скачать книгу бесплатно
“We didn’t exchange names. I noticed him outside Jo’s and wondered who he was waiting for while trying so hard not to be seen. Shall I try to catch up to him?”
“No.” Her hand flashed out to fasten upon his coat sleeve just in case he might be serious about leaving her alone on the barren sidewalk. “It doesn’t matter who he was. I know what he was.”
Jack took the keys from her cold, cramped fingers and unlatched her door. He opened it for her and stepped aside as she slid in behind the wheel.
“Would you like me to follow you home?”
Yes!
She bit back that frantic cry and forced a competent smile. “I don’t think I’ll have any more problems tonight.” At least not until she closed her eyes. But what could she do? Ask him to sleep at the foot of her bed like a faithful watchdog? He’d already said in so many words that her problems were her own. “Thank you, Mr. Chaney, but I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
He didn’t shut the door on their conversation. He draped his forearms over it and gave her a long, assessing look before asking, “And how much of your time are you willing to spend to see this thing through?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A day, a week, until the thrill rubs off and the work gets too hard?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t think you have what it takes to take what I dish out.”
She stared up at him, hope crowding into her throat. She forced a steady stare so he wouldn’t know how close she was to believing what he said. Her words were heroic even though she quivered in frail doubt inside.
“I can take it.”
“Really? Day in, day out, until I think you’re ready? Not until you think you are? Do you have that kind of commitment, Miss D’Angelo? I run a boot camp, not a Club Med. What I do isn’t a trendy gym class in pseudo-self-defense for bored housewives. I’ll work you until you drop and push you until you beg for mercy.”
“I won’t beg, Mr. Chaney.”
Begging hadn’t helped her before.
Her fierce statement gave him pause. “Maybe, maybe not. But I guarantee it’ll be on your mind every minute. You’ll either cry uncle or I’ll shape you into something that will make them think twice before sneaking up on you in the night.”
“I want them to think twice, Mr. Chaney.”
“Then you think twice, right now, while you can. If you come with me, I’ll show you no mercy.”
“I’m in your hands, Mr. Chaney.”
His features tightened into a sudden impenetrable mask. “I don’t want you in my hands. I’ve got enough on my hands to last a lifetime. I’ll train you to survive, but no more than that. Don’t expect me to get involved in your cause.”
Tessa’s elation took a grounding nosedive. Jack Chaney was no hero come to rescue her. He was a tool for her to use in her own rescue.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Chaney, I know exactly what I can expect from you.”
He nodded once. “Good. Pack a bag. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at three. You’re going to camp.”
Chapter 2
Stan Kovacs looked worried.
As he watched Tessa pull the zippers up on her suitcase, his expression had all the forlorn characteristics of a droopy-faced basset hound.
“Stan, it was your idea,” she reminded him as she set the case by the door of her apartment. She tried not to notice the significance of the chains and new dead bolt locks. “If you didn’t trust him, why did you insist I call him?”
“Oh, I do trust him. With my ex-wife, my money, my life. But not necessarily with my best friend’s daughter. Chaney can be…”
“Difficult,” she supplied. “Yes, I know. But we’re not dating, Stan. I don’t care if he’s difficult. Just as long as he’s as good as you say he is.”
Stan’s features didn’t alter at his mournful reply. “Oh, he is. No doubt about that.”
She fussed with the tags on her luggage, trying to think of how best to broach the subject. “I know in your business you’ve met all sorts of rather unsavory people.”
“The dregs in the cup, so to speak,” Stan agreed.
“How did you meet Jack Chaney?”
He smiled thinly. “Long story.”
“The Cliff’s Notes version. How did you get tight with a mercenary?”
That did manage to rearrange Kovacs’s dour look. “What? Where did you get the idea that Chaney was a merc?”
“You.”
“Oh.” He glanced away sheepishly. “Guess I was trying to impress you or maybe scare you off from taking this particular path. Jack’s a lot of things but he’s not an indiscriminate killer.”
“So he’s the discriminating kind.”
“He’s the military kind. The Black Ops covert, no-record-of-his-name, disavow-all-knowledge-if-caught-or-killed kind. He’s worked in a lot of places I’d never want to visit. His call sign was Lone Wolf. That’ll tell you all you need to know about Jack Chaney.”
“CIA?”
“I’m sure there are some initials involved but I don’t want to know what they are. He’s no angel but he’s not the devil I obviously let you think he was, either. Sorry.”
“For letting me think that or because he isn’t?”
They shared smiles and a long silence. Realizing Stan had never exactly answered her question, which meant he had no intention of doing so, Tessa sighed.
“No matter his initials, I need him. And, Stan, I need you to keep on top of things while I’m gone. I can’t let the trail to the real killers grow even colder.”
“I plan to. I’m not giving up on your dad. He didn’t give up on me when he had every reason to.”
She touched his arm, eager to defuse his umbrage. “I never thought you would, Stan. Not for a second. I just want you to be extra, extra careful.”
His face relaxed into a grin. “Yeah, like a fat, ex-alcoholic is going to put the fear of God into Martinez’s men.”
“I’m just a girl and I worried them plenty.”
They both sobered. Stan nodded.
“I’ll be quiet as a mouse. They won’t even hear me scratching around.”
She squeezed his beefy forearm through the truly ugly sport coat. “Good. Keep me posted. See if you can find out what Martinez had on Johnnie O’ that was so bad he took jail time just to set up my father.” That was the part of the case that had convinced the police to look hard at Robert D’Angelo. Johnnie O’Casey, three-time loser and small-time drug pusher, hadn’t tried very hard to barter his way out of prison. He’d accepted the sentence and still named the district attorney as his accomplice. If saving his own worthless hide hadn’t been the motive, something else had triggered his sudden desire to name names.
The wrong names.
But for what price and who had paid the bill?
“I’ll look in on your mom, too.”
“Oh. Thanks, Stan. I’m sure Dad would want you to.” Her lack of enthusiasm implied that it wasn’t her priority. Stan simply nodded. He never intruded on their family dynamics even though Tessa could tell by the pursing of his lips that he wanted to.
A knock at the door had Tessa taking a quick, involuntary breath as Stan reached for the knob. A silly reaction. Did she really expect one of Martinez’s hired hit men to knock?
“Hey, Jack,” Stan greeted jovially. “How’s your dad?”
“Wondering when you’re going to stop over for a little five-card.” Jack Chaney stood in the hall looking dark and sleek and dangerous. Just the man she needed to see. Tessa released her breath in a relieved gust. She hadn’t been sure he’d go through with it. Take nothing for granted, her father had always told her.
Stan laughed. “I haven’t recovered from the last fleecing he gave me.”
“It’s your face, Stan. Your secrets are written all over it.”
Pleasantries exchanged, Chaney looked down at Tessa’s three-piece set of matched Gucci luggage without a blink. But he frowned at the sight of the cat carrier and the pair of glittering yellow eyes glaring out at him through the mesh door. Noting his disapproval, Tessa hoisted up the carrier, giving a defiant lift of one brow.
“Tinker goes with me. Love me, love my cat.”
A dark brow arched. “An interesting but unlikely suggestion.”
Wondering which part he found the most distasteful, Tessa stated, “I’m ready, Mr. Chaney.” She picked up the medium-size suitcase. “Can you get the other two?”
“Yes, ma’am. Your chariot is out front. It’s the Dodge Ram. Just toss your stuff in the back.”
Frowning to think he meant Tinker, as well, she was distracted by Stan’s quick hug and peck on her cheek.
“Behave,” he warned in a whisper.
“I will if he will.”
After Tessa started toward the stairwell, Stan confronted the younger man candidly.
“She’s tougher than she looks.”
“I hope so, for her sake.”
“You behave, too.”
Jack offered a lopsided smile. “Don’t I always.”
Stan rolled his eyes. Then the merriment was gone. “Watch over her, Jack. Keep her under wraps until I can find out if there’s any truth to what she’s saying.”
Jack gave a snort. “Or to what she wants to believe.”
“Somebody beat the hell out of her. I’m not willing to take any chances that it wasn’t just a coincidence.”
“You think her father is innocent, Stan?”
The P.I. frowned a minute then answered. “Right now, I don’t care. Rob D’Angelo is beyond their reach, but she isn’t. I don’t want anything else to hurt her, Jack.”
“What about the truth?”
“By the time I find it, she’ll be ready to hear it. Like I said, she’s tougher than she looks.”
Jack shrugged noncommittally. “If you say so.”
“What shall I tell anyone who asks about her?”
“Tell them she’s going to camp.”
“Saying your goodbyes to the old homestead?”
Tessa, who’d been staring up at the curtain-covered windows of her apartment, gave a start then a rueful smile. Saying goodbye to the sleepless nights, to the insidious terror that had her checking behind doors and under the bed in a manic cycle of fear? Good riddance was more like it. Whatever she was heading toward had to be better than that.
She suddenly realized that she didn’t want to return to the rooms with the upscale address she’d so proudly decorated with trendy furnishings that toted her independence. She now saw the shadowed corners of the second-floor rooms as a prison when they’d once represented her freedom. She couldn’t open the front door without seeing the glass glittering on the floor, without hearing the sinister whisper of her attacker’s voice.
No, she would never put her belongings back in that place where she no longer belonged.
For now, she was making her home with Jack Chaney. And after that…Well, she’d just have to improvise.
“Let’s go, Mr. Chaney.”
“Before you change your mind?”
She met his smug assertion with a cool glance. “Or you change yours.”
He opened the door for her to climb up into the four-wheel-drive vehicle, then scowled at the sight of the cat carrier on the floor of the passenger side.
“Not an animal lover, I take it.”
“Sure. I love them with gravy and potatoes on the side.” He shut her inside the truck before she could manage a curt reply.
Sticking her fingers through the wire grid, Tessa murmured, “Don’t mind him, Tinker. He’s just being…difficult.” A wet nose touched her fingertips in seeming agreement.
Chaney dropped behind the wheel and started the vehicle, provoking the engine into a series of coughs and grumbles. The smell of something scorching filled the cab.
“We could have taken my car,” she posed diplomatically.
“Your car is easily traced to you. Just swallow your pride and enjoy the ride.” He shifted and the beater shuddered away from the curb with a roar. “From now on, you’re officially undercover.”
