Chapter 8 Kate
Kate
Peterson waited for them at the cliff-side beach house and, to her boss’s credit, he didn’t say a word about the overnight bag Richard carried inside or the fact that she would be staying with her protectee for the weekend.
“If you’ll give us a moment, I want to get Kate settled in a guest room.” The solicitous and intoxicating need he had to take care of her could prove dangerous. The only way to truly nip it in the bud was to tell him the truth—and that came with another inherent set of problems.
“Actually—” she paused in the living room, “—I’m fine just sitting down for a while and I would like to hear what they have to say too.
” What arrangements had been made while she’d been stuck getting her shoulder stitched?
What had they found out about the shooter?
The car? She’d given a description to the police officers and to Peterson, but the details remained sketchy.
“You should probably get some sleep.” The adorable pit bull returned full force in that statement. Richard was sweet and thoughtful and it needed to stop or he’d wrap her up in cotton and she’d never be able to do her job.
“I’m physically tired, but not mentally.
” Countering that base protective instinct meant appealing to the logical, if ruthless, man beneath.
When she’d said she knew him well, she’d meant it.
Under that warm, extremely civilized exterior lurked a merciless attorney who played to win.
He knew exactly how to leverage his charm to get what he wanted.
She was at his house, wasn’t she? “And you’ll just have to tell me everything he says anyway… ”
A scowl tensed his forehead, then relaxed when she didn’t look away. “All right,” he relented. “Do you want something to eat? We didn’t have dinner.” It was after eleven and they’d spent their entire evening at the hospital, then her apartment.
Shifting her attention to Peterson as she sat on the sofa, Kate murmured, “Pizza?”
His subtle nod assured her the gate security protocols wouldn’t be affected by the request.
Richard sat the bag down by the steps to the upstairs before joining her and pulling out his phone. “Pineapple?”
Surprise rippled through her and she blinked. “Yes.”
“You like fruit,” he reminded her. “Ham and pineapple or just pineapple?”
Torn between embarrassment because Peterson observed the interaction and delight that Richard had indeed noted what she’d said earlier, she shrugged, then winced. The shoulder didn’t like the movement. “Pineapple only would be great.”
Five minutes and three pizzas ordered later—Richard asked for two pineapple and one meat lovers—Peterson spread out some papers on the coffee table.
She recognized the layouts for beach house, office and courthouse.
Shifting forward, she tried to ignore Richard’s thigh brushing against hers.
It violated the twelve-inch rule, but she could hardly point that out with their audience.
Slanting a sideways look at him, she found him grinning at her. Behaving impossibly…and he damn well knows it. His not-so-subtle wink coiled tension in her belly. Security first then deal with Richard in private.
“As you can see, most of your standard locations—this house, your office, and the courthouse—are relatively easy to secure. We’d like to station a man inside the gates here,” he marked a spot on the property.
“He can handle any deliveries, anyone seeking admission, and unless we have a champion rock climber, no one’s coming up the cliff side.
However, I would recommend regular patrol intervals, particularly when you’re going to be outside.
We’ve already done security checks on your neighbors and they’re all clean. ”
“You did this a long time before tonight.” The too cool tone didn’t indicate a receptive attitude. If anything, Richard’s chill screamed disapproval.
“His Highness requested the security checks at regular intervals anytime you had someone new move into the neighborhood.” Peterson had no problem with Richard’s disapproval, and why should he? He didn’t work for Richard and what His Highness requested, the grand duke received.
“Fine.” Richard scratched at his jaw. “I know you have the club secure, or Armand wouldn’t use it.”
“That’s correct. We’ll need to make few alterations there. As for your office, the new security protocols fall directly in line with what we would suggest, however—” Peterson’s gaze switched to her, “—Ms. Braddock’s apartment building is far more difficult to secure.”
Don’t you do it.
Her boss ignored the look she sent him.
“She’s staying here this weekend. We’ll address next week when we get to it.” Richard took the news well. Too well. He actually smiled for the first time since the meeting started.
Son of a bitch. I need to tell Richard. Peterson’s gaze fixed on her and she could almost hear his negative response. They needed to talk, but they couldn’t while Richard hovered so protectively. Yes, his protectiveness served a purpose—she could effectively be glued to his side—but at what cost?
“Very well. We’re going to ask you to share your schedule with us.” As if he didn’t already have it. Very smooth. “We need at least twenty-four hours’ notice of any physical location changes so we can scout them ahead of time.”
“Some meetings are required last minute and I won’t always have twenty-four hours to let you know about them.” A muscle ticked in Richard’s jaw. He really hated this and Kate’s heart squeezed.
Touching a hand to his, she pulled his attention to her. “We have a list of all the centers where you do representation. We can give them that and they can clear them ahead of time for security concerns or whatever it is they’re looking for.”
He turned his hand over and caught hers in an easy grip. “That won’t prevent things like what happened today.”
“Precisely,” Peterson agreed. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you both some questions about today’s events. For example, why did you stop?”
“Richard wanted to pick out flowers for Miss Novak. We were on our way to the tower for supper at the grand duke’s invitation.
” No way would she allow Richard to shoulder the blame.
His mouth tightened and she squeezed his hand in comfort.
“It was an impulse, so we pulled off and went over to check the flower stand.”
“When did you become aware of the threat?” Peterson’s gaze locked on hers and she heard the unasked question. Why didn’t she stop him from getting out of the car?
“When the gun went off,” Richard answered before she could.
“It was pretty crowded and I was watching for your men. I’d noticed the vehicle following us a few times now.
” Cool anger crept into his tone. “I wanted to be sure before I spoke to Armand about it, so I asked Kate to stop. She had no idea beyond the flowers.”
Peterson didn’t buy that as an excuse and neither did Kate. She’d screwed up letting him get out of that car and she’d seen the threat, but too late to prevent the attack. Seemingly letting it go, the security chief nodded. “What can you tell me about the shooter?”
Nowhere near as much as she wanted to be able to say. “White male. Maybe six foot. Dark baseball cap, longish hair, no facial hair.” The scene replayed in her mind. The height comparison she took from the man’s relative position to his vehicle. “Couldn’t get a good physical build.”
“You got a lot.” Richard stroked his thumb along the side of her hand.
“What about the gun? The LAPD is running ballistics, but we may have to wait some time for that report.”
The scene scrolled across her mind’s eye. The car. It’d passed once. She’d noticed it on the second pass. The third time it had pulled up to a stop. The man climbed out. He wore a suit jacket—odd in counterpoint to the hat—but the sun was in her eyes.
“She’s tired,” Richard interrupted before she could answer. “Maybe we can finish this tomorrow.”
“No, I’m fine,” she assured him. “But I can’t be sure of the gun. I see the barrel, I know it was a handgun. Could have been a .45? The pop sounded like a .45, no silencer.”
“And how do you know what a .45 sounds like?” Richard pinned her with a look.
“I’ve fired one.” It was the absolute truth and the answer didn’t mollify him. “But I couldn’t swear to it.”
“That’s fine. Make and model of the car?”
“Dark sedan, some kind of tinted windows because they really reflected the glare. Didn’t see a license plate.” Which amounted to a fat lot of nothing, but she knew every detail added to a bigger picture and when it came to securing a target, the more they knew the better off they were.
“That’s fine. We’re going to see if we can get some footage from the security cameras in the coffee shop. They might have had an angle.” Peterson gathered up his papers. “Any plans to leave the house this weekend?”
“No,” Richard answered. “We’re locking it down for now. I can access most of my files digitally, so we won’t need to go to the office.”
“Excellent.” Extracting two cards from his inner jacket pocket, Peterson handed one to Richard and held the other out to her.
She had to tug her hand from Richard’s to accept it.
“Please put my number in your phones, if you think of anything—no matter how inconsequential, let us know. The LAPD is expediting the case for you, Mr. Prentiss. As you’re aware, they are very fond of you. ”
He nodded and rose, shaking Peterson’s hand once. “I’ll walk you out.” The two men left.
Kate flipped the card over. It had a time on it. She understood the message. Peterson wanted to speak to her alone.
Shifting to slide it into the pocket of her jeans, she reached behind her neck to undo the sling. The damn thing was more annoying than helpful and the ache in her shoulder had turned into a constant burn. They’d given her painkillers, but she hated to feel muddled.