Hart To Hart (17 page)

They ended up playing four games. She won two of them, though on the last game, she suspected Trent purposefully lost. Maybe he thought a happy prisoner would be easier to deal with.

Even though she wanted to stay up and chat with him, she was unable to stop yawning. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. I’d like to take a shower and hit the hay.”

Trent nodded. “It’s not every day you get shot at.” He dumped the chess pieces back in the velvet bag and stored them in the closet. “I’ll say one thing, Charlotte.”

“What’s that?”

“You are one cool chick.”

Cool, as in he liked her? Or cool in that she hadn’t freaked out after possibly dying? Given that Trent was her bodyguard, she decided he meant the latter. “I guess I take after my dad in that department.”

“Remind me to thank him.” He smiled and her insides gushed. Damn, but he was one good looking man. What a shame, he was only her bodyguard.

Trent said he wanted to read a bit before going to bed. She suspected the real reason was to give her some privacy in the bathroom since they had to share one. He’d already shown her where his dad kept the extra towels, shampoo, and conditioner in case she hadn’t brought any. She debated locking the bathroom door, but she was curious what Trent would do if she didn’t.

After she undressed and stepped into the shower, the reality of what could have happened had she not stumbled backward began to sink in. Sure, she’d overheard her parents talk about Dad getting shot at, but she never really thought about how it might make a person so scared afterward. She shivered just thinking about her father beaten to the point of unconsciousness and then burned. What turmoil had he gone through after almost dying? She couldn’t imagine why anyone would willingly put himself in danger like that.

Dad always claimed it was to keep the country safe. Her respect for him grew, but it also petrified her. What if, after this person was caught, more crazies came after him? Or her? Her father probably had a ton of people who hated what he did.

Stop it.

This wasn’t helping to calm her, and if she didn’t get some sleep, she’d be a basket case by morning. At least she was safe here with Trent, but what would happen when she went back home? Would she be looking over her shoulder all the time? Would she need counseling for almost dying?

Charlotte’s stomach twisted. Dwelling on what happened wouldn’t help her mental state. She washed her hair and scrubbed her body hoping to erase all trace of that terrible man. Not wanting Trent to run out of hot water when he needed it, she shut it off and dried. Crap. Her pajamas were in her room. Hmm.

Wrapping a towel around herself, she checked the hallway, and then tiptoed to her room. Part of her was a little disappointed that Trent had kept his distance. Then again, he was a cop. If her dad had been a bodyguard for anyone, he wouldn’t have seduced the person.

Sometimes nobility sucked.

Once in her bedroom, she put on her pajamas and climbed into bed. She could only hope that sleep came quickly.

*     *     *

Something woke Charlotte
from her restless slumber, but she wasn’t aware of what it was exactly. A door handle rattling perhaps? A dog barking? She didn’t know, but as long as she was awake, she might as well get up and pee. She checked her cell. It was 3:24 a.m. God, but it was early.

Rubbing her arms to ward off the cold, she stepped into the hallway. Light glowed near the kitchen. What was Trent doing up at this hour? She inhaled to see if maybe he was making coffee or heating up some food. It smelled like whatever he was doing was burning. Had he left something on the stove and fallen asleep on the couch?

Charlotte turned toward the kitchen and yawned. “Trent? What are you making?”

No answer.

As she neared the kitchen, only the lights from the stove display glowed. What the hell? As she turned to go back, lights flickered outside the living room window. A car’s headlights? Her heart beat madly. What was going on? Trent had drawn the drapes so she couldn’t see outside. Then came sounds of something scratching and being scraped along the ground.

Okay, that wasn’t good. What should she do? If she screamed, whatever was outside would hear her. Rather than peek her head out from behind the curtains and chance getting blown to smithereens, Charlotte decided to rouse Trent. Her heart pounded as her fogged brain finally woke up. “Trent? Wake up,” she shouted as she raced toward his bedroom.

If this were a false alarm, she’d apologize later. But some shit was happening. His door sat ajar and she barged in. As if she’d entered a time warp, things stood still. His light was on and Trent was in the process on putting on his jeans—commando style. She’d seen men get dressed before, but none that looked as amazing as he did. His cock was hard, probably from being roused out of his sleep, but that only made her stare.

As he finished zipping up his jeans, he turned and faced her. “What’s wrong?”

The words stuck in her throat. “Someone’s here. It smells like fire.”

Trent’s face hardened. He rushed to his dresser drawer and grabbed his weapon. “Stay here.”

She wanted to tell him to put on shoes and a shirt, but he raced on by before she could say anything more. Charlotte was tempted to follow him, but what if that madman was out there? She glanced around to see if there was some place to hide. His bedroom was situated in the back of the house with windows on both the west and north sides. Most likely, they’d be locked. If they weren’t, she wasn’t about to climb out and be captured. The closet door sat open, but it was too small to hide in. Shit.

Noise sounded outside, as if Trent had gone out to investigate. Then the front door banged closed, but she didn’t want to peek out for fear of giving away her location. Damn. She wanted to stay calm, but her pulse was racing and her mouth had turned dry. She pressed her back against the wall and looked around for something to use as a weapon if whoever was outside got by Trent. Other than his suitcase on the floor, there was nothing heavy or sharp to use.

Before she could come up with a strategy, the bedroom door opened. “Someone set the porch on fire, but I used the fire extinguisher to put it out. You okay?”

Okay? How could she be okay when her heart was in her throat? There’d been a fire? The light she’d seen must have been the flames. She inhaled, and could now smell the burning wood.

“Yes. I think so. What happened?” That was a stupid question since he just told her the porch caught fire.

“Someone knows we’re here.”

Charlotte’s legs gave way and she slid down the wall. She choked out a gasp. “How did he find me?”

“I don’t know, but he’ll make a mistake, and I’ll get him. Fuck. Someone sure must be pissed at your dad if they’d go to this extreme.” He pulled out his phone and pressed one button. He paced as the cell rang. “Hey, it’s me. Got a problem.” Trent explained about the front porch fire, and then detailed how all the hedges along the front of the house had caught fire, but that he’d put it out before the flames reached the wooden windows. “I’m at my dad’s place in Seffner.” He turned his back to her. “I’d say about an hour.” Trent gave him the address then disconnected.

“That wasn’t my dad was it?” He’d probably call in the National Guard once he found out.

“No. That was Max Gruden, Rock Hard’s Fire Marshall and arson investigator. How about coming into the kitchen. I need some coffee.” He grabbed hold of the doorknob and held it open.

“How about putting on a shirt first?” She didn’t need the distraction of his amazing body. His face and chest were a bit red, which she figured was from the cold. “And some socks, at least. You must be freezing.”

A small smile lifted his lips. “I hadn’t even noticed. Sorry. Might I suggest the same? No telling who Max will bring.”

She looked down at her flannel pajamas. While her nipples weren’t protruding, she’d feel better dressed. “Good idea.”

*     *     *

Trent tossed on
a sweater and some wool socks before heading to the kitchen to make coffee. He needed something to perk him up, and he bet Max would, too, when this was all done. While Trent was capable of doing the forensic work—checking for tire markings and asking questions, he didn’t want to leave Charlotte. Poor girl was beginning to crack, and an absent bodyguard wouldn’t help her state of mind. He had to hand it to her, though. At least she hadn’t panicked. No telling what would have happened if she’d stepped outside to investigate. Cripes.

As much as he didn’t like rousing his boss at this hour, Trent trusted the RHPD a hell of lot more than he did the older-than-shit Seffner sheriff, who at this moment, might even be sleeping off a hangover in his own cell. Craig Duvall was a great guy, but since this tiny town rarely had crime, he wouldn’t have the manpower or the equipment to do the job right.

Trent called Dan Hartwick. His boss answered on the first ring. “How’s Charlotte?”

Nothing got past that man. “Don’t you sleep?”

“Some.”

“We had an incident tonight.” He explained the situation.

“I’ll send up a few men. I might even show up myself. I’d like to meet Vic’s daughter. She might be the key to all this.”

“Could be, but remember Vic was run off the road. The fact his ex-wife was stalked, makes it look like he’s the real target.”

“Who’s covering the hit and run?”

“Not sure. I’ve been busy with the shooting and now the fire.”

“I’ll check it out. Catch you soon.” He disconnected.

Trent was busy with the coffee when Charlotte came in. Her eyes were red, looking as if she had been crying. His heart ached. He finished putting the grounds in the machine then sat across from her at the kitchen table. “Want to tell me exactly what happened?”

She wet her lips. “Can I have a beer?”

He chuckled. “At four in the morning? Sure. You can have anything you want, sweetheart.” Shit, he hadn’t meant for that endearment to slip out.

Trent jumped up, not wanting her to see the heat racing up his face. If he hadn’t believed he was the best person to watch over Charlotte, he wouldn’t have volunteered. She might be pretty, but it was her attitude that he liked. She was someone who seemed to know what she wanted and had no problem going after it—like being a success in the interior design field and getting her dad back. He grabbed a beer, twisted off the cap, and handed it to her.

She tipped back the bottle and drank. Letting out a deep breath, she set it down. “Okay. I wasn’t sleeping very deeply when I heard a noise.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know. I had to use the bathroom and was in the hall when I noticed light flickering near the kitchen. I went to investigate, thinking you might be in here getting a drink. That’s when I smelled something burning. My addled brain couldn’t put the pieces together. When I neared the living room, lights flashed from the outside and I thought it was headlights.”

“It probably was. Did you see flames?”

“The drapes were closed and I didn’t want anyone to spot me looking out.” She looked up at him, her chin lifted.

“That was smart.”

It would take Dan about an hour to get his crew together, but Max might get here sooner. Regardless, once the men arrived neither of them would get any sleep. “I think I’ll make some scrambled eggs and some of those cinnamon rolls you bought.”

“Yum. I love those.”

Having her keep busy would help prevent a possible breakdown. “You want to work on the rolls while I do the eggs?”

“I can do that.”

To his surprise, Charlotte seemed to find everything with ease. To top it off, she was efficient with her time, setting the oven first before making the rolls. Her clear-headed actions told him she was handling this new situation as well as anyone could.

“Can I ask you something?” She placed the rolls in the oven, set the timer, and came over to the stove.

“Shoot.” He whipped the eggs and added some milk.

“Weren’t you afraid to be outside with an arsonist?”

He hadn’t really given it much thought. “He’s not after me. Besides, I didn’t want the house to burn down.”

“Why set the house on fire in the first place? There’s not much that could burn. Was he hoping to draw you outside then shoot you? With you dead, he could rush in and take me.”

Trent poured the eggs into the hot pan. “Excellent point. If I’m out of the way, he could do what he wished with you.” He kept his voice light, hoping to ease her fears, but it seemed to backfire. He changed his tactics. “Perhaps I need to teach you how to shoot a gun so you can defend yourself.”

She chuckled and the sound delighted him. “What makes you think I can’t shoot a gun?”

She was right. Her dad had been an FBI agent. Vic would understand his job could result in harm to his family. “I wasn’t thinking. You any good?”

She shrugged. “Not really, but I have my concealed weapons permit.”

“That’s a start, but one can never get too much practice.”

“You’re right.”

He stirred the eggs, and when they were done, he dumped them on the plate. Just as he carried them over to the table, the oven timer dinged. The rolls were ready. In companionable silence, they ate a very early breakfast. Trent was more curious about Charlotte than ever before, but it would be best for both of them if he didn’t learn more about her. Keeping his distance was the only way to keep her safe.

She devoured all of her eggs and two cinnamon rolls. Impressive.

“You’re quiet,” she said.

“Been thinking.”

“About what?”

“You.”

Chapter Sixteen