Christmas Guardian. Delores Fossen
the years, he’d killed three people. All in the line of duty, of course. But that still gave him a dangerous edge that she would be a fool to dismiss.
Kinley hated to think of him as her last resort, but she had exhausted her list of persons of interest. She’d exhausted her bank account. And herself. She wouldn’t give up if she failed tonight—she would never give up—but she literally had no idea where to go next.
Beside her, her “date,” Cody Guillory, took her coat, then her arm and led her not in Jordan’s direction but toward a tall blond-haired man by the ten-foot-long table filled from corner to corner with party food.
“Anna,” Cody said using the alias she’d given him, “this is Burke Dennison.” Cody checked his watch. “In about three hours, he’ll be my new boss.”
Burke flashed a thousand-watt smile. With that sun-blond hair, blue eyes and tan, he looked every bit the golden boy he was. At thirty-one he was a self-made millionaire and about to take the reins of one of the most successful security agencies in the state.
Burke used his champagne glass to make a sweeping motion around the reception area at Sentron headquarters. “I bought the place,” Burke let her know. “Isn’t that a hoot? I’m a ranch hand’s son from Dime Box, Texas, for Christ’s sake. Who would have thought it?”
Jordan Taylor obviously had, since he was the present owner and about to relinquish control a mere three days before Christmas.
Kinley wanted to know why.
For fourteen months, she’d examined the lives of more than a hundred people and had looked for any changes in their lifestyles. This was a major change for Jordan. But the question was, did it have anything to do with Shelly’s murder?
“Well, if I’d had the cash, I certainly would have bought the place,” Cody remarked. He, too, looked around. Almost lovingly. “My life is here.” He shrugged, then smiled. “And usually my body. Burke, don’t you expect me to give you eighty hours a week the way I gave Jordan.”
Both men laughed, but she didn’t think it was her imagination that there was some tension beneath. Maybe Cody wasn’t thrilled with gaining a new owner, or losing the old one.
When a tuxed waiter moved closer, Cody snagged two fluted glasses of champagne and handed her one so they could toast Burke. Kinley thanked him and pretended to have a sip while she pretended to be interested in the conversation Burke started about some changes he wanted to make.
She’d gotten good at pretending.
In fact, everything about her was a facade, starting with the red party dress she’d bought from a secondhand store. The symbolic necklace that she wore twenty-four/seven. Her dyed-blond hair. Her name. She was using the alias Anna Carlyle tonight, but she had three other IDs in her apartment. She’d lived a lie for so long. Too long.
“Excuse me a moment,” Kinley said to Cody and Burke.
She stepped away and tried to be subtle. She mingled, introducing herself. She even sampled a spicy baconwrapped shrimp from the table, all the while making her way to Jordan.
There was an auburn-haired woman talking with him, but as if he’d known all along that Kinley was coming his way, he slid his gaze in her direction. He whispered something to the redhead and she stepped away, but not before giving Kinley a bit of the evil eye. Probably because she thought Kinley was her romantic competition. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Nice party,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Anna Carlyle.”
He kept his attention fastened to her face. Studying her with those intense brown eyes that were as dark and rich as espresso.
This was the first time she’d seen him up close, the first time she’d gotten a good look at him, and sadly, Kinley realized she wasn’t immune to a hot guy. Funny, after what she’d been through she was surprised to feel any emotions other than grief and fear, but Jordan Taylor had an old-fashioned way of reminding her that beneath the facade, she was still a woman.
Simply put, he was the most physically attractive man she’d ever met.
He wasn’t slick and golden like his Sentron successor, Burke. Jordan had a sinister edge that extended from his classically chiseled face to the casual way he wore his tux. The tie was loose. His left hand was crammed in his pocket. The other held not a glass of champagne but whiskey straight up.
It smelled as expensive and high-end as he did.
His hair was loose, a bit long, brushing against the bottom of his collar. It was also fashionably unstyled, as if he didn’t have to spend much time to make it look as if he could have been posing on the cover of some rock magazine.
“Anna Carlyle, huh?” he asked. And it was definitely a question.
That pulled her from her female fantasy induced by his good looks and smell. “Yes. Cody was kind enough to invite me to the party. And you’re…?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. Not a smile of humor though. It made Kinley want to take a step back. She didn’t. She held her ground.
“Jordan Taylor,” he finally said. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
She was in the process of bringing the champagne glass to her mouth for a fake sip, but Kinley froze. Nearly panicked. Then he tamped down the fear that she was about to be exposed. She didn’t mind being revealed as a liar, but exposure could be deadly.
“Yes, I did know you were Jordan Taylor,” she admitted. “You’re the host of this party. I must have seen your picture in the paper or something.”
He eased his hand from his pocket. In his palm was a slim platinum-colored PDA. He held up the tiny screen for her to see.
She saw a picture of herself.
Specifically, a picture of her in the coffee shop across the street. Her worried eyes were fixed on the Sentron building. He flicked a button, and another photo appeared. Also of her. This time she was parked in a car on the street just up from his San Antonio estate.
Oh, God.
Kinley glanced over her shoulder, looking for the quickest way out. There wasn’t one. To get to the doors, she’d have to make her way through at least three dozen people, including twenty or so security specialists who among other things were trained to apprehend suspects. But Jordan likely wouldn’t even let her get that far, because he was the most qualified security specialist in the room and was only a few inches from her.
She couldn’t read his expression. He didn’t seem angry. Or even curious. He just stood there, calmly, while he apparently waited for her to make the next move.
“I was thinking about hiring a bodyguard,” she lied. “I wanted to check out Sentron first.”
He made a hmm sound, slipped the PDA into his pocket, set both their drinks aside and grabbed her arm. “Let’s take a walk, have a little chat.”
Once again she held her ground. Fear shot through her, but Kinley couldn’t go with him. She had to get out of there. “I should get back to my date. Cody will be wondering where I am.”
“No, he won’t.”
Because Jordan said it so confidently, Kinley glanced over her shoulder again. Cody and Jordan exchanged a subtle glance, and Jordan’s grip tightened on her arm.
“When I realized you were following me, I sent Cody to the coffee shop. His orders were to strike up a conversation with you and then to invite you to tonight’s party—an invitation I figured you’d jump at.” He paused, met her gaze. “Cody’s very good at his job, isn’t he?”
He was. Kinley hadn’t suspected a thing. Maybe because she’d been so excited about the possibility of learning the truth of what’d happened fourteen months ago?
“I’m leaving,” Kinley insisted.
“Yes.