Bodyguard Reunion Page 7

  Tall, his posture straight, almost rigid, he stared outside again, his hands stuffed into his pockets. She studied his hard profile, part of it in the dark, and wished she could read his thoughts. He could still affect her, even when she steeled herself against his charms.

  “Have you ever wondered what would have happened to us if you had gone to Washington?” he said, finally breaking the silence.

  “Have you wondered what would have happened to us if you had turned down the job to guard the vice president and stayed in Dallas?”

  He dipped his head. “Touché. And to answer your question, yes, I have thought about it.”

  Her eyes grew round. “What?”

  “It wouldn’t have worked out. You needed to stay and take care of your mother. If you hadn’t, you would have been resentful that I took you away. And if I had turned down the position, I would have become resentful, wondering what opportunities I had passed over because I didn’t take the job. We were both young and trying to find a place in our field. We weren’t ready for that kind of commitment.”

  Are we now? Will you ever be ready to let go of our distrust and fear? She wanted to ask that question, but bit the inside of her cheek to keep the words inside her. “You left the Secret Service early. Do you regret being an agent?”

  He swung around with several feet still between them. “Yes and no.”

  She waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, she examined the planes of his jaw line. “That’s a complete answer?”

  “Let me ask you if you regretted being a Dallas police officer. I thought you would make a career out of being one, but you only remained one five years after I left.”

  “I stayed because of my mother. After Dad died, she moved from Houston to Dallas because she needed her family and I was it. I think she knew something was wrong with her. Not long after she came, she got sick.”

  “Yeah, I remembered when we started dating she’d just moved to Dallas and was staying with you.”

  “I’m glad I had that time with her. If I hadn’t, I would have regretted it. I was the only family Mom could turn to.”

  “Why did you quit the force? You were good at what you did. I could see you moving up the ranks quickly.”

  “I made detective and was excited that I could work on homicides. My mother had passed away from a reoccurrence of her cancer about six months before that and I thought a change was what I needed. Day in and day out was too much for me.” For a moment, surprise gripped her. She’d never given an indication that too much death was taking the life out of her. “I left because I needed more in a job than it could provide. How about you?”

  “Yes.” He paused, as though trying to compose what he said next. “It was pretty much that for me, too.”

  His evasive tone indicated he was holding something back. Her curiosity piqued, she wanted to ask him what, but instead said, “Not being a human shield? Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

  “Yes, but we have a say in who we protect and more control over the situation. With that said, I have something I need to tell you.”

  She tensed. “This doesn’t sound good. What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve proposed to Kyra to buy into Guardians, Inc. Today she expressed interest. I believe she’ll take me up on my proposition. She wants more time at home, especially since the new baby is coming soon.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you work there. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable about the situation.”

  “And if I was?” She held her breath waiting for his answer because this was her job—a good one with an added bonus she felt she was helping people in need.

  “Then I would look for something else. I’m not tied to Dallas. I have connections in other cities.”

  The thought that he would move away again if she said she was uncomfortable bothered her. Why wouldn’t he fight for her? Change her mind? She’d known Kyra was pulling back from the agency, that her family was demanding more of her time. Her taking on a partner wasn’t a surprise but a logical step for her employer. But that would mean T.J. would be her boss. How did she feel about that? Maybe it was time to make a change, possibly even in her job. She’d been thinking more about that lately.

  “Chloe?”

  There was a wealth of inquiry in that one word. Seeing him again, being around him, she had begun to realize what kind of relationship they could have after the assignment was over. Could they return to the way it had been in the past? She needed to say something to him, but... “I don’t have an answer for you. We have history. Although I know you wouldn’t intend for it to stand between us, it might.”

  “Fair enough. This may be a moot point. I don’t have a definite answer from Kyra. We’ll talk about it when we finish protecting Paul and Mary. I told you now because I didn’t want any secrets between us. Not that my interest in Guardians, Inc., is a secret, just not public knowledge.” His mouth curved into a smile.

  “Good partners are honest with each other.”

  “Agreed, and that’s why I appreciate your honest opinion about the situation.”

  In that moment, something shifted in this new relationship between her and T.J. In the past, she’d never felt totally on equal footing with him. He’d been her team leader on a big counterfeit case she’d worked on as an undercover operative. Even when they’d started dating, always in the back of her mind had been the fact he was older and a more experienced law enforcement officer. She hadn’t been a rookie, but close enough.

  For the first time she felt on equal footing—what would happen if he became her boss?

  “Over the years I’ve learned to stand up for myself and give my opinion. I’ve changed.” Nine years ago she hadn’t been fully honest until the end of their relationship when she’d refused to go to Washington and stayed to help her mother.

  “I’ve noticed. I’ve changed, too. More mellow.”

  “Mellow? Not from where I am,” she said with a chuckle. “You rushed right out the door to catch the intruder a couple of nights ago.”

  His laugh filled the air. “You aren’t going to let me forget that. You got the better end of that deal.”

  “Yes, and now I’m grateful for that. But at the time I wanted to clobber you.” She tried to force the tight muscles in her neck and shoulders to relax, but it wasn’t working.

  “That’s okay. I got clobbered by Artie Franklin. And speaking of that reporter, Kyra said he’s still remaining quiet about his informant. She’s going to dig into his life and see what she finds.”

  “If anyone can get him to talk, it will be Kyra. Anything else?” What really made you quit the Secret Service?

  “Nothing really. Matthews can’t find the car that was parked next to the limo at the church. The driver is fully recovered, but can’t give us any more information. Kyra is checking into his past, too, to make sure he wasn’t in on it.”

  “Could he be the leak to the reporter?” Weariness blanketed Chloe, and she turned to lean against the windowsill.

  “Kyra mentioned that. It’s possible, but for some reason doesn’t feel right to me. You should get some rest. I’ll take the first watch tonight.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He moved closer and put his hands on her shoulders. “Definitely. You’re wound tight. I can feel the knots.”

  “I get like this during an assignment. All my stress ends up on my shoulders.”

  “Turn around. Let me see what I can do.”

  When she did as he said, his fingers kneaded the base of her neck and along her shoulders, working to ease the tension. Bit by bit it fell away. “You’re hired. No matter what I do, I always feel this tense after a few days on a job. I’ve tried putting heat there, but your massage is much better.”

  “It’s because those knots ha
ve to be broken up.”

  A sigh slipped from her lips. “When did you get so good?”

  “This can be pretty common in our line of work. Our stress has to go somewhere.”

  “Where does yours go?”

  “Into sleepless nights.”

  Finally, she swung around, needing to put some space between them. “I think I got the better deal. I need my sleep, which is my cue to leave and get some before it’s my turn to stand guard. Thanks.”

  “Good night, Chloe. See you in four hours.”

  She left T.J. standing at the window, staring out front again. At the doorway, she looked back at him, rubbing her hand over her neck and shoulder. The deep ache had vanished, but not the questions their conversation had raised. They both had changed in nine years. He wasn’t the same man she had fallen in love with once, and she wasn’t the same woman. That should be reason enough to guard against his appeal.

  * * *

  Standing backstage at a downtown hotel with a theater-style auditorium, Chloe watched the throng filling up the large area—a sea of red chairs with almost two thousand people in them. Rob Matthews was in the dressing room waiting with Mary and Paul for the crowd to be seated. At least the couple had agreed to come early and not to use the main entrance into the building after hearing that the driver in the blue van hadn’t been legit and the rental had had a GPS tracker attached to it.

  All the uniformed police watching the auditorium, double the number after yesterday, had a drawing of the driver, which Chloe thought looked remarkably like the man she’d seen.

  She studied the audience as they filed into the massive room through the main sets of doors in the back while T.J. positioned himself on the other side and observed the individuals coming through the right entrance. Rob thought it would be better if they scanned the crowd while he stayed with the couple because they had seen the driver yesterday.

  As much as she wished she saw the perpetrator in the auditorium, not one person looked similar. That didn’t mean he wasn’t here somewhere, disguised. The sheer numbers entering made it impossible to be sure he wasn’t among them. And no amount of trying to persuade the Zimmermans to cancel had worked.

  The lights dimmed two minutes before Mary and Paul were expected on stage. The people, most still standing, moved to their seats. Mary and Paul would speak for an hour, then sign books at the table set up for them in the lobby. A copy of their most recent book had been included as part of the ticket sale. Probably not everyone would want an autograph, but enough would that it would be hours before they left for the security of the safe house. Then they would repeat it all in San Antonio, their next stop.

  Paul joined T.J. while Rob escorted Mary to Chloe’s side of the stage. The lights came back up and the couple strolled onto the stage with Chloe and T.J. closely behind them. A story had run on the news the day before about the fact the Zimmermans had two bodyguards because of threats made against them, and still the whole auditorium was crammed with people eager to hear their message, to fight for their families, their communities, to stand up to gangs and criminals who wanted to defy them.

  As before, Chloe took the right side while T.J. canvassed the left side. The bright lights shining in their faces made the task difficult. Paul began speaking, then Mary. Throughout their talk the audience erupted into applause at different points.

  “This is our country. We’d better determine what is acceptable and not let just the vocal people determine it. The silent majority has a responsibility not to be silent any longer,” Paul said about halfway through the talk.

  The people rose, cheering, the sound deafening. Chloe tensed. This would be a good time to make a move. But within minutes the crowd took their seats and silence ruled as Mary spoke.

  A woman in the back of the front section screamed. Red smoke billowed into the air from the center section while from behind the curtains smoke flooded the stage as the audience surged to their feet, yelling. Chloe grabbed Mary’s arm while T.J. took Paul’s. The people from behind the stage poured out of there, running away with the fleeing crowd as red smoke rolled and swelled from the back, too.

  Chloe started for the steps when she caught sight of Rob carrying a woman from behind the curtain. Her long curly dark hair flowed over the detective’s arm, her face turned toward his chest.

  “There’s another one down near the dressing rooms. I think these are smoke bombs, but we need to get out of here in case there’s something else coming,” Rob shouted.

  T.J. looked at Chloe.

  “Go. Rob’s here,” Chloe said, moving between Paul and Mary on the far right by the stairs leading to the theater floor.

  Paul wrenched away from Chloe’s grasp. “I’m going with T.J. There may be more hurt backstage. Please make sure that Mary gets out all right.”

  “No, Paul. I’ll stay and help, too.”

  He swung around and took hold of Mary. “Get out of here.” Then he hurried after T.J.

  Chloe started after him, but Rob blocked her passage. “You and Mary need to leave with me. I’ll get some help back here.”

  “I can’t leave. What if...” Mary’s eyes glistened.

  Reddish-gray smoke continued to roll across the stage like dense fog, its stench spreading. Chloe tightened her hold on her client. “T.J. will take care of Paul. Let’s go.”

  Mary didn’t resist, but kept looking back while Chloe focused on a way out of the theater—the nearest exit was a third of the way to the back of the theater. She kept Mary close to her. All around Chloe, the mob tried cramming through the few exits—two sets on the sides and another two in the back, six double doors with two thousand individuals hurrying to leave.

  Mary gasped and all color drained from her face. Chloe glanced back. Flames licked up the curtains on the left side of the stage—where T.J. and Paul had disappeared.

  SIX

  T.J. turned and saw the burning curtain fall onto the stage and the blaze engulf the material. Flames ran across the stage, completely cutting them off from getting out of the theater from that direction. That left only one other—the backstage door, which felt like riding into an ambush.

  “We’ll check the dressing room area. Start praying that the back door isn’t blocked.” Coughing, T.J. used the crook of his elbow to cover his nose and mouth, his eyes stinging.

  Paul did likewise, staying right at his side as T.J. plunged into the smoky air. Up ahead through the haze, he saw a figure lying on the floor. T.J. increased his pace, and when he reached the prone body, he knelt and felt for a pulse. With coughs racking his body, Paul squatted next to T.J.

  “He’s alive. Help me get him up and we’ll drag him between us.” T.J. hoisted the obese man up by the left side while Paul took the right.

  “Why isn’t the sprinkler system working?” Paul shouted over the crackling noise of the fire.

  “Good question.” Sweat rolling down his face, T.J. started again for the back of the theater. With a look over his shoulder, he spied the fire moving away from him but toward the audience—and Chloe and Mary.

  At the door, T.J. slammed his hand down on the bar to open it. Nothing happened. The lever didn’t budge. Locked?

  * * *

  Someone in front of Chloe went down, tripping over another person who’d fallen. With Rob carrying the unconscious woman, Chloe and Mary were left to grab the two on the floor and pull them up before the stragglers behind them ran them over. One man leaped over Chloe, barely missing her and the young lady she was helping. An older gentleman plowed into Mary and sent her flying into the teenage girl trying to get up with her assistance. They both went down again. Chloe managed to haul the woman to her feet before she turned her attention to her client and the teen.

  All the while heat, smoke and flames headed their way faster than the people could move through the exits. She would
be a fool not to be afraid, but she didn’t have time to give in to her fear. She could when she got Mary outside.

  The sound of something crashing onto the stage spurred the mob to hurry even more. The pounding of her heartbeat thundered against Chloe’s skull. Smoke from the fire reached outward, engulfing the whole theater.

  * * *

  “Let’s put him down and both of us try to open the door. It’s not locked. It seems like something is blocking it,” T.J. said right before a ceiling beam ten yards away from them collapsed onto the stage. “No wonder everyone fled out of the stage area.”

  Coughing, Paul dropped the man, who slid down, almost taking T.J. with him. He released his hold before they were a tangled mess on the floor.

  Facing Paul, T.J. said, “One, two, three.”

  Both slammed their shoulders into the metal door. It inched open.

  Again T.J. and Paul struck it. Fresh air blew in from the small gap and fueled T.J.’s determination to budge whatever was on the other side—but also fed the fire with oxygen.

  The third attempt moved the obstruction enough that T.J. squeezed his shoulder through the space and poked his head outside. The big Dumpster had been dragged in front of the door. The stench of garbage mixed with the smell of smoke. The wail of sirens echoed down the alley. Police and a couple of firefighters charged toward them.

  Relieved, T.J. ducked back in, staying next to Paul low to the ground. “Help is coming.” When he heard the Dumpster being moved, he said, “Let’s get this guy up, so when the door can open all the way, we can get him out into the fresh air.”

  As Paul helped him hoist the huge man up, he looked at T.J. over the top of the victim’s head. “We’ll be all right, but what about Mary and Chloe?”

  T.J. stared at the wall of fire edging its way toward them, seeking the fresh air. “They’re fine,” he said and prayed to the Lord he was right. Chloe and Mary are in Your hands. He didn’t know what he would do if something happened to Chloe—or Mary.