CLOSE TO YOU: Enhanced (Lost Hearts) (8 page)

             
"Let's go to the capitol." He stood, walked across the room, and opened the door for her. "You drive your car; I'll follow. I want to see if I can spot anyone lurking and watching. We'll meet inside, I'll introduce you to my people, and we're set."

             
"All right."

             
In the foyer, Teague stopped at Brenda's desk. "Call me when you need me. Otherwise I'm going to be out on this job."

             
"Yes, sir. If you could sign these checks before you leave . . ." Kate headed for the outer door.

             
"Kate, we need to clear up one last thing!" Teague said sharply. "You let me go out first." He caught her arm.

             
Pain shot through her. She flinched and gasped.

             
He let her go, steadied her with a hand at the base of her spine, and watched the expression on her face so very carefully. "Bruise?"

             
"Yes."

             
"Car'?"

             
"Yes."

             
"Hurts?"

             
"Yes."

             
"Don't worry." Teague's eyes chilled to dark, unfathomable pools. "And don't doubt this—I'll get the son of a bitch."

FIVE

             
"I understand." Kate rubbed the sore spot on her arm. "Lead the way."

             
"And you trust me?" Teague held her in place with the heat of his touch and the strength of his gaze. "You know I'll get your stalker?"

             
"I trust you." She couldn't say more. Her throat hurt from tension. Her gaze clung to his. She wanted to cry, but that was silly.

             
"All right. If you're ever uneasy, let me know. I live upstairs here." He extracted his business card from his pocket. "That has my personal cell phone number. If I'm not with you, call me or come to find me, and I'll fix whatever's bothering you. You'll do that?"

             
"I promise."

             
With a brisk nod, he let her go.

             
While he signed his papers for Brenda, she said to Kate, "You can trust your life to this man. I did, and I've never been sorry."

             
Kate's tension eased. "You had a stalker?"

             
"I had an ex-husband. Nothing could convince him I wasn't his to smack around anymore. Not until Teague explained matters to him. He hasn't dared show his face since." Brenda's testimonial was fierce and loyal.

             
"Yeah, and now I get to check out every one of Brenda's damned stupid boyfriends before she goes out." Teague shook his head and kept signing.

             
"He thinks I run to type," Brenda informed Kate.

             
"A bad type." Teague walked past Kate and out the door.

             
"My life's no longer my own," Brenda complained, but Kate could see she wasn't serious. In a lower voice, she added, "Really, he is the best."

             
Kate joined him on the porch and found him looking up and down the street. He glanced at her Beemer. "That's your car? Very nice."

             
"Thank you. I like it. It has the smoothest five-speed I've ever handled, and it tracks around corners beautifully."
Oh, God, she sounded like a car salesman
.

             
              "Give me your keys and I'll start it for you." He extended his hand.

             
"That's not necessary."

             
"Believe me, it is."

             
This grim guardian took the threats to her seriously. So seriously. He wouldn't let her stand near as he looked the car over, then started it. Stepping out, he waved her over and held the door while she stepped in. "Keep it locked while you drive. Don't worry, I'll be behind you."

             
Don't worry? She had a stalker, and the man who protected her from that stalker threatened her in a completely different way.

             
As she drove, she repeatedly glanced in her rearview mirror. Teague stayed a few cars back, and she watched the way he drove, without flash or daring yet with a cool efficiency that told her he could catch her if he deemed it necessary. Behind the tinting of his windshield he was nothing more than a dark shadow, yet she knew without a doubt he observed everyone around her.

             
She knew how to handle an aggressive man, or at least she knew as well as any woman. The trouble was—when she stood close to Teague, she didn't think of how brainless it would be to get involved with him. She didn't think at all; her reaction was visceral and instinctive, and that had to stop. She was known for her common sense. From somewhere, she needed to dredge some up.

             
Pulling into her usual lot, she parked, and briefcase in hand, she waited until Teague got out of his car before she unlocked the doors and joined him. "Did you see anything?"

             
"No." He looked her over with lascivious interest. "Damn it."

             
"Look, Mr. Ramos, professionals don't spend their time leering at each other," she said crisply.

             
"That's for sure." Gently taking her arm, he walked with her toward the capitol. "You haven't leered at me once since we left my office."

             
Her shoulders snapped back, and she glared.

             
"
There's
the sparkle back in your eyes. Are you still afraid you'll be attacked?" He asked as if he truly cared, and his interest was more disarming than his flirtation.

             
So she thought about it. Seriously considered the question. Doing something to thwart this stalker had given her a sense of control.

             
And while Teague was pushy and obnoxious, he also gave off an air of competence that reassured her. As much as she hated to admit it, if he lived with her, she would sleep well . . . or at least she would sleep without the fear of unexpected violence in the night.

             
"No, I feel better. You've reassured me. I'm not as afraid as I've been."

             
They entered the capitol building through the South Lobby.

             
"Let me show you the security office and introduce you to my people," he said.

             
"I really should go and see what's happening in the Senate Gallery. Today they're debating the Robin Hood bill. There'll be speakers from the rich school districts who stand to lose and speakers from the poor school districts who stand to gain and, of course, plenty of rhetoric from the Senate floor." She tried to slip around him.

             
Teague stopped her with an arm across her path. "It wasn't a request. If you're going to be here and not be with me every moment, my people need to meet you so they'll know who to keep an eye on."

             
She blinked at him in surprise, and in the soft, pouting lips and the baby-soft skin, Teague could see the indulged girl in her. She was used to getting her own way. In fact, this little prima donna was spoiled as hell.

             
"Come on, Kate, this won't take long," he said, cajoling her the same way he cajoled all the overpaid, self-absorbed women he dated. "The Senate will survive without you for a few more minutes."

             
She gave in with a grace that surprised him. "Of course. After all, Linda is covering that story." With a laugh and a shrug, she walked with him toward his security center. "I'll be interviewing you. Do you mind?"

             
"If I minded, I wouldn't have agreed to it." In fact he'd agreed to it because she was the reporter in jeopardy. That first time he'd seen her, he'd liked her poise, her style, the crisp tone of her voice. He'd loitered in the crowd looking like everyone's idea of a gang leader and waited to meet her gaze. The blaze that ignited between them had surprised even him.

             
Now some bastard had stripped away some of her confidence.

             
Not a lot. It would take more than a stalker to wipe out the conditioning produced by money and security. In fact, if it were anyone else, he would have said this scare was just what she needed.

             
But he had liked her the way she was. He had wanted her the way she was.

             
Now, damn it, he wanted her more—and she was a client. Teague needed to remember that. She was a client.

             
She pulled out her notebook and flipped it open. Pen in hand, she asked, "Where's your security center located?"

             
He put his hand over hers. "Some things we're not going to mention on television. Let's at least make the terrorists work for their information."

             
"Right." She put the notebook away and joined him in the elevator to the second floor. "Don't worry, keeping information back makes the piece even more intriguing to the public. When I'm done with you, you'll be a huge hit."

             
He looked down at her. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he didn't care one damned bit, but then she'd ask why he was doing this, and he wasn't about to admit he'd allowed his gonads to issue directives to his brain. Women, for some reason, didn't understand. "I direct security for the capitol. You're the capitol reporter. This'll be good for the company, so I put myself in your hands."

             
She smiled. She seemed to liked that. He supposed it gave her some sense of power over a life that had suddenly careened out of control.

             
To Teague, she looked an adolescent boy's version of Snow White, with pale skin, baby-soft cheeks, a plush, sensual, mouth, and black hair that curled around her face. She didn't flaunt her body, covering it in somber colors that played down her trim figure. Compared to the women he usually dated, expensive women who loved the challenge of dating a dangerous man, she was quiet, professional, and unassuming.

             
But Kate was nicely built, with breasts big enough to fit in the cup of his hands, a narrow waist, and hips that swayed when she walked. Her shapely legs made him

long
to see more. There was no art to her stride; she didn't make each movement an enticement, but just because she seemed unaware of the clean, smooth motion didn't mean it wasn't sexy.

             
"Here we are." He stopped in front of the reinforced metal door. With a hand on the electronic palm scanner, he identified himself, typed in a code, and the lock popped open. As they walked in, he announced, "I've brought a little excitement into your dull lives."

             
Four people faced them, three males and a female, as well as a bank of monitors and blinking lights.

             
Kate walked in without hesitation. "How do you do? I'm Kate Montgomery from KTTV. I'm here to do a news report on your boss."

             
"Hey, hey, hey. The boss is going to be a star!" Chun was Teague's team leader from California, a single, handsome, twenty-eight-year-old Asian American who talked fast and liked to remind people he'd graduated summa cum laude from Stanford.

Teague liked to remind him his major had been art.

              "I can hear the headline now. 'Super Security Keeps Senators Safe!' " Rolf was Teague's technology geek, a big blond German from North Dakota.

             
Big Bob was fifty-four, Texan to the bone, happily married with three kids and two grandkids, and he guffawed and offered up a high five.

             
"Nice alliteration, Rolf. You ought to look for work making up headlines."

             
Gemma was a petite beauty with beautiful black skin.

             
"There's a computer program for alliteration. I wrote it." Rolf grinned.

             
Gemma rolled her doe-like brown eyes.

             
The hilarity and teasing took Kate aback, but not Teague. In this business, grandstanding was ruthlessly mocked, and his people didn't stand in awe of him. He didn't usually want them to . . . although this outburst proved a little deference might be a good thing.

             
When the hubbub died down, Teague told Kate, "These so-called security experts rotate on and off duty. I'll introduce you to the people walking the corridors, too. If I'm not around and you suspect trouble while you're here, let any one of them know and they'll take care of you. Everybody is connected." He showed her the half-dozen earbuds and microphones hanging on hooks by the door. "Before anybody goes out, they hook up."