Beverly Barton - Paladin's Woman

"Rusty told me about your brother."

"They—they shot him in the head. Daddy gave them a million dollars, and they killed Donnie anyway. He was only nine. I was six."

"And after that, Rusty kept you in a gilded cage?"

She nodded. He noticed the shimmering moisture glazing her eyes. She looked down at her lap, avoiding his scrutiny.

"You're right," Nick said, staring directly at her. "I do like to play games, especially with women. And I can't promise that I won't play games with you, from time to time. You jump to the bait so quickly. I can get you riled up in no time and I admit I enjoy kidding you."

"You annoy me by making sexual suggestions." Addy jumped up, pouring what was left of her cola down the sink drain. "If you keep doing that, we're going to be fighting all the time. Is that what you want?"

"A little harmless flirtation is good for you, didn't you know that?" Nick picked up the pizza carton. Looking around for a garbage can, he saw none. "Where's the trash?"

"In the pantry." She pointed him in the right direction. "Save your flirtation for Dina and other women who enjoy it."

"You might enjoy it, if you'd give me half a chance. Most women think I'm irresistible." Nick tried not to laugh when he saw the anger in her eyes. Somewhere along the way, Addy McConnell had forgotten how to have a good time, how to joke and laugh and be carefree. Maybe, during their stay together, he could teach her a thing or two about enjoying life. When the image of her lying upstairs in his bed, her curly red hair spread out and covering her naked breasts, flashed through Nick's mind, he groaned.

"I'm not into one-night stands or brief, meaningless affairs." Addy clutched the edge of the sink.

"I said I liked flirting with women. I didn't say I bedded every woman I found attractive." In recent years, Nick's tastes had become very discriminating and he'd sought more than sex from his relationships. Maybe he was getting old, but the idea of finding the right woman appealed to him more and more. Of course, she'd be curvaceous and blond. She'd have a sense of humor, enough to laugh at his jokes, anyway. Naturally, she'd be dynamite in bed and no more interested in marriage than he was.

"Since Dina pointed out that I'm not your type, why waste your time with me? Is it that important for all women to fall swooning at your feet?"

Nick laughed, picturing Addy swooning at his feet. He liked the idea, and wondered if there was any possibility that she—

The insistent ring of the telephone interrupted Nick mid-thought. Addy reached for the wall phone.

"Hello? Yes, he's here." She handed the red telephone to Nick.

"Nick Romero. When? … Where? … Yes, the wound would be in his right hand. A stiletto blade… Powerfully built. Young, maybe early twenties. Long brown hair… Okay. We'll be there shortly."

Addy gazed at Nick, wide-eyed. "What was that all about?"

"The police think they've found your would-be kidnapper."

"What? Has he told them who hired him?" On trembly legs, Addy walked over to Nick, grabbing him by the arm.

"He couldn't tell them anything. He's dead. Been dead since early this morning." Nick put his arm around Addy to steady her. She swayed into him slightly, then righted herself immediately, pulling out of his comforting embrace.

"What do they want us to do?" she asked. "Identify him?"

"Yes." He hated seeing that pale, haunted look on her face. "I can't leave you alone here, so I'll have to take you with me. But I can identify the body. There's no need for you to see him."

"Whoever hired him, killed him."

"It looks that way."

"He—or she—will try again."

"Probably." Nick wanted to pull her back in his arms and comfort her. He wanted to promise her that he'd take care of her, not let anyone hurt her. But Addy was afraid of him, scared of him as a man. And as much as he hated to admit it, maybe she had a right to be. He couldn't ever remember feeling so possessive and protective. Hell, maybe his taste in women was changing. Could it be that after all these years of chasing some bosomy blond dream, the woman destined to change his life was a skinny redhead?

Chapter 4

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The room was cool. Nick was hot. He'd sprawled his big body out on the soft cream sheet, kicking the covers to the foot of the bed. Normally he slept in the raw, but considering the possibility that he might have to rush to Addy McConnell's defense at a moment's notice he'd left on his briefs.

He wasn't sure of the time, but figured it was close to midnight. After a quick supper of cold ham sandwiches and potato salad, he and Addy had sat in her small den adjacent to the kitchen and listened to one of her favorite tapes, the musical score from Phantom of the Opera. Having been raised in Texas, Nick preferred the elemental sounds of country, but over the years he'd learned to appreciate various types of music. He found that Addy's tastes were more select. She preferred classical and semi-classical above all else. She was a patron of the arts, having season tickets to the symphony.

More than one luscious blonde from Nick's past had exposed him to the social world of the ultrarich. He fit in just as well with multimillionaires as he had with his Navy SEAL comrades and his fellow DEA agents. If Nick Romero was anything, he was adaptable. He had discovered early in life that the people who succeeded were those who found a way to use the system to their advantage. Even a half-breed Mexican kid with an illiterate dirt farmer for a father and a whore for a mother could rise above his humble beginnings if he had the guts and determination to change, to learn and grow, to assimilate every new experience. In other words, to adapt.

Listening to Addy move around in her room, Nick figured she was as restless as he, and was probably having a difficult time getting to sleep. Going to the police station had been far more upsetting for Addy than she'd been willing to admit. Nick was accustomed to crime, was used to being exposed to the seamier side of life where murder was a common occurrence. But Addy was not. When he'd tried to discuss the attempted kidnapping with her, she'd shied away from the subject and had downright refused to talk about the untimely death of her assailant, who had died from a fall off a steep embankment on Monsano Mountain.

Addy was scared, but was trying hard not to show it. Nick wanted to assure her that it was all right to be afraid, that it was not only normal but smart. Bravery and fear were constant companions, as inseparable as life and death. Fear could save your life, whereas fearlessness often proved fatal.

He heard the door to Addy's bedroom open, then the click-click tapping of her shoes. Suddenly, all sound ceased. He sat up in his bed, listening. The stairs creaked. Someone was walking up or down.

Easing open his own bedroom door, Nick surveyed the darkened hallway. Moonlight spread out over the wooden floor like creamy yellow-white butter across dark toast. Still hearing the sporadic creaking, Nick eased carefully down the hall until he reached the landing. Addy, her satin high-heel slippers dangling from her fingers, tiptoed down the stairs. Nick sucked in his breath at the sight of her retreating back. Her tall slender body, visible in the soft moonlight, was draped in a pale lavender confection of gossamer silk and lace.

What the hell was she doing? She looked like a woman running away, trying to escape from someone or something. He'd like to go back to bed, go to sleep and forget that Addy, upset, uncertain and scared, was wandering around downstairs. But he couldn't. She was his responsibility.

He returned to his room, slipped into a pair of jeans and made his way quietly down the stairs, the faint tapping of his cane echoing in the stillness. From the foyer, he could see light under the kitchen door. He hated to intrude on her, to interrupt her privacy, but dammit, he wouldn't be doing his job if he didn't check on her.