The Doctor's Defender (Protection Specialists Book 3) (10 page)

She missed the grin, longed for him to put his arms around her, making her feel safe.

“Upstairs, now!”

His whispered command galvanized Brenda into action. She didn’t question him. He was here to protect her, and she trusted him to do just that. She grabbed Felicia’s arm and ran for the stairs with Kyle right behind them.

As they hit the top stair, the sound of breaking glass sent shards of panic along Brenda’s nerve endings.

“To the back bedroom,” Kyle said, his voice low, urging them forward. He pushed the door open. “Inside. Lock the door and don’t open it until I tell you.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked, reluctant to let him face this threat alone. They were dealing with a killer; two people had already died. She didn’t want him to be a third. “Stay with us.”

He ran a knuckle down her cheek. His sudden tenderness, the way his whole body gentled, rocked her. “I’ll be right outside this door. No one’s getting to you without going through me first.”

A fresh wave of panic washed over her. He’d die protecting them. The thought filled her with a deep anguish that felt like a physical blow. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

His eyes widened slightly. Then he grinned. “Don’t worry. I can handle this.”

“But what if...” Tears burned her eyes. His death would be another burden for her to carry.

He pressed a finger lightly to her lips. “Shhhh. Trust me. And say a quick prayer.”

Pressing her lips together to keep from begging him not to leave, she nodded.
Please, God, keep him safe.

He stepped back, pulling the door closed with him. Brenda’s heart squeezed tight. If anything happened to him...

Felicia put her arm around Brenda’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine. This is what he’s good at.”

She told herself Felicia was right. He was a SEAL, trained to take out bad guys. But even knowing that couldn’t stop the terror from invading her mind and her heart. In such a short span of time, she’d come to rely on him in a way she’d never done with anyone else. He’d become dear to her. Stunned, she realized her heart had become involved. And she didn’t know what to do about it.

“You care for him,” Felicia stated softly.

“Yes,” she admitted quietly. Cared. Such a simple and generic word. Caring meant friendship, mutual enjoyment of each other’s company. Caring meant she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. All true.

But she couldn’t let herself go beyond caring. He was a temporary fixture in her life. She had a job she longed to return to. Having deeper feelings for her bodyguard would only lead to heartache. She had enough of that going on right now with her father’s diagnosis to voluntarily ask for more. As much as she liked and cared for Kyle, she couldn’t let her heart become any more attached, because it would hurt too much when he left. And leave he would.

Her life was in Chicago. His wasn’t. End of story.

As minutes ticked by, her anxiety grew, compelling her to search the room for something, anything, for her and Felicia to defend themselves with. Where was Kyle? Was he just outside the door, or had he gone hunting for the intruder? Or was he lying somewhere in the house, hurting and possibly dying while a madman searched for her?

She yanked a brass table lamp off the bedside stand and tested its weight. She could do some damage with this. But it wouldn’t stop a bullet.

The sound of sirens announcing the arrival of the police brought welcome relief. Both from the fear lodged in her throat like a rock and the thoughts of Kyle hurt tying her insides up in knots.

A knock on the door jump-started her heart.

“It’s safe. You can unlock the door,” Kyle said.

Hearing Kyle’s voice eased the lump of dread from her throat. She unlocked the door and pulled it open. Kyle stood there, unharmed, with that cocky smile she was beginning to grow used to.

She fought the need to touch his face and prove to herself he was okay. Her stomach clenched, and the urge to fly into his arms and cling to him in relief welled. It took every ounce of control she possessed to resist.

Wrapping her arms around her middle and firmly tucking her hands away, she asked, “What happened?”

“Guy bolted when he heard the siren.”

“Did you see him? What did he look like?” Brenda asked, still reeling that they’d been found.

“He was dressed all in black. Didn’t get a look at his face.” He held out his hand. “Time to roll.”

Slipping her hand into his, she felt the strength in his grip and hoped like crazy that her heart would have as much strength to resist the allure of her bodyguard. Because if she didn’t, the eventual heartache would cut her to the quick.

A cut she wasn’t sure she’d recover from.

NINE

“H
ere we go,” Kyle said, pushing open the door to the hotel room he’d just secured for the night while they waited for Trent Associates to secure a safe house.

After leaving the cabin in Winthrop Harbor, Kyle had made arrangements for Felicia to fly to Boston to visit Kaitlin. He wanted Felicia out of harm’s way.

He’d tried to talk Brenda into a trip to Massachusetts as well, but that suggestion went over like a lead balloon. The woman stubbornly refused to travel far from Chicago in case her father’s condition worsened. She wanted to be here for him and her mother.

Kyle didn’t blame her. He’d have felt the same if it were his sister who was ill.

Brenda squeezed past him to enter the hotel room. The scent of her lightly floral perfume filled his head, making him want to nuzzle her slim, graceful neck. She stopped in the middle of the room near the king-size bed and turned around to pin him with a quizzical look. “Where are you staying?”

He grinned. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

She arched an eyebrow. He moved to open the connecting door and then tapped on the closed connector to the next room. “I’ll be in here.”

Visibly relaxing, she set her shopping bag with her clothes and toiletries on the bed. “Now what?”

“Rest.”

“I’d rather go see my father,” she said, worry clouding her eyes.

Lebowitz had called with the news that Mr. Storm had been admitted to the hospital with pneumonia. The detective had assigned a guard for Brenda’s father as a precaution.

Kyle shook his head. “No can do. I’m not letting you anywhere near Heritage Hospital until this maniac is caught.” There were too many variables he couldn’t control. Too much at stake. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. If he were honest with himself, his reasons had more to do with how much he cared for her than the fact she was his protectee.

“Dad’s not at Heritage,” she pointed out. “He’s at Chicago Memorial, which should be safe, right? You said Detective Lebowitz has guards posted at his door. If he’s safe, then I’d be safe.”

Her hopeful tone affected him more than he wanted to admit. He didn’t want to take chances with her life, but she made a good point. There were guards on-site; the place had more security, lots of cameras. And hopefully, their bad guy wouldn’t have access the way he did at Heritage. “I’ll call Chicago Memorial in the morning and talk to their security department. If we can work out some reasonable security measures, we’ll go.”

A soft smiled played at the corners of Brenda’s mouth. “Thank you.”

The need and vulnerability in her eyes, on her face, shot straight to Kyle’s heart. He didn’t question himself when he took two long strides to her side and gathered her close to his chest. He normally didn’t get so personally invested with his protectees. Keeping an emotional distance usually wasn’t a hard thing for him. Sure, he’d remained friends with a few of his past assignments. But holding Brenda so close, feeling her arms wrapped around his waist, her small, yet strong hands on his back, felt like more than friendship. The longing to kiss her had him tightening his hold.

His mind warred with his heart.

Be a professional,
his mind advised, but his heart wanted nothing more than to give in to the affection and attraction filling his chest.

This is a dangerous road,
his head reminded him.

You live for danger,
his heart shot back.

Don’t go making promises you can’t keep,
his mind cautioned. His heart didn’t have an answer to that.

You are not her future.
His mind and his heart were in agreement there.

Time to beat feet and regroup. Because the last thing he’d ever want to do was hurt Brenda by leading her to believe he and she...they could ever be a couple.

He loosened his hold and eased her away from him.

Her brown eyes, so full of trust and something else that made his heart stammer, searched his face, looking for something he couldn’t give her. It was better to ignore what was building between them. For both their sakes.

“I’ll be right next door if you need anything,” he said.

With a nod, she stepped back, increasing the distance between them. “I’ll knock if I need you.”

“You
scream
if you need me,” he said. “Keep the connecting door ajar.”

“I will.”

He left her room and entered the room next door. He cracked open the connecting door, gratified and disconcerted at the same time to see she’d left the connecting door to her room wide open. So like her heart. He doubted she even realized how open she’d become over the past few days. All the sharp edges were a defense mechanism to safeguard the soft, wonderful woman inside. A woman he knew deserved so much better than a man like him.

* * *

The next morning, after talking with Chicago Memorial’s security staff and arranging for extra guards, Kyle escorted Brenda to see her father on the sixth floor. The room was small and consisted of a bed, a wall-mounted TV and a cart with supplies. Her father lay in the bed with an IV and tubes running in and out of his body. As Brenda went to her father’s side, Kyle marveled at her composure.

Her father didn’t look so good. And Kyle could see the toll it was taking on Brenda by the lines of worry bracketing her eyes and pinching the corners of her lush mouth. But she remained poised and calm. Focused.

Must be a doctor thing, because Kyle was struggling and the man lying in the bed wasn’t even related to him.

Suddenly, visions of another hospital room flashed jaggedly in his mind. He heard the soft beeping sound of the monitors, the smell of antiseptic, the nondescript walls. All those horrible memories served to transport Kyle back in time to when his mother was sick.

His stomach pitched, and vague nausea welled. He wanted to turn around and run out the door. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Brenda needed him.

Or rather, his client. He couldn’t let himself forget the nature of their relationship, no matter how much a part of him wished it were otherwise.

He wasn’t a part of this family. He was an outsider, so staying back, out of the way, was the professional thing to do. He took a position near the door. Hospital security would patrol the corridor, and Lebowitz would keep a cruiser in the area. Still, he kept an alert vigil.

All the necessary precautions had been made to ensure Brenda’s safety; he’d done all he could, had put every ounce of himself into protecting her. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be hurt, even if he didn’t believe anybody could ever be one hundred percent safe. He’d seen too much to ever have complete peace of mind or to let complacency take root.

But he had a sinking feeling as he watched her hovering over her father that the hurt she would most likely experience would be more damaging than a physical blow.

He wanted to protect her physically
and
emotionally. And he wanted to be the one to comfort her in her time of need, wanted to be by her side and help her through the difficult days to come.

He wanted to be more than her bodyguard, more than just the guy shadowing her because it was his job to do so.

Talk about losing his composure. Losing focus. These kinds of thoughts could get them both killed.

* * *

The sickly pallor of her father’s face made Brenda’s stomach churn. She’d recognized the look, seen it in patients. But every fiber of her being wanted to deny this was her father. He’d always been a larger-than-life type of guy. She never would have thought she’d see him laid low by anything.

Dark circles beneath his eyes twisted her up inside. A pervading helplessness seeped in. Grief jammed her breath in her throat so that she couldn’t even form words.

She checked his chart and approved of the doctor’s use of medication. The heart monitor showed a good rhythm. His blood pressure was a little low but acceptable. She fluffed her dad’s pillows. Adjusted his covers. Poured him some water. Anything to keep her hands busy and her mind from breaking down. Seeing him in the hospital was so much worse than seeing him ill at home. Here, in her own territory, his sickness seemed so much more real, so much more difficult to handle because she knew what he faced, understood the complexities of his disease and the treatments available. Treatments that may or may not help.

God has a plan.
The words rang inside her head as clearly as if Kyle had spoken them. She glanced at him where he stood by the door. His jaw was set, his hands clasped behind his back, his feet braced apart. He made an imposing figure. Her bodyguard. Her heart did a little fluttering in her chest. And her breathing eased a bit.

Lord, I want to trust You have a plan.
She sent the silent words heavenward. Of course she meant with her father, but a little part of her wondered what plan God had for her. For her and Kyle.

“Stop fussing, Brendy,” Dad said.

She paused, bringing her focus back to her father. He hadn’t called her by that nickname for several years. Guilt for once upon a time yelling at him to never call her that ridiculous name clogged her throat. She was thankful to hear him say her name, period.

She gave him a tender smile and managed to ask, “Can I get you anything, Dad?”

His expression softened. “No. I won’t be here long. Once the antibiotics kick in, I’ll be good as new.”

The doctor in her knew the truth, but she didn’t want to argue that point. She didn’t want to douse his hope. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s at her Bible study. I figure the ladies are probably praying for me as we speak.”

Brenda’s smile widened. “I’m sure they are.” After a heartbeat, she added, “I went to church yesterday with Kyle.” She knew he’d appreciate knowing that.

His eyebrows rose and gladness entered into his dark eyes. “I’m glad, Brenda. It’s times like this we need to cling to our faith.”

Normally, Brenda physically recoiled if her father said such things. Her logical side would discount his faith. But not today. Today she simply accepted her father’s belief in God and didn’t judge its validity. She glanced at Kyle, knowing he was responsible for her change in perspective. He met her gaze with a level look that sent her pulse skipping. She nodded slightly, answering his unspoken question. Yes, she had faith. He rewarded her with one of his breath-stealing grins. She went all gooey inside.

“Have they caught the person trying to hurt you?”

Her father’s question brought her attention back to him and slammed the situation home. As safe as she felt at the moment, she wasn’t. Somewhere out there someone wanted her dead. And anyone who got in the way would pay the price. Two people already had. She prayed there wouldn’t be a third.

“No,” she answered, forcing her voice to stay even. “The police are working on it.” She didn’t want to tell him about the intruder at the cabin. It would only upset him.

“Where are you staying?”

“We’re in a hotel near Navy Pier.”

“Is it safe there?”

Kyle stepped forward to answer. “It’s safe for now. But I’m picky about her safety, so I’d like to get her out of the state.” He turned a stony look her way. “But she refuses.”

Dad turned his dark eyes on her. “Brenda, you do as Mr. Martin says. It’s in your best interest.”

“I know, Dad.” Her usually reliable bedside composure slipped and she took an emotional stumble. A bad one. Her eyes welled. A tear rolled down her cheek. Then another. “I’m trying. But I’m not going anywhere far away while you’re so sick.”

Tears welled in her father’s eyes. Surprise siphoned the oxygen from Brenda’s lungs. She’d never seen her father cry. She clasped his hand and held on tight.

“Then take
The Bella
out,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’d be safe in the middle of the lake and yet close enough to come back if the need arises.”

Stunned, Brenda drew in a quick breath. Her dad, who’d never let her take the boat out without him before, was offering up his prized possession...his pride and joy.
The Bella
was a sweet two-cabin vessel that could easily do six knots yet was so comfortable Brenda always forgot she was on the water. She swiped at her cheeks as surreptitiously as she could. “That’s generous of you, Dad.”

“The Bella?”
Kyle asked.

“A Beneteau 311 sailing yacht,” her dad answered with pride. “She’s a beauty. Brenda knows how to run her.”

Brenda met Kyle’s gaze. She could see his mind working. He gave a slow nod. “That would work.”

“Good. It’s settled,” her dad said. “Now if you two don’t mind, I’m finding it difficult to keep my eyes open.”

Knowing she should be affronted that the two men would decide her fate between them without consulting her, Brenda couldn’t quite dredge up any anger. Instead, she bent to kiss her father’s cheek. His skin felt cold against her lips. “You’re cold. I’ll get you another blanket.”

“That would be nice,” he replied as his eyelids drifted closed.

“We’ll tell the nurse on the way out,” she promised, though she didn’t think he heard her. He seemed to have fallen asleep already. A pang tugged at her heart. She and Kyle slipped out of the room. At the nurses’ station, Brenda stopped to talk to the woman at the desk while Kyle went to the elevator.

“My father would like another blanket,” Brenda told the nurse, whose name tag read Vera. “And if anything happens or you need to reach me, I have my pager.” She gave the woman her number.

“Will do, Dr. Storm,” Vera said.

Satisfied, Brenda joined Kyle at the elevator. He drew her to the side as the doors slid open. The car was empty. They stepped inside. The doors closed with a soft swoosh.

In the reflection on the stainless-steel door, Brenda noted how much taller Kyle was than her. He held himself with a straight spine, legs braced apart, hands down by his sides. She could feel the restrained energy coiled inside him like heat from a fireplace in winter. Though he had both feet firmly planted, she had no doubt he was primed to spring into action should a threat present itself. She supposed that came with his military training. She could only imagine the battles he’d fought, the fights he’d survived. His body reflected hard work and time spent building muscles not gained in a gym. A warrior.