Krystal's Bodyguard Read online

  Krystal thought about it. “Yes, Nico.” She was silent for a moment and then she started to laugh.

  “What?” Nico asked.

  “Well, if you’re here, Mommy’s safe, too, isn’t she? I mean, nobody’s going to come and hurt her if they know you’re here, even if she did only hire you for me.”

  Nico’s laughter joined the child’s. “Hey, that’s right, kid. But just between the two of us, I haven’t forgotten you’re the one who really hired me, so in a way, you’re my boss.”

  They were so busy congratulating each other, they didn’t hear her step into the room.

  “This sounds suspiciously like a conspiracy,” Dana said, making her voice as firm as possible.

  The two of them jumped guiltily, midlaughter. Nico leaped to his feet and nearly stumbled over his chair. “G’morning,” he said, fumbling as he righted the chair.

  The sight of her in morning dishevelment took his breath away. This had to be the test of true feminine beauty, he thought, a woman who could look this good only minutes after awakening, without benefit of makeup, in a plain cotton robe, her hair a mass of loose, uncombed curls that caught the sunlight and danced and shimmered around her face. She was a far cry from his original picture of her in basic business attire, despite the rigid expression of disapproval on her face.

  “Sorry, Mommy,” Krystal said, looking shamefaced.

  Dana’s smile broke across her face unexpectedly and she let loose the laughter she’d been holding back. “Okay, I’ll forgive you in exchange for a cup of coffee,” she said, settling in a chair, her hands folded expectantly on the table in front of her.

  They almost fell over each other, rushing to serve her the coffee, and she laughed again as she put her feet up on the chair Nico had vacated and put her hands behind her head.

  “Ah-hh,” she sighed, “my very own servants. I love it.”

  Krystal giggled as she set the cream pitcher in front of Dana but Nico gave her a baleful look along with the mug of coffee he plunked on the table. She grinned and began spooning sugar.

  “Been to the hardware store?” she asked, looking up at him. He was something wonderful in the morning, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, revealing all the musculature of a very fit male. His hair was still damp from a recent shower and she could faintly detect the combination of soap and aftershave on his skin.

  “Yeah, we figured we’d let you sleep in and have the work done before you got up.”

  Dana looked over her shoulder at the door. “Looks like it’s almost finished.” She sipped coffee. “Where did you learn to repair broken windows?”

  Nico grinned and went back to the door. Over his shoulder he said, “We were always breaking ‘em when we were kids so my dad insisted we learn how to fix ’em.”

  “Smart Dad,” Dana said. She turned to her daughter and pulled her against her side in a one-armed hug. “Now let’s see, how can we teach this little gremlin to repair broken dishes.”

  “I only broke two,” Krystal declared.

  “Yeah, but you’re only eight, think how many you’ll have broken by the time you’re ten.”

  Krystal saw it was a good time to change the subject. “Mommy, Diane’s mom said I could come for a play date tomorrow if it’s all right with you and Mrs. J. already told her I could so…”

  Tomorrow was Saturday. Not usually a workday for Dana because she tried to spend her weekends with her daughter. But if Krystal was going to be playing with Diane, Dana could get in some badly needed extra work time.

  Dana turned to Nico, her eyes begging the question.

  “Long-time friends?” he asked.

  Dana nodded. Her eyes signaled approval based on his agreement. He shrugged. “You remember the rules we went over this morning, right, Krys?”

  Krystal nodded eagerly. She ticked them off on her fingers. “No leaving a place without you or Mom picking me up, even if you’re late and not even if it’s right in the neighborhood. No time, nowhere, no joke,” she added firmly.

  Nico laughed. “Those last are her words, not mine,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s quite a little clown.”

  “Must get it from her father,” Dana said, grinning. She tousled Krystal’s hair. “Okay, you can call Diane and make the arrangements, but no begging to stay the night. I want you with me at night. Got it?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Krystal started to run for the phone but Dana pulled her back. “I mean it, Krystal, no overnights for now.”

  “Promise.” Krystal held up two fingers. Dana let her go.

  Nico had been applying putty to the edges of the pane. He finished the job, wiped the putty knife clean with a rag and came to join Dana at the table.

  He turned the chair backward and straddled it, resting his arms across the top. It was a posture common to men, but for some reason it struck Dana as far more suggestive with a man of Nico’s build. She averted her gaze, pretending to find something of interest at the bottom of her cup.

  “Are you planning to be home all day?” Nico asked.

  “I think I’ll go into the office for a few hours,” she said when she could no longer avoid looking at him. “Despite Yearling’s generosity, I can’t afford to lose a whole day right now. My caseload is bulging at the seams. I have two important appointments this afternoon that I really don’t want to put off, and I need to stop by the hospital and see Mrs. J. first.”

  Nico nodded. “Well, I’m sure Krystal and I can keep busy for a few hours. For one thing, I have to run over to my own office, see my boss and pick up a contract for you to sign. Krystal will get a kick out of returning there as a bona fide client. You don’t have to worry about her.”

  Dana felt sure of it. Krystal was still on the phone babbling happily with her friend. She tousled the child’s hair as she passed her on the way up to shower and dress for the office, humming to herself.

  When she returned to the kitchen, she found that Nico had cleaned up the remains of breakfast, put away the tools he’d used to fix the window, and left a note assuring her that he and Krystal would be home before her.

  STELLA MARTINSON looked over the contract, hesitating before adding her signature to it. She peered at Nico over the half glasses perched on her nose. “You’re sure you want to do this, Nico? We have plenty of other people who prefer security work.”

  Nico avoided his boss’s eyes. “And your point is?”

  Stella put down the pen without using it. “My point is, it doesn’t have to be you.”

  “The kid is already used to me,” Nico said. He found a bit of lint on the tweed sport coat he’d put on before coming into the office and brushed it off.

  “Nico?”

  He couldn’t avoid eye contact any longer. He raised his eyes and grinned sheepishly at Stella.

  “Okay, so I’m intrigued. This could turn out to be good for me and the agency.” He heard the defensive tone in his voice and his grin faded.

  “You’re not going to get personally involved, are you? Remember the last time you—”

  “No,” Nico interrupted. “This is altogether different. In the first place, Ms. Harper is no simple, helpless bimbo, and secondly, she doesn’t even want my help.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “She wants me strictly for the kid—and for the housekeeper when she’s there, I guess.”

  “How does she exclude herself?” Now Stella was intrigued. “And for what reason?”

  Nico shrugged. “She’s been getting threats. Won’t turn them over to the cops. Won’t show ‘em to me. Won’t consider hiring us to guard her, and says it’s all because she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself.”

  “Oh, that was evident when somebody shot her housekeeper,” Stella scoffed, her green eyes glinting.

  “Yeah, well. So now she’s hired us to make sure the old lady and the kid are safe. The premise is, the cops are going to find the shooter and put an end to the dan- ger.”

  “In our lifetime?”

&nbs
p; They both laughed. “In forty-eight hours, or so,” Nico said, grinning.

  “So much for small talk,” Stella said wryly. She picked up the pen and signed it with her usual flourish. “See what you can do about changing the lady’s mind, Nico. Sounds like she’s shutting out the reality that she’s being targeted. Truth is, I don’t like the idea of her traveling all over the city without cover.” She picked up the phone to signal their interview was over. She had just dialed the number and Nico was at the door when she put her hand over the mouthpiece and called out, “But don’t—” she darted a warning glare at him “—don’t change it by using your manly charm. One of these days you’re going to charm yourself right into more trouble than either of us can get you out of.”

  Nico left the office with the contract in his briefcase, whistling under his breath, Krystal happily holding his hand.

  JOHN YEARLING ANSWERED the intercom and learned Dana had just come in.

  “‘I thought I gave you the day off,” he said when she was seated across from him.

  “Thanks. Half a day was more than I needed,” she said. “Anyway, I had two appointments that seemed too important to put off.”

  “Pertaining to the Caprezio case?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

  “That’s what I wanted to see you about.” He cleared his throat and gave Dana a piercing look. “I’m wondering if it wouldn’t be better for you to turn that case over. You’ve got quite a full load as it is, and what if I’m wrong about Caprezio’s involvement in the shooting? I don’t like to think that an assignment I’ve given you has put you and your daughter in danger. Wouldn’t it be safer to replace you as prosecutor?”

  Dana stared at him, aghast. “No way!”

  “Come on, Dana, this isn’t any kind of reflection on your work or your ability. In fact, I would have expected you to see this as a favor. After all, it gives you more time to prepare for your other cases and a little more personal time. I know you’ve been putting in an awful lot of overtime that you could have been spending with Krystal.”

  “Kystal understands that there are times my work has to come first.”

  “But why should it, if I can ease things up for you?”

  “What is this really about, John? You don’t usually do these kinds of ‘favors’ for any of your people.”

  “My people don’t usually get shot at, especially the women on my team!”

  “Ah, so that’s it” Dana sat back in her chair, her elbows on the armrests, her fingers steepled together under her chin.

  “Point.” She leveled a steady look at her boss. “If the person behind the shooting was after me because of one of my cases, they’ll go after anyone who is prosecuting. I’m as capable as anyone on your staff of protecting myself. I’ve been through the academy’s self-defense courses. I have high scores in target practice, and I’m licensed to carry a gun.”

  Before John could respond to that, she leaned forward and said, “And a more pertinent point? Your removing me from the Caprezio case might be construed as gender discrimination. How would that go down with your constituents? Last I heard, more than half of them were women.”

  She could see, by the way her boss’s face paled and then flushed, that she’d struck a nerve.

  “Damnit, Dana, I was only looking out for your best interest.”

  “Well don’t!” She leaped to her feet and leaned on the edge of Yearling’s desk. “Don’t coddle me, don’t try to protect me, and most of all, don’t underestimate me. I haven’t asked for any preferential treatment and I don’t want it. What I want is to do my job. The job that includes cases that might even present danger.”

  Yearling shook his head and slumped back with a heavy sigh. “You’re a hard case, Harper.”

  “Yeah, well ask yourself this, Yearling. Would you be making this offer to any of the men on the staff?”

  John waved a dismissive hand at her, refusing to get into a self-defense position with her, especially since her points, including this last, were well taken. “Go. Slay dragons, win indictments, make headlines. I’ve got work to do.”

  Dana wondered how he’d react if she did a little jig in front of his desk. Discretion being the better part of employment, she walked sedately from the room, keeping her back rigid, her head high.

  In the outer office she saw that Carol Adams, John’s secretary, was waiting with an expectant look on her face. The woman never missed a thing that went on in the department. Dana gave her a thumbs-up and a big grin.

  “One more for our side,” Carol said, returning the smile and a victory sign.

  “Once more into the breach,” Dana said, turning in the direction of her own office.

  But once back at her desk, she sobered, turning in her swivel chair, facing the view of downtown Minneapolis from her window. But her eyes were looking inward, seeing once again the details of her husband’s murder.

  Zack and Joe had been on a week-long stakeout of a warehouse owned by Caprezio that had been fingered as a depot for the storage and sale of illegal weapons. Zack had gone out for coffee and upon his return had been shot in the back out on the street in front of the old abandoned building the cops had been using for surveillance. On the street, in plain view of anyone walking, or driving by, visible to anyone looking out of a window facing the street. Yet no witness had been found and though the cops had worked the case harder than any they’d ever had, they’d come up empty and had to move on to new business that was fast piling up.

  Dana had made a helluva scene when she’d learned that the task force was shutting down on her husband’s murder. Lieutenant King, in charge of the task force, had tried to explain that the case wasn’t really closed but that with no evidence, they couldn’t justify spending the money and the manpower to keep chasing their own tails. At the time Dana had been positive that the Caprezios were responsible for the hit.

  She closed her eyes and rubbed them. Was she viewing the prosecution of Marcus Caprezio as payback? And if so, would she push harder than normal, maybe even invite retaliation from the first family of crime in Minnesota? She shuddered and opened her eyes.

  They hadn’t been able to convict in the past, but she had no doubt whatsoever that Caprezio Sr. wasn’t above murder when it came to protecting his organization. And now his only son was on trial for murder. How far would Alphonze Caprezio go to stop the wheels of justice from putting Marcus away for life?

  Dana took a deep breath and placed her hands on her desk. She had to let go of those suspicions from the past if she was going to do an honest and competent job of prosecuting Marcus for this current indictment. With renewed determination, she powered up her computer and pulled up his file.

  IT WAS ALMOST SEVEN when Dana arrived home to find the scene in the kitchen very much the way she’d left it that morning. Only instead of doing repair work, Nico was at the stove, whipping up something with a heavenly fragrance. And Krystal, a lazy child by nature, was busily setting the table as she chatted with Nico, her voice and movements very upbeat.

  “Did I miss something in your job description?” Dana asked, peering over Nico’s shoulder at the pan that contained the source of that wonderful smell.

  He edged her away and scolded, “No lid lifting, please. It slows down the cooking.”

  “Well, ex-cuu-use, me!” With a sniff of feigned hurt, Dana went to the sink to wash her hands. She suppressed a giggle. Slows down the cooking, indeed. Big deal. It wasn’t as if he was creating some exotic gourmet dish like veal piccata, for heaven’s sake. More likely a Hamburger Helper-type thing. She turned to Krystal as she dried her hands.

  “Isn’t that the good china, Krys?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, we usually save that for special occasions, don’t we?”

  The little girl frowned at her, putting her hands on her hips. “Mommy, family is more important than outsiders. Why would you want to put your best foot forward for strangers and give only your second best to your own fa
mily?”

  Mouth agape, Dana turned from the child to the man. “You’re teaching philosophy to eight-year-olds now, Scalia?”

  Nico shrugged. “Works for me.” He cast a fond grin at Krystal. “And she’s a good student.”

  “Humph.” Dana sat down in her accustomed place at the table, wincing at the sight of the damask napkins she kept carefully wrapped in plastic to keep from yellowing.

  She might have felt less grumpy if Nico’s point hadn’t been well taken. After all, who was more important than one’s own family? What she didn’t need was for Krystal to learn it from someone else, particularly the handsome, devil-may-care type dishing up…veal piccata?

  “Ohhh,” she sighed, “I might have known.” The sigh became a moan at the first taste of perfection.

  Nico accepted the implied compliment with a nod and a grin: “The kid said it was your favorite dish.”

  He was complacently forking a side of spaghetti al pesto onto Dana’s plate as Krystal said, “I’m not a kid.”

  Then Dana said, “Don’t call her ‘the kid.’” He looked from one to the other and they all laughed.

  For a moment Dana had a sense of déjò vu, her mind glimpsing past memories of a man, woman, and child laughing over a meal at this very table. The spasm of memory turned to pain as she observed the bright look on her daughter’s face. It wasn’t that Dana was male dependent. Not at all. Nor even that she was still grieving over Zack. But she knew Krystal missed having a dad, having a sense of a complete, normal family life.

  As if reading her thoughts, Nico said, “This could become a nice habit.”

  Dana shuddered and put down her fork. “For your information, Mr. Scalia, we weren’t eating bologna sandwiches and frozen dinners before tonight, and let’s not forget this is a temporary situation.” She turned and gave Krystal a warning look that deterred anything the little girl might have been about to say.