned as Greg joined them.

Steve snorted. “Oh, that. Greg, you’re making too much of this.”

“I think the guy is using her computer to do this—from here in the store,” Greg said.

Steve shrugged and shook his head. “Not with all the security we have on this place. He has to be getting into the machine somehow. Or maybe…Cass, you know how busy you get sometimes. You probably forgot to lock a door.”

“Never.” She ducked from under his arm, fighting not to show her chagrin. She never forgot to lock up. Never.

“Then he used your wireless connection.” Steve checked his watch. “I’ve got to get moving. I have to go to a meeting out of town. I should be back tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow? You didn’t tell me about that.”

He shrugged. “Thought I did. Must have forgotten. Is it a problem?”

Cass shook her head. Not that they had a date planned, but they always went to the local playhouse on the first night of a new play. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Cass, honey, I need to do this. It’s important to my future. To our future. This is a connection that could make or break me—us. This guy is big money and can do a lot for my campaign. The party is special invitation only. I would have asked you, but I know how you are about these things, though you’ll have to get over that if you’re going to be the wife of a politician.”

Steve had political aspirations and making connections helped with his ambitions. She actually wondered if their relationship fit the description of a “connection.” Not so much because of her, but her aunt. With Steve, his ambitions came first. She knew that. But sometimes…ah, well, no use wishing for a miracle. “I’ll be fine. No problems. Besides, Greg is here.”

“Yeah. You don’t have to worry. It’ll turn out to be some kids. You’ll see. Look at what you sell here. It invites stuff like this to happen.”

A tiny crack appeared on the face of her clock and she clamped her jaw, trying to stem her anger. Before Cass could say anything, Steve left, the bell ringing after him.

Her eyes strayed back to the stranger, who’d stood by the door during their entire conversation. If a customer, why no browsing? If not a customer, what did he want?

Greg stepped up to the man and smiled. “Oh. Hi, Nic. Cass, this is Nic Amandine, an old friend from the Corps. Nic, this is Cassandra Richards. She and her aunt own this store.”

Nic strode into the store like a powerful jungle cat on the hunt, with her as the prey. He cocked his head at her, a frown flitting across his face. “You’re the one dealing with the stalker?”

His voice flowed over her like warm honey and, like a bee, she felt drawn to it. Cass moved to put the counter between the two of them, using it as a barrier. “I wouldn’t call him a stalker. It’s just files in my e-mail.”

“If he’s sending you files with pictures taken on the sly and won’t quit, he’s a stalker. Greg, you said the last file originated here?”

“Yeah. I’ve got her PC set up with top-of-the-line security. These pictures didn’t get through that way. And I think I found a trace where he hid the files. Nasty little program set to activate when she opened her mail. That way, nobody else would see it before she did. The machine’s back here.”

“Before I look at that, when did the e-mails start?”

“Back in September,” Cass said. “The twenty-third to be exact.”

“You remember the exact date?”

“The autumn equinox—and my birthday.”

“Some birthday present. Anything else happen then? Any other strange presents from people you don’t know?” He barked the questions at her as if accusing her. She dug her nails into her palms, fighting for calm.

“Because of what we sell, we sometimes get the odd threat from fanatics, but nothing unusual of late.”

“What about Mr. Straitlaced Policeman? What’s his take?”

She almost giggled at his apt description of Steve. “Steve? He thinks it’s kids playing pranks.”

“Kids wouldn’t go to this much trouble.”

She stood aside as Nic headed for the office. His arm brushed her and a jolt of electricity passed through her. From the way his eyes widened, she knew he’d felt it too. He paused, a question in his eyes, then shrugged and entered the office. Even though the floor had no carpet, she figured he must have built up a static charge somehow. That made sense. Didn’t it?

“Cassandra?” Minerva’s voice brought her attention back to the shop. “We might as well lock up.”

“Um, sure. I’ll close out the register.” Cass ran the tallies for the day’s receipts. After her fourth time through the counts and the fourth different total, she blew out a breath and shook her head. “Aunt Minerva? Can you do this? I can’t seem to concentrate tonight.”

“No wonder. I’ll take care of this. Think you can handle the lights?”

Cass laughed. “I think so.” She shut down all the lights except the ones over the counter and in the office, then locked the doors. They both stopped their work when the men emerged from the office.

“Cass? Nic and I agree you should stay somewhere else until he gets a chance to check out the security more thoroughly. It’s too late and too dark to start now.”

“Is all this really necessary? I mean, it’s just an e-mail. They haven’t done anything physically harmful.”

“Yet,” Greg said. “This is a case of being safe rather than sorry. Whoever this Brotherhood is, they’ve ramped up their attacks and I don’t want anything to happen.”

“I feel like I’m giving in to them,” Cass said. “They want me running scared. This looks like I am.”

“She’ll be fine with me,” Minerva insisted.

Greg shook his head. “We’ve been through that. I talked to Dori. Cass can stay with us for a couple of days. You’re welcome to come too, Minerva.”

“No. I’ll be fine.” Minerva studied Nic, her lips pursed, then she grinned, the happiest Cass had seen her in a long time. “This man will be with you?”

Greg nodded.

“Okay then. Cassandra, don’t let this one get away! So much better than that other one. This one has a good aura. He will take care of you. Nicodemus is your Protector.”

“Aunt Minerva!” Heat flowed up Cass’ face. Her aunt wouldn’t quit. Minerva didn’t care for Steve and made her feelings abundantly clear any chance she got. Steve was, well, Steve. So what if there weren’t trumpets blaring and stars bursting between them? They got along pretty well and enjoyed each other’s company. That counted for something, didn’t it?

She shook her head, as if trying to shake off an annoying gnat. She had other problems to think about that took precedence over her less-than-spectacular love life. She hated being forced to run, but if she had to stay somewhere other than home, Dori’s worked for her.

“Okay, Greg. I’ll pack a couple of things and meet you at your place.” She glanced at the men, then turned to her aunt. “Besides, this will give you a chance to take care of that cleaning you wanted to do.” Her aunt’s nod let Cass know Minerva would return to the store to do a cleansing and set out stronger wards.

“Nic will stay with you,” Greg said. “He’ll ride with you to our place.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, but you do need a protector,” Nic said.

“And you think you’re him? I don’t even know you. For all I know, you could be one of these Brothers. Why should I trust you?”

Deep green eyes bored into hers. “Because you know I’m right.”

And she did.

Cass swallowed hard against a dry throat and changed her earlier opinion about his physique. In addition to being familiar, his good looks ramped up her heart rate and sent heat flowing through her body. His jeans clung like a glove and the black Henley underneath the tailored jacket molded to him, outlining well-defined muscles. She also noted that he walked with a slight limp and wondered from what?

Cass dragged her attention back to business to set the outer locks and alarms after Minerva and Greg left.

“My place is this way.” She led the way around to the back of the building, unlocked the lower door, and headed up the steps to the second floor.

“You live above the store?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Is this the only access to your apartment?”

“No.” Nic followed her far too closely. In the narrow quarters of the stairs, she could smell the unique scent of him—a combination of spice and some undefined aroma that reminded her of deep forests—rich, strong, solid. She clamped her jaws against the sensations rampaging through her.

“There’s a fire escape off the kitchen and before you ask, the door is secured with a deadbolt lock and is steel-clad with double-glazed safety glass in the window. Greg and Steve approved all my security measures.”

She stopped at the landing trying desperately to shake off the feeling that she knew him—much more intimately than she should. When she inserted the key in the dead bolt lock, a section of the steel-clad door blurred. Cass moved so Nic couldn’t see. Minerva’s face appeared and she mouthed the word “safe.” Cass nodded and opened the lock.

*

Nic followed Cass, every nerve on edge. When Greg had called and told him a friend had security problems, he looked at it as an opportunity to experience life in Littleton. Greg wanted Nic to join him in a new security firm. Greg made a good investigator and cop, but he wanted something more and starting his own PI firm with Nic would fill that need.

Nic’s own firm did well, but he didn’t care for Philadelphia. Though he loved the activity and excitement of a big city, a person tended to get lost in the impersonality of it all. He preferred the ambience of a small town. After less than a year, he felt ready to move. Maybe a smaller town and joining Greg would fill whatever he seemed to be missing. And, at less than a two-hour drive from Philly, Littleton lay close enough so if his current clients still needed him, he or a contact could easily be there. He and Greg each had their own strengths and together, they would be a formidable team.

Although only thirty-five, Nic had spent his entire life moving from place to place, never staying anywhere long enough to put down roots. A product of the foster system and the military, he finally felt ready to settle down and this seemed as good a town as any. At least he had friends here. Friends who cared about him. Friends whom he worked well with. He glanced at Cassandra. Friends with very interesting contacts.

Coming face-to-face with Cassandra Richards surprised him. He didn’t like surprises. They meant a loss of control—something he swore would never happen to him ever again. Iraq had taught that lesson well. He’d learned early to depend only on himself. Trusting others only got you hurt. The military had taught him to trust the members of his unit, but others? Not willingly.

He studied the woman. She seemed familiar to him, as if he knew her. She had dark chestnut hair curling softly into a long braid down her back and gold eyes that reminded him of fine brandy—unique and mesmerizing. She had a slender build, but with gently rounded curves in all the right places and a cute nose a lot of city women would pay big bucks to have.

But she had a boyfriend. Why did that bother him so much?

He’d never been in this town—never met her before, but he knew her. Knew the way she chewed her lower lip when she felt nervous—like now—and knew she liked her tea unsweetened and hated eggs and her favorite color was green. He also knew how to touch her to bring her to fulfillment. But when he looked at her, a sense of deep despair nearly overwhelmed him, as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. He knew she was the reason, but had no clue why.

He followed her up the steps, watching her back the whole way, enjoying the way her hips swayed, enhanced by the long skirt she wore. He also knew how shapely her legs looked under that skirt. He shook his head, trying to concentrate on tamping down his raging libido. He’d known her all of thirty minutes and all he could think about was bedding her. He focused on something else, like what the hell was taking her so long to unlock the damned door? Finally, she opened it.

“Wait here,” Nic said as he pushed past her into the apartment. “Until I’m sure it’s safe.”

He reached for his gun, stopping when he remembered he’d left it locked in his glove compartment. Wandering around the town, looking at houses and apartments, he hadn’t been expecting any trouble. He’d forgotten the first rule of the security business—always expect trouble. Nic reached into a nearby holder and grabbed an umbrella, brandishing it like a sword. At Cass’ raised eyebrow, he shrugged. Any weapon was better than none.

He moved into a large, old-fashioned living room decorated for comfort rather than style. A cream knit afghan draped over a large, navy blue sofa between two end tables stacked high with books and magazines. A matching armchair and a wooden rocking chair sat in opposite corners, next to the two long windows. A low coffee table centered in front of the sofa sat atop a bright braided rug covering the wide-plank wood floor. No nooks or alcoves where someone could hide. Good.

Along one wall stood a conglomeration of assemble-it-yourself shelves and a TV cabinet filled with a small television, stereo, DVD player and more books. Several large leafy plants sat in front of the windows. The homey decor fit her.

The room invited you to kick off your shoes, grab a drink, and relax. He thought all she needed would be a cat to make the place complete. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a large gray-striped tabby sauntered in, stopping when it spied him. They held a short stare-down contest, then the cat rubbed against his legs and purred when he reached down to rub its ears.

“I’m impressed. Wunjo usually doesn’t care for men.” Cass joined him, a second umbrella in her hand.

“I told you to wait.”