Deadly Secrets, page 6
She and Jana cut through Fisher Park to Elm Street, and Rafe guided her close to the buildings and took a position on the street side. Caution flowed with the blood in her veins from years of precision training and live operations, and she constantly scanned for danger.
“You don’t talk much.”
Jana’s heels clopped on the sidewalk, and Rafe cringed as the announcement of their position echoed off the buildings. “Sorry, I’m just not much for small talk.”
Jana cocked her head and studied Rafe before speaking again. “Indulge me. I’m guessing you’re a serious introvert, few close friends, live a hermit’s life somewhere in the woods, and don’t really like people.”
“Nailed it.” Jana had no idea how close she’d come to the truth of Rafe. She wanted to like people but didn’t usually encounter the good ones in her line of work. Jana Elliott might be an exception, but Rafe couldn’t allow herself to find out, especially if Jana employed her.
Jana pointed to a huge tan and beige block building with expansive windows and a scrolling marquee. “Our new Steven Tanger Center for the Performing Arts. The outside is too blasé for my taste, but when it opens, we’ll see if the inside lives up to the hype. Do you go to concerts, plays, or shows?”
“Not really. Don’t like crowds.”
“How about open-air events?”
“Again, crowds, so no.” Jana waved to a park across the street, and Rafe noticed the snug fit of her suit and the curve of her waist and hips. Jana was almost as tall as Rafe but fuller in the right places while still firm. She shouldn’t be noticing any of that.
“Okay, nice talk,” Jana said jokingly as she swiped a fob in front of the door lock on a high-rise building. Rafe held the door for her, and Jana said, “Home sweet home.” She waved to the concierge. “Good evening, Jay. She’s with me. No car.”
Rafe scanned the entry cameras, other exits, and the monitoring equipment behind the concierge’s desk. When the elevator arrived, Jana again swiped her fob and pushed the button to the tenth floor. The doors closed, and Rafe’s skin prickled with conflicting sensations. Confined space. Limited egress. Jana’s subtle lavender perfume wafted into every crevice like the pervasive sand of the Arabian desert. She backed into the corner, but it didn’t help.
“You can only get to your own floor unless you’re accompanied by a resident, granted access by the concierge, or buzzed up with our Air-Phone system that has visual ID and entry code capability. Secure enough for you, Silva?”
Rafe forced her attention away from Jana’s distractions and back to the task at hand. “How many general staff have pass keys to the entire building? How many executives? How many employees of the offices downstairs?” Jana’s confident expression turned to doubt.
“I’m not sure.”
“How many people live on your floor? What are their names? Do they ever leave the stairwell door propped open for other guests in the building to visit?”
The space between Jana’s eyes wrinkled into double lines. “Uh, I don’t know.” When they reached her door, Jana raised her key to the lock.
“Wait. Always check if the door is locked before you try the key.”
Jana’s hand shook as she reached for and tested the handle. Locked. She turned the key and preceded Rafe inside, holding the door open for her.
Rafe held her breath. Was she ready for this? She second-guessed herself around Jana in neutral spaces like Bennett’s home, on the street, and in an elevator. Could she focus in the place infused with her essence? And why was Jana a problem? Maybe because Rafe had been around men most of her life and didn’t know how to act in the presence of a refined woman. She hadn’t dated anyone in years, so Jana’s femininity and confidence were especially appealing. Rafe blocked the unproductive thoughts and concentrated on the one thing that always kept her focused. The job.
Chapter Seven
Jana held her condo door open and studied Rafe in the moonlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Intimidating came to mind—hair the color of wet coal that absorbed the light and a body honed like a weapon. Jana shivered from the dangerous image and a hint of something else. What would it feel like to run her fingers along the shaved sides of Rafe’s hair and tug on the unruly curls that fell across her forehead? She shook away the image and reached for the light switch.
“Wait,” Rafe whispered. “Leave them off and stay here while I do a sweep.” She closed the door, ducked into the kitchen for a few seconds, and then disappeared down the hallway to the bedrooms. In a few minutes, she returned. “All clear. You can turn the lights on now.”
Jana flipped the switch and groaned. She’d walked out of her fuzzy bedroom slippers and discarded them near the front door. Her cereal bowl and open computer from this morning littered the kitchen island. Her favorite Sherpa blanket and lacy bra mocked her from the sofa where she’d abandoned them last night.
“Sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.” She kicked the shoes under the entry bench and hurried to retrieve the bra, her face and neck flushing with heat.
“Mind if I look around?”
“I thought you just did that.” She tucked the bra inside her suit jacket and shuffled awkwardly like she was the visitor.
“That was just a security check. Now, I need to do a proper assessment to see if the place is defensible…in the event you decide to hire me…if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure, but can I change clothes first? I’d love to get into something more comfortable.” Goddess, that sounded like a come-on.
Rafe shrugged. “It’s your place. I’ll work in here first.”
“If you want something to drink, I have sodas in the fridge, alcohol over the fridge, and glasses to the right of the sink. Help yourself. Sorry, no Gatorade.” Without waiting for a reply, she escaped to her bedroom and closed the door.
What did I’ll work in here first mean? The living, dining room, and kitchen were open with a floor-to-ceiling sliding door the only exit. Rafe could stand in one spot and assess all she wanted. Jana’s stomach knotted at a stranger rummaging through her condo—the place she loved and felt safe—and grading its deficits. She stripped off her work clothes and collapsed across the bed. Her skin was clammy, and her senses muddled. Too much had happened in such a short time and none of it made sense.
Rafe Silva rattled her nerves and made her pulse race. She was the type of woman Jana could be interested in…if. If Jana didn’t hire her. If Rafe wasn’t such a regimented ex-military specimen. If she ever talked about herself. If she was even vaguely interested. A question she hadn’t considered in years rushed to the surface. Would Rafe be interested in her? What kind of woman would appeal to her after an army career eating, sleeping, working, and fighting with mostly men? “One who drinks beer, burps, and farts aloud and tells sex jokes?” So not me. Stereotype much? She chuckled and pulled on a pair of American Airlines first-class pajamas and went back to the living area.
Rafe sat rigid in the straight-backed chair at the corner window scribbling in a small notepad. Her position allowed a view of the entire living space and the front door. She looked up when Jana returned. “May I check the bedrooms now?”
“All yours.” She squelched a flutter of unease by pouring herself a glass of wine as Rafe headed toward her bedroom. What would she think of the queen-sized bed cluttered with pillows, her colorful flip-and-pour paintings, and the work clothes piled on top of the old school desk ready for the cleaners? What would her choice of furniture, artwork, and accessories tell Rafe about Jana’s priorities and how she lived? What did it matter? She settled on the sofa and sipped her wine. Rafe would be in her life briefly, if at all after tonight.
When Rafe returned to the living area, she again took the chair by the window and flipped through her notepad. “Would you mind telling me why you like this place?”
Jana started to fire off a defensive answer, but the tight line of Rafe’s mouth and her narrowed eyes indicated she was still in evaluation mode. “If I can cook while we talk. I’m starving. Are you hungry?”
“I can always eat.”
“Is an omelet okay? It’s easy, filling, and total protein and veggies.” She moved to the kitchen and scrounged the ingredients from the refrigerator. When she turned around, Rafe was sitting at the island watching her.
“I’m not picky. I’ve survived on MREs most of my life.”
Jana chopped red and yellow peppers and onions and sautéed them in butter. “MREs?” She asked to mask the growling of her stomach.
“Meals ready to eat. Pre-packaged food like chili with beans, shredded beef in barbecue sauce, or chicken, egg noodles, and vegetables in mystery sauce. The list goes on. Filling but not tasty and predominately carbs for energy. Can I help with anything? I absolutely can’t cook, but I’m good at breaking things. Eggs maybe?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got this.” Jana cracked and whipped the eggs, poured them over the mixture, and sprinkled pepper jack cheese on top. “That’s the most you’ve said since we met. You have a very confident and soothing voice.” The truth was Rafe’s voice reminded Jana of sex by candlelight, sultry, inviting, and just raspy enough to cause goose bumps.
“Thanks, I think.” Rafe cleared her throat.
Had a simple compliment flustered Rafe? “If you want coffee, turn on the pot. The timing should be perfect. And grab a couple of plates and cups from the cabinet to the left of the sink.” She liked that Rafe offered to help and took direction without question. Maybe all that regimented training had its benefits. Rafe set the plates on the island but then just stared at Jana’s assortment of coffee cups. “Something wrong?”
“Do you have anything more…substantial? Reference my earlier comment about breaking things. These look fragile.”
“Sorry, soldier, no metal cups or plates here.” Jana chuckled. “Just pick one and do your worst. None of them are priceless heirlooms.”
Rafe filled two cups with coffee and resettled at the island. “Back to the question.”
“And just when I was starting to enjoy your company.” Jana plated the food, slid one across to Rafe, and ate standing up. “Yes, why I like it here. I always wanted to live in a vibrant downtown with entertainment venues, restaurants, and people. Living in the middle of nowhere would drive me insane. I get the morning light and practically never lower the shades, even in the bedroom. Who can spy on me ten floors up? I also appreciate the lock-and-leave capability because I love to travel. The building is relatively secure, and there’s only one door into my condo. The staff is friendly, helpful, and keeps the place immaculate. I have choices during downtown events—avoid them entirely by staying inside, enjoy them from my balconies, or immerse myself in the action on the street. What’s not to love about my condo? Wait, I bet you’re about to tell me.”
Rafe referenced the notes she’d placed beside her plate. “The building entry isn’t awful, as long as no one follows you in or hitches with another tenant to your floor. The staff would have to be vetted and all entry fobs accounted for. I’d want a list of the residents on your floor so I could check them out.” She raised her eyebrows as if asking permission to continue.
“Go ahead.”
“I would prefer the shades be down at all times, and I’d need to post myself in this room with eyes on the entry and hallway to your room. I’m not sure how you envision this arrangement working during the day since you suspect your boss isn’t being entirely honest.”
Jana dropped her fork and it clattered on her empty plate before falling to the floor. “I’d forgotten about that.” How would she explain the handsome soldier to anyone in the office, but especially her intuitive assistant, Camille? Rafe’s demeanor, her posture, even the way she spoke telegraphed intrigue, intensity, military. It would take years of reintegration before Jana could sell Rafe as a civilian. “Can’t you just stake out the building? We’re talking about a multinational corporation, not the mafia.”
“They’re called bodyguards for a reason.” Rafe finished her omelet and collected the empty plates. “I’ll clean up.”
“Not a chance. Sit. Think about how to sell someone like you”—she waved her hand up and down in front of Rafe—“to a group of touchy-feely types in my office. I’ll just pop these in the dishwasher.”
“You like to take care of people, don’t you?”
The observation caught her off guard. She hadn’t expected any degree of personal evaluation from Rafe, but she was pleasantly surprised. “It’s what I do, just like you do…whatever you do. Rescue, I’m guessing. I’m all about the human relations aspect of things.” She hadn’t thought herself so transparent, but Rafe drilled to the heart of who she was—a caregiver. Rafe Silva was more complex and interesting than Jana first imagined.
Maybe she was simply intrigued by Rafe’s mystique. When you know nothing about a person, anything seems possible. She knew little about Rafe, while she knew too much about her—her job, where she lived, how messy she could be, that she could cook, liked taking care of people, slept with women, and possibly her bra size—everything except the type of woman she preferred, and she might’ve intuited that as well.
Jana busied herself with the cleanup. What was she thinking? This could never work, personally or professionally. Fergus would suspect a stranger in the company of being a spy for the merger, or worse, for the opposition. Her social life would become unrecognizable, and her friends would likely abandon her. She finished tidying and returned to the sofa. “This probably isn’t a very good idea. A bodyguard will signal the CEO that I’m going against his wishes and fear retaliation.”
“Why don’t you sleep on it? Weigh the pros and cons, and if you still want to employ me, think about how I might blend in at your office. You know your company. In the meantime, I’ll get out of your way.”
“We haven’t discussed your fee.”
“That’s another thing that might be prohibitive. I’m very expensive. Being a bodyguard means no off time, unless you want to hire a relief person, and requires total commitment to the protectee. That kind of obligation isn’t cheap.”
Jana liked the sound of total commitment to the protectee and for a second imagined the things she might possibly command her bodyguard to do. “Does that mean you’d have to do whatever I told you?”
The corners of Rafe’s mouth rose, but she checked herself and brushed at the curls that fell across her forehead. “You’d have to obey me. Can you handle that?”
Jana’s breath stuck in her throat at the thought of obeying the sexy Rafe Silva in another succession of arousing possibilities. “Might be an interesting test.”
“Think about it. Women in powerful positions don’t always adjust well to taking orders.” Rafe rose and put her coffee cup in the dishwasher. “Thank you for dinner. It was an unexpected but much appreciated bonus. I’ll leave my number on the pad by the entry.”
Rafe headed toward the door, and with each step, Jana’s pulse quickened. She’d provoked Fergus today with information she didn’t have. Not her brightest move. And the talk about security, vetting staff, and ways to violate what she considered her sanctuary unnerved her. “I don’t suppose you’d stay?”
Rafe turned back, her forehead furrowed. “Have I frightened you?”
“Maybe just gave me a reality check.” Did she suddenly feel unsafe in her own home? Had Rafe’s observations scared her, or was she seeing life through a different lens and realizing another possibility? “But I haven’t hired you, have I? And you didn’t bring any clothes, did you? Or your tools? Where would you sleep? Am I creating a problem?”
Rafe stared at Jana from her position by the door as if searching for something specific. She cocked her head to the right, appraising with those dark eyes that made Jana feel exposed and yet strangely calm.
She tried to blank her expression, but Rafe’s gaze was too intense. An inspection that close deserved less space so Jana walked toward Rafe. For the first time, Jana noticed the fullness of her lips, the flecks of gold in her brown eyes, and a jagged scar near her hairline partially covered by errant curls. She cleared her throat. “Wh—what?”
“I asked if you always jabber like an automatic weapon when you’re nervous?”
All Jana could do was nod. How could a single look make her feel simultaneously vulnerable and safe?
“No, you haven’t hired me, yet. I did bring clothes.” She hefted the backpack over her shoulder. “Necessary tools included. The recliner is fine if you’d allow me to turn it toward the door. I don’t sleep much anyway. And you haven’t begun to create problems yet, Ms. Elliott. Would you like me to stay?”
Jana prided herself on handling problems and taking care of people, not the other way around, but something about Rafe Silva said maybe just this once she could be the receiver. She released a deep breath. “Yes, please.”
“Done.”
“Thank you. I’ll get a blanket and pillow. The guest bathroom is all yours.” Jana’s pulse returned to normal. When had she become so afraid? She was usually so capable and self-assured. Yesterday, she wouldn’t have invited a stranger to spend the night with her, and today, it felt right. Was Fergus’s secret worth the disruption to her life, her peace of mind, and safety? If people were at risk, it was worth whatever she had to do to expose the truth.
Chapter Eight
Rafe stirred from a catnap before the sun topped the horizon and assessed her surroundings out of habit. She listened before opening her eyes, inhaled the air and tasted it on her tongue, and then visually scanned for threats. High-rise condo. Two possible points of attack. Secure and currently danger free. She imagined relaxing in the unfamiliar environment, enjoying the sky and clouds, no grass or water at her disposal, and growing tolerant of the sounds of traffic and people below on the street, but the only thing that felt right about this place was the woman who occupied it.
