Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Something was amiss. “When did you have time to search for the bandages?” He’d been downstairs after she’d cleaned up.

  “When you were showering.”

  She inwardly shivered knowing he’d been so close when she was naked and vulnerable. “Hold it. How did you get into the bedroom? The door was locked.” Her pulse raced.

  “There was a key above the door.”

  “Slick.” The man had an answer for everything.

  “It’s not when your safety is my sole concern.” From the soft tone of his voice and his relaxed stance, she almost believed him, but not quite.

  She pressed her lips together and snatched the bandages to her chest. Heart still in overdrive, she hurried across the room and pulled back the door. “Please leave.” She still wasn’t convinced his relationship with Peter Caravello was on the up and up.

  “Look. We got off on the wrong foot. I’m here to protect you, not hurt you. What more can I say?”

  He stepped forward and ran a hand down her uninjured arm. Her traitorous body reacted, nearly wetting her panties. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push his image from her mind. She failed.

  “Say nothing.” His pinched brow and tight mouth sent a quick shot of remorse up her belly, but she refused to let her emotions override logic.

  The second his butt crossed the threshold, she slammed the door and locked it—not that it would do much good if he had a key.

  Wait.

  She dragged the desk chair under the doorknob and wedged it tight, a trick that seemed to work on TV. At least it would provide her with some sense of security.

  With her ear to the door, she waited until the sound of his footsteps faded and the television switched on. She breathed a sigh of relief, hoping he’d stay downstairs for good.

  With a light tremor in her hands, she reapplied her bandages, thankful her clothes would no longer rub against her nearly healed skin. She purposefully didn’t wrap her injured hands as she needed full mobility if she planned to escape tonight.

  The clock read 4:00 p.m. Her body ached and her mind raced. With only a few hours before dinner, a short nap seemed a good option. The rest would help her regroup, think, plan.

  She must have been more exhausted than she realized, for she fell into a deep sleep until a loud knock jerked her awake.

  “Dinner is ready.”

  Stone again. She wet her lips and sat up on the bed, her mind going full speed. “I’m good. I’m not really hungry.” She hoped he’d buy her story.

  “Ms. Chapman, you have to eat.”

  If he forgot to call her Ms. Daniels, how was she to remember? Maybe he was convinced she wouldn’t be here long. “Please call me Susan. Or Taylor.” If he felt a connection to her, he might be less likely to harm her.

  “All right. Taylor, you should eat something to keep up your strength.”

  “I’m really not hungry. My pain meds took away my appetite.” Not true, but lack of appetite was one possible side effect according to her prescription bottle. “I’m going to hit the hay early. I’ll see you in the morning.” She crossed her fingers in front of her for good luck, something her father used to do.

  He didn’t respond, but the loud pounding of his feet on the stairs as he went back to the living room told her he wasn’t happy. Tough.

  She raced to the window that overlooked the backyard and studied the cement patio below. No way could she jump the ten feet and not injure herself, especially with the metal chairs and glass-top table directly below.

  Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored the discomfort. Being hungry was better than being with the traitor Stone Watson. She was sure once she explained her situation to someone at the nearby FBI office they’d provide her with a different bodyguard.

  While she waited for nightfall, she packed a few of her belongings. She left most of the case empty to fill with food. Being on the run would take all of her strength, and the twenty dollar bill Stone had given her would only take her so far.

  Tonight, when he was in bed, she’d slip out. She would run right now if she thought she’d get past him, but the downstairs was basically one large room, and he was in the living room. No chance to casually slip out without him noticing.

  She wasn’t sure how far she’d get when she did escape, but any destination would be better than being locked in with a man in cahoots with a killer. For all she knew, he’d already invited Peter Caravello to their town house. Too bad she didn’t think to eavesdrop on their conversation this afternoon. He’d been smart to step outside. What did that tell her? Clearly, Stone was hiding something.

  A muffled voice floated through her door shortly after she settled into bed. Her muscles tightened. Was Caravello downstairs? She got up and placed her ear to the wood-paneled door. The tone didn’t sound like it came from the television. Wait. That was Stone’s voice. He was probably on the phone. To his boss? Or to the killer? She moved the chair and peeled open the door, straining to hear the conversation. Damn. He must have hung up.

  As she eased the door close, a shiver raced up her spine. There would be no sleeping tonight since she had no idea what he planned for her. She repositioned the chair under the knob and returned to the bed to wait. Her only entertainment entailed watching the numbers change on the alarm clock.

  Around midnight, she heard Stone’s door down the hall open and close. At two, she decided he must be asleep. She removed her door block and snuck into the hallway. The pressure of the suitcase handle bit into her injured fingers, but she didn’t care. Pain could be tolerated if it meant her freedom from this house, the killer, and Stone.

  Shoes off, she tiptoed down the stairs, stopping every time the step creaked. With her breath held, she inched her way to the bottom floor, constantly listening for Stone’s door to open.

  Once in the living room, she let out a breath and placed her suitcase on the kitchen island. The light from the full moon shining in the window provided sufficient illumination to get what she wanted—three apples, two oranges, the remaining four power bars, a few slices of bread, and two bottles of water.

  Next she slipped on her shoes. Stone had tossed the car keys on the counter when they’d come in. She patted the cool granite top in a slow manner, careful not to knock anything over. Her fingers touched the keys. Success. With care, she clenched them tight to keep the keys from rattling.

  With a last glance over her shoulder, she eased open the front door. The whoosh of cool air slammed the door backwards, causing the hinges to groan. She stilled, her heart beating way too rapidly. Don’t screw up now. She was so close. When Stone’s bedroom door didn’t burst open, she stepped outside and inhaled the sweet smell of the damp night.

  Moving as fast as she could down the stoop steps, she made for the car parked in the drive and tested the door handle in case Stone had left the vehicle unlocked.

  The latch lifted. Her adrenaline pumped with the thrill of victory. She wrenched open the door and the interior light clicked on.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Her heart stopped.

  Chapter Four

  Stone was torn. He wasn’t sure whether to gloat over the fact he’d guessed Susan’s next move, or feel bad he’d scared her enough to feel the need to run away. What kind of bodyguard did that make him?

  Susan’s mouth dropped open. “How did you…”

  He finished her sentence. “Know you’d try to escape? Simple. You think I’m the enemy. I’m not, but you can’t be sure. Any rational person would run away.”

  She stood bathed in the glow of the front porch light, shivering in a T-shirt and jeans. They might be in Florida, but the nights turned cold, especially in February. He could even see the peak of her nipples though her thin bra and forced his mind to a more serious topic. He angled out of the car and slipped off his jacket.

  As he came over to her side, she scrambled into the passenger’s side. He shook his head and would have laughed had the
situation not been serious. With one arm, he grabbed her from behind to pull her out. She tipped backwards and her rear snuggled against his cock. He failed to block the inappropriate lust.

  “Let go of me. You can’t keep me here.” She wiggled her butt right and left to get out of his grasp and swatted her hands behind her. Now he was hard.

  He held on tight until she settled down. “Yes, I can. It’s my FBI prime directive. Keep witnesses safe at all cost.” He let go and placed the jacket over her shoulders.

  She stepped back. “That’s rich.” The crisp breeze blew her hair back, and the moonlight cast a shadow on her pretty face.

  He moved in to lecture her, his face inches from her. His breath caught and his cock throbbed again. This woman turned his resolve to keep his distance into sand.

  Straightening, he tightened his grip. What had he been thinking? Lecture, hell. He’d almost kissed her. That was the problem.

  She ripped free of his grasp. “Keep away from me.”

  He wanted to tell her she could relax, but only time would convince her he wasn’t the bad guy here. He moved back and held up his hands. “I imagine someone would be overjoyed if you had left my protection. You’re still weak and vulnerable. Any smart criminal could snatch you in a heartbeat if you went off on your own.”

  “I am not weak, but thank you for your concern.” She tightened her grip on his jacket, and he soaked in the irony of her cuddling in the perceived enemy’s clothes.

  “Please don’t forget someone out there doesn’t have your best interest at heart.” He picked up her dropped suitcase just as a light turned on across the street in the second floor window. His body shot to alert. “I think we’re being watched.” He nodded toward the building.

  She cast a glance at the town house. “Do you think they know who I am?”

  “I can’t imagine how they could, but if you continue to make a scene, they might call the cops, and we don’t need the notoriety.” The light in the apartment clicked off.

  “I wasn’t making that much noise.” She moved past him into the house and slammed the door behind her.

  So much for keeping quiet. He liked her fiery attitude. She claimed she wanted to work together, but her words didn’t match her actions. If only he could get her to cooperate, they might have a chance at avoiding the killer.

  Then again, sometimes a challenge spiced up life a bit.

  He waited to see if the neighbors would come out to investigate. When they didn’t, he went inside. After sitting in the front seat for three hours, his stiff muscles appreciated the warmth. He expected Susan to be upstairs with her door barred and locked. Instead, she was at the refrigerator scrounging through the items on the shelf.

  Her frantic movements stirred his sympathy. “There’s leftover pepperoni pizza in the blue container if you’re hungry.” The “meds take away my appetite” claim was apparently false. He’d have to remember the saucy lady was a convincing liar.

  She whipped around. “You ordered pizza? I love pepperoni.” She nodded toward the suitcase. “I took only boring food.”

  He swallowed his smile. “Boring food?”

  “Yeah, like apples and stuff. In the suitcase.”

  At least she had the sense to escape with resources. “Well, the place only had the frozen kind. Plain.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m starving.”

  She pulled the container from the fridge and shoved two slices in the microwave while he unpacked her food rations.

  His cell vibrated and his heart plunged. Susan spun around, her brows pinched.

  “Jesus.” It was two thirty in the morning. He flipped open the cover and relaxed. It was only Tom. “Don’t you ever sleep?” Tom Traynor, or T-Squared for short, had been his college roommate for all four years at Virginia Tech and was the current FBI computer guru.

  “I’m on the night shift this week. Guess what?”

  He respected Tom, but his best friend drove him crazy with his guessing games. “What?”

  “Peter Caravello was just brought into custody.”

  He glanced at Susan and held up a finger as she took a step toward him. Tom’s boisterous voice carried, and his friend’s information was not the news he wanted her to hear. He turned his back to her to prevent her from reading the disappointment on his face. The Bureau would be recording every call into and out of the FBI office. “That’s good news, right?”

  “Sure is. Say, if you need to get a hold of me, call me at Joe’s Bar.”

  Code for: call me on my secure line. “Will do. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Get some sleep.”

  He would if people would stop calling him, and if witnesses would stay where they belonged.

  He tucked his phone in his hip pocket and answered her unspoken question. “Peter Caravello was arrested tonight.”

  Her eyes widened. “Does that mean I can go home?”

  “Not yet.” He rested a hip on the stool. “Like I told you. Peter’s not our man.”

  “So you say.” She wiped her mouth with a paper towel and tossed the refuse in the trash, her movements more peppy. “Now that the world is a safer place, I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

  “I’m right behind you.” When they reached the top of the stairs, she slipped into her room, and he followed right behind.

  She spun around. “You can’t come in here!”

  So much for her short-lived excitement over Peter’s capture. He laughed at her indignation. “Go change.” He placed her near-empty case next to the bed.

  Her jaw dropped. “I will as soon as you leave.” She unclenched her hands grasping his jacket, and jerked his coat off her shoulders. She winced. “Is this what you want?”

  “No.” He took the jacket from her outstretched hand, even though he didn’t care about getting it back. “How do I know you won’t try to escape again? I need my beauty sleep and can’t sit outside your door all night.”

  Her mouth opened then snapped shut. “You have my word. Now that Caravello is in jail, I have nothing to fear.”

  Her glance to the side and trembling lips convinced him she was lying. Again. “Suit yourself.”

  Stone draped the leather jacket over his shoulder and stepped toward her. She retreated until the backs of her legs hit the bed and fell back. Susan grabbed a big pillow and clutched it to her chest, scooting back as he neared.

  He knelt on the bed and straddled her, concentrating on the job at hand and not on the attractive woman beneath him. Didn’t work. His cock stood at attention.

  “What are you doing?” Her breaths came out fast.

  His gut clenched at the fear in her tone. “Keeping you safe.”

  His mind lapsed the moment her mouth opened, and the tip of her tongue peeked out and caressed her lips. His pulse zipped into overdrive, shocked at the base urge to taste her mouth.

  “Get off me.” She reached up to punch his chest.

  Before she made contact, he caught her wrist using the least amount of force as possible. She gasped and he let go. “Look, I’m sorry to have to do this, but I can’t chance you’ll do something stupid again.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He whipped out his cuffs from his back pocket, slapped one half on the uninjured wrist and clamped the other end to the metal bed. “This. At least one of us will get a good night’s sleep.” He headed out the door.

  “You can’t do this to me,” she yelled, as he made his way to his room.

  “I just did.”

  * * * *

  Stone woke up rather refreshed considering he’d spent three hours in the front seat of the car waiting for his escapee and another two hours tossing in bed. Pleased he’d kept her safe for the night, he showered, shaved, and dressed while ignoring the death threats coming from the room next door. Shakespeare’s play, Taming of the Shrew, kept popping in his head every time she tossed some invective at him. He never liked confining someone, but in Susan’s case, it was for he
r own good. Thank goodness, she only yelled for a few minutes last night before exhaustion must have taken over, and she quieted.

  If she had succeeded in sneaking out, he’d be looking for a new line of work. And if she’d been harmed on her foray to freedom, he’d never been able to live with himself.

  Not to worry. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight again.

  Keeping an eye on her did come with one side effect. If she was by his side every hour of the day, he might weaken and kiss her or have his way with her, something forbidden in his line of work. He’d never swayed before, never been tempted, but something about the way she fought to stay alive turned him on. She’d been willing to sacrifice her well-being for her family’s safety. No one he’d ever known had ever put others first like that.

  He popped into her bedroom. “Good morning, sunshine.” His cheer this morning was due to the fact he avoided catastrophe last night. He also enjoyed sparring with her.

  She narrowed her eyes. “When I get out of here, I’m going to bring you up on charges for holding me hostage.”

  He smiled. “The Bureau gives me authority to confine you if need be. I was only thinking of your own good.”

  She rattled the cuffs. “Bullshit. Now get me out of these chains.”

  “Such a mouth for an important District Attorney. Do you talk that way in court?”

  She actually snarled at him. “Never.”

  It took all of his control not to laugh. While he enjoyed the banter, he retrieved the key and freed her.

  She rubbed her sore wrists. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”

  He’d forgotten about her need to go. When he’d served in Iraq before joining the FBI, he could hold it for days if need be. “I’ll have breakfast on the table when you come down.”

  He backed up, half expecting her to throw something at him. She didn’t. Instead she raced to the bathroom and slammed shut the door. Remorse welled inside him, and he stepped to the closed door. “I didn’t have a choice but to chain you, you know.”

  “Go to hell.”