Wanted: Bodyguard Read online

  What was Riley’s favorite color? She had a feeling he’d like his women to wear bold, sexy colors. She nearly slapped herself. What was she doing? It was that kiss. That crazy kiss that had warmed her to her toes.

  Forget it, she told herself. She needed to focus all her thoughts, all her energy on getting through the night.

  She did just that, and forty minutes later everything was ready for the guests to arrive. She watched Haley race around the living room with her usual energy.

  “You’re going to be just fine,” Riley assured her, as if he sensed the tension that screamed inside her.

  “I hope so.”

  “It’s important that you treat Greg like you always do. If he senses something off in you he might get suspicious, and that’s the last thing we want.”

  She nodded, but wondered how it was possible to treat a man like a well-liked neighbor when you knew he might be someone who killed women for sport or pleasure or whatever perverse need drove him.

  She hadn’t seen Greg since Riley had arrived at her house. They rarely saw each other during the week. It was usually on the weekends that they might visit with each other as they each worked in their yards.

  She froze as the doorbell rang. “We’re on,” Riley said, and walked with her to the door to answer it.

  She was relieved when the first guests were two of the couples that had been her friends for several years. They were delighted by the news that Lana had remarried. Riley took them outside and fixed them drinks while Lana and Haley remained inside for the last of the guests to arrive.

  As the doorbell rang once again, Lana peeked out to see Greg standing on the porch. This was what it was all about. This was probably one of the most difficult things she would ever do.

  She drew a deep breath and then opened the door with a smile. “Hey, neighbor,” she said, hoping her smile didn’t feel as forced as it felt.

  “Lana, you look lovely as usual,” Greg said as he stepped into the house.

  Greg Cary was a nice-looking man with pleasant but ordinary features and light-brown hair that he kept neatly trimmed. His best assets were his wide smile and the warmth of his brown eyes.

  “The invitation mentioned a celebration. What are we celebrating?” he asked curiously.

  “My new husband,” she replied, and then forced a laugh at his look of stunned surprise. “I know, it all seems very sudden, but it’s really not. We’ve known each other for six months.”

  Haley walked over to Greg and gave him a happy smile. “Uncle Greg, we’re having a party!”

  “So I’ve heard,” he replied. As he bent down and lifted the little girl into his arms Lana fought the desire to yank her daughter away from him. But that would definitely be odd. Greg had always been very good with Haley.

  “So, that means you have a new stepdaddy,” he said to Haley and then looked back at Lana. “This is certainly a surprise. You know I want to hear all the details,” he said.

  “I’m just waiting for Helen and Bill to arrive. But if you want to meet the man of the hour, he’s in the backyard,” she said.

  “I can’t wait to meet him, although you know I’m a bit hurt that you didn’t tell me about him before now.”

  Was there a new darkness in his eyes or was she just imagining it? “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t tell anyone, not even my sister,” she replied.

  Greg smiled. “I guess that makes me feel a little better. So, what kind of a man is he? What kind of a father is he going to be to this little pumpkin?”

  “I not a punkin,” Haley exclaimed.

  “You know I’d never put her at risk with the wrong kind of man,” Lana replied.

  “I guess I’ll head out back and check out this new man of yours,” he said.

  Lana breathed a sigh of relief as she took Haley back in her arms. As Greg headed for the backyard she fought against a horrible chill that threatened to consume her.

  On the surface Greg Cary appeared to be a friendly man who was well liked by his neighbors. However, there were two things Riley noticed about the man that he found both intriguing and telling.

  First, it was obvious despite the friendly handshake and small talk that Greg didn’t like Riley. Second, Riley noticed that despite his friendliness with his neighbors, there was also something subtly guarded about the man.

  What he’d like to do was befriend Greg, maybe get an invitation into his home. He knew that Lana’s late husband, Joe, had been friendly with Greg.

  Had Joe sensed something off in his neighbor? Was it possible he’d gotten close to Greg not because of friendship but rather because he’d suspected Greg of something?

  Riley and his team suspected Greg of killing four women, but all of those murders had occurred after Joe had been shot in a convenience-store parking lot. Were there other murders that they hadn’t yet tied to Greg? And if that was the case, was it possible Greg was responsible for Lana’s husband’s murder?

  All these questions whirled around in his head as he got to know the neighbors better and listened to them tell him what a paragon of virtue Joe had been, what a terrific husband he’d been to Lana and how delighted they were that she’d found happiness again.

  As much as everyone seemed to like Greg, it was obvious they all positively adored Lana and Haley. And Joe, in death, seemed to have become a bigger-than-life neighborhood hero whom everyone had loved.

  Greg was the first to leave, at just after eight. One by one the couples left as well, until by nine o’clock it was just Lana and Riley and an exhausted Haley left.

  “I’m going to put Haley to bed and then we can talk,” she said as she picked the girl up in her arms.

  Riley wasn’t sure who looked more tired, the toddler or Lana. As they disappeared down the hallway, he reminded himself of just how stressful the night had to have been for Lana.

  When this was all over he’d walk away. He wouldn’t have to face the consequences of their lies with friends or neighbors. He wouldn’t have to pick up the pieces of broken trust with the people he cared about.

  He walked into the guest bedroom and checked the cameras, then stared across the yard to Greg’s house. It looked as if the man had already gone to bed. The house was dark and nothing stirred.

  He wasn’t sure why, but he had a bad feeling about this. There was nothing specific he could put his finger on that had him unduly worried, but it was there nevertheless.

  He left the bedroom and went into the kitchen. Playing pretend husband all evening had created a side effect he hadn’t counted on, a crazy desire for the woman who was pretending to be his wife.

  They’d done a lot of touching over the course of the evening, the kind of affectionate touching that newlyweds did. As he’d visited and joked with the neighbors he’d realized this was a part of married life he’d never thought about before—the sharing with neighbors, the comfortable feeling of looking across a table at the woman you loved. Not that he loved Lana. He hardly even knew her.

  Seeing the dishes that had been stacked on the counter, he began to rinse them and put them in the dishwasher. He’d almost gotten them put away when Lana returned to the kitchen.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said as she sank down into a chair at the table.

  “You wouldn’t have had the mess if I wasn’t here,” he replied. “There’s still some coffee left. You want a cup?”

  “No, thanks. Actually, I’ll take another glass of wine.”

  Riley poured her a glass of red, then got himself a cup of coffee and joined her at the table.

  “I think the evening was a success,” he said. “I think he bought our story.”

  “Good. I hope it was worth my screaming, frazzled nerves,” she replied with a rueful grin.

  He reached across the table and covered one of her hands with his. “I know this is tough, Lana.” He felt the small tremor in her hand and he squeezed it more tightly. “You did fantastic tonight.” He reluctantly released her hand and she picked up h
er glass and took a sip.

  “I want to know the details,” she said.

  “Details about what?”

  “About the murders. The newspaper article I read was fairly vague. I want to know everything that you know.”

  He looked at her in surprise. “Why would you want to know about the details?”

  A frown line raced across her forehead. “Because all evening whenever I looked at him, whenever I talked to him, my head filled with all kinds of horrible visions. I think knowing the truth would be easier than everything I’ve been imagining.”

  He wasn’t sure he agreed with her but decided she had a right to know. For all intents and purposes she was an integral part of the team working to put Greg behind bars. “What exactly is it that you want to know?”

  She took another sip of her wine. “How were they killed?”

  “Beaten and stabbed multiple times.”

  Her eyes darkened. “Where were they killed?”

  “In their homes. Two of the women were dressed in workout clothes, as if they were either getting ready to go to the gym or had perhaps set up an at-home session.”

  “And no forensic evidence was found? The killer didn’t drop some DNA that you could use to catch him?”

  “Unfortunately, nowadays that happens less and less. With all the crime shows on television we’ve educated our criminals very well. They’re smarter, more careful than they used to be.” And Greg Cary seemed to be smarter than most, he thought.

  “Tell me about the victims.”

  He leaned forward. “Lana, why would you want to hear all this? Hearing about the victims won’t help anything.”

  “It will help me,” she protested. “Every time I feel weak doing this job, I want to have a name of a woman to think about, to give me strength to go on.”

  Riley certainly didn’t have to reach for the names of the victims. He’d studied each of the case files with a need that bordered obsession. Every detail of the victims’ lives and deaths were emblazoned in his brain.

  “The first was Melinda Huff, a twenty-seven-year-old woman who was killed in her kitchen at approximately two in the afternoon. Her two-year-old daughter was in a crib in the bedroom, and her body was found by her husband of four months.”

  “He was checked out?” she asked.

  Riley nodded and leaned back in his chair. “As always in these kinds of cases, the first person we look at is the husband. We couldn’t find a motive, and friends and family members told us the marriage had been a happy one. But he remained our main suspect.”

  “Friends and family members don’t always know what goes on behind closed doors,” she said, and for a moment he thought her eyes darkened with secrets of her own.

  “Exactly, but the second murder changed everything. The crime scene was the same. Debbie Warren had been beaten and stabbed and her body was found just inside her front door. Her children were at school and her husband had a solid alibi for the time of the crime. By the time the third murder occurred we knew we had a serial killer on our hands. The only point of intersection in all the women’s lives was that they all worked out at Harry’s Gym.”

  “Where Greg works,” she said flatly. “But surely there are other men at the gym who could be responsible.”

  “Of course, and we’ve investigated all of them and one by one discounted them all, except for Greg.”

  Once again he leaned forward. “I’ve studied serial killers for the last ten plus years. Each and every victim kills a little piece of me. I know in my gut that Greg is responsible. He’s a man who likes power, and working as a trainer in the gym gives him a sense of power. At heart he’s a loner, but he’s managed to keep up a front that is friendly, yet superficial.”

  “What makes you think he has a partner?” she asked.

  “For two of the murders there were indications that two people were present. And for one of the four deaths Greg had an alibi. But we believe we have two men killing together when possible and separately to throw us off. We think Greg is the puppeteer, that he chooses the victims and has somebody killing for him. I really can’t give you the details.”

  “But isn’t that odd?” She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, a gesture he’d come to recognize as a nervous one.

  “It’s unusual, but not unheard of. Leopold and Loeb were two college students who wanted to commit the perfect crime. Angelo Buono and Kenneth Bianchi were cousins who became known as the Hillside Stranglers.”

  “Who do you believe might be Greg’s partner?”

  Riley shrugged. “We don’t know for sure, although we suspect it might possibly be somebody he trains, somebody who is impressionable and can be easily manipulated.”

  “That’s a terrible thought,” she exclaimed.

  “Tell me about your husband,” he said, wanting to change the subject and take her mind off Greg and his victims. “From everything I heard from your neighbors tonight he was a terrific guy.”

  “Everybody loved Joe. He was the life of the party, the go-to guy if you needed help with anything.” She picked up her glass and downed the last of her wine.

  “How long were you married?”

  “We got married when I was twenty-two, and we’d just celebrated our fifth anniversary when he was killed. But we were high school sweethearts and had known each other since grade school.”

  She got up from the table and carried her glass to the sink. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll call it a night.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” He took his coffee cup and added it to her glass in the sink, then took her by the shoulders. “I know how tough this is on you, Lana. I’m sorry we’re having to put you through all this.”

  Her eyes lightened slightly and a small smile curved her lips. “I think you’re a nicer man than I initially thought you were, Riley Kincaid.”

  He laughed. “Thanks, I think.” He sobered as he remembered the kiss they had shared. He wanted to kiss her again. Even though she wasn’t his type, even though he was here to do a job and then would be gone, he couldn’t deny that something about her stirred him on a physical level.

  And he knew he affected her the same way. He could tell by the flare of her eyes, by the way she caught her breath and held it as he rubbed his hands on her shoulders.

  “You know that mistake we made earlier today?” he asked.

  She trembled slightly and her eyes deepened to a purple shade of twilight. “What about it?” There was a breathy quality to her words that torched a new burst of heat through him.

  “I’m thinking about repeating it.”

  “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

  He smiled at her, encouraged that she hadn’t stepped away from him. “Right now I don’t think I care whether it’s a good idea or not.”

  Her tongue darted out and licked her lower lip. He knew it was an unconscious gesture, but it merely heightened the desire that now roared through him.

  “So, what are you going to do about it?”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before she had her answer. He took her mouth with the hunger that had been building inside him all evening and she responded with a hunger of her own.

  Her mouth was hot and eager beneath his and excitement ripped through him as she wound her arms around his neck and pressed more closely against him.

  He tangled his hands in her hair, loving the way the silky strands felt against his skin and the small moan that escaped her. He moved his mouth from hers and kissed across her jaw and down her throat.

  She dropped her head back, allowing him better access to the sweet skin of her throat, and he slid his hands from her hair and down her back to her hips.

  He didn’t understand it, but he wanted this woman more than he could remember wanting a woman in a very long time, and he wasn’t the kind of man who spent time analyzing his own wants and needs. He simply took what he wanted, what he desired.

  Pulling her more tightly against him, he knew she could feel his arousal
, and when she didn’t try to step away from him, he also knew she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

  “I want to make love to you, Lana,” he whispered, and pulled back slightly to watch her response. Her eyes were slightly glazed as she stared up at him.

  At that moment a buzzing resounded from the guest bedroom. Riley instantly dropped his arms from around her as a different kind of adrenaline shot through his veins.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “My camera,” he replied. “It means somebody next door is on the move.” He raced into the bed room and grabbed his gun from the top drawer of the dresser, then headed out the front door, desire replaced by the determination to see what the killer next door might be doing.

  Chapter Five

  Lana stood in the center of the living room, a touch of fear battling with the residual desire that Riley had created in her.

  She stared at the front door and wondered what was going on outside. Was Riley in danger? Was it possible that they hadn’t fooled Greg after all?

  Greg had been in the house alone once during the evening, when he’d come in to use her bathroom. Riley had carefully set the stage for just that occurrence. The cameras had been stored in the closet, his clothes had been hung in her closet, and she’d thought they’d covered all the bases.

  Had they missed something?

  She walked over to the sofa, sank down on the edge and drew a deep breath to steady the rapid beat of her heart. It was an accelerated pulse that had begun the moment Riley had started kissing her.

  She understood now how widows sometimes made bad decisions in new relationships. When the loneliness got too great, when the need to be held or desired grew overwhelming, then they were vulnerable to falling into the arms of the first man who took any kind of an interest in them.

  Even though she didn’t want Greg to hurt any more women, even though she didn’t want Riley to be in danger, she was grateful that the alarm had sounded. Otherwise she might have found herself in bed with Riley.

  Just thinking about it created a rivulet of heat that swept languidly through her. Kissing Riley was a mistake, and making love to him would be the biggest mistake of all.