Guardian of Her Heart. Linda O. Johnston
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she had been thinking.
“But why?” Jeremy asked almost peevishly. “We’ve hired the best security there is. What’s going on here?” He took a position beside Wally’s desk. His arms were folded, and a scowl puckered his long face.
Lt. Bronson rose. He looked directly at Dianna. “Because you’re in danger.”
“What?” Wally drew his bulk from behind the desk and crossed to stand protectively beside Dianna. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Even if she saw Farley, that doesn’t necessarily mean—”
“Oh, it means a lot,” the cop said.
Dianna felt both annoyed and gratified. Wally had said if she saw Farley. One of her own bosses, her friend, apparently doubted her. It brought back some unpleasant memories.
But for the local police to have sent someone undercover to keep watch, they, at least, must be taking her seriously. What a relief, after being ignored so blatantly before. It felt strange, though, to think she had an ally of sorts in this irritating cop.
Dianna stood and walked toward the window behind Wally’s desk. Looking down toward the courtyard, she could not see the pushcart where she had first viewed the man.
She turned back toward the sofa where he sat once more, one muscular leg crossed nonchalantly over the other in his snug jeans. The security chief sat ramrod-stiff beside him, the tight expression on his bearlike face all but shouting his annoyance.
“Why do you think I’m in danger, Lieutenant?” she asked.
“My commander got a call from Officer Treya, a community relations officer here, at the Van Nuys Station. He told me about the Englander Dispute Resolution Center, and that the late Representative Englander’s widow works here. He also said you’d informed him of seeing your husband’s alleged murderer here a couple of times.”
“He’s more than an alleged murderer,” Jeremy contradicted. “Dianna saw him shoot Brad Englander.”
Only half-conscious of the gesture, Dianna placed her hand on her abdomen. Brad was not the only victim of that horrifying scene…. “But everyone’s innocent untilproven guilty in a court of law,” she recited in a monotone, watching a hint of amusement play in Lt. Bronson’s deep blue eyes. “Right, Lieutenant?”
He nodded and stood. “But I’m inclined to believe that an eyewitness is probably right. Which brings me back to why I’m here. Officer Treya asked a detective to look into the situation, but, as you know, Mrs. Englander, no one, not even the feds, has been able to nab the suspect. But Glen Farley’s been implicated in some other situations. One was recent—the bombing of a redevelopment area in downtown L.A.”
Dianna’s heart rate speeded up as if she had pressed on an accelerator. “I hadn’t heard that Farley was involved.” She kept her breathing even. “But I’m not surprised.” And that explained why, this time, she was being taken seriously.
“It’s just speculation so far,” the police officer said calmly. “In any event, we’re placing a few strategic undercover officers to keep an eye on the Englander Center, just in case.”
“Just in case what?” demanded Cal Flynn.
“Just in case he decides that one bombing in the L.A. area isn’t enough. Or—” he continued, looking directly at Dianna “—if he thinks that murdering one Englander isn’t enough, either.”
Chapter Two
Travis almost wished he hadn’t left his knives outside, locked in the cart. Juggling would help right about now.
He shoved his hands hard into the pockets of his jeans—his damn restless hands, hands that wanted to touch the lovely woman who’d gone so pale before his eyes. To help her to her chair and steady her now as she stumbled over the few steps to get there.
To hold her tight and comfort away the fear that made her gnaw, with perfect white teeth, on her lush bottom lip.
“We need you to cooperate, Ms. Englander.” His voice barked more gruffly than he’d intended. She was simply another citizen. One under his protection. No one under his protection would be harmed ever again, nor would he allow himself to care about one more than others. He’d learned that lesson well. He would simply do his job. And this time, he would do it right.
“I’m sure she’ll cooperate.” The slimeworm Flynn was talking, a hell of a lot more placatingly than before. His turf was being invaded by the cops, and he clearly didn’t like it one damned bit. But he could hardly tell the LAPD to go chase itself—at least not in so many words.
With only the slightest squaring of her slim shoulders beneath her dark suit jacket, Dianna Englander seemed to regain control. She sat, then crossed one slender ankle over the other.
Her skirt was short. Or was it that her legs were long? In either case, their endless, shapely forms tantalized Travis.
He abruptly drew his gaze back to her face. Solemnity raised her small, slightly pointed chin.
“Look, officer.” Jeremy Alberts had taken Dianna’s former position near the window. “Of course we’ll cooperate. But we need to make sure the Center and its business aren’t compromised. It’s not unusual these days for buildings to have beefed up security, and we did that. But if people learn the police have us under special surveillance…well, that’s different.”
“Of course,” Travis echoed sardonically. “We wouldn’t want to compromise your business just to save a life or two.”
The other guy from the building, Wally Sellers, who was walking back toward his desk chair, made a sound as if he had swallowed his spit wrong.
“That’s uncalled for.” Dianna Englander rose to face Travis. Her bright blue eyes were ablaze with indignation. There was no sign of her earlier fear. That, at least, was good.
“Sorry,” Travis said, though he knew he didn’t sound in the least chastened. “We don’t intend to harm the Englander Center. There’ll be less possibility of that if you cooperate.”
“Of course,” she acknowledged with a curt nod. “What would you like me to do?”
Travis had done his research. He knew that Jeremy Alberts and Wally Sellers were partners in A-S Development. A-S had formed a public-private partnership with the City of Los Angeles to build the Englander Center at the edge of the Van Nuys civic center, to extend the redevelopment of the area. Only it wasn’t called Englander Center then. It was renamed for the U.S. Representative whose redevelopment efforts caused it to be built after he was murdered during its construction two years ago.
“First thing,” he said, “I’d like you to give me a tour of Englander Center.”
“I’d be glad to later,” Jeremy Alberts interceded, taking a step toward Travis. The fiftyish man, whose hair had gone silver, was obviously used to being in control. Travis wondered idly if his partner Wally ever got his way in an argument. As between the domineering Alberts and his chubby, uneasily smiling partner, Travis suspected Wally had his mind changed often if it dared to hold a differing opinion. “We have people coming in for a meeting now, but I’ll show you around soon as they’re gone. Or perhaps you would like Mr. Flynn to do it.”
“Thanks,” Travis said, “but I meant Ms. Englander. I want her insight on the place, plus I need for her to point out exactly where she thought she saw Farley.”
“I’ll be glad to show you where I did see Farley,” she asserted. Good. She’d taken the bait. This way, she’d insist on giving him the tour, to try to assuage any doubt he had. And he didn’t have much. If anyone would recognize Glen Farley, it was Dianna Englander.
“Fine,” he said. “There’s more you can fill me in on, too.”
“Like what?” Her clear blue gaze challenged him. Though she’d said she would cooperate, she seemed to expect him to come up with