Secure Target (Elite Operators) (20 page)

Lacey pulled in a deep breath, startled by the direction this conversation had taken. She wanted so badly to believe that she was even a fraction as important to Bronnik as Heloise seemed to think, but she couldn’t bring herself to climb aboard that fantasy. Not yet—not until she could be convinced that he still wanted her in his life if she didn’t have a security-related reason to be there. There were several big, expansive steps between mind-blowing sex in his bedroom and one of them deciding to move to the other side of the world.

“I appreciate where you’re coming from,” she said finally. “But I really don’t think I’m in a position to—”

The front door banged open and shut, heavy booted footsteps made their way across the living room and then there he was, filling the doorway to the kitchen.

“Nicky!” Heloise squealed, and darted across the room to throw her arms around his neck. Bronnik leaned down to embrace his sister and caught Lacey’s eye over her shoulder.

Silently she mouthed,
Nicky
?

He rolled his eyes.

“Hi, Heloise,” he said peevishly. His older sister pulled back to look at him, brushed a speck of something from his collar and began speaking in rapid Afrikaans.

With another glance at Lacey over Heloise’s head, Bronnik replied briefly in Afrikaans before nodding her way and reminding her, “We have a guest.”

Heloise spun around. “Of course, how rude of me,” she said apologetically. Lacey waved her hand to indicate she didn’t mind.

“Where are the boys?” Bronnik asked, lounging against the wall. Heloise resumed her seat at the table.

“Rugby practice. I have to pick them up in fifteen minutes.” Her face brightened with an idea. “You could come with me.” She turned to Lacey. “Uncle Bronnik is like a celebrity in my house. Even Santa Claus pales in comparison.”

Bronnik exhaled heavily, his face clouded with guilt and regret. “I’d love to, you know I would. But I’m still on an active investigation, and it’s probably safer if I stay away from them for now.”

Heloise’s face flashed disappointment, and then hardened into resignation. “Okay. I should probably get going anyway.” She rose, dragging her purse onto her shoulder. “I’ve left some groceries. There’s enough for pasta, or chili—but I’m sure Lacey can figure something out with what’s here.” The smile she shot Lacey transmitted her not-unkind, matter-of-fact expectation that the younger woman could—and would—take care of her brother. It was little more than a fleeting glance, but it made Lacey feel full of pride at her trust. She nodded, hoping her expression communicated as much.

Bronnik shrugged. “We might just order a pizza. Warren’s on his way.”

Heloise shook her head in playful disgust. “Typical. It was nice to meet you, Lacey,” she said warmly. She turned back to her brother and put a hand on his forearm. “You will stop by and see the boys while you’re in town, yes?”

Bronnik nodded, ushering her toward the door. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Once they were safely out the front door, Lacey scurried into the living room and peered through the window. She heard them speaking in Afrikaans as they made their way down the stairs. When they reached the side of Heloise’s sensible Volkswagen sedan, she stood in the open driver’s side door while they spoke. Lacey watched as she nodded toward the house and said something with a laugh that made him groan and shake his head. Heloise patted his arm reassuringly, and he shrugged and extended his hands in a helpless gesture. She shook her car keys, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek. She scooted into the seat, he shut her door, and then he waved as she drove off, his other hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans.

As Bronnik began to climb the steps back up to the house, Lacey scrambled into the kitchen, positioning herself at the table as if she hadn’t been spying.

He came into the kitchen wearing a sheepish smile. “So, that’s my sister.” He took the chair opposite hers.

“We’ve met,” she replied dryly, then grinned. “I’m kidding, she was really nice. We had tea.”

“She’s the easy one. You’re lucky Clara lives up in Pretoria. She’d want full fingerprints, birth certificate, your mother’s maiden name, criminal background check, everything.”

“They care about you a lot. There’s nothing wrong with that. If either of my brothers ever did anything that wasn’t entirely self-serving, I think I might die of shock.”

“I know, I know, I’m lucky. And most of the time I’m appropriately grateful.” He flashed a grin, and then his face grew serious. “My colleague, Warren Copley, should be here shortly. We can assume Hardy’s in the country by now, and although we’re hopeful he won’t have realized you’re here too, Warren’s going to stay at the house tonight anyway, as backup.”

“Where’s Thando?” She wasn’t entirely thrilled at the prospect of a complete stranger lurking around.

“Out working the case. I know it’s not ideal, but with jetlag I’m exhausted to the point of becoming useless. Warren will keep watch through the night so I can get some sleep. I’ve known him for years—he’s a good guy. You’ll like him.”

She nodded uncertainly. She supposed she had no room to argue.

“In the meantime,” Bronnik slapped his knee. “I want a kiss, Miss Cross.”

Giddy and somewhat relieved at his invitation, she scooted into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Bronnik’s mouth captured hers over and over, softly and tenderly, and then he tightened his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling more at home there than she ever had in her house back in Kansas.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his smooth baritone so quiet she could barely hear him. “It was only a few hours, but I missed you. I couldn’t wait to come back here and see you.”

“You sound surprised.” She closed her eyes against the warm hollow of his collarbone.

“I am. I’ve never felt like this before.”

Her throat constricted at his admission, and tears threatened behind her eyes. Her heart felt completely open, completely vulnerable, and it was at once terrifying and exhilarating. “Neither have I,” she whispered. “What are we going to do?”

“I have no idea.”

There was a knock on the front door, puncturing the reflective atmosphere. Wordlessly, Lacey rose and followed Bronnik through the living room. When he opened the door a man stood on the other side with his back to the house, scanning the street.

When he turned, she idly wondered if being handsome was a prerequisite to joining the Special Task Force. Warren Copley had thick black hair, a determined set to his features and strange, steely-gray eyes.

Bronnik introduced them, and Warren inclined his head in a detached greeting. He glanced around the room. “Let’s do a walkthrough of the house and identify any weak points in the layout.”

As Bronnik began to lead Warren around the perimeter of the room, Lacey felt overcome by weariness. She was tired of danger, tired of worry and tired of wondering how long this would all go on.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she announced. Bronnik nodded distractedly and Warren made no reply, as he was focused on testing the strength of the window frame. With a sigh, she trudged upstairs to the bathroom.

Bronnik sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Warren, and watched him take the clip out of his Glock, check it, then snap it back into place.

Warren put the weapon down. “What’s bothering you? You’ve got worry written all over your face.”

“Do I?” Bronnik asked idly. He hadn’t realized how deep he’d been in his own thoughts until Warren’s question jolted him out. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “At the risk of sounding pessimistic, I have a feeling something bad is coming. And no matter how much I rationalize, I can’t shake it.”

Warren gazed out the window, squinting in the pre-sunset glare. “Why try to rationalize? You’re right, something bad is coming. And he’s already killed four women.”

“Not Hardy himself, not exactly.” Bronnik struggled to organize his thoughts into words. “In a way, he should be on the back foot. He’s on the run, he’s injured, and his last two attempts on a victim’s life have failed.” He shook his head in frustration. “So why do I feel like I’m watching a big, black storm cloud come over the horizon, just waiting for it to reach me and pour down rain on my head?”

Warren reholstered the pistol on his hip, considering his answer. “As many security protocols as we can reasonably assemble are in place,” he said thoughtfully. “And as you say, Hardy should be on the back foot. In all likelihood he’ll take a couple of days to recuperate in his home territory, plan his next move.” He looked at Bronnik pointedly. “That said, you should never underestimate your instincts.”

“I’m not underestimating them. I’m just not sure what to do with them.”

Warren’s eyes flicked to the ceiling. “Maybe you should go upstairs and check on her.”

A cold fist of dread clenched in Bronnik’s stomach. Hardy couldn’t have—not while he was sitting downstairs. He had a sudden urge to leap to his feet and sprint up the stairs, but he forced himself to remain seated. “You’ll be okay for a while? On your own?”

“Of course,” his fellow officer replied patiently.

Bronnik needed no further incentive, and he bolted up the stairs. His mind churned with paranoia as he burst into the bedroom. The bathroom door was closed, and he heard the water running in the shower. With his heart pounding and his hand brushing the butt of the Beretta secured on his hip he slammed the door open, shaking it on its hinges as he called Lacey’s name.

She peeked out from behind the shower curtain, her eyes wide. “What? What’s wrong?”

He sagged against the wall. “Nothing. Nothing at all. I just thought I heard something,” he lied.

Her creased brow told him he must not look any better than he had downstairs. “I was just getting out. Would you grab me a towel?”

Bronnik heard the water switch off as he retrieved a large, fluffy bath sheet from the linen cupboard. When he turned, the shower curtain had been shoved to one side and Lacey stood in the bathtub, wearing nothing more than a playful smile.

His hands fisted in the soft cotton. Even as he felt the warm, tingling stir of arousal, his shoulders tightened with a creeping anxiety. He moved forward and wrapped the towel around her supple, enticing body and pulled her snugly enveloped form against his chest. His eyes closed as he tightened his grip, and he prayed fervently that he would be enough, that it was in him to keep her safe, that he had what it would take to keep this bright, precious flame burning.

“Bronnik,” she exclaimed in surprise as she pulled back, her trilling laugh undermined by the concern in her eyes. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“I need to get out of this house,” he muttered, realizing the truth in it as the words left his mouth. “Get dressed and we’ll go for a drive.”

When she came down the stairs fifteen minutes later he was pacing the living room, tossing and catching his car keys in one hand. In a light summer dress and flip-flops she looked like a cool breeze on a sweltering hot day, but Bronnik registered her appearance joylessly, preoccupied with his burgeoning sense of impending disaster.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come?” he asked Warren, who was sitting calmly on the sofa, a hardcover novel open on his knee.

His colleague shook his head. “If Hardy comes to the house, we’ll let him find me instead of you.” Warren’s cold smile was lethal. Lacey edged away from him uneasily.

“Right, let’s go.” Bronnik held out his hand to Lacey. She took it and together they made their way out to the Land Rover. When she was buckled into the seat beside him she looked over her shoulder at the house.

“I’m sure he’s a nice guy once you get to know him. But Warren just seems so…dangerous.”

“No more dangerous than I am,” he replied matter-of-factly, then reconsidered as he started the engine. “Although he does have some anger-management issues.”

“Great.” Her tone was flat and sarcastic, but when she turned to him, the enthusiasm was back in her voice. “So where are we headed?”

“I thought we’d just nip over the hill and have a walk on the beach. Camps Bay is good for catching the sunset.”

“Sounds amazing.” She grinned.

The Land Rover climbed the mountain passage that led from the City Bowl down to the coast. Balmy midsummer air blew through the open windows and stirred Lacey’s hair as she gazed out the window, one slim arm folded behind her head. He shifted gears as the road began to slope down to the beach, and as her sweet perfume mingled with the fresh scents of African flowers and salty sea air it occurred to him that this should be one of those moments to remember forever, one of those times when all of life’s threads wove together for a few seconds of utter bliss.

Instead he felt like a cold, clammy hand lay flat between his shoulder blades, clawing at his skin with ragged nails.

He parked on a quiet residential street, holstered the Beretta beneath his shirt at the small of his back, and with Lacey’s hand in his they made their way down to the beachfront.

He scanned their fellow beachgoers uneasily as they passed lively crowds overflowing from the row of open-fronted restaurants and bars that lined the far side of the road. Camps Bay was a nightlife hotspot and he cursed himself for not considering how busy it would be on a Saturday evening. He was about to suggest they head to one of the quieter areas a short drive down the coast when Lacey tugged him across the road, her eyes sparkling with delight.