Guarding Miranda (14 page)

“Miranda’s going to be so upset.” His wife was trembling visibly as she looked about the ruined room. “Her things… her photos… Russ, she loves those photos!”

“There might be some footage of them coming in on the surveillance cameras.” Russ mused aloud.

Nancee shuddered. “It’s a good thing Miranda wasn’t here. Imagine if she had been here alone, Russ. Imagine if she had…”

Nancee’s voice drifted off.

The possibilities were too horrible to consider.

“Call the police on the house line,” said Russ, taking out his cell phone. “Tell them to get over here.”

He dialed a number from his phone’s recent memory.

“Who are you calling?” Nancee was pale with fright.

He glanced up at her with firm resolve.  “Brian Logan.”

                                                            *          *          *

Brian took the first flight out to Winnipeg from San Francisco on Wednesday, the morning of June sixteenth and then the same path Miranda had taken, from Winnipeg to Dauphin.  Like Miranda, he too had an encounter with Earl at
Mountainview Rentals
, only his Ford Focus was green in color and a year older than hers.  Like her, he followed a map that Russ had drawn out, detailing the turns he would have to take once he got to the small town of Waterhen.

It was a little after six thirty that night when he passed her burgundy rental car on the North Mallard Road. 

He was certain it was her.

There was no mistaking that striking beauty, even in spite of the large sunglasses she wore. He tried to glance at her in his rear view through the dust cloud that her passage had created on the gravel road. 

He wondered where she was going – to the store, perhaps? 

He fought the urge to follow her, heading instead to Gundy’s cabin.

Wherever she was going, she would be back soon.

His instincts told him that he was right.

His instincts were almost always right. 

What his gut was telling him now was that he was crazy to have answered Russ Gundy’s pleas with an affirmative
yes, I’ll leave on the first morning flight out
... 

Even crazier to be looking forward to seeing Miranda again, when all he had to deliver to her was bad news and badgering. 

Badgering, that’s what his last unwilling assignment had called his guard detail. 

Incessant badgering
, if he remembered correctly. 

He knew with near certainty that Miranda was going to be unwilling.  She was known to be an independent woman with a stubborn edge to her that had amused him from a distance but would be an obstacle for him to deal with, first hand.

It was thankless work, being a bodyguard. 

You were damned if you did your job right and damned if you didn’t. 

Not that he was going to mind guarding Miranda. 

She was very, very easy on his eyes. 

And ears. 

And general disposition…

And the fragrance she wore – damn, how feminine...

Hell, his whole body warmed with the thought of how much he looked forward to being reunited with her!

He approached the lone driveway slowly and noted the
Gundy
sign, in wrought-iron letters on the open gate. 

Perfect. 

He’d made it. 

Slowing the car, he turned down the driveway and it wasn’t long before he spotted the cabin through the trees. 

Grand eloquence, the place was, especially for a cabin. 

But then, Gundy did like his expensive toys…

It was a grand complex of tasteful design, reminding him of a ski chalet he’d seen in Colorado. 

Two levels worth of stained wood and windows.

He got out and opened one of the doors of the two car garage and parked his Focus on the left, leaving Miranda ample room on the right.

It might alarm her, seeing a second car there but from the lack of trail up to the garage he was certain she wasn’t using the garage.

Yet.

The task of parking finished, he decided to let himself into the house.

Miranda hadn’t left the cabin’s alarm armed.

Which apparently had also been Lynn Gundy’s bad habit, which was the reason the alarm hadn’t been triggered during the break-in the previous night: it couldn’t be triggered if it wasn’t set.

“Women,” he muttered under his breath.

There was enough light coming from outside that he didn’t have to flick on the lights to see more of the expensive masculine taste in the interior of the cabin.

Noting the door near the closet at the entrance, that would no doubt lead to the basement, Brian instead followed the stairs that would lead him up to the second level. 

He was no more surprised to see the trophies of dead animals on the walls than he was by the huge Jacuzzi tub in the large bathroom.  It was more of a hot tub, really, with room for two adults...

He couldn’t help the adult notions that crossed his mind at the thought. 

He tried to dismiss those notions as soon as they bubbled to the surface of his mind. 

As much as he liked her, he was a professional, here to do a serious job and he knew that he was much better off remembering that.

He went to the kitchen and checked the stainless steel fridge.

She had stocked it with only a few items. 

Meat, milk and some vegetables, a dozen eggs, yogurt...

Was she perhaps gone to the small store he had seen on the way in, to get more supplies? 

It was a possibility. 

Had she already made friends here, gone for a visit? 

Perhaps...

Or had she found herself another boyfriend, so soon after Richard?

Some local yokel farmer type with tight denim jeans, plaid work shirt unbuttoned to his navel and a green John Deere cap who used “Howdy ma’am?” and “Yes ma’am!” generously?

Somehow, that didn’t seem likely... 

But who could say for sure? 

Miranda was a beautiful girl, intelligent enough and from the sounds of Russ’ warnings as stubborn as a mule when she had her mind set on something... 

From the conversation Brian had with Russ, it seemed like Miranda was going to hate being guarded.

Russ had hoped she would see the sense in it and see the truth in what Brian had to tell her. 

The break in at the Gundy residence had changed Nancee’s mind and sobered Lynn to the situation. 

Brian was to show Miranda the photographs and DVD he had made, revealing the true nature of her former fiancé.  Russ had balked when Brian suggested that
he
be the one show his own niece the pictures, rather than Brian.

Brian’s suggestion was that it would be better for her to hear it from family, rather than a stranger. 

Russ had countered that it would be more painful to hear it from the family that had deceived her for so long. Better to hear it from the horse’s mouth, the man who had uncovered the grim details himself. 

And so, without enthusiasm, Brian had agreed.

He’d be the one to tell Miranda.

He just didn’t know how to do it. 

That and he didn’t want to do it.

It was going to crush her heart.

He recoiled inwardly at doing anything that was going to hurt her.

As much as he hated Richard, hated how close the louse had gotten to getting her killed, hated the insidious plans that he had laid for her, he didn’t want to be the one to bring it all to light.

Brooding over this idea and unsure of how much time he had at his disposal, until she got back, he inspected the property quickly, getting oriented with the place. 

Finished with the first floor, he decided to check out the basement, from the door in the foyer.  He opened it, went downstairs, saw the small office, the small bathroom, the huge snooker table in what was likely the rec room. 

It was cooler down here and he spotted the air conditioner in one of several small windows that adorned the walls. 

He also saw the gun cabinet, where the rifles were displayed.   He wondered how it was that Russ felt secure enough with his possessions to leave them unattended for most of the year. 

He was awfully trusting of his neighbors, it would seem, having only the one dinky little alarm guarding the doors on the first level. 

It wasn’t even rigged to cover the windows…

He left the basement for the main floor. 

With as light of footsteps as a man of two hundred and thirty pounds of muscle could manage he walked up the stairs to the second floor where he found a second guest bedroom that was no big deal, done in shades of blue.

Next to it was the master bedroom.

Currently, the lady’s quarters.

The thought brought a smile to his lips. 

This guest bedroom would be where he would stay.

He dropped his duffel bag on the blue carpeted floor.

If anyone came through the front or back doors he’d have the element of surprise from the level above. 

Not that Brian expected anyone to have tracked her this far north but anything was possible.

He entered the master bedroom.

He had caught a whiff of Miranda’s perfume downstairs but her scent was stronger here. 

Her few toiletries covered the small vanity in the corner and a robe of dark green silk lay across the pillows of the quilt covered bed. 

He walked over to the closet, slid open the mirrored door and found her suitcase stashed away, clothing neatly hung on hangers. 

He checked the boudoir and the dressers, found her undergarments and smiled to himself, clearly amused as he pulled out a pair of red satin panties with lace trim all around. 

He ran his thumb over the satin and lace and imagined her wearing them: imagined her trim, flat stomach, shapely derriere and long, sexy legs. 

He wondered if there was a matching bra.

“Sorry, Miranda but I’ve just
got
to know.”

Curiosity got the best of him and so he poked around some more, until he found it.  He let his fingers linger a moment over the C cups of the brassier before checking the tag. 

Thirty-six C. 

His favorite size...

Feeling like a pervert, he tore himself away from impure thoughts of fancy and closed the dresser drawer with a sigh. 

He walked back down the stairs and went to one of two overstuffed armchairs in the living room, the one with its back to the stairs and a view of the front entrance. 

It was here that he waited for her to return. 

Waited, waited and waited some more. 

Brian Logan was a patient breed of man...

                                                            *          *          *

Miranda was introduced to her neighbors, the Clarions, shortly after the potluck supper began. 

The Tysons were there, having shut the Tyson Prairie Emporium down an hour early to attend.  She was introduced to Betty’s husband George, who was a pleasant man of at least fifty and wore his brown hair in a long dark ponytail.

George had been one of many men who had joined her uncle Russ in his hunting expeditions over the years. 

He even remembered Miranda’s father from the year he had joined this guide’s brother for some deer hunting. 

Her father had
tagged
a two year old male, with
a nice rack
, whatever that was.

She assumed that it meant the head trophy that hunters tended to take.