Irresistible Knight (10 page)

“Or the record's been wiped out. You won't find
Arnold Schwarzenegger's
video of him smoking weed now. Those who occupy powerful seats can manipulate, or delete whatever they want to hide. I agree, the Internet is a great source of information, but it could be damaging also. Thus the reason why you are after Jean.”

“Right. It's the best place for pedophiles and predators of all kinds to lurk around.”

“You know, I find it interesting that nobody knew about Taylor until now,” Arthur said while his eyes fixed on the table. His chin rested on the palm of his hand the way he often did when he sat behind his massive table in his home office while thinking or reading. Arthur, always a thinker and analyzer, never failed to amaze Bors. “Think outside the box, son. I believe Taylor is a treasure chest. She knows something, and Jean will do anything to keep Taylor from talking.”

“Simms thinks so, too. That's why he wants me to find Taylor.”

“I assume you have all the information to do just that?”

“Simms is supposed to email me the file.”

“You're always welcome to use your dad's office, darling. Right, Arthur?” Katherine touched her husband's hand and smiled.

Bors gave his father a sideways glance. He knew how much his father valued his privacy, but all of the kids were always welcome to come in his office any time of day. Still, none of them made it a habit of barging in.

“Of course you can use my office, son. Percival checked my computer today and updated the security.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Arthur's cell phone sitting on the glass-topped table rang. He checked his watch, then frowned. “Isn't the cut off time seven-thirty?”

“I thought nine o'clock,” Bors looked at his own diver's watch. “It's almost nine.

“Must be important, darling. That's your personal cell phone. Outside this family, only a few people have your number.”

Arthur picked up the phone, but by the time he said hello, the caller hung up. “Well, he or she must have realized it was too late to call.” He looked at the screen. “Hmm ... two o’ six. Seattle area code.” Ever curious, Arthur hit star sixty-nine. “Hello. Hi. You called? Yes, this is Judge Knight. No, it's not late. It's okay. Can I help you? A meeting. Correct me if I'm wrong, but did you say your name is Taylor? No, no. I just want to know who I'm talking to. I know every single person I've given my personal cell number to and I don't remember giving it to you. No problem. I can meet you tonight, Taylor.” Arthur held Bors's gaze, then nodded.

Bors understood. His whole body went on alert. Taylor? Why the hell was she calling his dad? He met Arthur's knowing eyes. A silent message passed between them. Damn. They were right. Jean was looking for Taylor because of what she knew. Taylor left Jean to squeal on him. And his dad would be squealed on. Why else would she call him?

“No, I wouldn't say you're an idiot, but you're bumbling,” his dad said. “Where are you, Taylor? Calm down. You don't know if you can trust me? I understand. You don't know me, after all. Ah, yes. Linda. Well, Taylor, my public office is closed and I don't conduct my meetings outside my office. But my home is fine. No, it's not that late. A cab? No, no need to hire a cab. I'll have my son fetch you. No, you did not make a mistake. One thing we hold dear is trust. Without it, the Knight family is nothing. Good. My son will be there. Okay. Good. Hello? His name is Bors. Bors Knight. Hello?”

Bors waited patiently as Arthur hung up his cell phone. His father always moved methodically, never in a hurry, but never, ever late. “Lost connection. No need to go looking for Jean's woman after all. She's staying at the Oyster Bay Cottage. Pick her up and bring her here, Bors. She said she doesn't have a car and she can't walk.”

“Right now?”

“Chance, dear boy. Don't let it slip out of your hand.”

“Right.”

“Tonight, dear?” Katherine asked.

“Darling, sorry I offered our home, but she sounded scared and I don't trust what's out there. Jean's men could be on her tail right now. Son, what do you think about calling for a backup?”

Bors thought for a moment. “If Jean's men had already found her, they would not wait. They'd pick her up. I think I can get her without any problems.”

“She sounded like a woman to me. Not a transvestite.”

“Arthur, do you think bringing her here is ... oh, never mind. I trust you, darling.”

“Thank you. Bors knows what to do. I don't think we should wait until tomorrow, son.”

“Yeah. Tonight would be great. Dad, she said she doesn't have a car?” Teejay didn't have a car, had a sore ankle, and no money. But she wouldn't be able to stay at Oyster Bay. It would cost her a fortune.

Fuckin’ hell!
Gawain saw Teejay go in the pawnshop.
I'll be damn. She must have pawned her jewelry.
What Simms said came back to him. Taylor played for Seattle Symphony. Teejay carried a case. Not the kind that Kirsten had in fifth grade though. His mind refused to believe that Teejay wasn't Taylor, but his gut told him that the woman he carried and bought slippers for was one and the same. Taylor or Teejay—Jean's woman.

He fished the cell phone out of his pocket. “Dad, could you give me Taylor's number. I'll call just to listen to her voice.”

Arthur eyed him for a few seconds before he retrieved Taylor's number. “Sure.” He dictated the digits to Bors.

“Thanks, Dad.” He dialed the number, wishing he'd hear a different voice on the other line. After two rings, Taylor picked up.
Fuck.
His wish wasn't answered. He listened to Taylor say hello two times and waited for her to hang up. She didn't. Bors wanted to laugh at what she said, but the realization that the beautiful loony he had met earlier today was connected to Jean had his mood souring in a hurry. “I'll go.”
Taylor is Teejay.
Jesus Christ. Jean's woman had him dreaming about her.

“She answered?”

“Yeah.” He couldn't forget her voice. Sweet and so ... so Teejay.

“Got to act quickly, son. She's a woman,” Arthur added.

“And your meaning?” Katherine asked.

“Changeable mind. Like the wind. You never know what direction it might take. This is an opportunity our son shouldn't pass up.”

“Ah.”

Bors decided to take that moment to interrupt. He could almost see where this was going. His mom winning the argument. He didn't want to be around when that happened. “Be back soon.”

“You might want to check your email and see if Simms managed to send you Taylor's picture. At least you know who you are looking for here.”

“Dad, I already met her.” Bors stood up and fished the key out of his pocket.

“Really?”

“When?” Arthur and Katherine asked simultaneously.

“This afternoon.” Of all the women in the world, why did he have to go after Taylor? The woman who had, in a very short time, penetrated his skull to stay in his brain.

* * * *

“Hello. Hello. Judge Knight?” Taylor looked at her bars. None. Damn phone. Sighing, she tossed her phone on the couch. Too late to back out now.

She'd already pushed the rock down the hill and no way could she stop it. Squaring her shoulders, she stood in the middle of the room. There was nothing left but to trust Judge Knight. He sounded sincere, stern, and quite offended when she asked if she could trust him.

We shall see. Politicians, officers, and men in general use the word trust loosely. How will I know if Knight is different? Gah! Going to his house ... Oh, my God. Please let Linda be right about Judge Knight.

Arthur said trust is too important to him. Without it, he and his family would be nothing. But all men who'd come in and out of Jean's office said the same. Promised and sworn in to do their job the best they could and that they could be trusted. What made Judge Knight different? Other than she liked his voice, she knew nothing about him. Well, the world maybe littered with fork-tongued men and liars from the depths of hell, but there were still some good ones left. She hoped Judge Knight was one of them. Taylor took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. She would just have to believe she could trust him—for now.

Judge Knight said something about his son coming to pick her up when she lost the cell signal.
Damn cell phones
.

The sound of crunching gravel reached her ears. Someone was outside. Could it be the judge's son? No way. How close was this cottage to the judge's house? Bet not that close. When she came in here this afternoon, she saw only cabins. She ambled to the window and then peeked through the white shutters. No headlights and she didn't hear the sound of a car's engine. It must be her imagination playing tricks on her.

She'd been so used to being followed all the time that even now, alone for the first time, she couldn't help but feel a presence of someone watching her. But for sure, she heard someone walking outside. Or maybe an animal looking for food. What kind? Critters of the night, or animals like Jean's men. No way they could have had followed her here. If they did, they'd be in her face right now, forcing her to get in the car. They were trained to operate that way.

Her stomach rumbled the same time her cell phone rang. She didn't recognize the number, but the first three digits were the same as Judge Knight's number. She answered, but whoever was on the other line didn't reply. “Hello? I know you're there. I can hear you breathing. If you're trying to call a sex phone line, you dialed a wrong number,” she said. “Fine. Goodbye.”

She hung up, then peered back outside again. Seeing no one, she went back to the kitchen, walked over to the refrigerator, and opened it. It was empty except for the leftover salad in a plastic container that she bought earlier. She never had a salad that tasted like grass before. If she finished the other half, she might turn into a goat. Sighing, she closed the refrigerator. The kitchen was small, neat, and had everything she needed. Refrigerator, microwave, stove—except for food. She checked the cupboards, drawers, and cabinets. Yup, it had everything.

Shuffling sounds, like running footsteps made Taylor walk back to the living room. Someone was definitely out there. Peering through the shutters again, she noticed headlights. A car was coming toward her cabin. Could this be the judge's son? She kept on watching until the bright headlights shone on the long graveled driveway and then she saw it. A family of raccoons was outside. Nervous laugh escaped her lips.
Damn raccoons
. As soon as the smallest masked animal disappeared in the bushes, her attention focused on the approaching vehicle. Taylor could see now that it was a truck, not a car.

Blood started pounding in her ears.
Alrighty, here we go.
Finally, the truck stopped. Taylor couldn't see who it was in the driver's seat.
Christ Almighty, I am an idiot
. Tomorrow would have been a better day for a meeting. When the sun is up and she could see where she was going. But no, her impatience superseded her reasoning again.

Stomach churning, she recalled what Ray had told her.
Listen to your instinct. When in doubt, run.
Right now, her instinct told her to wait and see if this was Judge Knight's son here to pick her up.

Darkness once again covered her porch when the headlights went off. Keeping her weight on her good foot, Taylor waited for the inevitable knock. Two soft bells sounded and bounced around the room instead. “Not Jean's men for sure. That's comforting.”

She peeked through the peeping hole. It was dark. She forgot to turn the porch light on.
Crud
. Staring at her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, she turned it slowly.

“Yes?”

“Bors Knight. I'm here to—”

Taylor opened the door wider. “Oh, my God. You're Judge Knight's son?”

“I thought with my name and Gawain's, you'd figure out that Arthur Knight is my father.”

Is this really the man I met earlier?
“No. Why would I think that? You weren't really a chip off the old block.”

“Oh? And you know this how?”

“Someone told me Judge Knight is a kind and respectable man.”

“Therefore his sons are expected to act accordingly.”

“Right.”

“You, Taylor, or Teejay, talk as if you were raised under a rock.”

No, raised under Jean's thumb.
“You don't know a thing about me.”

“I know something.”

“What?”

“That you have no sense of finding out who is behind your door before opening it.”

“I used my instinct.”

“What the ... what instinct?”

“You know, a woman's intuition. I felt that it was safe to open the door. So I did.” He got her there. What if someone followed her here? A burglar, a maniac, or someone Jean ordered who knew how to use a doorbell instead of force. Taylor bristled from Bors's intent look. “So you're here to give me a ride?”

“Anytime you're ready.”

“What's up with you and giving me rides?” Taylor sighed. “Let me grab my purse.” She turned, careful not to put pressure on her sore ankle. The pain medicine she took earlier eased the pain tremendously and she could probably walk without limping, but she didn't want to take a chance of hurting her ankle again.

“How's the ankle?”

“Still sore, but not as bad.”

“Do you need to be carried, or can you walk?”

“I am perfectly capable of walking, thank you. Just give me a minute.”

“With your speed, it'll be Christmas before you get to your purse.” Bors walked inside, then shut the door. “Where is it? I'll go get it.”

An arm's length distance was all that separated them. She could smell his scent. Fresh. Clean. Like the outdoors. Lord Almighty! He wore a crisp white shirt with its front tucked in his low rider, dark blue wrinkled jeans that he must have found at the bottom of his hamper and yet looked incredibly sexy in it. Scruff, but clean boots peeked from under his hem, clean ruffled hair, and a fresh masculine scent. What a transformation.

Earlier, she had a glimpse of how handsome he was, but nothing prepared her for this. Without his coat, she could see the outline of his body packed with muscles. Not large like the guys in body building contests. His six foot-two, frame was too tall for her own five-foot-five one. He reminded her of the delicious model she saw once in the dressing room.
Potent, masculine, rough.
Qualities she admired in the heroes she often read about in her racy pocket books. However, something told her that behind those disarming, charming smiles, a formidable and dangerous man hid. It was as if he wouldn't hesitate to hurt someone if need be.