Serve ‘N’ Protect by Tee O’Fallon

Chapter Seventeen

Hammering and voices woke Cassidy. The room was bright—too bright to be early morning. She squinted then hissed in a breath as the goose egg on her cheekbone made itself known.

Touching her face gingerly, she confirmed the bruise was bigger now and swollen. She’d have to dig out some makeup to cover what would likely be fifty shades of purple. Now, if she could only hide from her family so they didn’t get a glimpse of it. Otherwise, she’d be subjected to nonstop interrogation over how she’d gotten it. They’d only try to talk her into selling her house and moving back home. Not. Independence was important to her, as was getting back on her own two feet. Literally, and not without her third foot—the damned cane.

Her eyes flew open as she caught sight of the clock. It was one in the afternoon. She’d slept the entire morning away.

The bed beside her was empty, as was the floor. No Markus and no Ghost. After tying her robe around her waist, she went to the window. Markus stood on her porch, looking yummy in snug black jeans and—

What the—?

Two trucks were parked at the curb, one belonging to a window repair company and the other to a security systems firm.

She became dizzy as virtual dollar signs flew from her meager bank account. This couldn’t be happening.

Repairing the window was a basic necessity, but a security system was most definitely not in her budget, even after last night. It was financially impossible.

Annoyance at Markus’s presumption pushed her to clump quicker down the stairs than was prudent. She’d thank him for whatever miracle he’d performed in getting the window repair guys to the house so quickly, but he should have consulted her before calling a security company.

After shrugging into her jacket, she went outside and hobbled across the lawn, wishing she could move faster and hoping to intervene before any pricy gadgets were installed in her house.

Markus stood by the broken railing, supervising the installation of new glass in the empty space that used to be a window. Another man busied himself screwing something on the siding immediately adjacent to the front door.

Ghost bounded off the porch, greeting her with a happy smile and a tail wag. “Morning, Ghost.” A quick pat on the dog’s head and she beelined for Markus, readying to give him a big chunk of her mind.

His face was obscured by dark sunglasses and the shadow cast by the brim of his ball cap. The jacket he wore made his broad shoulders even broader, not that she was checking out his amazing body or anything along the lines of lusting after the guy. Certainly not that.

At her approach, he turned and smiled. “Morning.” Beneath the glasses, she glimpsed his eyes dipping to take in her bruised cheek and his jaw went rigid. “How’s your cheek?”

Ignoring him, she lit into the man working at the door. “Whatever you’re doing, stop. I didn’t order a security system, and I can’t afford to pay for one.”

The man stopped what he was doing, glancing from her to Markus, which only ticked her off more. Clearly, he didn’t know who actually owned this house.

“Have you looked in the mirror this morning?” Markus whipped off his glasses, frowning. “You can’t afford not to.”

She parked her fists on her hips, her cane dangling off the ground. The annoyance she’d been experiencing compounded by the second, as the man working at her door decided to ignore her and went back to doing whatever it was he’d been doing. “I only have one client at the moment and right now I can’t even manage that job. My priority is a new laptop, not an alarm system.”

Ghost sat between them, flicking his ears back and forth and making upset, mewling little noises that were more in sync with a cat than a dog.

“Cassidy.” Gently, Markus took her arm, leading her to the far side of the porch. Only then did she glimpse the other team of workmen measuring the opening of John’s broken window. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. Consider this a loan until you get back on your feet. As for the laptop, one is being delivered here later this afternoon.” She opened her mouth to object when he held up a hand. “Consider that a loan, too.”

Loans. Just what she needed, to owe more people money. The mortgage on her Craftsman alone had about tapped her savings dry.

Every shred of her common sense was at war. After being burglarized and attacked, a security system might be the only way she’d ever get another good night’s sleep in her own home. But money was tight. And another thing…

It had been less than twelve hours since her window had been broken, although they had to have been here for a while now, which meant Markus had to have been awake for hours. “How did you get all these companies here so quickly?”

He shrugged. “I can be very persuasive.”

“I’ll bet.” She could only imagine the extra money he’d spent to get these guys out here on a moment’s notice, let alone the home delivery of a laptop. Knowing he was right and that it would be futile to argue at this point, she waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Fine.” If he’d set up her account to include expensive 24/7 monitoring, that was something she could always cancel.

Two hours later, both hers and Markus’s windows had been repaired, and she had a brand-spanking-new security system, including a new deadbolt on her kitchen door. They’d tried out the new system and then gotten in a workout, the effects of which had not only loosened her leg muscles but worked off most, if not all, of her residual annoyance at Markus. Ghost lay snoring on the living room rug while Markus worked at the kitchen counter, still reviewing video footage.

He’d insisted on hanging out at her place, saying he was too bored to work alone at John’s house. In reality, she suspected he didn’t want to leave her alone. If she stopped fuming long enough to set aside her dismal financial condition, it really had been thoughtful and sweet of him to go out of his way for her like that. While she’d been sleeping the morning away in a cloud of dreamless bliss, he’d been arranging with no fewer than three companies to clean up her mess.

Measurements in the cookie recipe she’d been reading blurred. The bottle of vanilla extract in her hand shook and all of a sudden she couldn’t breathe. If Markus and Ghost hadn’t come when they did…

Who knows what that burglar would have done to me.

She stood at the counter, drawing in deep, calming breaths and trying not to think about how much her face throbbed.

A year ago, she hadn’t been so lucky. What she ought to be was grateful that she wasn’t lying in a hospital bed again.

As she took more cookie ingredients from the pantry, her stomach growled, and she tore open a bag of chocolate morsels, tossing back a handful. The rich, earthy chocolate melted in her mouth. Not exactly a healthy lunch, but what the heck? After last night, she was entitled to break nutrition protocol.

She licked her lips, swiping off remnants of chocolate and imagining she could still feel the taste and gentleness of Markus’s mouth on hers. The kiss had been brief, and granted, she’d been somewhat in shock at the time, but there was no doubting the effect it had on her. Her toes had curled. Yup, curled.

It had to have been the adrenaline and fear. That combination made people do all kinds of crazy things. That must be why he’d kissed her. Right?

With Markus, she might never know. To say he was emotionally wrapped up tight was an understatement. But beneath it all, he was a good man. Even if the Secret Service wasn’t paying her a thousand bucks a week to watch over him while he recuperated, she would have done it anyway because she’d liked Markus from the start. That was, after she’d gotten over thinking he might be a serial killer.

With no laptop, she was already well into baking what would be nearly a dozen varieties of cookies. Leaning over, she pulled a tray from the oven, inhaling the warm smells of vanilla, chocolate, and brown sugar as she set the tray on a rack to cool. She turned to find Markus watching her—specifically, her backside. “Are you looking at my ass?”

“Yes,” he admitted with a straight face. “From a purely physiological standpoint. Based on your height and body type, you should have more muscle back there. We’ll have to work on that, too.” He dug into an open bag of butterscotch chips and popped some into his mouth. “How many different kinds of chips do you need?” He indicated the row of dark and white chocolate, butterscotch, cinnamon, and caramel chips. “I didn’t even know there were so many kinds.”

She smiled at the look of horror on his handsome face. “Did you know there are more than fifteen different kinds of cookie chips available on the market?”

He grimaced, as if the thought alone made him nauseous. “There’s enough sugar here to keep the entire American Dentistry Association in business for a decade and give the anti-carb world a coronary.”

“I know, but it’s only once a year.” Good thing, what with her bank account at an all-time low. “Good chocolate is expensive, so I probably should have taken a year off from Christmas Cookie Week.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I could never disappoint all the kids. The look of joy on their little faces is totally worth it.” She retrieved the first basket of cookies she’d made, already wrapped in red cellophane and tied off with a big green bow. “This batch is for you.”

He peered through the cellophane. “I don’t eat coo—”

At first, he only stared, his face a blank mask. Then his expression turned into an ever-changing kaleidoscope of emotions.

His brows bunched and his forehead creased. For a moment, she thought he was angry with her at what she’d done. Given what he’d told her about his childhood, she’d only been trying to do something nice for him, but when his jaw clenched and his throat began working, she feared she’d made a mistake. A big one.

…

Markus’s throat clogged with so much he couldn’t verbalize, and he nearly choked.

The basket was filled to the brim with Hershey’s Kisses cookies, the same kind his mother used to make. But that wasn’t what had robbed him of his ability to speak. It was because Cassidy had remembered what he’d told her then gone out of her way to make these cookies. A tiny gesture on her part, perhaps, but to him… Again, his throat tightened and he had to swallow repeatedly or risk choking on his tongue.

“If you won’t eat them,” she said, reaching for the basket, “I’m sure I can find someone who will.”

“No!” He grabbed the basket. He’d no sooner let her give these cookies to someone else than he’d eat his own foot. “I’ll eat them.”

“Promise?” Cassidy pointed a finger at him. “I know how you feel about carbs, but I don’t want them going to waste.”

“I promise.” To show her he meant business, he tore into the wrapper, grabbed a cookie, and shoved it into his mouth. Chocolate hit his taste buds first, followed closely by brown sugar and vanilla. It had been over thirty years, but they tasted exactly as he remembered. Like heaven. He closed his eyes, smiling as he groaned.

“Good?” Cassidy bit her lip, a worried expression taking over her features, as if she really didn’t know what he’d say.

The cookies could have tasted like cardboard for all he cared. What mattered was that she’d made them for him. “Kick-ass good.” He fished another cookie from the basket, adding, “Thanks, Mrs. Fields,” referring to one of the original 1970s franchise cookie queens. “They’re perfect.”

The beatific smile on her bruised, swollen face kindled an unexpected warmth in his chest, one that fanned outward, growing steadily until he was grinning back like an idiot while he chewed the rest of the carb-loaded cookie.

“I also wanted to make you Mallomars,” she said, turning to set the timer. “Just so you could try them out. But every attempt I’ve made never turns out right. I can never get the marshmallow to stick properly to the cookie layer, and the chocolate always winds up a goopy mess.”

He fished another cookie from the basket. “Can’t you buy them?”

“For some reason, you can’t get them around here. Never understood why, but it breaks my heart.” For emphasis, she placed her hand over her heart.

Markus bit into another cookie, savoring one of the only good things he remembered of his childhood.

After polishing off two more cookies, he refocused on Cassidy’s work dilemma. “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do on my laptop?” he asked.

They’d already tried, unsuccessfully, to install some of Cassidy’s accounting software on his laptop, but Uncle Sam apparently didn’t trust its employees and had installed too many administrative restrictions to load unsanctioned software.

“No, but thanks. I’ll wait for the new one to get here.” She picked up her phone and blew out a heavy breath. “I guess there’s no putting this off.” She cued up a number then put the phone to her ear. “This is Cassidy Morgan,” she said when her call connected. “May I speak with Walt Teedle? I need to—” She paused to listen then, “Thank you.”

Based on the way she sucked in her lower lip between her teeth and began tapping one finger on the edge of the phone’s cover, this wasn’t a conversation she was looking forward to.

“Hi, Walt. It’s Cassidy Morgan. I’m calling for a couple of reasons.” Grimacing, she squeezed her eyes shut. “As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, I still need those other documents in order to complete your audit. I still haven’t received them, and I can’t—” She rolled her lips inward as she listened. “Of course I remember. Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to earn that bonus, but as things stand right now, I can’t finish the audit. There’s no supporting documentation for the losses you reported over the last two years.”

Still listening, she began pacing around the kitchen. “I understand your frustration,” she continued, “but unfortunately I can’t, uh, I can’t take your word for it. That would be unethical, and it’s going to be my name and signature on the last page. I’m sorry, but the numbers in your annual income statements just don’t jibe with any of the receipts and unpaid invoices you’ve already given me. I’m sure everything will be fine. If you can find those documents, that would take care of everything.”

Markus had been about to cue up the last fifteen minutes of the Saudi video but paused. Sounded like the client was asking Cassidy to do something inappropriate. He glanced up to see her blow out what looked like a huge breath of relief.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “I appreciate that. Really, I do. But I also need to make you aware of another small problem.”

When she began describing the burglary, Markus hit the play button. The video’s clock indicated it was nearly midnight, nearing the end of his and Ghost’s shift. Some guests had already left the party, while others were just arriving. He’d heard from the replacement K-9 team that the party had gone on until 4 a.m.

Cassidy continued her conversation, one hand absently stroking Ghost, who’d come in from the living room to follow her around the kitchen. Less than three weeks ago, they’d been strangers, all of them. He never would have expected to be sitting comfortably at her kitchen counter, munching away on cookies as if he’d lived here for years. Even Ghost seemed thoroughly at home, making it clear by how attentive he was to Cassidy that she was now part of his pack. At work, he and Ghost shared a partnership. After work, at home, they were still a team, but it was more a duo of friends. Somehow, their duo had become a trio.

Strangers had become friends, but it wasn’t the same as the closeness he shared with Kade, Matt, and the other K-9 guys. Cassidy’s friendship was laced with an intimate comradery that he didn’t have with anyone else. Now, he couldn’t stop noticing the way all the Christmas lights glinted off her golden-blond hair, making it shine like the sun. How her lips were lush and berry-sweet.

Or how sexy she was in those tight purple cycling shorts.

Something the guy on the other end of the phone said made her lips twist with worry, and he couldn’t stop staring at her mouth.

Je-sus. He had about as much self-control as a dog in a butcher shop.

Markus refocused on the video. In the last five minutes of his shift, his replacement arrived in a Secret Service vehicle. Then he watched himself and Ghost getting into the Interceptor and leaving. He closed the laptop, staring at the cover. It was official. Another dead-end bites the dust.

“Thank you, Walt,” Cassidy said, smiling. “My new laptop should be arriving later today, and I promise you I can get back up to speed quickly. And again, I’m so sorry for the delay.” As she ended the call, her smile faded.

“How’d it go?” Markus asked.

“Regarding the burglary? Or the fact that not only will his audit be even more delayed but that some of his personal financial information is on my stolen laptop?”

“Both.”

“Surprisingly well, actually. Especially considering how quickly he’d wanted this done. He’s such a nice man. He kept asking if I was okay and if there was anything he could do. I told him I was fine and that I didn’t lose all the spreadsheets I’d made since I backed up all the critical data on the external hard drive. He was totally understanding and had no problem giving me an extension.” She set the phone on the counter and picked up a metal spatula, using it to transfer cookies to a basket. “He promised to send me what I need but I swear, their recordkeeping system must be one hot mess. Either that, or…” She broke off, staring at the tray of cookies.

“Or what?”

“Oh, nothing.”

But he could tell it was something. He was tempted to pump her for more information about whatever she’d referred to as being unethical, but he also respected her for maintaining her client’s financial privacy.

She nodded to his laptop. “Did you finish the video?”

“Yeah.” Disgusted with how much time he’d wasted, he pushed the laptop a few inches away. “And there’s absolutely nothing helpful here.”

“This is the video of that shift you and Jack Barnes did together, right?”

He nodded. “I was hoping I’d see something that I missed, but nothing out of the ordinary happened.”

“Is it possible the killer was after any Secret Service cops and not necessarily you and Jack Barnes?”

“Possibly,” he admitted. “But I’m not ready to accept that.”

“Why not?” She set down the spatula.

“Because this cop-killer hit two cops from the same department. He did this for a reason, some motivating incident that involves the Secret Service. Could be random, but there’ve been no other attacks on agency personnel. So if it’s not random, why me and Jack? Except for that one night we worked together, I didn’t even really know him. Our only link is on this video.”

“Okay, so stick with the video for a second. You said nothing happened”—she hooked her fingers into quotation marks—“out of the ordinary. Does that mean something did happen on that shift?” He shook his head. “Then what made you say it that way? Why didn’t you just say, ‘nothing happened’?”

“Because nothing happened that would have signed our death warrants.”

She raised her brows. “So what did happen?”

“Two people making out in a car. Happens all the time, especially at parties where the alcohol’s flowing nonstop.”

“Maybe to you it was nothing, but since you’ve got nothing to go on other than this video, why not look into it? Whatever it is?”

“We already did. Both men in the car were interviewed.”

“How did you know who to interview?” she asked. “Did you run the license plate and track down the owner?”

“The car had diplomatic tags, but it was a moot point since Jack and I recognized one of the men. He was our POC—point of contact—for the event.”

“Who was he?”

“His name’s Mansfield. He works for the Saudi embassy.”

“Is he American?” Cassidy asked, and Markus nodded. “Is that unusual, an American working in a foreign country’s embassy?”

“Maybe a little, but it’s not unheard of.”

“And the other man?”

“Jack and I didn’t get a good look at him. McMurray said that Mansfield gave up the name. That guy was interviewed, too. Nothing suspicious came of either interview.”

“Can I watch that part of the video?” She came to his side, resting her forearms on the counter and leaning in closer to the screen. “Maybe I’ll see something you missed.”

Markus doubted it, but what the hell? He flipped open the cover, then shifted the laptop so she could view the video better. As he did, their shoulders touched and remained in contact. The top of her head grazed his chin, her hair soft and smelling clean and fresh. She always smelled good, and he couldn’t stop himself from drawing in a deep breath that took him right back to a place he shouldn’t be. In his bed, with his hand on her waist, hers on his chest and— Shit.

When he found the footage he was looking for, he hit the play button. “This is from the camera in the back of the house. Jack had just radioed in that one of the cars in the rear parking lot was rocking. He wanted to make sure it wasn’t being broken into.”

They watched as Markus and Ghost met up with Jack by the back door. Together, they approached the vehicle, a dark-colored BMW, partially illuminated by light spilling out from the house and the small lit portico. Jack went to the driver’s side while Markus and Ghost walked up to the right side of the car. The rocking motion was enough to be picked up on camera. Simultaneously, they shined their flashlights through the windows. A few seconds later, they clicked off.

“And that was the only thing that happened?” Cassidy asked.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “But again, that’s not really out of the norm for a party. We were just grasping at straws.”

“Who did the interviews?”

“The local police.”

She frowned. “Not McMurray or another Secret Service officer?”

“No. McMurray said they were all swamped working other aspects of the investigation, so he delegated some of the work to the locals.”

“Is that normal?”

Actually, no, it wasn’t. But then she ran her tongue over her lower lip, and the movement ignited an urge inside him to haul her onto his lap and kiss her senseless. But her question got his brain churning, and it must have shown on his face.

“What?” she prodded, leaning in closer, and God, did she smell good.

Tough to focus with her standing so close and her pretty scent filling his lungs with every breath he took. “Like any occupation, not everyone can be the best at what they do. Not everyone is the best interviewer. It takes more skill than most people realize.” And it was one of many reasons why Kade was so kick-ass at what he did.

Maybe they needed to reexamine the lead.

He tugged his cell phone from his pocket and called Kade. As soon as Kade answered, Markus requested the two men be re-interviewed and that Kade be the one to do it.

“You got it,” Kade responded. “Call you when it’s done.”

As Markus ended the call, Cassidy’s phone chirped with an incoming text. She looked at the screen then regarded him thoughtfully, tapping the phone’s cover with her finger.

He knew that look. Something was up, and it involved him. Or it was about to. “What?”

“My family has a big Christmas get-together on Christmas Day. We start in the morning with breakfast and keep right on going through dinner.” Her fingers flew over the keypad. “Do you want to come?”

The hopefulness in her question was impossible to ignore, and it gutted him.

Whereas Kelly had somehow managed to get married and have kids, that kind of relationship eluded him then as it did now. There was a time when he’d accepted a few of his sister’s invitations. Not anymore. He’d felt more uncomfortable than a porcupine in a balloon factory. Family gatherings weren’t his thing, so he’d stopped trying. Kelly was always saddened by his declinations but given that she’d lived through Steven’s brand of childhood hell right alongside him, he knew she understood.

Hurting Cassidy wasn’t his intention, but there was no alternative. “No, thanks. Ghost and I plan to stay in.”

He caught the brief but unmistakable hurt blooming in her eyes, and that gutting sensation he’d experienced a moment ago turned to one of stabbing pain. Oh, man.

Markus shut his eyes for a moment, wishing he could say the words she wanted to hear but couldn’t. What he could do was teach her something McMurray had ordered him to do. And after last night, he’d feel a whole lot better if he did.

“Let’s go shooting.”