Читать книгу Her Bodyguard - Mallory Kane - Страница 7

At least the Business Ethics exam was over. Who knew if she’d passed or not? When she’d turned it in a half hour ago she’d felt pretty confident, but now her brain was racing, questioning every single answer.

Angela hurried along the sidewalk, hoping to beat the rain. Usually she enjoyed the two-block walk from the streetcar stop to her apartment on Chartres Street. She liked to stop at the market for vegetables or fruit, French bread, a DVD from Sal’s private collection of classic movies and maybe a chocolate truffle.

But today was different. The air was heavy with humidity, she hadn’t slept the night before and there was a man behind her following way too closely.

She’d felt funny on the streetcar, like someone was watching her, but she’d chalked it up to nervousness about the exam and the paranoia that had been growing inside her over the past several days.

She should have stopped in at Sal’s, where she’d be surrounded by people in case the man really was following her. She wasn’t really sure why she hadn’t. For some reason, at the last second, she’d decided she’d rather be home, inside her apartment with the doors locked.

Stupid.

A few drops of rain penetrated her thin shirt, so she sped up. To her alarm, the footsteps behind her sped up, too. And was it her imagination, or could she hear the man’s harsh breaths in her ear, sawing in and out—in and out?

She wanted to turn her head and look back, but if he was following her, she didn’t want to look into his eyes.

When had she become such a wimp?

Before yesterday, she’d have stopped and whirled, eyeing him with a pugnacious stare until he walked on past her or crossed the street. She might be afraid, but she’d never let him know it.

Today, however, everything was different.

Today terror clawed its way up her throat, like it had when she was a child and a nightmare would wake her. She swallowed hard and gripped her umbrella like a weapon.

“Angela, hi!”

She almost tripped.

It was her downstairs neighbor, Billy Laverne, walking his Afghan hound toward her, or, more accurately, being walked by the gigantic dog.

“Hi, Billy.” The wash of relief that coursed through her ticked her off. Since when did Billy, whose head barely reached her eyebrows, who weighed less than she did and who definitely had a better manicure, represent safety to her?

“So,” he drawled. “Tell me. How’re the exams going? I’m sure you’re doing fabulously.”

She reached out a hand to pet Alfie. The friendly dog licked her knuckles. “I hope you’re right. Can I ask you something?”

She half turned, but when she did, the only person close to her was turning to head across the street. All she saw was the back of a loud Hawaiian print bowling shirt and a blue baseball cap. She couldn’t tell anything about the man except that he was not much taller than her five feet seven inches.

“Honey, you can ask me anything.”

She kept her hand on Alfie’s head. “Do you know that guy?” She gestured toward the retreating back of the man in the Hawaiian shirt.

Billy shook his head. “Heavens no. That is a nasty excuse for a shirt. Why?”

She laughed weakly. “It’s nothing. For a few minutes I thought he was following me. So, did Bouvier send someone to work on your electricity last week?”

“Yeah. My stove went out—again.”

“Was it the greasy guy with the shaved head?”

Billy nodded and shuddered. “Ugh. And the baggy work pants? Yes.”

“Did he go anywhere else?”

“I don’t know. What’s wrong?”

Angela thought better of telling Billy what had happened. He could be dramatic. She didn’t want to cause a panic among the other residents of her building.

“Nothing,” she lied. “I needed him to look at my kitchen light.”

Alfie whined and pulled on his leash, jerking Billy’s arm. “Oops. Gotta go. Alfie’s got to have his afternoon constitutional.”

“See you later.” She liked having Billy as a neighbor. He was funny and sweet, and he made great jambalaya. But right now she wished he was eight inches taller and forty pounds heavier. Although she’d never admit it to anyone, she could use a knight in shining armor.

Oh please. Get over yourself. She no more needed a knight—shining armor or not—than she needed a second head. Either one of them would be too high-maintenance. All she needed was something to distract her from this damn paranoia. As soon as she was done with finals, she was going shopping for a deadbolt and a pair of opaque curtains.

And then it would be time for a trip to Chicago, to see her brother, Brad, his wife and her two adorable nieces. The thought of seeing the girls made her feel better immediately. She headed on toward her apartment, glancing back for one more glimpse of the man in the blue cap, but she didn’t see him anywhere.

Before she got her attention turned back to where she was walking, her foot caught and she nearly went head over heels. She steadied herself by grabbing the back of the wrought-iron chair that she’d tripped over.

The man sitting in it reached one hand for his mug and the other to help steady her. “Whoa there.”

Without letting go of her arm, he stood. “You okay? Sorry my chair got in your way.” He laughed. “I hate it when it does that.”

“Oh, no.”

“Crap,” he said at the same time.

It was Lucas Delancey. She glared at him. “You again. Your apartment is around here,” she said accusingly.

“It’s in the area, but you gotta admit, this place has the best café au lait on this side of the Quarter.” He cocked his right eyebrow. “Can I buy you a cup?”

“No!” She heard the harsh panic in her voice. She took a deep slow breath and tried again. “No, thank you,” she said evenly. “If I run into you one more time I’m going to be convinced I have another stalker.”

“You’ve got a stalker?” His gaze turned sharp as an emerald.

She winced. “No, I didn’t mean that. It was—” She shook her head. “It was a joke.”

He stared at her. “I don’t think so, Ange.”

There was that nickname again. The single syllable sent nostalgia surging through her. He’d always called her Ange, when he wasn’t calling her Brat.

“Well, you don’t know, do you?” she retorted, making a show of looking at her watch. “I’ve got to go.”

He caught her by her wrist. “Who is he?”

“Nobody you know. Anyhow, I was joking.”

“You’ve got my phone number. Call me if you need me.”

She looked down at his hand. It was big and well shaped, with long, strong fingers. It looked like a hand that could wield a mean sword. Like a knight in—

Stop it! she commanded herself and jerked away from his grasp. Lucas Delancey was a lot of things. Maybe to the people of his precinct in Dallas he was a knight in shining armor, but in her experience, he’d be better cast as the Artful Dodger.

Still, the idea of having someone like him on her side was tempting. It would be so easy to tell him about the odd occurrences of the past week or so. Her certainty that someone was going into her apartment when she wasn’t home. Her sense that someone was watching her, following her.

But seeing him twice in two days flung her back in time. To when she was sixteen and knew she’d die if she never got to kiss him. Her insides turned upside down at the memory of her hesitant naïve kiss and his bold, sensual response.

She’d never been kissed like that since.

“Ange?”

She blinked and realized she was staring at his mouth. What had he said?

Call me if you need me.

“I won’t need you,” she said coldly and headed in the direction of her apartment.

Behind her, he spoke. “Don’t be so sure about that, Ange.”

She stalked away, praying he wasn’t watching her. The idea of him checking out her butt was horribly embarrassing. After a dozen steps or so, she stopped and glanced back over her shoulder.

He was nowhere in sight.

Irritated with herself for looking back, she whirled—and ran into someone else.

“Hey, Angie. Careful.”

“Oh, no,” she muttered. Not Doug, too. She’d thought she’d finally convinced him she wasn’t interested in dating him. Apparently this was destined to be her week from hell. Exams, intruders, high school flames and creepy ex-boyfriends. What else could happen?

Doug’s arm snaked around her shoulders. “Steady. Are you okay?”

She pulled away from him as smoothly as she could, not quite able to suppress a shudder. “I’m fine, Doug. What are you doing here?”

“I had a delivery to make in this neighborhood, so I thought I’d run upstairs and see if you were okay. I’ve been worried. You haven’t answered your phone in the last several days.”

Angela cringed inwardly. No, she hadn’t, on purpose.

“I’m glad you’re okay. You’re certainly looking good.”

“Thanks. I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“Who was that guy you were talking to?” Doug’s words were casual, but his pale blue eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her.

“An old friend from high school.” She started to walk away but he caught her arm.

“Have dinner with me. I miss you.”

She stepped away, tugging her arm away from his grasp. “I’m sorry, Doug, but no. You need to stop calling me. I’m in the middle of final exams and—”

“After exams then.”

“No, that’s not what I meant—”

But he was walking away.

Angela practically ran the rest of the way to her apartment. She locked the door behind her.

“Finally!” she sighed. What a bizarre day. At least it was over now and she was back in her apartment.

Safe.

She tossed her things onto the couch.

And froze.

There, on the corner back cushion, was a smudge. A tiny smudge—hardly noticeable, even on the pale beige fabric. But it hadn’t been there last night or this morning.

Dread settled beneath her breastbone and tears prickled behind her eyes. “No,” she muttered. “Not safe.”

She frowned. Could it have been Doug? He had no reason to be in this neighborhood, except to check on her. He’d said he had a delivery in the area, but his office supply store was out in Metairie. She doubted he had many clients down here in the French Quarter.

Before she could decide whether to call the super or storm downstairs and bang on his door, her phone rang.

She looked at the caller ID, and the dread in her chest lifted. “Brad, hi—” Her voice gave out. She cleared her throat. “Calling to make sure I’m studying?” she asked, smiling.

Her brother didn’t call often. He was too overworked. And he never, ever called during the day.

“Studying? Oh. Your exams,” Brad said. “No, I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine,” she answered automatically, turning her back on the sofa. “You, on the other hand, sound a lot more distracted than usual. How’s Sue? And my two gorgeous nieces?”

“Good. They’re good. So how are you doing?”

She laughed. “You just asked me that. Somebody was talking about you the other day. Let’s see—oh, I know. Hank Percy. He’d heard your name on the national news—some case you were trying. He wanted to do a piece on you for the Chef Voleur Weekly Record. I’m supposed to ask you if you would talk to him.” She paused for dramatic effect. “So, ADA Harcourt, I guess you’ve finally hit the big time. You’re going to have a write-up in Hank Percy’s column.”

There was a pause, barely enough to notice. “I guess.”

“Brad? Is everything all right?” The sinking feeling came back. “Is Sue okay? The girls?”

He sighed. “Seriously, sis. Can’t I call and check on you without you getting paranoid?”

“Interesting choice of words,” she said wryly. “It’s been a weird day. But my last exam is Monday, and I’ll have a whole six weeks before summer classes start.”

Suddenly, she missed her brother. He and Sue and her nieces were her only family since their mother had died. “I was planning to fly up there for a long weekend this summer. Why don’t I come next week, or the week after?”

Another pause. Longer this time. “Now’s not a good time. That big case Hank Percy called you about has put me behind on several others, and—and the girls have a virus.”

Angela felt hurt. Brad was putting her off. She could hear it in his voice. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

She heard him take a breath. “Absolutely. It’s just hectic. Maybe in about a month. How about the Fourth of July?”

“Okay then. Now’s not really a good time for me, either. I’m probably going to sleep for a week after my last test on Monday. Why don’t you give me a call when things settle down—if they ever do?”

“I will. I promise. Things are just crazy right now. Listen, sis. Watch out for yourself. New Orleans can be dangerous.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m tough. See, when I was a kid, my brother and his best friend picked on me all the time. I had to learn to stand up for myself.”

Brad chuckled. “You are tough. There’s no denying that.”

“Speaking of your best friend, guess who I ran into today?”

There was nothing but silence on the other end of the phone.

“Brad? Are you there?”

“Yeah. What—you don’t mean Delancey, there in New Orleans?”

“Who else? How many best friends have you had?”

“So you saw Luke. I thought he was in Dallas.”

“Well, apparently he’s taking a vacation.” She frowned. “It’s funny. He didn’t ask about you.”

“Hang on a second,” Brad said.

She heard him talking to someone.

“Sis, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a meeting in two minutes. Good luck on the rest of your tests.”

“Love you,” she said, but Brad had already hung up.

She realized she was oddly close to tears.

“That was weird,” she whispered. As she swiped her fingers across her cheeks, her gaze lit on the smudge on her sofa.

Her fist tightened around her cell phone and she shivered.

“HOW IN THE HELL DID YOU let Angela see you? I thought you were good at this stuff.”

Lucas cringed at the fury in Brad’s voice. He’d seen Angela on her cell phone a few moments ago. She must have been talking to him.

“Hey, I’m a detective, not a cat burglar. I was bound to run into her sooner or later. I was grabbing a quick café au lait. Who knew she’d finish her exam in just over an hour? Isn’t that record time?”

“You should have known. Have you forgotten how smart she is? What did she do when she saw you?”

“What do you think she did? She got pissed off. Wanted to know what I was doing here. I told her I was taking some time off.” He sniffed. “The years haven’t mellowed her much.”

“So what now? You’re going to have to find me somebody to take your place.”

“Nobody’s taking my place. She just thinks it’s her bad luck that she ran into me. I could see it in her face. Nope. I’ve got cameras set up everywhere—the street in front of her apartment, her hallway and door and her living room and kitchen. Anybody even goes near her building, I’ll see them.”

He paused for a beat and then took a deep breath. “Somebody’s going into her apartment when she’s not there, Brad.”

“Oh, God. You’ve seen him? I knew it. It’s got to be Picone. He’s sent someone down there after her. A hit man.”

“Who? Who would he send?”

Brad grunted in frustration. “That’s the $64,000 question. Picone’s organization is a family business. He’s got four sons and two daughters. Word is Nikki Jr. is being groomed to take over someday. Milo and Paulo have been linked to several suspicious deaths. And the son-in-law, Harold, was convicted of manslaughter about six years ago. The younger daughter isn’t married. She’s in her twenties. I’ve heard she’s a technology whiz.”

Lucas filed the names away in his brain. “What about the fourth son?”

“Tony. The youngest boy. He’s totally clean, from all the information I’ve got. The police have a confidential informant who says he’s Mama’s baby, and not in the business.”

“So which one’s out of town?”

Brad laughed wryly. “I wish it were that easy. None of them have been seen for the last couple of days.”

“Have you got pictures?”

“I’ll have to get my secretary to check the newspaper archives. Why? Have you spotted someone hanging around?”

“Not really. There is this one forgettable type who seems to hang around the building a lot. He’s kind of dumpy and pale as a fish’s belly.”

“Doesn’t sound like any of the family I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe that’s the point. Forgettable is probably a job requirement for a hit man. I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“Think he’s the one getting into her apartment? Have you talked to the super?”

“Not yet. This guy’s never done anything that I’ve seen. He just hangs around like he’s waiting for somebody. But the next time the intruder goes into her apartment, I’ll be watching. And trust me, I’ll be all over him—”

“The next time?”

“Don’t worry, Brad. I’m going to get Ryker to talk to Chicago P.D. and maybe get a handle on who your big crime boss might have sent.”

“You can’t do that. I don’t want to broadcast that I’ve got a sister, much less where she is.”

“I said don’t worry. Look up the word discreet in the dictionary and you’ll find Ryker’s face.”

“Yeah, but Ryker’s so by-the-book. I’m afraid that’ll trump his discretion. He’ll be concerned with chain of command. And by the time he gets to someone who knows something, he’ll have spread the word about my sister all over the Chicago P.D. Besides, he’s in Chef Voleur, and that means even more links in the chain. Maybe Ethan could get one of the senior detectives in New Orleans to call up here, maybe talk to somebody he knows. Discreetly.”

“That’s not going to happen. My hot-headed younger brother isn’t happy with me right now. Ryker’ll handle it. He’s not such a stickler for chain of command these days.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. But do it today. That hit man’s on a deadline. I’m doing closing arguments on Monday. The case should go to the jury no later than Tuesday. I doubt it will take them a day to convict. Until then, Angela’s in danger.”

“Brad, you trust me, right? I’m on it. Nothing’s going to happen to Ange. Not on my watch.”

“Thanks, Luke. How are the accommodations?”

“Well, at least this place has a working toilet. I bought a portable refrigerator. Dawson found me a cot, and there’s a market three doors down.”

“Anything you need, just ask.”

“I could use an air conditioner, but other than that, I’m fine. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now than spying on Angela—okay wait. That didn’t come out right.”

Brad chuckled. “Don’t worry, Luke. I know what you meant, and I know I can trust you with my sister. I can trust you with my sister, can’t I?”

“Hey, she’s practically my sister, too.” Liar. That might have been true when he and Brad were eleven, but now—

As Angela had told him, she was all grown up now. And so was he. And there had been nothing brotherly about his reaction to her.

“Thanks, Luke. I knew I could count on you.”

Lucas hung up with a frustrated sigh and dialed Ryker’s number.

Yeah, Brad could trust him completely. He’d watch her every move and be on alert in case anything happened.

He’d keep her safe. Even if it meant taking a lot of cold showers.