actually touching her back, but if she moved one step, she’d be in his arms.
In a measured tone, he said, “You’re telling me that Frankie’s not in custody.”
“No, he’s not.”
“And he knows there’s a witness.”
“Yes.”
“Did you write about the murder?”
“Agent Levine asked me not to.” But she had written many articles about the evil-doing of Wynter Corporation.
“Does Frankie have your name?”
“No,” she said. “I write under an alias, three different aliases, in fact. And I have two dummy blogs. Since my communication with these publications is via the internet, nobody even knows what I look like.”
“Smart.”
“Thank you.” Her reflection smiled at his. So far, so good. She might make it through the night with no more explanation than that. There was more to tell, but she didn’t want to get involved with Sean. Not again.
He continued. “And you’re also smart to have left Frankie and the other thugs behind in San Francisco. Hazelwood Ranch seems like a safe place to stay until this all dies down.”
Unfortunately, she hadn’t come to visit Aunt Hazel for safety reasons. Her gaze flickered across the surface of the mirror. She didn’t want to tell him.
He leaned closer, whispered in her ear. “What is it, Emily? What do you want to say?”
The words came tumbling out. “Frankie is here in Colorado. The Wynter family has a gated compound over near Aspen. I didn’t come here to give up on my investigation. I need to go deeper.”
He grasped her upper arms. “Leave this to the police.”
From downstairs, there was a scream.
“Aunt Hazel!”
Though Emily’s immediate reaction was to run toward the sound of the scream, Sean only allowed her to take two steps before he grabbed her around the middle and yanked her so hard that her feet left the floor. This was why he’d been hired.
He dragged her across the bedroom. There was only one thought in his mind: get her to safety. In the attached bathroom, he set her down beside a claw-foot tub.
“Stay here,” he ordered as he drew his gun. “Keep quiet.”
“The hell I will.”
Though he hated to waste time with explanation, she needed to know what was going on. He spoke in a no-nonsense tone. “If there’s been a break-in, they’re after you. If you turn yourself in, we have no leverage. For your Aunt Hazel’s safety, you need to avoid being taken captive.”
“Okay, help her.” Her face flushed red with fear and anger. Her eyes were wild. She pushed at his shoulder with both hands. “Hurry!”
Moving fast, he crossed to her closed bedroom door. He wished he was wearing boots instead of just socks. If he had to go outside, his feet would turn to ice. He paused at the door and mentally ran through the layout of the house. From the upstairs landing, he could see the front door. He’d know if someone had broken in that way.
Sean was confident in his ability to handle one intruder, maybe two. But Frankie Wynter had a lot of thugs at his disposal, and they were loyal; one guy was willing to face a murder rap for the boss’s son. One—or two or more—of them might be standing outside her bedroom door right now.
But he didn’t hear anything. Outside, the snow rattled against the windows. The wind whistled. From downstairs, he heard shuffling noises. A heavy fist rapping at the door? A muffled shout. Sean turned the knob, pulled the door open and braced the gun in his hands, ready to shoot.
There was no one on the upstairs landing.
Emily dashed to his side. “Let me help. Please!”
He’d told her to stay back and she chose to ignore him. Emily was turning into a problem. “Is that tub in the bathroom made of cast iron?”
“It’s antique. Now is not the time for a home tour.”
“Get inside the tub and stay there.” At least, she wouldn’t be hit by a stray bullet.
“I’m coming with you.”
Was she trying to drive him crazy or was this stubborn, infuriating behavior just a part of her natural personality? He couldn’t exactly remember. He’d had damn good reasons for divorcing this woman. “No time to argue. Just accept the fact that I know what I’m doing.”
“I need a gun.”
“What you need is to listen to me.”
“Please, Sean! You always carry two guns. Give one to me.”
He pulled the Glock from his ankle holster and slapped it into her hand. “Do you remember how to use this?”
She recited the rules he’d taught her one golden afternoon six years ago in Big Sur. “Aim and don’t close my eyes. No traditional safety on a Glock, so keep my finger off the trigger until I’m ready. Squeeze—don’t yank.”
“You’ve got the basics.”
He’d treated their lessons like a game and had never insisted that she take his weapon from the combination safe when he was on assignment and she was alone at home. While he was working undercover, he’d worried about her safety, worried that she’d be hurt and it would be his fault. There was a strange irony in the fact that she’d put herself in ten times more danger than he could imagine.
He peered through the open bedroom door onto the upstairs landing where an overhead light shone down on the southwestern decor that dominated the house: a Navajo rug, a rugged side table and a cactus in an earthenware pot. A long hallway led to other bedrooms. The front edge of the landing was a graceful black wrought-iron staircase overlooking the foyer and chandelier by the front door.
Sean peered over the railing.
A menacing silence rose to greet him. He didn’t like the way this was going. Emily’s aunt wasn’t the type of woman who cowered in silence. He gestured for Emily to stay upstairs while he descended.
At the foot of the staircase, he caught a glimpse of flying kimono dragons when Hazel raced across the foyer and skidded to a stop right in front of him.
She glared. “Where the heck is my rifle?”
Looking down from the landing, Emily said, “I moved it to the front closet.”
“I had my gun right by the door,” she said to Sean. “Emily shouldn’t have moved it. Out of sight, out of mind.”
The women in this family simply didn’t grasp what it took to be cautious and safe. They needed ten bodyguards apiece. He rushed Hazel up the stairs, where she hugged Emily. The two of them commiserated as though the threat were over and done with. Had they forgotten that there might be an intruder?
“Hazel,” he barked, “why did you scream?”
“I heard something outside and looked through the window. A fat lot of good it did, the snow’s coming down so hard I couldn’t see ten feet. But I caught a glimmer...headlights. I went toward the front door for a better look. At the exact same time, I heard somebody crashing against the back door like they were trying to bust it down. That’s when I screamed.”
Sean figured that five minutes had passed since they’d heard Hazel’s cry for help. “After you screamed, what did you do?”
“I hid.”
“Smart,” he said. “You didn’t reveal your hiding spot until you saw me.”
She