Page 38 of Big Bad Wolfe

He found and confiscated another disc from inside her kitchen telephone, a third from under the deck railing outside, and a fourth beneath the nightstand in her bedroom. He took them out to the garage to store them where they’d pick up no signals, quickly returning.

Floaty unreality merged with stunned, scared disbelief. She pressed a hand to her churning stomach. “Those were transmitters, right? Someone hired that PI to bug my house. He was spying on me. Even in mybedroom.”

“Yeah.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I suspected it after Dallas and I checked Polson out. He’s exclusive. Expensive. Has a rep for being extremely good, extremely thorough, and getting results.”

“So they’ve overheardeverything, our conversations, our intimate … Out on the patio, when we …”

“Yeah. They probably have pictures, too. Shot long-lensed from the beach.”

“Pictures?”Bile surged in her throat.

He cupped her nape, drew her close to his comforting heat. “Think back. They didn’t overhear anything that’ll hurt our case. In fact, if questions arise about our motives regarding Casey’s guardianship, the … ah … kiss between us will help us prove we’re … ah … involved enough for me to grant you custody. But …” His grip tensed. “If Polson was hired by our intrepid congressman, then Reynolds knows you suspect him of murder.”

“Why would Reynolds bug my house? He has no idea of what I suspect. No, this is right up Richard’s sleazy alley,damn him.”

“Nevertheless, from this second until everything is wrapped up and tied with a shiny fucking bow, I’m your 24/7 personal bodyguard. You don’t go anywhere, do anything, or talk to anyone without clearing it with me first.”

“I—” Her fingers curled into fists. “It’s too much. Just too … I need … Zane, please go downstairs and leave me alone for a while.”

To his credit, he didn’t question or argue, or try to feed her useless platitudes. Because right now,nothingwould make her feel less violated. Less afraid.

“All right.” A strong, soothing palm stroked down her spine. “Holler if you need me.”

* * *

Outside in the breezy early afternoon, Zane carried another yard refuse bag to the side of the garage where Jillian kept her recycling bins. He could relate to the need for solitude when stressed.

Leaving Jillian alone to regroup, he’d channeled his rage into productivity. He’d gone downstairs and immediately called Dallas, who was on the way with a state-of-the-art security system. And a print-dusting kit. Polson was probably too smart and experienced to leave trace evidence, but Zane had to cover all the bases.

After he’d stuffed the yard debris bin and four refuse recycling bags with ruined plants, and thrown away the smashed flowerpots and trellis, he’d raked the grass and swept the porch and sidewalk.

Jillian’s yard now looked perfectly clean, perfectly neat … and stripped barren of her uniquely colorful presence. Which gave him an odd hollow sensation he didn’t care to examine too closely.

He consulted his watch. Nearly ninety minutes had passed. Dallas would be here shortly, and he should let Jillian know. His back teeth ground together. Okay, yeah, and he was worried about her.

He loped upstairs and strode down the hallway, sneakered tread silent, his gut tied in knots. God, he hoped like hell she wasn’t up here crying. He had a very bad feeling Jillian’s tears could wreck him.

Her bedroom door was ajar, as was the door to the attached bathroom, but both were empty. He followed the hallway to Casey’s room, stopping short outside the open doorway.

Jillian was in Casey’s bedroom, her back to him, folding a tiny pair of jeans into a backpack sitting on the bed. As he watched, she added several coloring books and a box of crayons.

“Jillian?”

She jumped and whirled, guilt stamped all over her startled expression. “Zane.” She shifted between him and the backpack, twitched aside a tumbled strand of hair. “I … ah … didn’t hear you. I was just— Um …”

“I know exactly what you’re doing.” He stepped into the room, his pulse ratcheting into high gear. Keeping a careful grip on her shoulders, he moved her aside, glanced down into the pack. Along with Casey’s clothes and a few toys, she’d stowed his allergy medicine, a wad of cash … and the kid’s passport. “You’re packing a ‘go-bag.’ I’m betting you now have one for yourself stashed in your closet, too. Planning to run, are you?”

Anxious violet eyes went huge, her slender shoulders rigid in his grasp. “Only if … Only as a last resort.”

“I can help you. I can protect you both.” Throat tight, he shook her gently. “But not if you run. Go outside the law, and you blow it for all of us—including Casey.”

“What if the legal way of doing things doesn’t land on our side? What if—” Her lips trembled. “I won’t let Richard and Brooke take him. Iwon’t.”

“They’renotgetting him.” He tugged her into his embrace, wrapped his arms around her. “Promise me you won’t bolt.”

She shuddered. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Zane. I can’t make that promise.”

Frustration nailed him, followed by a vicious punch of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since that fatal freshman year of college …sick, helpless terror.“You willing to leave your job, your home, your friends and family—and never see them again? Lie, cheat, even steal if necessary? Because that’s the reality when you drop off the grid.”

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