Bodyguard/Husband (22 page)

Jack’s other hand caressed her bare shoulder as his finger traced the line of her jaw. His eyes were smoky and soft in the darkness. Oh God, she was afraid she was more than just a little in love with him.

He touched his lips to her forehead. “I’m going to do my best to keep you safe. We’ll get this guy.”

But then what?

She ducked her head, afraid of the feelings his lips and hands were stirring within her. She took a long breath filled with his soapy, sunny essence.

“Tell me about Danny.”

He went perfectly still.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

He shrugged and straightened, and Holly felt his withdrawal like a chill breeze. Was he going to refuse to talk to her now?

He wiped a hand down his face. “At first it didn’t seem relevant. I didn’t think anyone needed to know how I’d come to find out about your case.” He sighed. “I guess I didn’t want you to think I might be swayed by personal feelings. Hell, maybe I didn’t want to think it of myself.”

“You were good friends?”

“The best.” His voice was muffled by a suffocating regret. “He was always there for me. His parents took me in for a while after my mom was killed. Then, the one time he asked me to be there for him, I went and got myself shot and couldn’t respond until it was too late.”

“That’s when you had the surgeries on your shoulder?” Holly’s compassion swelled until her throat felt tight. “I’m sorry. Poor Danny. If he hadn’t gotten involved with my case—”

“Don’t even think that.” Jack clutched her shoulder. “Danny was a good detective. If he had to die, at least he died the way he’d have wanted to, trying to stop a murderer.”

Holly shuddered. “Jack?”

He pulled her closer and placed his cheek against her hair. “Yeah, hon?”

She splayed her palm across his taut abdomen. “Make me feel safe.”

He growled deep in his throat and pulled her to him, covering her face and neck and breasts with his kisses,
until everything fled her brain except the heady, erotic sensation of him making love to her.

Saturday, June 28

“So I soberly laid my last plan, to extinguish the man.
Shall become first peace out of pain,

Then a light, then thy breast,

O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again.”

The fates are with me now. Once more shall I stir the potion. Once more shall I milk the venom. Then he will be no more and you will be free. And my dearest love, if you will not come to me even then, well be damned. I’ll come for you.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, as they were dressing for the funeral, Decker called Jack to tell him the FBI lab had managed to recover DNA from the textbook, although they’d gotten nothing from the note. Decker told him not to get his hopes up, because they had also recovered some latex, which suggested the presence of surgical gloves. But it appeared that someone may have sneezed or coughed on the page Jack had marked.

Jack knew the likelihood was small that the DNA recovered from the book was the killer’s, but maybe it was enough to get a warrant for Sheffield’s DNA.

Decker had more news too. The CSI team that had gone over Miss Emma Thompson’s car had found a partial footprint.

“The assay shows mud, bits of gravel and sand, and calcium carbonate and magnesium carbonate.”

“Is that significant?”

“Well, from what I understand, calcium magnesium carbonate is dolomite, which is extremely rare in that part of the country, although calcium carbonate, which is limestone, is fairly common. But I suppose the gravel could have been imported. They’re assaying a control sample from the parking lot now.”

“Thanks, Decker. Tell them I need something unique, something I can hang a killer on.”

He’d wait for the facts, like he always did, but he couldn’t help but feel a sliver of satisfaction. Maybe this case was coming together, after all. He shrugged on his jacket and checked that his weapon was securely fastened into his belt holster.

“Who was that?” Holly asked as she walked into the kitchen, fiddling with an earring. She was dressed in an ankle-length black dress, dark stockings and slender black pumps. A string of pearls and pearl stud earrings were her only adornment. The black made her golden-brown eyes look huge and trusting.

Jack swallowed, reminding himself that they were going to her aunt’s funeral and he shouldn’t be thinking of the silken skin and firm curves under her dress.

“That was Decker, my boss. He had a couple of things for me. They did find a partial footprint in Miss Emma Thompson’s car, and they recovered some DNA from the textbook.”

Holly’s eyes grew wider. “DNA? Will you be able to match it with Donald Sheffield?”

He nodded as they got into the car. “I’ve asked the Jackson police to get a warrant for his DNA. It’s a cinch he won’t provide it voluntarily. I want to drive up there this afternoon to be there when they execute the warrant. I don’t want anything to screw this up.”
He glanced over at her as he backed out of the garage. “If that’s okay with you.”

“That’s fine.” Holly fingered her pearls, staring out the car window.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, and he saw her swallow.

“I dread this,” she said.

He pulled out onto the street and headed for the funeral home. “I know.”

“I’ve been to a lot of funerals. It’s expected in a town like Maze, but this is family.”

He nodded, willing himself to keep his mind on Holly and not let it drift back in time to the worst funeral he’d ever sat through.

A memory hit him unawares. The bright, hushed Baptist church where his mother’s funeral had been held, thanks to the generosity of Danny’s parents. They had taken him in as soon as he was released from the hospital, and had paid for his mother’s funeral.

Jack remembered sitting with Danny on one side of him and Danny’s mother on the other, his broken arm throbbing with pain, as the preacher made kind but impersonal statements about the murdered woman he’d never met, and the child orphaned by her death. No one else was there. No one brought casseroles or comfort to the thirteen-year-old boy who had watched helplessly as his stepfather wrapped his hands around his mother’s neck and choked the life out of her.

“You had to bury your mother,” she murmured.

He winced. Sometimes she was a mind reader. He didn’t answer, hoping she’d move on to what she really wanted to talk about, which was her aunt’s funeral today.

“How did you stand it?”

She was just looking for reassurance, he told himself. She only wanted to hear that it was possible to stand anything. “You stand it. You get through it and you go on, because that’s what people do.” He squeezed her hand briefly.

“You’re so calm, so controlled. I wish I could be more like you. I’m—” she caught her breath in a little sobbing gasp “—I’m a wreck.”

He shot her a quick glance. Her eyes were glittery with unshed tears, but her back was straight and her chin was lifted. Deep inside, Jack felt a glow of pride and admiration for her. “You’re doing great. I’ve never known anyone like you. You spend all your energy worrying about other people, and all your time doing things for them. You’re strong, physically and emotionally. When you get your mind set on something, you never give up, which may or may not be a good thing.” He looked for a smile, but she was watching him somberly.

“Hey,” he said, touching the corner of her mouth. “Smile for me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I can bear it if you die, too.”

The words hit his heart with a thud. He wasn’t planning to die. That wasn’t what scared the crap out of him. The trust and hope and, yes, even love, in her small, strained voice were what just about did him in.

He pulled into the parking lot of the funeral home and turned to her. “I’m going to do my best not to die, Holly.”

Jack reached out and placed his palm against her cheek. She closed her eyes and lay her hand on top of his. “And if I can help it, nobody else is going to die because of this bastard.”

B
Y THE TIME
the funeral was over, Holly felt as fragile as a teacup too close to the edge of a table. Her great-aunt had never had children of her own, and for many years it had been obvious to Holly that caring for her and her sister was a burden to Bode. But she’d been vivacious and fun-loving, and she’d taught them how to cook, how to dress and how to have fun with life. The saddest part of losing her was remembering the person she’d once been.

Uncle Virgil had done well. Debi had sat beside him and he’d held her hand the whole time. Somehow, while Holly had been doing her best to take care of her family, they had learned to depend on each other. It was a gratifying feeling, if a lonely one.

All Holly wanted to do now was go home and sleep for a day or two, preferably with Jack at her side. The outpouring of love and sympathy from the people of Maze was heartwarming, but it was also exhausting. It seemed that every single citizen of Maze had turned out for Aunt Bode’s funeral.

Holly saw a new side of Jack, tall and elegant in his dark suit, as he greeted strangers and fielded questions and comments. He stood like a bulwark between her and the cloying sympathy of the well-meaning but sometimes suffocating neighbors and friends.

After a poignant graveside service during which it started to rain, Holly was ready to take Uncle Virgil home, and make sure he and Debi were okay.

As they rode back to the funeral home in the limousine, Holly put her hand on Jack’s arm. He automatically covered her hand with his and bent his head.

“After we spend a little while with Uncle Virgil and Debi at his house, we should be able to go home.”

Jack gave her a guilty look. “Do you think you
could ride with them? I need to be in Jackson when that DNA warrant is executed. Sheffield could be our man.” He glanced at his watch. “If I leave five minutes ago and drive like hell I can make it.”

As sudden and sharp as a slap in the face, the reason Jack was here hit her. He’d played his part so well, she’d forgotten.

There was a killer out there, and Jack was here to catch him.

Comforting the victim, making her fall in love with him, was just a perk of the job. Holly winced. She was overemotional right now, and unfortunately, she’d allowed herself to depend on Jack way too much in the few days he’d been here. She’d better get used to handling things alone again.

Tears she’d held at bay all day pricked her eyelids. “Sure. I can ride with them. No problem.”

“Unless you’ll go with me. I wish you would. I’d prefer not to let you out of my sight.”

And she savored every second by his side. She considered going, just to be with him. But the idea of spending hours at the police station in Jackson, not to mention the possibility of facing Donald Sheffield, was more than she could handle. She shook her head.

“It’s okay. I know you don’t want to leave your family right now. But promise me you won’t go anywhere. The only person that’s going to be investigating suspects is me. Got that?”

Holly noticed Debi straining to hear what they were saying from the opposite seat of the limo, at the same time as Jack smiled and kissed her nose. More acting.

She nodded and pasted a smile on her face. “I understand,
dear.
But you hurry back.”

His gaze burned her, reawakening the hunger that licked at her insides like flames.

“Oh, I will.”

T
HE RAIN HAD TURNED
into a downpour, and Uncle Virgil was pale and stiff with fatigue by the time Holly got him into bed with a cup of hot soup and made him promise to take a long nap.

She kissed his leathery cheek. “Uncle Virgil, are you okay?” she whispered.

He nodded and sighed. “My poor Bode. She was pretty today, wasn’t she.”

“She was beautiful,” Holly agreed. “Now, you drink that soup and sleep for a little while.”

“I miss her already.”

“I know. Me too.”

“What about you and Debi?”

“We’re just fine. Don’t you worry.” Holly turned out the lamp and stepped quietly over to the door.

“Holly?”

She turned back to look at him. At seventy-three, he was beginning to show his age. His hair was completely gray and his shoulders, which Holly always remembered as so broad, were bent and stooped. But his eyes were still sharp and his hands were still strong.

“You’ve been stuck here way too long. I’ll be police chief of Maze as long as I can do the job. And your sister is going to be fine.”

Holly nodded. “I know.”

Virgil took a sip of the hot broth, then cleared his throat. “You need to leave this town.”

She was shocked. “Uncle Virgil, are you telling me the town’s not big enough for the both of us?” she joked.

He shook his head. “Nope. I’m telling you it’s not big enough for you. You ought to go back with O’Hara to D.C. Get started on a family. Pay attention to your own needs for a change.”

Holly stared at her great-uncle, worry clouding her mind. Was he becoming forgetful? “Jack is here to find the stalker. When he does, he’ll go back to his job, and I’ll still be right here.” She deliberately kept her voice light. “Don’t forget, we’re not really married.”

“Oh, I think you are.”

Her face burned under his sharp scrutiny as her body remembered Jack’s lovemaking. “You need to take a nap, Uncle Virgil. You’re obviously overtired.”

“Don’t get smart with me, young lady. I know what I’m talking about,” Virgil said, as she closed the door.

Back in the living room, Debi had fixed two glasses of iced tea. “What was Uncle Virg saying?”

Holly shook her head. “He’s talking crazy. Saying Jack and I should leave town.”

“He’s right.” Debi traced a drop of condensation down the side of her glass.

“What?” Holly almost choked on a swallow of tea. “You want to get rid of me too? What is this, some kind of conspiracy?”

“You’ve been acting strange for a while now, but you and your hunky husband are obviously in love. And as long as you stay here, you’ll be teaching free aerobics classes, working too hard at the hospital, trying too hard to keep me on track, and spending too much time over here cooking supper for Uncle Virgil. If you don’t get out of Maze, you’re liable to lose your handsome hunk.”