On the Scent (2 page)

O-kay. Tell her what? Better yet, tell her
how
?

Mixed in with the instructions Ellie had left for Hannah had also been a brief scribbled note and a clipped article from a magazine.
When I die, hire this man to help you.
The torn and tattered old article had been a brief story previewing an upcoming season of
The Psychic Detective
. A publicity shot of Zachary Collins with his thick, dark hair, square-jawed masculinity, and eyes so blue they'd reminded her of the Georgia sky on a sunny day had taken up most of the page. His charisma in print had packed such a wallop, it was easy to understand why the man had been cast in his own TV show. Who the heck cared if he was psychic or a detective? The man was gorgeous.

Hannah had assumed he was only an actor, but Zachary Collins was a legit investigator. His website announced he'd opened an agency in Atlanta a little over five years ago. Licensed, bonded, and he'd come highly recommended by the Georgia Board of Private Detectives and Security Agencies when she'd called this morning.

Okay. Psychic plus detective. Hannah wasn't stupid. Ellie had obviously thought this guy could communicate with Abbott and Costello and—what? How had Ellie known Hannah would need protection? Because of the money?

“I was hoping you could use your, you know, psychic abilities or whatever it is you do, to help me talk to the boys. Is there anything they need to tell me?” She shrugged and tried to look sheepish as she waited to see if he'd pass her test and freak her the heck out by saying something along the lines of “Abbott said to tell you that Ellie had a detailed journal describing her life as a Mexican drug lord hidden in the floorboard of her bedroom.”

Hannah needed that kind of proof to believe this guy could read minds, furry, human or otherwise.

His cobalt eyes captured hers, and
whoa mama
, she practically melted in the chair from the intensity of his stare. Tugging the collar of her shirt away from her neckline, she squirmed in her seat and looked away.

“I don't communicate with animals, Miss Dawson,” he said. “My psychic abilities aren't specialized to pet readings.”

“I understand that.” She might as well be panning for gold when it came to figuring out why Ellie had wanted her to hire him—well, other than the old woman had lost her mind—but the only thing different about him from the other private investigators she'd researched was that he claimed to be psychic. “I'd hoped you might be persuaded to try, or perhaps you can recommend someone who does talk to animals? I've got the money. I can pay whatever it takes.”

“I read people, not animals, but—” He seemed to hesitate. His eyes held hers. When he finally leaned forward and turned his gaze to the dog stretched out on his office floor, the tension she'd been feeling for the past few days loosened its grip on her muscles. “I sense that they're still grieving. They miss their former owner, but they are quite happy with you. I'd dare say grateful.” He took a deep breath. “I'm afraid there's really not much else to tell you. Animals are pretty simple-minded creatures. People tend to think they're much smarter than they really are.”

Oh, really? Hannah crossed her arms and studied him to see if he was feeding her a line of BS. Costello knew exactly when eight o'clock was each day without looking at a clock—it was his feeding time—and Abbott could open doors and cabinets like it was nothing.

Oh, no. This man was obviously a quack. Zachary Collins had one helluva poker face though. She snuck a look down at the bag containing the cat. Abbott had also awoken her when the person trying to kidnap Costello had been wrestling with the dog.

The cat's yellow eyes peered up at her with a sardonic expression. Almost as if the animal was thinking,
Are you buying this crap?

She focused on Zachary again. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” Smiling, Zachary leaned forward. “As I said before, I have a couple of qualified men who can help you secure your home. If you're looking for a bodyguard to provide around-the-clock protection, I can arrange that, too.”

Around-the-clock what? Lord have mercy, that sounded expensive.

Abbott's loud meow drew her attention. She straightened her shoulders and focused on the reason she was here. “They really aren't telling you anything else?”
Anything about Ellie I should know?

Zachary seemed to stare at the wall, his eyes unfocused and glazed. “I'm sorry. Like I said…”

“Simple-minded. Right.”

Well, crap. She was back in what-the-heck-do-I-do-now territory. How did a person find a legitimate psychic, if such a thing existed?

Costello made a low growling sound as he began to wiggle around on the carpet. The dog's stubby paw batted at her foot playfully. His tongue lolled to one side, and he panted. So maybe Zachary Collins had a point. Still, she'd thought it might be worth a try. She'd never felt so desperate for help in her entire life, and that was really saying something.

She felt so
alone
in all of this.

Someone had broken into her home, after all.

“Do you think I need a bodyguard?” The thought of someone following her around twenty-four hours a day kind of creeped her out.

“Do you live alone?”

“Yes.”

“Are you involved with anyone?”

She felt her shoulders tense again. “No. Why?”

“Any friends who could stay with you?”

Her best friend might, but Hannah didn't want to inconvenience anyone, especially Sarah, who was studying hard to earn her IT certification. “No.”

“Then I would say yes, at least for a temporary period, while you're still the focus of media attention.” He reached for his phone and asked someone if Brian was available yet. After a brief exchange, he replaced the receiver. “I've requested my partner to come in and meet you. He's a former Marine as well as a trained police officer with a few years of experience on the force. If anyone can offer the protection you need, it's him.”

The door opened and a good-looking, square-jawed man with a military cut poked his head in. “You wanted to see me, Zach?”

Zachary nodded, and Hannah stared when the other man's body came into full view. Muscular would have been an understatement. The burly man she assumed was Brian looked more suited to a gym than an office.

“Brian Burns, meet Hannah Dawson.”

“Call me Hannah.” Standing, she held her hand out to the man and was relieved when his grip didn't crush her fingers.

Zachary briefly explained the situation. “If you feel comfortable with Brian, we can arrange a trial period where he shadows you to make certain he's a good fit. He can also assess what your needs are while he's there.”

“You won't even know I'm there.” Brian half-smiled at her.

“Uh, okay.” She crossed her arms again. “Is the trial period free?”

Zachary flexed his hands and exchanged looks with his partner. “The first day will be on us. After that, it's $200 an hour.”

“An hour?” Talk about pricey.

Zachary shrugged. “For first-time clients with good credit, we do offer a slight discount that would bring it down to $175 an hour.”

Better, but still pricey. It took Hannah a minute to remember that she could easily afford that now. Total craziness
.
She nodded. “Okay. I suppose that's alright. When can you start?” Maybe they weren't staffed with amazing psychics, but they seemed to be reputable security specialists. Right now she needed protection, for her and the animals.

“Give me an hour to get a bag packed.” Brian reached for the door and, with a strange look in Zachary's direction, disappeared. Hannah returned her focus to the handsome man who, not least, made her secretly glad her dear friend Ellie had chosen this firm over all the others in Atlanta.

“While he's gone, we can take care of some paperwork, okay?”

She took a deep breath, grateful she wasn't being turned away. And a tad bit disappointed she wasn't going to be protected by
The Psychic Detective
himself.

Hannah peeked over her shoulder to make sure the guy who was going to be her shadow for a while had actually heeded her request and hadn't followed her inside. She punched in the security code to disable her new alarm.

His back was turned to her in the doorway, and he wasn't even looking inside. Wow
.
A man who actually did what she told him? Where had this mythological creature come from? “Just one more minute please.”

Freeing the animals from their leash and bag, Hannah hurried to pick up the bras, socks and other laundry scattered throughout the living room. Not to mention the dirty plates, empty cups and candy wrappers. And cat and dog toys.

She normally wasn't a slob, but since moving, everything had been in chaos, including her mind. She seemed to prefer lounging on the sofa, watching old black and white movies that made her cry, and sharing buckets of ice cream with the boys to being her usual neat-freak, health-nut self.

Girl, you have got to get it together.

She eyed the still unpacked boxes with regret—she'd really had plenty of time to unpack by now, hadn't she?—and wrestled with two armfuls of clothes. It all went flying into the laundry room, barely missing the curious cat that had followed her. The door made a much louder sound than she expected when she slammed it shut. Hannah cringed, and Abbott shot her a dirty look once he stopped his mad dash down the hall to get away from her.

The noise caught Brian's attention, too, and Hannah smiled at him as she hurried back into the living room.

“Okay,” she said. “All clear. I had to, um—” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder as she struggled for a reasonable excuse. “Clean up the mess Costello made before we left.”

A strange whining sound came from the dog now sitting against her foot, and Hannah scanned down to see him looking up at her, his head cocked kind of funny. She squished her face up in apology and told him mentally,
Sorry, boy.
You know, just in case he'd understood her.

Brian reached down and gave the dog a friendly rub on the head. “Don't worry, fella. We're all a little messy sometimes.”

But he was looking at Hannah when he said it.

Glancing around, he asked, “How did the intruder get in?”

She tucked her hands in the back pocket of her trousers and sighed. “The police seemed to think he disabled the security alarm first, then came in through the French doors in back.”

“So he probably gained entry through the back yard,” he concluded. “Is it fenced?”

“Of course.”

Hannah hung back and watched as Brian inspected every window and door. He disappeared outside for a while, then returned holding a small piece of wire in a handkerchief.

“They were right about the security system, but they missed some evidence. Do you have a plastic bag?”

Seeing the piece of wire shot a zing of panic through her motionless body. This had really happened. Someone had actually been in her home.
She really had beaten off a wannabe kidnapper with the old baseball bat she'd taken from Miss Parham's attic.

“You okay?” Brian asked, and she shook herself, feeling slightly dazed.

“There are some bags in the kitchen.” Her fingers fumbled with opening the drawers, and Hannah swore under her breath. “The alarm company came out and repaired the alarm this morning, so it's okay, right?” When she passed the plastic bag to him, Brian wasn't smiling. “What?”

“I'll be honest with you, Miss Dawson.”

“Hannah,” she reminded him.

“Security alarms are great at scaring off amateurs, but against people who really know what they're doing, you're wasting your money.” He looked sincere. “I'm not saying you shouldn't have one, but considering your situation, you really should take extra precautions.”

She slid her hands into her back pockets again. “What kind of extra precautions?”

His stone-faced expression relaxed a bit. “Contacting us was a great start. I've got a few ideas we can work on—” He reached for the buzzing phone belted at his hip, frowned and told her, “I'm sorry. I need to take this.”

Hannah leaned back against the counter and felt something furry press against her bare arm. Abbott, the darn cat, had jumped up on the counter again and rubbed his black and white head against her elbow. He circled around and got her from the other side too. She guessed that meant he forgave her for giving him a scare earlier, so she picked him up and gave him a proper petting in apology.

Honestly, she didn't know what she'd do without the cat and dog these days. Her little boys. She had a feeling she'd be ridiculously lonely without them.

They were her everything, which could mean only one thing.

She was a crazy cat lady. Well, crazy cat lady with a dog. Or maybe there was another name for her. Crazy…pet fanatic?

“Don't panic!” Brian exclaimed from the other room. Abbott tugged away, demanding to be set on the ground again, and darted into the living room. Hannah followed Abbott, and Costello followed Hannah.

One thing was immediately obvious. Her massive muscle of a bodyguard was weak on his feet. She hurried forward the same second he reached out a hand to steady himself against the back of the sofa, only to crumple to the floor anyway. He never let go of his phone, though, and as Hannah knelt beside him—his color was pale and the pulse at his wrist was unusually high—he told the person on the other end, “Don't worry. I'll be right there.”

He pressed END on the phone and immediately began hyperventilating.

What the heck was going on?

Hannah checked his pulse again and then reached out to feel for his temperature. “Breathe slow,” she told him. “Deep breaths. Release. Good.”

Costello jumped up and began humping the leg that was sprawled out in front of Brian. “No.” Hannah told the dog, shoving him away. “You're not helping.”

The dog sat back so his chunky body was gathered around his back feet. She shot him an I-can't-believe-you look and shook her head, but the always-content canine opened his mouth and grinned.

“Are you having chest pains?” Hannah reached for Brian's phone and began dialing 911. “Nausea? How's your vision?”

Brian's hand reached out and stopped her. “No.” He shook his head, looking dazed. A gleam of sweat glistened along his forehead. “I think maybe…panic attack?” He shook his head. “I've never had one before, but I've had friends who have.” He reached for her shoulder and tried to press himself up.

“What happened?” Against her better judgment, she helped him rise to his feet.

His fingers were trembling when he reached for his phone again. “My wife's water just broke.”

“Oh.” As his words sank in, she felt him begin to tilt sideways and circled her arm around his back to keep him from falling again. Geez, the guy was heavy.
My wife's water just broke.
“
Ooooh
.” She'd seen this before. First-time father. Panic attack.

Hannah had only worked in labor and delivery during her student nurse rotations, but she'd seen enough to know Brian wasn't the first tough guy to go down when labor began.

Brian stumbled around, and as his human crutch, Hannah stumbled around with him, the cat and dog dodging their footsteps. Hannah groaned. Where was a camera when you needed one?
She didn't have a monitor handy, but she suspected Brian's blood pressure was dangerously low due to shock. She needed to get him seated and calm as soon as possible.

Propping her bodyguard against the wall, Hannah reached for her purse, hustled Abbot into his carrier and grabbed Costello's leash. Then she wrestled the three-ring circus out of her living room and into her car.

She prayed they'd all make it to the hospital in one piece.

Zach clenched his back teeth to keep from saying something that would land him in a lawsuit or worse. He leaned forward, rested his forearms on his desk and fisted his fingers.

“You want to tell me that again?” His voice was terse.

Kellan Murphy met his gaze unflinching across the desk. For the last three years, Zach and Brian had considered him their next-in-charge, the most dependable guy on their team, a leader for the others.

“You're quitting on us?” Zach clarified.

“I didn't say that.” Red crept up Kellan's neck and colored his cheeks. He looked away. “I didn't mean for it to happen. I swear. It just happened. I thought you should know.”

Zach didn't know how the hell sleeping with a client “just happened.”

At least the other man hadn't sugar-coated things. Kellan had walked into his office, told him he'd gotten a job offer as a full-time bodyguard to their highest-paying client, an actress on a popular TV show filmed right outside of Atlanta.
And by the way, Zach, I've also been sleeping with her for the past few weeks.

Zach popped another antacid into his mouth. This was exactly the kind of shit that had nearly tanked the agency. Regulars took a particular liking to one of their workers and stole them away along with the fees they'd been paying the firm directly. They'd lost good men and reliable income because their contracts hadn't incorporated the proper penalty fees.

Oh, yeah. They'd suffered a sharp learning curve that first year of business, but things had gotten better, much better, once they'd found their stride. They'd hired a whip smart manager to run the business side of things while they'd focused on getting the job done. Then bam. Things had started to go to hell in a handbasket again.

Zach had taken himself out of the field after what had happened in Kirkwood. Then Gillian, their business manager slash receptionist, had gotten pregnant and left them to be a stay-at-home mom. A national chain had moved into their turf, specializing in cyber security along with traditional private investigations, and Collins Security Firm had started losing business. Too much business.

The few savings Zach had from his time on TV had already gone into purchasing vehicles and equipment. If he couldn't somehow turn things around, and soon, they'd have to close the doors in three months, tops.

His attention swung back to Kellan. Sleeping with a client? The ex-cop should know better. It was career suicide. Eventually the actress would get tired of sleeping with him and fire his ass. Then where would he be?

“Does she understand we can sue her for hiring you away from us? It's in her contract, and yours.” Zach reached into the bottom desk drawer where he kept his most important documents, including copies of the contracts with all of the firm's highest-paying clients. As soon as the drawer opened, his gaze fell on a file labeled DYLAN at the front. All it held was the birthday card he'd bought years ago but was too much of a coward to mail to his little brother—not that he even knew his brother's address anymore.

Another reminder of what an epic failure Zach was.

“Sue her?” Kellan sounded surprised. His face lost its color. “Are you gonna fire me?”

Zach was tempted, but he needed the asshole on staff too damn much. “I assumed you were quitting to take the job with your girlfriend. What would be the point of firing you?”

Shoving his brother's folder out of mind, he checked the actress's contract to make sure it was still valid for a while yet. Luckily, it was. Even if she broke it now, the agency would still get paid for another four months, plus a penalty fee. But then?

They were screwed. They needed to convince Kellan to stick around so she would, too.

Kellan shook his head. “I don't know what to do. I never thought I'd—” His words fell short as he turned and paced toward the opposite wall. Hands on his hips, he turned and faced the desk again. “I'm sorry, Zach.”

“I think we need to revisit this conversation when Brian can be here, don't you? Dammit, Kellan.” Zach pushed a hand through his hair. “I don't need this right now. Go do your job, and get out of my sight. We'll talk about this later.”

Kellan hesitated, as if he wanted to stay and finish it now, but he must have sensed it wasn't a good time to push his luck. The office door shut behind the tall blond man, and Zach picked up his phone.

Instead of Brian's deep voice, a familiar feminine one answered his call. “Zachary! Oh, thank goodness. I was trying to find you in his contacts,” Hannah said, and then in a calm voice informed him she was driving to the hospital with his partner passed out cold in the seat beside her. “Can you please check on his wife to make certain she's taken care of? Her water broke about ten minutes ago, and this guy is in no condition to go get her.”

When Zach reached the hospital, Brian was waiting—in a wheelchair, no less—in a room with his wife, Jenny. Their newest client was nowhere in sight.

“The nurses told me Hannah left after they got me conscious,” Brian muttered. “Damn, I owe that woman. Bigtime.”

Zach tried calling the number for her he'd programmed into his phone earlier. She sent him to voicemail. Shit. This wasn't their day for retaining customers, was it?

“Maybe you could head over and check on her,” Brian said. “Apologize for me.”

Any other time, and he would have already been on his way. “No way, man. I've been looking forward to this. I want to be here when your kid is born. I'll go see Hannah later.”

“At least see if Kellan can go keep an eye on her place in the meantime. Tell him to be discreet.” Brian rubbed his forehead. “There was someone following her earlier. A black car. Tinted windows. Georgia license plate, but I didn't make the numbers.”

Zach swore beneath his breath and punched in Kellan's number. His conversation with their next-in-charge was short and to the point. If Kellan didn't want to be sued for breach of contract, he'd get to Hannah's place pronto.

“Park across the street. Keep an eye on her house. I'll be there later. You see anything suspicious, call me. Got it?”