Chapter Two

Kellan Polizzi slipped on his sunglasses and closed the door behind him to the multi-million-dollar mansion he’d called home for the last few weeks. He took in the vast estate one last time, reveling in the view that spanned for miles. The place was incredible, but as much as he enjoyed living in the lap of luxury, he was ready to get home to his modestly-furnished one bedroom apartment located inside the COBRA Securities compound and his own bed for a little rest and relaxation before his next assignment.

He’d been sent to Los Angeles to assist fellow agents Mason Rossi and Sawyer Oldham in protecting Sawyer’s wife Harlow, and Mason’s charge Cassidy Swain when a stalker targeted Cassidy. Harlow and Cassidy had been competing in the latest installment of the reality competition Dancing With the Celebrities, Cassidy as a pro, Harlow as a celebrity.

Once the show ended with Harlow and her partner Glen Benson being declared champions, Harlow and Cassidy, along with Sawyer and Mason, completed a whirlwind tour of the late-night talk shows before jetting off for more interviews in New York on the network plane. He’d accompanied them on the Hollywood leg of the circuit, but they were surrounded by security provided by the television studio, so he wasn’t needed in the Big Apple. He’d come back to the house they shared the past few weeks and packed up the equipment and items the others didn’t want to tote to New York and shipped it home, including most of his belongings. It was easier to travel light.

He kept his laptop bag and a small suitcase packed with toiletries and a few clothes since he had to check his gun to board the flight. He hated being separated from his weapon, but rules were rules, and as a former cop, he learned to follow the rules. For the most part.

He stashed his bags in the back seat and then slid inside the rented SUV. After keying the airport into the navigation system, he headed for the freeway, merging with the ever-present heavy flow of Southern California traffic. Forgoing the air conditioning, he rolled the window down to enjoy the warm air and sunshine. Over the last few weeks, he’d seen most of the sights in and around Los Angeles, dined at some of the best restaurants in the country, and spent time with truly wonderful people. Not a bad first assignment as an official agent—despite the fact that he’d killed a man. Actually, it was a toss-up whose bullet hit Cassidy’s stalker first: his or Sawyer’s. Didn’t matter. The man had been poised to shoot Mason. Kellan didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.

He’d shot two people before on the job, the first as a beat cop and the second when he served as a detective in North Carolina. Neither perp had died, though he’d been prepared to kill either one. He’d been trained to never pull the trigger unless he intended for the suspect to die. The first person he’d shot had been a teenager high on crack. The kid was wielding a knife and he might’ve intended to use it, but Kellan couldn’t end his young life. A shot to the shoulder took care of the situation.

The second time, a man erratically drove his vehicle straight at a crowd. He shot the tires first and then the man, but he’d survived the bullet that pierced his chest. He crashed his car into a light post and the people had been saved.

He’d tried to mentally prepare himself for his first kill the day he graduated from the academy and pinned on his badge. He didn’t have the military background that several of his teammates possessed. He’d gone to college and then on to the police academy. He knew fellow officers who had a hard time after they’d been forced to pull the trigger and spent many hours either talking to a shrink or crawling into a bottle. Maybe it was because the guy was a psychopath, or maybe it was because of Kellan’s choice, Mason was alive, but he wouldn’t lose a bit of sleep over his decision to shoot. He knew Sawyer felt the same way.

Having spent every day the last few weeks with Mason and Sawyer, he’d gotten to know his coworkers well, and they reinforced his decision to quit the force. He truly liked them and was happy to call them friends. And both men were lucky to have met two magnificent women. He wasn’t in the market for a wife, but if he met a woman a fraction as nice, caring and beautiful as either Harlow or Cassidy, he might reconsider.

He followed the sultry voice on the onboard navigation system guiding him to the parking garage where BeBe Davis, the office manager extraordinaire, instructed him to return the rental. After he angled into a spot, he slid the keys under the floormat as directed and grabbed the bags from the back seat. His flight wasn’t for a couple of hours, so he had plenty of time to grab some coffee and catch up on his email.

He'd almost made it to the terminal when a small shape jumped in front of him, sending him stumbling back.

“Finally,” a soft voice said. “You’re late. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

He glanced behind him to see if the woman was talking to someone else, but he was alone. He assessed her with a cop’s trained eye. She stood a foot shorter than his six-three with aquamarine eyes the color of the sea and a faint pink blush staining her high cheekbones. A dark gray stocking cap covered most of her hair, but one silky strand of white blond escaped to curl around her chin.

She was incredibly gorgeous, but he had no idea what she was talking about. “Excuse me?”

“The man I spoke with at the security company said you’d be here hours ago. I don’t think I was followed, but I can never be sure.” Her eyes darted around nervously.

Kellan was totally confused. Had his bosses Luke Colton or Logan Bradley sent this woman to him? If so, why hadn’t they given him a heads-up? He was flying blind here.

“Oh, God, I think I see one of them.”

Every protective instinct in his body flared to life at the look of terror on her pretty face. Kellan grabbed her arm and toted her down the sidewalk. He had no idea what was going on, but if she was in danger, he was going to protect her. He hadn’t locked the door of the SUV, so he guided her there.

“What’s your name?” he asked as they dodged passengers with luggage and waited for a clearing to cross the street to the parking garage.

“Aaaa-ngela. Angela, uh, Johnson.”

A car whizzed by and then the road was clear. He steered her forward. “Nice to meet you, Angela.” He was fairly certain that wasn’t her real name since she dragged the first letter out so long. “My name’s Kellan Polizzi and I work for COBRA Securities. Is that the company you called?”

Angela jerked to a stop and he had to urge her forward out of the street before a bus plowed them over.

“No, I called Cable Security. Oh, God.”

She tried to jerk free, but he wasn’t letting her go. “It looks like they stood you up, but I can help you.” He reached in his pocket and withdrew a shiny business card. She would be the first recipient. “I need you to tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”

Tires squealed and his head snapped up to see a dark sedan racing towards them, a gun poking out the window. “Get down.” He shoved Angela behind a vehicle as shots rang out. Dammit, his gun was locked in his suitcase so he couldn’t fire back. He made sure Angela was safe before peeking around to access the scene. More squealing tires as the car rounded a corner and disappeared. He memorized the California license plate, knowing it was probably a waste of time since it was most likely stolen.

“Looks like they’re gone.” He stood and turned around. “Let’s get to my vehicle and you can tell me the details…” The space behind him was empty. “Angela?” He spun in a circle, searching under the nearest cars and then craning his head to look around, to no avail.

Angela Johnson was gone.

#

With a frustrated sigh, Kellan returned to the SUV. He’d searched the parking lot and the surrounding area but there was no sign of the terrified woman who needed help.

He glanced at his watch. His flight was due to leave soon. In fact, it’d probably be boarding now. How could he get on a plane knowing the woman was out there and possibly in jeopardy? It didn’t get much more dangerous than being fired at with high caliber weapons. But he had no way to contact her. He didn’t even know her real name. He was sure it wasn’t Angela Johnson.

Pulling out his phone, he called the direct line for Logan Bradley.

“What’s up, Kellan? You on your way back home?”

“I was, but something’s come up.” He explained about the woman approaching him outside the terminal and his thinking that she’d been sent to meet him. He told him about the gunmen trying to shoot them, and then her disappearing act.

“Did you get her name?” Logan asked.

“Angela Johnson, but I’m pretty sure it’s fake.”

“How are you going to find her in a city of four million people?”

“She was waiting on someone from Cable Security, a local company. I thought I’d check them out, see if they know who she is, or why she needed protection. If that doesn’t work, I gave her my business card. I can only hope she calls.”

“Do you have enough equipment with you?”

Equipment meaning weapons. “Just my Sig and vest. I shipped the rest back this morning.”

“If you find her and convince her to accept your help, let us know what you need and we’ll send it. Keep us posted.”

“I will and thanks, Logan. It might be a wild goose chase, but I can’t just leave knowing she’s out there needing help.”

“I totally understand.”

Logan transferred him to BeBe and he explained the situation and what he needed. She arranged for him to continue to use the SUV and made a reservation for a hotel close to the airport, all while they were on the phone. How, he had no idea. The woman was incredible. If you looked up multi-tasker in the dictionary, BeBe’s face would smile back at you. He thanked her and disconnected. Sliding the phone in his pocket, he let his eyes roam the area, looking for the woman but seeing no sign of her.

He returned to the SUV and loaded his bags. After he climbed inside, he looked up Cable Security on his phone. He found the address, entered it into the GPS and followed the directions. He was seeing parts of the city he hadn’t been to before. He turned right when the automated voice instructed him to and found himself in the parking lot of a strip mall. The voice announced that he’d arrived at his destination. Driving slowly along the storefronts, he located the sign indicating the company between a Chinese restaurant and a discount craft store.

He locked the SUV with the key fob and scanned the surrounding area as he crossed the parking lot. The enticing aromas of garlic, ginger and sesame oil coming from the restaurant next door had his mouth watering as he entered the office. A middle-aged woman with short red hair and a friendly smile greeted him when he stepped inside.

“Good morning and welcome to Cable Security. How can I help you today?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Graves,” he read from her nameplate, “I was wondering if I could speak with the person who coordinates your assignments.”

“That would be Mr. Moody. Do you have an appointment?”

“No, sorry.”

“Not a problem. Let me see if he’s available. Can I tell him your name?”

“Kellan Polizzi.”

“Have a seat, Mr. Polizzi, and I’ll be back in a moment. Can I get you a cup of coffee while you wait?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

He chose a chair in the corner with a view of the office as well as the parking lot. Judging by the interior, Cable Security was moderately successful. The reception area was clean and the furnishings were tasteful and classic. Tables held an assortment of magazines, their edges perfectly aligned—OCD much? Fake plants in terra cotta vases were interspersed around the room. The rich, fragrant aroma of coffee permeated the air from the pot brewing on a credenza, and he could just detect the notes of a classical piece filtering through the speakers located high on the walls.

“Mr. Polizzi?” He stood when the receptionist returned. “Mr. Moody will see you now.”

He followed her down the beige carpeted hall and thanked her when she ushered him inside. His first thought was that he’d feel claustrophobic if he had to work in the small space every day with no window. His second was that Moody wasn’t the one in the workplace suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder. Whereas the front area was tidy and organized, Moody’s office looked like it’d been hit by an F5 tornado. Files were haphazardly stacked on every flat surface and take-out containers littered the top of a filing cabinet that was obviously only there for decoration. A quick glance at the overflowing trash bin and he located the source of the burnt popcorn smell. Mrs. Graves smiled at him and then scooped files off the visitor’s chair so he’d have a place to sit.

“You sure I can’t get you a cup of coffee?”

“I’m sure. Thanks, Mrs. Graves.”

Once she left and closed the door, the room seemed even smaller. He wondered how Moody stood it for eight hours a day. Judging by his pasty complexion and protruding gut, he didn’t get much sun or exercise.

“Hal Moody.” The man offered his hand and they shook. Hal was pushing sixty with a bald head and keen green eyes. “How can I help you? Do you need to hire a bodyguard?”

“Actually, we’re in the same business.”

Hal’s eyes dropped to the embroidered logo on Kellan’s shirt and his brows raised. “COBRA Securities? No shit?”

Kellan nodded.

“Damn, you guys are badass.” He opened his hands wide. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to inquire about a woman who might’ve retained your services. She was supposed to meet one of your men at the airport today.”

Hal sat back in his chair, the springs groaning in protest. His pot belly strained the buttons on his short-sleeved brown shirt, and there was a stain on the right side that looked like it might’ve been mustard. It wasn’t even ten in the morning.

“Oh her. Yeah, what a certified wingnut.” Hal made a twirling motion beside his head. “She called and begged me to take her case, even though she couldn’t pay. Said she was good for the money.” He scoffed. “That’s what they all say, right? Like we’re supposed to do this for charity or something. After she started sobbing like a baby, I agreed to have her meet with one of my guys just so she’d shut up. His flight was delayed and she called, demanding to know where he was. I told her to take a chill pill, that he’d be there. But when he arrived, she wasn’t there. Pissed me off something fierce. She was a pest, bugging me about where he was and then she didn’t even have the courtesy to stick around.” He shook his head. “Like I said, certified wingnut.”

Kellan ground his teeth and reined in his temper. The man was starting to get on his nerves. The woman obviously needed help and he’d treated her like a nuisance. “Do you know her name?”

“Got it here somewhere.” Leaning forward, he lifted a pair of thick black reading glasses and slid them on before shuffling papers around on his desk. “Here it is.” He tugged the sheet out. “Angela Johnson.”

Kellan’s heart sank. She’d given him her fake name, too. “Do you have a phone number?”

“No. She said her phone battery was low, so she’d call me. Number was blocked on caller ID.”

Frustration was building. “Any way to contact her at all?”

“Nope.”

This had been a wasted trip. A headache was gathering strength behind his eyes. “Did she tell you why she wanted to hire you?”

“Nothing much. Same old, same old. Someone was after her and she needed a bodyguard.”

This guy was no help whatsoever. Kellan stood. “Thanks, Mr. Moody, I appreciate your time.” He handed him a business card. “If she calls again, can you get her contact information and give me a ring?”

“Sure, sure. But why do you want to know about her? She’s a fruitcake.”

And you’re an asshole. “Just following through on a lead.” No way would he tell this man anything.

Hal scurried around his desk. “Say, would there happen to be any openings with your company? They have a reputation as one of the best in the business.”

The best, Kellan wanted to correct him. But this man and his judgmental attitude wouldn’t pass muster. A woman needed help, for hell’s sake, and he treated her like an annoyance. “I don’t have anything to do with hiring, but if you give me your card, I’ll pass it along.” Right into the trash can.

“Great, thanks.” Hal fell over himself to snatch a business card from a holder on his desk.

Kellan tucked the card in his pocket, shook Moody’s hand and left the office. He waved his thanks to Mrs. Graves, who was on the phone and stepped into the sunshine. Disappointment settled in his gut like a concrete block. He’d hoped to come away with at least a contact number for Angela. He had no other way of finding her in a city of millions. His only hope was that she’d call him.

After climbing into the SUV, he headed back to the parking lot where he’d last seen her. Maybe she was still hanging around the airport. He parked in the same spot and shut off the engine. When he slid out, something on the ground caught his attention. He bent down and picked it up, his eyes closing in regret. It was his business card. With a sigh, he stood. He had no way to contact Angela Johnson and now she had no way to contact him.

#

Annabelle slammed the door to her room shut and slid the chain into place. Her heart was pounding, and she didn’t know if it was from being shot at or having run into the man with the most beautiful face she’d ever seen. He’d said his name was Kellan. Tall, muscular, light brown hair and eyes the color of aged whiskey. He was by far the most handsome man she’d ever met.

Now that she was back in her room and alone, she wondered why she’d run from him. He’d been willing to help her. Why didn’t she take him up on it? She’d spent all that time on the phone yesterday begging people to help her and here one offered and she’d turned him down. Actually, she didn’t turn him down—she bolted like a scared rabbit. She was such an idiot.

He said he worked for COBRA Securities. She dug her phone out of her bag and realized in her haste to return to her room, she’d neglected to buy a charger. She had ten missed texts. Four were from Robbie, two from his vapid wife Vespa, two from her service provider wanting her to buy more products, and two from a lawyer at Windham, Wallace and Pierce, asking her to call him as soon as possible. She also had several voice mail messages, but they were probably from Robbie, so she ignored them.

Before she researched Kellan’s company, she dialed the law offices and asked for Mr. Walters. The hold music just started to play when a deep voice came across the line.

“Ms. St. John, thank you for calling me back. I’m taking over Mr. Windham’s clients and wanted to introduce myself.”

Sweet, grandfatherly Mr. Windham. Dead because of her. “I was saddened to hear of his passing.”

“As were we. A terrible thing.”

“Are there any leads on why he was murdered?” In other words, were the police onto Robbie?

“None, yet, but the authorities are keeping tight-lipped. Ms. St. John, I have a few forms I need to you to come to the office and sign at your earliest convenience.”

There was no way she was venturing out by herself, not to mention the fact that she was currently without transportation. “I’m not sure when I can get there. It won’t be for a few days.”

“There’s no immediate hurry, but I do need you to come in as soon as possible so there’s no delay in finalizing the will.”

In other words, the will might get hung up in probate. The sooner she had control, the better. Once everything was hers, Robbie would have no way to get his hands on the money. He still might want to kill her, but he wouldn’t have a claim on the money. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“That would be great. How are you doing, Annabelle? I know it’s been a rough few weeks for you.”

His voice had dropped almost seductively and a shudder raced down her spine. How could someone give you the creeps over the phone? And he was being awfully forward calling her by her first name when she’d never met him before. She certainly didn’t feel comfortable calling him by his first name—not that she knew what it was.

“As good as can be expected. Thank you for asking, Mr. Walters.”

“Call me Cory, please. If there’s anything I can do for you, Annabelle, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

Ugh. “Okay. Thanks.”

“I look forward to meeting you in person, Annabelle.”

She hung up before he could say anything else. Now she didn’t want to have to meet with him. If he creeped her out over the phone, she couldn’t imagine what he’d do to her in person.

Pushing the thought of Cory Walters from her mind, she typed the name of Kellan’s security company into her browser and started reading.

After only two articles, she decided this was the firm that could help her. They were incredible. She visited their website, but it was surprisingly bare bones. No list of employees or anything. She could really jazz it up, make it a showpiece. Of course, maybe they didn’t want to list their employees for some reason. She clicked on the contact tab and a form popped up that she could fill out. There was also an eight-hundred number. No address. She hoped they were in California. Kellan had been at the airport, but maybe he was jetting off for a case.

That made her pause. If he was working for another client, he wouldn’t be able to help her. Despite the fact that she’d ran from him faster than Usain Bolt crossing the finishing line, she trusted him. She didn’t know why and it was ridiculous, but she couldn’t change her feelings. She didn’t want him passing her off to someone else. She rummaged in her pockets for his business card but came up empty. She checked her purse in case she stuck it in there, but it was nowhere to be found.

Plopping down to the mattress, she debated on what she should do. She couldn’t stay in this room forever. She needed to go back to her house and pack. She wanted to empty out the safe deposit box her mother purchased for her years ago. It held all her important documents as well as mementos from her parents. And now she needed to add a trip to the lawyer’s office to the list. So much to do and she couldn’t do it alone.

Picking up her phone, she dialed the eight-hundred number for COBRA Securities. An automated message came on with a menu of options, or you could punch in the person’s extension. She chose the option for the main office.

“Thank you for calling COBRA Securities. How may I direct your call?”

“This might sound strange, but I met one of your employees today and he gave me his card, but I’ve lost it. I was hoping I could get his number.”

“If you can hold please, I’m going to transfer you to our office manager, BeBe.”

“Thanks.”

She didn’t have long to wait.

“This is BeBe. How can I help you?” She repeated the spiel she recited to the woman who answered the phone. “Sure. Who did you meet?”

“Kellan. I don’t remember his last name.”

“Polizzi. Is this Angela?”

Annabelle gasped and jerked the phone away to stare at it. How did this woman know her name? Had Robbie gotten to them already? She put the phone back to her ear. “How did you—”

“From Kellan. He’s been trying to find you. He even canceled his flight home. He wants to help you.”

Okay, Kellan told the woman. That made sense. She relaxed. “I’m sorry. I’m a little jumpy.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

Something the woman said just penetrated. “You said he canceled his flight home? Where are you located?”

“We’re headquartered in Indiana.”

Indiana. That was hundreds of miles away. “Why was Kellan here? Is he working on a case?”

“He just finished one, so he’s available to help if you’ll let him.”

A feeling of rightness washed over her. Fate had to have a hand in their meeting. He came along when she needed him. “I do want his help.”

“Great. Here’s his cell number.” BeBe recited the digits and she scribbled them down. “Thank you so much. I appreciate this.”

“No problem. And Angela? You can trust Kellan. You couldn’t be in better hands.”

She thanked the woman and disconnected. If Kellan’s company was headquartered in the Midwest, there was a minuscule chance that they knew Robbie or that he’d have any influence on them at all. It seemed almost too good to be true. Add in the fact that Kellan was the most handsome man she’d ever seen and fate definitely had to be involved. Either that or Rob was taking care of her from the grave.