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

As he drove he kept a vigilant eye out for a tail. Nothing. A half hour later they arrived at her parents’ Forest Park home. Behind a gated community, which provided twenty-four-hour security, the Storms’ residence was a large, gabled brick house with manicured hedges, Astroturf green lawns and flower beds with a kaleidoscope of colorful flora and visually interesting plants. A magazine-worthy home.

“Nice place,” Kyle commented. A far cry from the double-wide prefabricated place he’d called home as a kid. “You grew up in this house?”

“No. My parents bought this home after I’d graduated from med school.”

“Where did you live as a kid?”

She opened the passenger door. “Evanston.”

“Did you go to Northwestern?”

“I did. The university was practically in my backyard.” She climbed out of the vehicle and walked toward the house.

Kyle grabbed her suitcase from the back and followed her to the front door. Humidity made his shirt stick to his back. He glanced around, noting the quiet street and the other homes visible over the hedges marking the property lines. The hedges weren’t exactly the best for security—too many places a bad guy could slip through undetected.

He would have preferred a fence or a rock wall. Better yet, barbed wire.

Brenda opened the door. “Mom, Dad, I’m home.”

The temperature change between the outside and the inside was drastic. The sweat from the late-September humidity outside chilled on Kyle’s skin. Brenda rubbed her arms as goose pimples appeared.

As they stepped around the entryway corner, a well-dressed woman hastily shoved amber pill bottles into the drawer of the side table. A gray-haired man lay stretched out in a recliner. He adjusted the blanket covering him over his torso and legs. If he was cold, why not turn down the air conditioner? The place was like a meat locker.

“You’re here early,” her mother said, her voice sounding strained. Her red eyes made Kyle think she’d been crying recently. No doubt upset by Brenda’s brush with death.

The photos in Brenda’s apartment didn’t do Mrs. Storm justice. Kyle could see the resemblance between mother and daughter. Mrs. Storm’s dark hair was cut short to frame her youthful face. If not for the silver streaks, Kyle wouldn’t have guessed she was old enough to be Brenda’s mother. “We weren’t expecting you until later this evening. Are you all right?” Mrs. Storm asked.

“I’m fine, Mom.” Brenda went to her father’s side and pressed a hand to his forehead. “Dad, are you okay? You look feverish.”

Mr. Storm shooed her away. His eyes were not quite focused. “Stop your fussing. You’re not my doctor.”

“Just a cold, dear,” Mrs. Storm said quickly, though she wouldn’t meet her daughter’s gaze. “You know your father. Nothing for you to fret about.”

Kyle’s chest knotted at the hurt in Brenda’s pretty eyes as she stepped back.

“Brenda, please introduce your guest,” Mrs. Storm said.

“Mom, Dad, this is Kyle Martin of Trent Associates, the bodyguard the hospital hired,” Brenda said.

“We’re so thankful you’ll be protecting our daughter.” Mrs. Storm offered a smile.

“I will do my best, ma’am,” Kyle replied.

“Please call me Maggie.”

Mr. Storm held out a hand to Kyle. The effort seemed to cost him energy. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Mr. Martin.”

Kyle grasped the older man’s hand, noting how thin and fragile the bones felt. The man’s grip was stronger than Kyle would have thought given how ill he appeared. “Mr. Storm, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ned tells me you come highly recommended.” Mr. Storm’s gaze focused on Kyle. “Tell me what qualifies you to protect my only child.”

The man asked virtually the same questions as his daughter. “Ex–special operations, Navy.”

Releasing his hand, Mr. Storm gave an approving nod. “Excellent.”

One glance at Brenda told Kyle she wasn’t as appeased. He’d have some explaining to do. Came with the territory. “Glad we got that settled,” Kyle said. “I’m going to do a perimeter sweep.”

He lifted his right hand and gave a Cub Scout salute by touching his forehead with his index and middle fingers pressed together. He could feel Brenda’s gaze on his back as he walked out the front door. She’d have more questions. It seemed in her nature to be inquisitive. As long as she didn’t probe too deep, they’d get along fine.

* * *

“Something’s up with my parents. Dad doesn’t look good,” Brenda confided to Kyle later that evening when they were alone. Her parents had retired, leaving her and her bodyguard alone in the living room.

Here she was hiding at her parents’ house from some madman bent on hurting her, she had an annoyingly handsome protector by her side and her parents weren’t being straight with her.

She’d taken one look at her father when she’d arrived this afternoon and known he’d had a fever.

It was infuriating to stand by while her dad was sick and not be allowed to treat him. They’d spent tons of money for her to become a doctor, and though her specialty was general surgery, she was still an experienced physician able to do more than just cut people open. It hurt that even in this she didn’t measure up.

“You think it’s more than a cold,” Kyle said, his voice low. Light from the overhead track shone on him, shadowing his handsome features, making him appear mysterious.

Feeling a bit awkward with Kyle so close, she sat on the love seat, putting some distance between them. “They’ve both been acting so strange lately. We usually have Sunday dinner together, but the past two weeks they’ve canceled, saying they had something come up unexpectedly. A golf tournament one weekend and a retirement party the next. But...I’m not sure what to think. Dad’s lost a lot of weight. He’s never been heavy, but now he’s almost gaunt, haggard even.” Nothing like the stalwart, healthy man who’d taught her to sail.

“They’re your parents. Parents tend not to want to worry their children with their problems. Tomorrow you can ask more questions and press for answers.”

She heaved a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. I just wish I could do something now.”

“There’s nothing you can do tonight. He’s resting, and so should you.” Kyle held out his hand.

She slid her hand into his, and the roughness of his palm rubbed against hers, creating friction. Sparks shot up her arm as he helped her to her feet. Not unpleasant but very surprising. How could just holding someone’s hand create such chaos inside her? She’d never experienced anything like it before.

She extracted her hand. “You told my father you were ex–special operations for the Navy. What exactly does that mean?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “It means I’m special, in a good way.”

She shook her head. He’d been charming to her mother and respectful to her father all evening. But with her, he was the jokester. Why didn’t he want to talk about himself? Most men she knew did. “Seriously. What did you do in the Navy?”

“Swim.”

Exasperation sharpened her tone. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

His expression turned earnest. A look she liked on him. “I really did swim. My specialty was underwater reconnaissance and demolition.”

It sounded dangerous. But then she already knew he was a man who sought the rush, the buzz, of danger. It made for a great protector but not the type of guy a woman could pin her heart on. If she were interested in pinning her heart on any man. Which she wasn’t. “I’ll say good night now.”

“I’ll see you to your room,” Kyle countered. “After you.” He gestured toward the staircase.

He wasn’t kidding when he’d said he was sticking close. “I hardly think anything’s going to happen to me on my way to my room.”

“I’m cautious. Plus, I need to know where you are. Just in case.”

Just in case the lunatic after her tried something here in her parents’ home. She rubbed her arms, fighting back a shiver of fear. “My room’s the first one at the top of the stairs.”

She led the way upstairs. At her bedroom door, Brenda asked jokingly, “Do you need to check the room?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “What a good idea.”

Her mouth gaped. She hadn’t meant for him to actually do it.

He reached around her to open the door and brushed past her to enter the room. A second later he reappeared at the doorway. “No bad guys.”

“That’s reassuring.” She met his gaze.

The light from the hall heightened the blue of his eyes. They reminded her of a summer sky reflecting off Lake Michigan. The sudden longing to be out on the water, gliding through the waves, the sound of sails filling with the wind, gripped her.

Just her and the boat on open water as far as the eye could see.

She heard herself sigh. Saw the slow spread of a smile lighting up his face and realized what he must be thinking. Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. She was not sighing over him. But telling him that would only sound lame. And make her sound like an idiot. “Good night, then.”

He set his hands on her shoulders. She sucked in a quick breath. Twin points of heat seared her flesh from where he gripped her with strong hands. With gentle pressure, he moved her aside so he could step into the hall.

A fresh wave of embarrassment flushed through her. She’d been blocking his path out of her room. He must think her a complete airhead. Or worse, that she didn’t want him to leave her alone.

Well, okay, maybe a part of her didn’t want him to go too far away. For safety reasons. Just in case. And if she kept telling herself that, maybe it would be true.

“Good night, Brenda. Sleep well,” Kyle said with a two-fingered salute.

She nodded like a bobblehead doll and watched him saunter down the stairs and disappear into the dark.

She sagged against the door frame. She had to get a grip. She would
not
be interested in her bodyguard. No matter how attractive he was. He was a danger junkie. Only here to protect her. Period. She wasn’t looking for a romance, a relationship or anything in between. With him or any man.

She’d been down that rocky path before and found herself at a dead end. She was not going there again.

As she slipped into her room and closed the door, she only wished her heart would stop racing every time he was near. It was only a biological response to an attractive man, but it sure felt like something more. Something she had no intention of pursuing.

* * *

After one more perimeter check, Kyle was satisfied the grounds of the Storm house were as secure as they could be with only the eight-foot-high laurel hedges as a barrier to the outside world. He dialed Trent offices. He stood in the shadowed driveway, listening to the ring of the cell phone pressed to his left ear, while keeping his gaze on the street. A few lights dotted houses down the block. Several houses over a parked car sat at the curb.

“Trent Associates, Simone speaking. How can we help?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Kyle said by way of greeting. The former Detroit homicide detective had joined Trent Associates around the same time he had. “How’s it going?”

“All’s quiet here,” she replied. “Everyone’s out in the field except me and James. How’s your assignment?”

“Interesting.” He quickly filled her in on Brenda and the case. “I need a couple of things checked out. Can you help?”

“Of course, anything for my favorite frogman.”

“Ah, you’re gonna make me blush,” he quipped. From the day they’d met they’d had a good-natured banter going. Simone was all sleek polish. While he was...well, himself. They couldn’t be more opposite. Brenda, in fact, reminded Kyle a little of Simone. The same quick wit and standoffish manner.

“First up a Dr. Sam Johnson, plastic surgeon at Heritage Hospital. Has a thing for Brenda and doesn’t seem to understand no. He’s probably not our perp, but maybe someone close to him wants Brenda out of the picture. Dig up whatever you can.”

“Got it. Next?”

“Her parents. I need everything you can find on them.”

“Wait, you want me to do a deep dig on her family? You think they’re behind the attempt on your
protectee’s life?”

“No, I don’t,” he said. “But there’s something off. I’ve got a gut feeling that there’s more going on than they are saying. Mrs. Storm was quick to hide some medication when we arrived unexpectedly. Brenda says they’ve been acting strange lately. According to Brenda, her dad’s lost a lot of weight and was feverish tonight.”

“All right. I’ll do some digging, though you know with HIPPA I won’t get far on the medical,” Simone said. “Anything else?”

Kyle hesitated. Something niggled at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t put a bead on what was bothering him. “I’m good for now. But I’ll call if I have anything else.”

“Sounds good. Hey, Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay safe. I’m praying for you.”

He smiled, glad to know someone was putting in a good word with the man upstairs. Kyle prayed often, but sometimes God felt so very distant. Kyle had come to know the Lord at the Special Warfare Center in Coronado, California. There were days when his faith was the only thing that sustained him through the vigorous training and later combat. “You’re concerned about me? How sweet.”

He heard her exasperated sigh. “As I am for every member of the team.”

Kyle sobered. “I know. And I’m grateful.”

“Be careful.”

She’d shared her story with him after a harrowing assignment had left another team member in the hospital with a bullet wound. She’d lost someone close to her, someone she felt responsible for. Simone took everyone’s welfare very seriously. He appreciated that about her. “I will. You, too.”

“Thanks.”

Kyle hung up and stared at the house shrouded in darkness, his hinky alarm jangling. Just what were the Storms hiding? And was their secret the reason Brenda was in danger?

The house was quiet when he came back inside. Only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the slight creaking of the floorboards settling for the night kept the place from being completely silent. Kyle swept the downstairs, making sure all windows and doors were locked tight and the security alarm was set. He headed to the guest room on the main floor near the kitchen.

The room was done in muted tones of green and brown. More masculine than not, yet it wouldn’t necessarily be considered a man’s domain, not with the bits of lace on the cherry dresser, the painting of a field of flowers and a lazy creek on the wall and the ruffles on the accent pillows he’d tossed onto the wingback chair in the corner. Still, as digs went, this was cushy and more than adequate to provide a good night’s sleep.