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  Her night of skyrockets in flight so long ago with Jack Sanders—and she definitely wasn’t going there now. Sex and assault rifles were not a good mix.

  KELLY’S SORREL CANTERED next to the palomino in a scene that could have come straight from a Norman Rockwell painting. Jack seemed bigger than life in the saddle, taller than he looked on foot, masculine and commanding.

  Alex, on the other hand, looked more petite than ever, with her tiny hands lying over Jack’s larger ones. He was good with kids. She wondered if he missed not having any of his own.

  Or maybe he had children. He didn’t wear a wedding band, and the ranch showed no signs of a woman’s touch, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t ever been married.

  The thought bothered her, and she pushed it from her mind. Unfortunately the thoughts that took its place were even more disturbing.

  She hadn’t been on a horse, but on the back of Jack’s Harley the night they’d taken the wild ride up Canyon Road. She’d pressed against his back as he’d taken the sharp curves, going dangerously fast on an all-but-deserted mountain road.

  But the hammering of her heart had nothing to do with fear. Her hormones had been literally exploding inside her, and she’d thought she’d die from the thrill of it all.

  A thrill she didn’t need now. She pushed her sorrel into a gallop, and threw her sexual frustrations into the ride and the biting wind in her face. She didn’t know where she was going and didn’t really care. She just held on and let the sorrel run.

  When the horse finally stopped, she was as out of breath as if she’d been doing the work. Breathless, but feeling much better than she had minutes ago. The exhilarating ride had dissolved some of the tension, leaving her warm yet tingly on the inside.

  She had no idea how to get back to the ranch house, but she knew Jack and Alex would show up soon. With the high-tech equipment he had on the Single S, he could probably track and find a beetle.

  She dismounted and tied her mount, then stretched and took off her gloves. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since last night’s dinner. Luckily she’d thrown together some food while Alex had dallied at putting on her warm socks and boots.

  Just as Kelly started unpacking the fare, she heard a neigh followed by Alex’s high-pitched laughter.

  “What took you guys so long?” she teased as Jack dismounted and helped Alex from the palomino.

  “We would have hurried if we’d known there was food waiting.”

  “Just sandwiches,” she said. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m a man. I’m always hungry.”

  “What kind of sandwich?” Alex asked, always a little anxious about what she might be asked to eat.

  “Peanut butter and jelly, what else?”

  “Goody.”

  Jack’s eyebrows arched. “Did you find that in my cupboard?”

  “No, your choices were limited to potato chips and microwave popcorn. I always carry the essentials when I travel with Alex. Even the most luxurious and costly hotels don’t always have the staples required by a four-year-old.”

  “Nice thing about being a cowboy,” Jack said. “The restaurants at even the cheapest hotels usually have beer.”

  “So you’re a beer man?”

  “Pretty much. Maybe a bourbon now and then, but none of that fancy stuff with umbrellas bobbing around in the glass.” He looped Ishwar’s reins around the limb of a hackberry tree near where Kelly had tied the sorrel.

  “There’s a creek just beyond those trees and some softer earth,” Jack said. “It’s a great picnic spot.”

  “Lead on.”

  Kelly surveyed the area, then spread the large napkins from her bag as makeshift place mats. Alex’s sandwich was cut into four triangles the way she liked it. The other two sandwiches were halved. Jack pulled three bottled waters from his knapsack and placed one on each napkin.

  “Cool,” she said. “Always nice to have something to rinse the peanut butter from the roof of my mouth.”

  Jack dropped to the cold ground and propped his back against the trunk of a tree. “There’s a market close to PPS headquarters that delivers. You can make a list on the way into town, and the groceries will be ready and waiting when we head back to the ranch.”

  Apprehension hit again. “I didn’t realize we’d be leaving the ranch.”

  “Just a quick trip to PPS.”

  “I’m still recovering from our last trip.”

  “There won’t be a repeat.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “The perp will need time to regroup, and there’s a secret back entrance from the ranch along back roads. No one will see us leave and no one will know our schedule. It would be all but impossible to intercept us.”

  “You do think of everything, don’t you?”

  “Right, so trust me.”

  She was trying, but the thought of getting back in his car set her nerves on edge. “Time to eat, Alex,” she called, suddenly ready to get this picnic over with.

  “I’m coming, Mommy.” But Alex made no move to join them. Instead she picked up a rock and looked under it, no doubt at some squirming bugs. Adventure had always been more appealing to Alex than food, and she got little opportunity for adventure such as this.

  “Don’t wander out of my sight, and don’t get too near the stream. It’s much too cold to get wet.”

  “Maybe the stream wasn’t such a good idea,” Jack said.

  “I’m not sure my going to PPS headquarters is, either. In fact, I don’t see the point of it.”

  “It was Evangeline’s suggestion, but I agree with her.”

  “And who is Evangeline?”

  “The head honcho of PPS. She and her husband are the ones who started the business.”

  “So why isn’t he at least co-head honcho?”

  “Robert Prescott was in a small private plane that went down in Spain two years ago when he was on a business trip. They never found his body or that of the friend he was with, but they were both assumed dead.”

  “I’m surprised she kept the business. I mean you usually think of men when you think of bodyguards.”

  “She not only kept it, she’s turned it into one of the premiere security groups in the country. Like I said, she’s into the high-tech aspect of protection and investigation, and I’d have to differ with you on the male aspect of the business. We have some terrific female agents.”

  “Like Sara Montgomery?”

  “Right on, and Evangeline herself.”

  “Did Evangeline remarry?”

  “No. I don’t think she’s had a date since Robert died. She seldom talks about him, but it’s obvious she still really misses him. Sometimes I think she’s holding on to some kind of far-fetched hope that he’s still alive. Anyway, you’ll like Evangeline. Everyone does.”

  “So why does she think I need to come into your headquarters?”

  “To help Lenny get started on his research.”

  “What will he be looking for?”

  “Whatever turns up. I’m partial to fieldwork myself, but it’s amazing what Lenny can turn up without ever leaving his desk. There’s a lot of private information floating around in cyberspace, some hidden behind passwords or firewalls, but some only minimally protected.”

  “I still don’t see how I can help. I don’t know any of Nick’s passwords.”

  “But you’ll be the most likely person to know if something like bank accounts or purchases or investments look suspicious.”

  “Not necessarily. I know almost nothing about Nick’s financial status. I hate to admit it, but I never thought much about money, except from a spending standpoint. I had unlimited charge accounts at every store on Rodeo Drive. Not that I spent all my time shopping. I stayed busy.”

  “With your own passions?”

  “Right, and with caring for Alex. You’ll have to go to our accountants in Los Angeles for account numbers or names of banks. That would be Powell and Powell.”

  �
�Do you and Nick have joint bank accounts?”

  “Definitely not. None of our finances are joint. I signed a prenuptial agreement. They’re common in the entertainment world.”

  “Do you know the name of Nick’s attorney?

  “Greg Carrolton. But you should also talk to Mitchell. He’s a control freak, and Nick was his primary client. He probably knows the serial number on all three of Nick’s sports cars by heart.”

  “We’ll talk to Mitchell, but he didn’t seem inclined to cooperate with me last night. Don’t worry, though, you’ll be more help than you think in establishing the initial search criteria. Lenny will ask the right questions, you’ll just have to answer.”

  “Okay, I’ll go with you today, but I’m not making any promises after that.”

  Kelly’s phone rang, and the sudden noise startled her so that she jumped and knocked over her bottle of water, spilling it onto her napkin. Jack grabbed it before it soaked the remaining half of her sandwich, and Alex came running to get in on the excitement of a spill.

  The caller ID indicated it was Mitchell. “Hello,” she said, standing and walking away so that she could talk freely without upsetting Alex.

  “Where are you?” Mitchell asked. “I just got a call from the pilot. He said you didn’t show up.”

  “We ran into complications.”

  “Like what?”

  “We were on our way to the airport when this black car came out of nowhere.” He was silent while she explained the frightening ordeal and how Jack’s swift actions had saved their lives.

  “I don’t understand this.”

  “Neither do I, Mitchell, but it happened. Jack thinks it was a hit man, likely hired by whomever killed Nick—or had him killed. He believes Nick was involved in something that put him on a target list.”

  “That’s preposterous. No one had Nick killed. He just got drunk and wandered into the wrong area of town. Where are you now?”

  Apparently he hadn’t heard about David Bates’s arrest. “I’m at Jack’s ranch.”

  “Why on earth would you be there?”

  “We need a place to talk and decide what I should do now.”

  “That’s a pretty simple decision. You need to call Detective Carter and have him get you to the airport safely. I’ll charter another flight.”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to Los Angeles.”

  “What else would you do? You have a husband to bury. And you need to make some kind of statement to the press and to Nick’s grieving fans.”

  She exhaled slowly as the frustration and responsibilities weighed down on her. “I guess everyone knows about the murder by now.”

  “Of course they know. Haven’t you been watching TV? Crowds are pouring into the streets around your estate and leaving flowers, candles, most any kind of remembrance you can imagine.”

  “I’ve been avoiding the news. I haven’t talked to Alex about Nick.”

  “You have to tell her. If you don’t, she’ll hear it from someone else. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “I know. It’s just that things are so confusing right now. I’m in no shape to deal with her grief and I don’t want to tell her when she’s in a strange place and sleeping in a strange bed.”

  “Which is another reason why you need to go home. And you need to get away from Jack Sanders.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re vulnerable, and I don’t want him to take advantage of you.”

  “Our relationship is strictly about protection.”

  “I’m neither blind nor stupid, Kelly. I saw the way the two of you looked at each other when he arrived at the hotel yesterday and you were clinging to him last night while your husband was dying.”

  “I was in shock.”

  “You’re not in shock now. So go back to Beverly Hills where you belong. I’ll hire a protection service there. They’ll have more training, anyway. It is California, after all.”

  It was no use to argue with Mitchell. He made good points. But could she tolerate flashbulbs popping in her face every time she looked out a window or opened a door when she was trying to stay alive—and more importantly, keep Alex alive?

  “I’m sorry, Mitchell. I can’t go home just yet.”

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  “It won’t be my first.”

  “Nick was a good man, Kelly. He wasn’t much of a husband, I know, but he loved you in his own way and he worshipped Alex. Jack Sanders is wrong. Nick would never have become involved in anything that would have put either you or Alex in danger.”

  “I hope you’re right, but someone killed Nick and those were real bullets flying around us this afternoon.”

  “If you keep hanging out with Jack, it will only give substance to the rumors that Nick was gay, and he never wanted that getting out.”

  Her patience ran out. “For crying out loud, Mitch ell. Let it go. Nick is dead. The rumors no longer matter—if they ever did.”

  “Don’t dishonor your husband with some old fling, Kelly. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Goodbye, Mitchell.” Snowflakes stuck to her face as she walked back to where Jack and Alex were standing by the horses.

  “It’s snowing again, Mommy.”

  Kelly only nodded.

  “I can catch one. See.” She put her face up and stuck out her tongue. “Jack teached me that.”

  Jack’s gaze sought hers. “You okay?”

  “Not really. That was Mitch.”

  “Did you ask him about helping with the investigation?”

  “No, bad timing for that.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s still insisting I fly back to Los Angeles today.”

  “And?”

  “I told him I couldn’t.”

  Jack reached across and wiped a snowflake from her eyelashes. “You made the right decision.”

  She hoped she had—for all their sakes. It would be truly pathetic if her reasoning had anything to do with a high school crush.

  But there was no denying Jack was getting to her. And after four years of doing without any kind of intimacy, she wasn’t sure how much willpower she had left.

  Saturday, 5:34 p.m.

  Parking garage at PPS

  JACK STEERED into his reserved parking spot and pulled the gear into Park. He still couldn’t think of how close he’d come to losing Kelly and Alex that afternoon without his chest caving in on him.

  Let it go. Stay in the present. Focus on the immediate. It was the cardinal rule of protection.

  The second rule, unfortunately, was to never get emotionally involved with the person you’re hired to protect. Ethically, he should have Kelly assigned to a new agent. Realistically, there was no way he’d turn her protection over to anyone else.

  Not after what Lenny had already learned. Jack hated to hit Kelly with it, but he had no choice. She was already unbuckled and getting out of the car. The ugly truth was only minutes away.

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday, 5:38 p.m.

  PPS Headquarters

  The headquarters for Prescott Personal Securities took up the entire top floor of an impressive glass-and-steel skyscraper in downtown Denver. Kelly’s first impression when she stepped out of the elevator and peered through the glass wall was that Evangeline, or her decorator, had excellent taste in office decor. Her second thought was that Evangeline had terrible taste in receptionists.

  “Who’s the goth queen?” she asked as they approached the door.

  “Oh, that’s Angel. Our own little Angel of Death.”

  Kelly stopped in her tracks. “What?”

  “Sorry, bad timing. Her name’s Angel. One of the guys pinned the nickname on her one day when she was looking particularly gruesome, and it stuck.”

  “So she actually works here?”

  “She gives work a shot. I wouldn’t say she’s good at it. She’s one of Evangeline’s projects, but she grows on you. Place seems kind of dead
when she’s on vacation.”

  “A project?”

  “I’ll explain later.” He stopped and peered into a rectangular box hung at eye level next to the door. A second later the double glass doors slid open.

  “Is that an eye scan?”

  “It is, but you and Alex have clearance by virtue of being with me.”

  “What if I weren’t with you?”

  “Then Angel would have to buzz you in—or not—depending on whether your business here was legitimate.”

  Alex headed straight for the huge floor-to-ceiling window. She pushed her nose to the glass and stared out at the city and the thousands of lights blinking on in the surrounding buildings as twilight fell. She seemed mesmerized by the view and would no doubt leave a dozen tiny handprints for the janitorial crew.

  Kelly checked out the rest of the reception area. There was a large desk to one side of the high-ceilinged space where Angel was peering into a silver compact while smearing coal-black gloss on her lips, a dramatic contrast to her pale skin. Angel waved a few fingers at them without taking her eyes from the mirror. Kelly smiled back.

  The rest of the room was furnished like a large living area with comfortable couches and chairs in shades of brown and turquoise, small wooden tables in a dark finish and huge pottery urns. The walls were a pristine white, but the floor was richly hued terra-cotta tile in Native American fashion that complemented the pictures and decorative items in the high-ceilinged room. The result was a look that—unlike Angel—seemed very welcoming.

  “Cool,” Angel announced, giving Kelly the once-over now that she’d finished her grooming chores. “You look just like you did on TV. I always liked you, but never understood why you let that jerk husband of yours push you around? What was his name? Brad, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh, you’re talking about my husband on the soap.”

  “Sure. Who else?”

  “Kelly, this is Angel,” Jack said. He turned to Angel. “Sounds as if I don’t have to tell you who Kelly is, but the delightful young lady at the window is Alex.”

  Kelly extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Angel.”