Leah Braemel - Personal Protection

Something in Scott’s tone got Sam’s attention. “What?”

Scott hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “I think I might have found your stalker.”

While he should feel relief that he wouldn’t require babysitting anymore, finding the stalker also meant Rosie would request a transfer and he’d lose her completely. As if he hadn’t already set her on that path. “All right. I’m comin’.”

As they walked toward the desk Scott had been using, Scott explained, “We’ve been suspecting someone inside, right?”

Sam nodded.

“So earlier today, I noticed my computer updating a program all by itself. I thought maybe I’d been hacked so I called the IT guys. They told me all Hauberk computers have a bot program installed so the geeks can do updates without having to go to every computer. So it got me wondering…”

Sam stopped. “Are you tellin’ me someone’s hacked into our system?”

“No.” Scott shook his head. “The system’s secure. But I convinced the manager to give me access to run a search on everyone’s hard drives. Search for photos they’d uploaded. IM conversations they may have stored that might mention you. That type of thing.”

By this time they’d reached the desk. Scott turned the monitor so Sam could see the undoctored photo of him helping Cynthia Stewart from his Jag.

“Who’s computer was this on?” he breathed.

“Chad Miller’s.”

Sam stared at the screen. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Was Chad seeking revenge for Sam for leaving his sister in a wheelchair for the rest of her life?

But if Chad was seeking revenge, why wouldn’t he have just shot him years ago instead of going through this circuitous route? They’d been alone so many times when Chad could have killed him without witnesses. Like any one of the numerous times they’d been out on Chad’s boat, Chad could have dumped Sam overboard and no one would have been the wiser.

Or was killing Sam not Chad’s game? If he wanted revenge on someone, how would he best get it? By going after something they cared about, the nasty part of his psyche whispered.

He whipped out his Berry and speed dialed Rosie’s number. Damn it, no answer. “Rosie’s at the apartment, right?”

“Ah, no. Some guy named Spencer Harper came over earlier and picked her up. Told her Thalia wanted to talk to her at the Rouge. She went over there a couple hours ago.”

Dear God. No.

“We’ve got to get to the club. Fast.”

“I’ll drive.”

As they raced to the front door, Sam whipped out his Berry and punched in Rosie’s number again.

It rang the standard four times before dumping him once more into voicemail. Shit, all electronic devices had to be left at the gate.

Scott unlocked the doors to the limo, holding the back one open until Sam threw himself in. He braced himself as Scott peeled the limo out of the parking lot and headed for the beltway, then dialed Thalia’s number and started praying that she’d pick up.

She did, on the second ring.

“Why, Thalia? If it’s revenge, don’t take it out on Rosie. Please.”

Even over the noise of the car engine, he could hear her sigh. “Oh, Samuel. It’s not revenge we’re after.”

We’re? Plural. So she and Chad were in on it together, Spencer too. “Then what is it you want?”

“Come to the club, Sam. We’ll talk about it when you arrive.”

He clutched the Berry so hard its case cracked. “Don’t hurt her, Thalia. Don’t let anyone else near her. Promise me.”

“We’ll talk when you get here. But Sam? Don’t take too long.” She broke the connection, leaving Sam staring at his phone.

“Scott?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Floor it.”

Spencer held open the door to Thalia’s office, motioning for Rosie to go in. The door behind her, leaving her staring not only at Thalia, but Chad, Andy and a dark-haired Hispanic man she recognized as Sam’s junior partner from Dallas, Mark Rodriguez.

“Hello, Miss Ramos. It’s a pleasure to meet you again.” Mark stood and greeted her, though she couldn’t miss the thorough assessment he made of her.

“I didn’t realize you were in D.C., Mr. Rodriguez.” Rosie put her hand on Andy’s shoulder, worried that he might blame her for Sam trying to fire him. “Hey, Andy, how you doing?”

“I’m okay, Rosie.” But he didn’t meet her gaze.

Chad however did meet her gaze, nodding his head only slightly, his expression unreadable.

“Sit down, Rosie,” Thalia said. While her voice was quiet, it contained an unmistakable order.

What the hell was going on? It was like facing a firing line, or…oh, my God, while she’d been obsessing about combing through the files, something must have happened to Sam. Her breath tight in her throat, she stared at Chad. “Is it Sam? Is he hurt? Did the stalker get him?”

Mark firmly grasped her shoulders and led her to the chair, pressing her into it. He knelt beside her and laid his hand over hers as it clamped onto the arm of the chair. “Sam is fine. He’s safe in his office. You don’t need to worry.”

“Then what-”

“Rosie, we need you to listen and not say anything until we’ve finished,” Chad interrupted. Since she’d taken his chair, Mark walked to the door, closed it and then leaned against it. Was he standing there to stop her from leaving? What the heck was going on?

“We ask that you keep an open mind about what we tell you,” Thalia said.

Not knowing who to look at or what to expect, Rosie grasped the arms of the chair and nodded.

“All right. I’ll keep an open mind.” But that’s all she’d promise. “Now what’s going on?”

After exchanging a glance with the other three, Chad took a deep breath. “There is no stalker, Rosie. There never has been.”

She glanced at Andy, who stared at his feet, then at Thalia, who met her gaze evenly and nodded slowly. Mark smiled as if he were in on some huge joke. Except there was nothing funny that she could see.

“I don’t understand. What about the photos? The phone calls?”

“All of us took the photos.” Chad circled his finger at the group. “Thalia took the one at the club, Andy and I took the rest. And I made the phone calls using a spoof card, just like you originally surmised.”

No wonder they’d not found any fingerprints at the phone booths. Considering Chad had made the calls, he’d probably never had them checked in the first place.

“But someone broke into his apartment and trashed it.”

Chad held up his hand. “That would also be me.”

Andy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “And I diverted the guard.”

“Why? Why did you do this?” Damn it, what the hell was going on here?

The four of them exchanged a glance. Chad nodded and began explaining, “You know about Sam’s part in the club right? You understand why he’s involved?”

“Yeah, the FBI sent him and his partner-” his fiancйe, she couldn’t say, “-in to catch a serial killer. Except she got killed in the process. What’s going on, Chad? Why did you need to stalk him?” She glanced toward the door assessing how she could take Mark down and get past him. How far she might get before they caught up to her? Would she have time to reach a panic button?

“It’s not what you think, Miss Ramos,” Mark said quietly. “You’re in no danger from us.”

Chad leaned forward in his chair. “You know that Sam holds himself responsible for Jill’s death, right?”

“And for me being in a wheelchair,” Thalia added.

Rosie nodded. “Is that what this has been about, Thalia? Vengeance.”

“Not vengeance. Compensation.” Thalia folded her hands in her lap and frowned. “Sam’s not allowed himself to become emotionally involved with anyone since Jill died.”