Pregnant Protector

Nick’s head jerked up. “No safe house?”

“No official safe house, but my house. Definitely safe,” she emphasized. “With the Valdez family in Mexico, we’ll need you to cover ground only they would know.”

Nick found himself quite speechless for the second time that day. There was something in the way she held her head, a quiet dignity about her, that spoke volumes.

“So I’ll be able to investigate Julio’s murder unhampered?” he managed to ask.

“As long as you let me protect you. You’ll follow my orders for your safety. To do that, I remain at your side until this case is solved.” She brushed away a speck of dust from the desk and met his gaze straight on. “If your…activities interfere with that, then and only then will I feel the need to curtail your actions by any means necessary. That includes reporting to your superior and mine—that’s Captain Girard.” There was steel in the voice coming from that delicately boned face. “Until I get back to K-9.”

“Got it,” he said, his voice grating like gravel. “Appreciate your understanding, Officer Nelson.”

“Hey. He was your partner.” Her businesslike manner slipped more than a little as she smiled. “My car’s outside. Let’s roll. And please, call me Lara.”

THE K-9 SQUAD CAR computer display and communication unit kept track of messages as Lara and Nick rode in silence. Sadie sat alertly in the back, Nick’s bag of clothes from the weekend on the floor beneath. Nick felt strange sitting next to her, instead of Julio, during the drive toward the pricey homes perched on the cliffs of the La Jolla shoreline. As the squad car approached her home, he took in everything with a trained observer’s eye: the white stucco front, the riot of flowers, the carefully manicured lawn. His gaze skipped over the expensive foreign cars to the frothing shoreline far below. As the Pacific sparkled and crashed green-blue in the sun, he thought of his own small apartment in an older blue-collar neighborhood of San Diego.

Nick couldn’t help but be curious about Lara Nelson’s circumstances. Girard had said Lara worked in La Jolla; he didn’t say she lived there. Homes in La Jolla went for three million dollars and up. Only movie stars, hi-tech industrialists and old-money types lived on these cliffs. Space and the world-famous view were at a premium. Those looking for an opportunity to buy had to wait a long time for a property to go on the market.

Nick breathed in the salt air as Lara parked the car on the pristine, oil-free driveway. He’d always appreciated beauty and begrudged no one his or her fair share. He wondered if Julio’s fatherless children would ever find their own place in the sun. Then, because a man in his kind of life accepted harsh realities, he shoved aside such thoughts and exited the car, stepping onto the fancy tiled sidewalk.

As man, woman and dog entered the pink-tiled foyer, Nick slipped and stumbled slightly. Lara grabbed at his waist, alarmed.

“You okay?”

“Fine. Just slipped on the tile.”

“Carrara marble. My dog and I slip on it, too.” Surprisingly, her arm remained firmly around his waist as she steered him to the couch in the large foyer.

“Sit down. I’ll get you some coffee, if you’d like.”

“I don’t want any damn coffee,” he said harshly. Then he backpedaled, realizing she didn’t deserve rudeness. “I’m sorry. No, thanks.”

“Okay, but how about a beer? Or a scotch. You’re not on duty.”

Nick thought for a moment. “Scotch sounds good.”

“Ice?”

“Neat.”

“Sit down and put your feet up. I’ll be right back. Sadie, stay.”

He felt the dog’s eyes on him as he studied the room. A concert grand stood as the room’s focal point, its lacquered finish gleaming despite the curtains being drawn over the huge bay windows. The floor was highly waxed parquet hardwood, while the obviously expensive leather couch and matching hassock were the only pieces of furniture evident. There was no television and no stereo. The only things in profusion were voluminous collections of sheet music on the shelves and a few scattered pieces on the piano.

Lara returned with an iced tea for herself and the scotch for him. Her dog rose to its feet expectantly and trotted to her side. Lara shook her head, but remained standing. “Relax, Sadie. I’m not going anywhere,” she said with a smile of affection for the animal. Sadie lay down again and stretched.

The smile transformed the woman’s face. She was breathtakingly lovely. So lovely that it took him a moment to realize she was still holding out his glass.

“Thanks.” He tested the scotch with a small sip, then a bigger one.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks.” The scotch, smooth as silk, burned a path to his midsection, replacing some of the icy coldness with heat.

“There’s more if you want,” Lara offered. “Just say the word. You wanna get drunk, I don’t have a problem with it. God forbid if anything happened to my partner.” Her hand dropped to rest on the molded head of her four-legged companion.

Getting drunk—something he hadn’t done since his college days—appealed, but only for a moment. If he were drunk, he couldn’t work. He’d take a quick shower, not for hygiene but to shock his body into alertness, and he’d exchange the constricting work clothes for jeans. He’d shove his grief down where it couldn’t hamper him, and then, only then, would he start to work on finding Julio’s killer.

CHAPTER TWO

Monday afternoon

“DAMN!” Lara swore as she hit yet another wrong note on the piano keyboard, the third in the past five minutes. Julio’s body was now in the hands of the medical examiner, and she hadn’t yet told Nick. At present he was showering. She planned for them to visit the police station to check on new developments, but first she needed to eat. She’d missed her breakfast, and it was already past noon. Lara suspected Nick hadn’t eaten since hearing of his partner’s death. Okay, she decided, she’d tell him about the phone call from Girard after they’d eaten. There was no harm in stalling. No sense ruining his shower, as well.

She’d sat down to practice at the piano while waiting, one of her passions but unfortunately not one of her skills. She pushed away from the Steinway, the legs of the piano bench scraping the waxed parquet floor. Might as well take a break. Her mind wasn’t on her music, anyway. It was on Nick Cantello.

Lara crossed to the big bay window overlooking the Pacific, parted the drawn curtains slightly and took in the view. In many ways, she thought, Nick was exactly the way a law enforcement officer should be. Strong, both in his hard, lean body, and in his personality. But there was something else about him she found disturbing—his loneliness. He tried to hide it, she knew, but having reviewed his file on Girard’s orders, Lara sensed it. Nick considered Julio’s family more his than his own, distant one; his parents, siblings and grandparents lived in Italy. Now, sadly, the Valdezes were back in Mexico. Despite Nick’s brusque, almost rude manner, she’d instantly warmed to him, both emotionally and physically, utterly surprising feelings for her to have toward a stranger suddenly thrust into her life.

Circumstances such as murder and a grieving, angry man didn’t bode well for romantic attraction. Nick wanted justice for his partner, with or without her, and Lara knew a brick wall when she met one. Her dog’s ears swiveled suddenly, alerting her to Nick’s passage down the stairs from the guest room on the upper level. She swung around and greeted him with a smile.

“Giving up on the ivories?” Nick asked.

“I should have given up years ago. I’m terrible. Still, I love music.” She shrugged. “I try not to inflict too much suffering on others. Thank heavens Sadie doesn’t mind.”

“Your dog’s tone deaf?”

Lara noted it was the first time she’d seen him smile. “Yep. So is Lexi—that’s my oldest sister Kate’s dog. Kate’s the real musician. We share this house. But she’s out of town on business,” she said, anticipating his question. “It’s just us.”

Lara sat back down on the bench and dropped her hand, feeling for the furry head never far from her side. “Hungry? We can leave whenever you’re ready. I thought we’d stop at a place I know near the beach. Or wherever you prefer.”

“In a bit.” Nick sat down on the couch, his expression one people close to him would recognize as alert. “Tell me about your…house.”

“Two stories, seven bedrooms, five bathrooms, kitchen and bar, formal dining room, four-car garage, pool and spa, tennis courts, plus a beautiful ocean view,” she said. “Actually quite modest for La Jolla.”

His eyes traveled around the room, sparsely yet elegantly—and expensively—furnished. “You win the lottery?” he asked.

“In a way.” Lara grinned. “Wanna know the story?”

“Please.”

Lara noticed his please was more an order than a question, a characteristic of most law enforcement officers who set up and controlled interviews. She did it herself, but today being treated as “business” was irritating. She’d never had a problem maintaining her emotional distance from co-workers before. But Nick had somehow skipped right past her “official” mode, and suddenly she wished the reverse were true.

Lara lifted her foot to the bench and tucked her knee under her chin. “My mother used to be a K-9 officer, and Dad worked with explosives canines. Dad runs the kennels. Both Mom and Dad train. We all help out on our off time.”

“We? Your siblings?” he asked.

“Kate and I, now. My other sister, Lindsey, is married and works up at Yosemite with her husband. Kate and I occasionally do bodyguard work for friends or friends of friends.”

Nick jerked his head in the dog’s direction. “You freelance with the dog?” Law enforcement officers were allowed to moonlight, such as working parking control at sports events, but dogs rarely were.

“Sorta kinda. I don’t charge my friends. And legally, Sadie’s my personal property. I wasn’t assigned her. I came to the job with leash in hand.”

“Unusual.”

“Not since 9-11. Increased numbers of law-enforcement dogs are becoming a normal part of life in this country. And as our kennels provide many of the working law-enforcement dogs in this area…” Lara shrugged. “Sadie passed her certifications.”

“Go on,” he ordered. Lara lifted one eyebrow, and was rewarded with another “Please.”

“Kate and I worked a charity event for children’s cancer a few years ago. A rock concert,” she specified. “My father’s a friend of the lead singer. The rock star’s girlfriend and their young daughter were there. The daughter has cancer.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Anyway, Kate and I foiled a kidnapping attempt on the daughter. We caught the perps and kept the family safe. The rock star was very grateful.”

“So, this?” he gestured around the expensive room.

“We don’t take pay, of course. But Kate had her arm broken. I had a couple of broken ribs. Our dogs were okay, thank God. They got a good workout on the kidnappers.” She grinned. “And despite their zeal, neither dog damaged a tooth.”

“Good girl, Sadie,” Nick said. In acknowledgment of the praise, Sadie graced him with a single, minute twitch of her tail.

“The rock star paid Kate’s medical bills, and mine. When I got out of the hospital—”

“You were hospitalized?” he interrupted.

“I needed a few stitches,” she said. “No biggie. So when I got out, the rock star presented the house as a fait accompli to our kennels, complete with gardener, pool man, stocked bar and paid utilities. Plus a Mercedes in the garage. Like I said, we don’t charge friends, but we couldn’t refuse or sell the place without taking a heavy tax hit to our business. The client must have paid his lawyer big time to set it up that way. He and his girlfriend really love their daughter. Happy ending for all parties concerned.”

Nick nodded. “So you and your sister moved in?”

“We did. Mom and Dad still live on the kennel property, of course.”

“Where’s your sister now?” Nick asked.

“Kate and her dog are at a FBI convention—new bombs, new antiterrorist methods, new canine training. Kate works for the Port of San Diego—coastal cities need harbor security just as tight as airports. She gets to do the occasional cruise ship. They always request her when in port.”

Nick noticed the pride in Lara’s voice when speaking of her sister. He found himself asking, “So you’re both single?”

“We are.”

Her tone said, Back off, but Nick suddenly remembered Captain Girard’s words. “You up to this? Girard told me you’ve just come off compassionate leave yourself.”

“That’s right. Jim was a pilot. We were to get married last year. His chopper crashed. End of story.” She lifted her chin. “But don’t worry, I won’t hold you—or the investigation—back. The shrinks said I’m good to go.”

“Sorry. Damn.” He started to reach for her, to give a consoling hug, then stopped. An awkward pause filled the room. He filled it with the lame “Well, with your sister not here, at least I won’t have to share the shower.”

Lara eagerly seized the opportunity to change the subject. “With Kate gone, it’s quiet, but secure. I don’t think you need a ‘safe house’ yet. For the present I’d rather Sadie and I stayed on our own turf to protect you.”

“Makes sense,” Nick admitted. The security measures in his older apartment building couldn’t match those in La Jolla’s rich district. Nor did his apartment have the hi-tech central monitoring system he’d noticed throughout the house.

“And we’ll be using my Mercedes. It’ll draw less attention than my squad unit.”

“You’re very lucky.”

“Yep. Sadie even has her own pool.”

“I didn’t mean the house. I mean, you lived to fight another day. The rock star and his family remain intact. The bad guys are behind bars—where I intend to put Julio’s killer.”

Lara blinked, and her chest tightened with surprise. Most people envied her free home and raved about her “luck.” Obviously that wasn’t true with Nick. She noted he hadn’t asked for the name of the rock star. Nick had his own priorities.

“Let’s crank up that fancy car of yours, grab a bite and head over to the police station,” Nick said. “Time to find out what’s going on.”

A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER, Nick sat in Lieutenant Joe Lansky’s empty office waiting for him to return with coffee. Lara had placed badges around both her neck and Sadie’s, where they were visible for all to see. When she wasn’t in her special K-9 squad car, she didn’t wear her uniform.

“I’m gonna roam, if you don’t mind. You’ll be safe enough in here,” she’d said before leaving. “We got news this morning when you were in the shower.”

“What news?”

“Lansky will fill you in. You’ve got my police cell number and my personal cell number. Don’t even think about leaving the building without me. Got it?”

“Got it.” Her posture and tone said it all. It reminded Nick of Lara’s story of foiling a kidnapping. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he remembered her saying dismissively, “A few stitches.” Clients—even wealthy ones—didn’t usually compensate “a few stitches” with La Jolla mansions.

Nick took the liberty of logging onto Lansky’s computer. First he tried to access any information on his partner’s death, but found only a flashing, coded “pending.”

Annoyed, but still logged on, he pulled up the police details of the rock star case. Four men had attempted to kidnap the rock star’s daughter; Lara and her sister with their dogs had won the battle, but not without a price. Lara had been knifed in the ribs by one of the men. The knife was polymer, just as hard and sharp-edged as metal, and had escaped detection by concert security in the metal detectors. Three of Lara’s ribs had been slashed right through, and the knife-wielding kidnapper had died by two bullets, one from each sister; either hit would have been fatal. Lara needed emergency surgery, according to the police reports. The three remaining kidnappers were in prison, the ringleader on death row due to “special circumstances,” stalking, the attempted kidnapping of a minor, the attempted murder of law-enforcement officers and assault upon said officers.

Nick logged off the computer and returned to Lansky’s visitor chair, his face thoughtful, his suspicions confirmed. Lara had courage when it came to law enforcement. Terrible thing, her fiancé dying…

Lansky entered the office, two cups of coffee in hand, and Nick gave himself a mental shake. He lifted his gaze to Lansky’s ruddy face. “What’s new with the investigation?”

Lansky set both coffees down and sat behind his desk. “Nothing on the shooter. The divers recovered Julio’s body around ten this morning. We contacted Nelson, and—”

“Ten this morning?” She could have told him. She hadn’t. Nick remembered the cheery breakfast they’d had, and his lips thinned. He needed information, not a babysitter.

“Yes. Julio’s driver’s-door window was destroyed by a single round, which continued into his body. What with the slow traffic speed during the rain, it’s conclusive, Cantello. We’re talking murder.”

Nick blinked. A bullet. Shot at his partner.

“What caliber?”

“Dunno yet.”

“Anything else?”

“The burial arrangements are pending. When the body is released from the coroner’s office, the family will return. Have you talked to them?”

“I haven’t been able to get through. I’ve tried more than once.”

“We’ve reached them. They know.”

“That’s all?”

“You know, you’re just as impatient as your aunt.”

“You knew Magda?” Nick’s late aunt, Magda Palmer, hadn’t been a law enforcement officer—women didn’t hold such jobs in her day—but she had worked as a clerk-typist in the old paper-records department. She’d also raised him.

Lansky shrugged. “Professionally. She used to type up some of my cases. So tell me. What’s up with your new bodyguard, Lara Nelson?”

“She’s a pro with dogs, obviously.”

“Where’s she gonna stash you?”

“She’s not.”

Lansky’s forehead furrowed. “No? I hope this lady knows what she’s doing.”

Nick jumped to Lara’s defense. “Captain Girard said you agreed to her assisting.”

“Only because we didn’t want you quitting and going vigilante,” Lansky said pointedly.

A muscle worked in Nick’s jaw. “Point taken. What else?”

“Valdez’s wife called him at work, she said, right before the shift ended and you two walked to the parking lot. We replayed our phone logs from Friday this morning…something about a broken refrigerator and needing ice. Julio agreed, but he’d be a few minutes late.”

“I know that. That’s why we swapped vehicles,” Nick said with impatience. “What else?”

“Julio’d discovered information on a fellow officer he needed to check out. Even wished you were around to give him a hand—but you’d already left for the weekend. On the phone, he told Lilia he’d catch you when you got back Monday. He died before he made it home.”

Nick felt a twist of pain in his gut. “What are you saying? This fellow officer killed Julio. Shot him with a heavy round of ammo and watched him skid into the ocean?” He didn’t think anything could have made him feel worse. But he was wrong.

“Maybe you weren’t the target,” Lansky said. “Maybe Julio was. Cantello, didn’t Julio say anything about that information?”

“No,” Nick said bleakly. “He knew I was in a hurry to catch my charter. The boat doesn’t wait.”

“Go see Girard,” Lansky said next. “He has more info for you.”

Nick rose.

“Cantello…” Lansky said.

Nick looked at him. “What?”

Lansky’s eyes were soft, kind. “I hear you and Valdez used to grab a beer after work now and then.”

Nick didn’t answer. Memories of Julio laughing, Julio dragging him to their favorite sports bar for a cold one flooded him. Nick could almost hear him now, see his twinkling brown eyes warm with friendship.

“My kids are crazy about you, Cantello,” Julio had often told him. “So’s my wife. No accounting for taste, but she’d have my hide if you ate alone. After this beer, you come home for dinner.”

Nick had always let himself be persuaded. Lilia Valdez would welcome him with a big smile, while Julio’s two boys greeted him with hugs and excited chatter….

I hear you and Valdez used to grab a beer after work now and then. Those days were gone now, never to return.

“What about it?” Nick said to Lansky. He didn’t want to travel down memory lane. He didn’t want to grieve for Julio yet. There would be time for that later.

Lansky clapped a beefy hand on Nick’s shoulder. “If you ever need a drinking buddy, look me up. I’ll even buy the first round.”

“I’ll buy—after we find our killer.”

NICK KNOCKED on the door to Captain Girard’s office and went in. Lara and Sadie were there with the older man.

“The gang’s all here,” Nick observed.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Lara said.

“Ballistics confirmed the bullet caliber—25 mm,” Girard said. “Antitank, military issue, high velocity. Deadly—and unusual.”

High velocity was favored by the military. The police used lower velocity bullets, greatly lessening the chance of one passing through a criminal and hitting an innocent bystander. The military considered that a plus, not a minus.

“Whoever was gunning for you or Valdez didn’t want to take chances,” Lara said softly.

“At least we’ll be able to trace the weapon through the military,” Nick stated. Among civilians, handgun registration was only recently mandatory in California. Rifles and shotguns did not have to be registered.

“It’s a starting point,” Girard agreed. “We’re running a cross-check on employed veterans and those still serving in the reserves.”

“You think it’s one of us?” Nick asked.

“Well, our own staff is the place to start. All we have to go on is Julio’s conversation with his wife. My thinking is, computer files are a dead end.”

Nick caught the expression on Girard’s face at the word dead. It came and went so quickly that only a trained observer could have seen it. Like himself. I’m not the only one torn up about this, he thought. Maybe an outsider’s a good idea.

He glanced at Lara, and for a moment she didn’t feel like such an outsider, after all, until Girard said, “There’s one more thing. As I told Lara earlier this morning on the phone, we’ve recovered your car and your partner.”

“You knew this morning and didn’t tell me, Lara?” Nick flew to his feet. “I’m going to see Julio.”

“No,” Girard said. Lara quickly blocked the door, dog at her side, and placed her hand on Nick’s arm.

“Your partner took an antitank round, Detective,” Girard said. “The M.E. says he died on impact of the round, long before the car submerged. Officer Nelson just came from the morgue.”

“You should have told me!” he said angrily, shaking off her grasp.

“Trust me, Detective, you don’t want to see his body. I wish I hadn’t,” Lara said bluntly.

An uneasy silence filled the office until Girard said, “You’ve got work to do. Best get going.”

Lara stayed in front of the door, still shadowed by her dog. “Captain, if you could have your assistant e-mail those ballistics reports to me? Here’s my card.”

Nick was grateful for the interruption as Lara passed his boss the business card with her official cell phone and office number, e-mail address, title and K-9 Department unit number. It wasn’t until they were outside in the parking lot that she spoke again.

“Well, we’ve made some progress today,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I still would have liked finding out earlier. Next time you get a call from the station, let me know. I want information about Julio when it comes in, got it?”

She didn’t argue nor make excuses. “Agreed.”

Using the remote on her key chain, Lara unlocked the Mercedes door as they approached. Sadie shoved her nose under the back door handle, lifted it and opened the door, standard training for police dogs. Next she grabbed the rubber ring attached to the inside door handle and closed it herself, just as she did in Lara’s squad car. Lara took the driver’s seat like before, and Nick climbed in. He couldn’t drop the subject.