Читать книгу Bodyguard With A Badge - Elizabeth Heiter - Страница 12

Chapter Four

“I need the truth.”

Juliette bristled. “I’m not lying to you.”

“How’d you learn to snatch a weapon off a law enforcement official?” Andre demanded, resting his forearms on his thighs, making all the muscles in his arms tense and reminding her that he wasn’t just strong.

He was also fast.

Juliette scooted to the edge of the chair, in case she needed to make a quick getaway. What had she been thinking, coming here? She glanced at the doorway, gauging the distance.

“Too far,” Andre said.

“What?” Panic hitched her voice.

“You’re thinking of making a run for it. I’m telling you that you won’t make it.”

She put her hand on the gun in her pocket, her heart thudding frantically. What if Andre had given his partner some kind of code word in their conversation? Something to let him know to send the cavalry? If they believed Dylan instead of her...

“I’m trying to help you here,” Andre said, his soft voice laced with frustration. “We just determined these thugs were supposed to kill you.”

She cringed, even though it wasn’t news at all. She’d known the second she’d spotted them holding her picture that Dylan had decided to kill her. That it didn’t matter those years they’d spent dating, falling in love. That it didn’t matter they’d pledged their lives to each other.

“Do you really think it’s your best move to run, alone?” Andre interrupted her angry thoughts. “We can protect you.”

“Against someone else in law enforcement?” Juliette snapped. “I’ve tried before. Who is anyone going to believe, me or another cop?”

He stared directly into her eyes, intense and sincere. “I believe you.”

She stamped down the hope she felt at his words and tried to be logical. “Why?”

“You work in this job long enough and you learn. All the training, all the practice, can only take you so far. At a certain point, you just have to go with your gut. And my gut is telling me you’re innocent.” His gaze went to the gun and then back to her face. “Relatively innocent.”

A smile twitched her lips with a sudden, ridiculous urge to laugh at the predicament she’d gotten herself into. She’d never so much as gotten a parking ticket her whole life, and in one day she’d stolen a gun off one federal agent and taken another one hostage. The truth was, they had more on her than anyone had ever gotten on her ex-husband. The smile faded.

“Just level with me, Juliette,” Andre said, his deep brown eyes imploring, almost hypnotizing in their intensity.

A shiver worked its way up her body that had nothing to do with fear and she suppressed it. Letting her attraction for this man lull her into trusting him was a bad idea. No matter whether or not he believed her story, he was still a federal agent. It was still his job to make sure she answered questions about what had happened today, and after her actions over the past hour, the FBI would probably expect her to do it in handcuffs.

Besides, she’d done the whole falling hard for a man with a badge thing before, and it hadn’t worked out too well for her then. She doubted things would go better a second time.

“I told you the truth. Okay, so I said he wanted to kidnap me, and I guess that was wishful thinking. I suppose I knew it. Dylan wants me dead. I’ve been running for years, and now he’s found me. And you can believe if he—or one of his hired goons—catches up to me again, he won’t make the same mistake.”

“You saw something you shouldn’t have seen,” he repeated her words from earlier. “What was it?”

Juliette heaved out a sigh. “Not enough.”

“What does that mean?”

She’d come this far. The man had brought her to his house. He was the first person in years she’d dared to tell even this much. Might as well go for broke.

“My ex was a cop—is a cop. I actually met him when he pulled me over for a broken taillight. He let me go with a warning, but when I ran into him a few weeks later at a club, he asked me out.”

At the time, she’d thought it was some kind of fate, telling her to give Dylan a chance. Later, she’d learned that he’d run her plates, gotten her name and pulled her up on social media. Someone had tagged her at that club, and he’d gone there, specifically intending to bump into her. When he’d finally told her the truth on their honeymoon, she’d been flattered. Now she wondered if it had been a warning sign she’d been too infatuated to see.

“What’s his name?” Andre asked tightly.

“Dylan. Dylan Keane.”

“From Pennsylvania?”

“That’s right. But if you’re planning to dig up his file, don’t bother. He’s got a perfect record at the department. He actually got a commendation from the mayor right after we were married. No one will ever believe he’s dirty.”

“That’s what this is about?” Andre pressed. “That’s what you saw? Something to do with his work?”

“Yeah. Have you ever heard of Kent Manning?”

Andre’s eyes narrowed and his head tilted back, as though he was trying to remember where he’d heard the name.

“The businessman who was killed,” she prompted.

“That’s right. He was a multimillionaire, if I’m remembering correctly. They found him tossed in the lake in some small town in...”

She could tell the instant he realized. “Right. A small town in Pennsylvania. My small town in Pennsylvania.”

“But they caught the guy who killed him. He’s serving a life sentence, isn’t he?”

“He is. Chester Loews was Manning’s direct competitor. With Manning out of the picture, Loews’s company was poised to become the biggest logging supplier in the state.”

“All right. That’s a logical motive for murder. What does all of this have to do with your husband?”

“Ex-husband.”

“Sorry.” Andre gave her a half smile that made a dimple pop in his left cheek. “Believe me, I didn’t forget that part.”

Juliette swallowed, her mouth dry, and wondered what the heck that meant. Was it because he was interested in her?

Get it together, she reminded herself. “Anyway,” she continued, hoping she wasn’t flushed beet red, “what I overheard was my husband meeting with Boyd Harkin. He was Manning’s second-in-command, and when Manning was murdered, Harkin took over the company. He was originally a suspect, too, but the evidence against Loews was so overwhelming, it was a slam dunk. Case closed.”

“But you think Harkin actually killed Manning?” Andre guessed. “You think Loews was framed?”

“I think they were working together and only Loews got caught.”

Andre frowned. “If that’s the case, then why wouldn’t Loews turn on Harkin? Share the prison sentence?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” He was clearly trying hard to be patient. “Why do you think they were working together?”

“My ex-husband and his partner were working the Manning murder case, and I saw Harkin hand my ex-husband a bag.” She’d come home early, unexpected, from her studio because she’d been sick. Harkin had been standing in her kitchen, a big hulk of a man who looked unnatural in a business suit. He’d handed over a brown paper bag, as though he was playing a part in a movie. “Dylan told Harkin he’d keep him out of it, but there was nothing he could do for Loews now.”

“Those were his exact words?” Andre asked.

“Yeah. I thought Dylan was getting the bag to make sure any evidence against Harkin found during the murder investigation would disappear.”

From the way Andre was nodding, he agreed. “And you think that bag contained a payoff?”

“I know it did. I found it later, stashed up in our closet. Dylan thought I didn’t know he hid things there, but I’d seen him do it before.”

“You’d seen him take money before?”

“No.” She gave a sad smile, because not all of her memories of Dylan were bad. She’d loved him once, enough to marry him. “Presents he’d bought me.”

Andre nodded, understanding on his face. “So, what made you run? Did Dylan know you’d spotted him and Harkin?”

“No. They were so busy talking, they never heard me come in.”

“Did he notice the money was moved? What?”

“No. Worse.”

“You confronted him.”

It wasn’t a question, but Juliette answered anyway. “Yes. At first I was sure Dylan would turn him in, but every few days I’d check, and the money was still there. So finally I asked him. I thought for sure he’d tell me there was an undercover operation happening, that they were going to arrest Harkin any day now.”

The memory burst forward in her mind, the moment she’d replayed so many times in the past three years. At first, she’d wished she could take it back, that she’d never seen Dylan accept the money, that she could just stay ignorant. Then, she’d wished to take back different moments, like the instant she’d said yes to his marriage proposal, practically before he could get the question out. Even the more hesitant yes when he’d first asked her out.

“He came home late because he’d been working a big case, but all excited about some cabin one of his buddies was going to lend him for the weekend. He wanted us to go away, just the two of us. Then I told him what I’d seen, and I knew the second I did it that our marriage was over.”

Sadness and pity and some other emotion she couldn’t quite pinpoint flashed across Andre’s face, and she got back to what mattered now. “He told me I needed to forget I’d ever heard that conversation.”

A tremor went through her, recalling the fury in Dylan’s voice, the hard glint she’d never seen before in his eyes. “He said if I ever told anyone, I was signing my own death warrant.”

* * *

ANDRE FOUGHT HARD to keep his expression neutral, not to let Juliette see how badly he wanted to smash her ex’s face in with his fist right now. He was pretty sure he was failing miserably.

She gave him a shaky smile. “This is why I was trying to run. I can’t have my name connected to any kind of investigation or he’ll find me.”

“You do know there’s not some kind of law enforcement bulletin that goes out with everyone’s active cases, right?” Andre joked.

“Yeah, well, when the hostage situation hits the news—if it hasn’t already—he’ll know I’m here. The first thing he’ll do is contact the FBI.”

“I doubt it. That’d be pretty suspicious.”

She snorted. It should have been ugly, but somehow it was cute. “Trust me, he’ll come up with a story everyone will believe. He’s done it before.”

“What do you mean?” Andre asked, remembering her comment that she’d tried to get help in the past, and no one had believed her. “You tried to report him, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” She sighed and sank back into the chair, her head dropping back and her hands going limp at her sides.

It would be easy to jump up and snatch the gun off her lap now, but he didn’t. He just waited for her to start talking.

“Stupidly, I went to my local department, where he worked.”

“That’s not stupid. It’s logical,” Andre said, even though she probably should have gone to the FBI.

“Maybe it would have made a difference if I’d done it that night, instead of waiting to see if I’d misunderstood. But by the time I finally got the courage to turn him in, he’d already set the groundwork. They were expecting me. He’d told the chief that I’d...” She flushed, her voice getting quieter as she finished, “That I’d had a miscarriage and was suffering from severe depression.”

“Did you?” Andre asked quietly, not even realizing that he’d reached out to take her hand until she lifted her head and looked at it, perplexed.

But she didn’t pull hers away. She just shook her head and continued, “No. But he said the doctor had put me on medication and I was having delusions that everyone was out to get me.”

“And they bought it?” Andre asked with disbelief. “Even when you told them specifics about the money?”

“I never got that far. I tried to talk about Dylan meeting with Harkin, but they just patted me on my head and sent me home. The chief literally patted my head, as if I was a child. And when I got home that night...” She trailed off, as a shiver visibly went through her. “Anyway, that was when I knew I had to run. And I’ve been running ever since.”

“Three years,” Andre said, doing the math from the time he remembered seeing Manning’s death in the news.

“Yeah. Twice before, he’s caught up to me, but I managed to keep running, start over yet again. I thought this time I’d finally gotten away. I should have known better. I’m never going to be free of this.”

“Everything is different now,” Andre promised her.

“How?”

“This time, you’ve got help.” Andre squeezed her hand. “We’re going to nail him to the wall for this.”

He could see hope spark in her eyes, but just as quickly, she seemed to push it down. She carefully pulled her hand free and twisted it nervously in her lap. “How? All we have is the word of two criminals who don’t even know who hired them. And me. A woman using an assumed name who’s probably got a warrant out for her arrest now, too.”

Andre’s mind warred with what to ask next—how she’d managed to get that gun off Nadia in order to earn that possible warrant or what her real name was. He should ask about the gun, since knowing her ex’s name meant he could track hers down. But somehow, the question that came out of his mouth was, “What’s your real name? It’s Mya, isn’t it?”

Her nose crinkled. “Technically, yeah. But Juliette’s my middle name. I’ve gone by Juliette most of my life.”

“Kind of a strange choice for a fake name, then,” Andre commented.

“Yeah, probably, but I’m sure Dylan expected me to use Mya and a different last name.” He must have looked confused, because she added, “He called me Mya. He was the only one who did when we met, and we were only married for a year, but over the time we knew each other, my social circle just kept shrinking, and somehow I ended up in his. So by the end, no one called me Juliette anymore.”

“Controlling,” Andre muttered.

“It’s not what you think. He wasn’t cruel or abusive or anything, just...” She seemed to search for the right word, finally settling on manipulative.

Andre thought about arguing, because her relationship with her husband sure sounded abusive—maybe not physically but definitely psychologically. But the truth was, no matter the attraction he’d felt from the second he’d met her or how he wanted to help her now, her relationship with her ex wasn’t any of his business. So instead he just said, “You wanted to reclaim the name for yourself.”

“Exactly. I wasn’t Mya Moreau anymore or Mya Keane. I was Juliette Lawson. Lawson was my grandma’s maiden name.” She fidgeted. “I got some fake documents, just enough to get me by—a driver’s license and a social security number. I knew how from hearing Dylan talk about some of his cases. Anyway, my grandma and I were close when I was little, back in England. She was my rock, so that’s why I wanted to use her name. It wasn’t until after she died that my parents sent me away to boarding school here in the US.”

He made a face.

“They weren’t bad people. They just didn’t know what to do with a kid. The boarding school was them trying to provide for me in the best way they could.” She shrugged. “I always suspected it was because of my grandma that they didn’t do it sooner. I know I should have picked a totally random name, but I didn’t think...” She flushed and trailed off.

Still, he could guess what she was going to say. She didn’t think her husband paid enough attention to what she wanted or who she was to know her grandmother’s maiden name. But he was a cop; presumably, he knew how to chase a trail.

“None of that matters now,” Andre said. “What matters is we figure out how to turn the tables on him.” He tried to keep his tone even, but he could hear the aggression in his voice when he said, “It’s time for Dylan to be the one jumping at shadows.”

She stared back at him, shadows beneath her eyes and a weary slump to her shoulders. “How are we going to do that?”

“It’s time to call in reinforcements.”