CHAPTER SIX

Only three people in her life were aware of the events of twenty-four years ago. Sharing this email with them would just bring tears, and alarm. If indeed her parent’s killer was out there, Amanda would face him alone. After all, she alone possessed what he wanted.

But sharing this image with a virtual stranger proved some form of a catharsis. There was a sense of anonymity in revealing her most troubled thoughts to someone who did not know her. He didn’t know her, but he had touched her. No one touched her. No one would dare to grab her hand and haul her to a couch.

And yet, when that warmth was gone, she was shocked to find how much she missed it. Human contact. His contact. His hand was so wide. She could still feel the coarse palm against her skin. It was a powerful hand. Capable. A hand that was used in battle−and the scars remained.

Absently she flipped hers over to study the slight lines in her palm. Her power did not exist here. She envied him that. Her hand was a weakness.

“Talk to me,” came his soft whisper.

She closed her eyes and waited to hear the deep growl again.

“Amanda?”

Drawing in a long breath, she felt a familiar sense of composure flow through her veins. If only she could keep it there. The subject matter was not going to help, but she realized now that she needed this man. No more facing it alone. Let someone familiar with the dark side of life assist her.

But, how much would she have to reveal?

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

Ray sat with his hands fisted together between his knees. Although the sofa was expansive, he had dragged her down next to him. Close enough that if he widened the gap between his knees one more inch their legs might touch.

She wanted to stand up—out of reach. Space gave her stability. At the same time she longed for heat. God she wanted heat. Every limb of hers felt sculpted in ice.

In contradiction, everything about Ray smoldered.

“Another tablespoon of wine?” he quirked an eyebrow.

Riding a wave of anguish and desolation today, she nonetheless felt a tug at the corner of her mouth−a near smile that faded before truly forming.

“When I was six years-old my parents took me on a trip to South Africa,” she began in a tight voice. “I’m still not clear on why we went there. Some sort of marketing jaunt for their jewelry business is all I’ve been able to gather. I can’t remember much of anything except for—”

“Easy,” he soothed. “I can’t even imagine how difficult this is for you, but know that anything you share with me stays with me, and will only be used to protect you.”

It started to rain, the sound a muted drill against the living room windows. The lights of London blurred and ran like teardrops into the streets below.

“The police told my aunt that the road was not frequently traveled. A local resident drove through the next morning and discovered me sitting near my parent’s car.”

Ray’s hand fisted. “My God, how long−”

“There’s no telling for sure, but they estimated my parents were shot sometime around sunset, and I was discovered mid-morning the next day.”

“Amanda—”

Still in her rain coat and bare feet, she sat stiffly with shoulders poised.

“Don’t pity me. I walked away from it. That’s more than my parents can say.”

Her bravado-laced armor had gaping holes in it, and she knew it. Watching the shadows of conflict skitter across Ray’s wide cheekbones distracted her. She wasn’t sure if it was concern there, but it sure could pass for it. No, this man wanted the facts. She dealt in facts. Facts would keep her sane.

“The picture you just showed me,” he started. “How do you know it was taken by their murderer? Could it have been the press? A coroner?”

Amanda’s slim fingers crawled across the leather towards her phone. They wrapped around it, but kept it there. “The light. The long shadows of dusk,” she replied hollowly. “No one found me until the morning. That picture was taken at the onset of evening.” When their blood was still flowing into the road.

Silent for a moment, Ray finally raised hooded, soulful eyes. A man confident enough to hold her gaze.

“Will you let me read the email?” he asked gravely.

Clutching the cell phone she let the question roll around in her head like an aimless wrecking ball.

Surrender. Raise the white flag.

As if it were a block of cement she struggled to lift the device and draw up the text on her screen. Warily, she extended her hand. Ray’s eyes never left hers as he took the phone. For a second she felt the connection with his fingers and then everything was gone. Her hand was empty.

Clasping the raincoat tight about her, she searched her living room as he was busy reading. Her eyes connected with the sunset painting. Strong blends of orange, purple, and gold. Sometimes she wanted to climb into that painting−to have her limbs melt into the oil canvas until she was nothing more than a brushstroke.

“Is this the only one?”

Amanda snapped her eyes at the intrusion.

“There were others.” But if she showed him, he would ask the inevitable.

His thick eyebrow inched up in an unvoiced question.

“Here,” she commanded with her fingers.

Ray gave her back the phone so that she could draw up the previous emails.

Handing it back, she watched his face as he read. Nothing on that rugged plain indicated shock or censure, or even greed. Full lips were set in a straight line, and maybe his eyebrows quirked once, but his expression remained unfazed.

Finally, he looked up at her.

“Do you have them? The diamonds he talks about?” he asked.

Lie!

“No.”

Under that intense gaze she felt exposed in a manner so foreign. She could feel him stripping away the lies and reading her core, digging out the truth like a cerebral archeologist.

“Do you know about these diamonds? Or is this just a groundless threat?”

Amanda cleared the lump in her throat. “If this is my parent’s murderer, I’m guessing he has tracked me down as the daughter of this couple, and has learned that I’m−”

“Rich as all hell?” Ray offered.

It comforted her that he didn’t seem too impressed with that fact.

“Yes, that’s what I’m thinking.” She hastened, not allowing him to dwell on the original question. “This is no more than an extortion plot.”

Why is he staring? It’s unnerving.

“Perhaps,” he regarded her, “but I imagine it’s the personal element that makes it so unsettling.”

Yes!

She laced her fingers together on her lap and one of the plates in her emotional armor fell loose. “The attack in the alley. The attempt to enter my premises. The threatening email−” She glanced at her phone. “None of it troubled me as much as that photo. Except for what remains in my mind, I have not seen that scene in twenty-four years. Not in any newspaper. Not from any South African authorities. That photo has−” she swallowed, “gutted me.”

Chink.

Another piece of armor detached.

Ray leaned forward. His thigh flexed, straining against the jeans. She stared at it, fascinated by the raw strength and power. Absurdly she wanted to reach out and run her fingers along that muscle. She wanted to wind her hands around his waist and burrow into that wide chest.

My God, what is happening to me?

She was not the hugging type. She never liked to be held−not even as a six year-old. She didn’t want the hugs of a strange aunt. Only her parents could touch her. She never wanted anyone else to touch her. Despite that inherent coldness, her aunt and uncle loved her fiercely, and she, in turn, would die for them.

So why this sudden desire to be held by this man? This stranger?

“Amanda,” his soft voice stirred something inside her. “It’s going to be alright.” He paused, waiting until she made eye contact. Amber rays lurked in his eyes, the same spokes that fought against sunset.

“I will find this man,” he vowed. “You’ve survived a horrible trauma that no one should ever have to go through. If this is someone looking to make a buck off of that−” his powerful hand curled into a fist “−I’ll−” He shook his head, angered at the mere thought. “And if by some chance this is the man responsible for what happened to your parents−”

What? What will you do?

But he didn’t complete the sentence. The fire in his eyes spoke volumes, though.

“Is this the level of protection you offer all of your clients, Mr. Gordon?”

“I’ll admit,” some of that fire abated, “I hate to see innocent people traumatized. I know when I start up my own business I will be protecting CEO’s that are probably as corrupt as those who are threatening them. But in the minimal time that I’ve worked with you in the past, I don’t see you as one of them. And honestly, I’ve witnessed enough trauma against innocent people. I have zero tolerance for that. You survived a horrible scene that no one should ever be exposed to, and you didn’t crumble. You turned into a strong, capable woman.”

His approval caused a wrench in her chest. How odd. How odd that his admiration should mean so much.

Feeling out of sorts, Amanda sought to regain some balance.

“So what is the next step?”

He rose, those long legs unwinding until he towered over her.

“You’re not going to like it,” he declared.

Readying herself for the worst−the inevitable joint trip to the police−the proposed media approach−the revelation to her staff−

“I’m going to stay here.”

−the long, curious looks−the reprimand that she had not confessed all−

“What?”

“I said I am going to stay here tonight. I’m sure you have a spare guest room somewhere in this place. You’re hiring me to protect you from this psycho. I can’t quite do it from my suite at the Marquis. And this guy has already tried to access your apartment−he’ll do it again.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel much better,” she retorted.

Ray looked down at her with a stern expression. “I’m not here to make you feel better. I’m here to keep you safe. I don’t coddle. I don’t give false assurances. I give you what I see, and what I see is an influential business owner being harassed by someone from her past. No, not harassed. Threatened. So I would like to stay here tonight, possibly several more nights until I can get a grip on this man.”

Startled by the relief she felt, Amanda tempered her reaction.

“Your professionalism was what motivated me to hire you on that Eclipse case.”

She rose and padded on stockinged feet towards the kitchen, pausing to glance back over her shoulder at him. “I’ll see to it that there is more than cheese and crackers in the kitchen tomorrow.”

***

Laying on her side, Amanda stared at the window. At this level she couldn’t see the lights of the city−only their tapering glow as they faded into night. The clock on the nightstand read 4:20am. Just outside her door, Ray was silent in the adjacent room. It was strange to realize that someone was in this apartment with her. With this personal security, why wasn’t she able to sleep?

They took my diamonds.

I took their lives.

Was it true? Had her parents really stolen those diamonds? It was unfathomable to believe, but she was too young, she didn’t really know them. She didn’t know their purpose for being in South Africa.

Clutching the sheet to her chest, she felt her heart pounding hard. This was not some ill-defined extortion plot. This man knew. He knew she had the diamonds.

The shrill ring of the phone on her nightstand vaulted her upright. Heart pounding, she stared at the blaring device in disbelief. 4:21am. This was the landline. It was used solely by the staff in her apartment complex to announce visitors.

She snatched the phone off its console while distantly acknowledging Ray’s urgent voice on the other side of her door.

“Yes?”

“Miss Newton?”

It was a hoarse voice that she barely recognized.

“Someone−someone just attacked me−”

She did recognize it. Young David Moore, the nighttime doorman.

“Mr. Moore, are you alright?” She slipped her legs off the bed and clasped the phone tight to her ear.

Ray knocked on the door, calling to her.

“I−I didn’t see him, madam. He snuck up on me. I−I’m so sorry!”

Amanda held her hand over the mouthpiece and yelled out, “Come in.”

Ray burst in wearing jeans and nothing else. She barely acknowledged that fact as she spoke into the phone again.

“It’s alright, Mr. Moore. Are you okay? Have you called the police?”

“I have, madam, but−but−I see that the elevator is going up−to your floor.”

Sucking in air, she pitched desperate eyes at Ray.

“Okay. Just get yourself some care, Mr. Moore. It will be alright.”

She slammed the phone down and bound from her bed, nearly colliding with Ray in her haste to get through the door.

“What is it?” he asked earnestly.

“The doorman has been attacked and he said that the elevator is on its way up to my floor. He did not see who got on it.”

Just now she realized that Ray was holding a gun. His face was lost in shadows, but his stance resembled a poised animal.

“Stay right here. Lock your bedroom door and only open it when you hear my voice. The police are on their way?”

She nodded numbly.

He moved out her door and motioned her to close it.

“Be careful,” she cried as that gap snapped shut.

She leaned against the wood, listening for his tread.

Never a very religious woman, nonetheless, she chanted a prayer for his safety. For the safety of both of them.

***

Ray stood poised just inside the front door of the apartment. His gun was raised. The moment he slipped out he would be exposed in the vaulted foyer that housed the elevator.

Nudging the door open, he was able to view the elevator. The light above it indicated it had reached its destination. It was sitting parked on Amanda’s floor, its panels about to slide open.

He moved out into the foyer and stood facing it with his legs spread and his arms locked. The barrel of his Glock aimed on that expanding line of light as the doors split open. Tensed, his finger caressed the trigger in practiced anticipation.

The doors opened to reveal an empty chamber. He stepped forward cautiously, hugging his shoulder to the thin slice of foyer wall as he trained the gun at the ceiling of the elevator. There were no panels amiss. The lift was completely empty.

Searching the interior he located a piece of paper on the floor. With one final assessing glance inside, he reached to snatch up the note and felt his stomach clench at the handwritten message.

You’re not as safe as you think you are.

Allowing the doors to slip shut, Ray hastened back into the apartment and rapped urgently on Amanda’s bedroom door.

“Amanda!”

She opened it, looking pale in the small gap.

“There was no one in the elevator,” he explained, trying to sound assuring.

Half-dressed in some sort of black yoga pants and a silky camisole, all he registered was champagne and lace against creamy skin.

“Finished getting dressed,” he commanded thickly. “The police should be here any second. I want to go downstairs, but I want you with me. I need to have my eyes on you.”

“Why?” Her gaze narrowed, but then landed on his bare chest.

Soft pink lips parted as she stared.

“That’s how it’s got to work now. I can’t protect you if I can’t see you.”

To her credit, Amanda was not one to argue futilely. She was smart enough to recognize when a situation called for immediate action.

“Give me two minutes,” she stated, closing the door but leaving it open an inch so that he could still speak to her through it.

“What do you think happened?” she asked, “did he run away after attacking David. Did he know that David called the police?”

With his back to the wall, Ray held the note in one hand and kept the gun in the other. No one was getting past him into Amanda’s bedroom. It was his job to protect her and it wouldn’t look good for the new business if his client was to die on the first day under his care.

“Just hurry,” he uttered.

Was this a scare tactic? A diversion?

While Ray was busy focusing on the elevator could the man have had an alternate access to the apartment? A staircase? From the roof perhaps? Feeling his muscles bunch, he searched the shadowed corners of the suite. He preferred working in the dark. His eyes were accustomed to it. Light was a foe. The darkness was always an ally.

A change in the air alerted that Amanda was opening her door. She stepped out looking composed in those black slim pants and black boots along with a long sleeved loose-fitting white shirt. In the minimal light he saw her eyes land on the gun. They flared slightly, but she just said, “I’m ready.”

“I need to get my shirt and shoes. Come with me.”

She followed him to the guest room and looked edgy when he shut the door behind her, closing her in with him. Standing stiffly adjacent to the door, those unwavering eyes followed his every motion when he slipped into a flannel shirt and stooped over to haul on a pair of boots. Each motion he did while still juggling the gun and note.

“What’s that paper?” she asked quietly.

Yes, he owed it to her to share the letter, but he was hoping to get her out of the building before doing so.

“There was a note inside the elevator.”

When she thrust forward he held the paper aloft, just out of her reach.

“When we’re downstairs.”

“Damn you,” she seethed.

“Curse me all you want, but just do it downstairs.” He took her slender arm and urged her towards the front door, motioning her to wait a second as he opened it.

The foyer was clear.

“Are there stairs?” he whispered.

Bleak eyes latched on a secreted door in the corner he had not had a chance to investigate. It blended in with the burgundy wallpaper.

It was a toss-up. The assailant could be lingering on the staircase, or he could be waiting in the lobby for them to descend in the elevator. Both means of descent bore equal hazards. Ray preferred the stairs to the whims of an externally-controlled machine.

Stuffing the note in his back pocket he reached for her hand. “Come on.”

Rooted in place, she stared down at that connection.

His expression softened. Her icy, sharp demeanor had grown so familiar, he forgot there was a very real woman beneath. Well…that was until he saw her in that camisole.

He linked his fingers with hers. “It’s going to be okay, Amanda. This is all precaution.”

A second’s hesitation and she nodded, starting towards the stairwell with him in tow.

“Whoa.” He tugged her to a halt and settled her behind him.

Sliding open the panel, he quickly pointed his gun into the dark stairwell.

“Is this normally lit?” Had the assailant knocked out the power?

“I only use these if the lift isn’t working, but from what I recall it’s always dark.”

“And how much do you pay on rent here?”

His brusque whisper faded as they crept down the first flight of stairs. The command for silence was unnecessary. Amanda trailed close enough he could feel their arms brush each time they reached out to use the thick banister for support in the dark. When they reached the landing he extended his hand behind him, intending to halt her progress. Blind fingers slipped into the gap of her coat and landed on her hip, curling around it. He could hear her suck in a swift breath, but there was no outburst. She obeyed the silent order and stood still as he moved to the top of the next flight of stairs.

In this quiet tandem they made it to the lobby where a young man sat in a chair with a hand to the back of his head. He was speaking into a cellphone but clumsily rose to attention at the sight of them.

“Miss Newton,” he ambled forward. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Moore.” She reached for the man, ushering him back to his seat. “Please sit down.”

Visibly stressed, the spindly man pointed towards his phone. “Do you want to talk to the police? They told me to hang on the line until they arrived.”

On cue, sirens sounded outside.

“Everything is okay, Mr. Moore. Have they called you an ambulance?”

“Yes.” Pulling his hand down from his head he held it up for her inspection. “No blood, though. Just a knock on the skull.” He searched her face and then cast a suspicious glance at Ray. “No one was up there, Miss Newton, right? You’re okay? I’m afraid I’m going to get fired over this.”

“You won’t be fired, Mr. Moore,” Amanda’s voice soothed. “You were assaulted and still you managed to warn me. You will be commended.”

Relief washed over the ashen face.

“You didn’t see or hear the man, correct?” Ray injected.

Skeptical at first, the young man hesitated, but proceeded after Amanda’s encouraging nod.

“No. No. I have my eyes on the front door at all times. He didn’t come in through the lobby entrance. He came up behind me so he had to have come in from the worker’s access door in the alley. It’s always locked, but he must have found a way in. I just felt a bash against my head and it knocked me to my knees, but I don’t think I went unconscious. I heard footsteps, but I was in so much pain and kind of blinded for a moment or two.” He shook his head in desperation. “By the time I gathered myself I was alone and I heard the ding of the elevator. I saw the floors numbers escalating and thought for sure someone got past me and was heading up to your apartment, Miss Newton.”

Amanda’s fingers patted the man’s arm. “You did great, Mr. Moore.” She glanced up as a pair of Bobbies and a trio of paramedics converged in the small lobby. “Now get yourself some attention. We’ll talk with the police.”

Ray marveled at her composure, but he knew now. He knew there was an anxious woman beneath all the poised veneer. And that woman was in danger. There was no disputing that. The police would take statements, but Amanda would divulge only the minimum amount of information. The authorities would have so little to work with. For some reason she trusted Ray. Grasping the magnitude of that trust inspired him. There was no way in hell he would ever let this assailant touch her.

***

“If I’m going to keep you safe, we have to do it on my terms,” Ray declared.

Anticipating her retort, he continued quickly. “I want to take you to New York.” After that little bomb settled, he added, “It’s my turf. If this man is determined enough to hop continents to follow you, he’ll be at a severe disadvantage that far from home.”

“Okay.”

“With your permission I can investigate what might have prompted your parents to take that trip to South Africa. I have enough connections—” He stopped and stared at her lips, not sure that he read them correctly.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” Amanda nodded, reaching for her laptop case.

Slim black heels clanked against the hardwood floors of her apartment as she stepped up to her front door and waited for him expectantly.

Yesterday had been consumed with police inquisitions. The authorities were beginning to get antsy with Amanda’s rash of inquiries, and she was clearly uncomfortable dealing with them. He did his best to take over the interrogations, introducing himself as her chief of security. The title didn’t impress them much, but eventually they concluded they would get nothing without going through him.

Of course, after all of that, Amanda insisted on going to the office. Ten hours later they finally returned to her apartment where they shared a take-out dinner. It was almost humorous to see the Ice Queen try to engage in small talk.

“What do you do in your downtime?” she asked while stirring a fork through her salad.

Ray watched her. Exquisite porcelain skin was shadowed by a sweep of glossy blonde hair. Elegant fingers clasped the fork with graceful dexterity. Almond silk hugged the curves of her breasts.

On the surface she had a beauty to vie with any mythical goddess. But, beneath her imperfections lurked…and they were what attracted him so much. Yes, she possessed a beautiful heart-shaped face and exotic upturned eyes a shade as vibrant as the blue diamond flashing on her finger. But at their core lurked shadows of the past. Shadows revealed only in these unguarded moments. They tempted him. He had lived in a shadow world. He connected with the shadows. For him, dusk was a 24-hour state of mind. And the dusk lingering in her eyes—beguiling him

“I don’t have much downtime,” he declared soberly.

Those tempting wells glanced up from the salad to stare at him for what some might consider an uncomfortable amount of time. He wasn’t self-conscious. He knew she was searching his shadows as well.

“And why did you say, okay so readily?” he asked suspiciously.

“You’re the boss, right?” She raised an amber eyebrow.

He wasn’t buying her acquiescence. “I suggest what you should do. Whether you want to listen or not is always up to you. I’m just surprised you’re suddenly listening. I would imagine that you feel most confident behind that desk at BLUE-LINK headquarters. Take you away from that domain, and no matter what you put on for the public, I’m sure you’re not as bold.”

Under her scrutiny again, he was surprised when a tired smile lifted her lips. It looked poignant and beautiful on her.

“Let me guess,” she said softly. “You had psychology classes in college.”

Ray crossed his arms and sat up straight on the stool. “In fact, I did. But a classroom can’t come close to teaching as much about the human psyche as warfare.”

She dipped her head in acknowledgement.

“I have a business meeting two days from now in New York City,” she announced. “My flights had already scheduled last week.”

Ray tipped his head back and laughed. He had been trumped by the beautiful Ice Queen.

“Aww hell, Amanda. Support a guy’s ego. Pretend you thought my idea was great and that you’re going to feel much safer away from here.”

“I don’t pretend, Mr. Gordon,” she replied levelly.

Ray sobered. He delved into those cerulean eyes and said, “Yes you do. Right now you’re pretending you’re not afraid.”