Vaughn’s mouth thinned. “Don’t bother. He’s out. I don’t have time for second-raters. Call The Spear. He’s a professional. He’ll get it done.”
“The Spear doesn’t take multiple jobs this close together in the same area—it’s too high risk. He’s already made an exception. He won’t do it again.”
“Make it worth his while. Offer him double his normal fee, more if you have to. Pay him enough, and he’ll take care of it. Or should I saythem. This has gotten out of hand. I can’t risk Reese and Jones finding something that could lead back to the client.”
Cliff didn’t argue.Clientmeant investor. He had no idea who Vaughn’s investors were and he didn’t want to know.
Turning, he walked out of the office. He’d make the call, phone the number of the throwaway used by the professional hit man who called himself The Spear. Cliff had never set eyes on the man, had only heard his voice, distorted by a digital synthesizer. There was no guarantee the man would pick up, but Cliff fervently prayed he would.
If he took the job, the hit would get done, but not without plenty of preparation. It was the way the man worked, the reason he was so successful. The reason he charged a small fortune.
Cliff wondered about Vaughn’s motives. Jess Milford had gotten what he deserved, coming to Cliff about the arson, threatening to tell the police what he’d found out if he didn’t get paid. But the senator had been one of Vaughn’s customers, a borrower who always repaid his debts, in one form or another.
Cliff wondered what Stewart Reese had done to get himself killed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
For the last three days, since her release from the hospital, Cassidy had been lying in bed in Beau’s guest room. She was slowly going crazy. She glanced toward the door. Her black-haired, blue-eyed prison guard was gone, at least for the moment. He’d be back, she knew, making sure she stayed in bed and got her rest.
Not today. It was nearly noon and she had too darn much to do. Easing off the mattress, ignoring the soreness in her ribs and the swirling in her head, she made her way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She hissed at a sharp stab of pain as she stripped off her long cotton nightgown and stepped beneath the warm, rejuvenating spray.
She took her time, washed her hair twice just to have an excuse to stay in longer. Soaping herself one last time, beginning to feel like her old self again, she gasped as the shower door flew open, letting in a draft of cold air and shooting out a jet of water. She bit back a grin as Beau mopped the wetness off his face.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “You aren’t supposed to be up for another day.”
“Too bad. I’m up and I’m staying up. Now if you don’t mind . . .”
For the first time, he seemed to realize she was standing in front of him naked, warm water trailing over the tips of her breasts, cascading into her navel, sliding through the dark curls at the apex of her legs.
Beau’s gaze ran the length of her body and a familiar hot gleam came into his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.” Hurriedly, he closed the shower door.
“I’ll be out in a second,” she said.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You aren’t dizzy or anything?”
“I’m okay, better by the minute.” She considered inviting him to join her but as achy as she still was, that might be pushing her luck.
“Call me if you need me. I’ll be just outside the bathroom door.”
He was worried about her. He’d been endlessly patient and unbelievably gentle. She wouldn’t have guessed he could be so sweet. Cassidy finally gave in and turned off the water, climbed out of the shower and toweled herself dry. She combed the tangles out of her hair, then had mercy on her prison guard/nurse, wrapped the towel around herself, went over and pulled open the door.
“I’m okay, all right? No dizziness, nothing.” She gave him a big, wide smile. “See? I’m fine.”
Beau glanced away. “As soon as you’re dressed, we need to talk. I’ll be in my study.”
She didn’t argue. They had plenty to discuss—like how to keep from getting killed.
Beau had told her he’d brought Will Egan and his team back to the house, had Will beef up security to the max. There were men around the property 24/7, but that couldn’t go on forever.
Cassidy partially dried her hair, leaving it damp enough to dry in soft curls around her shoulders. She took a pair of stretch jeans off a hanger in the closet, then sucked in a breath at a fresh jolt of pain as she pulled them on. She found a yellow cashmere scoop-neck sweater, gritted her teeth, and eased it on over her head.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she glanced down at her feet. The sneakers could wait. There was only so much torture a person could endure at one time.
Padding barefoot down the hall, she found Beau seated at his desk in the study. His head came up as she walked in, and his gaze ran over her once more, came to rest on her feet.
“I can’t believe your bare feet are turning me on.” He glanced up. “You drive me crazy. You know that?”
A little thrill went through her. She thought of his beautiful body, the ladder of muscle across his flat belly, his wide shoulders and hard-muscled chest. Yesterday he’d worked out with his martial arts trainer, then boxed with a sparring partner in his home gym behind the garage.
