Playing His Dangerous Game (4 page)

There was nothing for one long minute, and then the phone was slammed down.

Shara winced.

Royce smiled.

The phone rang again almost instantly.

‘Ignore it,’ Royce said again.

This time Shara shook her head. ‘I think I’d better answer it. It might not be him.’

‘Then why didn’t they leave a message?’

‘I don’t know. But there’s one way to find out, and that’s by answering the phone.’

‘No. Not yet.’

‘This is my home, not yours. I’ll do what I like. You can’t tell me what to do.’

Royce shook his head. ‘This is your father’s house, and he’s put me in charge.’

Again it was too late for Shara to do anything. The answering machine picked up for a second time. The silence lasted
for a couple of minutes this time, before the caller slammed the phone down again.

Royce watched Shara, who was studiously staring at her clenched hands.

Her hair really was magnificent. As dark as a raven’s wing and as glossy as the finest satin. His fingers itched to touch it—so much so that he curled his fingers into his palms.

The curve of her cheek was exposed. The skin was milky-white, absolutely flawless and ridiculously vulnerable.

How a cheekbone could be vulnerable Royce wasn’t exactly sure, but that was how it struck him.

The phone rang a third time.

Royce studied Shara carefully.

She was staring at the phone as if it was going to jump up and bite her.

Her body language was easy to read. It was painting a very different picture from what she’d told him that morning.

‘You lied to me earlier,’ he said, in a conversational tone that hid the anger tightening his gut.

He valued honesty above everything else. Not only did he see too much dishonesty in his line of work, but after what Fiona had done to him any form of deception was abhorrent to him.

Her head snapped around. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Royce crossed one ankle over the other, rested his hands on his thighs. ‘You said your father was over-reacting to the situation, but it’s clear to me that you’re terrified of your ex-husband.’

She looked startled, then wary. She issued a laugh that fell well short of being humorous, although he was pretty sure that was what she was trying to convey because she’d unclenched her fists and made a concerted effort to look relaxed.

‘Nonsense,’ she dismissed.

‘It’s too late to deny it. I believe what I see above what I’m
told. My eyes don’t lie, whereas people do. I saw your reaction just now.’

She tossed her head. ‘What you saw is my frustration at being told not to answer the phone in my own home.’

Royce shook his head. ‘Sorry, but I don’t believe you.’

She looked about to say something, but at that moment the answering machine picked up.

Shara looked away from him, back to the phone.

Royce grew rigid in his chair as a male voice started speaking. Although
speaking
was a polite word for the filth that came spewing down the phone line.

Foul language and even fouler content.

About how he had no intention of letting Shara go. About the fact that he’d rather kill her first.

Royce tried to look past the surface stuff to the deeper meaning and intent beneath the words.

What he was listening to convinced him that Steve Brady was a sociopathic bully.

Bullying was all about power and control.

Bullies also typically targeted people who tended not to retaliate, who in fact responded in such a way as to feed their negative behaviour.

Which surprised him.

Shara was not that kind of person.

Their short acquaintance demonstrated that she gave as good as she got. He couldn’t imagine her allowing herself to be bullied.

But then everything wasn’t always as it seemed.

As he should know.

He’d fallen for a woman who’d pretended to be something she wasn’t.

He knew first-hand that looks could be deceiving.

In Shara’s case he’d seen her fear a moment ago.

It had been genuine. He would bet his career on it.

The question was: why was she pretending she wasn’t?

There had to be a reason.

There was
always
a reason.

That was something he’d learned well before starting the Royce Agency. People always had a motive for doing something.

Royce rose to his feet.

Shara’s head shot in his direction so fast he was surprised she didn’t pull a muscle. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m going to talk to him.’

Her face showed alarm. ‘Don’t do that!’

Royce ignored her and picked up the phone. ‘Brady …?’

The tirade was cut off mid-stream and replaced with screaming silence. Royce let the quietness drag on. He was used to situations like these, and immune to the resulting tension.

He doubted it was the same for Brady. No doubt the silence was playing havoc with the other man’s nerves.

As he’d expected, Brady broke the silence first. ‘Who is this?’

‘My name is Royce. I’m a friend of Shara’s.’ He spoke calmly and confidently, although his voice hardened as he added, ‘And I’m warning you to leave her alone or you won’t like the consequences.’

His response was more silence. Uncertain silence. Obviously Brady was trying to come to grips with the sudden turnaround in events.

‘My God! It didn’t take the little slut long to move on, did it?’ His voice was vicious. ‘You’re not the first, you know. Why don’t you ask her just how many men she slept with while she was married to me?’

Royce frowned. If he ignored the content of Brady’s words for a moment and concentrated on the way he spoke he would be able to learn a lot.

One, although his tone was vicious Brady had spoken more calmly than Royce would have given him credit for, given his
previous tirade. And, two, Brady didn’t wait for an answer but hung up the phone—softly.

Both of those things suggested he was very much in control.

Surely that hinted at the fact that Brady was telling the truth?

He’d seen enough musical beds in the homes of the rich and famous during his time running the Royce Agency to know that that kind of behaviour went on all the time.

It was an attitude that sickened him. Although he was no monk, and had had his share of women over the years—some might even say more than his fair share—Royce always remained faithful to the woman he was with.

For however long it lasted—which admittedly wasn’t very long.

Why would he want to tie himself to one woman when there was a world of women out there to enjoy?

Back in his parents’ day getting married and having children was the done thing. These days things were much more flexible. Some couples got married. Others chose to live together. And others remained single, either through choice or circumstance.

Royce planned on being one of the latter.

But while he
was
in a relationship he treated his woman with respect.

Royce glanced at Shara.

Beautiful, sexy Shara.

Maybe she
had
been sleeping around. Maybe that was why her marriage had turned sour.

It was possible.

But it didn’t really matter.

He was a bodyguard, not the morality police.

Nothing excused Brady’s behaviour. Abuse of any kind—whether it was verbal, emotional or physical—was inexcusable.

And what he’d just heard—both on the answering machine and during his conversation with Brady—convinced him that Shara had been abused in some way.

A wave of fury rode up his spine.

He was going to take a great deal of pleasure in bringing the other man to his knees.

‘What the hell did you do that for?’ Shara demanded as Royce dropped the phone back into its cradle.

Royce swung in her direction. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Shara jumped to her feet and then wished she hadn’t. She was so angry she was shaking, her heart beating nineteen to the dozen. ‘You had no right to do that. No right at all.’

She began to pace, her sandals making a slap-slap sound on the tiles, then fading to nothing as she crossed the Aubusson rug.

Thoughts swirled through her head, one after the other, so fast they made her dizzy.

One thought stood out amongst all the others: all her hard work had just been undone in one fell swoop.

Anger ripped through her. Grinding to a halt in the middle of the Aubusson rug, she slammed her hands down on her hips and glared at Royce. ‘Who gave you permission to butt your nose in like that? This is precisely the situation I wanted to avoid. You’ve ruined everything, damn it!’

Royce gave her a puzzled look. ‘Perhaps you’d like to explain what it is you think I’ve ruined, exactly? Because I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.’

‘Everything!’
Shara raked a hand through her hair, unsurprised to find it was shaking. ‘This is precisely the reason I didn’t want a bodyguard in the first place. I don’t need some stranger interfering in my business. This is
my
situation and I’ll deal with it
my
way.’

Royce didn’t look the least bit impressed by her outburst.
He was still standing by the phone. Still looking cool, calm and completely unruffled.

The fact that he was so in control while she was falling apart at the seams infuriated Shara no end.

‘First, when he hired me to protect you, your father gave me permission to handle the situation
my
way. That’s the only way I do business. He knows that. I have to have full control.’ He folded his arms across his impressive chest. ‘And, second, if what I’ve seen in the last twenty-four hours is any example of the way you’ve been dealing with the situation then it’s entirely ineffective.’

Pressure built inside her head until Shara thought she was going to explode. She could hardly stand still, but at the same time found that her muscles were locked so rigidly tight she was incapable of moving.

Here we go again.

Another man telling her what to do.

Another man trying to smack her down.

Well, he could try. But he wouldn’t succeed.

She glared across the distance separating them. ‘How dare you? You conceited oaf! You’ve known me for all of two seconds and yet you’re an expert on me and my way of dealing with situations? As far as I’m concerned your so-called expertise has just made the situation one hundred times worse. I don’t care who you are. I don’t care if you’re one of my father’s paid minions. From now on keep out of my way—or there will be hell to pay!’

Satisfied that she’d told him exactly what she thought of him, Shara spun on her heel and stormed out of the lounge room.

She stomped up the stairs to her bedroom and snatched up her handbag and car keys. She had no idea where she was going, but she had to get out of here.

How dare’d Royce put her down that way?

Frankly, she thought she’d done one hell of a job.

She was proud of the way she’d gathered enough courage to leave Steve. She was equally proud of the way she was ignoring his harassment.

It wasn’t easy.

Turning the other cheek was damned difficult at times, but she was trying to let his behaviour bounce off her.

So Mr Just Plain Royce could put
that
in his pipe and smoke it!

Exiting the house via the back staircase, Shara breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the garage undetected. She slid the key in the car’s ignition and was halfway down the driveway when she gave a victorious pump of her fist in the air.

She was no more than half a kilometre from the house when she stopped smiling. A glance in her rear vision mirror turned her smile into a frown.

There was a black sedan four or five cars back.

The same kind of black sedan that Steve drove.

Every time she made a turn the black sedan made a turn.

Every time she changed lanes so too did the other car.

Which, of course, could mean only one thing: Steve was following her.

Her teeth came together with an audible snap, and a shiver of fear snaked serpent-like down her spine.

‘Oh, no,’ she said.

Another quick glance in the mirror showed that the black sedan had closed the distance between them. It was now only three cars back, and getting closer all the time.

Her hands clenched on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.

‘You stupid fool,’ she muttered out loud.

When was she going to learn that making decisions in the heat of the moment always backfired on her? When was she going to learn that when she was emotionally upset she almost always made the wrong decision?

She’d accused Royce of making the situation worse not twenty minutes ago, and then what had she done?

Stayed in the house where she was safe?

Oh, no—not her.

She’d had to try and prove a point by sneaking out.

Had she thought of the possible consequences?

No.

Had she waited until she’d calmed down before deciding what her next step should be?

No again.

She hadn’t just landed on the snake’s head by accident this time; she’d jumped on it all by herself.

‘Damn it. When will I ever learn?’

Royce peered through the front windscreen.

He’d been quite content to follow Shara at a distance. Close enough to intervene at the first sign of trouble, but far enough back to let Shara think she’d made a clean getaway.

It could prove interesting.

Where would she go? Who would she meet? What would she do?

The more he knew about her patterns of movement, her routine, the better prepared he’d be to deal with whatever the future held.

Information was power.

That wasn’t supposition; it was fact.

But that attitude belonged to five minutes ago.

He’d abandoned the hang-back strategy thirty seconds ago.

For one simple reason.

Shara was being followed.

There was no doubt about it.

Every time Shara made a turn the black sedan several cars behind her also made a turn.

Every time she changed lanes the black sedan changed lanes.

Logic suggested this wasn’t a random incident. Logic suggested that Brady had been watching the house and when Shara had left he’d followed her.