for being honest about the threat hanging over her head, too, even though it might be enough to scare a prospective nanny away in a heartbeat.
“If you’re trying to tell me there might be a little danger involved in this job, I’d already gathered that much before I ever agreed to apply for the job.”
Her sharp gaze met his. “And yet, here you are. Even after you had to chase away another attack on us just today.”
“I did mention I was a Marine, didn’t I?”
For the first time since they’d met, a genuine smile touched the edges of Lacey’s lips. “You did.”
“Danger doesn’t impress me the way it might someone else.”
“I’m not asking you to be a bodyguard,” she said sharply. “I don’t need a security detail. I think that would probably make things worse, not better.”
He wasn’t sure why she felt that way, but he didn’t want to start asking questions that would make her even more reluctant to hire him. “I’m just saying, I’m not afraid to work for you. If you think I’ll suit your needs.”
She gave him another long, sharp-eyed look. “You’d have to live with Katie and me at my late sister’s farmhouse in Cherry Grove, Virginia. It’s a small town about a forty-minute drive from here in Frederick. The house isn’t completely renovated, but enough has been done for it to be a comfortable place to live.” Her voice faded for a moment, and what was left of her faint smile disappeared completely, swallowed by a look of hard grief. “Marianne and Toby were hoping to have it finished by this summer, but they ran out of time.”
Jim felt a dart of sympathy. “Were they living there when they died?”
Lacey shook her head. “No. Why?”
“I was just wondering why you choose to live there instead of in DC. I thought maybe it was to make things easier for Katie. Not wanting to take her away from the home she knows—”
“No, that’s not it. Just the opposite, actually. See, I was keeping Katie at my apartment when... That night. Marianne and Toby were celebrating their wedding anniversary. New Year’s Eve.” Lacey’s lip trembled briefly before she brought her emotions under control. “I don’t want her watching my front door, waiting for them to come back and get her.”
He looked over at Katie, who’d slid off his lap and wandered over to play with a stuffed cat hanging by a red ribbon from the push bar of her stroller. He felt a rush of sadness for the child, and also for her tough but grieving aunt. Neither of them had expected to be where they were, the only family either of them had left.
Both of them in danger they couldn’t predict or easily prevent.
“I want the job if you want to hire me,” he said flatly, meeting Lacey’s gaze. “I think I can help you. And I need the work.”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and he began to worry that she was going to turn him down. It wouldn’t be a complete disaster if she did so, he knew. There were other ways to accomplish what he wanted to do.
But it would be so much easier if she’d just give him the nanny job.
She rose slowly, still looking at him through cautious gray eyes. “I’ll call your references today and see what they say. I’ll be in touch, one way or the other. May I contact you directly?”
He rose, too. “My number is on the résumé.”
She continued to look at him for a long, silent moment, as if trying to assess his character in that lengthy gaze. Finally, she extended her hand. “It was good to meet you, Mr. Mercer.”
“Jim,” he reminded her, taking her hand firmly in his.
She withdrew her hand. “Thank you again for your help this afternoon.”
“I’m glad I was there. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to catch the guy before he got away.”
“Two against one isn’t good odds. Even for a Marine.”
He waited for her to gather up Katie and settle her in the stroller, noting the way her hands shook slightly when Katie started to whine at being confined again.
She needed his help. A lot. And not just with Katie.
He was counting on that fact.
* * *
IN NO BIG hurry to return to the isolation of the Cherry Grove farmhouse, Lacey detoured southeast to Arlington, calling Detective Bolling with the Arlington County Police Department Homicide/Robbery Unit. As lead investigator into the car bomb that had killed Marianne and Toby, he was certain to be interested in what had happened to her in Frederick earlier that day.
He met her in a small café a few blocks from her apartment, smiling at Katie as they sat. “How’s she doing?”
Lacey shrugged. “Hard to know. She’s not a big talker yet.”
Bolling gave her a look of sympathy before he went into business mode. He listened intently as she told him about the ambush in Frederick, copying the name of the Frederick detective who’d given her his card. “I’ll give him a call. You sure you and the little one are okay?”
“Someone came to our rescue. Chased the guy away. There were two of them, did I mention that? The one who pulled the gun on me got into a van waiting for him down the alley from the employment agency.”
Bolling frowned at that. “Sounds premeditated. Having a getaway vehicle in place.”
“That’s what I thought, too. I think they wanted to abduct me, Detective Bolling. Otherwise, why didn’t he just shoot me right there?”
Bolling’s brow furrowed as he considered that possibility. “That’s a departure from a car bomb.”
“Do you think the situations could be unrelated?”
“Maybe. But it doesn’t seem likely, does it?” Bolling’s frown deepened. “What were you doing at an employment agency in Frederick, anyway?”
“Hiring a nanny.”
Bolling looked at Katie. “Does that mean you’re going back to work?”
Why did everyone assume hiring a nanny equaled returning to her job at the network? What did they think—that all women just naturally knew how to care for a two-year-old when one was dropped in their laps?
Immediately, she felt guilty for the flash of irritation. Most women probably did have at least some clue how to care for a small child. Even those who weren’t in the position financially and professionally to take a sabbatical from work.
“No, I’m not going back to work yet. But I don’t have a lot of experience caring for a child.” She stirred her glass of ginger ale with a long red straw, not meeting Bolling’s gaze. She didn’t want to know what he thought of that admission. Pity or disapproval would be equally unwelcome.
“Did you find a suitable candidate?”
“Maybe.”
“If you’d like, we could run a background check before you hire her.”
“Not necessary,” she assured him. She was as capable as the police to run a background check on Jim Mercer. Maybe more so, since her network connections gave her access to information even the police couldn’t get their hands on. Not without a warrant, anyway. “But I’d like to stay in the loop if you hear anything from the Frederick police about my assailant. I didn’t get the feeling Detective Braun was interested in keeping me updated.”
“I will tell you if anything important comes out of the investigation,” Bolling promised. “You sure you don’t want something to eat? My treat.”
“No, but thanks.” What she wanted, she realized with despair, was to go to her place in Virginia Square, sleep in her own bed and wake up to find everything