A Kiss to Die for, page 4
The cop shot him a startled glance. “What?”
Sully exhaled. “I forgot to tell you. They had one in the car.”
“An E-13? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I fired one in Afghanistan. I recognized the design—the bullpup configuration, the top-mounted magazine. And those high-velocity cartridges made Swiss cheese out of those cars. We’re lucky they couldn’t control their shots.”
“Then the rumors on the street are true....”
“What rumors? What’s an E-13?” Haley asked. Both women looked confused.
“It’s an experimental weapon,” Parker told her. “A shoulder-fired submachine gun with a really short barrel. It’s similar to the P-90 but smaller. It has the same ambidextrous controls, but a better feeding system, and it fires more rounds.”
“Our military’s field-testing them,” Sully added. “Production’s limited. They aren’t on the market yet. Not even the black market.”
Or so they’d thought.
“What that means,” he continued, returning to the point, “is that you’re out armed. There’s no way you can fight them alone.”
Her frown deepening, Haley rose and walked to the window, her slender spine straight, her hips gently swinging in her low-slung jeans. He took in the glossy hair tumbling over her shoulders, the seductive curve of her back, trying to ignore the sensual tug. He understood her reluctance to hide, and he sympathized with her need to fight back. But she’d never fend off that gang, even without the E-13s. She had to go somewhere safe.
She turned around and sighed. “I know you’re worried, but I’m not completely defenseless. I’ve got some high-powered connections, too.”
Brynn swiveled around to face her, grimacing as she moved her arm. “You’re not serious.”
“Why not? They know everyone in Baltimore and D.C.”
Sully frowned. It was his turn to be confused. “Who does?”
“My parents. My father’s a criminal defense attorney. He represents a lot of gang members. He knows everyone—the police, people in the criminal justice system, politicians. And my mother knows even more people than he does. Her ancestors helped found this town. If the person behind this is that high-level, they’ll know him for sure.”
“Assuming they agree to help you,” Brynn said.
Haley crossed her arms, worry darkening her eyes. “I know. It’s a long shot. We didn’t exactly part on friendly terms. But it’s worth a try.”
Her friend didn’t look convinced. “I guess a phone call wouldn’t hurt.”
“No. I need to see them in person. Otherwise they’ll just hang up. There’s a fund-raiser tomorrow night for area shelters. I wasn’t going to go, but now...” She shrugged. “It’s at Hunter Hall in Virginia. All the bigwigs will be out in force.”
“I heard about that,” Parker said. “The police commissioner’s going to attend.”
Sully’s frown deepened. The uneasy feeling inside him grew. “Wait a minute. You said the guy who’s after you has power. What if he’s there?”
“Then I can draw him out.”
The hell she would. Outraged, he rose and limped to her side. “Are you crazy? You can’t take a risk like that. You saw that text message. You can’t just walk around in the open with a bounty on your head.”
“So I’ll take a bodyguard along.”
He still didn’t like it. He glowered back, his protective instincts raging, needing to force her to listen to sense. But he didn’t have that right. And neither did he want it. This woman meant nothing to him.
Then Parker spoke up from across the room. “I can get a cop to go with you. I know a few who moonlight as bodyguards.”
Sully shot him a look of disbelief. “You can’t be serious. She needs to hide, not appear in public, risking her life.”
But Haley broke in. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t use the police. The killer could recognize a cop. I need someone less obvious. Someone I can pass off as my date.” Her gaze returned to his.
Realization sank in. He took a quick step back. “Forget it.”
“Why not? You obviously know how to shoot. And you’re in this as much as I am. That gang’s after you now, too.”
He didn’t care about himself. He should have died months ago. But Haley needed protection—protection he couldn’t provide.
“I can’t.” He had a bum leg. He suffered from chronic flashbacks. Hell, he was so messed up he could barely function without a drink, let alone safeguard her. And his intuition was off. The last time he’d relied on his instincts, he’d screwed up—and his men had paid the price.
“He’s right,” the cop told her. “No offense to Sully, but you need a pro, someone who can keep his eye out for trouble in a place like that.”
Someone who could stay sober, he meant.
Sully worked his jaw, suspecting his bloodshot eyes had given him away—or the way he’d guzzled the beer Parker had offered him when they’d first arrived. But even if it humiliated him to admit it, Parker was right. Haley didn’t need a ruined man like him for her bodyguard.
But she only raised her chin. “I don’t want anyone else.”
“Too bad. I’m not going to do it.”
Her eyes held his. The air between them pulsed. But then she glanced at her friends again. “Would you mind giving us a moment alone?”
“Sure. We’ll be in the kitchen.” Brynn struggled to her feet. Her fiancé helped her up, and they exited the room.
Sully folded his arms, steeling himself for the argument he knew would come. He didn’t have long to wait.
“Listen, Sully. I don’t blame you for not wanting to get involved in this.”
“I can’t.”
She gave him a nod. “I understand.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t know anything about me.”
She tilted her head, her dark-lashed eyes on his. “I know some things. You saved my life today. You rescued the girls. If you hadn’t been there we’d all be dead.”
“I got lucky, that’s all.”
“It was a lot more than luck, and you know it.”
“No, it wasn’t. Don’t twist this around. And don’t make me into something I’m not. Your friends are right. They know I can’t protect you. You need to listen to them.”
Her eyes went soft. She moved even closer, her nearness muddling his thoughts. “They’re wrong. You’re wrong. But if you don’t want to do it, I understand.”
“Then you’ll do what they say? You’ll go to a safe house?”
“No. Not yet. I can’t,” she added when he hissed. “I have to try to get answers. If my parents won’t talk, if I don’t learn anything at the fund-raiser, then I’ll reconsider my plan. But I have to give it a shot.”
Frustrated, he gripped the back of his neck. He was starting to realize how she’d survived the streets—she was too damned stubborn to quit. “Then at least take a cop as your bodyguard.”
“No. It’s either you or no one. I won’t change my mind about that. I can’t. I’ll never figure out who’s involved if I tip him off.”
His jaw clenched. Dread mingled with desperation at the thought of her taking on the killer alone. “That’s not fair.”
A sad smile curved her lips. “Don’t worry, Sully. I don’t blame you for not wanting to do this. I’ve already involved you enough.”
Suddenly feeling cornered, Sully turned to the window and scowled out at the city lights. She’d just given him an out. He should leave right now while he still could. But he couldn’t let her go to that fund-raiser alone. He’d never forgive himself if she got killed.
But how could he protect her? He was the worst possible man for the job. He swung around to face her again. “For God’s sakes, Haley. Why can’t you understand this? I’m not the man you need.”
“But you’re the one I want.”
His hopes plummeted hard. He gazed into her hazel eyes, her gentle beauty swamping his heart. He was all wrong for this mission. He knew it. She knew it. Even her friends knew it.
But it was the resignation in her eyes that demolished his resolve. She spent her life helping others, yet expected nothing in return.
Feeling doomed, he released a sigh. “All right.”
“You’ll do it?”
“Yeah. I’ll do it.” He just hoped he didn’t screw up.
Or he’d have this woman’s innocent blood on his already-guilty hands.
Chapter 4
Despite what she’d told Sully, by the time they arrived at Hunter Hall, the eighteenth-century estate in the northern-Virginia countryside where the charity gala was being held, Haley’s bravado was fading fast. She stared out the passenger-side window of their borrowed car at the thousands of acres of dusky woodland rolling toward the Shenandoah River and struggled to contain her nerves.
She dreaded confronting her parents. She feared exposing her presence to the killer who wanted her dead. Every instinct she possessed warned her to run, take cover, hide. Instead, she was going public, revealing her identity, setting herself up as a target—and putting Sully’s life even more at risk.
But she had no choice. She couldn’t go on looking over her shoulder. She couldn’t keep fleeing the killer when he’d only find her again. And she couldn’t continue to jeopardize those teenage girls. Unless she brought him down now, she could never return to her shelter. She would lose everything she’d worked for—her dreams, her sense of security, her home.
Still, she never should have involved Sully. She should have kept him far from the gang trying to murder her instead of coercing him to help. So what if he’d saved her life? She had no business endangering him further—no matter how badly she needed his support.
Battling back a flurry of anxiety, she cast him a glance, taking in the wide, muscled shoulders straining his tuxedo, the appealing contrast of his swarthy skin against his stark-white shirt. He’d combed his shaggy hair into submission and shaved the beard stubble from his face, revealing the hard planes of his cheeks and jaw. But somehow, his attempt to tame his appearance only emphasized the power of his features, making him look even more uncivilized.
He turned his head and his gaze connected with hers. And for one unguarded instant, that raw heat tangled between them, those whiskey-colored eyes wreaking havoc on her insides. Then he lowered his gaze, traveling over every inch of her, unleashing a frenzy of nerves in her chest.
She jerked her gaze to the windshield, her pulse on a wild stampede. She didn’t need this. It didn’t matter if he compelled her. It didn’t matter if he radiated an inner pain she found hard to resist. She couldn’t afford to let him distract her, no matter how much he stirred her blood. She had to track down the man trying to kill her—or they both would end up dead.
The long drive began to curve, the centuries-old oak trees and tulip poplars closing in on her like a gauntlet on either side. Then the mansion came into view, its huge white pillars spurring her pulse into another sprint. Sully stopped in front of the imposing entrance, and a teenage valet rushed over to open Haley’s door. She stepped out of the car, trying to attribute the chills skidding down her spine to the cold, autumn breeze instead of fear.
Sully joined her at the portico steps. “Some place.”
“It’s on the historic register.” The exquisitely restored mansion was the epitome of antebellum gentility with a huge central hall built of local limestone flanked by two-bay wings. Not exactly where she’d expect to confront a killer. But that’s why they were here.
A burst of laughter drew her attention to the side of the house. Stopping, she studied the people crowded around a sports car parked beneath a tent. “They always have a raffle at these events,” she explained. “People donate cruises, vacations, cars.”
Sully raised a brow. “Must be nice to have that much money to give away.”
“They don’t do it to be kind. Well, maybe a few of them do.” She had to be honest about that. “But for most of these people, money’s a means to an end—status, power. That’s how they measure your worth—by what you can do for them. And if you can’t help them get ahead, they discard you without a thought.”
Oh, God. Where had that tirade come from? Her face warmed as she realized how bitter she sounded, at how much of her past she’d disclosed. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Haley.” Closing the distance between them, he reached out and cupped her jaw. His touch was gentle, barely there, but his warm, calloused skin sent a blaze of heat rushing through her, both thrilling and steadying her somehow. “We don’t have to do this. We can leave right now.”
His husky words rumbled through her. His eyes and voice held her captive, anchoring her in place. And for a minute, she was so darned tempted to take the easy way out, to jump back in the car and leave before anyone noticed them here.
But she’d never forgive herself if she gave up. This killer was threatening her friends, her pregnant girls, the dreams she’d spent years working to make real. She had to stand and fight.
“No. I need to talk to my parents. But let’s make it fast, all right?”
He lowered his hand, a crooked smile warming his eyes. “A ‘shoot and scoot’ it is, then. A quick attack and then retreat,” he added when she gave him a quizzical look. “We’ll get the information we need and go.”
“That sounds good.” Especially the part about retreat. But she refused to run. She could handle her parents. She was older now. She had a satisfying life helping troubled teens. She didn’t need their approval, didn’t need them to validate her self-worth. And she wouldn’t let them shake her composure, no matter how nervous she felt.
Sully offered her his arm. “Ready?”
“As much as I’ll ever be.” Gripping his arm for courage, she turned to the entrance and accompanied him through the massive door.
But one glance at the crowd milling beneath the chandeliers—their diamond jewelry flashing, their forced laughter rising above the strains of the string quartet—made her want to bolt. She despised this world—power brokers making deals over old-fashioneds. Women plotting remarriages over caviar. Do-gooders who wouldn’t dream of getting their hands dirty, writing checks to absolve themselves of any real responsibility for fighting the evil plaguing the world.
But this wasn’t the time to indulge in a rant. And no matter where the money came from—or why—it went to a worthy cause, supporting shelters like hers.
Assuming she survived long enough to collect the check.
While Sully took care of her shawl, she headed to the reception table tucked discreetly to the side of the foyer. Exquisite millwork covered the walls, along with museum-quality portraits in huge gilt frames.
“Haley Barnes and Sullivan Turner,” she told one of the women manning the desk. “From Always Home Teen Shelter in D.C.” The woman consulted her list, then murmured to the worker beside her. “I was late sending in my RSVP,” she added, waiting while they shuffled through the names.
“Haley!”
Her heart lurching, she whipped around. A middle-aged man strode toward her with his hand outstretched. Senator Alfred Riggs. In his early sixties now, he looked stockier and grayer than when she’d seen him last. But he still had that aura of power that commanded respect, even in this moneyed crowd.
“It’s great to see you.” He sounded surprisingly genuine as he shook her hand. But then, he was a consummate politician, one of his party’s rising stars. Rumor had it he was contemplating a run for the White House should the current vice president decide to retire.
Years of debutante training kicked in. She glued a smile on her face. “It’s wonderful to be here, especially for such a worthy cause.” Thanks to his own troubled childhood, the senator worked tirelessly on behalf of at-risk youth—which also endeared him to the voters, paying off at the ballot box.
“Thank you for hosting this gala,” she added. “I appreciate the donation to my shelter.”
“I didn’t realize you worked in this field.”
“Yes, I—” Sully came up beside her. Grateful for the interruption, she turned his way. “Senator Riggs, I’d like you to meet my escort, Sullivan Turner.”
The senator’s eyes turned speculative as he shook Sully’s hand. “Have we met before? Your name sounds familiar.”
“I doubt it.”
Haley jumped into the breach. “Senator Riggs went to law school with my father.”
The senator smiled. “That’s right. And I had the pleasure of watching this lovely young woman grow up.” He waved at someone in the crowd. “Here comes someone else you know. We’ll catch up later,” he promised, then strode away.
Haley peered over Sully’s shoulder, experiencing an unexpected burst of pleasure as a woman in her early forties approached. “Gwendolyn Shaffer,” she murmured to Sully. “The senator’s chief of staff.” One of the few genuinely nice people she knew.
“Haley.” The woman gave her a kiss. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” she added after Haley had introduced Sully.
“I run a shelter in D.C. now. But I’m afraid I accepted the invitation at the last moment. They can’t find us on the list.” She motioned toward the women still rifling through pages of names.
“Latecomers are on the addendum,” the chief of staff told them, and Haley smiled. Gwen had always been a “fixer,” one of those competent, take-charge people everyone relied on to get things done. Apparently, that hadn’t changed.
But her appearance had. Never slender, her hips had grown broader, her waist thicker over the years. Gray hairs now streaked her classic bob. But she still had that brisk, efficient attitude that had been her hallmark, propelling her formidable career.
And if anyone deserved success, it was Gwendolyn Shaffer. She’d helped make Haley’s teen years tolerable, offering sympathy and support, especially after her sister’s death.
