High-Risk Investigation. Jane M. Choate
to see it as determination, the same determination that had fueled her ambition to expose the dark secrets of the city since the night she’d lost her parents.
The aftereffects of the nightmare dogged her throughout the day, following her around like a shadow. Much as she tried to shake the feelings, they clung to her like a burr.
After prayer, work was her antidote against the pain.
When her cell phone chirped, she glanced at the number, saw it was blocked. More than once she’d received blocked calls which had ended up giving her valuable information. She picked it up, heard a mechanically altered voice.
“If you want to get the goods on Crane, be at the docks at three fifteen.” The voice went on to give directions as to where she should stand if she wanted to see Crane taking a bribe.
Common sense told her to ignore the tip, which could be a setup, but she couldn’t. She wished she had someone who’d go with her, and her thoughts took her back to Nicco Santonni.
Unwillingly, she acknowledged that he had stirred something in her, an attraction she hadn’t felt in too long, not since her fiancé, a reporter at a local TV station, had dumped her.
Impatient with herself, she pushed Bradley out of her thoughts. She’d already wasted enough time and tears on him. She had more important things to think about.
Like who wanted her dead.
* * *
A relief agent had taken over the detail last night when Scout McAdams had left the ballroom. Though Nicco was primary in the protection unit, no one operative could effectively guard a client twenty-four seven. Usually operatives worked in threes, eight hours on, sixteen off. Because Olivia had asked for Nicco specifically, he’d opted for twelve-hour shifts.
He’d clocked seven hours sack time and had spent the other five finishing the paperwork for which his boss and friend Shelley Judd was a stickler.
“Trying to get on my good side?” Shelley asked when he turned in the expense report she’d been nagging him about for the last two days.
Since S&J had opened an office in Savannah last year, Shelley spent a couple of days there every month. With the arrival of baby Chloe, Shelley didn’t get out in the field as often as she’d like, but she still knew every operation and every assignment.
Nicco smiled at the picture of his hard-hitting boss in her role as mother. Shelley Rabb Judd and brother Jake Rabb, co-founders of S&J, had never known a loving mother’s care. Nicco knew she gave her child everything she’d been denied, most of all love.
The once efficiently streamlined office now resembled a nursery with a bassinet and other baby items spilling over the space. Six-month-old Chloe had definitely made her appearance known.
“Always.” He bent to brush a kiss over the downy hair of the baby nestled at Shelley’s shoulder. “Motherhood suits you.”
Dimples peeked out in her pixie face. “I’m operating on three hours’ sleep. My shirt has spit-up on it. I haven’t had a decent haircut or a manicure since before Chloe was born. And I couldn’t be happier.”
“I’m glad. For you and for Caleb.”
Shelley and ex-Delta Caleb Judd had endured more than their share of hardship, but they had come out the other side stronger and more in love than ever. Nicco knew a moment of envy for what they shared.
“Thanks. When it happens for you, you’ll think you’ve been hit by a semi and then you’ll wonder how you lived without that special someone in your life for as long as you did.”
Nicco summoned a smile he was far from feeling. He’d already met the special someone Shelley spoke of and she’d died. Happily-ever-after wasn’t in the future for him. Not any longer.
Unwilling to prolong that topic, he turned the subject to his current assignment. As Shelley was friends with Scout, he knew his boss would have a special interest in the job. He filled her in on the little he knew so far.
“I know Scout’s in good hands,” Shelley said. “I also know she won’t make it easy for you to protect her.”
“I’ll make it work.”
“You always do.”
“Got to go.” He pecked Shelley’s cheek.
He had just enough time for a visit to the police station before he was back on duty. At the station, he asked for Detective Wagner and was directed to a cubbyhole of an office.
Upon seeing Nicco, Wagner stood, held out his hand. “Santonni.”
The men shook hands briefly.
“I stopped by to see if you’d learned anything from the weapon from last night,” Nicco said.
“Not from the weapon itself, but ballistics traced the trajectory of the shot and found that it was sighted on Ms. McAdams. If you hadn’t pushed her to the floor...” The detective let the rest of the sentence go unfinished.
They spent a few more minutes kicking around theories before Nicco checked his watch. He had to be back on duty in less than thirty minutes. “Thanks. If you find out anything, I’d appreciate a heads-up.”
“Same goes.”
He met another S&J operative outside Scout’s office for the handoff. The agent looked over Nicco’s shoulder. “She’s heading this way.”
Scout paused, lifting her head as though sensing something. Fortunately, Nicco knew how to blend in with a crowd, and she didn’t make him.
He’d seen Scout McAdams in a dark pantsuit when he’d followed her to the courthouse where she’d gone to cover a story two days ago. Last night, he’d seen her in an evening gown. But this was the first time he’d seen her in jeans and a white T-shirt, with her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail.
She looked smaller, somehow, and younger. More fragile. He doubted she’d appreciate the description. Everything he’d learned about the reporter told him that she was independent to a fault and prided herself on being able to handle anything.
Look at how she’d reacted last night: she hadn’t fallen apart when shot at, and, in fact, had tried to comfort others. The lady was pure steel, but that didn’t mean she was invincible. He settled down to the routine of making himself invisible.
The trick was to not try too hard. Fortunately, Nicco had had years of experience blending into the background, first in the mountain villages of Afghanistan for the Rangers, and now in the far more civilized streets of his hometown.
He’d protect her, whether she knew it or not.
* * *
She was being followed.
Scout felt it as surely as she felt the early afternoon sun warm the back of her neck. She didn’t turn around to see who was tailing her. Instead of heading directly to her car as she’d intended, she walked to a coffee shop, deliberately taking her time. Every few minutes, she paused, pretending to gaze into a window. No one jumped into a doorway or suddenly pulled out a newspaper to cover his face.
At the coffee shop, she ordered her coffee, black. Fancy coffee drinks baffled her. If all you wanted was a shot of sugar, there were easier—and cheaper—ways to get it. She nursed the coffee as she made her way to her car. After she climbed inside, she took advantage of adjusting her rearview mirror to scan the sidewalk behind her.
Had she imagined it? She couldn’t detect anyone tailing her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was under surveillance.
She was new to the cloak-and-dagger business. Okay. Play it cool. She kept an eye out as she drove to the docks. Either her tail was really good, or he’d peeled off.
At the docks, she parked her car and walked to the spot the caller had told her was the best vantage point to witness the goings-on of the dock in question. A quick glance around