Protector for Hire (24 page)

“You’d better fucking love her,” Mac muttered. “You think we’d be doing all this for someone you merely liked?”

“Buckle your seat belts, everyone,” Stella commanded. “We’re getting ready to land.”

Schwartz followed his mother’s direction, thinking how strange it felt to be taking orders from his mom and bickering with his siblings and flying on Mac’s private jet to see the woman he loved. The tenderness of the family moment nearly took his breath away.

Okay, so they were heavily armed and preparing to confront an international drug lord. It was still a family moment. It was
his
family. For better or worse, Schwartz knew he belonged.

It felt really fucking good.

A knot tightened in his chest as the plane landed and everyone rushed to disembark. Grant was waiting for them, and he wrapped Schwartz in the biggest, warmest bear hug. When he stepped back, Schwartz spotted a beautiful woman standing just behind his brother. She had a blue streak in her hair and eyes that matched Janelle’s.

“You must be Anna,” he said, reaching around Grant to take her hand. “I’m Schwartz.”

“I know,” she said, biting her lip and swiping at her red-rimmed eyes with her free hand. “You’ve been protecting my sister.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“And sleeping with her.”

Schwartz winced, then realized she hadn’t said it with any venom. There was an odd sort of tenderness in her expression, so Schwartz nodded.

“Yes.” He took a breath. “I love her.”

“Good,” Anna said. “I’m glad. Now get out there and find the bastard who wants to hurt her.”

Schwartz stepped back and threw her a salute. Then he touched the pistol in his shoulder holster. “I will,” he said, and went to make it happen.

Chapter Fifteen

Janelle took a step back, then another, until she felt the doorknob jab her in the small of the back. She swallowed hard and stared at her ex-husband.

Well, not at
him,
exactly. At the pistol he was aiming at her.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“Step away from the window,” he said, not answering the question. “We don’t need an audience for this.”

Janelle glanced over her shoulder at the scattered pedestrians hustling past in Portland’s trendy Pearl District
.
The mist was thick and the windows were etched glass. No one seemed to see her. She was all alone.

She looked back at her ex-husband and a wave of nausea hit her. How had she ever loved this man? He was handsome enough, with his dark hair neatly styled and an expensive suit showcasing a toned physique. Once upon a time, she’d found those icy blue eyes enchanting.

But now they just looked cold. Cold and menacing and nothing at all like Schwartz’s warm gray eyes.

“Move it!” Jacques barked, and Janelle jumped away from the door.

“Why?” she asked, taking two steps forward.

“Back here to the storage area. We need to talk.”

“About what?”

Jacques sneered. “Oh, I don’t know—about the last episode of
Survivor
? About rising petroleum prices? How about the fact that you’re not only my wife, but a potential witness who could put me away forever?”

The last words came out as a snarl, and Janelle felt her heart slamming hard against her ribs. “I’m not your wife. We’ve been divorced over a year.”

“Hmm, yes. Pity, that. Of course, here we are in a wedding shop. I’m certain we could find a way to remedy that.”

“You’re insane,” she whispered, wondering how she ever expected to live happily ever after with him. This wasn’t the man she’d married. Not even close. “You weren’t even that nice to me when we were married. Why on earth would we get married again?”

“It’s one way to keep you from testifying if it comes to that.”

“Testifying?” She blinked. “You think if we’re married again, I’ll invoke spousal privilege and can’t be forced to testify against you?”

Jacques shrugged, not looking particularly irked by the accusation. “It’s either that, or I kill you. Honestly, it doesn’t make that much difference to me, except that your demise might raise more suspicions.”

Janelle shook her head, letting her gaze slip to the side. Was there anything here she could use as a weapon? A set of satin ballet flats in the window display, maybe the broom in the corner left over from the witch-themed wedding Anna had done last October.

“Jacques, I don’t think that’s even how the law works,” she said. “Have you researched this with an attorney, or have you been watching
Law & Order
again?”

“I’m tired of this conversation,” he snapped. “Move!”

He waved the gun at her, then grabbed her arm with enough force to make her teeth clack together. She stumbled as he dragged her toward the back of the shop to the space where Anna stored a random hodgepodge of bridal accoutrements. A fresh wave of fear rushed through her as she glanced back over her shoulder at the window. No one noticed anything. Would he shoot her if she screamed?

Jacques gave her a shove, and she bumped her shoulder against a display of fake cupcakes adorned with orange and black frosting and little plastic beavers. Anna must have done an Oregon State University wedding, Janelle thought lamely as the cupcakes toppled and bounced and went rolling around the room. She thought about trying to hit Jacques with one, but that probably wouldn’t do enough damage. He’d just get angrier.

“Dammit,” Jacques snarled, pushing her toward the storage area. “Stand right there. I need you to hear me out.”

You need me to be hidden so no one will come rushing in if you decide to shoot me,
Janelle thought, but she refrained from saying it out loud. Maybe she could still convince him not to kill her. Maybe she could appeal to his sensitive side. Maybe she could make him believe she’d actually marry him. Maybe—

Wham!

Maybe Jacques would get hit in the head with a bronze platypus?

Janelle blinked, trying to digest what was happening. Her ex-husband dropped to his knees in front of her, looking dazed and a little drunk as the pistol fell from his hand and the bronze statue clattered to the ground beside him. She stared at the platypus, thinking absurdly of the couple whose Australia-themed wedding Anna had planned a month ago and the likelihood they would have guessed their gift would be used to take out an international drug lord.

She looked up to see Schwartz standing in the doorway looking huge and fierce. He had a pistol in one hand, a knife on his belt, and a veritable army behind him.

An army that looked a lot like him.

“Grant?” Janelle blinked. “Mac? Sam? Mrs. Patton?” Janelle blinked again, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“I’ve told you before, dear—it’s Stella.” Schwartz’s mother gestured with a pistol that looked terrifyingly large in her small hands. “My son insisted we not shoot unless we had to, since he didn’t want you caught in the cross fire. Apparently, he’s quite fond of you.” She glowered at Jacques, who was rubbing the back of his head. Then she looked at Schwartz. “Nice throw, sweetheart. The platypus was a good choice.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

Janelle watched a faint smile touch the edges of Stella’s mouth. She looked at Schwartz, who wasn’t smiling at all. He was glaring at the pistol on the floor next to Jacques’s knee. It was still within reach, and Janelle knew it would only take a split second for him to grab it again. Would he risk it with this many guns trained on him?

Janelle bit her lip, then slid a toe out and kicked the gun toward Schwartz. She braced herself as it spun across the floor, half expecting the damn thing to go off. When it didn’t, she breathed a sigh of relief.

She was still exhaling when she felt Jacques’s hand clamp down around her ankle. He gave a hard yank, pulling her off her feet and onto the ground. The next thing she knew, he was pinning her to the floor and holding a knife to her throat.

“You may have all the firepower,” Jacques growled, looking from one Patton to the next. “But I have the thing that seems to matter to you.”

Janelle watched Schwartz’s eyes narrow, felt the cold steel of Jacques’s blade where it touched her throat. She resisted the urge to whimper, not wanting to make anything worse. Her ex-husband was breathing hard, and the smell of his sweat made her stomach roil.

She looked at Schwartz, watching his finger twitch on the trigger of the pistol. He seemed to hesitate. Then he reached out and set the pistol on the counter, holding his hands up in apparent surrender.

Janelle felt her heart sink as tears sprang to her eyes. Behind Schwartz, the rest of the Patton family looked at one another. One by one, they began to set their weapons down.

Schwartz cleared his throat. “Rule number one,” he said in a voice so low, it was practically a growl. “Don’t ever, ever objectify a woman by referring to her as a
thing
.”

The blast was swift and loud and so unexpected, Janelle screamed. She closed her eyes as something splattered across her face. She knew it was probably blood, and she hoped like hell it wasn’t hers.

“Rule number two,” Schwartz said, and Janelle opened her eyes to see him holding another pistol. “Don’t ever make the mistake of assuming a man would bring only one gun to rescue the woman he loves.”

Janelle blinked, still too stunned to process what had just happened. How had he moved so quickly? And where had the other gun come from?

But more importantly— “Loves?” she breathed.

“Son of a bitch,” Jacques wheezed, and Janelle glanced over to see him clutching his elbow. The knife was no longer in his hand, which could be because his hand was only partly attached to his arm. Odd how anatomy worked.

Janelle gasped and struggled out from under her ex’s half-prone body. She expected him to let her go, to recognize he was outgunned and overpowered. Instead, he grabbed her hair with his uninjured hand, slamming her head to the floor before letting go of her to reach for the knife.

This time, she expected the gunshot.

She didn’t expect Stella Patton to be the one firing.

“Rule number three,” Stella said, stepping forward to stand beside her son. “Don’t mess with family.”

Jacques fell back, the hole in his chest making it pretty clear he wasn’t getting up anytime soon. Janelle gasped, watching in horror as Jacques clutched his chest, then went motionless.

She turned back to look at Schwartz. He turned to look at his mother. “Nice shot, Mom.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

The front door banged open, and Sheri rushed in, hurrying to her husband’s side. Sam lowered his gun and put his arm around his wife, kissing the top of her head.

“Everything’s okay,” Sam assured her. “See? You didn’t even need the maternity Kevlar.”

“No one’s hurt?” Sheri asked.

Mac shrugged, looking down at Jacques. “No one of any consequence.”

“That was some real teamwork, kids,” Stella said proudly, re-holstering her gun. “Anyone want to grab brunch?”

“You know, there are some families that bond over things like baseball or chess,” Sheri said, looking from her husband to Schwartz to Stella to Mac. “Not that there’s anything wrong with taking out bad guys as a means of bringing the family closer together.”

“Can we come in yet?” Kelli called from the doorway, and Janelle looked up to see her holding Sherman’s leash in one hand and Anna’s arm in the other. Her sister’s face was pale and terrified, and she went a few shades paler when she saw Jacques on the floor.

“Is he—”

“Yeah,” Janelle said. “I think so. It was him or me.”

“Wise choice,” Anna said, nodding at Schwartz. “Thank you.”

“It was a team effort,” he said. “So maybe this should be, too.”

He dropped to one knee in front of Janelle, and she gave a gasp of surprise. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little silver ring she recognized as the piece that held Sherman’s tags to his collar. Her brain was reeling, and even on his knees, Schwartz was still towering over her from where she sat on the cold tile floor.

“Janelle, I love you,” he began, and she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. “I know I’m an antisocial jerk and a curmudgeon—”

“And a social recluse,” Grant supplied.

“And a grouch,” Sheri added.

“And stubborn as hell,” Mac threw in.

“But I’m also fiercely loyal,” Schwartz continued, shooting an annoyed look over his shoulder at his siblings. “And I want the chance to show you that I can also be kind and loving and—”

“Sweet,” Sheri added.

“Generous,” Grant said.

“Strong,” Mac supplied.

“Clever,” Stella said, resting a hand on her son’s shoulder. “And thoughtful and smart with a heart that’s as big as his—”

“Hell, yeah,” Kelli said, grinning wickedly. “Runs in the family.”

“—I was going to say as big as his
body
,” Stella finished, smiling at her daughter-in-law before turning back to Janelle. “I love all my children, sweetheart, but you’re getting the most challenging one in the bunch. If you’ll have him, of course.”

Schwartz cleared his throat. “Do you guys mind if I finish up this proposal by myself?” He turned back to Janelle and took her hand. “Janelle Rebecca Spunky Dewdrop Keebler—will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” He frowned down at the dog tag holder in his hand. “I didn’t have a chance to get a real ring yet.”

“Understandable,” she said, smiling as she held her finger out so he could slip the thin metal loop around it. “What with planning a gun battle to take out a ruthless drug lord, I’m surprised you didn’t have time to pop by Shane Company to browse their selection of diamonds.”

She grinned and leaned forward, close enough now that her lips almost touched his. “I would be happy to marry you, Schwarzkopf Alexander Patton. I accept. And I love you, too.”

He kissed her then, and everything seemed to fall away. His family, the knife on the floor, the smell of gunpowder in the air, the corpse of her ex-husband, the wail of sirens in the distance.

“Uh, not to ruin this tender moment,” Anna said from the doorway as Janelle broke the kiss. “But should we be worried about the police showing up?”