Bulletproof Princess (12 page)

“You’re scaring me, Mack,” she murmured, like the quiet of the desert might be disturbed if she spoke louder.

He didn’t like hearing his nickname on her lips, a distinct abnormality. “I don’t mean to, Cass, really, but this is important, and I shouldn’t have kept this information to myself.”

She narrowed her eyes and raked her hair back from her face with both hands, appearing both confused and agitated. “Is there an apology in there somewhere?”

Feeling the anxiety spike in his blood, he bit down on the urge to start the conversation with a litany of his justifications for his actions, or lack thereof in this case. “Yeah, definitely, in a minute. We need to talk about Clint.”

Her expression shuttered and she was instantly wary. “What about him?”

Mack reached out to take her hands, giving in to the other urge he should have ignored. “He had a problem, Cass, a big one.”

She snatched her hands back and stood, her voice rising as she paced. “I told you he did. I knew about his struggle to keep his gambling addiction under control. He was doing okay, he promised me.” Cassie walked to where the concrete ended and the desert began and stared at the edge like it was a precipice over an endless abyss.

He rose and came over to stand behind her, but not touching. As much as she wanted to physically remove herself from the situation, and he didn’t blame her at all, they needed to have this out in the open between them. “He
had
it under control. Ange found evidence that he started back up again a couple years ago.”

Cassie whirled on him with fire in her eyes and venom in her voice as she spat, “You’re lying.”

Mack didn’t step back or flinch from her wrath. “I’m not. He tried to stay afloat as best he could on his own, but he owed money to a lot of people. A lot of dangerous people.”

He watched her rein in her temper hard, chest heaving and cheeks streaked pink at the far edge of the floodlights. “What are you saying, Mackenzie?” she demanded slowly, deliberately, with only the barest hint of a tremor.

The scant distance between them seemed like a canyon as Mack chose his words as carefully as he could. “He had some trouble covering his debts, and was borrowing from you. Not enough to break even, but enough to buy some breathing room and to not show up on your radar.”

Her mouth dropped open and her hand went to her neck. “He was
stealing
from me?” Her struggle to catch her breath worried him, and he escorted her to a lounge chair on the far side of the pool. She immediately sank down onto the cushions and held her head in her hands as she gasped for air.

It was hard for him to sit next to her and not touch her, but he didn’t think she’d want that from him right now. “It appears that way. I’m so sorry, Cass.” He didn’t have the words to express the abject regret he was feeling at breaking her heart all over again.

“He…” she sniffled, “he could have asked me! I would have given him anything, after what he did for me!” Cassie sat up and swallowed hard. “It was the least I could do.”

The tear streaks down her face were almost too much, and he reached out and rubbed her back in an attempt to comfort her. “I don’t doubt you would have, but I need to tell you the rest.”

“There’s
more
?” she all but wailed. Her voice silenced the coyotes in the distance and brought the thriving sounds of nocturnal desert life to a standstill.

“The people he owed are dangerous, and,” he hesitated as he pondered if he should underscore that with an example, but decided against it given her firsthand knowledge. “And they don’t appreciate a running tab that was only growing. I think the concert was a setup.”

Cassie reared back and turned to face him. “What kind of setup?”

Mack took his hand back and laced his fingers together between his knees. “I haven’t quite worked that part out yet, but my first two thoughts are that the concert was a way of paying down his debt to Salazar.” His second thought made more sense, but he really didn’t like the implications of it.

“And the second?” she whispered.

“That Salazar wanted the concert and set it up as a way to get his guy and Clint in the same location to facilitate the hit.” He hung his head and stared at the ground between his feet, not daring to look at her. Either way, she was a pawn in a game, the object of which was the death of her friend and her life overturned. She whimpered, but didn’t reply. “The problem with both of those is you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked on a watery breath.

Steeling himself for the coup de grace to her emotional stability, he flexed his jaw and stretched out his fingers before lacing them again. “You being in that hallway, seeing the murder and who did it, being able to place him at the party with Salazar, talking to him, makes you a high value target.” The kind that should have gone into WITSEC immediately under other circumstances, he left off, though she was probably thinking the same.

His job just became more complicated, he realized, and not only because of his growing feelings for her. He knew the situation was bad, very bad, but piecing together the puzzle gave the situation a depth that was breathtaking in scope. He was sitting next to the lynchpin of at least a dozen open federal cases, and she didn’t even know it. That was Grambling’s connection, he was sure. Making a name for himself on the back of an unwitting witness, it was definitely a promotion-worthy situation. Rat bastard.

There was also her presence here, at his parents’ home. Conchita would never sell Cassie out, for love or money, he knew that like he knew he was a ginger to the bone, no pun intended given the circumstances. But they inadvertently endangered her just by showing up on her welcoming doorstep, and he would be damned if he let anything happen to her.

“What do we do now?”

The question of the century, he supposed. The one thing that didn’t change, though, was his resolve. Against his better judgment—which had been silent now for quite some time—he stretched an arm across her shoulder and secured her against his side. She wrapped around him like a drowning woman on a buoy at sea. “I promise you that I will keep you safe. No one, and I mean not even Jesus himself, is going to get to you.” He curled a finger under her chin to raise her glittering gaze to meet his own. “You are safe with me, I swear to you on everything I am. You will be fine, we will get through this, and nothing is going to happen to you. Understand?”

Cassie nodded, though her lips still trembled. Her shattered expression wrecked him, and he did what he knew to be simultaneously the best and worst thing he could do in this situation. He leaned down, slowly closing the brief gap between them, and pressed his lips to hers. The salty taste of her tears on her lips infused the kiss with an urgency he wasn’t prepared for. His intention had been to keep it light, just to comfort her, but her shuddery sigh when he pulled back and her hand on his face drenched him in concurrent waves of lust and protectiveness that he couldn’t ignore.

Pulling her into his lap, he cuddled her closer with his hand winding through the soft gold strands of her hair and cradling her skull. Her hands on his face, the little sighs as she pulled back and stared into his eyes, hell, just having her this close was making him nuts, and he knew he had to end it soon if for no other reason than he didn’t want to get caught having hot, passionate sex with his witness by his
mamita
. And he would, but after just…one…more…kiss.

Karma, accompanied by his better sense, intervened as his cell phone rang in his pocket. Cassie jumped, since it was under her ass, and they both giggled nervously at the sound of Ange’s ringtone. She scrambled off his lap and to her feet as he struggled to answer before it went to voicemail. Ange missed absolutely nothing and he didn’t want to give her any ammo.

“Hey, Ange. What’s up?”

How Mack shifted gears so easily, she’d never know. Cassie’s brain had dropped its transmission and abandoned all its inhibitions two kisses ago. One minute her world was leveled and everything she knew to be true was no longer, and then next she’s in his arms with his mouth on hers. It was as glorious as she’d suspected it would be, and her lips still tingled with the feel of him.

Realistically, she was reeling in the wake of several successive emotional tsunamis, and her mind refused to engage fully. Her heart, however, lay strewn about the place, each emotion seceding from the union to become a shattered former whole. Crushed that Clint lied to her, angry that Mack had kept it from her, elated she finally knew how his lips tasted, and the spiral spun out from there. Betrayal, indignation, arousal warred for her attention and drove her to her feet to pace as she tried to separate them individually.

She was so lost in thought that she missed Mack ending his phone conversation and coming to stand beside her, jumping when he touched her arm. “Son of a—! You scared the life right out of me!” Given her already edgy state, she couldn’t guarantee what her reaction would be. Punching him in the mouth and kissing him again where topping the list in equal measure.

He had the grace to look chagrinned as he took a healthy step back from her. “Sorry, I’d called your name a couple times, but you obviously didn’t hear me.”

She shrugged and scuffed her feet against the concrete.

“Are you okay?”

That’s a damn good question, actually, with no definitive answer she could find. She felt…outside of herself, almost. She could identify most of the feelings, but how they related to her and each other didn’t make sense to her. “Can I get back to you on that?”

Mack nodded quickly. “Oh, yeah, of course. Yeah.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets and rocked back on his heels. She couldn’t miss the fact that he wouldn’t make eye contact or even move closer to her. “I um…” he trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip in a way she found very endearing. He held up a finger as he tried again, “About before, I didn’t mean, that is, I
meant
to, but I didn’t think it would be so, so…and this is so not a—”

She held up a hand to stave off his floundering. More than anything, she didn’t want to hear him take back what had just happened between them. Given all she’d lost tonight, she just couldn’t take it. “Please don’t.” The tears from earlier threatened to resurface with reinforcements, and rather than show him yet another round of humiliating hysterics, she strode past him to the French doors that led into the house. “Just don’t.”

She didn’t know if he followed her or why, only that she had to be someplace quiet, alone, where she could cry on solitude’s—and Betsy’s—shoulders.

Mack called down the hallway after her, “The timing—”

“Is everything,” she finished for him as she closed the door to the conservatory. She didn’t need to know what else he had to say tonight. Her heart was done listening.

* * *

Daviess barreled into his office tapping on a tablet like he’d snorted three lines of coke. Grambling thought about yelling at him, but looking him over, he decided his ridiculous tie was enough punishment for one day.

“I don’t remember instituting a ‘no knock’ policy for anything other than warrants,” he sneered as he sat back in his chair and set down his pen.

Daviess looked at him like he’d only now realized he was there and shrugged. “Sorry. You wanted updates, I’m here.”

He pulled on his sleeves and checked out the shine on his cufflinks before returning his attention to the man in front of him. “Well, since you clearly don’t stand on ceremony…” He motioned for the young man to get on with it.

Daviess frowned and futzed with his inordinately loud tie. “Philbert Mackenzie Jefferson,” he drew out the first name like he was licking a stamp, “is disturbingly normal, despite the unfortunate first name. Hell, I’d go by Mack, too, if it was that bad. Youngest of three from a family whose money came from real estate and time shares. Played football at a public high school in Phoenix, full ride to Auburn to play football, degree in mathematics. What the hell is he doing in the Marshal Service? He has more money than God, a few times over.”

Grambling hummed and opened his lid to sip his latte directly from the cup. “Some people have a desire to serve their society. Isn’t that why you’re here?” he asked with a grin. He knew damn well why Daviess was here, on a semi-secret Federal diversion program for some low-level hacking. The kid had promise and a stratospheric IQ, so Grambling felt like he was more a peer than simply an employee.

The younger man pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes momentarily before ignoring the question entirely. “Something about this guy is really hinky.”

Austin snorted. “‘Hinky?’ Is that a technical term?”

He answered with a raise of his shoulder and continued, “Yeah, kinda. I mean, he’s unbelievably normal. Pathologically so. One marriage, one divorce, no kids, no animals, a gym membership, a paid off truck. He was a cop in Phoenix before he came here. Did you know he was a SWAT sniper?” Grambling nodded once, so he picked it back up. “There was an officer-involved shooting, but the details are super sketchy. I can keep digging if you’d like.”

The offer was kind, but immaterial to the problem at hand, so Austin shook his head. Daviess nodded and checked something off on the touch screen. “Right. So, it wasn’t long after that he jumped from local to Fed. There is nothing that would indicate where he would go in trouble, or why he would choose to go rogue with a witness. Especially one as famous as Cassie Witt. I mean, how is she staying off the radar with him? I’m thinking he’s got a safe house and a massive stash of cash, but no one has even seen her since the disappearance, and believe me when I tell you I have checked every rehab facility in the known world.”

Austin smiled. This was why he requested the kid personally. Thoroughness was a beautiful thing. “I never doubted.”

“I’m just curious as to why no one has questioned it at this point. Why isn’t anyone looking for her?”

Austin rose from his desk and smoothed the wrinkles out of his pants before coming around the desk to lean against it across from Daviess. “I’m sure they already are. At this point, though, the quiet serves our purpose. We can fix this before it blossoms into a scandal. It’s better that we find them and end this peacefully before we alert anyone else to our plans.” He just wasn’t fully ready to reveal his plan to his…he supposed ‘minion’ was the correct word, until his loyalty was assured. In the meantime, he could spin it however he wanted.

The young man whose garish tie was in violent conflict with his plaid shirt gave him a sunny smile. “Whatever works for you, Chief.”

“That’s a good job, Daviess.” Grambling smiled as he dismissed him to return to his searching. As soon as he cleared the door, Austin closed it behind him and fished his cell phone from his pocket as it vibrated. It was a weird number, out of Minnesota, and while his temptation was to let it go to voicemail, his gut told him to answer. “Speak.”

“It’s good to know your manners haven’t improved with your paygrade,
primo
,” a laughing voice responded.

He couldn’t help the grin. “Hey, Churras, how’s it hangin’?”
It was a childhood nickname that never failed to rile up his cousin. He was in town so rarely, Austin had to give him a little bit of hell.

The man he viewed as closer than a brother snarled into the phone, a sound that would have terrified anyone else, but only made him laugh. His Spanish was rapid and precise. “Hey, dickhead, I’m Chuy. Chuy, or Jesus if you can’t help yourself, but Churras is not gonna work. We’re not kids anymore.”

That much was true, and given the reason for his cousin’s very timely appearance in town, he appreciated the sentiment. “Sorry, just had to bust your balls a bit. New phone, I see.”

“New job,” the other man replied smoothly.

“Good for you.” Made sense he’d put an extra layer of anonymity between him and his targets. It was as much for Austin’s protection as for his own. “And how goes your new business venture?”

He could hear the smile in his cousin’s voice when he answered the subtext of the not-quite-innocuous question. “I got this, cuz. It’s well in hand. The mice will never even see the cat coming.”

Finally, someone who he could count on without reservation. His dear cousin Chuy had earned his reputation the hard way and completely deserved its legendary status. If he said he had it, then all Grambling had to do was wait for the chips to fall. “Excellent. So how’s your momma doin’?”

* * *

Mack’s eyes felt like they were weighed down with bricks. Regardless of the sunlight beating down on his face through the opened curtains, he had no intention of acknowledging it in any way other than throwing an arm over his face to shield his eyes. The events of the previous night came to him in waves as his brain rose to consciousness despite his desire for continued sleep.

The kiss was foremost on his mind. The way she tasted, smelled, the feel of her soft lips against his, how much he liked her in his arms…everything came rushing back to him at once in vivid high definition. It was everything he’d hoped for and absolutely nothing he needed right at that moment. He knew better, and the consequences of that kind of witness interaction were dire both emotionally and in terms of the job. Getting emotionally involved with a witness, and he had no delusions he wasn’t emotionally involved now, compromised his ability to keep her safe. It was a potentially lethal distraction they could ill afford, as tempting a distraction as she was.

Cassie Witt scrambled his brain. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it, but when he was so close to her, his higher functions shut down and things like coherent speech fled him. The ability to draw a gun after something like that? He shuddered to think. As it was, he had to make up for completely flubbing their conversation after he got off the phone with his partner. Mack had used up all his cogent brain cells talking to Ange and not letting on that his world had been remodeled in the previous few minutes, a daunting task under ideal circumstances.

Instead of saying all the right words, though, he managed to butcher the fragile bond they’d forged and sent her into the night crying. He didn’t even know if she’d made it up to bed, though he knew they were isolated enough that he wasn’t concerned for her safety, just her well-being. The demands of nature precluded any further ramblings, and he slowly rolled out of bed and trudged to the bathroom door to knock. Hearing nothing, he walked inside, just in time for the door to fly open on the other side of the bathroom.

Cassie breezed in wrapped in only a plush burgundy towel and her bare feet, coming to a screeching halt as soon as she spotted him.

Her sapphire blues went wide, and her hand clutched the towel out of reflex. “Hey!”

“Hey!” he said at the same time, equally shocked. Seeing her so close to naked he wouldn’t even have to work for it stalled the air in his lungs and ground all other thoughts to a standstill. She, in turn, made no secret of her perusal of him, and his body, already in its early morning state, responded accordingly.

Cassie raised an eyebrow as he casually crossed his hands in front him to camouflage his growing problem. A hand up as she backed out of the room, she offered, “Why don’t you go ahead and take it?”

Actually, leaving—soon—became imperative to him, so he declined, “Nah, I’m good. It’s not like this house doesn’t have eleven other bathrooms. Enjoy your shower.” Mack backed out of the room and slammed the door before she could respond. Her muffled giggles followed him out of his room and across the hall to a different bathroom.

Jesus, as if his life could get any more complicated. And in his parents’ house, no less! He swore the place bred mayhem and chaos in his life, even if he wasn’t exactly displeased with the type of conflict he had right now. He dressed in jeans and his favorite boots as he worked out in his mind ways to stay close enough to her to keep her safe without having to actually touch her. Or see her semi-naked and sun-kissed.

It took him a moment to realize what he was hunting for as he looked around his room, and he dropped his head back in frustration when it came to him. His hurry to get them out of the house and out of Phoenix came at a cost, and his cowboy hat was left, where it always was when not on his head, by the front door. “Hell.” He could only hope there was a baseball cap in the attic above the garages in one of his boxes of stuff.