Cavanaugh Watch. Marie Ferrarella

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СКАЧАТЬ with that Beverly Hills firm that had wanted her instead of following in her father’s foot steps, she would be here today.

      Or rather, Sawyer thought, his expression dark as he looked from one person to the other in the D.A.’s office, he would have been there. With her. Living with Allison in Southern California instead of here, being asked to do stand guard over the chief of detectives’ little darling because the woman had been spooked by the sound of gunfire.

      His superior, Lieutenant Richard Reynolds, had been waiting for him when he’d gotten back from testifying in court. At first, he’d thought the man had been just making conversation, informing him of what he’d just heard had happened. Maybe even waiting for Sawyer to fill in the details. But it had very quickly become apparent that he was being given an assignment. The only kind of assignment he would have turned down. If he’d been given a choice, which he hadn’t.

      The incident had taken place less than an hour ago and already the call for bodyguards had been put out and filled. No paperwork or red tape to impede anything.

      Apparently, he thought cynically as his eyes washed over the petite blonde in the navy suit, when necessary, things moved fast within the halls of the Aurora police department.

      Protesting the assignment would do no good. He’d just wrapped up a case and was considered free. The fact that he didn’t have a relationship of any sort with the woman or any of her family was considered a plus.

      “She’s a mite headstrong, I hear,” Reynolds had told him. “All the Cavanaugh women are,” he’d added after lowering his voice. “The D.A. requested someone she couldn’t bully into her way of thinking.”

      Well, that was him, all right. He wasn’t about to be bullied by anyone, least of all a woman who thought her name earned her privileges.

      Sawyer took slow, careful measure of her now, the way he would have any assignment he’d been given, any person he encountered on the job. Survival usually depended on observation.

      He had to admit that, at about five-four, with no spare meat on her bones and honey-blond hair worn up and away from her face, the woman was fairly easy on the eyes. But it wasn’t his eyes that concerned him. He had no desire to be a glorified babysitter under any circumstances and, while the crime organization in question was a formidable one, he was of the personal opinion that what had happened in front of the courthouse an hour ago was an isolated incident, meant as a warning, nothing more.

      The man Marco Wayne bore allegiance to was not about to waste money or manpower getting into an unofficial war with the members of the Aurora police department or the district attorney’s office over some lowlife, even if that lowlife was Marco’s son. Marco Wayne had to be acting on his own. And treading a very fine line. In order not to do anything that would put him in disfavor with his boss, or jeopardize his own life, he would have only done something to shake up the D.A.’s office, nothing more.

      And the sooner he was done with this assignment, the better, Sawyer thought.

      Janelle’s eyes met the detective’s. The connection was instantaneous. She could read his every thought. And it wasn’t flattering.

      Janelle squared her shoulders.

      Damn but this man thought he could walk on water. It was evident in his eyes, in his expression, in his very gait as he strode into the office. If anything, the man looked even more surly now than he had when he’d pushed her down onto the pavement.

      And covered her body with his own, she reminded herself.

      Even at her most annoyed, she always tried to be fair. And the truth was, she supposed, she owed this man. She could have been seriously hurt, or worse, if he hadn’t shielded her.

      Only in the recesses of her mind did she admit to herself that she wasn’t the superwoman she pretended to be. Janelle frowned. Being somewhat in debt to him, however unintentionally and however unwillingly, meant that she couldn’t protest too loudly about his being assigned to be her bodyguard.

      Damn, she thought again.

      She shifted her eyes over toward the man whose name appeared on her paychecks.

      “Do you really think this is necessary?” she asked, trying to appeal to his legendary frugal nature. This kind of thing cost the department more than just a little money. “Maybe we’re overreacting.” She said we and hoped that it wasn’t overly evident that she actually meant that he was overreacting.

      Kleinmann beckoned her over to his desk. Feeling a little foolish, bracing herself for a lecture, she came forward. Her boss lowered his voice, as if to keep it from carrying to the other three occupants of the room. Of them, she noticed that only Woods seemed to be straining a little to hear what was coming next.

      Her detective looked like a stone statue. He wasn’t even blinking. Dutifully, Janelle leaned in toward the D.A.

      “Your father would cut off my head and have it mounted on a pike in the middle of the city if I ignored this incident and then something wound up happening to you.”

      “If anything did—which it won’t,” she interjected, “I’d take the blame, tell him it was my fault. That I refused protection.”

      The look on Kleinmann’s face told her she might as well have been reciting The Iliad in the original Greek for all the impression she was making on him with her rhetoric. Kleinmann had made up his mind and there was no budging him.

      Having her father as important as he was in the hierarchy of the police department was at times more of a curse than a blessing. She was proud of him, but there was no denying that she’d put up with her share of grief because of who he was, as well. Her own pride and determination had never allowed her to take advantage of the Cavanaugh name, but that never stopped people from thinking she’d advanced quickly because she was the daughter of the chief of detectives and had prevailed on her father to fast-track her.

      It was damn frustrating. She expressly didn’t mention anything that went on in the D.A.’s office whenever she did get together with her father.

      There were times like this, when she was made to pay the price of nepotism without ever having reaped any of the rewards, that almost made her wish she had taken advantage of the Cavanaugh name. She knew that the thinking was, with so many of her relatives embedded in law enforcement, and her cousin Callie even married to a judge, there wasn’t anything she couldn’t get done, no ticket not taken care of.

      Except that she didn’t work that way, hadn’t been raised that way. None of them had.

      Virtue is its own reward, her father had taught her. It had to be, she thought now, because nothing else sure as hell was.

      Janelle struggled to suppress a resigned, less-than-thrilled sigh. Didn’t matter if she was raised that way or not, she was going to wind up being made to pay for just having the Cavanaugh name.

      Okay, she could make the best of this, Janelle told herself. Or at least be civil.

      Turning toward the man fate and the D.A. seemed determined to saddle her with, she put her hand out to him. “So, I guess you and I are going to be spending some time together.”

      He looked down at her hand and after a beat shook it once before dropping it. The man acted as if any contact outside of the line of duty was distasteful to him. “I guess so.”

      Oh, СКАЧАТЬ