The Doctor's Defender (Protection Specialists Book 3) (11 page)

He caught her gaze in the reflection. His blue eyes sparkled and one side of his mouth quirked. She’d been staring. She held his gaze, though she could feel a blush working its way up her neck.

The door opened, breaking the eye contact between them. He stepped out of the elevator car first, and then motioned her forward. As they walked out of the hospital his hand settled at the small of her back and sent jolts of awareness zinging up her spine. The heat she felt infusing her had nothing to do with the humidity hanging in the air and everything to do with the man at her side.

Unnerved by her reaction, she wasn’t aware they’d veered off the main walkway leading to the parking structure until Kyle said, “When I say go, run as fast as you can.”

“Wait. What?” she stuttered, trying to understand, but managed to put one foot in front of the other. Kyle didn’t answer. Anxiety kicked up a storm of nerves in her belly. Her breath hitched. She braced herself, fearing an attack of some sort.

He gave her a shove. “Go!”

She ran, aware of Kyle at her side, and then he put on the brakes and whirled around. She neared the end of the path. A garden lay before her. Flowers and greenery and benches scattered throughout provided a peaceful place for those waiting for loved ones to sit and find some comfort. If only that were the case now. Not sure what to do, which direction to take, she glanced back.

Fear exploded as she watched Kyle launch himself at a man dressed in black wearing a black hoodie pulled over his head and dark glasses.

Her heart rate quadrupled.

Frozen with fright, she could only stare as the men grappled, each working to gain the advantage.

It was then Brenda noticed the man held something black in his hand. He brought the device up and pressed it to Kyle’s side.

Brenda’s feet were moving even before the scream tore from her. “Kyle, watch out!”

* * *

Kyle heard the pop then two hot barbs hit his side. He’d seen the Taser, instantly recognizing the X26 model as he’d tackled the man following them. Stinging pain jolted through his system.

His abdomen muscle flexed.

He let out a roar.

Someone ran up from behind him. He felt hands on his back going for his weapon.

His attacker rolled away and jumped to his feet.

Jerking from the electric current humming along his nerve endings, Kyle stared in horror as Brenda faced the attacker, Kyle’s SIG clutched in her shaking hands.

No!
Kyle screamed inside his head.

She sighted down the barrel at the man as Kyle had taught her and squeezed the trigger. She jerked from the recoil.

The bullet hit the man in the shoulder. The assailant cried out and spun but didn’t drop. Clutching his shoulder, he fled the scene, his tennis shoes thwacking against the pavement.

Soft hands touched Kyle’s face. Brenda knelt beside him. She’d laid his weapon on the ground. “Kyle! Are you all right?”

He lay his head on the cement. He drew in a ragged breath. “No, can’t say that I am.”

“I’m going to remove the darts,” she said, her skilled hands going to work. With a quick, forceful yank, she ripped his shirt at the seam and flipped it back away from the barbs sticking out of his side. She cupped the skin surrounding one electrode with one hand, stretching the skin, and grabbed the tip of the barb with the other hand to yank it straight up and out of his flesh. With quick efficiency, she repeated the process with the second barb. He hissed as fresh bouts of pain momentarily burned through him.

When he could speak again, he said, “Good shot, Brenda.”

“I had an excellent teacher,” she replied with a wobbly smile.

Gingerly, he lifted the edge of his shirt. Twin red dents appeared in his flesh.

“Let me see,” Brenda insisted, batting his hand away when he went to probe around the marks. “Didn’t hit your ribs or break the skin.”

Kyle tried to ignore the gentle way her hands and gaze touched his side. His skin flamed at every point of contact. If she didn’t stop the sweet torture, he’d incinerate.

The sound of police sirens filled the air. Obviously someone had called the cops. Good. Saved him the effort.

“Tasers are a nonbloody way of taking down an opponent,” he commented through his teeth.

She let her hands drop away from him, much to his relief and disappointment. “It didn’t stop you,” she said.

A crowd had gathered. They were vulnerable out here in the open. He needed to get Brenda aboard her dad’s yacht ASAP.

He sat up and forced his legs beneath him. Brenda wrapped an arm around his waist, offering her support. He doubted she’d be able to hold him up if he started to go down, but the thoughtful gesture sent affection unfurling through him.

“That’s ’cause I’m invincible,” he quipped.

He’d been blessed was more like it. If the guy had had a gun and not a Taser, Kyle could have been a goner. Kyle was going to have Trent send some body armor his way.

Her gaze whipped to his face. “No, you’re not invincible. No one is. You could have been killed if...” Her mouth pressed together and she stepped back.

He cocked his head, missing having her soothing fingers on his skin, her supportive arm around his waist. “Is that concern I hear?”

And if it was, was it for him as a patient or for him as a man? Which did he want it to be? His heart clamored to answer. His brain locked out any response. He wasn’t her patient, nor was he her man. He was her bodyguard. Period.

“Of course I’m concerned,” she snapped. “If you’re dead then who’s going to protect me?”

“Ah, it’s all about you, then.”

To his amusement, she sputtered in outrage. “No, of course not. I just mean, you’re supposed to be protecting me. You can’t do that if you get yourself killed. You have to be more careful.”

She protested too much. But this wasn’t the time to press her, not after seeing her father and then the attack. “No worries. I don’t think God is finished with me yet. I’m sure He has some refining on me left to do,” he said. “Besides, I had you as backup.”

He still couldn’t get over seeing her shooting the bad guy. Admiration for her quick thinking and equally quick action wrapped around his heart, making the feelings he’d been trying to suppress expand until he thought he might burst.

She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by an invasion of law enforcement. Uniformed officers took their statements. Crime-scene technicians combed the area, putting up yellow caution tape and marking the blood trail left behind by the assailant with small orange, numbered cones. A few minutes later Detective Lebowitz arrived. Kyle explained what had happened.

Lebowitz turned to Brenda. “Had you ever seen the assailant before?”

“I couldn’t really tell what he looked like. He had on a hoodie tied tight around his face so I couldn’t see his hair color, and he had on dark glasses that covered most of his face.”

“What about you, Mr. Martin? Notice anything that could help identify the assailant?”

“He was scrappy, wiry. Knew how to use aikido.”

“That’s more than we knew about him a few hours ago,” Lebowitz stated. “I’ll have all the aikido dojos in town checked out. See if we can find some connection to Dr. Storm. We’ll also alert all the hospitals and medical clinics. He’ll have to go somewhere to have the bullet wound looked at.”

“Detective.” A crime-scene technician held out his gloved hand, revealing small disks printed with numbers. “From the Taser.”

“What are those?” Brenda asked.

Kyle smiled grimly. “The serial numbers on these pieces of confetti will tell the police where the Taser was sold and hopefully reveal the name of the purchaser.”

“That’s amazing,” Brenda said.

“It’s brilliant is what it is,” Kyle stated. “Too bad guns and knives don’t emit some sort of tracking device to be left at a crime scene.”

Brenda nodded. “How did he find us?”

Kyle had been asking himself that same question. “We weren’t followed here.” He was certain of it. But then he’d been certain they hadn’t been followed to Felicia’s,
either. Had the guy planted a tracker on the SUV? Time for a new set of wheels.

“Are my dad and mom in danger?” Brenda asked in a voice full of anxiety.

“I’ll personally make sure they have continued police protection, Dr. Storm,” Lebowitz said. “I have a guard outside your father’s room.”

“You have to find this maniac,” Brenda said, her voice shaking with fury and fear. “I can’t live like this. My parents shouldn’t have to live like this.”

Kyle covered her fisted hand with his as empathy knotted his chest.

Sympathy played in Lebowitz’s hazel eyes. “I know how hard this is, Dr. Storm. But you have to be patient. We’ll get the guy. In the meantime, you have Mr. Martin. He won’t let anything happen to you. He’s a Bronze Star recipient, making me think he’s good at what he does. I’ll be in touch.” With that Lebowitz walked away.

Obviously the detective had been doing some research on him. Kyle would have been surprised if he hadn’t. An embarrassed sort of pride knotted his chest as Brenda turned her curious, wide eyes on him. He didn’t need her looking at him as if he was a hero. He’d been doing what he’d been trained to do. What any one of the men in his unit would have done. It just happened to be him who had pulled his CO and two others out of an inferno. No big deal.

“Really? A Bronze Star? For what?”

He gave her a slow grin. “That’s classified. If I told you, I’d have to—”

She made a face. “I know. Kill me. That’s pretty cliché.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I was going to say I’d have to kiss you.”

TEN

I’
d have to kiss you.

Kiss me indeed,
Brenda thought, tightening her hold on the tiller.

She slanted a glance toward Kyle as his words reverberated around her head in time with the vibration of the boat motor as she maneuvered
The Bella
out of the harbor and through the rougher waters of Lake Michigan.

He sat with his legs stretched out in front of him on the starboard side, his back leaning against the railing. He didn’t seem to mind the spray of water or the wind tousling his blond hair. He looked relaxed, causal even.

Not like a man who’d just been zapped by a Taser.

Her stomach clenched at the memory of the red, angry sites where the Taser’s darts had dug into his flesh.

When she’d been inspecting the wounds, she’d noticed two harrowing-looking scars. The round puckering of a healed bullet wound and the jagged slash of raised skin that could have come only from a blade.

Empathy tightened her chest. She’d wanted to ask about the scars, but she knew him well enough now to know he’d only deflect with some smart-alecky remark. Or accuse her of flirting.

She didn’t flirt. Or rather she never had before.

But with him...

As if feeling her gaze, his head turned her way. His blue eyes collided with hers.

I’d have to kiss you.

She couldn’t help the tingle of excitement the very idea sent sliding through her. It had been a long time since she’d been kissed. Since she’d even wanted to be kissed. And now that he’d planted the idea in her head, it was all she could think about.

Like a girl not ready for the grown-up challenges she’d impulsively taken on, she panicked and looked away, pretending to check the rigging above his head.

What would it be like to be kissed by him? Would he be tender and giving, or passionate and demanding? The thought made her feel reckless and wild.

Just as being out on the lake made her feel free. And safe. She planned to drop anchor about three miles offshore. Close enough to make land quickly if needed. But far enough out to have a buffer of water between her and danger. Humidity thickened. In the distance, dark gray clouds brought the threat of the first fall storm, but that didn’t deter her from her goal. After the past few days, a little weather wasn’t going to keep her trapped on land with a madman waiting to kill her.

She forced her gaze forward. They sailed out of the harbor boundary. Heading the bow into the wind, she placed the motor into Neutral then clipped the halyard to the head of the mainsail. Releasing the boom vang, she hoisted the mainsail. The sound of the white polytarp sheet filling with wind was music to her ears.

Unbidden, Kyle fastened the main halyard line to a cleat, saving her the effort. Surprised he knew what to do, she nodded her thanks and cut the engine on the motor. The boat heeled leeward. She quickly worked to raise the jib. Once again Kyle lent his strength to secure the jib halyard and cleated off the line.

A job she normally performed while her father captained the boat. Would she ever sail with him again? Sadness washed over her. But she refused to give in to the pain. She needed to believe her father had time left. Time enough for them to take the boat out on the water again.

Back at the tiller, she turned the boat out of the eye of the wind. The sails grew taut, and they cut through the waves. Water sprayed on deck.

A sense of freedom wrapped around Brenda. Out here she could just be. No pressure to perform. Bad men with guns were far away. Out here she was safe. She caught the grin on Kyle’s face, the joy in his blue eyes. He felt it, too. He met her gaze. She smiled. He was a kindred spirit.

Time seemed to stand still and speed up all at once.

Aware of something happening between them, of the connection being forged, Brenda breathed deep, filling her lungs with fresh air and letting herself admit to the attraction, the affection she felt for her bodyguard.

Kyle Martin had caught her off guard. She’d never expected to like, let alone care for, her bodyguard. She respected and admired him. Trusted him with her life. Wanted to be more to him than a client.

But admitting the emotions didn’t mean she would do anything about the feelings bouncing around her head and her heart.

Out of self-preservation, she broke eye contact and shifted her gaze to the shoreline. Gauging they were at the point she’d charted on the nautical map, she released the sails, letting the vessel’s windage and motion provide the necessary backward propulsion. The boat bounced slightly on the gentle swells. Kyle lowered the anchor from the bow and fed out the anchor line, expertly snubbing it to the bollard along the craft. She stowed the sail and secured it with tie straps.

Only the sound of waves lapping at the hull and the occasional squawk of a seagull broke the silence.

“We did it,” Kyle said, making his way aft and resuming his seat.

She leaned against the wheel. “I didn’t know you knew how to sail.”

His grin was cheeky and made her toes curl inside her canvas deck shoes. “There’s a great deal you don’t know about me.”

But she wanted to know. She wanted to know everything there was to know about this man who’d sliced through her well-constructed reserve and found the tender underbelly of her heart, making her want things in life she hadn’t allowed herself to want in such a very long time.

He leaned back and shut his eyes. “It’s so peaceful.”

“I love it out here,” she admitted. Loved looking at him, too.

His eyes opened, the blue seeming even bluer. “It’s a nice boat.”

Another stab of sorrow shot through her. “Dad’s baby.”

Tilting his head, he asked, “Did you learn to sail on this craft?”

“No.” She moved to sit on the bench opposite him. It felt good to sit, to relax. “He had a different boat then. A small sloop.”

“Easier to learn on, I’d imagine.”

“Yes.” She yawned, realizing how tired she was. She hadn’t slept well the past few nights because of the fear, the worry and the man only a few feet away. Covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment, she said, “Excuse me.”

“No need for excuses. You’ve had a rough few days,” Kyle said as he reached across the space between them to put his hands over hers. “You go below and rest.”

His touch sent an electric current running up her arm. She held on tight. Yearnings flooded her senses. She wanted him to pull her into his arms. She wanted to feel the beat of his heart against her cheek as she lay her head against the solid strength of his chest. She wanted to lift her mouth to his...

Shaken by her longings, she forced herself to breathe and extracted her hands. Needing some space, she nodded. “Thanks.”

She quickly made her way below deck. Though everything inside of her wanted to go back to him, to ask him to hold her, to kiss her. She halted in the main saloon and pushed aside thoughts of Kyle. Instead, she focused on her surroundings. The gleaming teak and soothing blue crushed-velvet cushions made her smile. She remembered the first time she’d seen the boat after her father refurbished it. She’d teased him that it looked like a bachelor pad. He’d laughed, claiming her mom picked out the interior.

Brenda headed to the forward berth, her parents’ space, and lay on the bed, snuggling beneath the down comforter. The scent of her father’s aftershave lingered on the pillow. The comfort cocooning her in warmth was tempered with fear and worry.

When would this nightmare end?

And when it did and if she survived, what then?

She’d go back to her life. And Kyle would go back to his. That was the way it was, the way it had to be.

But the future never before looked so bleak.

* * *

Night fell, and with it the temperature. Kyle sought warmth and food below deck. The galley was well stocked with canned and dry goods. Trying not to make much noise that would disturb Brenda, he prepared their supper. A can of chili, a box of corn-bread mix that needed only oil and water. He heard the berth door open. He turned and Brenda stepped out. Her dark hair was mussed, her clothes wrinkled. She looked adorable as she blinked at him.

“What are you doing?” she asked on a yawn.

“Making dinner. Your parents keep the cupboards nicely stocked.”

“Can I help?”

His answer stalled when she started to finger-comb her hair. The mass spilled about her shoulders, and he had to fight the urge to run his fingers through the silken strands to see if they were as soft as they looked. He liked knowing there was this side of Brenda. So unlike the uptight, in-control surgeon he’d met a few days ago.

He flexed his fingers around the soup ladle, stirring the chili to get a grip. “You could set the table.”

She set about the task, and maneuvering in the tight quarters made Kyle acutely aware of Brenda’s soft curves every time he bumped into her. It was a relief when they finally sat down to their meal, because he didn’t know how much more he could take before he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Curious, he waited while she seemed to gather her thoughts.

“Earlier today you said something about God refining you. What did you mean by that?”

Surprised and glad that she’d feel comfortable enough and curious enough to ask about spiritual matters, he set his spoon down and formed his words carefully. “I was referring to Proverbs 17:3. ‘The refining pot is for silver and the furnace for gold, but the Lord tests the heart,’” he quoted.

Her eyebrows knitted together. “Tests the heart?”

“Not a pass-or-fail kind of test, but just as precious metals must be purified by heat, so do our hearts. God uses adversity to shape, mold and purify. To get rid of the dross and to prepare us for great blessing or great suffering.” He wasn’t sure how to make her understand. “It’s kind of a hard thing to explain. I’ll admit it took studying the Bible to really grasp the analogies.”

“I kind of get what you’re saying,” she said, her intelligent gaze thoughtful. “Silver has to be mined, then refined through a labor-intensive process, requiring time, patience, attention and care before it can become something precious and worthwhile. Something beautiful.”

A warm smile spread through him. “Exactly.”

Her mouth curved up in an almost shy smile. “I did go to Sunday school as a kid. I haven’t forgotten everything.”

His heart swelled and he reached across the expanse of the table to touch her hand. She was so beautiful. Smart, kind and caring. A woman worth loving.

Stunned by that conclusion, a humming sounded in his brain, and the world tilted.

Wait. That wasn’t an imagined sound.

His pulse skyrocketed.

Shoving his shocking thought aside, he cocked his head and listened. He’d heard an out-of-place noise. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

Heavy footsteps echoed in the main cabin like the blast of a gun. He had heard the whir of a motor. Someone was on the deck. His senses went to full-combat mode.

The alarm on Brenda’s face made his stomach clench. He grabbed his weapon from a drawer where he’d stashed it earlier. “Get in the cabin. Lock the door. Do not come out.”

She scrambled from her seat.

Before she could get to the berth, the door to the main cabin burst open and three AK-47-armed men dressed all in black stormed inside. They wore dark bandannas over the lower halves of their faces and black beanie caps over their heads so all that was visible were their eyes. Cold, menacing eyes.

Kyle recognized the men for what they were—
mercenaries. Here in Chicago. Whoever was after Brenda had cash and connections. He wondered why they hadn’t come in with a spray of gunfire.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” one of the masked gunmen said, gesturing with an AK-47.

Kyle’s finger twitched on his weapon’s trigger, but obviously he was outgunned. With a growl, he lowered his weapon. There was no way he could take down all three men before one of them started firing.

And that wasn’t an option. Brenda would most certainly be killed if he got twitchy, although he feared she may be dead before this night was over anyway. Guilt for failing to protect her burned like acid in his gut. How had they been found?

He lifted his chin and stepped in front of her. His body wouldn’t be much of a shield against the firepower aimed at his heart, but it was all he had, and he’d protect her with his life.

Not because it was his job, but because his feelings ran deep. Deeper than he even wanted to admit.

Lifting his hands and hoping there was still a way out of this, Kyle said, “We don’t want any trouble.”

One of the masked gunmen stepped closer. “Trouble don’t care. It’s here.”

Kyle held his ground. If the guy was dumb enough to come within striking distance, Kyle just might have a chance of turning this nightmare around. He took a half step closer. “What do you want?”

“We’ll get what we want when the doctor’s dead.”

Brenda gasped.

“Why?” Kyle moved forward, his muscles firing, ready to attack.

The business end of the AK-47 raised level to Kyle’s eyes. “Back off.”

The guy wasn’t so dumb after all. Kyle stepped backward. “You can either die now or with the doctor. Your choice.”

Assessing his options, Kyle stalled. “She at least deserves to know who wants her dead.”

“We’re not paid to answer questions,” the man barked out. “Now both of you, inside the bedroom cabin.”

Okay, so they didn’t intend to shoot them outright. Good. Excellent, actually. Maybe they had a shot at escaping. Kyle backed Brenda into the cabin. Once they were inside, the leader motioned for one of his goons to enter. The man secured their hands and feet with plastic zip ties before leaving, locking the door behind him.

“What are they going to do?” Fear, stark and vivid, flickered in her dark eyes.

His chest knotted.

She sat on the end of the bed as if her legs wouldn’t hold her up any longer. He didn’t blame her.

Kyle could come up with several scenarios. None of which ended well for them. He had to get them out of there fast. He sat next to Brenda and kicked off his shoes. With his bound hands, he managed to get his pant leg up to reveal his butterfly knife sheathed in a leather pouch strapped high on his calf.