Downright Dangerous Read online

  "Well, this assignment is more than just the usual job— it's a favor to Jed Tyree."

  "Yeah, I got that much from Daisy."

  "Do you remember Grace's assistant, Elsa Leone?" Kate asked.

  Did he remember Elsa? Hell, did he have red blood flowing through his veins? Of course he remembered the shy, dark-eyed Elsa, the gutsy, protective Elsa who risked her life to help her brother. "Yeah, I remember her. Why?"

  "Your assignment is to act as her personal bodyguard," Kate told him. "Frank and I are your backup, and we're going in as investigators."

  Rafe finished off the coffee and set the mug on the sleek, teak-veneer table to his right. "Why does Elsa Leone need a bodyguard?''

  "Someone tried to kill her last night."

  Rafe's gut tightened. Something basic and primitive roused within him at the thought that Elsa had almost lost her life. Once he was with her, he'd make sure she was safe.

  "Any idea who?" Whoever this person was, they were dead if he ever got his hands on them. When Rafe nabbed the would-be killer, he'd take care of the guy personally.

  Kate shook her head. "Elsa is managing WJMM TV and radio stations in Maysville, Mississippi, about an hour's drive from Memphis. In the eight and a half months she's been there, ratings have skyrocketed. She's taken part in—well, actually, she instigated—an all-out war against crime in a part of the city called Honey Town. Drug dealers. Pimps. Slums. You get the picture."

  Yeah, he got the picture all right. There was money involved. Big money. Probably Dixie Mafia money. That meant Elsa was in way over her pretty brunette head. "How many warnings did she get before they tried to kill her?"

  Kate lifted her eyebrows. "Several. Phone calls. Letters. But last night somebody in a truck tried to run her down in the WJMM parking lot. Actually, they tried to pin her between the entrance and the truck's hood. She barely es­caped."

  Rafe didn't realize he'd growled until he noted the ex­pression on Kate's face. He grinned at her, hoping to as­suage her curiosity.

  "Does Jed know?" she asked.

  "Know what?"

  "Know how you feel about Elsa Leone."

  "I don't have the foggiest idea what you're talking about. I barely know the woman. I think we met a total of three times while our team was working with Jed in St. Camille last year."

  "Mmm-hmm. Undoubtedly three times was enough to make quite an impression."

  "You're crazy if you think—"

  "I think your personal life is none of my business," Kate said.

  "Elsa Leone is not part of my personal life."

  "If you say so."

  "I say so. I barely remember her."

  "The more you protest, the more certain I am that Ms. Leone got under your skin and that fact bothers you."

  "You're wrong." Rafe huffed. "Just forget it, will you?" He held out his hand for the folders she lifted from her briefcase. "Let me go over the files while we're en route."

  "There's quite a bit of information about Elsa Leone in those files. Personal history, too."

  Rafe gave Kate one of his notorious drop-dead glares that had been known to make grown men quake in their boots, but it seemed to have no effect on Kate whatsoever. Before he could think of a rebuttal to her last comment, Frank Latimer—tall, lanky and looking, as usual, like he'd slept in his clothes—emerged from the cockpit.

  "We'll be off to Mississippi in about twenty minutes," Frank said as he came toward them. He glanced from Kate to Rafe and back to Kate. "Did you tell him who our client is?"

  Kate nodded.

  Frank sat down beside Kate and looked directly at Rafe. "Too bad about being called off such a plush assignment, but I guess Jed knew you'd want to handle this one per­sonally, seeing how it's Elsa Leone."

  Kate laughed, earning another deadly glare from Rafe.

  This was going to be one hell of an assignment—for more reasons than one.

  Chapter 2

  One of the mixed blessings of living in a small Southern town such as Maysville was that everybody seemed to know everybody else's business. It wasn't that the town was all that similar to fictional, lazy, little towns that were so small everyone knew everyone. No, Maysville was larger, with a more hectic, modern pace, yet still small enough that gossip about neighbors—whether one knew them personally or not—ran rampant. And this morning the news that WJMM's manager had been targeted for murder was on the front page of the Maysville Daily. Nat­urally, Elsa had agreed that the coverage of her near-fatal incident with the killer truck last night would take prece­dence over any other local news run on both the radio and TV station. Her boss, Grace Tyree, had been right about using the incident to her benefit—to boost ratings on WJMM. After all, who more than she deserved to reap any good from what had happened?

  Despite Troy's protests that she go home and rest, Elsa had chosen to spend the night at her office, dozing on and off on the sofa, as she'd done numerous times. Troy had stayed until six this morning—sleeping on the floor beside her—then, at her insistence, had gone home to shower and change clothes so he wouldn't miss his early-morning class at Maysville Community College. Chief Fleming had posted one of his men there at the studio and had already called this morning to check on things and told Elsa he'd stop by shortly, to see her personally. While she'd cleaned up in the rest room, her answering machine had taken two other calls—one from Harry Colburn and another from El­lison Mays. When the night staff had left, each person had made a point of saying goodbye to her; and when the early-morning workers arrived, each had made a pilgrim­age to her office. She supposed she should appreciate all the concern from her employees—and she did—but she wasn't the type who basked in the limelight. Elsa consid­ered herself a behind-the-scenes person. The attention she had received recently due to her involvement with MGS had almost overwhelmed her, but now she was in the spot­light even more. And it looked as if things might get a lot worse before they got better.

  She'd tried not to think too much about the reality of her situation, the fact that someone wanted to kill her. Was she scared? Hell, yes. She was terrified. But letting fear take over her life wasn't an option. Not for her. She re­fused to allow anyone to intimidate her, not even some lunatic killer. Besides, she would have full-time protection by the Dundee agency, by Rafe Devlin. Of course that posed another set of problems. But surely she could handle the unwanted attraction she felt for the man. Still, just thinking about him made her nervous.

  A sharp knock on the office door snapped Elsa from her thoughts. The door opened and Leenie Patton stuck her head in and smiled.

  "How's it going?" Leenie asked. "Want some com­pany?"

  "Sure, come on in," Elsa replied. "But what on earth are you doing here at the station? I thought you didn't come in until ten most days."

  "I figured you might need a friend right about now." Leenie flung open the door, then nodded backward, over her shoulder. "The delivery person from the Flower Pot is out here in the reception area with four floral arrange­ments for you. Want to let him bring them in now?"

  Floral arrangements? Elsa hurried toward Leenie, glanced around her friend and sighed when she saw the young man from the florist, a basket of flowers in each hand. Elsa's gaze quickly moved to the receptionist's desk where two tall flower-filled vases completely hid petite Kristy from view.

  Elsa sighed. Good grief. Who had sent the flowers? "Sure, tell him to bring them on in."

  Once the young man deposited the floral arrangements in the spots Elsa indicated and she'd given him a nice tip, he grinned and said, "You're the most popular lady in town today, Ms. Leone. Heck, you're famous, you know. Everybody's saying what a brave woman you are and how proud Maysville should be to have you as one of us."

  Apparently sensing Elsa's discomfort, Leenie herded the deliveryman out into the reception area. Once he left, Leenie looked right at Kristy and said, ' 'Temporarily hold all calls for Elsa and handle any other deliveries."

  When she reentered Elsa's office, Le
enie closed the door behind her and meandered around from one floral arrange­ment to another, checking the attached card on each.

  "Hmm. You have quite an assortment of admirers and well-wishers. Harry Colburn's card reads 'Love Harry.' Ellison Mays signed his personally. 'Call if I can do any­thing for you. Highest regards, Ellison.' And Mayor Noah Wright's card reads, 'To our Maysville heroine. The city is behind you one hundred percent.' And then there's an anonymous admirer. These lilies don't have a card."

  Elsa shuddered. "Think maybe the lilies are from my assailant?''

  Leenie lifted her eyebrows speculatively.

  "I associate lilies with funerals, with death."

  "Maybe you should have the police check on who sent these."

  "Maybe. But I could be wrong. And possibly the card was lost in transit. Who knows?"

  "Right. Who knows?" Leenie paused in front of the oval wall mirror and checked her makeup. "God, I have dark circles under my eyes. Getting old is the pits."

  "Old? Leenie, you're not old. And you always look fabulous. Most women would kill to look like you. Tall, thin, blond and beautiful. If there is any darkness under those big, beautiful blue eyes of yours, it's from lack of sleep."

  "I am old. I'm thirty-eight." Leenie looked directly at Elsa. "Oh, gee, honey, I'm sorry to be bellyaching about trivial things when you've got a major crisis on your hands. But from what I see, you're dealing with it in typ­ical Elsa Leone fashion. Tough, unemotional and totally in control. I admire you. Despite my sophis-ticated, profes­sional veneer, you know I'm a mass of insecurities." Leenie laughed. "Not something a psychiatrist should ad­mit, huh?"

  "I'm not so tough, you know." Elsa headed toward the bathroom. "I need to smear on a little lipstick and run a comb through my hair before—" she'd been about to say before Rafe arrives ''—before I hold a press conference at eleven and then make a statement on WJMM's noon news­cast."

  "Change your sweater, too." Leenie followed her into the bathroom. "Put on something with a little color." Af­ter rifling through the assortment of spare clothes Elsa kept at the station, Leenie pulled out a red cashmere sweater that had been a Christmas present from Grace and Jed this past year. "Here—" Leenie tossed the expensive sweater toward Elsa, who caught it midair. "Put on some red lip­stick, if you have any. If not, I've got some in my office."

  "All I have is a light shade of coral," Elsa said. "That's it."

  "Freshen up and get changed," Leenie told her. "I'll run get that lipstick and be back in a sec. And, honey, use a curling iron on your hair to give it a little lift."

  Elsa studied her face in the mirror, then groaned. Why was she acting like this, thinking about her appearance and wondering if Rafe would find her attractive? This wasn't like her. She didn't waste time worrying about her physical attractiveness.

  You're holding a press conference and appearing on camera this morning, she told herself. Why shouldn 't you want to look your best?

  After hurriedly brushing her teeth for the second time this morning—after four cups of coffee, she felt her breath wasn't fresh—she slipped into the soft red sweater, then combed her hair and debated whether to plug in the curling iron.

  "Elsa?" A male voice called.

  She eased open the door and looked into the office. Chief Van Fleming stood by her desk, his back to her. He was a rather good-looking man. Somewhere around forty, with a stocky build and puppy-dog brown eyes. And he possessed an amicable personality. "Good morning," she said as she walked up behind him.

  He whirled around, surveyed her from head to toe and smiled. "Everything all right with you? My officer on duty said there hadn't been any problems."

  "Yes, thank you, I'm fine. And no, there haven't been any problems. Just numerous phone calls that, thankfully, Kristy has screened or my answering machine has taken."

  "Officer Peck is replacing Officer Massey and will stay here until your private bodyguard shows up," Van told her. "If there's anything—and I mean anything—I can do for you, just let me know."

  Van Fleming leaned closer to her, as if he intended to touch her, but stopped short of making physical contact. Before Elsa responded or could even decide how to re­spond, Leenie barged in and held up a lipstick wand as if it were a key that would unlock a treasure chest.

  "Got it. Passion Red." Leenie glanced back and forth from Elsa to Van Fleming. "Am I interrupting some­thing?"

  "No," Elsa said. "Chief Fleming was just offering po­lice assistance if needed."

  "Oh, I see."

  Van cleared his throat, nodded to Elsa and then to Leenie. "Like I said. . . any thing you need." He smiled weakly and headed for the door.

  The minute he was out of earshot, Leenie zeroed in on Elsa. "You can tell me to mind my own business, but I think I just walked in on something, didn't I?"

  "I don't know what you're—"

  "Van Fleming was about half a second away from put­ting his arm around you. And my guess is that you weren't giving him any encouragement."

  "The man was being nice," Elsa said. "My heavens, Leenie, he's married."

  "Yeah, well, the very married chief of police came on to me less than a year ago when my car was stolen. He took a personal interest in my case. A very personal inter­est, if you know what I mean. Fleming is not what he appears to be. I don't trust him. I'd watch myself around him if I were you."

  "Your warning is duly noted."

  "Just don't trust anybody right now except me. And Troy and your personal bodyguard." Leenie put her hand on Elsa's shoulder. "Let's see what this red lipstick looks like on you. I think it'll be a perfect match for your sweater. We want you to look real pretty for the news conference and TV interview." Leenie smiled wickedly. "And for Rafe Devlin."

  When the Dundee jet landed at the Maysville Airport, Kate Malone and Frank Latimer disembarked. Following directly behind his fellow agents, Rafe immediately no­ticed the lanky teenager waving both hands to gain his attention. Troy Leone hadn't changed much in the year since Rafe had last seen him. Gained a couple of pounds maybe and didn't look quite so scruffy. Not long ago that boy had gotten himself into deep trouble, working part-time in a Mafia-owned warehouse that was raided by the Feds. Troy had been used as bait to lure Grace Beaumont, now Grace Tyree, into a trap that almost cost her and Troy their lives. Rafe hoped that the headstrong kid had learned a valuable lesson and that he hadn't been causing his big sister any more heartache. Rafe knew, firsthand, all about giving your sister grief. The one major difference between Troy and him was that Troy had been allowed a second chance to make things up to Elsa, whereas Rafe could never atone for causing his big sister Sandy so much grief.

  "Hey, man!" Troy shouted as he kept waving his arms. "Great to see you. You're just what we need—the cavalry to the rescue."

  "Hey," Rafe called to Kate and Frank. "You two go ahead and get a rental car. I think my chauffeur just showed up."

  "Want us to wait around or just meet you at WJMM headquarters?" Kate asked.

  "Hey, guys." Troy rushed toward them, a wide grin on his boyishly handsome face. "Man, it's good to see you, Rafe." He grabbed Rafe's hand and pumped it vigorously, then turned and shook hands with the other two agents. "Are y'all doing the investigating or working as Rafe's backup?''

  "Kate, Frank, this is Troy Leone, Elsa's brother," Rafe said. "Troy, this is Kate Malone and Frank Latimer."

  Always polite and cordial, Kate responded. "That's right, Troy, we're Rafe's backup and the investigative team who'll be trying to find out who wants to kill your sister and why."

  "Heck, I can tell you why. It's because she's the big dog in MGS and she's helping clean out the trash down in Honey Town."

  Rafe grasped Troy's shoulder. "Let's save all the spec­ulation until we talk to Elsa. No use talking about the same information that we'll have to go over later." He squeezed Troy's shoulder. "So, am I riding with you?"

  "Yeah, sure, man. I know you're eager to see Elsa again. She'll be glad to see you, too. I mean, I rea
lly thought you two might've worked something out before now, seeing how you and she connected and all."

  "Tell us more," Frank Latimer said to Troy. "Our buddy Rafe has been holding out on us. He didn't mention that he had a past history with the lady he'd be guarding."

  "No past history," Rafe corrected quickly.

  "Don't be modest," Troy said. "Rafe saved Elsa's life last year and he saved my life, too. He's a real bonafide hero."

  "Is that right?" Frank patted Rafe on the back, but looked right at Troy. "Do tell us more."

  "Enough," Rafe grumbled. "We're here to do a job. Let's stop wasting time—"

  "We'll rent a car and meet you at the station," Frank said, a devilish grin curving his wide mouth. "We're gonna need some wheels while we're in town."

  "Fine," Rafe replied, then maneuvered Troy in the other direction. "So, how's life treating you? Are you in school? Dating?"

  As they walked side by side through the small airport and out into the parking lot, Troy responded by telling Rafe he was at the community college and was dating a real nice girl by the name of Alyssa. When they reached a shiny, nearly new, blue Ford pickup, Troy paused.

  "Here we are. Isn't she a beaut? Elsa co-signed so that I could buy a new truck when we moved here to Maysville. I want you to know that I know how damn lucky I am to have a sister who'd give me another chance. But then, I don't have to tell you how special Elsa is, do I?"

  Why the hell did Troy Leone think there was anything between Rafe and Elsa? Was it possible that Elsa had some sort of crush on Rafe that he wasn't aware of? If that was the case, it would certainly make things uncomfortable for him working as her personal bodyguard. Okay, he'd admit that the woman sort of got under his skin. . .a little. So what? He hadn't seen her in well over a year, and if Jed Tyree hadn't especially requested him for this job, he most definitely wouldn't have volunteered.

  Are you sure about that? an inner voice asked.

  "Yeah, I'm sure," Rafe said aloud as he hopped up into ; the cab of Troy's truck.

  "Huh?" Troy asked. "What are you sure about?"