Murdock's Last Stand

As they headed out the door, Murdock laid his hand on Cassidy’s back. “I hear you got stuck with teaching the ropes to the new Dundee recruits.”

“Yeah, I drew the short straw.”

Cassidy grinned, something Murdock had seldom seen the man do in all the years he’d known him. Cassidy was a somber man, with some sort of demon chasing him.

“You on for pool tonight?” Murdock asked.

“Not tonight,” Cassidy replied, the smile still in place. “I have all-night plans with a lady.”

“A lady, huh? Well, be careful, Bubba. Ladies are the most dangerous kind of female known to man.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“A gentleman never gets kicked where it hurts and tells.” Murdock slapped Cassidy on the back as the two men chuckled.

The cool autumn air hit Murdock the minute he stepped out onto the Atlanta street. He threw up his hand to wave goodbye to Cassidy and the others, then headed for his Camaro.

The drive home to Locklin Street took less than fifteen minutes. He parked the Z28 in the tenants’ garage that took up the entire ground level of the old building. Besides his loft apartment, there were four other apartments below him, two each on the second and third floors. Using the service elevator, which none of the other residents used, Murdock headed upward. The moment he emerged from the elevator, a sense of unease hit him square in the gut. He lifted his jacket back over the hip holster and unbuckled the flap. He hadn’t lived forty-six years, most of it in life-threatening situations, without acquiring a keen instinct for danger.

“No need to draw your weapon,” the familiar voice said.

Recognizing the voice, Murdock released a tightly in-drawn breath and turned to face his former CIA contact. “What the hell are you doing here, Burdett?”

After glancing around at the darkened corridor, Burdett nodded toward the door of Murdock’s apartment. “I just drove over from Huntington, Tennessee, and I’ve been waiting for you here nearly an hour. Before we talk, I need to see a man about a dog and then I wouldn’t object to a drink or two.”

Murdock chuckled as he unlocked the door and ushered Burdett inside the open expanse of his private domain. After flipping a light switch that controlled the recessed wall fixtures and illuminating the huge living room, he locked the door behind them.

“Bathroom’s through those double louvered doors.” Murdock used his thumb to point the direction. “Jack Daniel’s is all I’m drinking these days.”

“Fine with me. Make mine neat.”

While he prepared the drinks and waited for Burdett to emerge from the john, Murdock wondered why a CIA Deputy Director was paying him a nighttime visit. He hadn’t seen or heard from Rick Burdett in nearly two years.

When Burdett came out of the bathroom, he glanced around the apartment, his gaze taking leisurely note of everything from floor to ceiling. “Don’t tell me you decorated this place yourself.”

“All right, I won’t tell you.” Murdock handed Burdett his whiskey. “So, are you going to tell me what you’re doing here or are we going to play nice-nice all night?”

Burdett took a sip of the liquor, then without invitation, sat on the tan leather sofa that rested on the wooden floor, squarely in the middle of the large room.

“Lanny McCroskey is alive.”

“What?” Murdock felt as if he’d been hit on the head with a sledgehammer.

“Lanny didn’t die twenty years ago the way we thought he did, the way you said he did.” Burdett took another sip of whiskey. “We figure he was wounded. Hurt pretty bad. But he lived, God bless his damned soul. He’s spent the past twenty years in a Zarazaian prison.”

“How do you know? Hell, don’t answer that! Just tell me if you’re sure. One hundred percent sure.”

Rick Burdett pulled a photograph from his coat pocket and handed it to Murdock. “This was taken less than a week ago.”

Murdock studied the snapshot of a skinny, old, gray-haired man. If not for the eyes, he wouldn’t have recognized his former sergeant. “God! He’d have been better off if he’d died.”

“Have you been keeping up with the latest news on the Zarazaian civil war?”

“Yeah. I know Juan Sabino’s kid has taken over where his old man left off and he’s whipping Ramos’s ass.”

“Ramos is preparing for the worst and he wants to make sure that if he has to abdicate his position, he can take as much money with him as possible. He’s asking $100,000 in exchange for Lanny.”

“Jeez!” A hundred thousand was a lot, but by cashing in some bonds, emptying his savings and, if necessary, selling his new Camaro, he could scrape up the cash. “I can get my hands on that much, but it could take me several days.”

“Lanny’s daughter has the cash and she’s willing to pay for his release.”

“Lanny’s daughter?” Murdock frowned, remembering. “Oh, yeah. He talked about her all the time. Her and her mother. He really cared about his ex-wife and about his kid, too. So, the girl’s all right, huh, if she’s willing to help—”

“Catherine Price is no girl,” Burdett said. “She’s thirty-six, a widow and was reluctant at first to even talk to me about her father.”

“Thirty-six. Damn. Guess I still thought of her as a young girl.”

“Here’s the deal,” Burdett said, as if he didn’t want to waste any more time. “Ramos is demanding the money in cash.”

Murdock let out a long, low whistle. “That’s a lot of money for one of your men to carry around in a briefcase all the way to Zaraza.”

“There’s a bigger problem. One of my men won’t be taking the money. Catherine Price will be.”

“Why the blue blazes would you—”

“Ramos’s stipulation. He’s demanded Lanny’s daughter bring it herself. For each prisoner, Ramos has asked that a specific family member bring the ransom money. He’s a wily old fox trying to cover his ass by not getting any governments directly involved in the exchange.” Burdett paused momentarily, but when Murdock didn’t respond, he continued. “I told Ms. Price that you would accompany her to San Carlos for the exchange. She’ll arrive tomorrow evening, escorted by one of our agents, who will turn her and the hundred thousand over to you.”

“I don’t like it. Taking Lanny’s daughter into that cesspool. The last thing he’d want would be for that girl of his to put her life in danger to save him.”

“She’s going to Zaraza to get her father out of prison. She’s the type of woman who’s doing this because it’s the honorable thing to do, not because she loves Lanny. But regardless of her motivation, she needs a bodyguard. I was sure you’d want to be her protector.”

“What time does her flight arrive?”

“Five-thirty.” After finishing off his whiskey, Burdett set the glass on a brown marble coaster that rested on the big, square, oak coffee table. “You two will fly straight to Peru day after tomorrow. Arrangements have been made to then take you and Ms. Price, by private plane, directly into San Carlos. One of our contacts will meet you at the airport down there.”

“And I suppose since she’ll have cash on her, Ms. Price will be under my protection from the moment she arrives tomorrow. Which means Lanny’s daughter will be staying here with me until our flight for Peru.”

“Yeah. And you better roll out the red carpet while she’s here. Catherine Price is the type of woman who expects first-class treatment. She’s a thoroughbred. A Southern lady, through and through.”

“Just like her mother.” Murdock remembered how Lanny had gone on and on about his Mae Beth. She’s too good for me, he’d said. Don’t know what a lady like her ever saw in an ole Tennessee hillbilly like me. But damn if she didn’t love me as much as I loved her.

“You knew Lanny’s ex-wife?” Burdett asked.

“I met her once. After I came back from Zaraza. I went to see her, to tell her about Lanny’s last day. And about how much he still cared about her and their child. She didn’t shed a tear, but I could tell she was hurting bad. My guess is that she still cared about him, too. Maybe when Lanny comes back, the two of them can—”

“Mrs. McCroskey died nine years ago.”

“Then Catherine is all Lanny has left.” Murdock sighed. With a look of resolve he said, “You can be damned sure I’ll take good care of her.”

Catherine scanned the airport crowd, searching for Murdock. Although she knew the agent who’d accompanied her would know Murdock on sight, she wondered if she could pick him out from all the other men. A former mercenary. A man like her father, to whom killing was second nature. Surely, that kind of life would show on his face.

Placing his hand under her elbow, the young agent urged her forward. “There he is,” Agent Hendricks said.

“Where?” Catherine asked.

“Straight ahead, on the left.”

A dozen men waited for disembarking passengers. After surveying several, her gaze halted on one man. She instinctively recognized Aloysius Murdock. A knot of apprehension formed in the pit of her stomach. And a purely feminine unease settled deep within her. He was everything she had expected. And everything she had feared. Big. Burly. Indeed, a mountain of a man, with enormous shoulders and huge arms. He stood at least six foot six, towering over the others. And there was a world-weary look in his hazel brown eyes as their gazes locked. A shudder rippled through her at his intense scrutiny. And she realized in that one instant that the man who was going to be her bodyguard on a trip into hell had recognized her just as she had him—instinctively.

Chapter 2

He would have known her anywhere. Could have picked her from a lineup of a hundred women. She had class written all over her. Catherine Price might as well have had twenty-two Karat Gold stamped on her forehead. She was the genuine article. He had known enough women in his time to recognize a real lady when he saw one. He remembered Lanny saying his little girl was beautiful, just like her mama, but he hadn’t paid much attention to a father’s praise of his only child. Murdock had no idea what she’d looked like as a kid, but Lanny’s little girl had grown up to be one fine-looking woman.

Her gaze met his and locked instantly. An odd sensation hit Murdock in the gut, as if a hard fist had knocked the air out of him. Her blue eyes, so much like her father’s, held him spellbound for a split second. She tilted her head, and he noted an air of snobbery in her expression, as if she’d just encountered something unpleasant and couldn’t quite figure out the mannerly way to react. With mixed emotions bombarding him, he shook off the crazy feelings swirling around inside him and marched forward to meet Lanny’s daughter.

Agent Hendricks, carrying a briefcase manacled to his wrist, followed Catherine’s quick steps as she headed straight toward Murdock. He realized that, without introductions, she knew exactly who he was. She’d recognized him instantly, as he had her.

When she drew nearer, he noticed how tall she was, a good six feet in her sensible two-inch navy heels. And although she was trim in her simple navy suit, her hips and breasts were rounded nicely, accentuating her tiny waist. Her shiny brown hair was secured in a large, neat bun at the base of her neck. A pair of large gold hoops shimmered in her earlobes and a heavy gold bracelet dangled on her left wrist.

“Mr. Murdock?” she inquired as she paused directly in front of him.

“Just Murdock, Ms. Price.”

Agent Hendricks stepped in front of Catherine and extended his hand. “Brian Hendricks,” he introduced himself. “As soon as I see your ID, I can hand Ms. Price and her briefcase—” he lifted his wrist to display the brown leather satchel “—over to you. Just standard procedure.”

Murdock whipped out his Dundee’s identification badge. Hendricks inspected the ID quickly.

“You have the key, don’t you, sir?” Hendricks asked.

Swallowing hard as she broke eye contact with Murdock, Catherine watched his huge hand as it delved into his pocket and produced the handcuff key. Then hurriedly, she rummaged in her purse for the key to the briefcase, wanting to make sure it was safe.

“Is that the key to the briefcase?” Murdock asked.

“What?” Momentarily flustered, Catherine hesitated before she replied. “Yes. Why?”

Without asking permission or making any comment, Murdock took the key from her. His big, callused fingertips brushed over the soft, smooth flesh of her palm. She sucked in a deep breath at the contact.

“Better let me keep that.” He realized that she’d felt it, too. That electrical current snapping between them at a mere touch. Damn! He didn’t like this. The last thing he had expected was to be attracted to Lanny’s daughter.

Catherine glowered at him, but didn’t respond.

Hendricks cleared his throat. Murdock hurriedly uncuffed the man and took possession of the briefcase containing a hundred thousand dollars in U.S. bills.

“Good luck, Ms. Price,” Hendricks said.

“Thank you.” Catherine extended her hand to the agent.

The minute Hendricks took her hand in his, the urge to grab her away from the drooling boy made Murdock act hastily. Without so much as a goodbye, he slid his arm around Catherine’s waist and drew her to his side. She tensed immediately and released Hendricks’s hand. Before she could voice a protest, Murdock maneuvered her around swiftly and headed her toward the baggage claims area.

“I don’t think it’s necessary for you to manhandle me, Mr. Murdock!” Catherine pulled away from him and stopped dead still.

Oh, but that was where she was wrong, he thought. You started out with a woman the way you intended to go. Catherine needed to realize that, from here on out, he was running the show.

“I didn’t realize I was manhandling you. I saw no reason to prolong your goodbyes to Agent Hendricks.” Murdock took a couple of steps forward, then paused when he noticed Catherine hadn’t moved. “The sooner we get you and this briefcase out of the airport, the better.”

She moved then, quickly and straight to his side. “You don’t honestly think I’m in any danger here in the Atlanta airport, do you?”

Murdock placed his arm around her again. This time she didn’t protest and fell into step beside him.

“You’re safe, as long as you’re with me.”

“Confident, aren’t you, Mr. Murdock?”

“Just Murdock, Catherine.”

He grinned when he felt her flinch at his use of her given name. Surely she didn’t expect him to call her Ms. Price. He wasn’t one of her students and he sure as hell wasn’t one of the refined Southern gentleman she dated.

He liked the fact that she was tall. Most women barely came to his shoulder, even in heels. But standing only six inches shorter than he, Catherine could look him square in the eye. Close enough to spit, he thought. And something told him that during this trip together, the time might come when she’d do just that—spit in his eye! Catherine might have been raised to be a lady by her Southern belle mother, but there had to be something of Lanny in her. Some streak of wildness. He’d bet his last dollar that a hot-blooded woman was hidden beneath that cool, controlled facade.

At the baggage claim, she pointed out her black suitcase and Murdock lifted it quickly, then hurried her out of the airport and to his car.

On the drive to Murdock’s apartment, their conversation consisted of such mundane matters as the details of their 8:00 am flight to Peru and the weather. When the silence between them reached the awkward stage, Murdock turned on the radio, setting the dial to a jazz and blues station. A mournful voice sang about love, loss and heartbreak.

Occasionally Catherine stole quick glances at Murdock’s chiseled profile. Hard chin and jaw. Clean shaven, with only a hint of a light aftershave. Short, neat, dark-brown hair. Confined alone with him in the small quarters of the car’s interior, she felt overwhelmed by his massive size. Aloysius Murdock was huge. And every ounce was pure muscle.

He was a much larger man than her father, who, although tall, had been lanky. But the aura of danger and power that surrounded Murdock reminded her of Lanny McCroskey. She had adored her big, macho father, even though she’d seen little of him during her young life. He had called her his kitten and even after the divorce, he had remembered her with expensive birthday presents, Christmas gifts and occasional phone calls. She had tried to hate him, had pretended that she never wanted to see him again, but when the news came that he’d been killed in Zaraza, she had mourned his death. Even now, after twenty years, she had conflicting feelings about the man who had fathered her. She both hated and loved him. But despite everything, she was willing to pay a hundred thousand dollars and perhaps risk her life to save him.

Something told her that men like her father—and men like Murdock—inspired those mixed feelings in their women. Their wives, daughters, sisters, lovers and perhaps even their mothers. Most women were drawn to big, bold, dangerous men and yet their common sense warned them to flee from the bad boys of this world. Her mother had learned, the hard way, that loving such a man caused immeasurable heartache.

Catherine had avoided men who even vaguely reminded her of Lanny, choosing instead to date the academic types. Rodney Price had been Lanny’s exact opposite. A quiet, gentle, soft-spoken gentleman who had enjoyed a night at the ballet as much if not more than an afternoon at a football stadium. She and Rodney had been a perfect match and she had been happy during the four years of their marriage. Her one regret, after Rodney’s death, was that he hadn’t left her with a child.

“We’re here,” Murdock said, his voice a baritone roar.

Catherine jumped at the sound. Jerked abruptly from her thoughts, she glanced through the windshield just in time to catch a glimpse of the renovated brick building. Murdock wheeled the Camaro into the ground-level garage and whipped it into a parking slot.

After lifting the briefcase from the floorboard, he rounded the hood and opened the door for Catherine. She mouthed a thank you, but refused his offered hand. He dropped his big paw, grinned and left her standing by the open car door. She slammed the door shut when he walked toward the trunk, then waited at his side until he’d retrieved her suitcase.

“I’ve got the loft apartment,” he said. “So, I use the old service elevator. Just follow me.”

“Have you lived here long?” Making conversation was something Catherine excelled at as a normal rule. Years as a teacher at Huntington Academy before she’d become headmistress of the school had taught her the art of speaking. She had charmed many a student and many a parent.

“I moved to Atlanta about eighteen months ago and found this place about a year ago.” He didn’t tell her that he’d bought the old building as an investment. “I completely renovated the loft.” He opened the iron-bar door of the service elevator and stood back, waiting for her to enter. When she eyed the contraption and hesitated, he chuckled. “I promise it’s safe.”

Reluctantly, she entered the elevator, then plastered a phony smile on her face, as if to say, See, I’m not afraid. But she suspected that he knew she was leery—of the elevator and of him.

The smooth ride up to the loft surprised her, but not as much as the spacious, tastefully decorated apartment that spread out before them when Murdock unlocked and swung open the double entry doors. The living room, kitchen and dining room were one huge area of painted white walls on the interior and old brick on the exterior side. Gleaming hardwood covered the floor and big wooden beams ran the expanse of the ceiling. An overstuffed leather sofa and twin chairs created a cozy, yet masculine living area in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Pleated shades allowed for privacy or sunlight. On the opposite side of the room an oil painting of a clipper ship tossing about in a storm hung on the wall behind the black lacquer table which was surrounded by six brass-and-steel chairs that mimicked Victorian bentwood chairs.

“Your apartment is…well, it’s wonderful.” Catherine wished she had been able to keep the surprised tone out of her voice. “You didn’t do this yourself. I mean, surely you hired someone to—”

Murdock slammed the door. Catherine jumped. Dammit, why was she so nervous? she wondered. Every unexpected sound made her overreact.

“Why do you assume I hired a decorator? Don’t you think a guy like me could put together something like this?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you—”

“Sure you did.” Murdock walked past her. “No need to be on your best behavior around me or try to be mannerly. We don’t know each other, but you’ve drawn some conclusions about me, just as I have about you. You figured a former mercenary who’s now a professional bodyguard has more brawn than brains and would probably live in a cluttered dump, with hot-and-cold running bimbos.”

“I didn’t say one word about bimbos!”

Murdock laughed, the sound like rumbling thunder. “Sit down and make yourself at home. I’ll put your suitcase in the bedroom.” He caught the startled look on her face and before she could protest, he said, “There are two bedrooms, so don’t be concerned that you’ll have to share a bed with me. Besides, why would I need you when I keep a bimbo on call twenty-four hours a day.”

Catherine’s eyes rounded into wide, startled, blue saucers. As Murdock disappeared behind a glass-block partition, she gritted her teeth. Only her strong willpower prevented her from stomping her foot. Damn the man! He enjoyed teasing her—another typical male trait she remembered Lanny McCroskey had possessed. She recalled when her mother had complained about his constant teasing, he’d said a man only teased a woman he liked. Then he’d kissed her mother and said or a woman he loves.

Did that mean that Murdock liked her? What did it matter? her inner voice questioned. He doesn’t have to like you to accompany you to Zaraza and act as your bodyguard. And you don’t have to like him. As a matter of fact, you’d be better off not liking him.

Just as she sat in one of the leather chairs, Murdock returned, minus his jacket. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows, revealing large, hairy forearms. A bevy of tiny nerves sent off shock waves inside her stomach. The man was so big, so overwhelmingly masculine that he took her breath away. Dear God, he intimidated the hell out of her.

“Want something to drink?” he asked. “Coffee? Tea? Cola? Whiskey?”

“Tea would be nice.”

“Hot or cold?”

“Uh-huh.” As if entranced in a hypnotic spell, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“Which?”

Warmth crept up her neck and into her face. Stop this right now! she warned herself. You’re acting like an idiot. So he intimidates you. Big deal! There is absolutely no reason to be afraid of him. Remember, he is supposed to be your protector.

“Hot tea, if it’s not too much trouble.” She deliberately avoided direct eye contact.

“Earl Grey?”

“Yes, that would be lovely.” Once again Murdock surprised her. She’d never have thought he would have Earl Grey tea in his cupboard. “By the way, did you put the briefcase in the bedroom, too?”

“I put the hundred thousand in the wall safe in my bedroom.”

“Oh.”

“You can trust me with the money, Catherine. There’s no one who wants to get Lanny out of that Zarazaian prison more than I do.”

“I wasn’t implying that you’d—”

“Sure you were, but don’t let it bother you. Despite the fact that Lanny is your father and was once my best friend doesn’t mean you and I have to be friends. Actually, to accomplish this mission, we don’t even have to like each other. All that’s necessary is for you to cooperate with me and follow my orders.”

“I’m well aware of the fact that you’re a professional, with years of experience in matters like this.” Catherine’s right hand fluttered nervously at her neck as her fingers toyed with the collar on her white silk blouse. “I have no intention of giving you any trouble, Mr. Murdock. I’m perfectly willing to accept your leadership in this matter.”