Page 39 of Big Bad Wolfe

“I know,” she whispered unsteadily. “But if leaving is what it’ll take to keep Casey safe, then I’ll have to go.”

“Listen to me.” He held her tighter, trying to ignore the way she felt so damned right in his arms. She and Casey would never live as fugitives, live in fear while Zane still had breath in his body. “Iwillhandle this. Iwillprotect you. But you need to trust me, Jillian.”

“I do. I do trust you.” She looked up at him, her irises shadowed by pain. That too-discerning gaze compelled his. “You just need to learn to trust yourself.”

He let her go and stepped back, physically and emotionally. “I called Dallas a while ago. He’ll be here any minute with a top-notch security system, and we’ll install it. Within a few hours, nobody will sneeze in the vicinity of your house without us saying ‘gesundheit.’ Dr. Dick and his sleazy gun-for-hire don’t stand a chance.”

Her look of appreciation embraced him in warmth. “I’ll call Dad and see if he can pick up Casey from the center and take him to his place so Casey won’t see the damage, or the alarm installation. Then I can clean up the yard while you and Dallas install the system.”

“I already cleaned it up.”

Appreciation evolved into stunned gratitude. She bit a trembling lower lip. “Okay, then. Um …” She cleared the thickness form her voice. “While you and Dallas do your thing, I’ll replace my plants. That is, if I have permission to go to the garden center. I can also pick up your suit from the cleaner’s. I’ll be in downtown Cape Hope, within full sight of people at all times.”

“I think that’ll be safe enough. Just check in with me when you arrive at each location, and again before you head back to the house.”

A jaunty golden brow arched in blatant mischief. “Aye, aye,Special Agent.”

Zane grinned at her. “Now that’s exactly how I like my women.”

“Really?” She strode past him, her surreptitious, playful pinch on his ass making him jump. “Well don’t get too comfortable with it, Champ.”

He burst into laughter as she strolled out. This resilient, gutsy woman continually surprised and delighted him.

* * *

The next morning, Zane consumed a most excellent breakfast of French toast and sausage—which unbeknownst to Jillian, Casey surreptitiously snuck pieces of to Aragorn lurking beneath the table. When the kid caught Zane watching, Casey offered him such a merry conspiratorial grin, Zane couldn’t rat him out.

After breakfast, they all trooped outside and climbed into her car. Zane backed out of the driveway, admiring Jillian’s superb job of resurrecting her flower gardens while he and Dallas had connected the security system. She’d brought the DOA grounds back to vibrant life, as if it had never been destroyed. And Zane had somehow found himself promising to assemble and install the new trellis she was having delivered later today.

Zane headed toward the Hope Center, covertly glancing at Jillian. She looked like an alluring mermaid today, in a sundress the same blue-green as the Pacific, her hair intricately braided in the back and banded off with a circlet of tiny shells, and silver seahorses dangling from her ears. He hadn’t found it necessary to mention that he’d also stashed a tracking device on her Cooper, another in her purse, and a combo bug/tracker in her cell phone. No sense spooking her more than she already was. The last thing he wanted was for her to snatch the kid and bolt.

She’d never need to know. And she’d never think to ask, because she was a trusting soul.

Jillian trusted him. A muscle twitched in his jaw. People who trusted too much got hurt. His hands tightened on the wheel. He’d make damn certain nobody hurt her.

Including himself.

Chapter 7

Zane parked in the small lot at the Hope Center. The 60’s era low-slung, faded blue clapboard building showed definite wear and tear, but the grounds were well-tended and tidy. Jillian had explained they were in the middle of a three-pronged remodeling and addition project that would be phased in as they raised the final funds from the benefit gala, allowing for the least disruption to the children’s programs as possible. Jillian’s father Dean was heading up the work crew pro bono.

Zane had familiarized himself with both the old and new building blueprints and the school’s evacuation plan, seeking potential ambush areas and memorizing possible entry and exit points in the event anyone attempted a move on Jillian. He was also running a background check on all of Dean Ramsay’s employees who’d been on site.

Zane was coming in as a volunteer who’d upgrade the outdated computer system and transfer all paper records to electronic files. He could investigate Deb’s activities prior to her death, ask pertinent questions of the staff, and bodyguard Jillian. Only Loucinda Wallis, Jillian’s boss, had been told he was a Fed. Zane wasn’t exactly hiding it, but he wanted to choose when and how to reveal himself.

As prepared and alert as when he headed into combat, he followed her and Casey through a locked employee-only side door. As a bonus, the office position would give him minimal contact with all the rugrats,thank you, Jesus.

The interior was as time-worn as the exterior but just as scrupulously clean, and smelled faintly of lemon floor wax and the aroma of spicy tomato sauce drifting from the cafeteria.

Two mischievous-looking little girls sashayed along, holding hands and giggling. “Hi, Casey,” they chorused.

“Hey, Susie and Jen,” Casey said. “I think I smell pasgetti for lunch.”

The darker haired one nodded. “Yep. But it’s pronouncedspaghetti.”

“Girls,”Casey muttered, wrinkling his nose.“Always think they know everything.”

“Get used to it, kid,” Zane muttered.

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