Undercover Protector. Cassie Miles

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СКАЧАТЬ bed and began pulling the covers together. “If you really need a man to help, we can hire somebody. Maybe one of the football players from the high school.”

      “No,” Lionel said firmly. “That’s not who I am in this town. I can’t have folks thinking of me as a helpless old codger. I got plans for the future, and they don’t include being tended to by some teenager I don’t even know.”

      “I won’t get in the way,” Michael said smoothly. “Lionel says you have a guest bedroom downstairs.”

      Viciously she plumped the pillows on his bed. Their plans were made. She had no choice but to accept Michael’s presence, but she didn’t have to like it.

      The telephone on the bedside table rang, and Annie snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

      “Hi, Annie. I heard you were back in town. This is Jake Stillwell. Remember me?”

      “Of course I do.” She could hardly forget Jake Stillwell. Not only was he blond and good-looking, but he was the only son of the richest family in Bridgeport, the owners of the last remaining lumber mill.

      “I’d like to get together while you’re in town. Maybe tomorrow night?”

      But he was married to Candace Grabow, the most popular girl in school and the bounciest cheerleader in the history of the Bridgeport Badgers. And, Annie remembered belatedly, Candace was the daughter of Edna who ran the local minimart. “You’re married, Jake.”

      “Divorced,” he said. “How about it, Annie? We can have dinner. I know a nice little place on the coast.”

      “Sounds lovely, but I’ll have to take a rain check. Until my grandpa is settled in, I don’t want to be away from the house for too long.”

      “I understand,” he said. “Give me a call when you’re ready to go out.”

      “Sure thing.”

      She hung up the receiver. Both Lionel and Michael stared at her with wary eyes.

      “Jake,” Michael said disgustedly. “Was that Jake Stillwell?”

      “It’s none of your business.”

      “You can’t go out with him, Annie.”

      She gaped, unable to comprehend his colossal arrogance. “Are you presuming to tell me what I can and cannot do?”

      “All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t date any of the guys in town until we know what’s going on with Bateman.”

      “Get real! There’s no way scum like Bateman is somehow involved with the Stillwell family.”

      “We don’t know,” Michael said. “You were attacked four days ago in Salem. Was it Bateman?”

      That thought had been gradually forming in the back of her mind. Her confrontation with Bateman on the street had been very similar to the mugging. It felt the same. But the shapeless poncho had disguised her assailant’s girth, and his face was distorted by the nylon stocking. “I can’t make a positive identification.”

      “Could it have been someone else?”

      “Yes,” she conceded. “But it seems unlikely, especially since Bateman has a history of attacking police officers.”

      Lionel said, “Bateman might be working with somebody else. A long time ago, when he was arrested, he was part of a gang. Michael is right. Until we know what’s going on, you should be very careful about who you spend time with.”

      Once again the two of them had united against her with an outrageous plan. She glanced between them. “Well, boys, if Bateman is part of some sort of conspiracy, I suggest you leave the detective work to me. After all, I am a trained policewoman. You, Lionel, are a retired football coach, and you…” She focused on Michael. “I don’t know what you are.”

      “I captain a charter vessel based in Seattle.”

      “So, you’re not a professional detective.” She made a slashing motion with her good hand. “End of story. If anybody is going to be investigating around here, it’s me.”

      “You and Mikey could work together,” Lionel said. “Like partners.”

      “I don’t think so.” She turned on her heel and headed toward the door. “I’ll be in my bedroom.”

      “What about dinner?” Lionel asked.

      “Michael wants to be your little helper. Let him cook.”

      Head held high, she crossed the upstairs landing to her bedroom, closed the door and fell backward across the hand-stitched blue-and-white quilt. She stared up at the ceiling. Less than an hour ago she’d seen Bridgeport as a peaceful sanctuary with sheltering forests and hummingbirds sipping nectar. Now it was chaos. Her inner turmoil twirled like a kaleidoscope centered on the flower-patterned light fixture.

      She closed her eyes, settled down and almost immediately realized she was hungry. Unfortunately, after her high-handed exit, she didn’t feel ready for another encounter. She’d wait to eat until after Lionel and Michael had gone to bed.

      She checked her wristwatch. It was only half-past seven. How late would they stay up?

      After taking a shower, washing her hair, adjusting the splintlike cast on her arm and dressing for bed in a satin pastel nightgown, which was—as she readily admitted—an overly feminine reaction to her daytime uniform, she could still hear the rumble of male voices from the bedroom across the hall. There was also laughter. Her grandpa and Michael were sharing a joke. No matter what else she thought about Michael Slade, he was good for Lionel.

      There had always been a bond between the two males. Annie remembered teen-aged Michael, tall and lithe, with his untrimmed black hair flopping across his forehead and his eyes squinted in concentration as he ran patterns across the backyard while her grandpa threw spiral football passes. Though Michael had a reputation as a tough kid, he’d followed all of her grandpa’s team rules and restrictions. Except for one. Keep away from my granddaughter. Lionel had warned all the guys on the team. Only Michael had disobeyed.

      Their stolen moments together were poignant and sweet. She’d been touched that he would risk his position on the team in order to spend time with her.

      Was he still a rebel? He was certainly more solidly built, more manly. His appearance impressed her. And he seemed to have done well for himself, becoming the captain of a charter vessel in Seattle.

      But she didn’t like his arrogance. Ordering her not to date anybody in town? Ridiculous! If Michael thought he could swagger in here like the prodigal hero and expect her to salute, he had another think coming.

      His suggestion that Bateman wasn’t acting alone was fairly ludicrous. Unless…

      The man who attacked her in the parking lot had said it was “nothing personal.” Bateman might have hired him. Newly released from prison, he had the necessary criminal contacts to locate a hitman.

      But why would Michael leap to that conclusion? Maybe it was because he knew more than he was telling. The more Annie thought about it, the more certain she was that Michael СКАЧАТЬ