Accidental Bodyguard. Sharon Hartley

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СКАЧАТЬ said Brad, an investigator who usually worked as a celebrity bodyguard. “It’s my turn to run paradise next month.”

      “There’s one thing, though,” Jack said.

      “Louise Clark?” Lola inquired.

      Jack met her dark stare and nodded. Her pink spikes appeared especially pointy today.

      Lola worked her keyboard and put Louise’s driver’s license up on the screen as Jack chronicled what he’d learned about her, the most damaging item being her fake name and ID. As he laid out the details, he wondered what set off his alarms.

      “Not unusual for a beautiful woman to carry a firearm,” Greta offered.

      “But why isn’t Santaluce with her?” asked Tony, another operative. He grabbed a grape from the fruit platter in the center of the table, eyebrows raised. “And why doesn’t she ever come out? Sounds like she’d hiding.”

      “Maybe she’s working on a top secret cookbook and that explains all the groceries,” Brad said.

      “Or maybe Santaluce is really a rich uncle providing her with a quiet location to study for that exam,” Greta suggested. “Are you sure you’re not just impressed by her ta-tas, Jack? You’ve always been a breast man.”

      Jack leveled a glance at Greta. The razzing would only get worse if he reacted.

      “Any chance she could be a twin?” This suggestion came from Tony.

      “The different names could be because of marriage,” Greta said.

      “Watch her, Jack,” Lola said, putting an end to the discussion. “If she does anything that could interfere with the serenity of Collins Island, you know what to do.”

      “Understood,” Jack said.

      An hour later, the meeting completed, Jack slid behind the wheel of his vehicle. He stared at the facade of the run-down strip mall that housed the Protection Alliance’s headquarters. The signage on PA’s door read Security in small, peeling black decals. No one would ever guess the amount of high-tech bells and whistles that lurked behind a tiny reception area with one ordinary desk and file cabinet.

      Just like no one knew what was behind the beautiful face of Louise Clark.

      Deception. It could be and often was a dangerous game. What kind of a game was Louise Clark, also known as Claudia Goodwin, playing? Most likely a con game on an unsuspecting wealthy man. Maybe bilking sugar daddies was her primary source of income. He considered the idea that had germinated while listening to a report from a fellow operative.

      He ignited his vehicle’s powerful engine. Why not visit the address that the Department of Motor Vehicles listed for Claudia Goodwin? Maybe Louise did have a twin.

      The odds were that he’d find nothing. He’d already determined the DMV address did exist, an apartment complex called Brasilia. The addy could also be a ruse, but what the hell. Brasilia was only a ten-minute drive away. He was off island. Why not take the opportunity to check it out?

      He parked his SUV in a visitor space and walked into a lush courtyard, alert for anything unusual. But it was early afternoon, so quiet. Goodwin’s apartment number indicated the second floor, so Jack jogged up the stairs, and knocked on her door. No one answered.

      He knocked again and yelled, “Ms. Goodwin?”

      No response.

      Jack tried the knob. It turned easily in his hand. Interesting.

      He loosened the snap on the holster under his jacket, kept his hand near the weapon and pushed the door open, ready for anything.

      He stared inside, evaluating the status of a thoroughly wrecked room. Was this vandalism or had someone been looking for something? Definitely not ordinary theft. The perpetrator of this violence either wanted something specific, something small since cushions had been sliced, or wanted to leave an impression on the owner of the possessions.

      Was Claudia Goodwin, also known as Louise Clark, that owner?

      How long ago had the apartment been ransacked? He stepped inside and used his elbow to flip a switch, noting that the electricity hadn’t yet been turned off. He moved to the refrigerator. Using a paper towel, he opened the door and checked for expiration dates. Skim milk was only a day gone.

      Whoever abandoned this place had only been gone a week to ten days. Rent wouldn’t be due until next week, the first of the month. Management likely didn’t yet know about the condition of this apartment.

      His gaze fell to a magazine on the floor with a smiling woman wearing nursing scrubs on the cover. He squatted and read the label. Claudia Goodwin, this address.

      Jack moved into the bedroom and found slashed nursing uniforms on the floor.

      In the bathroom, he found toothbrush, toothpaste and over-the-counter meds. Something had been written in lipstick on the mirror but smeared so it couldn’t be read. His gaze swept the small tiled room and zeroed in on traces of blood inside the toilet bowl.

      Not a good sign. Had Louise killed someone, deserted her home and run to hide on Collins Island?

      He used the paper towel to swipe the blood. He might need to get DNA from the sample.

      Thoughts churning, Jack departed, using another paper towel to close the door behind him.

      When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he heard a frail voice call out, “Young man.”

      Jack turned toward the sound and found an elderly woman standing at the doorway of an apartment leaning on a walker. Her thin hair, weathered face and shrunken body told him she was pushing ninety.

      “Yes, ma’am?” he asked.

      “You went inside Claudia’s apartment, didn’t you?” she asked with a suspicious tone.

      “Yes, ma’am,” Jack replied. “I’m looking for her.”

      “Are you a friend of hers?”

      “Yes, ma’am.” He stepped forward, hoping for some intel. “I’m Jack, and worried about Claudia. What’s your name, ma’am?”

      “Maude Spalding.”

      “Do you know where Claudia is, Ms. Spalding?”

      “No.” The old woman struggled to take a breath. “I haven’t seen her for over a week, and she always used to check on me.”

      “Claudia is a nurse,” Jack stated, hoping for confirmation.

      “And a damn good one.” Maude narrowed her eyes. “Had someone messed up her rooms?”

      “Why do you ask?”

      Maude sucked in a deep breath. “Wait. I need my oxygen.”

      Jack followed Maude into her apartment and came to a shocked halt. He didn’t think anything could surprise him anymore, but the explosion of Christmas decorations that assaulted his vision made him blink. A staggering number of СКАЧАТЬ