Chapter 7
SEVEN
Callum rubbed at his throbbing temples, staring down at the limp figure sprawled at his feet. Brielle rushed up behind him and froze.
“Oh my God,” she gulped, swaying slightly at the sight. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”
“No,” Callum said evenly. “I didn’t kill him. I just knocked him out.”
“Yeah,” she shot back, “knocked all the blood out of him.”
“It’s a head wound. Head wounds bleed.”
“How the hell would you know? You’re not a doctor!” She hurried to the light switch and snapped it on, then dropped to her knees beside the man lying face down in the spreading puddle. Her stomach churned. “This looks terrible. Shouldn’t we call the cops or something?”
“I’m telling you. He’s fine. I didn’t hit him that hard. Now, how about you step away so I can do my job.”
She stood up and moved aside with a flourish. “Be my guest.”
Callum circled the body with his hands on his hips, forcing himself to slow down and assess. When he turned, he caught Brielle’s eyes snag on the faint flash of metal beneath his waistband.
“What is that?”
“A gun.” He drew it out and glanced at it like he was checking the time. “Still is a gun.”
“I thought we had an agreement about guns.”
“I didn’t shoot him, did I?” Callum shoved it back under his shirt and dropped to one knee, patting the man down quickly, methodically. Nothing. He straightened.
He noticed she stepped back a few steps as he wedged his foot under the man’s shoulder and rolled him onto his back.
The sharp inhale behind him told him everything before she said it.
“Oh my God! That’s Geoffrey.”
“Geoffrey?”
She dropped to her knees beside him and slapped his cheek, harder than necessary. “Nice job, Callum. You could have at least asked who he was before you assaulted him.”
“I thought he was trying to kill you,” Callum shot back. “What the hell is he doing breaking into my house? He was supposed to be in Bermuda.”
“How do you think he knew I was here?”
Callum just looked at her. “You didn’t talk to him?”
“No.”
Even after Brielle cleaned the blood from Geoffrey’s face and the floor, the man didn’t stir. He lay there slack but breathing, oblivious to the damage he’d caused just by showing up.
Callum didn’t have the time or the patience to let him sleep it off. He bent and hauled Geoffrey up over his shoulder.
“Where are you taking him?” Brielle asked. “He’s not good in stressful situations like this. He might not have bled to death, but you might give him a heart attack.”
“Seems like he asked for one.” Callum brought him back to the guest bedroom and dropped him on the bed.
Callum watched Brielle linger in the doorway, her eyes fixed on an unconscious Geoffrey. Whatever she was feeling, it didn’t look like relief. He could see it in the stiffness of her posture, the way she didn’t move toward the bed, or toward him.
She watched him as he went over to his dresser and opened the top drawer.
He dug through it, finally pulling out an old flannel shirt.
“Look, you have to play tomorrow and you don’t want to be tired.
So how about you put this on instead and head to my room or the couch. I’ll keep an eye on Geoffrey.”
He made sure there was no smile when he said it. He kept his voice level. Professional. Creating distance between them
“What about you? Aren’t you going to sleep? Your head was really hurting…”
“I’ll need to watch him. You go on…” He placed the flannel nightshirt in her open palm. “Please.”
He noticed her glance down at herself, the shift in her body language as awareness replaced adrenaline. She put on the shirt and buttoned it as she moved toward the door.
“Good night,” she said.
Callum didn’t answer. He listened as her footsteps faded toward the kitchen, the quiet settling heavy in the room.
He pulled a chair up to the foot of the bed and sat, his eyes never leaving the figure sprawled in front of him.
Geoffrey Martin didn’t look like much. Certainly not the man Brielle had painted as some kind of steadfast protector.
Short. Balding. Late-forties. Callum felt irritation curl low in his gut.
Brielle struck him as someone who saw people for who they claimed to be, not who they actually were. He stared at her fiancé.
Geoffrey Martin was a liar.
Callum rose abruptly and drove his foot into the mattress. “Hey buddy. Naptime is over. We gotta talk now.”
Geoffrey moaned, eyelids fluttering before settling again.
“Up and at ’em. I got some questions for you.”
Slowly, Geoffrey’s eyes opened. “Where am I?” he whispered, rubbing the side of his head. “What happened?”
“What happened is you broke into my house. Ever hear of knocking?”
Geoffrey licked dried blood from his lips. “You must be Callum Harrison. Frank gave me this address. He said it was a safe house.”
“Frank Riley? What were you talking to him about?”
Geoffrey made a weak attempt to sit up, then groaned and collapsed back. “I was getting ready to leave Bermuda when Frank called. Said some guy cornered Brielle at a bar. I chartered an earlier flight. Is she here?”
“She’s asleep in the other room.” Callum nodded toward the door. “She’s okay.”
Geoffrey lifted a hand in acknowledgment. Callum could tell he’d rung his bell hard. Probably a concussion. He would’ve let him suffer longer if he weren’t so eager for answers. He brought back a damp towel from the bathroom and tossed it to him. It smacked him in the face.
“You talked to Frank. Where the hell have you been? Brielle’s been calling you constantly.”
“On location,” Geoffrey mumbled. “Hard to reach.”
“You mean the woman you love is in danger and she can’t call you?”
“She knows I have other clients. Besides, isn’t that what you were hired for? Her bodyguard?”
Callum crouched, meeting his beady brown eyes. Up close, Geoffrey looked more like a burrowing animal than human. Over-tanned skin stretched too tight, faint scars where money had tried to erase his age.
“You know,” Callum said evenly, “I’d think a guy like you would have trouble jetting off with another woman knowing your fiancée could be in danger.”
Geoffrey pressed the towel to his head. “I’m a business manager. Nila Norcova is my client.”
“And you’re a lousy liar.” Callum paced. “A little birdie told me you earn sixty percent of Nila’s earnings. Twenty-five of Brielle’s. So you’ve been pushing Nila’s endorsement deals over Brielle’s. Why.”
Geoffrey squinted. “What are you getting at?”
“By passing her crown to Nila, you make more money.” Callum stopped pacing. “Interesting timing. Now that Brielle is sidelined, Nila is more palatable to advertisers.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Do you love Brielle?”
Geoffrey stiffened. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Callum retrieved an envelope from the dresser and tossed it onto Geoffrey’s chest. “If she means so much, why sabotage her comeback by turning down revenue generating opportunities and give them to Nila Norcova instead?”
Geoffrey looked surprised. “Where did you find these?”
“Emails. A friend of mine found.” Callum knelt again, lowering his voice. “Let me ask you this. Were you the one who sidelined Brielle in the first place?”
“You’re crazy!”
“Am I?”
“Has Brielle seen these emails?”
“No.”
Color flooded Geoffrey’s face. “Her career won’t last forever. Nila is the future. In the end, Brielle wins. When we marry, the money is ours not just mine.”
“So the ends justify the means.”
Geoffrey licked his lips, finally he just shook his head and said, “I’m terminating your services.”
Callum stood slowly, anger tightening his chest. “You don’t employ me. Which means you don’t fire me. And if you think you can do anything to hurt or exploit her any more than you already have, think again. The bump on your head will be the least of your worries.”
“Are you threatening me, Mr. Harrison?”
Callum smiled. “Absolutely.”
The moon was still high in the sky when Brielle awoke on the couch.
She guessed she hadn’t slept long, but it was time enough for an incredible crick in her neck to form.
She reached around her shoulder to massage the offending knot but stopped when she heard the angry voices behind the bedroom door.
She shuffled across the cold stone, preparing herself for a convincing performance.
It would have to be of Oscar caliber to convince Callum.
Playing the love-struck fiancée who missed her wayward man.
Definitely a stretch, and there was a reason why she rarely had lines in any of her TV commercials.
She was a terrible actress. An outpouring of affection would probably encourage Geoffrey’s romantic intentions, but that was okay.
If he was willing to risk breaking into a stranger’s house for her, the least she could do was indulge him with a kiss or two on his cheek.
She took a deep breath then slowly turned the doorknob. Across the room, Callum stood over Geoffrey, their faces both red and their bodies rigid. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “I heard voices and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
Geoffrey attempted to make eye contact but fell back on the pillow instead. “I’m sorry Brielle, did we bother you?”
“No, I was waiting for you to wake up.” She eased herself on the bed. “What were you doing sneaking into a stranger’s house? You were lucky he didn’t shoot you.”
“You’re right, darling, I won’t do it ever again. But I was so worried about you.” He reached up and touched her cheek. “I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Callum hadn’t said a word. His expression gave nothing away and she figured that was intentional.
This was a test. One if she planned on passing she would have to lay on the mush as best she could.
She planted a quick kiss on Geoffrey’s lips.
Her gag reflex responded when he did. Just her luck the guy was coherent enough to kiss her back.
She pulled away, resisting the urge to wipe the moistness from her lips. “Geoffrey, did Callum tell you the great news? I’m playing tennis again. Can you believe it?”
“That’s wonderful, darling. What did I tell you? If you concentrate more on your tennis and less on that unfortunate incident, you’ll be glad you did. That’s what Callum and I were talking about.”
She looked at Callum, then back at Geoffrey. “What do you mean?”
“Well, since I’m home now, I thought maybe you would want to release him from his service.”
She pulled her hands from Geoffrey’s grip and slipped off the bed. “You’re kidding me, right? Whose ridiculous idea was that?”
“Darling…”
“Didn’t Callum tell you some guy might have been following me to a bar tonight?”
“Yes but…”
“Callum is trying to catch him. And he has leads, Geoffrey. That’s more than law enforcement has.” She tossed her hands in the air. “Why would you want to fire someone who is trying to help?”
Geoffrey covered his eyes and winced. “Brielle, you’re yelling!”
“Well, I’m surprised you aren’t hearing me then.” Brielle folded her arms against her chest. As a manager, Geoffrey always made decisions without her input, but when it came down to personal issues, she wouldn’t let him have free rein.
“Look boys, here’s the deal. Callum will act as my bodyguard until the need for one no longer exists. Geoffrey, you will be working to make sure I regain my number one ranking. Now, I have an early morning practice that both of you need to be up for. I suggest you get some sleep.”
She stormed out the door and slammed it behind her.
Back on the couch, she yanked a blanket around her.
If she was overreacting, so be it. But having Callum around was wise, even if it was her father’s idea.
And why would Geoffrey want to get rid of Callum in the first place?
If she was Callum’s problem, she wouldn’t be his.
Geoffrey would have more time to do his real job. Plan her comeback.
She closed her eyes and lay her head on the pillow.
“Well, you sure told us in there.”
Brielle’s eyes flew open. “God Callum, you scared me.”
“Likewise,” he smiled and sat down next to her. “I guess it’s true what the papers say. You can be vicious when you want to.”
She looked back at the closed bedroom door. “He go back to sleep?”
“Yeah, he’s pretty out of it. He should be up and about in the morning, though.”
“Good. I want him at least a little alert when he sees me play. If I make a good impression, maybe I can start entering some tournaments.”
Brielle saw the smile on Callum’s face.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “You don’t talk like a giddy fiancée who hasn’t seen her hubby-to-be in weeks. You seem more concerned about business.”
She looked out the window at the lanai. “You don’t think he saw us out there, do you?”
“I’m sure he would have said something if he had.”
They shared a look, but she could read nothing in his. Not even her competitive psychology would give her an insight.
“What?” Callum prompted.
“Well…” she looked at her hands folded tightly in her lap. “I guess I was thinking now that Geoffrey is home, I don’t need to stay here anymore. It’s probably better that way. You know what I mean?”
She waited for a response, but nothing came. Silence collected to an uncomfortable level. Needing to break it somehow, she punched him in the leg.
“Ouch!” He jumped up off the couch, rubbing his thigh. “What the hell did you do that for?”
“You didn’t say anything! Didn’t you hear a word I just said?”
“I was sitting right next to you. Of course I heard you.”
“Well, what do you think?”
“Okay, I agree. Just don’t hit me again.
” He cursed, but she could hear the smile in his whisper.
“Well, I guess I’m going to go sleep in the gazebo.
You can have my bedroom while your boytoy sleeps his booboo off.
You need anything, you let me know, okay?
” He grabbed a throw from the back of the recliner, and headed down the stairs toward the deck.
“Good night, Callum.”
He took two steps, then paused. “Brielle, earlier when I yelled at you…” he pointed toward the foyer.
“It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry. When you said the guy was Geoffrey…”
“I understand, Callum. Really.”
He nodded but didn’t move, his head now turned toward the window. “He’s a lucky guy, sweetheart.”
He didn’t give her time to respond, instead he disappeared out the door.