Protector Page 3

  “What?”

  “Did I forget to mention his application says he’s saving up to return to the London School of Economics? A late-in-life career change, or so he said in the interview. Apparently he’s taking online classes at some American college now… But I’m rambling. Suffice it to say, he’s hot, smart, and available.”

  Something warm unfurled inside Jolynn, something that felt remarkably like hope. She reassessed Charles, envisioning him as a professor, or maybe a banker. Sexy, smart, and safe.

  Definitely a deadly combination.

  As if he sensed her gaze, he peered over his shoulder at her. His face dimpled into a sheepish grin.

  Dimples. Angel kisses. She savored a rare memory of her mother explaining the tiny indentations as special kisses from heaven.

  The straw bent in her hand. Dallas definitely would have been safer.

  * * *

  Chuck closed his locker with a restrained click. Slamming wouldn’t come close to releasing the pent-up frustration inside him. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and cut a path through the other workers in the employees’ lounge. He hoped for a bit of luck so he could slip out for a drive before the ship left in the morning.

  Focus. He couldn’t afford to let his mind wander, especially while on the Fortuna.

  He strode through the gaming area into the enclosed gangplank. His footsteps echoed with hollow thuds until the confines exploded into an array of color splashing through the spiky crystals hanging overhead like something out of Superman’s home planet of Krypton. Glass double doors waited like a piece of salvation beyond a goddess fountain statue. He flashed his employee ID to the guard keeping track of those going on and off the ship on his way out.

  Safely on solid land— or concrete— Chuck tipped his head back and inhaled the fresh night air, grateful to leave behind the chaotic world belowdecks. He hoofed it away from the cruise terminal of Ponte dei Mille. He would meet up with the colonel and Berg later, after his concentration steadied.

  Instinctively, he surveyed the area around him. At his four o’clock, a couple of teens with assorted pierced body parts were cruising the nightclubs. At ten o’clock, a vendor hauled covers over wooden stalls and a drunken businessman type stumbled toward a trash can.

  He forced back memories of late night in another foreign city. In Istanbul. Of a woman who’d lured him. Drugged him, then…

  Breathe. Overcome it. Don’t let the past steal any more of his life.

  As if in defiance of Chuck’s need for order, Jolynn Taylor appeared at his twelve o’clock. Even with the tight suit gone, she didn’t offer much relief with its replacement. Crisp white jeans and a shiny yellow shirt hugged her slim body. Her hair, gathered with a band, trailed a fiery path between her shoulder blades.

  The aching tendon in his neck kinked tighter. He ignored the pain. What was she hiding?

  Her brush-off at the casino had stung, then stirred the coals of his banked anger. Apparently Ms. Taylor didn’t hang with the help.

  Chuck leaned against a lamppost under the pretense of searching through his backpack. Tomorrow would be soon enough for a second “meeting” with her, once the colonel could update him, and once he’d gotten his damned hormones under control.

  She slid long legs into a Maserati Cambio Corsa with the cruise ship name on the license plate— Fortuna—the Roman goddess for luck. Jolynn slammed the door then riffled through her huge designer purse for what seemed like an eternity.

  Why wasn’t she leaving? Something was off. He couldn’t just leave her here vulnerable.

  But he wouldn’t be caught off guard again, either.

  Crouching, he pulled his Beretta from under his pant leg and tucked it in his waistband. He readjusted the loose folds of his shirt, concealing the gun.

  As he checked the tattooed teens again, a movement slid through his peripheral vision. The drunk businessman straightened.

  Too alert, the man veered away from the trash can, his focus on the Maserati. He stalked toward Jolynn with lethal grace. She struggled with the ignition, hunching over the steering wheel. The vulnerable curve of her neck glowed under the hazy streetlamps.

  Adrenaline pumped through Chuck, tightening his scalp. The familiar metallic taste stung his mouth. He padded across the cement, his muscles bunched, ready to unleash into action. The businessman cocked his head to the side and turned— the slick British guy from the casino who’d hit on Jolynn. His narrowed gaze connected with Chuck’s, the feral gleam unmistakable even in the dim garage.

  Chuck knew his time to plan was over. His feet picked up speed as he closed in on the Maserati convertible.

  THREE

  “Damn it.” Jolynn pounded the heel of her hand against the dashboard. She tried the ignition again and— nothing. Her head slid forward to rest on her arms hooked over the steering wheel.

  She let two tears slide free, tears for her father. After years of shuffling her aside, he had asked for her.

  It had taken a massive heart attack, but he finally needed her, and like a sap, she’d come running across continents to his side. Only to freak out before she could knock on his door.

  She’d told everyone— herself even— she couldn’t visit him because of flight delays, but she was a liar. Only back in her dad’s world for a few hours and already she was falling into old bad habits.

  Like drooling over her father’s employees.

  If she could just have a ride to clear her head, she would be fine, in control again. Flopping back on her seat, she tried to envision what could be wrong with her Maserati. She was too tired to peek under the hood, and a darkened street didn’t seem like the wisest place to do it while alone. She should take this as a sign that she couldn’t keep running forever. Time to call Lucy and ask about another ride.

  Jolynn rummaged through her cavernous bag and pulled out the cell phone, dialing the number from memory. Phone calls and visits with Lucy had been the only link Jolynn had allowed herself to her father over the years.

  While waiting, she tried the ignition again, on the outside chance it might work. The dull “click” popped in the pitch black, along with dance club music in the distance. Too distant. Her skin prickled. Footsteps echoed in the darkened alley, coming closer. Fear ballooned up to her throat.

  “Everything okay?”

  Charles Tomas. At the sound of his voice, Jolynn melted into the supple leather of her seat. She peered through the window as he rested an elbow on the roof.

  Her momentary relief shifted. What did she really know about him? What if Charles turned out to be some baby-faced killer? Would anyone immersed in the nightlife even hear her?

  “Hello. Hello?” The muffled sound of Lucy’s voice drifted from the cell phone.

  Jolynn sagged with relief. As long as she let Lucy know where she was, and whom she was with, she should be fine. She lifted the phone with one hand, rolling down the window with the other. She wanted Charles to hear her conversation and realize she’d identified him to the outside world, just in case.

  “Hi, Lucy, it’s me.” Jolynn could feel his heat reach to her through the open window.

  “Do you know what time it is? Oh, no, is it your dad? Tell me where you are. I’m on my way.”

  “Wait. I was going to see him—” Lying again already? “Except the company car is giving me trouble. Your new blackjack dealer has come to the rescue.”

  The predictable laugh drifted from the receiver, before Lucy launched into a litany of “I told you so.” Only half listening to her friend’s ramblings, Jolynn allowed herself an unrestrained look at Charles.

  He stepped back from the car, arms crossed over his chest. With the casino uniform tie discarded, his white shirt fell open at the collar. A silver chain nestled in the part.

  Why couldn’t she have the traditional, delicate whisper of butterflies tingling her senses? No, something more like a hummingbird knocked around inside her.

  Charles looked so normal, probably an everyday guy from
a regular family. She wanted to trust her instincts for once but she knew better.

  “You’re with him right now, aren’t you?” Lucy’s voice vibrated through the phone.

  “We’re not in high school anymore,” Jolynn said.

  Charles leaned against the cement wall, glancing around the side alley. She followed his gaze to a businessman jogging away, toward his car. Apparently in a rush, the guy peeled out and away from the cruise terminal of Ponte dei Mille.

  Leaving her alone with Charles.

  “Jolynn…” Lucy’s voice turned bossy. “Now’s the perfect time for you to play the helpless female.”

  “Stop it.” Jolynn wasn’t sure she had the emotional energy at the moment for any man, no matter how sexy. “Can you—”

  “Oh, come on. You don’t have to worry about him being some weirdo. He’s a pussycat.”

  Jolynn hoped Charles would give her at least another minute to gather her composure before he did something drastic, like smile. “I’ll call back if we can’t get the car running.”

  “You’ll call with details first thing in the morning.”

  He smiled.

  “Good night, Lucy.” Jolynn looked away. The frantic little bird in her gut wanted out.

  Charles cleared his throat. “Looks like you’re having trouble with the car. Are you leaving already?”

  She deactivated the phone, tucking it back inside her bag. “It won’t even turn over. And no, I’m not leaving.”

  Jolynn released the latch and circled to the front of the car just as he lifted the hood. She passed him a flashlight.

  “Hmmm.” He rolled his sleeves to his elbows, before extending a hand. “Charles Tomas. We were never formally introduced inside.”

  “Hello, Charles. I’m Jolynn Taylor.” She waited for his expression to change to apprehension or greed as he real ized she was the boss’s daughter. And she waited… But nothing.

  “Nice to meet you, Jolynn Taylor.” He shook her hand in one smooth motion. “Let’s see what’s going on with your car.”

  She didn’t bother letting him know if the vehicle could be fixed without a computer in a shop, she could do it herself. Let him assume what he wanted. To argue that while she loved high heels, she hated cooking and adored crawling beneath an engine, well, that would mean she cared what he thought, which was far more hazardous than depending on his help for a few minutes.

  Charles crouched beside the Maserati, peering underneath. Standing, he rested the heels of his palms on the front of her car. He reached inside, tweaking caps and hoses, while he “hmmm’d” in that time-honored manner she’d always found an amusing part of the male strutting ritual.

  Bent over the engine, he displayed his incredibly cute, narrow-hipped tush. Her gaze moved up past the taut sinews of his back she’d explored a few hours earlier. “Find anything?”

  “Not yet.” He leaned farther under the hood. “If you don’t mind my asking, where are you headed this late?”

  “Going to visit my father.” And as she said it, she realized she had to make the trip tonight, no matter how late. Delaying gave her father too much power over her emotions. “Uh, you may have heard that Dad had a heart attack.”

  She pushed down the cuticle of her thumbnail and wondered what she would say to the man she hadn’t seen in ten years.

  Charles shifted to the side, dipping his head to look at her. “Not much of a family reunion.”

  “Nope.” His flash of compassion reached to her, touching a corner of her lonely heart.

  “Why don’t you try to crank it again?”

  Jolynn slid into the driver’s seat and pressed the ignition button and… Still nothing. She ducked her head through the window and looked around the mirror. “Well?”

  “Beats me.” Charles shrugged, his greasy fingers dangling in front of him. “Sorry.”

  She thought about those nimble fingers scooping up cards… stroking her flesh. She fished around in the glove compartment for something to clean away the grease and came back with a box of Kleenex.

  Jolynn joined him in front of the car. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” He took the tissues and swiped his long fingers. “Wish I could have done more to help so you could enjoy that ride. Guess I’m just not all that great with electronics. Can I walk you back to the stateroom? Wouldn’t want you to run into trouble out here alone at night.”

  “You tried.” Jolynn watched each swipe until she forced herself to focus on something mundane, like a radiator.

  “At least let me escort you onto the ship.”

  Dilemma. Big-time dilemma. She stared under the hood, directly at the wire hanging loose beside the distributor. Every feminine inch of her screamed, Leave the car alone. Come back out and fix it after he leaves. You don’t have to prove a thing.

  She clenched her fists by her sides and willed herself not to show this man any part of herself beyond what she chose to let him see.

  Her hands reconnected the wire to the distributor.

  She whipped the tissue box from him. Maybe he’d known that all along and had just been conning her as a way to spend time with her and get close to the boss’s daughter. Reluctantly, she looked into his eyes. Rather than surprise, she found— admiration.

  “Well, Jolynn, I bet it starts now.”

  Sure enough, the Maserati purred to life. “Thanks any way.”

  “No problem.”

  Envisioning their next encounter, she imagined her blackjack dealer toppling his table as a shield against the Amazon threatening him with a socket wrench. But damn it, she’d had to learn to take care of herself. She’d had no choice in a world where even her own uncle wasn’t safe. She needed to leave now.

  Charles glanced at his watch and frowned.

  “Is something wrong?” Why couldn’t she just go?

  Charles rubbed his hand along his jaw. “Hey, why don’t I go with you to the hospital? It’s late, and while you’re an undeniably capable lady around an engine, a dark hospital parking lot isn’t the safest place to be alone.” His face dimpled into a smile. “Please, don’t deny me my life’s dream of riding in a Maserati convertible with a redheaded lady mechanic.”

  Panic pattered in her gut. She should tell him no. But then just as she’d avoided her father, turning down this man’s polite and logical request to accompany her late at night in a foreign town… it just wouldn’t make sense.

  She eyed him, eyed the car. Why not? Lucy had already given him her stamp of approval. Compared to the risk in coming home, how dangerous could a short ride be through the heart of Genoa with Charles? “Get in.”

  * * *

  Relief slammed through Chuck harder than the closing door.

  Thank God he wouldn’t have to scrounge for more excuses to accompany her, or worse yet, follow her and risk being made. But he needed to be sure nothing more came of that brush with the Brit.

  And no way in hell could he pass up a chance for a face-to-face with her father. A meet with the mob boss could be good for their operation.

  He rubbed a hand along the kink in his neck, still strung tight from his near-confrontation with the guy who’d very likely tampered with her car, a guy who’d been close to her more than once on the cruise ship. “Is it okay if I store my backpack in the trunk?”

  “Go ahead.” She passed him the clunky key chain.

  “I’ll be right back.” He stowed his bag.

  He’d thought he could keep her at the ship by not fixing her car— ironic as hell since he specialized in testing military jets and weaponry for a living. Or rather he had… Before…

  Who would have thought Jolynn could tell a distributor wire from a battery cable? Chuck couldn’t suppress a smile remembering her chagrined expression after reconnecting the distributor.

  His smile faded. A wilting flower wouldn’t be as tempting.

  He had more important concerns. His cursory inspection of the undercarriage and engine hadn’t uncovered any sign of explosives. The last thing h
e needed was to explain away a brick of C-4. Nothing more could be done except to stick with her and make sure she got to and from the hospital in one piece.

  “All set.” Chuck eased into his seat, “accidentally” knocking her purse to spill on the floor. “Sorry about that.”

  Leaning forward, he checked under the dash for as long as he dared. The bumbling facade made a decent cover at times, but he hated acting the fool in front of such a competent woman.

  Be honest with yourself, Tanaka. That she was an attractive, competent woman made the pinch to his ego all the more uncomfortable.

  Not that he planned to pursue her.

  “Here you go.” Chuck stuffed the contents back in her bag.

  “Thanks.”

  Jolynn’s fingers brushed against his oversensitive palm. Her obvious awareness of the moment bothered him. The jolt of her touch bothered him even more. Damn.

  His body didn’t seem to care she wasn’t his type. But then his body had betrayed him before.

  * * *

  Jolynn wrestled with guilt during the drive to the rehab center in the forested outskirts of Genoa. After passing two churches and a basilica, her conscience was kicking into overtime. She should be focused on her father’s condition— checking on him— finding out why the hell someone hadn’t bothered to let her know sooner. How could she be so into talking with someone she barely knew?

  Maybe because he was actually a good listener. They discussed his return to college, her job. Lightweight stuff, and just what she needed to take her mind off what awaited her inside the rehab center.

  By the time they reached the hospital parking lot, she decided not to overanalyze her reaction to the blackjack dealer– math whiz. Her jumbled nerves calmed with Charles Tomas in the seat next to her. She couldn’t remember when she’d simply talked with a man, her defenses always too high for anything more than banter.

  She shut off the car outside the five-hundred-year-old Renaissance Italian villa that had been converted into a posh rehab center. Tuscan columns and Roman arches shone in the floodlights strategically placed along the garden grounds. And the statues… fewer and more subdued than the ones her father favored, but without question, he felt at home here.