Nowhere Safe

CHAPTER 6



Trish tapped her foot against the sandy-beige tile of the atrium, forcing herself to remain calm while she waited on Lead Butt–the name bestowed on the archaic, creeping elevator by the people who worked in this building.

The stalker had warned her against saying a word to Zane if she didn’t want to end up an only child, but she couldn’t avoid coming down here today. She’d tried.

Standing here made her jumpier than walking into that warehouse where she’d met Arnie this morning.

She looked around, trying to tune in to her instincts–use what Arnie called a person’s natural spidey sense–but no one strolling through the lobby paid her any attention. The stalker could be anyone. This had to be a quick visit.

Besides, she had to finish arranging the new antiques in ReSolution so her shop would be ready for all the business she hoped the television show would drum up. Of course, that would only happen if she were chosen as one of two consultants for Treasured Past, a local program about antiques that focused on celebrity guests who were collectors. She’d made the last qualifying round and would receive instructions on her final challenge tonight at the banquet being held to promote the show. She’d just picked up the tickets for her and her guests.

She had plenty to do over the next couple hours, which meant she had just enough time to walk in, hand Zane his ticket for tonight, and walk out. He rarely came to the task force office, but being a pilot, and owning his own charter business, he was even harder to catch anywhere else during the day.

When it came to this crazy stalker, Trish would protect her brother, for once, after all the years he’d protected her. She didn’t need her brother to fight her fights any more, which was why she’d trained with Arnie for almost a year. Zane had told her his Air Force buddy was the best. She’d convinced Arnie to help her get competent fast, and to not tell Zane about the accelerated training schedule so she could surprise her brother with how well she was doing. Zane asked too many questions, like why she wanted to train so hard all of a sudden.

The defense training had been an outlet for her energy when she’d first gone sober, but when she’d started getting the stalker notes she’d become even more determined.

The only person truly surprised would be the stalker, when Trish came face to face with him and kicked his cowardly ass. Until that happened, she’d suffer the cold sweats at night and train until her muscles quit on her.

But what did that maniac want?

The stupid note Trish had found in her car last night had instructed her to sit very still for exactly seventy-two minutes and to push the rearview mirror away from her face.

Sit. In the dark.

Without making a sound and facing forward.

Every second had been torture. She kept expecting someone to sit up in the back seat or walk up to the car and shoot her point blank or...she’d imagined a million things, all the while gripping the handle of the fighting knife in her pocket like it was her lifeline.

When her seventy-two minutes ended, she’d folded over and fought off nausea, not caring if someone walked up and killed her.

She’d have welcomed the relief at that point if not for needing to look after her brother–and her sister-in-law, now that the bastard had threatened Angel.

The approaching elevator grunted and whined as it got closer.

She glanced at her watch. Tackling five flights of steps was out of the question. Her strappy sandals were perfect with the mauve Jones New York suit from her friend Kellie’s consignment shop, but comfort and balance were not among the shoes’ attributes.

True to its name, Lead Butt descended and hit bottom with a noticeable clunk. A frazzled young man complete with a wrinkled white shirt and lopsided tie waited in glum silence to her left.

Trish gave him a critical once over.

Not stalker material.

And you would know this how? Trish glanced at him again.

When the doors opened, he pushed a handcart filled haphazardly with boxes into the left half of the elevator and hit the tenth-floor button. Then he slipped between the cart and the left side elevator wall.

She stepped in, punched the fifth floor button and moved over to the right rear corner. The young guy muttered to himself and tried to tidy up his half-ass stacked boxes. He appeared harmless. But then so had Colbert, the computer geek who had cozied up to Trish during a holiday party at Zane’s office.

That scumbag had turned out to be a mole in the DEA group.

News Trish had gotten in an email this morning from her sister-in-law, Angel.

The elevator doors almost touched in the middle when a large, suntanned hand shoved between the moving sections, forcing them to bang back and forth twice. The steel panels groaned open.

One succulent male specimen breezed inside, glanced at the two floors already selected and moved over to the wall on Trish’s left. So close she could smell his fresh shower.

Sleek grooming, sun-tinted blonde hair and a strong chin. He got her vote for the next sexiest-man-of-the-year magazine award. Plenty of muscle under that button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up casually at the cuffs.

Sunshine yellow suited him.

She’d seen loads of men in south Florida who fit the criteria for gorgeous, but this one took Super Stud to the limit.

And why was she ogling him when she’d sworn off men?

I haven’t sworn off looking.

No vapid eyes of a model on that one. Keen silver-blue eyes swept over to her, taking in her suit that seemed to surprise him.

If they’d known each other in the past, that would make sense, because business suits were a far cry from what she’d worn in her Bohemian days of sandals and ankle-length cotton dresses. But they’d never met. She’d remember someone tall, tan and gorgeous who oozed testosterone.

Dangerous loads of it.

Her heart rate picked up and she couldn’t tell if it was a reaction to being trapped in this box with two men, or standing so close to one with serious bedroom eyes.

She licked her lips and his gaze flicked to her mouth.

Stupid move. She clamped her lips together and considered her escape routes.

The doors clanged shut.

The elevator began a slow ascent, grinding and squeaking in protest. Just past the second floor, the infernal car screeched and jerked to a halt hard enough to bounce her back against the wall.

The wobbling stack of boxes shifted toward Trish.

Everything happened so quickly she barely had time to cringe, expecting to be pummeled.

A masculine forearm shot across her vision to her left side. His hand slapped against the wall behind her and his body leaned in beside hers, forming a human barrier against the tumbling cardboard mountain.

The young guy shouted, “Shit!”

When Trish realized she wouldn’t get pounded, she expelled a sigh of relief on a burst of air. Then she lifted her gaze to find Super Stud’s face barely inches from hers. His voice came out low and sexy as he looked deep into her eyes. “Are you okay?”

She cut her eyes over at the stack of boxes piled against his arm and shoulder. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine. They don’t weigh much.”

Based on the way the young man on the other side of the stack was struggling to pull the boxes off of Gorgeous, she questioned his definition of heavy.

She took a deep breath.

Big mistake. Her nose should be stuck in the opposite corner, far away from the exquisite scent simmering off of him. He smelled like every woman’s secret fantasy. The sultry aftershave had to cost more per ounce than her weekly grocery allotment.

Against her better judgment, she angled her face up to the man who had her pinned against the wall.

Bigger mistake.

Those blue eyes twinkled down at her. “I’m Josh. And you are?”

Not supposed to be standing this close to someone so hot. Not when men were allowed nowhere on her radar right now. As if to go on record as being in conflict with that decision, her nipples chose that moment to tighten.

He smiled, killing off more brain cells in one second than she’d destroyed during her drinking days. He angled his head in question. “I’m only asking for a name.”

Attractive, silver-tongued devils had been her downfall for years–at least part of her downfall. After one really stupid, alcohol-laced decision that almost got her killed, she’d stuck mental “Do Not Touch” Post-it notes on any sexy male.

But she was no longer that woman who’d been led around by men, starving for approval and confusing lust with love. She’d raised herself from the ashes and stretched her phoenix wings, building a new life. Straightening her back, she lifted herself another inch, which brought her eye level with his chin when he lifted his head, giving her space.

“I’m Patricia,” she told him. Boxes bumped and banged their way back onto the cart, reminding her that she owed Josh a thank you. “I appreciate you saving me from a box beating.”

His gaze shifted with a different look, one that assessed her from head to toe with a glint of admiration. When he spoke, his voice was husky soft, just loud enough for her ears. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t allow a box, or anything else, to beat you. You may be beautiful and…tiny…but you’re no pushover. Are you?”

“No, I’m not.” That this stranger saw what no one close to her had acknowledged struck a chord deep inside, one that she hadn’t realized, until now, that she’d wanted someone to notice.

Silly thought. He knew nothing about her.

His smile returned and blood surged through her body to every part except her brain. That had to be the reason she had yet to ask him to back up so they weren’t in so intimate a position.

Or the reason she had the ridiculous urge to know what those lips would feel like on hers.

Forget the Post-it notes.

She needed a neon sign for this one.

The elevator jerked into motion and Gorgeous moved back to the wall opposite the stack of boxes that were now back under control.

The elevator doors creaked open at the fifth floor.

When the doors opened, Gorgeous Josh held his hand out for her to exit first. Her heart rate kicked up when she realized he was following one step behind her.

At the door to the central receiving area for the task force offices, he leaned over and opened the door.

Oh, great. A task force agent.

That was enough to kill any lingering hormonal overload. If there was one thing Trish wanted no part of, it was someone who worked with her brother. She’d been through a learning curve recently and no matter how much the year of training with Arnie had taught her how to think, how to assess, she’d failed miserably when she’d misjudged Colbert. She’d thought he was one of the good guys, and interested in her for the right reasons. That went to show she had a long way to go, in particular when it came to men.

She walked into the empty room and turned to Josh, wanting to leave this on a friendly, but final note. “Thanks again for your help.” What now? Have a good day? Lame.

“Trish? Is that you?”

Thank goodness. Trish relaxed at the sound of Leanne Witherspoon’s voice and turned toward the office door that had been ajar, but now opened wide.

The blow-your-mind beautiful daughter of a Florida senator came strutting out in stiletto heels that took her close to six feet tall. Her black trousers were paired with a matching tailored jacket that covered ample D cups as sedately as one could with a figure like that. With honey-blonde hair and a bubbly personality, Leanne had a reputation for getting along with women as well as men.

Trish had heard Zane praise Leanne’s intelligence and the way she managed an office full of men, taking no crap from any of them.

Stepping into the hug Leanne offered, Trish said, “How’s it going, Sugar?”

“Same old, same old.” When they broke the embrace, Leanne chided, “What’s taken you so long to visit again?”

“I’ve been busier than a stump-tail cow in a fly shooing contest.” Acquiring her unique inventory, managing the everyday running of the business, getting the word out to her growing list of wealthy customers and watching for a stalker was time consuming.

Leanne’s gaze moved past Trish. “Hello, Josh.”

“Leanne.”

“You here for a meeting?”

“Just picking up a few things.” He turned to Trish and said, “Nice to meet you.”

Saved from having to squash the interest she’d seen in his eyes, she should be relieved, but now that he was walking away she had a moment of disappointment. Which was ridiculous. And that would be why all men are off limits at this point. What was wrong with her today? She turned back to Leanne. “If my brother’s busy–”

“Oh, no, he’s not. He said he was expecting you. I buzzed him when I heard you out here. Said he’d be right out, but I’m glad you’re here. Zane keeps bragging on you and your inventory. I’ve got to get down to your shop soon.”

“You should do that. I’d love to show you some of my new consignments. One’s a seventeenth century armoire with spectacular detail.” Trish launched into a description of the cabinet.

“That sounds just like what I want for my bedroom.”

Which was why Trish had mentioned it. One of the things her customers loved was that she remembered their individual tastes and wish lists, and let them in on unique pieces that were perfect fits for their needs.

Ironically, it was the single good result of growing up with the dysfunctional need to please every person in the world. She’d gotten really good at listening–at paying attention to the details about people, and it had paid off in spades when she’d finally gotten her act together and shifted that need for approval into a client services skill. Zane had told Trish about Leanne’s recent move into a townhome she was furnishing with a mix of old and new. Trish had filed that away for the perfect moment.

Leanne’s eyes sparkled again. “I can’t wait. I’m so excited for you tonight.”

“Thanks. I’m nervous just thinking about it.” Trish’s brain buzzed with anticipation. She had the opportunity of a lifetime. She might be the underdog of the four finalists, but that meant she was the scrapper who would not give up the coveted bone easily.

Leanne’s cell phone jangled. She answered, “Witherspoon,” listened a moment and said, “Sure, I’ll meet you at the front desk and pick it up.” Ending the call, she told Trish, “Be right back.”

Leanne opened the door to the hall and voices rumbled, becoming more distinct as Leanne left and the door opened wider to the reception area. A man said, “We had to move the meeting to five. Mac’s coming in.”

Trish recognized that voice as belonging to Ben Trenton, Zane’s best friend who worked in the research lab. He’d cut his hair micro-short since she’d seen him a few weeks ago, and wore black glasses that gave the thirty-four-year-old an air of authority she’d expect of someone older.

An attractive, redheaded, fortyish woman Trish remembered from the holiday party, but couldn’t name, entered ahead of Ben. No taller than Trish, the redhead wore a tailored navy business suit on her plump body. Creamy skin the color of raw sugar and striking, dark-brown Cuban eyes suggested the brassy hair might not be natural. The woman had an air of intellectual arrogance that had grated on Trish the first time they’d met.

Trish had wasted her time trying to engage...Rhonda–that was the woman’s name–in a conversation during the party after the woman had commented on her family’s aristocratic ancestry. Trish had taken that opportunity to ask about the type of family heirlooms passed down, thinking to make the conversation about Rhonda. But the woman had pretty much blown off Trish as though she’d only endured the conversation out of manners more than interest.

Ben caught sight of Trish and grinned. “Hey, Darlin’. How ya doin’?” He crossed the room and grabbed her in a bear hug.

She smiled, relaxing a little more. Ben was like family. “I’m doin’ right fine. How’s that beautiful baby?”

He released her and his eyes lit with new-daddy happiness. “He’s perfect. I’ve got new pictures, but I don’t have time to let you tell me how handsome he is right now.”

“Email them and give Kerry a hug for me, Sug.”

“I’ll do it. I think you know Rhonda Sutton.” Ben turned to Rhonda. “This is Zane’s sister you might remember from the holiday party.”

Rhonda offered Trish a pleasant smile. “Yes. Nice to see you again.” Then she switched right back to business with Ben. “You were going to show me those files before the meeting.”

“Sure thing.” If Ben thought the woman was a bit abrupt, he didn’t let on.

Trish cut the woman some slack. Rhonda was out of the DEA office in DC and probably had way more on her mind than chatting with Zane’s little sister.

As Ben and Rhonda headed down the long hallway to the individual offices, Zane came walking up that same hallway at a fast pace. Trish took that as a good sign that he needed to get out of there soon, too.

Finally, she could hand off the ticket and get moving. “Hey, Sug.”

Zane hugged her. “You look terrific, Sis.”

Not that she didn’t appreciate a compliment as much as the next woman, but the constant mantra from her only sibling wasn’t an honest measure. It was meant to shore up her emotional state. She could waltz in wearing a filthy burlap bag and Zane’s first words would still be a positive assessment. What would it take to convince him she was no longer his fragile little sister?

Zane started in on her. “You’re too thin. You’re not eating right, are you?”

“You just told me I look terrific. So which is it?”

“Just take care of yourself,” he grumbled instead of answering.

She laughed at her grouchy bear of a brother. “Brought your ticket.”

“About tonight...”

Trish didn’t like the sound of that. “What?”

Zane scratched the back of his neck, something he did when he procrastinated. “Angel is down with a cold and–”

Trish gripped his arm. “She didn’t say anything about that in her email this morning. Is she okay? Is the baby okay?”

“They’re both fine, but she’s miserable and can’t take any meds because of the baby. She’s not getting around too easily at this point so I need to be at home to take care of her when I get things wrapped up here. That means I can’t go with you to the shindig tonight, Honey. Why don’t you pass, too?”

She squeezed out a tired sigh, wishing the day would get easier. “You have to be kidding to think I’d miss tonight.”

“I know this is important to you—”

“That’s putting it mildly. This is an unbelievable opportunity.”

“I know, honey–”

“No, you don’t know.” She held her temper in check and glanced around, glad they were alone in the reception area, but this was not the place to argue with her brother. Stepping close to him, she dropped her voice for his ears only. “I need at least two solid years, maybe three to get my certification as an appraiser. It takes even longer to gain the respect of other people in my field. This new Treasured Past television show is a chance to prove that even though I may not have my certification yet, I do have expertise. I can’t buy that kind of credibility or exposure.”

That didn’t take into account the advertising package awarded the consultants that Trish would never be able to afford if she had to buy it. After having been a burden to her brother for so long, Trish would not lose this chance to prove she could stand on her own and be successful. Prove she had real skills.

Extraordinary skills.

She’d studied under the best when she’d been in her teens. She knew antiques, especially fifteenth century, and had passed every test–so far–the television group had thrown at her.

Zane’s eyebrows dropped low over his eyes. “You made the final four. Tonight’s just a dog and pony show, right? They’ll send you the packet of instructions for the final qualifying round.”

Un-freaking-believable. “In my shoes, would you expect Angel to stay home?”

While Zane tried to come up with an answer for that–fat chance–Trish finished her vent. “What kind of message would I send by not even being present for the announcement at this banquet? The free PR alone for ReSolution is invaluable. And the banquet is a fundraiser for the program’s appraisal scholarship program. The producers are the decision makers. Think they won’t notice if I don’t show up tonight?”

All at once, she considered another reason he might not want her to go. “Are...are you saying you don’t think I have a chance?”

He frowned harder. “Of course not. You’re perfect for this. They’d better pick you for one of those two positions.”

How could she have doubted his support? “Thanks.”

“It’s just that you’ve been running hard and pushing to make a go of the shop and now this television show...hell.” He gave her his best hangdog look. “I can’t protect you every minute and I worry about you, okay? That’s it in a nutshell.”

Oh, no, he was pulling the worry card. She loved her brother, but she also understood exactly how his mind worked when it came to family. He wasn’t happy unless he had the women in his life tucked close where he could watch over them.

Angel was his responsibility now.

Trish was not. “For crying out loud, Sug. I can take care of myself. I would love to have you there, but I’m fine.”

“I don’t want you going alone.”

“I’ll be with Heidi and Gunter.”

Zane’s face took on that bulldog determination. “You said you had to go early and they won’t be there until later. You loaned your car to Bunko for the night. How’re you going to get there without a car?”

She’d call a cab, but it would be a pricey ride. Hell, she didn’t know, but that wasn’t what worried him and she knew it. She cut to the real issue. “I don’t need a chaperone.”

Zane’s eyes filled with pain, the same pain she remembered from when he’d found her laid up in a hospital, half beaten to death after she’d make a colossal, alcohol-driven mistake.

He said, “I know you’re strong, but I still worry.”

He was worried she’d drown herself in a bottle again.

She’d fought too hard for every inch of ground she’d gained back from alcohol and wouldn’t give it up now. “Trust me. I need to manage these things myself. Okay?”

He hugged her, the same hug that had kept her going through the bad years, his voice gruff. “You’re doing great, Sis, and I’m real proud of you, but humor me and let me send someone from the office so I can rest easy with Angel tonight.”

She cursed silently, facing defeat. Trish would do anything to avoid causing Angel stress. “Fine.”

People were walking up the hall behind Zane, talking in low voices, and Leanne stepped back into the reception area holding one of those overnight envelopes. She stepped over to Zane. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go to the banquet with Trish tonight. I was really looking forward to it, but I just got a call that screwed my evening.”

“Really? Damn.” Zane ran his fingers through his hair.

Trish smiled, ready to grab her victory when a deep voice said, “I’m free tonight.”

Zane and Trish turned around to find Josh standing close enough to have heard the last part of that conversation–the part about Zane wanting someone from the office to escort Trish. Josh added, “Sounds like a fun event.”

“You don’t even know what it is,” Trish argued.

Josh shrugged. “I’ve been bored to death since I got to this town. I’m up for a diversion. You can explain it on the way there.”

Trish saw Zane stiffen, his hands clench into fists, just like when she was a teenager and Zane still lived at home. He’d run off any boy who’d wanted to date her.

Leanne stepped over and whispered something to Zane. Whatever she said eased all his tension.

Zane looked at Josh and said, “Great. Thanks.”

Leanne gave Trish a conspiratorial wink.

The grin that crinkled Josh’s eyes telegraphed some silent victory. As if he knew something no one else in the room knew.

Trish looked up at Zane, who had a strange grin on his face. “Who are you? I can’t believe you just agreed to that. Where is my overprotective brother? Did aliens replace him with a sane pod person?”

Zane leaned down and said, “I’ll explain later.”

She didn’t give a flying flip what he explained. She was not going anywhere with a man from this task force who turned her body into a lust machine with one smile. With everything she’d gone through to reach this point, she was not about to gamble that progress by getting anywhere near Josh, or by letting him distract her while she was working. Tonight was too important.

Of course, somebody would have to explain that to her wild hormones. The ones that had been sleeping peacefully until they heard the mention of spending time with Gorgeous Super Stud.

Shaking her head, she said to her brother, “Thanks, but I’ve got this. You are not in charge of my social or my professional life.”

Josh asked, “What time would you like me to pick you up?”

Sighing loudly for everyone’s benefit, Trish said, “I appreciate the offer, but you’d just get in my way.”

His eyes flickered with something dark before he shifted his wide shoulders in a shrug and said, “If you say so.”

“I say so.”

Zane started in on her, “Trish–”

She raised her hand. “Discussion over.”

As she walked to the door, she heard Zane mutter something ugly and she could swear she heard Josh chuckle.

Trish let it go, feeling pretty damn good about asserting herself. She enjoyed the confidence boost until she reached her car and slid inside, where she froze.

A pale-gray envelope had been placed in front of her speedometer. Inside was another familiar note.

I know who you went to see today. I’ll find out if you told him anything. If not, he’s safe, but you still broke the rules when you visited him. Prepare to pay for that.