Secret Protector Page 6

  What had she gotten herself into?

  NATALIE STARED AT HIM as if shell-shocked.

  He narrowed his eyes on her. He’d tossed out the idea of seeing her paintings because he wanted a look at them. Obviously that was not what Natalie had in mind. He reached out and laid a hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Um, yeah. Come on in.” She waved an arm, motioning for him to follow her into the garage.

  He didn’t budge. “You don’t really want to show me your paintings, do you?”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. Her fingers flexed at her sides, her fists opening and closing.

  Obviously her paintings were very personal. He felt guilty for pushing. “I understand.”

  She met his eyes, as if looking for something.

  He gave her what he hoped was an understanding smile. Natalie might not be considered a classic beauty by some people, but he found her more attractive than any movie star he’d ever seen. There was something about her that riveted him. She had such a joy for life, yet underneath he sensed a sadness he wanted to soothe. Standing here right now, it was all he could do to keep from kissing her. No, not just that. He wanted to make love to her and know everything about her. He wanted to hold her and make her his.

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll show you.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. “I want to.” She led him into the little house.

  The cottage was light and airy inside, just as he expected. Hardwood floors stretched through the kitchen and dinette. Light marble countertops and bright splashes of color here and there looked cheery, yet soft. The living area featured neutral carpet, a fireplace and a light leather couch that looked comfortable enough to melt into. Natalie turned into a hallway. She passed a bathroom and stopped at what looked like a bedroom door.

  “This is it?”

  She glanced back at him. Pushing the door open, she stepped back. “This is it.”

  He stepped onto the smooth tile floor, Natalie right behind him. The space was a good size for what was originally a bedroom, but it was jammed with half a dozen easels, four of which had partially shredded canvases propped on them. Other painting supplies, including more canvas, filled a series of shelves and other storage stretching along two walls. “Looks like you have a nice setup here.”

  “My aunt and uncle insisted. I don’t think they really wanted me to move out of the big house. But since I did, they wanted the guest cottage to have everything I needed.”

  “Nice.” He crossed the room to get a better look at the easels. Natalie followed, her heels clicking on the floor. He scanned each canvas, piecing together shreds where he had to, hyperaware of her watching him.

  All the paintings had a similar theme. Shadows. The dark figure of a man. And on each, pools of red that looked like blood. Some of the images were at a distance. Some close-up. But whatever the perspective, all had an ominous feel. A shiver clawed at the back of Gray’s neck.

  “You don’t like them.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not that. They’re just so dark. I didn’t expect that from you.”

  “I told you they aren’t exactly commercial. I paint my nightmares.”

  Those had to be some awful dreams. He focused on what appeared to be blood spatters covering a shadowy close-up of a man’s face. “Nightmares about what?”

  She shifted her shoes on the tile. “Just nightmares. I paint them to get them out of my head. I try not to dwell on them.”

  In other words, she didn’t want to tell him. He couldn’t blame her. They hadn’t known each other that long, at least she hadn’t known him. He’d been watching her so closely the past weeks, he had the sense that he knew her. Obviously what he knew only scratched the surface. “Do you only paint nightmares?”

  “I don’t have a lot of time to paint now that I’m working so much at Kendall Communications. But I used to paint flowers in the shade garden and frost on the evergreens.” She gestured to the panel of windows peering out into dark gardens. “Those subjects were a lot more commercial. I sold quite a few paintings back then.”

  From the corner of his eye, he spotted something shifting in the shadows outside. Bigger than an animal, too substantial for a swaying tree branch.

  “Do you want to stay a little while? I have wine. We could build a fire.”

  He focused on the spot where he’d seen movement. Too late. The gardens and the cove of evergreens beyond stood perfectly still. Beyond that, it was too dark to see.

  “Or not. It’s kind of late, and I’m sure you are busy tomorrow.”

  “No.” He grasped her hand. Truth was, he’d love to spend some time with her all cozy in this cottage of hers. He’d been thinking about it all week. Dreaming about it. He must have taken five extra showers in the past few days, all of them cold. “I think it’s a great—”

  There it was again.

  Gray didn’t want to pull his eyes from Natalie’s. Not now. Not when he knew she’d read it the wrong way the first time. But there was no helping it. He could swear something was moving out there.

  He turned away from her and looked out the window. He’d only gotten the slightest glimpse, but he could swear the darkness shifted. Moved.

  There it was again.

  His gut tightened. Devin hadn’t mentioned anything about the police staking out Natalie’s cabin. That left only one likely explanation. Someone was out there. Watching. Waiting for him to leave. Biding his time until Natalie was alone. Vulnerable.

  He’d never let it happen.

  Even though the lights were somewhat dim inside Natalie’s studio, they were still bright enough to give him more reflection than night vision through the glass. He needed to get out there, find out who was watching. “I really have to go.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  He recognized the hurt in her voice. No doubt she thought he was rejecting her. A misperception that would make him laugh if the situation wasn’t so serious. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Of course. We work in the same building.”

  “I’ll meet you here. We can drive in together.”

  She narrowed her eyes, as if trying to figure out what was behind the offer. “That’s not necessary.”

  “I want to.”

  “You don’t want to stay tonight, but you want to drive all the way up here just so you can follow my car?”

  Little did she know he didn’t plan to go anywhere tonight. “I would like to stay. I just…can’t.”

  She nodded, a resigned look on her face. “I’ll see you at work.”

  He wanted to explain. Not tell her the truth. He’d promised Devin he wouldn’t do that. But the idea of her believing he didn’t want her…

  She walked him to the door. Standing to the side, she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I’ll be here tomorrow morning.” Without waiting for another protest, he opened the door and stepped into the night. She shut it behind him, and he could hear her slide the dead bolt into place.

  He walked to his car and slid behind the wheel, before turning back to check on the house. The foyer light clicked off.

  Natalie giving up on him.

  He should ease out of the drive, park on a side street and return on foot to surprise whoever was hiding in the gardens. With Natalie as bait, he could stalk the stalker, get the drop on him.

  Instead he pulled out his cell phone and called up a number.

  “Yes?” Devin Kendall answered in a clipped voice.

  “Grayson Scott. Do the cops have someone outside Natalie’s?”

  “They said they couldn’t. Not enough manpower, and she hasn’t been attacked. The best they would do was take a drive by every hour or two.”

  That’s what he’d suspected. If the Kendalls weren’t loaded and brother Ash wasn’t a cop himself, Gray doubted the locals would have been able to do that much in light of recent budget cuts.

  So it wasn’t a cop. That made his choices clear. “Thanks.”

  “
What’s going on?”

  “I think someone might be watching Natalie’s house.”

  “Gray, you’d better—”

  “Natalie’s safety is my only priority. She’ll be fine, I guarantee. But you might want to ask that cop to stop by five minutes ago. And tell your aunt and uncle to lock their doors.” He disconnected the call. Setting the ring to mute, he returned it to his pocket, pulled out his Glock and climbed from the car.

  He kept close to the evergreen trees rimming the garden. It was cold again tonight, unseasonably cold for November in St. Louis. His breath fogged in the air. With each step, he could feel the grass—stiff with frost—crunch slightly before giving beneath the sole of his shoe.

  When he reached the area where he thought he’d spotted movement, he paused, willing his eyes to see in the tree-filtered moonlight. Sure enough. The frost-touched grass bowed, flattened to the ground.

  The prints were smaller than his, but considering he wore a size twelve, that wasn’t saying much. He traced their path, circling the garden’s edge, flanking the house. Reaching an expanse of bare earth, he stopped to study a print on the edge.

  And noticed something shining in the moonlight.

  Nails. The four-inch spikes littered the mulch under a set of windows. What the hell?

  He pulled out his phone.

  Devin answered on the first ring. “Yeah?”

  “Has Natalie had any carpentry work done recently?”

  “No, why?”

  He filled Devin in on what he’d found. “In light of everything that’s happened, I’d like to get Natalie out of here until your brother and the cops can check out what’s going on.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Your aunt and uncle, too.”

  “Leave them to me. I’m on my way right now. Ash is, too.” He cut off the call.

  Gray circled the cottage and headed straight to the main entrance. Natalie’s safety had to be his priority. As much as he wanted to catch this guy, that wasn’t why he was here. Luckily Devin saw things his way and didn’t hesitate to respond.

  He made it back to the front door in seconds and hit the bell. A few more seconds and the soft footfalls of bare feet sounded on the other side.

  Natalie pulled the door open and stared at him from under lowered eyebrows. Her long blond hair was pulled back from her face. Her bathrobe dipped in a deep V between her breasts and cinched tight around her narrow waist. “I thought—”

  “Come with me.”

  “What?”

  He took a breath. The damn footprint and nails had him so shaken, he’d forgotten she didn’t know he was here to protect her. “Screw my early morning.”

  Her eyebrows shot upward.

  “You showed me your place. I want to show you mine.”

  Chapter Seven

  Natalie didn’t know what she expected Gray’s apartment to look like, but it sure wasn’t this. She scanned the Spartan room. White walls stretched from corner to corner, unbroken except by windows. The beige carpet seemed brand-new, and she doubted the stove had ever been used. “Did you just move in?”

  “I suppose it looks pretty empty to you.”

  Empty, yes. But not the clichéd bachelor kind of empty. Except for a jacket draped on a kitchen chair and two pairs of shoes tossed carelessly to the side of the door, the place looked cleaner than her house.

  And it was far from being a hovel. One look out the window and the sparkling lights of the city made one forget there was no art on the walls. And though little more than a leather couch broke up the living space, it was a piece anyone would be proud to own. Gray seemed to have good taste and money. “You don’t spend much time at home?”

  “No, not much.”

  She knew she was prying, but she couldn’t help it. She liked Gray. A lot. He’d seen her paintings, and now she wanted to know everything about him, even though he seemed about as eager to share as she had been.

  She could just imagine what Jolie would say about that.

  Pushing her friend’s concerned warnings to the back of her mind, Natalie stepped to the window and peered outside. Jolie was probably right to worry and not just about Natalie’s growing crush on a man she barely knew.

  Something had been going on at the mansion tonight, something no one seemed to want to tell her about. She noticed Ash’s car in the drive on their way out, and she could swear they passed Devin just a few blocks into the drive to Gray’s. She called Ash on the cell, but while he’d admitted he was talking to Aunt Angela and Uncle Craig, he’d revealed little else. She had to wonder if they’d learned something.

  Maybe something about whoever murdered their parents all those years ago.

  She could feel Gray move up behind her. For a second, she could imagine him putting his arms around her and pulling her back against his chest. Warm, safe, protected. The sensation was so vivid, she let out a sigh.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” She had the urge to tell him what she’d been imagining, then discarded the idea. She really liked Gray, and one of the things she ought to have learned about men by now was she couldn’t lay too much on them too quickly.

  “Sure? You seem worried.”

  Too much too quickly included trauma and craziness. Considering the amount of each that had entered her life since Gray and she met, she’d probably reached her quota. “Not worried. Just looking out at the view.”

  “Afraid of heights?”

  “Maybe a little. Especially when I look up.” She craned her neck to take in the taller building visible at the side of the window. “But it is a stunning view.”

  “For a lower floor, it’s not too shabby. That’s the reason I rented the place.” His voice rumbled close to her ear, but he didn’t touch her.

  She fought the urge to lean back against him. She couldn’t figure it out. When he’d left her house, she assumed he wasn’t interested. But then he’d returned and asked her to come to his apartment. And seeing that he’d refused her when she’d asked him to stay at her house, she’d better let him take the lead this time. Play a little hard to get.

  A good idea…in theory. Too bad she was terrible when it came to playing love games. It always seemed dishonest to her. Her aunt always said she wore her heart on her sleeve. It sure made it easy to break, but she’d never figured out how to do things differently.

  No wonder she was still alone.

  She wrapped her arms around her middle.

  “Cold?”

  She gave a shrug, not wanting to tell him where the need to hold herself had really come from. “A little, I guess.”

  “Just a second.” He turned away from her and walked down the short hall that must have led to the bedrooms. When he returned, he was carrying a dark colored blanket. He draped it around her shoulders.

  Not what she had in mind, but she gathered the blanket tight anyway. It was prickly, probably made of wool. The kind of blanket that could get wet and wouldn’t lose its insulating properties. “Is this a military blanket?”

  “Except for the comforter on the bed, it’s all I have. Sorry.”

  “You were in the army?”

  A muscle along his jaw flexed and he peered past her and out the window. “Navy.”

  “So you served on a ship?” Funny, she didn’t see him as the sailor type. Not at all.

  “I was in special forces.”

  A little shiver ran through her. “A SEAL?”

  He gave his head an almost imperceptible nod.

  She always thought of Navy SEALs as being brash, larger than life. But while Gray was strong and had a forceful aura about him, he seemed more quiet and self-reflective. He did have the sex appeal she’d expect, though. Plenty of that. “Did you like being a SEAL?”

  “It was the best time of my life.”

  “Why aren’t you still serving?”

  The muscle along his jaw twitched and tightened. Again he looked out at the lights as if he didn’t want her to see what was in his eyes. “I w
as injured.”

  “Oh, my God, what happened?”

  “You heard about the USS Cole?”

  Of course she had. It had happened a long time ago, and she hadn’t been old enough to really pay attention to the details. “It was bombed, right?”

  He nodded. “By a small group of terrorists in a raft. They weren’t seen as a threat and got close enough to damage the ship.”

  She remembered. “And people died. Sailors on the ship.”

  “Yes.” He took a deep breath, the inhalation rough enough to be a shudder. “That wasn’t the only attempt of that kind on a navy ship.”

  “Another ship was bombed?”

  “No. Thank God, the terrorists weren’t successful. At least we were able to keep that from happening.”

  “We? Meaning your SEAL team? You stopped a terrorist attack?” Maybe the news should have come as a surprise, but although she hadn’t heard about any other ships being attacked, she wasn’t surprised Gray had been able to thwart terrorists. After the way he’d scooped her out of busy traffic, she’d probably believe he was a superhero without too much difficulty. “That’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

  He shook his head. His brows hunkered low over his eyes. “No, I’m not amazing.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The operation didn’t go as planned.”

  “And that’s how you got hurt.” What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t she put that together before? “What happened?”

  He waited a long time before he spoke again. “We stopped the raft before it got close enough to damage the ship, but the ordnance was on a timer.”

  “It went off?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”

  That faraway look again. As if he was peering back at a past he didn’t want to acknowledge, didn’t want to remember. As if he felt somehow responsible.

  She knew that look. She still saw it in the mirror some days. “Somebody was killed.”

  He didn’t move. He didn’t answer.

  He didn’t have to. She knew she was right. Even without knowing the details, she wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. Maybe because she’d heard those words so many times when she was young. But words like that didn’t do any good. At least she’d never believed them. Still didn’t. “Who?”