Her Bodyguard Page 15

  He raised himself above her and pushed into her silken waiting core. And groaned.

  Angela cried out softly, then arched her hips, giving him full access, which he took. For a few seconds he didn’t move, allowing her time to get used to him. He tortured himself by staying perfectly still until he thought he might explode. Then when he did move, it was excruciatingly slowly.

  But she wasn’t having slow and easy. His chest rumbled slightly with laughter. Not his Brat. Even in bed, she fought to be in control.

  “Stop trying to be on top,” he whispered in her ear, then he kissed his way from her ear to her lips. “You’re not going to win this one.”

  Then he thrust inside her—hard. Hard and long. He moved in and out, in and out until he saw her expression change from determination to surprise to ecstasy.

  He thrust again and came in a burst of inner light that rivaled the storm outside. Within a split second, she gasped and arched and he felt the full extent of her orgasm as she pulsed around him.

  He buried his face between her neck and shoulder, breathing hard. As his breathing slowed, he heard her soft sigh and felt her fingers tracing his forearms, his biceps and triceps, his shoulders.

  He’d satisfied her. He knew that. What he didn’t know was how she was going to feel about him when morning came.

  He lifted his head and brushed his lips across hers, then gently rolled away, pulling her into the crook of his arm.

  She settled in with a soft sigh, as if she were made to fit there.

  With the super-attenuated clarity of second thought, he understood that he was going to regret this. A few moments of indulgence may have cost him the most precious necessity for keeping her safe.

  Her trust.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lucas’s cell phone woke him. He came awake completely aware of everything around him. He’d learned that trick early on, when his dad would come home late and drunk.

  The bed beside him was empty, only a small indentation in the pillow indicating that Angela had been there. He grabbed the ringing phone with one hand and his briefs with the other, as his eyes swept the room.

  The bathroom door was closed, and he realized he heard the shower running. He let out a sigh of relief.

  “Yeah?” he said into the phone.

  “Luke! Why didn’t you answer?” Brad asked sharply.

  “I was asleep,” he said, glancing at the phone’s display. “It’s not even seven o’clock.”

  The bathroom door opened and Angela emerged through a fast-dispersing cloud of steam. She had the orange gown on, and her hair was wet.

  He held up his hand in a warning to stay quiet.

  “Asleep?” Several explicit curse words told Lucas what Brad thought about that.

  “Lucas, do you have any toothpaste?” Angela asked, missing or ignoring his upraised hand.

  “Is that Angela?” Brad snapped.

  Lucas grimaced.

  “What the hell? You said you were asleep. Listen you SOB, you’d better not—”

  “Brad, come on. She just came in looking for toothpaste. I wouldn’t—” But he had.

  Angela froze and her face turned red.

  Lucas pointed at his duffel bag but didn’t move to help her. He couldn’t. He was naked under the covers, and he was pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate him jumping up.

  She sidled over to the bag, grabbed the tube and rushed back into the bathroom.

  “Yeah, sorry,” Brad said. “I know you’d never take advantage of my little sister. I’m just really on edge. I got this number from Dawson. Listen, Luke. There was a note in our mailbox this morning. One of the cops watching the house saw a kid leave it. It was written in block letters. It said ‘Too late, Mr. ADA. Your sister’s already dead.’”

  Fear arrowed through Lucas’s gut. “Good God, Brad!”

  “I know,” Brad responded. “It scared the crap out of me.”

  “Did they catch the kid?”

  “Yeah, but of course he knew nothing. Some guy gave him twenty bucks to put it in the box. What do you think it means?”

  Lucas thought fast. Obviously, the hit man had reason to believe he knew where Angela was. That was the only thing that made sense. “Listen to me, Brad. That’s scary as hell, but I think they’re just trying to put pressure on you. Trust me. I haven’t seen anything that would make me think they know where we are.”

  “Well, listen to this. Nikki and Milo showed up at the prison to see their dad, but Paulo wasn’t with them, and neither was Tony.”

  “Okay. So big brother Paulo may have taken off down here to help baby brother Tony. We’ll be ready for them. I’m going to hang up now, in case they’re monitoring your phone. Next time send a text.”

  Lucas hung up and quickly pulled on his briefs and shorts. When he turned around, Angela was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, the toothpaste in her hand. Her chocolate eyes were wide and worried.

  “Who are Paulo and Tony?” she asked.

  How much had she heard? He stepped over and took the tube, noticing that she let go as soon as his fingers touched it. He took his cue from her.

  “Nobody,” he said without looking at her.

  “So now you think the hit man who’s after me is nobody? Because it sounded to me like he’s somebody you need to be ready for.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Nothing’s happening this weekend. We’ll know more after the trial reconvenes on Monday.”

  “So Brad only called to tell you the hit men were in New Orleans? Right. That’s nothing to worry about.”

  “He was just letting me know what’s happening up there.” Lucas was breaking his own rule by lying to her. But nothing good could come from her knowing about the cruel note.

  “And you still think they’re monitoring his phone, too. How can that be? I mean, Brad and the whole family are in protective custody.”

  He shrugged. “Can’t take any chances. It’s easy to track a cell phone these days.”

  “As easy as setting up a spy cam?”

  There was an edge of recrimination to her voice. He couldn’t even feel indignant about her attitude. He deserved recrimination and more for his monumental lapse in judgment. He never should have made love to her the night before.

  He turned, his mouth quirked up at the corner. “Probably every bit as easy. I’ll go make coffee.”

  He skirted the end of the bed, doing his best to stay as far away from her as possible. He needn’t have bothered. As soon as he moved, she stepped, out of his way.

  In the kitchen, he put the coffee on and paced as he waited for it to brew. He did his best not to think about the night before, but his brain wasn’t cooperating.

  She already regretted their lovemaking just like he knew she would. He regretted it, too, but probably not for the same reason she did. Once he’d realized that he didn’t have the willpower to stop himself from making love to her, and had accepted that she wasn’t going to stop him, he’d hoped at least he’d finally be able to get her out of his system.

  No such luck.

  Nothing worked. Not splashing cold water from the sink on his face. Not gulping half a quart of orange juice.

  Twelve years ago, Angela’s innocent, soft kiss had shocked the hell out of him. And not only because he’d never suspected that she felt anything but a big brother-like hero worship for him. He’d always been a friend to her, a buddy, just like he was to Brad.

  Or at least that’s what he’d always told himself. But her kiss had shocked him to the core. Suddenly, Brad’s bratty little sister wasn’t a kid. She was a woman.

  If Lucas hadn’t already had a really good reason to get out of Chef Voleur, she’d given him one that night.

  He’d run like hell away from his hometown not only to escape the infamy and scandal of the Delancey name but also to deny the terrifying truth that he suddenly lusted after a girl he’d known since they were kids. A girl who’d trusted him, just like she trusted her big brother. Until he’d
betrayed her trust by kissing her.

  Staring out the bank of windows that faced Lake Pontchartrain, Lucas shook his head. As of last night, kissing Angela wasn’t the worst mistake he’d ever made.

  Making love with her was.

  “Lucas?”

  He whirled.

  She stood in the kitchen doorway, dressed in the enormous man’s shirt and tight jeans she’d worn last night. She had a pair of pants in her hand, and she looked terrified.

  “What is it?”

  “These are the Capri pants I’ve been wearing ever since the other night when you found the camera.”

  He frowned. “Yeah?”

  “There’s something on them.” She held them out in a trembling hand.

  “You mean like blood?”

  She shook her head.

  He took the pants from her. “What am I looking for, Ange?”

  She pointed. “The waist. There. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m afraid—”

  He looked at the waistband of the pants.

  And saw it.

  There, stuck to the left back of the waistband, was a small plastic disk. It was light enough that it wouldn’t weigh down the pants but large enough to notice, unless the person it had been planted on was under a tremendous amount of stress.

  Like Angela had been.

  “Lucas—”

  He nodded. “It’s a GPS tracking device. Son of a bitch!” He grabbed a paper towel and covered the disk with it to preserve the fingerprints before he ripped it away from the material.

  He squeezed it in his fist. “I ought to—” No. It was too late to destroy it. Whoever had planted it on her already knew where they were. They’d had—how long? He opened his fist and studied the small disk.

  “When did this happen?” he muttered.

  “It must have been after the car exploded,” Angela replied. “The EMTs were pushing your gurney through the crowd and I was following you. I almost fell more than once. People in the crowd caught me and set me upright.”

  That made sense. The crowd had been as tight as sardines.

  “If he was close enough to plant this GPS on you, why didn’t he just—” He stopped.

  “Why didn’t he just kill me? She shrugged. “Maybe he’s a coward. Maybe he doesn’t know how to shoot a gun. You said he’s the baby of the family, right?”

  Lucas nodded. She could be right. Maybe Tony had planted the device and now he was waiting for his sharpshooter brother Paulo to come in and finish the job. “He’s had more than a day to track us.” He put the paper-wrapped plastic disk in his pocket, cursing himself for not suspecting something like this. “No wonder they said you were already dead.”

  “What?” Angela’s face drained of all color. She swayed and caught hold of the back of a kitchen chair.

  “Damn it!” He had to focus. He was making mistakes right and left. He was getting what he deserved for taking his mind off his purpose.

  Trouble was, Angela was in the crosshairs, which was exactly why he should have never allowed himself to let down his guard, not even for one kiss, much less a full night of pleasure.

  “They? Who said I was al-already dead?” Her knuckles were white where she held onto the back of the chair. “What—are you talking about?”

  He set his jaw. No more giving in to his feelings. He was her protector. Her bodyguard. And that was all.

  “Brad got a note,” he said in a measured tone. “It said, ‘Mr. ADA, your sister is already dead.’ That’s what he called about.”

  Her face grew ashen. Her throat moved as she swallowed. “You—didn’t think I needed to know that?”

  He shook his head.

  The indescribable fear that held her in thrall was his fault. He’d sworn to keep her safe—to Brad, to himself and to her. And he’d failed.

  “I don’t understand. Why would they write a note like that? What does it mean?”

  It meant she wasn’t safe with him. And once he answered her question, she’d realize that. She’d know that even though he’d promised her she could trust him, she’d been stupid to do so.

  “It means they’ve found you.”

  ANGELA STARED AT LUCAS, not wanting to believe her ears. She’d known in the rational part of her brain what the disk was as soon as she’d seen it. But the emotional side, the terror-filled side, had tried to deny it. Had hoped that Lucas would have some other explanation for what it was.

  “You’re saying the hit man—put that thing on me.”

  Lucas nodded blandly, as if he’d been asked if he wanted a drink. No concern. No reassurance. No emotion of any kind.

  Within the space of a few seconds, he’d changed completely. He was no longer her brother’s best friend. And even though just a few hours ago they’d shared the most intimate experience two people could possibly share, he was not the lover who’d held her so tenderly and made her feel beautiful and loved and secure in his arms. He wasn’t even the cop who’d promised to protect her.

  He was a stranger. A cold, aloof stranger just doing his job. Even as that thought slid through her mind she knew it wasn’t true.

  She knew him. He wasn’t a distant, cold man. Certainly not about responsibility. Lucas was passionate, determined, focused. Never detached.

  So what was he doing?

  And then the answer hit her. Of course. He was afraid he’d failed her, and he was trying to hide his fear.

  “Lucas?” she said tentatively.

  “You need to eat something. I’m going outside to look around.” He half turned. “Don’t leave the house.”

  “What about you? You need to eat, too.”

  He didn’t answer her. He just opened the kitchen door and stalked through it, slamming it behind him.

  Angela watched him until he was out of sight. His back was straight. He strode purposefully down the back steps and across the lawn toward the lake, moving with a powerful grace, like a lion or a tiger—like a predator. Then she saw him reach behind under his T-shirt and pull his weapon.

  When she saw that, she realized it didn’t matter whether he regretted what they’d done. It didn’t even matter if she never saw him again after all this was over.

  Nothing mattered, except that he was prepared to give his life to save hers.

  He was her hero.

  LUCAS FELT THE SLIGHT WEIGHT of the disk in his pocket as he surveyed the area around the cabin. The words from the note Brad had read him rang in his ears.

  Your sister’s already dead.

  It took every ounce of his willpower to quell the urge to throw the GPS locator on the ground and stomp it into dust. He was second-guessing himself—never a good idea. His instincts had always been good.

  But his brain kept on anyway. What if it wasn’t too late? What if the hit man hadn’t tracked her to this location yet?

  He might still have time to get her away from here, leaving the locator behind as a decoy.

  He shook his head. Anyone savvy enough and with enough chutzpah to plant a locator in a crowd was certainly smart enough to have already pinpointed their location and be on their way, and he didn’t want to meet them on the narrow road that was the only way to get to the cabin.

  He wanted to be prepared. Find a vantage point from which he could pick them off as they arrived.

  Pulling the disk out of his pocket, he stared at it. The hit man had been right next to Angela. He’d touched her.

  The thought of Tony Picone being that close to Angela, the image of him pressing the sticky back of the disk against her pants, sent chills down Lucas’s back. Tony had been close enough to kill her.

  So why hadn’t he?

  Either he’d been ordered not to, or he’d chickened out. If the latter was the case, then what Brad said made a lot of sense. If it was Tony, the baby, then this was his first hit.

  But the question he’d asked Brad still plagued him. Why would the crime lord have sent his wife’s baby boy on such an important mission? Lucas couldn’t think of a good answer
. But maybe that was because the elder Picone hadn’t sent him. What if Tony had taken it upon himself to free his father?

  Lucas liked those odds.

  He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his brother’s number. “Ethan, it’s me.”

  “Are you okay? Has something happened to my car?”

  “The car’s fine. And by the way, so are we. Listen. This is important. Tony Picone planted a tracking device on Angela’s clothes. He knows where we are.”

  “Tracking device? How the hell did that happen without you seeing it? And when?”

  “Had to be in the crowd after the explosion.”

  “Damn. If he was that close to her—”

  “He could have shot her. But this is his first hit. Either the old man’s given orders not to hurt her, or Tony’s here on his own, which means anything could happen.”

  “Seen any sign of him?”

  “No, but I’m expecting him any minute. I figure he waited until daylight, since he doesn’t know anything about the area around here.” As Lucas spoke, he heard Felton’s dogs howling.

  “And around here is—?”

  “The fishing cabin.”

  “Good idea.”

  Lucas smiled wryly. “Yeah, when I thought he couldn’t find us. I’m thinking I’d like to have some backup. What do you think? Can you or your boss call the Madison local law enforcement?”

  There was a slight pause. Was Ethan weighing the advantages of helping the brother he’d been angry at for so long?

  Now’s not the time, kid. They could go head to head about their personal differences when Angela’s life was no longer in danger. He opened his mouth to say as much.

  “Why don’t you get out of there? You can’t see the road from the cabin.”

  “He’s had plenty of time to get here. I don’t want to run into him on the road with Angela in the car. I’d rather stay up here and meet him on my turf. Felton’s watching the road for me.”

  “Okay,” Ethan responded. “I’ll give Sheriff Lessard a call and see if he can send a couple of deputies. You want them now?”