Sweet Caroline's Keeper (5 page)

When Gavin and she had boarded the
Lenore,
he had pulled her aside and said, "You'll be the most beautiful woman here tonight."

Gavin was always complimenting her, saying all the things she supposed most women liked to hear, which made her wonder if Gavin's womanizer reputation wasn't well founded. They had been dating on and off for the past few months. More off than on, but that was her doing, not his. When she'd made it perfectly clear after their third date that she had no intention of hopping into bed with him, she had assumed he wouldn't be back. She'd been wrong. After that, his pursuit of her had intensified, as if he liked the challenge. Perhaps he believed he could wear her down with his gentlemanly charm. It was past time for her to be totally honest with him. She liked Gavin well enough, enjoyed his company occasionally and was inordinately flattered by his attention, but she wasn't in love with him and never would be. Call her old-fashioned, but she wanted to wait for love, wanted her first time to be with a very special man.

Caroline strolled along the deck of the
Lenore,
the motor yacht Fletcher had inherited from his father. Preston had purchased the yacht new when he'd married Lenore and took her on a honeymoon cruise in the Caribbean. As a child Caroline had loved the three summer vacation trips aboard the wide-beam cruiser. Fletcher had kept the yacht in perfect condition, and the vessel maintained the original cockpit and gorgeous oak interior throughout. Below were three staterooms with their own baths and the galley up layout offered a deck-level powder room, too.

Fletcher kept the yacht anchored at the marina and often loaned the boat to friends for excursions in the bay. Much like his father before him, Fletcher was known to be generous to those nearest and dearest to him.

A balmy spring breeze swept across the deck, caressing Caroline's hair. As the evening had worn on, she'd grown tired of dancing, first with Gavin, then later with Fletcher and several of his friends, each progressive dance partner just a little drunker than the one before him. She had lost track of Gavin in the throng of well-wishers, about thirty minutes ago, shortly after Brooke had blown out the candles on her enormous birthday cake and ripped into the stack of elaborately decorated gifts. Caroline was more than ready to head back to St. Michaels right now and wished she could locate her date. As she had made her way along the congested deck, she had asked people she knew if they'd seen Gavin, but no one seemed to have any idea where he was. She couldn't help wondering if he'd found some willing female and was making use of one of the staterooms.

Why on earth would you continue dating a man you thought capable of having sex with another woman while on a date with you?
she asked herself.
Because you didn't want to come to this party alone, that's why.

As Caroline tried to find a less-congested area on the yacht so she could at least breathe without smelling liquor or cigarettes, her mind filled with thoughts of her own upcoming birthday. She had never had a gala celebration like the one Fletcher was hosting for Brooke, but since she'd turned thirteen, her birthdays had been special events. Made special by one person. One man.
David.

Each year a gift. A signed card. A birthday cake delivered by a local bakery. And balloons equal in number to her age. Since that first year when she had felt so alone, after her mother had sent her to live with Aunt Dixie and Lyle, she had never again dreaded a birthday. Because of David's generosity.

She longed to meet her benefactor, but after years of having her request to meet with him and thank him personally denied by his attorney, Caroline had finally accepted the fact that for some reason known only to him, David did not want the two of them to ever meet. Over time she had played out more than one scenario in her mind. Perhaps he was very ugly and even deformed—a true beast of a man. Or maybe he was married and thought his wife might be jealous of all he had done for an old friend's daughter. Whatever the reason, David had become a mystery she dreamed of one day solving. She could not deny that she had built his image into one of a knight in shining armor, someone who would willingly slay dragons for her.

She couldn't explain to anyone why she loved a man she'd never met, why she believed that for the past fifteen years David had been the one constant in her life, the only adult who had never betrayed her, never left her, never stopped loving her. As a child she had clung to his phantom image, thinking of him as a substitute father, a protector and a benefactor. Because she had lost her own father and two stepfathers, and then her mother had abandoned her, she had transferred her desperate need for these lost parental figures and loved David as if he had truly been in her life.

David's presence in her life, albeit from afar, had been like a light at the end of a lonely tunnel and she had developed an attachment to his kindness when she had felt herself to be nothing more than an unloved and unwanted child. Even Aunt Dixie's love and concern had not been enough to fill the void she had felt. But somehow knowing that David cared, that David would always be there for her, he had in an almost miraculous way made her feel less alone, less abandoned, less unloved.

She wasn't quite sure when her affections for David had begun to change, to alter from a child's adoration to a woman's admiration and respect. For many years now, her dearest wish had been to meet this special man who had cared so greatly for her all her life. And she couldn't deny that in her heart of hearts, she fantasized that David would become a real part of her life.

Suddenly someone near her gasped. "We're moving."

Another said, "I didn't know Fletcher was going to give us a trip out into the bay as a finale for Brooke's party."

Caroline sighed and shook her head. Now she was stuck aboard, probably until the wee hours of the morning. She continued making her way around the deck, finding it less crowded toward the aft side. She walked past a handful of couples wrapped in each other's arms as the
Lenore
left the dock. At last she was alone, with only the sea breeze around her and the starry sky overhead. She had never been a party girl, not even as a teenager, and now less than ever. She much preferred small, simple dinners at home with a few well-chosen friends. At this precise moment, she would much rather be sitting on her back porch, barefoot and in a pair of tattered old shorts, than dressed to the nines and bored out of her mind.

Suddenly, without any warning, someone came up behind Caroline. She sensed the hovering body before she actually felt it as it pressed against her back. Was it Gavin? Had he finally come looking for her? As she started to turn around, she found herself trapped, held in place by the man's big
arm, which quickly draped around her. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could make a sound, a foul-smelling rag covered her nose and mouth. She whimpered as her head began to spin. Overwhelmed by complete helplessness, she quickly drifted off into a semiconscious state. The very last thing her fuzzy brain registered was the feeling of being lifted. Raised up into the air and over the railing. Then released.

Floating. Down. Down. Down. And into the water.

Chapter 4

David
had no idea why Sam Dundee had summoned him to his island home, but David's gut instincts warned him of trouble. He had met the owner of Dundee Private Security and Investigation Agency the first day he'd come to work there. The big boss had flown into Atlanta to personally introduce his newest agent to Dundee's CEO, Ellen
Denby
, who normally did the hiring and firing. David had gotten this job because Ellison Penn knew Dundee personally and had called in a favor. So maybe Ellison's involvement with Dundee was the reason David felt so uneasy as he followed along behind Manton, the seven-foot mahogany-skinned guardian of Dundee's private island retreat. David had realized almost instantly that the giant of a man was mute, but his keen black eyes seemed to look into David's very soul. The last thing David wanted was someone seeing past the David Wolfe facade and finding Aidan Colbert.

When they reached the porch of the huge raised cottage that sat perched atop a small hill, which gave the house a magnificent view of the gulf, Manton opened the door and held it for David. Once inside, David was greeted by Sam Dundee himself, who apparently had been waiting for him in the foyer.

Sam offered his hand. "I hope the boat ride from Biloxi wasn't too bad. The waters are a bit choppy this morning."

David exchanged a handshake with the big man. Although they were close in height, Sam had the build of a football linebacker, with massive shoulders and arms.

"The boat ride was fine," David replied.

"Join me in the den," Sam said. "I have another guest who came in late last night and he's anxious to speak to you."

David's stomach tightened. Another guest? He vanquished several thoughts and settled on one. Ellison Penn. There was no one else it could be. But why would Ellison risk contacting him personally? They had both broken several cardinal Peacekeepers' rules in order to bury Aidan Colbert and resurrect him as David Wolfe two and a half years ago.

Sam led David to the den, which was Caribbean light and airy. Cream walls. Massive windows, open to catch the spring breeze and illuminate with morning sunlight. Overstuffed chairs and sofa. An ornately carved blond oak desk, placed in front of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, dominated the room. Behind the desk, in the large cream leather swivel chair sat Ellison Penn. Ellison's attire of tan slacks and navy-blue short-sleeved shirt took David aback; he didn't think he'd ever seen the white-haired gentleman in casual clothes before. The man's friendly gray eyes were as deceptive as his healthy tanned face and gregarious smile. Ellison Penn looked like any affluent American businessman. One would assume this seventy-year-old gentleman incapable of harming a fly. But David knew better. This grandfatherly-looking man, as the commander of the secret squad of Peacekeepers agents, had over a period of twenty years ordered the assassination of several dozen people.

Ellison rose to his full six-foot height. "Good to see you,

Mr. Wolfe. I appreciate your meeting me on such short notice."

David stared at his former boss, a man who had served as his mentor for many years. Ellison held a thin file folder in his hand. "Mr. Penn." David nodded.

"I'll leave y'all alone." Standing in the doorway, Sam glanced at Ellison and then at David. "Lunch will be in an hour. Jeannie and I would be pleased if both of you would join us before Mr. Wolfe returns to Biloxi this afternoon."

"We'd be honored to join you and your lovely wife," Ellison said.

Sam closed the den door, sealing the two men together within the privacy of the room.

Inclining his head toward the door, David said, "He doesn't know who I am. . .or rather who I was, does he?"

"No one knows, except the two of us. Safer that way." Ellison rounded the side of the desk and came toward David. "I trust Sam implicitly, but he's safer not knowing your true identity."

"Why are you here?" David asked. "Or better yet, why did you have me summoned here?"

"Let's sit." Ellison indicated the sofa.

Ellison took a seat, laid the file folder on his lap and relaxed against the enormous cushions. Sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, David stared inquisitively at the file folder.

"As you know, Caroline McGuire inherited the house on Sheffield Street in Baltimore when her mother died," Ellison said.

David nodded but remained silent. What was he supposed to say?
Yes, I well remember that house, that December night and what transpired between Caroline's stepfather and me.

"Unknown to us, the house had a hidden corridor in the basement." Ellison ran his fingertips around the edge of the folder. "It was probably constructed by the original builder, but there are no blueprints on record for the old house, so there's no way of knowing for sure." Ellison kept his gaze fixed on the folder. "When Caroline and members of her cousin Lyle's church were working in the basement, they found the hidden passageway and a small, portable safe that Preston had put there."

Now Ellison had gained his attention. David's heartbeat accelerated. A secret passageway? A hidden safe? "Were they able to open the safe?"

Ellison nodded. "Yes, Caroline finally figured out the combination and was able to open the safe."

"I assume there was something inside—something important. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"The safe was empty—" Ellison paused for effect "—except for an envelope. And inside that envelope was a letter Preston had written to his wife, Lenore." Ellison lifted the folder and handed it to David. "We didn't get our hands on the original, so this is only Gavin Robbins's account of the letter that Caroline showed him."

David flipped open the folder, scanned the typed page and cursed under his breath. "
Goddammit
!"

"Somewhere out there Preston Shaw left some damning evidence against some very important people," Ellison said. "People who have, for the past fifteen years, thought they were safe. Leaders of the Loyalists Coalition who ordered Preston to kill Senator Harwell."

"How did Caroline react to the letter? And Fletcher Shaw? What did he have to say?"

"Gavin tried to convince them to let the matter drop. He told them that after all these years—"

"Let me guess. . ." David bounded off the sofa, slammed the folder against the palm of his hand and glared point-blank at Ellison. "Caroline is determined to find out what the key unlocks. She wants to find out who killed her stepfather and why."

"Since she discovered the letter and the key, she's been relentless in pursuing the search." Ellison rose to his feet.
"
She's tried the locks on every door in the house on Sheffield Street, but to no avail. And she is in the process of contacting everyone who ever knew Preston. She even telephoned me, but I was able to avoid taking her call."

"Sooner or later, you'll have to talk to her." Years ago David had feared something like this would happen. During the weeks and months directly following Preston Shaw's death, the Peacekeepers had kept a vigilant watch over Shaw's wife, son and stepdaughter. Then when nothing had materialized, no evidence to point the finger at Shaw's accomplices in the Senator Herbert Harwell assassination scheme, David had hoped that Caroline was safe. That she would always be safe. "If these people find out she has a key that will unlock the evidence against them, then Caroline is in danger. You'll have to keep her under surveillance. . . make sure she's—" The look in Ellison's eyes, a mixture of regret and sadness, warned David of bad news. "What's happened? Is Caroline all right?" David's heartbeat roared in his ears.

Ellison grasped David's arm, manacling his biceps through the material of his shirt. "While Caroline was attending a party aboard Fletcher Shaw's yacht, someone chloroformed her and dumped her into the bay."

Every muscle in David's body tensed. Every nerve screamed. He jerked free of Ellison's grip, narrowed his gaze and glared at the bearer of evil tidings. "Is she. . .?" He couldn't bring himself to say the word. The file folder slipped from his hand and sailed smoothly down to the floor.

"She's alive," Ellison said. "No thanks to our would-be assassin, however. If his plan had worked, Caroline's body might not ever have been found. It would have probably been hours before anyone aboard the yacht discovered her missing."

"She's alive?" David released the breath he'd been holding. "Does that mean she's all right?"

"That means she's fine and recuperating at home after a brief stay in the hospital. And she's understandably unnerved." Ellison shook his head. "I'm afraid the police got involved, but they aren't overly concerned. Considering the fact that the yacht was filled with drunken partygoers, they assume Caroline had been drinking and might have accidentally fallen overboard."

"If you had someone watching her, why didn't—"

"It seems that Gavin got sidetracked by a rather luscious blonde," Ellison admitted sheepishly. "Not conduct I approve of in any of my agents, but as you know, Gavin has a weakness for the ladies."

"And this is the man who was only recently promoted to the number two position at Peacekeepers?" David wanted to smash something—anything—but preferably Gavin Robbins's face! "Caroline needs a twenty-four-hours-a-day bodyguard. They've already tried to kill her once to stop her from using the key. They'll try again and again, if necessary, until they put a stop to her investigating."

"You're right, on both counts," Ellison agreed. "These people—whoever they are—will continue their efforts to stop her permanently. Therefore, she needs constant protection."

"We can dispatch someone from Dundee's. . . Ah. . . Has Sam already chosen someone to. . .?"

"Fletcher Shaw got in touch with his lawyer and told him to find the premier agency in the country and request then-best bodyguard for his stepsister, so naturally the lawyer recommended Dundee's. I made a recommendation to Sam last night That's why he telephoned you and requested your presence here today."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I don't know of a man on earth who has a bigger stake in protecting Caroline McGuire than you do." Ellison clamped his hand down on David's shoulder.

David swallowed hard. "No. Not me." Surely Ellison wasn't suggesting that he act as Caroline's bodyguard. The idea was out of the question. There could be no face-to-face contact with Caroline. Not ever.
You were ordered not to go near her. You were allowed to be her caretaker only from a distance.

"Aidan Colbert is dead," Ellison said. "There is no connection between David Wolfe and him."

"It would be wrong for me to take this assignment."

"I thought you'd jump at the chance. You've acted as her secret guardian, her protector, her keeper for nearly fifteen years." Ellison squeezed David's shoulder. "Tell me that you believe there's another man who is capable of keeping watch over Caroline the way you can. Tell me that everything within you isn't chomping at the bit to go to her side as quickly as possible." Ellison released his hold on David and met his gaze. "This is your chance for redemption."

"Do you think I need redemption?"

Ellison held up his hand in a stop gesture. "Don't try to convince me that you haven't been eaten alive with guilt ever since that night. Do you think I don't know what it did to you having to confront Caroline only moments after you had killed her stepfather?"

Ellison was right and he damn well knew it. Of all the assignments Aidan Colbert had completed as a Peacekeeper none had tormented him the way that first assassination had. There had been no doubt in his mind that he had done the right thing, that Preston Shaw had to be eliminated. In that instance as in many that had followed, he had done his duty, had lived by the Peacekeepers' code, and his actions were those of an honorable man doing a dirty job for his country. Innocent people sometimes got in the way and were hurt or killed. But not by him. Never by him. Only that one time when the innocent victim had been Caroline McGuire. Memories of her still haunted him. It was her little cherubic face he saw in his nightmares, that terrified look in her eyes. The look of a child who knew death awaited her. He had seen that fear in another child's eyes once, long before the night of Preston Shaw's execution. When he had recognized the terror in Caroline's eyes, her face had been overlaid with the features of another. His little brother Brendan.

"Are you all right?" Ellison asked.

"What?" David blinked several times, bringing himself out of a bad place, an evil moment from his childhood that plagued him to this day. "Yes, I'm all right And yes, I'll take the job as Caroline's bodyguard. You're right about me. You know that I would die before I'd let anyone harm her."