Downright Dangerous Page 7

  Rafe moved closer. Elsa eased away and headed for her bedroom, but before she reached the open door, Rafe slid between her and safety, his long, lean body blocking her path. "My ego isn't that fragile," he told her. "Besides, I'm not convinced that Troy was wrong."

  Elsa gasped. Damn the man! The last thing she needed now was to have to deal with this aggravating egotist. Didn't she have enough problems without having to play a continuous verbal sparring match with Rafe?

  "I think perhaps you should swap duties with Mr. Lat­imer," Elsa said. "Maybe he should take over as my per­sonal bodyguard and you can work with Kate Malone on the investigation."

  Rafe reached out ever so slowly and gently grasped her wrist. She thought about jerking away from him, but didn't. Stand up to him, she told herself. Show him his touch doesn 't affect you in the least. Of course that might prove difficult considering how her whole body was trem­bling.

  His gaze locked with hers. He ran his hand up her arm in a tender caress, then skimmed his fingertips over her shoulder and up the side of her neck. Elsa held her breath.

  "You're trembling," Rafe said.

  "You make me nervous," she admitted.

  "Why?"

  "Because you're toying with me, playing with my emo­tions, and I don't know how to deal with you."

  Rafe gazed deeply into her eyes, and for a split second she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he released her and moved out of her way. "What is it about you, Elsa Leone, that makes me want to play your knight in shining armor?"

  "That's your job, isn't it? Playing knight in shining ar­mor?"

  He shook his head; strands of his thick, sun-kissed brown hair fell across his forehead and over one eye. "I'm a professional bodyguard. I do my job and never become personally involved. Believe me, there's a big difference between being a white knight and doing my job as a Dun­dee agent."

  "Do you want me to believe you've never taken on the role of white knight? I know better. You came to my res­cue back in St. Camille and probably saved my life. Def­initely saved me from being raped. And you didn't even know me. I wasn't a client." She didn't break eye contact for one second and soon realized that Rafe was just the least bit uncomfortable accepting her praise. "That day, down by the waterfront, when I was safely back in my car, I kept thinking of you as my shaggy-haired knight in shin­ing armor."

  "I'm no white knight. Not by any stretch of the imag­ination. Don't confuse me with some prince charming who's the answer to a maiden's prayers."

  "How many times do I have to tell you—I do not have the hots for you. You're safe. I promise that I won't pursue you, if that's what's worrying you. I don't want you. I want. . .well, I want a man like Harry."

  Rafe narrowed his gaze. "Rich and socially prominent."

  "Yes, partly. And someone who could be interested in a permanent relationship."

  "Don't fool yourself about good old Harry. The playboy type never settles down, not even after he marries."

  "Speaking from experience?"

  "Nope. I'm not a playboy and I've never been mar­ried." He grinned. "Came close once, but the lady got smart and dumped me."

  "Once burned, twice shy, huh?"

  "Yeah, something like that."

  Get away from him. Go to your room and then in the morning you can discuss him changing duties with Frank Latimer, Elsa told herself. Play it safe—keep your distance.

  "I think I'll go to bed now. I want to get an early start in the morning."

  Rafe nodded. "What time does Troy get home?"

  "Huh? Troy? Sometime around midnight." She checked her wristwatch. "Anytime now."

  "Did you set the security alarm?"

  "No. Troy usually does that after he comes in."

  "From now on, I want the system set at all times. By the way, do you have alarms on any of the windows?"

  "No, just the doors."

  "I'll make some calls tomorrow and see if we can't get a rush job on making this place more secure. And remem­ber to stay away from the windows."

  She nodded and turned to go into her room.

  "Another couple of things," he called. She paused and glanced over her shoulder. "I answer the phone and I go to the door. Remember that."

  "I'll try."

  "Do more than try. Your life could depend on it." A shudder of apprehension rippled up her spine.

  "Rafe?"

  "Yeah?"

  "In the morning we should discuss—"

  "I'm staying on as your personal bodyguard," he told her emphatically. "I won't be swapping jobs with Frank. But don't worry, from now on, I'll try to behave myself."

  "Do more than try," she told him, repeating his words.

  He saluted her, then headed for the stairs.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To check things out downstairs and lock up. Troy can reset the alarm after he comes in." With his back to her he said, "Take your bath and go to bed. Get some rest. You're safe. I'm here." He trailed off down the stairs.

  Elsa took a deep breath, then went straight into her room. Catching herself just in time as she started to close her door as she usually did, she remembered Rafe's in­structions to leave her door open. He didn't want any closed or locked doors between them. In case she needed his help, he wanted to be able to get to her immediately.

  But how was she supposed to sleep, with her door open and his door open and nothing more than a narrow hallway between them?

  I do not have the hots for Rafe Devlin, she told herself, and repeated those words again and again as she headed straight for the shower.

  She lay beneath him, damp with perspiration and smell­ing of liquor, cheap perfume and sex. He rolled off her and onto his side, completely sated. Cassie Dover was the kind of woman who'd give a man anything he wanted— for the right price. She had been servicing him for years, ever since she'd been little more than a girl. He had used other prostitutes, here in Honey Town and in other places, even in Memphis, where a man could get some high-priced tail. But he always came back to Cassie.

  Ellison ran his hand over her naked hip and smiled when she sighed. She had a way of making him feel like the only man in the world, even though she'd slept with a fourth of the men in Maysville. He didn't care. It wasn't as if he planned to marry her.

  Ellison chuckled. Marry the likes of Cassie Dover! Good God, generations of Southwell and Mays ancestors would roll over in their graves. And Aunt Nella would fall dead on the spot.

  The very thought was ludicrous. Yes, he had some feel­ings for Cassie. Maybe, in a way, he even loved her. No fool like an old fool. Cassie was a pretty thing, all blond and golden, with a round, lush body that drove him mad. But at nearly fifty, he knew better than to let his libido rule his life.

  Elsa Leone would make him a suitable mate. She was a lovely young woman, and even Aunt Nella approved of her, and that old bat didn't approve of many people. He had made several minor overtures to Elsa and she'd dip­lomatically rebuffed him each time. But if he concentrated all his charm on Maysville's most celebrated citizen of the year, she might succumb. It wasn't as if he'd have to give up Cassie entirely if he married Elsa.

  Hell, Elsa might not live long enough to marry anyone. After all, she'd stepped on the wrong toes and made pow­erful enemies. Perhaps he should wait and see what hap­pened, see if the woman would come to her senses and play the game by the rules. She could continue her lead­ership of the MGS organization as a figurehead, as long as she stopped digging into things that might get her killed. Ellison knew how the game was played; he'd been a major player for years.

  "Ellie, honey, stay the night, will you?" Cassie snug­gled against him, her large breasts pressing against his side.

  He kissed her on the forehead. "Can't, sweetheart. You know I have to get home before dawn. People talk. And a man in my position has his reputation to think about."

  She sighed deeply. "I wish we could spend a whole week together, just the two of us. Somewhere out of Mays­ville. Far away from
Honey Town."

  He slapped her naked backside. "Maybe we'll do that one of these days. We could fly off down to our place in the Caribbean. Would you like that?"

  Cassie shot straight up in bed, her breasts bouncing, her mouth wide in an excited smile. "Do you mean it, Ellie? Could we?"

  "Maybe."

  "You know you're special, don't you?" she told him. "I mean, you aren't like the others. I honest to goodness care about you."

  He eased out of bed and headed toward the bathroom to clean up before putting on his clothes. Even in the mid­dle of the night, here in Honey Town, Ellison wasn't going to lower his standards and leave stinking and rumpled from a whore's bed.

  He washed hurriedly, wanting to get away before dawn. While he dressed, Cassie watched him.

  "Ellie?"

  "Huh?" He stuffed his shirt beneath his pants and zipped them.

  "Have you thought about what we talked about last time?"

  Hell yes, he'd thought about it. He knew what she wanted. He wanted the same thing. But what if some-one found out? Mixing business with pleasure wasn't a good idea. Paying a prostitute for an occasional poke and keep­ing a mistress were two different things. His business as­sociates might not understand and it was for sure Aunt Nella wouldn't.

  "Look, sweetheart, I took care of things so you could work independently, didn't I? You've got this house, rent free, and a decent car to drive."

  "I know. And I appreciate all you've done for me." She sat on the edge of the bed and ran her hand down her throat and over her breasts. "But if you gave me a monthly income, I wouldn't have to work anymore. I could be yours exclusively." She got up and curled her arms around him. "Wouldn't you like that? No other man would ever touch me again."

  Would he like that? Yes, he'd like it. Recently he had come to resent the other men, had become downright pos­sessive about Cassie. "Okay, I'll think about it some more, and maybe I can work something out. But if word got out that I—"

  She nuzzled his neck. "People down here in Honey Town know how to keep their mouths shut."

  ' 'Not everybody knows how to keep quiet, not since the Maysville Good Samaritans have been sticking their noses into things down here."

  "Once Elsa Leone is put out of commission, the MGS will lose it's steam and things will get back ta the way they were before she got folks all stirred up."

  Ellison grasped Cassie by the back of her neck and glowered down at her. "What do you know about the hit out on Elsa?"

  Cassie looked up at him, a mixture of surprise and fear in her big blue eyes. "I don't know anything, except what's being whispered all around Honey Town."

  "And what's being whispered?" He tightened his hold on her neck.

  She groaned with pain. "Lighten up, Ellie, you're hurt­ing me."

  He loosened his death grip. "What have you heard?"

  "Nothing except what you just said—that there's a hit out on Elsa Leone."

  Ellison took a deep, calming breath, slid his hand down Cassie's back to her hip. It would be a damn shame for someone as lovely and intriguing as Elsa to die, he thought. But he understood that sometimes the unthinkable was necessary.

  Troy hadn't gotten much sleep—maybe a couple of hours altogether. How could a guy sleep when he knew his girlfriend was pregnant? If he were older, out of school, had a decent job. . . But he was twenty and had a part-time job at WJMM. He wanted to do the right thing—for Alyssa and their child, but he just didn't know what the right thing was. Should he offer to pay for an abortion? Should they just get married and figure out the rest later? Should Alyssa have the baby and give it up for adoption? God, he didn't know. He didn't know.

  What the hell was he going to do?

  Talking to Elsa was out of the question. It wasn't that she wouldn't help him. She would. But he'd given her so much grief over the years that he couldn't bring himself to lay this new problem on her. Not now. Not when she had major problems of her own. And problems didn't get much bigger than having someone trying to kill you.

  He'd just have to find a way to handle things on his own. But for now, for today, he'd continue his life as if nothing had changed. And this afternoon he'd talk to Alyssa again and see what she wanted to do. He had every intention of standing by her and supporting her. Unfortu­nately, she seemed as confused and uncertain as he was.

  The house was quiet as he walked downstairs at five-thirty. Elsa would be up by six and in the kitchen by six-twenty. His big sister didn't spend a lot of time on hair and makeup. She was a minimalist when it came to the beauty regime most women followed. Elsa was always neat as a pin and no one could say she wasn't attractive in an unassuming way. But she didn't do all she could with what she had. Troy figured out a long time ago that Elsa had some real issues with bringing attention to her­self. She was basically shy and reserved, so he'd been surprised by how well she'd handled being in the spotlight recently. However, one of Elsa's strongest qualities was her ablility to handle just about anything life threw her way.

  When Troy opened the kitchen door, he stopped dead still. Rafe Devlin, wearing jeans, white T-shirt and plaid flannel shirt, stood by the back door, a mug of coffee in his hand. The minute Troy paused, Rafe turned around and spoke.

  "Good morning."

  "You're up early," Troy said.

  "So are you, especially considering how late you came in last night."

  He'd been later than usual because he'd driven around town thinking about his predicament. He'd finally headed home sometime after one. "You heard me?"

  Rafe nodded. "Coffee's ready, if you want some."

  "Yeah, I need a jolt of caffeine." Troy headed for the coffeemaker.

  "You didn't sleep well, did you?"

  "Huh?" Troy removed a mug from the rack under the counter, then lifted the coffeepot and filled his cup. "Have I got dark circles under my eyes or something?"

  "Nope. But I heard you pacing the floor on and off for hours."

  "You've got good hearing. Sorry I kept you awake. I, er, I've got a problem I'm trying to solve."

  "Must be quite a problem to keep you up most of the night." Rafe eyed Troy over the rim of his mug. "Maybe you need to talk to Elsa about whatever's bothering you."

  "I can't do that." Troy carried his coffee mug to the table and set it down, then pulled out a chair and slumped into it. He cradled the mug between his palms.

  "Are you in trouble?" Rafe asked as he joined Troy at the table. "You're not doing drugs again, are you?"

  "No way, man. I'm clean and I intend to stay clean."

  "Good for you."

  Troy debated about being totally honest with Rafe. It would be great to have another man to talk to, to ask for advice, to come right out and say, "What would you do if you were in my shoes?" Of course, he didn't know Rafe all that well. It wasn't as if they were friends, but he fig­ured if he could trust anybody—somebody other than Elsa—it would be a man who had saved his life. Wasn't there some old saying about if you save someone's life that life belongs to you?

  Troy sipped on his coffee for a couple of minutes. Si­lence hung heavy in the air. Just do it, he told himself. Get it off your chest. Trust your instincts.

  "I've got a girlfriend," Troy said. "Alyssa. A real nice girl. A good girl. You know what I mean."

  Rafe nodded.

  "I'm her first."

  Rafe didn't move a muscle.

  "She's pregnant."

  Rafe blew out a long, slow breath.

  "She just told me yesterday." Troy swallowed. "We don't know what to do."

  "Bad timing," Rafe said. "Your sister is in serious trouble, in real danger, and she needs you right now. She needs for you to not cause her any more problems."

  "Yeah, I know. I'm always screwing up." Troy shoved back his chair and stood so quickly that the chair almost toppled. He grabbed it just in time to keep it from crashing to the floor. "Hell, Rafe, what am I going to do? It's not like Alyssa and I can wait forever if. . .well, if she's not going to have the baby
."

  "Is that what she wants, an abortion?"

  "She doesn't know what she wants. And she's more afraid to tell her father than I am to tell Elsa."

  "Her father would have every right to come after you with a shotgun."

  "Yeah, I know, but he'd come after me to kill me, not force me to marry Alyssa." Troy ran his hand across the back of his head and nervously grabbed a handful of long dark hair. "Alyssa's father is Dr. Bruce Alden, the presi­dent of Maysville Community College. The guy doesn't even know Alyssa's dating me."

  "Under other circumstances, I'd advise you to tell Elsa, but with the way things are, I'd say wait a couple of weeks. If your girl just discovered she's—"

  The kitchen door swung open and Elsa said, "Tell me what?'' She stared right at Troy.

  "Is something wrong? What's this about a girl?"

  Holy hell. Troy gulped. How much had she heard? He whirled around to face his sister. "Nothing, sis. Really, it's nothing."

  "We were indulging in some guy talk," Rafe said. "Troy was telling me about his girlfriend."

  "A girlfriend?"

  "Yeah, you know—Alyssa Alden," Troy said.

  "Did Dr. Alden finally agree to let you two date?" Elsa asked.

  "Not exactly."

  "And that's Troy's problem. His girl's father." Rafe got up, went to the counter and poured coffee into a clean cup. He walked over and handed it to Elsa. "What's for break­fast? Do y'all eat cereal or—"

  "I don't cook," Elsa told him. "There's cold cereal and banana-nut muffins from the bakery. Take your pick." Holding the coffee mug in one hand, she used the other to open the pantry door. She picked up a box of muffins and set them on the table; then she turned to Troy. "You and Alyssa can slip around behind Dr. Alden's back for only so long. Sooner or later, he'll find out and—"