Lethal Peril_Military Romantic Suspense Page 6

  “Yes. I trashed his evening, but he doesn’t mind. We’re going to find out what’s going on here,” Wyatt said. “You were right all along. Someone is out to get you. And I’m damn sure going to see that they don’t succeed.”

  Beth leaned into him, and Wyatt put his arms around her. “I’m here to protect you. No one will hurt you again.” He wrapped her in a strong embrace, and she hugged him tight. She’d been on her own, but not anymore.

  Chapter 5

  Beth pressed her cheek to Wyatt’s hard chest and nestled into his embrace. For that moment, she was safe in his arms. Beyond just being her bodyguard, he believed her now, knew that she was in real danger. Wyatt’s combat skill had saved her. Although intercepting the man from the shadows must have been child’s play for him. Even as frightened as she’d been, she’d seen how Wyatt had dealt with the attacker.

  “You’re a good man to have on my side,” she said, then looked up into his eyes.

  Wyatt’s dark hair was disheveled, and his brown eyes were filled with concern. “You made a good decision when you hired me.”

  That was all; they were client and bodyguard—even after tonight. Beth shouldn’t have expected more. And when had she started expecting anything?

  Slipping from his arms, Beth turned away, unwilling to have him see her expression. Wyatt was observant; she’d give him that. Earlier that evening his astute observation had averted a disaster. That was enough for one night. She wanted to get home and hide inside, away from intruders, to breathe a sigh of relief that she’d cheated death once more.

  Wyatt put his arm around her, making this difficult. “Does it hurt much?”

  “Not really, but the doctor gave me some pain pills, in case I need them.” Beth didn’t look up, unable to trust herself to peer into her bodyguard’s caring eyes.

  “It will be good to get you out of here,” Wyatt said. “Hospitals aren’t my favorite place.”

  “I could use some fresh air. I wish we could walk back.”

  Wyatt lifted her chin, so Beth had to face him. “No way; it’s too dangerous. I don’t know who’s out there and I’m not taking any chances.”

  Beth couldn’t argue with that, and wasn’t sure how far she’d make it anyway. The adrenaline surge during the attack had kept her pumped up, but now she was beginning to fade. It would be embarrassing to collapse so Wyatt would end up carrying her. A taxi was a much better option.

  The hospital entrance was a circular drive under a concrete overhang, reminding her of some fancy hotel. Yet it was far from that. Beth could still smell the antiseptic, and shuddered to think of the patients she’d seen in the emergency room. This was no vacation.

  In the back of the cab, Wyatt put a hand on his knee, and she wanted to reach for it. Just for reassurance, she’d like to feel his big hand close over her smaller one, reminding her of his strength. Her imagination was out of control, a sign that she was a bit delirious from the injury. It was a bad idea to view Wyatt as more than a protector. Even the term friend meant more than Beth had a right to expect.

  Wyatt leaned back in the seat and cracked his knuckles. “There had to be a motive for what happened tonight.” He looked at her in the darkened back seat. “But what? That’s what I can’t figure out. What prompts someone to hire a killer?”

  “Many things,” Beth said. “Money, power, greed…passion.”

  Wyatt raised a brow. “You have a lover that you haven’t spoke of…a man jealous enough to want to kill you, as well as the other guy?”

  “Very funny.” Beth rested her head against the seat. “If there is, then where has he been? I don’t recall eliciting such…” She caught herself. Did she really want to admit to Wyatt that there had been no man that sparked such passion? “Anyway, you can look elsewhere for the perpetrator. I haven’t even dated anyone seriously in a while.”

  Wyatt’s satisfied look irked her. Beth wished she’d had more dates to boast of, or more interesting ones. She’d devoted more attention to hacking computers, sketching, or shopping, than to starting a meaningful relationship. It was sad, really.

  The house wasn’t far, and this time there was no unwelcome greeter. Beth stabbed at the security pad and Wyatt shoved the door open. He flipped on a light and then pushed the elevator button. Once upstairs, he made her wait in the main room while he checked the house for intruders.

  “I don’t think anyone can break in,” Beth said.

  “Someone can always break in. It’s just a matter of whether they have or not.”

  “I have a security system.”

  Wyatt didn’t reply, just disappeared from view. It was a few minutes before he returned and assured her the place was secure. “I’ll sleep with the door open,” Wyatt said. “You lock yours behind you.”

  Beth understood his precaution, even though she didn’t see how anyone could get past her bodyguard. The living space, including the bedrooms, was several flights up. So unless some guy scaled the outside of the building like Spider-Man, he’d have to come out in the open to get to her.

  Once she was in her bedroom, with the door locked as instructed, Beth went into the bathroom to check out the damage. She couldn’t tell how bad the cut was, since it was covered with a bandage. Other than a headache, she wasn’t too bad off. It could have been much worse.

  After getting ready for bed, she snuggled under the covers. As a young girl, there had been so many times that her father had tucked her in. A stressful night like she’d just had made her long for the past. There’d been a time when she hadn’t feared, when she was confident that she was loved and cared for.

  But now, her father couldn’t help her. He needed her more than she needed him. It pained her that she couldn’t rescue him from his nursing home prison. Stephen Foster had been a vital, productive man all his life—until the illness had taken hold.

  Beth closed her eyes, struggling to process the past few days. It was notable her uncle hadn’t mentioned the subway death, and her brother hadn’t either. Neither of them had met Amanda, because Beth had made a point of keeping her newsroom connections separate from her family life.

  It was her way of maintaining privacy. And her cartooning was her own business. She hadn’t needed the ridicule from those that should have been supportive. Only her father had commended her for the talent she exhibited, but mostly, Beth had kept quiet about her passion. She didn’t need to hear what her uncle or brother thought about it.

  So far, her attorney must have been able to keep the press away from the Fosters, and from asking too many questions. That was a good thing, as it gave her a chance to discover the source of the attack before her family got involved. Wyatt had spoken of motive, but Beth was clueless.

  She’d nearly been killed twice, yet had no idea why. Visions of the subway incident flooded her thoughts. Beth no longer doubted that she’d been the target. Amanda’s only crime had been to wear the logo jacket, innocently so, and she had died as a result. Beth was consumed with sadness. She vowed to find out who had done the awful deed and make them pay.

  *****

  The next morning, Beth slept in. There was no place she had to be, and the rest had likely been good for her. She threw back the covers and got up, feeling pretty normal. In the bathroom, she carefully removed the bandage.

  The cut was on the left side where her hair had already been shaved around the ear. It was convenient that it hadn’t been on the other side where her hair was longer, as the doctor would have shaved that side too. That would have looked weird. She cleaned the cut as directed, then showered and dressed.

  Revived from a good night’s sleep, Beth went out to the kitchen with a renewed sense of purpose. She didn’t like having to wonder when she’d be attacked next, cower at every corner, and hide behind her bodyguard. It was time to get to the bottom of this, and deactivate the deadly threat.

  Wyatt was in the kitchen, scrolling on his phone and drinking coffee.

  Beth poured a steaming cup of coffee and took a sip. �
�I see you figured out how to use the coffee machine.”

  “I couldn’t find any food, though, except for a mostly empty bag of chips that I finished off.” Wyatt tossed his phone on the table. “Don’t you shop for groceries?”

  “I don’t cook.”

  “Well, I do. So we’ll have to stock up.”

  Beth sat across from him. “You cook? Why didn’t I know this before?”

  “I suppose it didn’t come up.” Wyatt rocked his chair back and balanced it on two legs. “No wonder you’re so tiny. You don’t have any provisions.”

  “I’m not tiny; I’m just short…petite, if you will.”

  Wyatt grinned, and he was so darned handsome. She had to resist touching. She hadn’t forgotten how good his arms felt wrapped around her. His longish, dark hair was messily groomed, dusting his collar seductively. His lips looked so kissable, and Beth imagined what it would be like to have his mouth pressed to hers.

  “Forget the coffee,” Wyatt said, and stood to reach for her hand. “We’re going out for breakfast…lunch, or whatever meal it is. And I’ll buy you a cup of coffee anywhere you want.”

  Beth took his hand. Why did this feel like a date? All he wanted to do was feed her, or he was starving and she was along for the ride. “I know just the place,” she said.

  A few blocks away, was a neighborhood cafe that specialized in comfort food. It had a rustic setting, nothing fancy, and tasty food. Beth figured the establishment could accommodate a hungry guy—one who hadn’t eaten anything but caviar and thinly sliced roast beef since the day before, if you didn’t count the stale chips from her cupboard.

  Plus the coffee was good. Beth ordered an Americano with cream and Wyatt had black coffee. After placing the food orders, Beth savored her rich drink and glanced across the table. She enjoyed watching Wyatt. “You know I’m still mad at you.”

  Wyatt put his cup down. “I should be mad at you.”

  Beth didn’t see that coming. “Whatever for?”

  “The way you treated me before I went off to the Navy.” Wyatt narrowed his eyes. “What was it…some bitchy comment about me shirking responsibility?”

  “Oh, that. Surely, you aren’t still harboring a grudge?” Beth rolled a shoulder. “I was just miffed that you were abandoning me.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “You, sailor boy, left home. You escaped without a thought for me.” Beth crossed her arms. “I had to stay, deal with my family, and suffer with circumstances I couldn’t do anything about.”

  “Hey, I had to go. There was no way in hell I would’ve followed in my father’s footsteps. He was a conniving, cheating, power-hungry—”

  “Bitter much?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. My father’s methods were no secret. The man would do anything for a dollar…and you know it.”

  “I’m not saying he wouldn’t.” Beth sighed. “But you could have taken over the business, changed things. Instead you fled.”

  “I’d hardly call enlisting as a Navy SEAL fleeing.” Wyatt drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m not my father’s boy. I’ll leave that to my younger brother. I’d shrivel up in an office like a plant without sunshine. My talents are physical, not administrative.”

  Beth couldn’t believe how many years it had taken to get that out in the open. But then, she hadn’t spoken to him after he’d left for basic training. It was good to clear the air.

  The meals arrived and Beth shuffled her eggs around with a fork. Wyatt dumped syrup on a stack of pancakes, cut into it with his fork, then stuffed a huge bite in his mouth. Chewing, he glanced up at her. “Still mad?” he said through a mouthful of food.

  Beth laughed. “I guess not.” She wiped a glob of butter onto her toast. “Are you?”

  “Naw, I wasn’t really mad. I just thought you were stuck up.” Wyatt held up his hand. “Settle down. I’m teasing you.”

  After breakfast, Beth coerced him into going for a walk. “I can’t stay cooped up. It’s New York; I’m used to walking. And I doubt anyone wants to mess with you, not when you can see them coming.” She looked him over: wide shoulders, bulging biceps, chest as hard as a rock. “Nope. We’re safe.”

  It was a pleasant day for late October, so Beth got her fill of walking. Wyatt had no problem keeping up. She guessed he could outwalk or outrun her without breaking a sweat. But it was good to get outside and clear her mind. She lifted her head and strode with confidence. With Wyatt on her team, she’d be able to conquer her enemies.

  *****

  With the sun still high in the sky, Wyatt led her back home to plan the next move. Now that he had food in his belly, he was ready for battle. It was good to see Beth smile, and the cut was healing well.

  The elevator doors opened and Wyatt stepped out into chaos.

  “Oh my God, what happened?” Beth raced inside, looking around. “How did anyone get in here? The place is a mess.”

  The home had been ransacked; a thief must have been looking for something in particular. At first glance, it appeared that expensive items had been ignored. Money couldn’t have been the motive. The job had been quick and dirty.

  Wyatt looked around, verified that no one was in wait for them, and made a preliminary assessment of the damage. He turned to Beth, who wasn’t nearly as frantic now. “What’s missing?”

  “I don’t keep cash here, except for what I had in my purse. I had my phone in my pocket and the flash drive in my jacket.” Beth rubbed her temple. “Force of habit, I guess. I don’t leave important information in my home.”

  “What about your laptop?”

  Beth shook her head. “There was no vital data. I’m a hacker—well, in case you didn’t know. It’s foolhardy to store anything important on a laptop.”

  Wyatt widened his eyes.

  “Because a thief can just run off with a laptop, and passwords aren’t that difficult to crack…usually.”

  “So I witnessed yesterday.”

  “I’m guessing the thief got into my laptop, but quickly discovered there wasn’t anything to copy.” Beth fell into a nearby armchair.

  “What else, then?” Wyatt asked.

  “I’m not sure, but whoever did this left some pretty valuable items behind.”

  “Yeah, this was personal, not some random theft.”

  Beth got up to scavenge around some more. Wyatt dug through the wreckage, picking up stuff, and looking for any evidence. There was a framed photo of Beth and her brother that had fallen onto the tile floor, and the glass had cracked. Kyle had blue eyes and dark hair, like his sister. Her brother was younger, and Wyatt remembered him as a little tyke. It was difficult to get his head around Kyle wanting to kill his sister.

  “Wyatt, my journal is missing.”

  He looked up to see Beth standing in the doorway. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, absolutely. I kept it in the desk drawer and it’s gone.” Beth slumped onto the sofa.

  “What was in it?”

  “Just stuff. I goof off sometimes, write political commentary…things like that. It was a hobby. I scribbled lots of notes and did research.” Beth looked up at him. “Over the years, being privy to the underpinnings of my family’s company…I sort of started investigating.”

  “What do you mean, sort of? What did you plan to do with the information?”

  “Nothing, really. I uncovered some dirt in my family’s history. It intrigued me,” Beth said. “After all, I haven’t been treated well, so it made sense to know what I was dealing with.”

  Wyatt sat beside her. “What exactly was in there?”

  “I made some discoveries that dismayed me, mostly power-play-type stuff. The usual…disregard for the rights of honest people, manipulating and doing anything for money.” Beth sighed. “I love my father. It was a disappointment when I learned of these underhanded dealings. I can’t imagine him condoning such activities.”

  “Maybe those events took place after he got sick, so he wasn’t a participant,�
� Wyatt said. “But in any case, someone doesn’t want that information to get out.”

  “Most of it was easy to find, which is why I didn’t hide it. Given enough interest, it’s public knowledge.”

  Wyatt frowned. “Possibly someone was afraid of what else you might discover, if you were allowed to continue.”

  Beth looked thoughtful. “Or…whoever it is doesn’t want me to have the information.”

  “And is prepared to kill to make sure you don’t act on what you know.”

  Wyatt looked at Beth. Her life was at risk; the stakes in the game had just gone up. There was a motive to kill her. He didn’t have it all figured out yet, but this was a solid lead. It was time to call in some backup.

  Wyatt called a number and hit speaker. He set his phone on the coffee table.

  “Cooper here…what’s up?”

  “Coop…I’m with Elizabeth Foster, at her home. While we were out somebody broke in and took a look around. He made a mess of the place.”

  “Doesn’t she have a security system?”

  “Yes, but it’s about to be upgraded,” Wyatt said. “Anyway, you’ll be interested to know what was stolen.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  Wyatt told him about the journal and its contents. “It appears that information wasn’t meant for public viewing, and now someone intends to silence Beth before she reveals it.”

  “I agree. Elizabeth must have struck a nerve with her prying into company affairs, and it was enough to make her a target.”

  Wyatt glanced over at Beth. “That’s why I’m calling. I need to know who wants her dead, and why.”

  “I’ll follow the money,” Coop said. “I’m betting that greed is involved here. And you should know that I did find out something about Martin Foster. It seems he had a gambling problem.”

  “That’s not a crime.”

  “True, but if he gets in over his head…”

  “What about her brother Kyle?”

  “I’m digging, but so far he’s clean as a boy scout,” Coop said. “But I’m still looking; I don’t rely on first impressions.”