Snowfall Page 6

  “I can get rid of him.”

  She shook her head. “No, let him come up. The sooner I get this over with, the better off I’ll feel.”

  “Send him up,” Aaron said.

  Mike hung up the phone and then nodded to Kenny, who immediately strode toward the elevator that went directly to the penthouse. Without a key card, he had to wait for Mike to use the console at his desk to send him up. When the doors closed, he turned to the mirrored panels, admiring his reflection. Even though he was pissed that Caitlin hadn’t bothered to call him, he wasn’t going to give Aaron Workman the satisfaction of knowing he was mad.

  The elevator stopped and opened. He strode across the hall and rang the bell. Moments later, the door opened.

  “Morning, Kenny,” Aaron said, and stepped aside to let him in.

  “Workman,” Kenny muttered, then lifted his head like a dog testing the air for the scent of prey. “Where is she?”

  “In her room, lying down. Follow me, I’ll show you.”

  “I know where her bedroom is,” Kenny said, and pushed past him.

  Aaron was right on his heels. He wasn’t going to give Leibowitz the opportunity to hassle Caitlin. Not today. She already had more on her plate than she could say grace over.

  Kenny knocked once, then strode into Caitlin’s room without waiting for permission to enter. He’d practiced what he was going to say all the way across town, debating with himself as to whether he should admit to being insulted that she hadn’t called him personally or be completely sympathetic to her injuries. When he saw her face, he opted for the sympathy route.

  “My God!” he gasped, then crossed the room to sit down on the side of her bed. “You poor, poor darling. Are you all right? Why didn’t you call me? I should have been there for you.” Then he glared at Aaron, as if it was all his fault.

  Aaron ignored him and looked at Caitlin. “Want me to stay?”

  Kenny spun, his face twisted in anger. “What the hell do you mean? I’m not going to pounce on her the moment your back is turned. Get out, before I throw you out.”

  “Kenny, for God’s sake, lower your voice,” Caitlin murmured, clutching her hands to her head. “My head hurts, and I’m not in the mood to listen to you two fight.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “But I won’t be treated like a—”

  “The next person who raises a voice in this room is going out of here on his ass.”

  Caitlin moaned and closed her eyes, shutting out the big man standing in the doorway. This was getting better by the moment. Aaron and Kenny barely tolerated each other, but it had never been a problem before. Now they were acting like two jealous suitors. Toss in the added distraction of dealing with Connor McKee and the sanctity of her home had pretty much been screwed.

  “Really,” she muttered, glaring at Mac from the bed. “I fail to see the need to resort to physical violence.”

  “I haven’t hurt him…yet,” Mac drawled.

  Kenny paled. The man in the doorway was a stranger—a big stranger. And from the look on his face and the size of his hands, he looked as if he could make good on his threat. His mood shift was immediate as he laid a proprietary hand on Caitlin’s leg.

  “Who is he?” he asked.

  “He’s Aaron’s brother, Connor McKee.” She looked at Mac and spoke a little louder. “Mac, Kenny Leibowitz is my publicist.”

  Mac did little more than nod, while Kenny’s eyebrows arched dramatically. His gaze slid from Aaron to Mac and back again.

  “Well…it’s easy to see where all the testosterone went in your family,” he drawled.

  The slight made the gleam in Mac’s eyes a little brighter, but Aaron just laughed.

  “Kenny, Kenny, Kenny, methinks you doth protest too much about your own.”

  Kenny stood abruptly, his fists doubled. At that moment, Mac took charge.

  “You,” he said, pointing at Kenny. “Get out. Now. Aaron, explain the situation to Mr. Leibowitz and then show him out the door. If he has any more communicating to do with Caitie, he can do it by phone.”

  Kenny’s face grew red with anger. “You can’t just—”

  “Please, Kenny, I’m not up to this. The doctor told me to rest, not referee. Aaron, fill Kenny in on what’s happening and, Kenny, I’d better not find out you’re using any of it to publicize Dead Lines.”

  Caitlin’s voice was soft and shaky, but it got the desired result. Leibowitz flushed as Aaron walked out of the room. He looked at Caitlin with something close to regret. He’d made an impression on her, all right, but nothing like he’d planned.

  “Forgive me, darling,” he said softly. “Chalk all of this up to worry. I’ll be in touch.” He strode out of the room past Mac, giving him a cold, angry stare.

  Other than a narrowing of his eyes, Mac’s reaction to Leibowitz was mute and hard to gauge.

  Once they were alone, Mac found himself locked into another staring match, this time with Caitlin. After a few moments of total silence, he took a deep breath, started to speak, then cursed beneath his breath and walked away, closing the door behind him.

  Caitlin reached for the bottle of pain pills and shook one out, only realizing afterward that her water glass was empty. Groaning beneath her breath, she swung her legs off the bed and sat up, knowing it was going to hurt like hell to stand. She leaned forward, hoping to use her body weight as leverage, and knocked the empty water glass off the nightstand. It hit the hardwood floor, shattering into pieces. Seconds later, Mac burst into the room.

  “What happened? Are you all right? Hellsfire, woman, why didn’t you call for help?”

  “I broke a glass, yes, I’m fine, and I only wanted to go to the bathroom to get some water so I could take a pain pill, because I hurt from my teeth to my toenails, and if you yell at me one more time, I am going to cry.” At which point, having stated the obvious, she burst into tears.

  Connor McKee felt like the lowest of the low. He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from saying anything more and simply walked across the room, scooped her out of the bed and carried her into the bathroom, gingerly stepping over the broken glass as he went. Then he set her on her feet by the commode and walked out, quietly closing the door behind him.

  Caitlin used the drinking glass on the sink to take her pill and then sat on the closed commode to wait. Mac hadn’t said he would be back, but she knew him well enough to know that since he’d brought her here, he would eventually come back to get her.

  She sat, feeling sorry for herself for the mess she was in, and heard Aaron’s cry of surprise, then offer of help as he ran to get a broom and dustpan. When she heard the occasional clink of glass, she guessed Mac was dropping the shards into the wastebasket by her bed.

  She sat without moving, straining toward the sound of their voices. They were too low for her to hear what was being said, although she knew they were talking about her. About the letters. And the bomb threat. And the fact that someone wanted her dead.

  From where she was sitting, the full-length mirror on the inside of her bathroom door was both a help and a hindrance. She didn’t have to move to see the extent of the damage that had been done to her body. She just wasn’t sure she wanted to see it all at once. Her face was bad enough. If she hadn’t known it was her own reflection, she would not have recognized herself. Half her face was streaked with dark purple hues, and the eyebrow with the stitches was swollen to half again its normal size. Her lower lip was puffy, and there was a series of small abrasions on the left side of her cheek. Still curious, she unbuttoned the top three buttons of her pajama top and let it drop off her shoulder.

  Her eyes widened in shock at the extent of the contusions. With shaking hands, she pulled her pajama top back in place and redid the buttons. It was difficult to accept that someone wanted her dead, but the facts were too blatant to ignore. She closed her eyes, willing herself to a calm she didn’t feel, and was sitting quietly, her crying spell over, when the knock sounded on the door.

  “Come
in,” she said.

  Mac opened the door. “Are you ready to get back in bed?”

  “Yes, please,” she said, then held her breath as he came toward her.

  He picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all and carried her back to her bed, laying her gently down on her pillows.

  Caitlin winced as she reached for the covers.

  “Let me,” Mac said, and pulled them up to her waist, where she could adjust them to her satisfaction.

  “Thank you,” she said, and heard Mac sigh.

  “You’re welcome,” he answered. He’d started to leave when he stopped and turned.

  “Caitie?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry…really, really sorry I made you cry.”

  The tenderness was unexpected, especially from this man. And because it was so unexpected, she found herself unable to say much for fear of crying all over again.

  “Yes…well, thank you,” she said, then turned on her side and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his footsteps as he walked away.

  A short while later, as she was drifting in a haze induced by the painkiller she had taken, the phone rang. She burrowed deeper beneath her covers, knowing that, for the time being, Connor McKee was standing between her and the world. She didn’t bother to consider why that didn’t seem as bizarre as it once might have, or why her opinion of him had changed. All that mattered was that he was here and, for the first time in months, she knew she was safe.

  The next morning she awakened to the sound of strangers’ voices and a lot of hammering and banging. Swinging her legs to the side of the bed, she grabbed her robe and house shoes and bolted from the room, to find Connor and two men in a tangle of boxes and wires.

  “Connor McKee, what on earth are you doing?” she demanded, eyeing the pair of strangers and the mess on her living room floor.

  Mac grinned. Her hair was tangled, the belt of her robe was dragging on the floor and the house shoes she persisted in wearing were nothing short of a joke.

  “Installing your security system.”

  “Well, no one asked me,” she huffed.

  “Caitie, if you want to be taken seriously, you’re going to have to wear another pair of shoes.”

  She glanced down at her puppy slippers and then up at him in disgust.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my shoes.”

  “You need the security.”

  She sighed. “You should have warned me.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, as long as it doesn’t happen again.”

  “No, ma’am. It sure won’t.”

  She twiddled with the end of her belt and then realized all three men were trying not to laugh. Disgusted with herself and with the male species in general, she pivoted sharply, and as she did, stepped on the ear of one of her puppy slippers. Staggering forward, she caught herself before falling.

  “You all right?” Mac asked.

  She wouldn’t turn around. It sounded like he was laughing.

  “I’m fine,” she said, and stomped out of the room.

  Seconds later she heard a choked, gurgling sound and then a soft guffaw. Damn them. Damn them all straight to hell.

  She slammed the door, making sure that it echoed, and crawled back into bed.

  Five

  When the doorbell sounded, Mac rushed to answer it before it awakened Caitlin. He knew who it was and why they were here, but they’d taken their sweet time in coming. He’d expected them to show before he and Caitlin had left the hospital. The men from the security company had long since gone, and it was almost noon.

  Aaron had reported the fake doctor incident to the police. Knowing his brother’s penchant for dramatics, Mac figured he’d more than made his point that Caitlin Bennett was in danger and it was about damned time someone admitted it. With that thought in mind, he opened the door.

  “Yes?”

  Neil flashed his badge.

  “Detective Neil,” he said shortly. “This is my partner, Detective Kowalski. I understand there was another incident involving Miss Bennett?”

  “I suppose you could call it that,” Mac said. “Come in.” Then he stepped aside to let them enter and closed the door. “This way,” he said, and led the way into the living room, then paused, gesturing for them to be seated. “What took you so long?” Mac asked.

  Neil took one end of the sofa, while his partner took the other. He waited until Mac had seated himself on the opposite side of the coffee table before speaking. “We had an emergency call to answer. Sorry.” Then he shifted mental gears and pinned Mac with a hard look.

  “I was given to understand that Miss Bennett doesn’t have any family,” J.R. said.

  “She doesn’t.”

  “Then who are you?”

  “My name is Connor McKee. I own McKee Security, out of Atlanta. Aaron Workman, her editor, is my stepbrother. He called me. I came.”

  Neil made a couple of notes and then looked up. “Where is Miss Bennett?”

  “Asleep. She’s still in a lot of pain, and I’d rather not disturb her. Besides, if you’re here about what happened at the hospital last night, there’s no need to talk to her.”

  “Why not?” Neil asked.

  “Because she slept through it. I’m the one who woke up and saw the man standing in her room, and I’m the one he spoke to.”

  “He spoke to you?” Trudy asked.

  “Yes, but I think I surprised him. He came into the room sometime after three in the morning. When I stood up and asked him what he was doing, he gave me some cock-and-bull story that didn’t check out.”

  “Exactly what did he say?” J.R. asked.

  “He said his name was Dr. Frost and that he was looking for a Mr. Benton’s room.”

  “That doesn’t sound out of the ordinary,” Trudy said. “The last names are pretty similar…Benton…Bennett. Maybe it was just a case of mistaken identity.”

  “That’s what I thought at first, until I asked a nurse if there was a patient by the name of Benton on the floor. She told me there wasn’t, and then asked why I wanted to know. I told her a man identifying himself as Dr. Frost had been looking for his room.”

  “And?” Trudy prompted.

  “She said Dr. Frost is an OB/GYN. He wouldn’t have any male patients, no matter what floor they were on.”

  “Oops. Looks like your intruder didn’t do his homework,” she said, then eyed him carefully. “But you did, didn’t you? What tipped you off?”

  “Have you ever been hospitalized?” Mac asked.

  Trudy nodded.

  “No matter what time of night it is or how soundly you’re sleeping, when a doctor or nurse comes into the room, they always turn on the lights, don’t they?”

  Trudy’s red curls bobbed as she nodded again. “A couple of years ago I had an appendectomy. Didn’t get a wink of sleep until I got to go home.”

  “Exactly. But this man didn’t turn on the lights or make a sound. In fact, he was halfway to Caitlin’s bed in the dark when I stood up.”

  Neil leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “And why were you there?”

  “Protecting her.”

  “How long have you known Miss Bennett?”

  “A little more than three years.”

  Neil took silent note of the way McKee answered—almost as if he was uncomfortable being on the receiving end of their questions.

  “Have you always been in security?” he asked.

  “No, I was with Atlanta PD for fifteen years.”

  “Why did you quit?”

  “Lost one too many partners. Watched one too many perps walk because of a legal technicality. You name it. I burned out, pure and simple.”

  “Boy, do I understand that,” Trudy said.

  But Neil wasn’t comfortable with the man’s presence and made it known.

  “This is our investigation,” he said shortly. “We don’t need any vigilantes.”

  Mac resisted the urge to smir
k. “Miss Bennett will be pleased to know that you’ve finally admitted there’s something to investigate.”

  The detective’s lips thinned in anger, but he kept his silence as Mac added, “I have no intention of investigating anything. I’m not a P.I. I own and operate a company that installs and upgrades security systems…period. I volunteered to stay with Caitlin until the man is caught, so the sooner you get your job done, the happier we’ll all be.”

  “Can you give us a description of the man?” Trudy asked.

  Mac frowned. “Not really. I only got a glimpse of him as he opened the door and slipped out. It was pretty fast, and I’d been asleep when he walked in. I do know that he was Caucasian, at least six feet tall. He had brown curly hair and a mustache, and was probably in his late thirties. However, if he was there to finish what he started, I would guess he was wearing a disguise.”

  “Is there anything else?” Trudy asked.

  “No.”

  “You’re pretty sure of yourself,” Neil said.

  Mac shrugged. “Yeah, so I’ve been told.”

  Neil’s jaw set as he handed Mac a card. “If you think of anything else, give us a call.”

  Mac dropped the card into his pocket without comment.

  “By the way, where is Aaron Workman?” Neil asked. “I expected him to be here.”

  “He went to work. If you need to talk to him, he’s at his office.”

  Neil stood up. “Thank you for your help. We’ll be in touch.”

  “So will we,” Mac said, and ushered them to the door, then locked it behind them.

  The two detectives heard the distinct click of tumblers and grinned before heading to the elevator.

  “I wouldn’t mind being guarded by a man like that,” Trudy said.

  J.R. arched an eyebrow. “Well, well, Kowalski, you never fail to amaze me.”

  The elevator opened. They walked in, then turned to face the door as J.R. punched the button to take them down.

  “Why?” Trudy asked, as the car began to descend.

  “I didn’t know you were into oversize thugs.”

  “Just because he’s bigger than you doesn’t make him a thug,” Trudy said. “Besides, I was always a sucker for men with dark hair and blue eyes.”