A Time to Die. BEVERLY BARTON
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the table where the others had congregated, she hurried out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Sawyer glanced from one agent to another, then eyed the meal in front of him. “I just got off the phone with Cara Bedell of Bedell, Inc.,” he told them.
“Someone hasn’t killed that worthless brother-in-law of hers, have they?” Deke asked. He’d met Grayson Perkins when he’d been called in as a backup agent for Domingo Shea the last time Bedell, Inc. had used Dundee’s services.
“As far as I know, Mr. Perkins is alive and well,” Sawyer said. “But it seems there was a bombing at the headquarters of Helping Hands, one of Cara Bedell’s pet charities. The building is in downtown Chattanooga. The bomb exploded on the first floor and seriously injured three employees, one of whom has since died.”
“And Ms. Bedell wants Dundee’s involved because…?” Geoff asked.
“Because the president of Helping Hands received a threatening phone call shortly after the explosion.”
“Was the threat directed at him?” Geoff asked.
“Her,” Sawyer corrected. “Yes, the threat was directed at the president as well as at Ms. Bedell and the organization itself.”
“Why would anyone threaten a charity organization?” Lucie shook her head, bouncing her copper-red curls. “You know, we’re living in a really screwed-up world.”
“How astute of you, Ms. Evans,” Sawyer said sarcastically. “Bronson, I want you and Monday to drive over to Chattanooga as soon as you finish lunch and can go home to pack your bags. I’ll leave it up to the two of you to choose who guards Ms. Bedell and who guards the Helping Hands president.”
“Who’s going to head up the investigation?” Deke asked.
“The Chattanooga PD,” Sawyer replied. “Lieutenant Bain Desmond is in charge. As for who will be Dundee’s investigator—”
“You could send me,” Lucie suggested.
“I could, but won’t. You already have an assignment that starts tomorrow. I’m calling in Ty Garrett to handle the investigation for Dundee’s.” Sawyer looked from Deke to Geoff. “You two have worked with Ty before. You know he’s good at what he does.”
Geoff reached in his pants pocket, pulled out a quarter and grinned at Deke. “Flip you for the heiress. You call it.” He tossed the coin.
“Tails,” Deke said.
Geoff caught the quarter in his palm. Grinning broadly, he said, “Heads. Sorry, old chap, but I get Ms. Bedell.”
Deke shrugged. It didn’t matter to him. One client was the same as the other. One woman no different than any other.
“I’ll have Daisy put together some preliminary info and e-mail it to both of you. You should have the report by the time you arrive in Chattanooga,” Sawyer said.
BAIN DESMOND met the two Dundee agents at three-thirty that afternoon, when they arrived at Helping Hands’ headquarters. The CSI team was working the scene when Geoff and Deke arrived.
“What can you tell us?” Geoff asked as they rode up in the elevator with the police detective.
“The bomb was placed in a storage room. If the maintenance man hadn’t been in there getting some supplies, he’d be alive. The bomb probably wasn’t intended to kill anyone. The area of destruction was limited, so we surmise it was detonated as a warning.”
“A warning to Helping Hands, its president and Ms. Bedell. Is that right?” Deke asked.
“From what the caller said, yeah, that’s right.”
When the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, Lieutenant Desmond emerged first. “The ladies are pretty shook up. I told Cara…Ms. Bedell, that hiring around-the-clock bodyguards probably wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. And what Ms. Bedell wants, she gets. Money talks,” Desmond grumbled.
“Her money shouts over at Dundee’s,” Geoff said.
Desmond nodded. They followed him down the hall to where one of the office doors stood wide open, revealing three women. When they entered, one woman turned and faced them, one glanced over her shoulder at them, and the other remained seated, partially blocked from Deke’s view by the other two.
He recognized Cara Bedell immediately: tall, statuesque and redheaded. Although not as pretty as Lucie Evans, there was something about Ms. Bedell that reminded him of the Dundee agent. They were approximately the same height and size, but Lucie was a few years older and her hair a deeper, darker shade of red.
Ms. Bedell moved forward, her hand outstretched. “You’re from Dundee Security?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Deke shook her hand. “I’m Deke Bronson.” He hitched his thumb in Geoff’s direction. “This is Geoff Monday.”
“I assume that Sawyer explained the situation, and you understand that I want you two on the job until we find the person behind today’s bombing,” Cara said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Deke replied.
She turned to Desmond. “I expect daily updates from the police department. And I want any information you can legally share with Dundee Security to be shared with Mr. Bronson and Mr. Monday. Understood?”
“Yeah, I understand,” Desmond said, a flash of irritation in his gaze.
Cara Bedell turned to the tall, slender African-American woman with curly black hair and striking hazel eyes. “Take tomorrow off, Toni. I don’t want anyone coming to work here until we get heavier security in place.”
“No problem, Ms. Bedell. After what happened, I’m not eager to come back.” Toni turned to the seated woman. “Jafari is waiting for me downstairs. I’ll call you at home later. Are you’re sure you’re all right? You don’t need to go to the ER or…?”
“The medics checked me out,” the woman said. “I’ve got a bruise on one knee and a slight bump on my forehead. I’m fine. Go home. Call me tomorrow. I should know by then if we can return to work Friday.”
Deke and Geoff watched Toni as she exited the office, both quite aware of how attractive she was. Then Deke faced the seated woman. Beautiful didn’t quite describe her. Exquisite might come close. Blond hair hung below her shoulders in soft, loose curls. Blue eyes were framed by thick, dark lashes. A peaches-and-cream complexion was touched with a fading summer tan. He blinked once, twice and then closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, certain his vision was playing tricks on him.
When he reopened his eyes, his gaze connected with the lady’s. Momentarily robbed of breath, he stared at her. It had been ten years, but seeing her again, he felt as if it had been only yesterday. Hers was the face that had haunted his dreams ever since that bloody day in the capital of Gadi when she had gotten caught in the crossfire between his team and Babu Tum’s guards.
She rose from the chair, leaning heavily on a decorative wooden cane with a bronze handle. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She took a step toward him, then held out her free hand.
“I’m Lexie Murrough, the president of Helping Hands.”
CHAPTER TWO
LEXIE GAZED at the big, dark man standing in front of her, and an involuntary shiver rippled along her nerve endings. Sexual awareness, plain and simple. Although not actually handsome—he was far too rugged to be good-looking—he possessed a raw, masculine magnetism that overwhelmed her senses. She couldn’t remember ever having had such a strong reaction to a man.
Before Mr. Bronson could shake her hand, the stoutly built blond guy stepped between them and grinned at her. “I’m Geoff Monday. I believe I’m your bodyguard, Ms. Murrough.”
Deke Bronson grasped his co-worker’s shoulder and urged him aside. “No, you’ve got that wrong. I’ll