Overwhelmed (8 page)

Isaac desperately wanted to get his hands on the person who had done this. The Army Rangers had taught him a hundred ways to take out an enemy in order to protect civilians, in America and around the world.

In many ways, he was a product of his extensive training, his tightly honed body and carefully educated mind making him an intelligent weapon. There was no one more deserving of his protection than Carolyn, the woman who had just spent her first night in his arms, the woman who, if the Fates were kind, would spend every night in his and his partner’s arms.

Isaac was not a sentimental man. Although he was retired from the army, he still thought of himself first as a soldier, a Ranger. It was hard to indulge a soft heart in the places the army had sent him, but he definitely held a deep love in his heart for Carolyn. The wealth of tenderness she could make him feel for her tightened his chest and left him off balance. It shocked him some days.

It was hard for him to say it, or even to admit it, but he valued her safety and happiness above anything or anyone else. If this bastard tried to get near her again, he was in for a hell of a nasty shock. He had a reputation for being fair, for giving second chances, but he had a real short fuse where a threat on Carolyn’s life was concerned. This was a definite threat.

Isaac wasn’t in the mood to take prisoners.

“Yes, poor Pavarotti. He was such a sweet little bird,” Charlotte said. “He wasn’t just Carolyn’s pet. Everyone in the office loved him. Well, not Nina or Josie maybe, but everyone else.”

Isaac wasn’t aware of it, probably since he spent the majority of his time avoiding Nina, but he wasn’t all that surprised. Nina just wasn’t a warm, pet-loving sort of person. “People were always bringing in little treats for him. Burgess even talked about putting his cage out in the bullpen, to kind of brighten the place up.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Burgess.”

Walt Burgess was a merciless hand-to-hand fighter, a hardened, lifelong agent who looked like a thug and had a soft heart for anything smaller and weaker than himself. He taught free self-defense classes for the girls at the local college, starting when his own daughters were teenagers. Over the years, he had roped in many of the other agents to help with that enterprise, including Isaac himself on numerous occasions. Walt just loved it when he could convince those sweet-faced college girls to beat on Isaac or one of the other agents.

“What about Carolyn’s house? Any major damage?” Charlotte asked now, straightening to press one hand to the small of her back. “Heath and Bran were all geared up to get over there with guns blazing the second the alarm sounded, but Conn pulled rank and went himself.”

“Front window smashed with a brick,” he said succinctly. “There was no one on the premises, and no footprints on the lawn. Conn thinks the perp didn’t even leave the front walk and didn’t enter the house.”

“Anything unusual?”

“The brick was painted with insults like ‘bitch,’” he replied.

Charlotte snorted. “Carolyn might not consider
bitch
to be an insult. She spent years trying to prove herself tougher and smarter than every male agent she ever met. I did the same, so I know. Some days, you only know you’re doing it right because of the number of times some criminal calls you a tough bitch.”

Isaac laughed briefly. He had heard Carolyn and Charlotte talking about that before, laughing and joking and calling each other “bitch” like it was a pet name or a term of respect between them.

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’ll feel the same about the word
slut
, or some of the other terms that were used,” he said, losing his smile.

Charlotte looked at him. “Right. That’s definitely personal,” she said, frowning. “Could it be an angry former boyfriend? What about the angry former girlfriend of a current boyfriend?”

Isaac was startled by that idea. “Why would you think it was a woman, using insults like that?”

Charlotte eyed him pityingly. “Isaac, women call other women sluts all the time. They do it particularly if they’re trying to steal that woman’s man. Didn’t you notice how many times Nina called poor Sara names when she was trying to get Dash into her bed and Sara was in the way? Try to keep up.”

He shrugged and grimaced, rubbing one hand over the stubble on his face. For a truly excellent reason, a glorious morning-lovemaking session with Carolyn where she had burned both him and Grange to ashes, he hadn’t found time to shave this morning.

“Yeah, I noticed that,” he admitted.

“Everyone noticed that,” Charlotte emphasized. “So, all I’m saying is don’t limit yourself. Don’t rule out a female as a suspect.”

Isaac nodded his head once. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting sharply, and Charlotte laughed.

Chapter 11

When Carolyn walked into her office at ten o’clock, she was calm, at least on the outside. Inside, she felt angry and upset.

During the most incredible night of her life, she had been systematically targeted. All her training as an agent couldn’t have prepared her for being victimized herself. It was an appalling, dehumanizing experience.

Sara and Charlotte, women she considered both colleagues and friends, were busy wiping fingerprint dust off her desk and cabinets. The silver canary cage that always stood at the window was eerily absent.

“Not quite done in here,” Sara said cheerfully, slapping at the black fingerprint dust smeared on her sleeve. Her long, fine blonde hair was up in a high ponytail, and she looked about sixteen years old, even in her prim business suit. “This awful stuff gets all over everything. Don’t look yet.”

Improbably, Carolyn felt like laughing.

Sara grinned back at her. “Well, I guess you can look, since I’m sure you’ve seen worse, but we did want it cleaned up before you got in. Charly has to get to your place to help Conn and Burgess, but I said I needed her to help me for at least an hour and Dash okayed it.”

“Which Conn loved, I can tell you,” Charlotte commented, tossing her filthy cloth into a garbage pail set up by the door. Her cell phone rang, playing “Take This Job and Shove It.”

“That would be Conn’s ring,” she said, her bright brown eyes twinkling, and they all shared a laugh. “I’d better get going before he blows a gasket.”

“That’s the fourth call from him in five minutes,” Sara said as Charlotte walked out talking on the phone and waving goodbye.

Carolyn shook her head. She enjoyed Charlotte’s irreverent humor, but Conn might not feel the same way.

“I’m so sorry about Pavarotti,” Sara said gently. “I know how you loved that little guy.” She wiped her hands a final time, then sealed up the garbage bag.

Carolyn sighed and blinked back tears.

“His singing was so sweet,” she agreed. “I’ll really miss having him here.”

“I don’t know why these stalkers have to kill little birds,” Sara said, reminding Carolyn that Sara’s own recently caught stalker had killed a small bird and left it in her bed to frighten her. “I said to Dash that there must be a stalker’s handbook, or something, because they all seem to do the same horrible things.”

Carolyn started. “What did Dash say?” she asked slowly.

Grange walked in the door. “Dash immediately asked if Martin Brent was still in custody because it’s a hell of a nasty coincidence,” Grange said.

Carolyn was almost afraid to ask, but she asked the question anyway. “Well, do we know?”

“He’s out on bail.” Grange looked furious. “The trial begins in a couple of weeks and he isn’t allowed to leave the state, but his lawyer says he went to visit his sister just outside of Houston. We’re checking on that now.”

“But Dash said we shouldn’t worry,” Sara said instantly. Her voice was firm, but her soft, pretty features were marred by a heavy frown. “If he doesn’t show up for the trial, half the state will be out looking for him. He won’t get away.”

“No, he won’t get away,” Carolyn said, automatically trying to soothe her friend. She knew how upsetting it was for Sara to think about her flight from Martin Brent or the upcoming trial. Sara put on a brave front, but it had to be bothering her.

Sara gathered up the last of the cleaning cloths, bagged them, and started to pull the big wheeled garbage pail behind her as she left the office.

“Meet for lunch at Morrissey’s?” She asked on her way out.

Carolyn smiled. “Yes, that sounds good,” she said. “Thanks.”

When Sara was gone, Carolyn turned to Grange. “If this is Martin Brent causing more trouble, Dash will strangle him. Nothing could stop him this time. You know that, don’t you?”

“If Dash wants a chance at Brent he can goddamn stand in line,” he growled almost absently as he checked a reminder on his organizer.

She leaned over to straighten some of the papers that Sara had piled high on her chair. The bottom two filing cabinet drawers had been emptied, their formerly well-ordered contents dumped on the floor. She would probably be sorting and filing for the next two weeks to put her office back in order, and only then would she be able to tell what was missing, if anything. What a mess!

Grange had a strange half-smile on his face when she glanced his way. His silver eyes appeared lit from within.

“What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“I like watching you.”

She could feel a flush climbing her cheeks. She wasn’t some innocent young schoolgirl, but he could make her blush like one. He was so very male.

“Grange.” It was supposed to be a protest, but it came out breathless and just shy of an invitation.

He was close beside her instantly, and she didn’t even see him move. Damn, the man was fast. And he smelled so good. Just the clean masculine scent of his skin, no heavy colognes for Grange, but it was enough to make her well-pleasured pussy throb in recognition.

He slowly ran his big hands up and down her arms, gradually bending his head. The anticipation popped and sizzled in her blood long before he captured her mouth with his. The kiss was just beginning to heat up when there was a shocked exclamation from the door.

Carolyn broke away from Grange’s mouth and gazed in horror directly into her mother’s widened eyes.

“Carolyn, this is your place of work,” her mother said primly. The perfect society hostess, she was dressed impeccably in classic ivory silk and beige linen, wearing the single strand of pink pearls that was her signature.

Grange stiffened, and Carolyn felt an unexplainable frisson of fear. “Mother, this is Granger Hamilton, one of the owners of DIG. Grange, this is Annalise Winston, my mother.” Carolyn was quick to perform the introductions, knowing that her mother would expect the social niceties to be observed.

Drawing himself up to his full height, he stepped forward with Carolyn’s hand clasped in his. “You are just in time to congratulate us, Annalise,” he said smoothly, wearing his most charming smile. “Carolyn has agreed this morning to be my wife.”

Carolyn admired his clever phrasing. He made it sound like he had proposed only moments ago, in a perfectly appropriate setting while wearing tailored wool trousers and a starched white shirt. Instead, he had proposed hours ago, stark naked on his knees beside his partner in their threesome, after indulging in an exhausting, incredible night of total debauchery. Her mother would be shocked.

There was a small silence as her mother openly stared. Carolyn wanted to sink into the floor, dreading her mother’s response, but Annalise Winston surprised her.

“Well, that’s lovely,” she breathed, clasping her hands to her silk-draped bosom. “Oh, Carolyn, you’ve been keeping a delicious secret.” Her eyes roved up and down Grange, clearly approving what she saw. “We’ll announce it at the charity ball on Friday night, of course. Your father will be so thrilled.”

Carolyn could feel her life sliding out of control, but she was at a loss as to how to salvage it. “But, Mother,” she tried, as Grange’s fingers tightened warningly on hers, “I’m not coming to the ball. Father and I argued when he told me he wants me to marry—”

“Yes, that sweet Randall,” her mother interrupted, waving one beautifully manicured hand. “Your father quite likes him, but you and I both know you’d be bored with him inside of a month. He’s a terribly nice boy, but really, not the type for you. I have my eye on him for Linda’s daughter, Chelsea. I’ve always felt that another agent would be the perfect choice for you, dear. Plus, the announcement will certainly liven up the ball. It’s always the same people and the same conversations year after year at these events. They don’t even seem to realize it.”