The Missing Millionaire. Dani Sinclair

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      Except, he was the one they’d tried to incinerate. So why the charade to protect him? And why try to kill him in such a spectacular fashion?

      She needed to find a phone more than he did. But the twolane road was dark. The houses and barns that flanked it were set well back from the street. Tony’s people had chosen the location for its remoteness.

      “We’ve got a ways to go yet before we reach the highway,” she added.

      “Where are we?”

      “Southern Virginia.” She turned on the car headlights. There had been no sign of pursuit, so likely the explosive devices had been on timers. Yet she couldn’t be sure that someone hadn’t hung around to trigger those blasts. This was not the time to start taking chances.

      Jamie shuddered as she thought about how close an escape they’d just had. She would not believe that Tony had set her up to die. Therefore, someone had lied to him. The person had to know he wouldn’t take this lying down. Whoever had set this in motion had a second set of victims in mind. Jamie needed to get to Tony before the killers did.

      If only she hadn’t panicked and left her cell phone on the sink when she’d discovered her keys missing. Stupid. Now all she could do was race against time and the unknown enemy.

      If she was going to have regrets, she should start with the fact that she hadn’t followed her instincts from the start and flatly refused Tony the minute he proposed this insanity. But if she hadn’t gone along, her mind whispered, it would have been his wife, Carolyn, in that farmhouse tonight.

      “As soon as we get to a phone you can drop me off,” Trent told her. “I won’t tell the police about you.”

      “Even if I believed that, what part of my being your bodyguard don’t you understand?” she snapped. Fear and frustration made her tone sharp. “I agreed to keep you safe until noon and that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

      “I don’t need or want a bodyguard.”

      “Two dead women say otherwise. I’m a professional, Mr. Trent. When I agree to do a job, I see it through.”

      There was a beat of silence. She could feel him studying her.

      “You really are a bodyguard?”

      “Licensed, bonded and everything.” No need to tell him that was in California, not Virginia.

      It was subtle, but she sensed him relax a bit.

      “Do you know James Wickliff?”

      She shook her head. “No.”

      “Mark Ramsey? Of Ramsey Incorporated?”

      “No.”

      His tension returned. “I hired Ramsey’s firm to guard my fiancée. Wickliff was assigned to Zoe.”

      “Then she’s probably safe enough.”

      “As safe as I was?”

      His bitter words silenced her.

      “Were those other two women bodyguards, too?”

      “No. What they wanted to do with your body had nothing to do with guarding it. They came with the assignment.”

      That gave him pause. “Who are you working for?”

      Jamie debated. What would he say if she told him she suspected a man involved in organized crime had arranged to hire her? Her foster father’s former boss had his fingers in any number of pies, though he kept a low profile. His name probably wouldn’t mean a thing to someone like Harrison Trent, but if it did, the less said the better.

      “I’m working for a friend,” she said.

      “I’d hate to meet your enemies.”

      Jamie tensed. “He was set up as much as we were!”

      “How do you know?”

      “Because I do.”

      “That’s helpful.”

      She didn’t bother to respond.

      “This makes no sense,” he muttered under his breath.

      “What doesn’t?” She felt his stare return to her.

      “Why would Drake’s killer come after me?”

      “Who’s Drake?”

      The silence lengthened. She sent a glance in his direction and found him studying her in the darkness.

      “You really don’t know, do you?”

      “Listen, Mr. Trent, if you know who tried to kill you—”

      “I don’t. Zoe dated a man named Wayne Drake a couple of times a few months ago. He turned out to be a professional thief. He was gunned down outside a restaurant in D.C. last week.”

      “So?”

      “So Zoe was with Drake when he was killed. The story made headline news.”

      Jamie could have told him she hadn’t been paying attention to the news while she was here. Instead, she sent him a quick glance. “Your fiancée was dating another man a week before your wedding?”

      “No! It’s complicated.”

      “Sounds like it. Must have been a big story what with her being engaged to you.”

      Harrison took a deep breath and exhaled before continuing calmly. She had to give him full marks for control.

      “The police don’t know if Zoe was the intended victim or Drake was.”

      “He’s the one who died,” she pointed out.

      “But someone had tried to kill her a couple of months earlier.”

      That was interesting. Jamie tapped the steering wheel with her index finger. Was his bride-to-be involved with Victor DiMarko somehow? DiMarko was reputed to be a good-looking man, if a lot older than Trent’s bride must be. On the other hand, if her dead boyfriend had been a thief, maybe he was the connection to DiMarko. Or maybe there was no connection whatsoever.

      Jamie shook her head. Even if someone had a reason to go after the thief and Trent’s fiancée, why try to take out a man like Harrison Trent? He was a millionaire several times over. His murder would stir a hornet’s nest of activity for sure.

      “Why would Drake’s killer come after you?” she asked. “Were you at the restaurant, too?”

      “No.”

      “Then the attempt on your life must be about something else.”

      “There has to be a connection.”

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