Make Me Melt (3 page)

“I’ll drive you to your house, and then we’ll head to the airport.”

“Thank you.” She swallowed. “Did you— Have you seen him?”

Jason shook his head. “No. I got the news just before midnight. An hour later, Deputy Marshal Black and I were on the red-eye from San Diego.”

Caroline could hardly believe her ears. “Why?” she asked. “Why would you come straight here, when you could have gone to San Francisco to be at my father’s bedside?” A small part of her—the part that still held on to girlish fantasies—wondered if he might have come directly to her because, on some level, he did care for her. But in the next instant, those childish thoughts were banished.

“Caroline,” he said patiently, as if she really were no more than a child, “the U.S. Marshals Service is charged with providing protection for federal judges.”

“Yes, I understand. But my father is a judge in San Francisco, and your district is San Diego. Are you saying that you’ve been assigned to protect him?”

He gave her a humorless smile. “No. I’m here to protect you.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending. “Me? But why?”

“Until the assailant is captured, we have to assume the judge’s life is still in danger. It’s standard protocol to assign a protection detail to immediate family members, as well.”

She shook her head, unwilling to accept what he was telling her. She didn’t want Jason to protect her. The news of her father had left her feeling vulnerable and emotionally ragged. She didn’t want Jason to see her like this. Having him witness her fear and grief was far too intimate.

“But why you? This is out of your jurisdiction. Why wouldn’t you assign a marshal from the San Francisco district to protect me?” She couldn’t keep the strain out of her voice. “Why does it have to be you?”

Jason’s expression darkened. “Because despite the fact you clearly don’t give a shit about your old man, you’re the single most important person in his life,” he said, his voice hard. “Call it a professional courtesy. I’m doing this for him, not for you. I owe him that, at least.”

* * *

J
ASON
GLANCED
AT
the woman who sat beside him in the car, tense and unhappy. She’d hardly spoken during the long flight from Virginia to San Francisco. Not that he blamed her. He hadn’t been overly sympathetic to her.

Even his deputy had given him a look that would have withered most other men. But he and Colton had worked together for more than five years, and the other man was as close to a friend as he’d probably ever have. He glanced into his rearview mirror, noting the unmarked car that carried Colton and another deputy. Between the three of them, they would provide around-the-clock security to ensure Caroline’s safety.

The Caroline Banks he’d once known had changed. Gone was the sweetly passionate teenager who’d worn her heart on her sleeve. In her place was a coolly assured woman whose brittle demeanor and aloofness he hardly recognized. If his own manner toward her had been on the cool side, it was because she’d made so little effort to come home to visit her father. She’d been home once in the past five years. Judge Banks never complained, but Jason knew it hurt him. Caroline was his only child. While Jason loved the judge like a father, they weren’t family. His own frequent trips to San Francisco couldn’t make up for the fact that his daughter never came to visit.

Physically, she’d changed, too.

Her blond hair was darker than he remembered, layered with wheaten and caramel strands, and her normally tanned skin was pale, as if she hadn’t seen the sun in years. Yeah, she’d really put the California girl behind her when she’d cut out for the East Coast. Whenever he thought about Caroline—which was far too often, considering how much time had passed since he’d last seen her—she was always wearing a bikini or some skimpy outfit that showed way too much skin. The woman sitting next to him wore a pantsuit that had probably cost more than his monthly rent. She was so buttoned-up and conservative that he had a difficult time reconciling her with the exuberant girl of his memories.

But one thing hadn’t changed. His reaction to her had been immediate and so powerful that he’d had to draw on all his professional training to keep his emotions concealed. For just an instant, when she’d looked up at him in the lobby and their gazes had collided, he’d seen shock, then something that looked like hunger, in her eyes before she’d swiftly schooled her expression.

He’d been unprepared for how time and maturity had refined her beauty, sculpting her features and softening her curves. Caroline Banks had been an exceptionally pretty teenager. Now she was a drop-dead gorgeous woman, and the first thought that had steamrolled through his mind was that he’d completely blown it all those years ago when she’d asked him to be her first.

Realistically, he knew he’d done the right thing turning her away, but the knowledge that she’d likely had numerous lovers in the ensuing years bugged the hell out of him. Clenching his jaw, he told himself again—as he’d done a hundred times since—that he’d had no other choice.

Now he glanced at her as they parked near a rear entrance of the hospital, where several California state troopers stood near the doors. Her eyes widened, and she turned to look at him.

“Are they here for my father?”

“Until we catch the perpetrator, they’ll provide twenty-four-hour protection.”

“Why? Do you think whoever shot him will want to finish the job?”

Jason heard the underlying anxiety in her voice.

“That isn’t going to happen. We have our best men standing guard outside his room.”

He’d give his own life before he let anything happen to Judge Banks.

Or to Caroline.

“Thanks,” she said, nodding stiffly.

“Are you ready?”

She drew in a deep breath. “Yes. I think so.”

But moments later, standing by her father’s bedside, Jason knew she hadn’t been prepared for the sight of William Banks lying still and unresponsive, attached to a dozen monitors and tubes. Even Jason, who had seen numerous victims, found it unsettling.

Without the sparkle of his blue eyes or the energy of his personality in evidence, the judge looked old and frail. His mouth was slack, and his silver hair was in disarray. Above the thick bandage on his chest, his skin was stained orange from the surgical antiseptic. Jason noted traces of blood remained on his neck and jaw from the splatter of where he had been shot. Anger swirled through him, building and gathering like a dark storm. They’d find the person responsible, and he’d make sure they paid for what they had done to William. For what they had done to Caroline. For what they had done to him.

* * *

C
AROLINE
SAT
BY
her father’s bedside for the next several hours. At first, she’d just wept silently, but then she’d composed herself and covered his hand with her own, talking to him in soothing tones, despite the fact he was in a deep coma. She’d removed her jacket, revealing a white blouse that was so sheer, Jason could see the lacy outline of her bra beneath it. Her blond hair had begun to come loose from the clip she used to hold it back, and he liked how the tumbling locks made her look less aloof. If he’d had any doubts that she loved her father, it was dispelled by the expression he saw on her face as she held his hand.

Finally, she leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss against his forehead before rising to her feet. She glanced at Jason, then turned away and swiftly swiped her fingers across her cheeks. She picked up her jacket from where she had draped it across the arm of her chair and pivoted to face him. Jason was relieved to see she’d dried her tears. When she cried, he had an almost irresistible urge to drag her into his arms and comfort her.

“So what now?” she asked quietly. “The doctor said the next forty-eight hours are critical.”

She wanted him to reassure her that the judge would pull through, that he’d make a full recovery. But Jason couldn’t do that. He’d read the medical report. William had lost a tremendous amount of blood and had been in full cardiac arrest when they’d brought him into the emergency room. His injuries were so grave that the doctors had put him into a medically induced coma. He’d suffered brain damage, but they wouldn’t know the full extent of impairment until he regained consciousness.

If
he regained consciousness.

Jason didn’t want to think about that. Everything he had—his education, his career and even his outlook on life—he owed to the judge. Losing him would be worse than losing his own father. And if he felt that way, he could only imagine what Caroline was going through. Seeing how hard she tried to camouflage her emotions and put on a good face made him feel a surge of sympathy for her.

“You know, it’s okay to cry,” he said. “You don’t need to hide your feelings from me.”

She gave a disbelieving laugh. “Oh, yes, I do. I absolutely do.”

Before Jason could respond, a nurse walked into the room and began to change the judge’s IV drip.

“Stay here as long you’d like,” he urged Caroline. “I’ll wait outside in the hallway.”

She hesitated. “Would you like to spend some time alone with him? After all, he’s as much your father as he is mine.”

For just a moment, Jason was too surprised by her perceptiveness to respond. He hadn’t been the only troubled youth who’d benefited from the judge’s generosity, but he knew he was one of the few who’d maintained a close relationship with him over the years. While others had used their friendship with her father to advance their own careers, Jason had genuinely loved the older man and had enjoyed spending time with him. Even after he’d joined the U.S. Marshals Service, and his future had been secure, that hadn’t changed. But he wasn’t going to do Judge Banks any good by standing vigil at his bedside. Not when the person responsible was still out there, maybe hoping to finish the job.

“Thanks,” he said, “but if you’re ready to go, then so am I. The best way I can serve your father is to protect you.”

For a moment, she looked taken aback. “You’re serious. You think my life is in danger.”

“I have to make that assumption.” He gestured toward the bed. “But you can stay with him for as long as you’d like. I’m not going anywhere.”

She shook her head “No, that’s okay. It’s getting late, and he doesn’t even know I’m here. I’ll come back in the morning. I think I’d just like to go home.”

Jason knew she meant the house in Sea Cliff, where she had grown up. “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he told her. “The house is an active crime scene, and the investigators are still gathering possible clues.”

“Oh.” Her brows knitted together as she considered this. “Okay. Then I’ll find a hotel.”

“I already booked a suite of rooms for us at the Fairmont. It’s close to the hospital, and the security there is excellent.”

Jason saw something like panic flash in her eyes. “Us?” she repeated.

“Until this thing is over, I’m your personal protection detail,” he reminded her. “Where you go, I go.”

“Like a bodyguard? Is that really necessary?” Caroline clenched her hands at her sides, and her voice sounded a little desperate. “You said yourself that the security at the hotel is excellent. It’s my father who needs the protection, not me. Why can’t you just stay here, with him?”

“Not an option,” he said grimly. “There are two men standing guard outside the room and two more downstairs. Your father is secure—my job is to ensure your safety. If you’re ready to go, we’ll leave.”

“Oh, my God, this is crazy,” she muttered and rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. The movement caused her blouse to stretch tautly across her breasts, and Jason tried not to notice the faintest shadow of her nipples beneath the lacy fabric of her bra. After a moment, she sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay in a hotel if you insist, but I’d like to stop by the house first. I want to see where my father was shot.”

Jason hesitated. He was sworn to protect her at all costs. And not just from physical danger. Seeing her father fighting for his life in a hospital was bad enough. Witnessing the evidence of the violence that had sent him there, splattered across her front porch, was another thing altogether. He didn’t want her exposed to that kind of ugliness.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He watched as her eyes narrowed and she tipped her chin up in a gesture that he remembered too well. “I’m not a child anymore, Jason.”

He hadn’t even seen the crime scene, although he had a good idea of what to expect. But she had been sheltered and pampered her entire life. Neither her expensive education nor her law degree would have prepared her for the rawness of what he suspected awaited her at her father’s house. But he was beginning to understand that she was right—she was no longer a child, and there were some things even he couldn’t protect her from.

“Fine,” he said in a clipped tone. “Let’s go.”

With a satisfied nod, she pushed past him and strode into the hallway, leaving him with no choice but to follow her. Just outside the hospital room, he paused to withdraw a small surveillance earpiece from his pocket and insert it, ensuring communication with the rest of his team. As he adjusted the earpiece, he didn’t miss how the two guards sitting outside the hospital room followed Caroline’s progress with their eyes. Not that he blamed them. She was a beautiful woman, and her hips swung enticingly with each determined stride. She’d taken about ten steps when she stopped and turned.

“Are you coming?” she demanded. “How are you going to protect me if you can’t even keep up with me?”

Without waiting for a reply, she continued toward the exit. Jason exchanged a knowing look with the two guards before following her. As he reached her side, he acknowledged soberly that while he could protect Caroline from whatever dangers might lie in wait outside the hospital, he wasn’t sure he could protect her from himself.

3

A
S
THE
CAR
drew up in front of her father’s house, Caroline could feel Jason’s eyes on her. She knew that he was unhappy with her request to view the crime scene. She couldn’t explain to him her need to see where the horrific event had happened, to be able to visualize what had occurred when her father had answered the door. She hoped, too, that maybe she could help the investigators. Perhaps she would see something they had overlooked.

But whatever she had expected to see, it wasn’t the police cruisers and unmarked vehicles parked in front of the house and in the driveway. Several news vans were parked along the street, and it was only the quick action of the police that kept the reporters from mobbing their car as they pulled up to the curb.

Although it was just past six o’clock, it was still light outside, and Caroline could see the yellow police tape that surrounded the residence.

The sight of so many law enforcement personnel seemed incongruous, given the affluent neighborhood of mansions and meticulously manicured lawns. Crime in this area was virtually unheard of, and Caroline couldn’t believe anyone would have the nerve to commit such a heinous act in full view of the street, the neighbors and anyone else who might be watching. Of course, it had been close to midnight when the crime had occurred, so the likelihood of any witnesses was slim to none. Her father had always preferred to stay up until the wee hours of the morning.

“Maybe it was just a random act. He liked to stay up late, so maybe someone saw his light on and just chose him arbitrarily.”

She didn’t realize she’d said the words aloud until Jason thrust the car into Park and turned toward her.

“Everything indicates he was targeted.”

“But why? He’s a good man—the best. Why would anyone want to hurt him?”

He didn’t answer, shifting his attention toward the house. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Caroline followed his gaze to where several officers stood near the wide front porch, watching them. She recognized Deputy Black, who had followed them to the house in a separate car. Unlike the other men, he stood vigil near the sidewalk and scanned the surrounding area as if on alert for any unseen threat.

“I need to do this,” she finally answered, reaching for the door handle.

As she approached the porch, she was conscious of Jason’s protective bulk close by her side. The other officers stood back and allowed them to pass. Caroline climbed the steps slowly, aware that her heart was thudding hard in her chest. The front door was open, and she could see two more men standing inside the house. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of the blood.

The dark stain spread across the hardwood floor just inside the entryway and seeped into the edge of the Persian-style carpet. She had a sudden, vivid image of her father opening the door, only to be greeted by an explosive bullet to the chest. She envisioned him staggering back into the hallway and collapsing onto the floor as his assailant stood over him. The picture was so real, and so frightening, that for an instant, she couldn’t breathe. She heard a roaring in her ears, and black wings fluttered at the edge of her vision. She was only vaguely aware of strong arms coming around her as the floor rose up to meet her.

* * *

“P
UT
YOUR
HEAD
down and take some deep breaths.”

Even if Caroline had wanted to refuse, Jason’s hand was at the back of her neck, large and warm, urging her head down toward her knees. She was perched on the edge of the passenger’s seat, and he was crouched on the curb in front of her.

“I’m okay,” she protested weakly, although she wasn’t at all sure that was true. Her head still felt fuzzy, and there was the oddest flip-flopping sensation in her stomach that seemed to increase with the gentle pressure of Jason’s fingers against her nape.

“Just relax,” he insisted, his voice soothing her frayed nerves. All these years, and he’d never quite lost the distinctive accent of the inner city where he’d grown up. But Caroline liked the inflection. It was a reminder of where he’d come from and just how tough he was. She really believed that with Jason around, nobody was going to get near enough to hurt her.

She drew in a shaky breath and raised her head enough to look at him. He was so close that for a moment, she was disconcerted. His skin was burnished to a warm hue from the sun, but up close, she could still see faint traces of the scars he’d borne as a teenager, which had made him seem so dangerous and mysterious to her. There was one that bisected his left eyebrow and another along the chiseled rise of his cheekbone, as if he’d taken a blow that had split the skin.

But it was his eyes that made it difficult for her to catch her breath. They were clear and pure, caught somewhere between green and gray. In the late afternoon sunlight, they appeared bottomless, and Caroline had a sense that if she looked deeply enough, she might even see the secrets that he tried so hard to keep.

“Hey,” he said, peering up at her. “Sure you’re okay?”

She nodded and tried to pull herself together. “Yes, thanks. I’ve never actually keeled over before. Sorry about that.”

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s not an uncommon reaction, although it could have easily been avoided.” He arched one eyebrow in a look that clearly said he’d warned her. “Once the investigators are finished, I’ll send out a team to clean up.”

“Hey, boss, everything okay?”

Still on his haunches, Jason turned to look at his deputy. “Yeah, we’re good. I’m going to take Ms. Banks to the hotel and get her something to eat.” He shifted his attention back to Caroline. “Are you feeling up to a drive?”

She didn’t think she’d ever eat again. The image of the bloodstained threshold haunted her. She stared at Jason with a growing sense of respect.

“How do you do this?”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand, and his eyes softened fractionally. “By doing whatever it takes.”

Before Caroline could respond, Deputy Black stepped toward the car, his entire body on full alert. Immediately, Jason rose to his feet, pushing her into the car and closing the door, before planting himself directly outside her window.

One of the police officers quickly crossed the lawn toward them. “That’s Marisola Perez, the neighbor’s housekeeper. We’ve already cleared her.”

Caroline peered through the window to see a woman walking down the driveway that bordered her father’s property. She looked to be in her forties, and she wore a simple cotton dress with an apron that reminded her of the uniforms worn by hotel maids.

The woman clutched her purse and walked with her head down, clearly uncomfortable with the activity going on next door and the attention that was suddenly focused on her. When she reached the end of the driveway and turned onto the sidewalk, she cast one quick glance toward Jason and the car.

“Have a good evening, ma’am,” Deputy Black said.

She gave a jerky nod, and Caroline watched as Ms. Perez quickly crossed the road and climbed into an older model sedan, then drove away. Only when the car was out of sight did Jason and Deputy Black relax.

“Freaking rich people,” the police officer said in a disparaging tone. “Every house on the street has a gardener, a housekeeper, a cook and a personal assistant. I guess when you have money, you lose the ability to do anything for yourself.” He shook his head in disgust. “Christ, there’s more hired help on this street than there are actual residents. Just questioning them is going to take us days.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, and the officer suddenly became aware of Caroline sitting in the car, staring at him in astonishment through the open window.

“Beg your pardon, ma’am,” he mumbled, and twin splotches of color appeared high on his cheeks.

With an embarrassed glance at Jason, he turned and hurried back to the house. Jason and Deputy Black exchanged quiet words that Caroline couldn’t hear; then the deputy strode toward his own vehicle.

Troubled by the man’s words, she looked around her at the houses on the street. Many of the nearby residents had come to stand on their front porches or lawns, drawn by the excessive number of police officers and news reporters. She knew from experience that this was a quiet neighborhood. Nothing exciting ever happened in Sea Cliff, unless it was a black-tie dinner party and the governor was invited. To have a prominent and respected member of the community gunned down on his own front steps was beyond shocking.

As Caroline noted the residents who stood watching, she realized that what the police officer had said was true. She could easily spot the housekeepers and nannies who had come out to the street to watch, conspicuous because of their uniforms.

She’d never considered it odd to have hired help while she was growing up. As a child, they’d had a live-in cook and a woman who came to the house twice a week to clean. There was a man who took care of the landscaping and another who took care of their swimming pool. Her father had an assistant who spent most of his time at the house. Even when William had been at work, Caroline had never been alone.

But what must that kind of lifestyle look like to a guy whose career was in public service? Caroline didn’t blame the officer for what he’d said. From his perspective, it probably did appear that the residents of Sea Cliff were incapable of caring for themselves.

After a moment, Jason came around to the driver’s side. He’d taken off his sports coat at the hospital, and he made no effort to hide his gun, which he wore in a shoulder holster. She wondered if he was sending a deliberate message to anyone who might be watching the house, or her. She admitted to finding this new Jason a little intimidating. He’d always been the strong, silent type, but combined with a don’t-mess-with-me attitude and a firearm, he was positively forbidding.

He started the car and then turned in his seat to look at her. “I’m sorry about what that officer said. You shouldn’t have to listen to that. Everyone has the right to earn a living, and the people in this neighborhood provide good jobs and income for a lot of families. Sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. And he has a right to his opinion. That woman—” She stopped, feeling foolish.

Jason waited, expectant. “Yes?”

“Your men interviewed her?”

“Both the police and the FBI did, yes.”

“I see. I was wondering...have they already interviewed my father’s housekeeper? And gardener? I mean, they’d have opportunity. They know his schedule, right? They know when he’s home alone.”

“The police and the FBI have spoken with his housekeeper. Her name is Consuela Garcia, and she’s about seventy years old. She’s worked for your father for almost five years, and she has a rock-solid alibi for last night. He also has a gardener, who happens to be Consuela’s husband.” He paused. “They’re good people, Caroline. You don’t have to worry. They’d do anything for your father, and they’re devastated by what happened to him.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry to sound so suspicious.” She flashed him an embarrassed smile. “I know this is what you do and that your men have everything under control. I guess I’m just feeling a little paranoid.”

“That’s good. That means you’re on alert and you’ll be more aware of your surroundings. Once we get to the hotel, we’ll go through some safety guidelines.”

* * *

T
HE
HOTEL
WAS
only blocks from the hospital, and Caroline wasn’t surprised to discover that Jason had sent one of his men ahead to register and retrieve the room key. The Fairmont was one of the most exclusive hotels in San Francisco, and their room was located in one of the luxurious towers. If they hadn’t just come from the scene of her father’s shooting, she might have thought Jason was being a little dramatic in how he carefully surveyed their surroundings as they made their way to the room. She found herself reassured, both by his vigilance and his strong, steady presence.

Colton Black opened the door at Jason’s curt knock, and Caroline found herself ushered into the room. She looked around, more than a little surprised at the size of the suite. She’d expected a studio, with a small living area and kitchenette and an adjoining bedroom. The suite of rooms that Jason had reserved was enormous, with a spacious parlor area and two private bedrooms. There was a fireplace, flanked by deep bookshelves, and a wet bar. A telescope stood in front of the wraparound windows, and the furnishings were rich and lush. Caroline turned to stare wordlessly at Jason.

He shrugged and walked across the room to the closest bedroom. He set her small suitcase down just inside the door. “We need a space large enough to accommodate the two of us, without you feeling like I’m right on top of you.”

His tone was casual, but his words conjured up decadent images of the two of them, naked and tangled in her bedsheets. A peek inside the bedroom only ramped up her lustful imaginings. An enormous bed dominated the room, heaped high with pillows. Through a wide door, she could see a spectacular marble bathroom equipped with a whirlpool tub and a flat-screen television. Pushing aside her own inappropriate thoughts, she turned back to Jason.

“Who’s paying for this?” she asked. “And don’t try to tell me that the U.S. Marshals Service provides five-star hotels for their clients.”

Jason scowled. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Is this coming out of your own pocket?” When he tried to move away, Caroline stepped in front of him. “Is it?”

He looked resigned as he unfastened his shoulder holster with practiced fingers and removed it, then set the harness and weapon down on a nearby table. “The only thing you should be concerned about is your father. Nothing else.”

“Jason—”

“I can afford it.” His voice clearly said the conversation was over.

“Seriously, he can.” This came from Colton Black, who stood near the door, watching the exchange with amusement. “Hey, boss, I’m going to set up outside.”

Jason nodded. “Let me know when you change shifts with Deputy Mitchell.”

“Will do.”