The Bodyguard. Julie Miller

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      The man she’d thought he was?

      Maybe the prickly heiress’s paranoia wasn’t all about the trauma of being kidnapped ten years ago.

      “All right, sweetheart, I’ll see what I can do. You will not. You will not.” Alex’s voice interrupted Trip’s silent speculation. “If that’s the case, it’s not up for negotiation. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll swing by to pick you up.”

      “Problems with the soon-to-be missus?” Trip felt he’d better make a comment before anyone noticed his unusual preoccupation with his thoughts tonight.

      “Just a little discussion about taking unnecessary risks.” Alex closed his phone and slipped it into the pocket of his jeans. “We reached a compromise.”

      “She’ll go ahead and do what she wants and you won’t complain about it?”

      “Ha-ha, big guy. I wouldn’t be giving me too much grief. You’ve been all kinds of quiet since that night at the Mayweather Museum.” So his brooding hadn’t gone unnoticed. “On the other hand, whatever you said or did, Charlotte’s still talking about it. Audrey’s at her house right now.”

      “Is she filing a harassment claim with the D.A.’s office?”

      “Not exactly.”

      “What exactly is she saying about me?”

      Captain Cutler put an end to the conversation. “What is this, junior high? You two settle your love lives on your own time. I just won a bet.”

      “Congratulations, captain,” Alex took a drink and then pushed his glass away. “Sorry to cut the celebration short, but, since we have the next couple of days off, I’ve got a favor to ask.” The others stopped their joking and drinking long enough to listen in. “Well, Audrey’s the one making the request, but—”

      “What does the counselor need?” Sergeant Delgado asked. As moody as he’d been lately, he had a soft spot for Audrey Kline, the assistant district attorney who’d put away the murderer of a little boy who’d died in Delgado’s arms back in November. They all owed Audrey a favor for that conviction.

      “She’s looking for some extra security to keep an eye on the guests at Richard Eames’s funeral tomorrow. I guess he’d been with the Mayweather family so long that they’re all attending the service and hosting a reception afterward at the estate.”

      “They’re all attending?” Trip was still pondering what accusations, or unlikely compliments, Charlotte had to say about him. She’d made it clear that she had a phobia about people, about strangers—about big, scary men like him, especially. He couldn’t see her standing with a crowd of mourners around a grave site, or welcoming them into her home.

      “Charlotte said Richard Eames was like an uncle to her. They’re going to find a way to sneak her in to the graveside service,” Alex explained. “But they’re worried about paparazzi and curious fans. Anything about the Mayweathers is usually newsworthy, but if word gets out that Charlotte is finally making a public appearance after all these years, it might bring the crazies out. They’d like to keep their mourning as private as possible, of course.”

      “They’re about the wealthiest family in Kansas City,” Randy pointed out. “Don’t they have their own security?”

      Alex nodded. “Gallagher Security Systems—the same private outfit that protects the estate where Audrey’s father lives. They’ll provide extra guards at the house, in addition to all the electronics Gallagher designed. But they’re more gadgets than manpower—they don’t have the resources to secure a cemetery the size of Mt. Washington as well.”

      Rafe Delgado leaned back in his seat, a frown settling back on his expression. “Didn’t Gallagher provide the security at the estate where Gretchen Cosgrove was murdered, too?”

      Randy picked up on his suspicion. “That’s not a very good recommendation for Gallagher’s company.”

      “Gallagher’s wife was the Rich Girl Killer’s first victim,” Captain Cutler reminded them.

      “If his company had access to all the crime scenes, maybe the second murder and other attempts are a cover for his wife’s death.” Randy wasn’t getting the hint stamped on Cutler’s unsmiling face. “Has anyone investigated him?”

      The captain cleared his throat and simply looked at her.

      Randy wilted in her chair. “Too soon in our relationship to speculate about something like that, hmm?”

      “Quinn Gallagher is a friend of mine,” Cutler explained. “Any connection between his company and the murders is a cruel coincidence. Or a plot to discredit him.”

      Trip’s gaze instinctively shifted across the room to the table where Spencer Montgomery and his partner were sipping drinks. Son of a gun. The red-haired detective was looking over the rim of his glass, meeting Trip’s gaze—as if he knew the conversation around SWAT Team One’s table centered on his investigation.

      The detective didn’t so much as blink before turning back to his partner. A guy that unflappable would have no qualms about exploiting Charlotte Mayweather’s grief if it meant solving his case.

      Uh-uh. He had the stitches in his arm to prove he was the man Charlotte could count on if there was any other threat to her person or sanity—from killer or cop alike. Whether she believed it or not.

      Trip pulled back to answer Alex. “I’ll volunteer.”

      The mood around the table grew sober. They were all shifting back into wary-protector mode.

      “Jackson Mayweather is looking for some off-duty officers to help with crowd control, in exchange for a generous donation to KCPD’s widows and orphans fund.”

      “Whatever the Mayweathers need. I’m there.”

      “Thanks, Trip.”

      Captain Cutler was nodding, pushing away from the table and standing. “Call or text us with the times and setup. We can coordinate our efforts once we’re on-site. And remember, protecting the Mayweathers is strictly voluntary.”

      “I’ll be there,” Trip repeated, rising.

      Alex stood, too. “Audrey will be there all day, so that means I will, too.”

      Randy shrugged and joined in. “It’s not like I’ve got a hot date tomorrow.”

      Rafe was looking over his shoulder, watching Josie serve a beer and a smile up to one customer before hurrying behind the counter to greet someone new and fetch the next drink. Whatever was troubling him didn’t appear to be a concern for her.

      “Sarge?” the captain prompted.

      Rafe stood as well. “I’m in.”

      Trip grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and shrugged into it. With thoughts of Charlotte distracting him from his normal routine, he hadn’t really been in the mood to celebrate, anyway. As the others headed for the door, he picked СКАЧАТЬ