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“Have it your way. I only pray you don’t live to regret it.” The slam of a door emphasized the other man’s displeasure.
The man returned to Shelley. “I’m Caleb Judd.” He gestured to the slightly built boy with dark hair and eyes at his side. “My nephew, Tommy.” At Judd’s nod, Tommy settled in a corner and pulled a couple of miniature cars from his pocket.
“Shelley Rabb.”
Accustomed to sizing people up, Shelley studied S&J Security Protection’s newest client. In a black T-shirt, dark jeans and Frye combat boots, he looked dangerous and deadly. In her job, she’d come across plenty of influential men, men who wielded the kind of power that came with money and connections and political clout. Caleb Judd carried a different kind of power, the kind that came from within. There was an underlying current of energy to him, and though banked now, that raw force was evident in how he moved and the clipped cadence of his speech.
His posture shouted his military background, as did his closely cropped hair. The tanned, weathered face had the hard lines of a man who did not spend his days in the office or the gym. And his battle-ready stance and sharp gaze were so like her brother, Jake’s, that she almost did a double take.
Judd looked as out of place as she felt in the sumptuous surroundings. Score one for him.
“Thanks for coming.” His words sounded as though he’d just gargled with cut glass, and Shelley winced at the pain underscoring them.
“Thank me when I’ve done something.”
Shelley chose her clients carefully. S&J—her and Jake’s initials—was her company. The clients didn’t have to be wealthy, but they did have to be honest. At least with her. A recent client had been megarich, but he hadn’t been trustworthy. She’d returned his retainer and suggested he find someone whose ethics were as challenged as his own.
The tightening of Judd’s jaw and the impatient tapping of boots on the hardwood floor reminded her that he was Delta, a man who understood action. Still, she had a duty to him, as a client, and to herself, to make certain she could handle the job.
On a silent sigh, she acknowledged she was only postponing the inevitable. Of course she’d take the job. She didn’t have a choice.
She looked into his blue eyes and resisted the urge to flinch when she saw nothing but ragged grief staring back at her. She supposed he might be considered attractive if his mouth were smiling. As it was, it was a hard line that compressed his lips together.
It looked as though he was holding himself together just as tightly. Tension radiated from him in palpable waves. From the harsh cast of his face and sleep-deprived features, he’d obviously gone through unspeakable pain since learning of the murders. But pain was not the only thing she read in his gaze. There was guilt, as well. She ought to know. She saw it every time she stared at herself in the mirror.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I can only imagine what you’re feeling.”
“Can you?” Judd retorted. “Do you know what it is to lose a brother?”
“I came close with Jake,” she said, unoffended. “There were times when I didn’t know if he would make it back.”
Judd scrubbed a hand over his face, the rasping sound drawing her attention to the whiskers that darkened his jaw. She watched as he struggled to temper his voice. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Don’t apologize. We’ve got more important things to discuss.”
“Like how I should have been there for him.” Self-loathing coated his voice. “I told Michael he was in over his head. If he’d listened...if I had been there...”
She nodded to herself, confirming her earlier supposition that he was suffering from a crippling case of guilt. She didn’t try to talk him out of it. Guilt exacted its own price in its own time.
Movements she suspected were normally smooth and economical were jerky, awkward, as though he didn’t know what to do with the adrenaline instigated by fear and worry. “Jake told you why I need help?”
After making sure that the little boy wasn’t within earshot, she turned back to Judd and answered in a low voice, “He said your brother and his wife had been killed and that you were attacked last night.”
Other than the tightening of his mouth, Judd failed to react to the bald recitation of facts. He was probably in shock. The man had lost his brother and sister-in-law, had taken on the care of his nephew and had faced down a probable assassin, all within the space of a few days.
“You probably have the same questions I do,” she said. “Was someone trying to kill you? Or just scare you off? What makes you a target?”
Judd didn’t immediately answer. His gaze strayed to Tommy, who was still crouched on the floor, playing with his miniature cars. Of course his first concern was his nephew.
“I wish I knew.”
Shelley paused. What was she doing, taking on a case that involved a child, a traumatized one at that? Every instinct in her told her that it was a mistake, but Caleb Judd had saved Jake’s life. S&J owed him. She owed him.
And she always paid her debts.
Honor, plus an unwavering faith, was the cornerstone of how she conducted her life and ran her business.
She knew clients wanted promises that everything would be fine. She longed to give them just that. However, she couldn’t give what she didn’t have. If she’d learned anything in her years as a cop, then as an agent with the Secret Service, it was that life didn’t come with guarantees.
Bad things happened to good people. She ought to know. The nightmare had resurfaced last night, and she’d beaten herself up over it, just as she always did. She’d awakened covered in sweat, guilt-laden and hurting.
She forced that aside and concentrated on Judd, who was rubbing two fingers above his nose as though to relieve a deepening headache.
A soldier’s soldier was how Jake had described Caleb Judd. “The man doesn’t have a single nerve in his body. He’s totally cool no matter what’s going on around him.” Jake didn’t hand out praise easily. If he vouched for Judd, that was good enough for her.
Judd wasn’t looking totally cool now, though, she noted with a wave of compassion. He was beside himself with worry.
“I did some digging on the man your brother was prosecuting,” she said. Upon promising Jake she’d provide security/protection to Caleb and his nephew until Michael and Grace’s killers were caught, she’d crammed for this meeting, wanting to know everything she could find about the case. Caleb nodded impatiently, so Shelley took a deep breath and went on. “Jeremy Saba. He’s never been convicted, never even been indicted. But he stands to go away for a long time if he’s found guilty this time.” Though Shelley had never worked on a RICO case before, she knew enough to understand the seriousness of the charges. “Is there anybody else I should know about?”
“One time Michael said something about a new player making a name for himself.”
“Did he give you a name?”
“Ruis Melendez. My brother said he was a big shot in a Florida crime family.”
Shelley digested that. “Anything else?”
Caleb shook his head.
She darted another concerned look in Tommy’s direction, but he still appeared oblivious to what was going on around him. Nevertheless, she lowered her voice. “But even with your brother no longer on the case, nothing really changes. The charges still stand. So why target Michael?”
“Do you know how long it takes to build a case of this nature?” Judd demanded, his tone as sharp as barbed wire. “Michael got closer than anyone else to nailing this creep. Saba has to know that if he could get Michael off the case, everything slows down, maybe even comes to a complete standstill.”
“I get that. I wondered if you did.” Shelley nodded in satisfaction. “You’re okay, Judd.”
“So I passed?”
“Yeah. You passed.” She gave a half smile. “Now you’re wondering if I will. You don’t know what I can do. I get that, too. I won’t let you down.”
His expression grew hard. “If you do, I’ll cut you loose so fast your head will spin.”
“Fair enough.”
Still, she figured they’d better get the chain of command out on the table. “A couple of things up front. Nonnegotiable. When I give you an order, you do it. No questions asked. You do what I say. When I say. How I say.”
If possible, Judd’s mouth grew even tighter. “The other?”
“If things get rough, you don’t go all macho on me and try to protect me just because I’m a woman. I’m the professional, and you’re the client. I know you’re Delta, but this is my op and I’m team leader.”
He folded his arms over his chest but he nodded. “Agreed.”
Shelley understood no man, especially a soldier, liked taking orders from a woman, but she had a job to do. She’d already made the mistake of allowing a man to tell her how to do her job. She wouldn’t be doing that again. Not for anyone.
“Then we’re good to go. Are you and Tommy ready to leave?”
“Yes.”
She stood. “Let’s do it.”
“Where?”
She looked around the guesthouse, a haven, she supposed, for some. It had not been a haven for Caleb Judd. “I’ll let you know. Later.”
A knock at the door had her tensing. Reason told her that an enemy wasn’t likely to announce his presence that way. Still, she motioned Caleb to stay where he was. She withdrew her weapon, held it at her side as she answered the door.
A man in an austerely cut black suit, a starched white shirt, and a rigid bow tie stood on the front step and held an envelope. “Ma’am. This arrived for Mr. Judd. Mr. Alfred directed me to deliver it.”
After slipping on latex gloves she’d pulled from her blazer pocket, she accepted the envelope. “Thank you.”
Caleb joined her. “What is it?”
“It’s addressed to you. Make sure Tommy stays in the other room.” She started to open the envelope.
Judd stopped her. “My name. My responsibility.”
The stern gaze he sent her convinced her to let him open it. Before she could hand him a pair of gloves, he’d torn open the envelope.
Inside lay a copy of a newspaper clipping with the headline Boy Dies in Pool and the crudely printed words Back off or it could happen again.
Shelley quickly scanned the clipping, inhaling sharply when she saw that it referred to Caleb’s younger brother Ethan, who died before his second birthday. The accompanying note was a chilling warning.
She had taken this case because of Jake. But now that she’d met Caleb and Tommy, she was determined to protect them at all costs and go after the killers who had targeted them.
TWO (#ulink_31193c01-6b2b-583b-835c-3256fef41905)
Caleb was grateful that Shelley hadn’t interrogated him about the contents of the envelope, though he saw the questions in her eyes when she read about Ethan’s drowning.
He wasn’t up to explaining his role in the accident that had claimed his baby brother’s life. Not now. Maybe Shelley would chalk up his silence to his concern for his nephew at the implied threat.
Caleb wasn’t ready to relive the horror of that time in his life. He never talked about what had happened that day, the day that had changed his life forever. He shook away the memories and focused on the present.
Though her eyes had glittered with a take-no-prisoners ferocity, Shelley had remained calm and then called a friend at the Atlanta PD and explained the situation.
“One of my operatives will take the envelope to a friend in the Atlanta PD,” she’d said. “He’ll check for fingerprints, though I don’t expect there to be any, especially after it’s been handled by who knows how many people.”
After the operative had shown up to retrieve the envelope, Shelley had hustled Caleb and Tommy out of the guesthouse and into her car.
Shelley Rabb’s brown sedan was boring in the extreme.
Not so the woman, who couldn’t be boring if she tried. Despite the black pantsuit she wore and her understated makeup, she was striking with her sleek dark hair and intuitive gray eyes that seemed to see right through him and strip away the protective layers he’d built around his heart. A smattering of freckles across her nose belied her otherwise professional appearance.
Shelley Rabb was a walking contradiction—understated, graceful, yet athletic, and, given her Secret Service background, lethal when and if the circumstances warranted it. She was no bigger than a minute, but she made up for it in the sheer determination that radiated from her. The severe pantsuit revealed a toned and disciplined body, despite her small size.
It was obvious that she downplayed her looks, another leftover from her years in the Service.
Caleb liked what he saw, but it was the energy she carried with her that caught and held his attention. Her no-nonsense manner coupled with a fresh vitality was like a brisk breeze that swept all other impressions aside.
Her background was evident in the way she moved, her arms swung slightly away from her body, a sign of someone who wore a gun for a living. If anyone looked closely, he’d see the outline of the weapon she carried beneath her jacket, but it wasn’t bad camouflage. Caleb’s own weapon, a Glock, was tucked in the waistband of his jeans with his shirt pulled over it. He missed the heft of his Colt M4A, a mainstay of the Special Forces, but the Glock made an acceptable substitute.
He hadn’t missed her earlier study of him, the shrewd gaze which weighed words and expressions. Nor, he guessed, had his study of her gone unnoticed. It paid to know who you were working with, especially when lives were on the line.
Jake’s recommendation not withstanding, Caleb had done his homework on Shelley. He hadn’t realized that Jake was on his honeymoon until he’d called his buddy and Jake had suggested Caleb contact his sister. From all he’d learned, she was good at what she did. Great at it, if the glowing reports from clients posted on S&J’s website were any indication.
“Rabb delivers the goods,” one client, a CEO of an electronics company, had written.
Caleb returned his attention to the boring, nondescript car and wondered if she had chosen it precisely because it would attract little, if no, attention. A good choice for someone trying to become invisible.
Conversation was kept to a minimum. Caleb had a feeling that it had more to do with the lady’s preference than it did with the SDR she conducted. He’d been on enough protective details to recognize the employment of a surveillance detour route. Though tedious, SDRs were necessary to make certain no one was following them.
They left the city, heading north, thick woods bordering the ribbon of highway. Shelley kept to the speed limit, another tactic, he guessed, to avoid attracting attention. Everything she did was low-key. The flashy moves one might expect from a Secret Service trained bodyguard were conspicuously absent.
His approval rating of the lady climbed steadily. Even so, he wasn’t about to hand over the reins to a woman he’d just met. Shelley might call herself team leader, but when it came to Tommy’s safety, Caleb was in charge.
He refused to compromise on that.
When mile after mile had flown by, Caleb roused himself enough to ask, “Where are we going?”
“A safe house Jake and I bought a year ago. We keep it for clients who need to keep a low profile.”
“You mean clients with someone trying to kill them?” he asked dryly.
“Something like that.”
The heat of the day had abated, if only slightly, and the evening slid into a purple-hued dusk. Caleb glanced at Tommy, saw that the boy’s face was gray with fatigue. Caleb couldn’t deny that he was exhausted, as well. After chasing off last night’s midnight visitor, he’d spent the remainder of the night in Tommy’s room, watching over his nephew while doing some research on the bodyguard.
As though Shelley had read his thoughts, she pulled off the road at a bland motel that would never earn a five-star listing. At the registration desk, she asked for adjoining rooms.
Inside, Caleb looked about the cheaply decorated room. A television was bolted to the fake paneling of the wall. Carpet that might once have been a light green was now faded to a sickly yellow. The puny efforts of the room’s window air-conditioning unit scarcely made a dent in the late afternoon heat.
“Burgers and fries okay with you?” Shelley asked.
“Sure.”
Shelley returned within ten minutes and placed a white paper bag, redolent with the smells of grease-laden food, on the room’s one table.
“Thanks,” Caleb said.
“No problem.”
