YULETIDE PROTECTOR (16 page)

* * *

S
PENCER
WOULD
BE
happy to dance every dance with Bailey for the rest of the evening. While it was pure torture to hold her in his arms and concentrate on something besides the way the color of her dress deepened the blue of her eyes or how the summery scent of her hair followed him with every twirl around the floor, at least she was in his arms. Locked down tight, her location secure.

But he’d spent as many dances standing on the sidelines, watching her chat up the deputy commissioner, a retired real estate developer and a player from the chief’s football team. He’d catch his breath when he lost sight of her behind a taller dancer, breathe easier once those sunny-gold curls reappeared.

She’d make a fine wife for any man who wanted to move up the corporate ladder or make chief or commissioner one day. She’d be a finer wife for any man who wanted a true partner—a woman whose strengths and talents complemented his own, whose gentle heart and tenacious spirit could ease a man’s troubled spirit or ignite the fires of passion inside him.

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut as the longing hit him again. He just had to get her through tonight. He had to get her through tomorrow. He had to get her to that trial on Monday, and then maybe he could decide if he could get through a life with Bailey at his side. But as long as she was in danger, as long as The Cleaner was out there, could he really risk...

Spencer opened his eyes and felt his heart skip a beat when he didn’t see her. “B?”

He quickly scanned the dance floor. Couples spun by him in a Viennese waltz. But no dark blue gown. No golden hair.

He was crossing the room to the corner where he’d last seen her. His fingertip was at his ear to call for backup when he spotted her dancing out the door into the foyer with a black-haired man.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Spencer crossed straight out the ballroom’s second door to cut off Gabriel Knight before he could corner Bailey and grill her with the same accusatory questions Vanessa Owen had, or throw out another of those
poor little rich girl
cracks. But as he excused his way through a group of laughing, chatting guests, Spencer saw that Gabe Knight wasn’t questioning Bailey at all.

Knight was introducing Bailey to his date, his boss, Mara Boyd-Elliott. The platinum blonde was sitting behind one of the dozens of Christmas trees decorating the house. Her head was bent toward a sheaf of papers in her lap. She signed her name to one and pushed the documents off to the brunette sitting beside her, standing as Bailey approached. “Miss Austin.”

Seriously? That was one screwed-up ex-family dynamic. What was Regina Hollister doing here? Judging by the business jacket and slacks she wore, she hadn’t received an invitation.

But she did seem eager to reclaim Mara’s attention. “Ms. Boyd, if you could finishing signing—”

“Regina, please,” the blonde woman snapped. “This isn’t my office. This is a social event. We’re celebrating the holidays.”

Regina exhaled a weary sigh that puffed the dark bangs off her forehead. “I understand that, ma’am, and I’m sorry to intrude. But I’m trying to help Brian take care of things before the...” Her gaze darted to Bailey and she rephrased her explanation with a bit of a sneer. “Before Monday.” She held out the pen and documents one more time. “He needs your signature on these shared asset forms so we can get the property liquidated before the end of the year. Please.”

“Oh, very well.” With a flourish that was more style than business, Mara grabbed the papers and signed each copy before dropping them back in Regina’s hands.

“Thank you, Ms. Boyd. I know he’ll appreciate it.” She included Bailey and Knight, as well, as she picked up her coat and briefcase and hurried toward the front door. “Enjoy your evening.”

So what did Mara have to say to Bailey? Apologize for ever helping her scumbag of an ex get out of jail? Ask if she’d do an interview for her newspaper?

Or maybe this meeting was Bailey’s idea. “Do you still do business with your ex-husband?”

“It was an amicable divorce, Miss Austin. We’ve continued a mutually beneficial working relationship ever since.”

“I said to leave the detective work to me,” Spencer grumbled. But as long as he had eyes on Bailey...and the suspect was talking.

Spencer hung back at the fringe of the other group and listened to the snippets of hushed, urgent conversation he could hear.

Good girl. Bailey hugged her arms around her middle, keeping her distance from both Knight and Mrs. Elliott. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

Mara Boyd was pleading her case with Bailey, it sounded like. “Because you don’t know Brian the way I do.”

“I’m certain we don’t.” Bailey shook her head. “How could you ever help someone like that?”

“He’s not well. That’s one reason we still own properties jointly—” she gestured toward the front door “—one reason Regina is working weekends to take care of his paperwork. We’re trying to protect his best interests.” The older woman reached for Bailey’s hand, but she cringed away. Rebuffed, Mara tucked her arm through Gabe Knight’s and leaned against him, instead. “When I inherited the paper and my father’s fortune, something changed with Brian. He was a self-made man. Suddenly, I eclipsed him. I wasn’t the helpmate he wanted any longer. I think he saw me as competition. I know he resented my success.”

“That’s a sad story,” Bailey said. “But it doesn’t change what he did to me.”

“No, but...” Mara sat back down and Spencer inched up to the tree to hear what she had to say. “I’m a smart woman, Miss Austin. I can do the math. The rapes started right after I divorced Brian. I’m the reason he hates women. Everything that he’s done is my fault.”

What she was sharing with Bailey was merely circumstantial, not any kind of conclusive evidence. Spencer had heard enough. The woman was trying to assuage her own guilt. And she didn’t need to be dumping that on Bailey. “Then that makes you another victim, Mrs. Elliott.” He circled around Knight and slid his arm behind Bailey’s waist. “Or an accomplice. Is there some information about your ex that you’ve been withholding from the police throughout this whole investigation? For example, did he ever display any of those violent rages when he was with you? Did he hurt you?”

“My ex-husband is a sick man,” she reiterated. “I’m trying to protect him. I owe him that.” She stood and linked her arm through Knight’s. “Gabriel, I think I’d like to leave now.”

Once they’d gone, Spencer released Bailey and turned to face her. “What part of don’t go off by yourself don’t you understand? Let me talk to Mara Elliott, Regina Hollister and Gabe Knight. You don’t need to get that close to those people.”

“I thought she could be The Cleaner. You heard her. She wants to protect her ex. She’s probably paying his attorney’s fees for him, too. I bet that’s why she’s liquidating those properties.”

“You need to stop finding suspects for me. I’ve already got a team trying to track down where Vanessa Owen disappeared to.” Spencer exhaled a deep breath and rubbed his hands up and down her arms, trying to keep the fear of her getting hurt pushed down deep where it couldn’t distract him. It was one job he was discovering he wasn’t very good at. “Look, B—it’s one thing to try to lure this woman out. It’s something else when you purposely go looking for trouble.”

Bailey’s hands settled at his chest and played with his tie. He recognized the little caresses as an attempt to soothe his concern. “I wasn’t looking for trouble. I just want answers. Besides, I wasn’t alone. The guard was right over there.” She turned to prove her point, but the table in the foyer was empty. “Max?”

“Behind you.” He limped across the marble tiles, leaning heavily on his cane. “Detective Montgomery, we’ve got a situation.”

“Not again,” Bailey whispered beside him.

Spencer reached for her hand as the bodyguard pulled a green envelope from inside his jacket and handed it over. It had already been placed inside a clear plastic bag, preserving any trace for evidence. But the card was familiar and the message was all too clear.

I
warned you
.

Now you’ve ruined your mother’s Christmas
.

“When? How?” Bailey’s fingers convulsed around his.

“We found it in the donation basket under the ballroom Christmas tree,” Max reported. “We’ve been changing the basket out every hour so we can put the checks and cash in the safe. That means your suspect has been here in the past twenty minutes or so.”

Spencer surveyed the number of guests and staff in the house. Maybe fifty in the foyer. Another two hundred in the ballroom. There were people in the dining room and game room. Staff in the kitchen and throughout the rest of the house. “She’s probably still here. Any sign of a bomb?”

“Not yet. I talked to Mr. Zeiss and our people have begun a low-key evacuation. We’re stationed at all the exits. We’re telling guests in small groups that we’ve detected a gas leak and that a repair crew is on its way.” Max unbuttoned his suit jacket at the same time Spencer did. Both men wanted quick access to their firearm if needed. “I’m on my way to inform Mr. Mayweather now.”

“Have him make an announcement in the ballroom. We need to clear the estate in an orderly manner without anyone getting hurt.” And without such a rush to the exits that their perp escaped, too.

“Nick, she’s here.” He alerted the task force members on his radio. “We’re evacuating the house. But don’t let any of the guests leave.”

“Understood.”

Spencer wound his arm around Bailey’s shoulders and turned her toward the front door. “Let’s get you out of here, too.”

Before they could take another step, all the lights went out and the first woman screamed.

* * *

B
AILEY
FELT
S
PENCER
pushing her against the wall beside one of the Christmas trees, shielding her with his body as several guests panicked and ran from the ballroom, bumping into and tripping over the people who were already there.

A violin screeched and the music suddenly stopped. She heard curses and cries of pain. A glass crashed and shattered on the hard floor. Someone was crying. There were more screams and people shouting for loved ones, the excited chatter of hundreds of people talking all at once. She heard footsteps running toward the back of the house, others shifting like restless cattle.

She heard Jackson’s voice in the ballroom, shouting to be heard above the chaos. “Everyone, remain calm. Stay where you are.” He hollered for Zeiss and his crew to get them some light and the sounds of worried voices swelled. “Please, people.”

“If anyone gets hurt...” Bailey clung to the walnut paneling, hating the frightened sounds she could hear. “Did I ever tell you I’m afraid of the dark? That Brian Elliott put a hood over my head when he wasn’t...”

“Shh.” Firm lips warmed the nape of her neck. “Just focus on the sound of my voice.” Spencer moved behind her. He pulled out his cell phone and punched up an app that lit up the screen with a bright light. “Here.” Suddenly, there was a small beam of light shining at her feet. “See? We’re not in the dark.”

Following the illumination of his phone light, Bailey could see other guests and the Zeiss security guards turning on phones and flashlights, transforming the dark night of the powerless house into a dim twilight.

Still, Bailey didn’t breathe any easier until Spencer took her hand and pulled her into step beside him. He stretched his long arm over his head, forming a beacon that several people came closer to. “I’m Detective Montgomery, KCPD,” he announced. “I need everyone to stay calm. I’m going outside to see if my people can tell me anything about the power outage. Please stay where you are.”

He slowly made his way toward the front door, but he’d made the mistake of announcing his authority and the frightened guests were following in their wake like lemmings to a seaside cliff.

“Stay put, people,” he reminded them, but they were gathering around, closing in. From all directions now.

A man jostled Bailey’s arm. “Spencer?”

Someone bumped her again and she lost hold of Spencer’s hand. “Spence?”

“Bailey?”

She reached for him again, but suddenly she was being pushed back. More people were drifting into the foyer from the ballroom now, separating her from her savior like a deep, rushing stream.

“Bailey?” He swung his light around, illuminating her face in the crowd. But they were moving farther and farther apart.

He flipped his light in a different direction, back to the ballroom’s second archway. “Duncan! Can you reach her?”

A second beam of light hit Bailey from behind. “I got her.”

“Bailey, I’ll meet you outside.”

“Okay.”

The burly bodyguard pushed aside the people in his way and closed his hand around Bailey’s arm. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Bailey nodded, eager to stay with a light and a friendly face. “What about my wrap? It’ll be freezing outside.”

Max tugged out of the path of an elderly couple feeling their way along the wall. “Cloakroom’s the other direction. I’ll take you out the back. I’ll loan you my jacket if we can’t find something along the way.”

The crowd thinned as they cleared the ballroom exodus and Bailey realized Max was walking at a quicker pace than he had earlier this evening. And he wasn’t using his cane. “You must be feeling better.”

He held up the cane and shrugged. “I kept tripping people.”

She smiled, appreciating his attempt to alleviate her concern. What she didn’t appreciate was his grip tightening around her arm. Any more force and he’d be leaving bruises. She patted his hand. “Hey, lighten up. I can keep up now.”

The first tinge of disquiet hit when he didn’t loosen his grip.

The second came when he picked up the pace, walking just as quickly as she could on two uninjured legs. “Max?”

This was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Be aware of your surroundings
,
Bailey
.

She knew she was in trouble when he turned off into a smaller hallway before they reached the kitchen. She tugged against his grip, but he wasn’t stopping. “I grew up in this house, Max. This isn’t the way—”