Читать книгу Bodyguard Reunion - Margaret Daley - Страница 12

THREE

Chloe whirled away from the hallway window and ran to the stairs. As she descended, she drew her gun. “T.J., we’ve got a visitor.” She shouted the words and raced for the alarm system to turn it off so she could go outside.

“Where?” T.J. rushed into the foyer, his weapon in his hand.

“Right side of house.” Heart pounding, she punched in the off code, then hurried toward the front door at the same time he did. “I’ll check outside. You stay in here and guard the Zimmermans.” She reached for the handle first.

Her comment stopped him. He let his arm drop back to his side, a frown slashing his face. “I’m bigger. More capable of stopping an assailant.”

“We’re not going to get into an arm-wrestling match right now. I won’t jump the person.” She pulled open the door, narrowing her gaze on him. “I’m using my gun.”

He charged out the entrance. “So am I. Lock the door, turn on the alarm and call the police.”

Short of tackling him and knocking him out, Chloe had no other choice but to do as he said. But when this was over with, he would hear from her. She didn’t need protecting, too.

She flipped the lock in place, then stabbed in the code to turn the alarm back on. Anger and frustration surged through her veins. Pushing those emotions down, she called her detective friend.

“You wanted to know if anything unusual happens. T.J. is outside trying to apprehend an intruder.” She gave him the address.

“On my way.”

As she hung up, she hurried up the stairs to check on the Zimmermans and let them know what was happening. When she knocked on their bedroom door, no one called out or let her in. She heard something hit the floor and reached for the knob.

* * *

Gun drawn and up, T.J. crept around the right side of the house, his full concentration on protecting his client. A picture of Chloe’s furious face taunted his attention for a couple of seconds until he shoved it away. He’d deal with her anger later. His first priority was keeping everyone safe, including Chloe, whether she liked it or not.

A dog barked in the still of night—probably two or three houses away. His nerves taut, T.J. rounded the corner, ready to duck if shot at. He searched the shadows. Something moved beside a holly bush against the eight-foot fence. A man darted out from behind the foliage and ran toward the backyard.

T.J. gave chase, his strides lengthening. The intruder headed for the rear of the property, glancing over his shoulder at T.J., then sprinting faster.

T.J. increased his speed, cutting the distance between them. He catalogued the man’s build—over six-and-a-half feet tall, slim, gangly, his limbs disproportionate to the rest of him, reminding T.J. of an octopus.

The intruder lunged for the top of the fence, trying to hoist himself over it. T.J. leaped toward him and grabbed his legs as the man dangled half on this side of the property. T.J. yanked hard and the trespasser fell into him, sending them both crashing backward. T.J. hit the ground first with the intruder landing on top of him.

The air swooshed from T.J.’s lungs. His head bounced against the ground, causing the world to spin before his eyes. The hard impact wrenched the gun from his hand, and his Glock flew across the grass.

The man rolled off T.J. Scrambling for his weapon, T.J. drew in a breath. But the prowler barreled into T.J. before he could grab his gun.

* * *

Chloe twisted the Zimmermans’ bedroom door handle. Locked. “Mary. Paul. Open up.” She threw her shoulder against the barrier between her and her client. Pain radiated through her body as she hit the door again. Solid. Not budging. She stepped away to shoot the lock.

“Coming. Coming,” came Paul’s deep husky voice through the wood.

Chloe poised, ready at a second’s notice to react if he was being forced to let her in.

When he opened the door finally and stuck his head out of the gap in the entrance, worried lines mixed with the exhaustion on his face, his eyes blinking at the dazzling light in the hallway. “What’s wrong?”

“What was that crashing sound?”

“When I got out of bed, I bumped into an end table. Why are you waking us up?” He shook his head as though to wake himself totally.

“There’s a prowler outside. T.J. has gone to check on the situation while I secure you two. I need to come in and check your bedroom.”

“No one’s in here. I’d know.”

“Humor me.”

He flipped on the overhead light and stepped to the side to allow her to pass. Lying in bed, Mary groaned and hid her face as illumination flooded the room.

“She took a sleeping pill. After what happened today, she didn’t think she would get to sleep any other way.” Dressed in a long robe, Paul moved toward the bed. “What do you need us to do?”

“You two need to get up in case I have to move you quickly.” Chloe made a tour of the room, inspecting the closet and the connected bathroom. She stopped at the window and peered out the front of the house before checking to make sure it was locked. Satisfied no intruder was in the room, she crossed to the door. “Get dressed. I’ll be out in the hall.”

The muscles in her neck and shoulder taut, Chloe paced the corridor, examining the stairs and foyer below each time she passed them. Finally, when Mary and Paul left their bedroom, Chloe glanced at her watch. It had been ten minutes since T.J. had gone outside. She didn’t like not knowing what was going on.

What if something happened to him? No, I won’t think about that. T.J. can take care of himself. He’s been protecting people longer than me. He’s in Your hands, Lord.

The couple approached Chloe. Mary leaned against her husband, trying to wake up.

“What do we do now?” Paul asked, his arm around his wife.

“Sit down there—” Chloe gestured toward an area where their backs would be against the wall “—and if I tell you to move, do so immediately. Don’t be alarmed. I’m turning off the hallway light so I can check outside and see what’s happening.”

She inspected the ground where she’d seen the intruder on the side of the house. Nothing. Where was T.J.? The prowler? If he ran from T.J., he would go for the backyard most likely. She flipped the hallway light on again, then entered a bedroom overlooking the rear.

The sight of a tall, thin man pouncing on a figure on the ground stiffened her. She leaned closer to see what was going on by the fence, the security lights not quite reaching the place where two men wrestled, rolling away from her view. The urge to go out and help was overpowering, but her job was to stay with the Zimmermans.

One last time, she searched the darkness at the back of the yard. The night shadowed the pair enough she couldn’t tell what was going on. T.J. had had some of the best training in the world, but she hated the helplessness she felt. She shook it off and hurried toward the hallway. She needed to get Mary and Paul into the closet under the staircase—no windows and only one way in. That way she would be able to know if someone breached the lower level right away and defend them better until the police arrived.

* * *

T.J. threw a punch that connected with the intruder’s jaw. The man returned it with a right uppercut, sending T.J. staggering back against the fence. The guy rushed in, pinning T.J. then pounding his fists into his stomach and torso. One. Two. Three jabs. The breath left his lungs. Lightheaded, he blocked the next assault and brought his knee up into his assailant. The man dropped to the ground, groaning. T.J. hammered him until the prowler went still.

T.J. wanted this to end. Still feeling dazed, he stumbled toward the place where his gun lay. An iron grip on his left leg, then a sharp jerk, sent him down. He shook off the assailant’s hand and scrambled away, then struggled to his feet and faced his opponent. The man’s features were obscured by the dark. The man drew himself up tall, his arms held out from his body as he sidled to the right. T.J. mimicked his moves, taking a reprieve in order to inhale deep, fortifying breaths.

“The police are on the way. I’m not letting you leave.” T.J. made a full circle. The sound of the intruder’s raspy breathing wafted to him. “You aren’t getting away. You might as well make it easy for yourself and give up.”

The prowler cackled. “I haven’t done anything wrong. You attacked me. I welcome the police.”

“You’re trespassing on private property.”

“You aren’t going to stop me from getting my story.”

Maybe the guy had hit T.J. one time too many. “Story?”

“Yes, I work for the Texas Inquirer News.”

“That’s great. You can tell the police.” In the distance a siren blared, a welcome sound. T.J. angled closer to his Glock, slicing a glance toward it.

In that split second, the man rushed T.J., taking him to the ground and rolling toward the gun. He’d never lost his gun, and he wouldn’t let this be the first time.

The prowler kept reaching toward T.J.’s Glock. Inches from it, T.J. knocked the lanky guy’s arm away, lurched across the short space and latched on to his weapon. With all his strength, he shoved the man away from him and swung the gun around, aiming it at the intruder’s chest.

“Don’t move.” T.J. scooted back, then rose, keeping his Glock trained on the prone man.

The siren stopped, not far from the house. In spite of the cold air, sweat drenched T.J. The sound of the gate opening reverberated through the air, quickly followed by someone shouting, “Police!”

The prowler pushed to his feet, the security light illuminating the fury on his thin face. “Help. This man is going to kill me.”

T.J. suppressed the urge to laugh, because until the police could straighten this out, he would be suspected, too.

“Drop the gun,” the first of the two officers said, his own weapon on T.J.

T.J. followed his order and then raised his hands. “I’m T. J. Davenport. This man is trespassing.”

* * *

With the patrol cars’ lights flashing in the driveway, Chloe stood on the porch with Detective Matthews as two officers led T.J. and the intruder from the backyard. Both of them had their hands cuffed behind them. She might be mad at T.J. for cutting her off and rushing outside after the prowler, but the sight of his cuts, his rumpled clothing and the bits of dead grass in his hair and on his sweatshirt emphasized she’d fared better than he had. She could take care of herself in most situations, but after one look at the size of the intruder, she had to admit in this case she might not have been able to. She gave a wry smile. Maybe she did have limitations.

But with the Lord all things are possible. You kept us safe. Thank You.

Rob stepped forward, waving his hand toward T.J. “He’s the good guy. You can release him.”

“Oh, please keep them on him for a few more minutes,” Chloe whispered behind Rob.

Her friend chuckled. “Behave, Chloe.”

The police officer took the handcuffs off T.J. “What do you want us to do with the other one?”

“I want to talk to him, then you can take him to the station,” Rob said as he descended the steps.

Rubbing his wrists, T.J. plodded up the stairs to the top of the porch, where Chloe stood. “Where are Mary and Paul?”

“In the living room with an officer. They’re safe.”

“Good, because I want to be in on this interrogation.” T.J. backed down several steps but glanced over his shoulder. “And I heard the crack about keeping the handcuffs on me.”

Serves him right for playing the macho male. She presented an innocent expression. “You okay? You should be checked out by a doctor.”

He turned toward Rob and the intruder. “I’m fine. It’s happened before. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not. You know how to take care of yourself,” Chloe fired back, not wanting him to think she had been worried about him. But I was. Yeah, and that’s the problem. My focus needs to be on Mary and Paul, not T.J.

Though she tried not to, Chloe slanted a look toward T.J., his strong jaw set in a hard line, his usually neat and professional medium-length black hair messy from wrestling with an assailant. A vision of her running her hand through that hair was quickly replaced with another memory of the touch of his day-old beard beneath her fingers as she framed his face and leaned in to kiss...

Chloe shook the thoughts from her mind. That was the past. T.J. had made it clear that he had no room for a wife in his life, and then he’d flown to Washington to guard the vice president. She made a mistake only once—never twice.

“What were you doing here?” Rob asked the tall, lanky man, dragging Chloe’s attention to their current situation.

“I don’t deserve this kind of treatment. I’m not a criminal. I demand these handcuffs be taken off me, too.” The trespasser tossed his head toward T.J. “He chased me. Tackled me. I’m the victim here.”

“What were you doing here?” A steel thread ran through her friend’s voice. “Or if you can’t answer that question, maybe you can manage telling me who you are?”

The guy drew himself up even taller. “I’m a reporter for the Texas Inquirer News and was here to interview the Zimmermans.”

“At ten o’clock at night?” Chloe asked, all three men turning their attention to her.

The prowler shrugged. “The lights were on, so I thought they were up.”

Chloe folded her arms over her chest, trying to ignore T.J.’s gaze on her, which she was finding was next to impossible. “So you decided to go around to the back of the house and knock on the kitchen door? Is that your normal way to interview people? Perhaps you wanted to peep into windows to make sure people were up at this hour.”

T.J. laughed and looked back at the intruder. “Who told you the Zimmermans were even here?”

The trespasser’s forehead creased. “They aren’t? My source sounded like they knew.”

“They? More than one?” T.J. moved to the bottom of the stairs.

“Only one, but you aren’t getting anything else from me, not even if male or female.” With blood streaked across his face, the reporter lifted his chin and glared at T.J.

“Who are you? Who is your source?” Rob asked, throwing a look to be quiet at Chloe and T.J.

“I’m Artie Franklin. I won’t tell you my source. I don’t have to. You’ll find my credentials in my wallet in my back pocket.”

Rob approached the man, removed his billfold and flipped it open. “Being a reporter doesn’t give you free rein.” He indicated to the officer nearby to take the man to the station, handing his patrol partner the wallet. “I’ll be there soon.” After the pair left with Artie Franklin, Rob climbed the stairs. “Let’s finish this inside. It’s freezing out here.”

Chloe hadn’t felt the cold because energy had been charging through her, the adrenaline only now beginning to subside. “I want to know who told him the Zimmermans were here.”

“So do I.” T.J. held the door open for Rob and Chloe, and then followed them into the house.

“I’ll do my best to put pressure on him, but I’ve dealt with a few like this Artie Franklin. They will protect their sources at all costs.”

Chloe swung around in the spacious foyer. “Give me a chance to talk to him. He might tell me. I didn’t pound him into the ground and threaten him with a gun.”

T.J. quirked a grin, then winced. “Hey, you wanted me to stop him. I did.”

“The bottom line is that he found us when only a few knew the Zimmermans were staying here. We need to find out who leaked the info.”

“It only takes one person saying something for it to get out. That’s why in WitSec there are such strict protocols in place.” T.J. looked her in the eye. “We’re going to have to do the same thing.”

She nodded. “We’ll be moving from here, but I’ll check in with you, Rob, to find out what you get from this Franklin character.”

Rob frowned. “I don’t like y’all being out of contact with me. I understand the Zimmermans have two more stops in the Dallas area. Will they be attending those?”

“I think they should cancel the tour, but it—”

“Yes, we’ll be going to them.” Paul interrupted Chloe. “We have people who are expecting to see us. We’ll be attending both of those events. Mary and I have prayed about this and feel it’s what we have to do.”

Chloe spun around and faced the man. “Someone is after both of you. The wise thing to do is to put a stop to this tour.”

Mary came up beside her husband. “That’s why our publisher hired you and T.J. You’ll protect us, but more important, the Lord will.”

“Oh, great. Logic won’t sway them,” T.J. mumbled close to Chloe.

“Hush,” she whispered, then faced the couple. “We’re moving. That’s the least we can do, since someone knows you two are here. Go pack. I want to be gone in half an hour.”

As the Zimmermans mounted the stairs, Chloe shifted toward Rob. “I’ll keep you informed, but we’re going to have to be careful.” She began walking her friend toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to pack?”

“I never unpacked.”

“I’m leaving him here.” Rob waved toward the third officer standing in the entrance into the living room. “I’d feel better.”

She opened the front door. “Fine. But he isn’t to follow us. Okay?”

“I figured you’d say that. But you’ve got to promise me you’ll call if there’s more trouble.”

“I will. You and I go back years.” She watched him leave before turning toward T.J. “I may not have to pack, but it looks like you need to clean up. When we get to the new safe house, we need to decide which one of us is in charge. Both of us can’t be. It isn’t working.” The best way to resist T.J.’s appeal was to concentrate on the job and keep everything professional. Or she would find herself falling in love again.

“Agreed.” T.J. headed toward the rear part of the house.

Just before he disappeared down the hallway, a scream pierced the air.