This can’t be happening. District attorney Julia Davenport leaned back against the gray marble kitchen counter with the television remote gripped tightly in her hand, watching the press conference. On the court house steps, Morgan, the bastard who she suspected had a hand in her daughter’s kidnapping, stood with his high priced lawyer, Sutton Sawyer.
Six feet and movie star good looks, Sawyer played with the cameras. The snake was smooth, she’d give him that.
“My client has been released on bail,” Sawyer said.
“But isn’t it true your client is considered highly dangerous?” The blonde from the local Los Angles station pushed to the front.
“That is mere speculation. There’s no evidence to back up their claims that my client is anything other than a businessman. The district attorney’s office is being overzealous in its prosecution of this man. Considering the police corruption uncovered over the last few weeks, I’d say they need to clean up their own house before they start pointing fingers. My client was framed.”
She inhaled sharply. How could he even be suggesting that Morgan had been framed? The man had a thick police file. The District Attorney’s office had never had the evidence to bring him to trial before now. But that didn’t mean he was framed.
The reporter turned to Morgan. Taller than Sawyer, he stood in expensive casual clothes. His black hair was pulled back in a leather band. He wore power and confidence as easily as he did his clothes.
“Do you have a comment?” A deep-voiced reporter blurted out.
Morgan looked straight into the camera with those disturbing amber eyes. She could feel his gaze intent on hers even though he was on television. Julia wanted to look away, but she could not.
“This is a grave misunderstanding,” Morgan said evenly. The look in his eyes dared anyone to dispute him. “I’m sure the district attorney’s office will come to the same conclusion and the charges will be dropped.”
One way or another.
Julia’s back stiffened. She heard the words as clearly as if he had spoken them. How could that be? She shook her head.
You’ve been warned.
Her breath caught in her throat. He was threatening her. She could feel it in every cell of her body. But how? He was on television downtown. How could she feel this connection?
“Is it true, Sawyer, that the district attorney is dropping the charges?” The perky blond asked.
“No one can predict what the DA will do, but I have confidence in my case.”
The camera panned back to Morgan and she could feel his eyes hold hers.
Walk away from this fight.
It happened again. She heard that light accented baritone voice in her head. But how? Julia couldn’t breathe, move or change the channel even though they had gone to a commercial break.
The first few notes of Dixie played from a car horn, breaking her spell. She didn’t have to hear the cries of “Mommy” or the excited bark of the dog to know that Ashley was home from her grandparents’ house.
She touched her bare right wrist. What could have happened to the charm bracelet Ashley had given her for Mother’s Day? Ashley would be crushed if she knew her mother had lost it. She had it Thursday when she went to court. At least she thought she did. Where could it be?
Before she could prepare herself, the front door flew open and in burst Ashley with Winston, her parent’s Westie, bounding beside her.
“You’ll never guess what we did?”
The mouse ears and princess t-shirt were a big clue.
“Today was eat the princesses day, so Grandpa and I had to go. Grandma was getting beautiful, so she stayed in the desert.”
She caught Ashley’s bouncing, eager body in mid-jump. Winston jumped excitedly around her feet.
“I though we agreed that you wouldn’t take her somewhere so public,” she mouthed to her father.
He shrugged. “It beats watching the tube. Besides, we couldn’t miss dine with the princesses day, now could we?”
Julia rolled her eyes. If the press only knew what a pushover the usually stern Senator Reece Barrington was when it came to his granddaughter. They would laugh to see the usually distinguished, once feared head of the armed services committee, clad in a cartoon Hawaiian shirt and loud neon orange shorts.
Ashley’s little hands came up to frame her face, pulling it around so their eyes could meet. “I didn’t tell you the best part. Grandpa gots me my very own superhero, so the bad guys can’t ever get me again.”
It was then she noticed the tall, lean man standing back by the door. This was her daughter’s protector? He wasn’t the usual type her father hired. They usually looked like they stepped out of a pro-wrestling ring. He looked more like he stepped off the set of a soap opera.
“A superhero, huh?” She raised her brows skeptically.
Ashley laughed. “Not now, Mommy. He’s in his regular guy suit, like Clark Kent. But when I need him, Grandpa says he’ll be legal.”
Her father chuckled. “That’s lethal, Ash.”
Great, her daughter now knew words that should never be in her vocabulary.
She turned to the man dressed in a white tee shirt covered with an open loose Hawaiian shirt, blue shorts and Nikes. Did he look lethal? It was hard to tell with his pretty face and easy grin. He had short tussled blond hair that had been carelessly spiked. His brown eyes held hers. In them, she saw a seriousness that his causal pose did not share.
“Mommy.” Ashley grabbed her face again. “You don’t even know the bestest part.”
She couldn’t help but smile at her daughter’s excited expression. “What’s that, sweetie?”
“Grandpa gots you a superhero too. Grandpa says he is the mother of all superheroes. Grandma says….”
The words blurred in Julia’s ears as she flashed her father a look that told him what she thought of his graphic description and he had the good graces to blush.
The mother of all superheroes. She turned to stare at the larger, hulking man standing behind her daughter’s superhero. Hells bells, her father had gotten her a bodyguard, too.
And what a bodyguard. He did indeed look like--what did Ashley call him--the mother of all superheroes. All six foot plus of him. The other man and her father where large men, but this man was a solid wall of muscle. She could see even from across the room that he filled out his dark shirt and snug jeans.
“It’s okay to say hi, Mommy. They don’t bite.”
Not unless she wanted him to, she was sure.
Take control, Julia. She shifted Ashley to one hip. Talk to them one at time. Ashley’s superhero seemed less imposing, so she turned to him first, extending her hand. “I’m Julia Davenport.”
Her daughter’s superhero enveloped her hand in a steady grip. His hand was warm and calloused, suggesting he did something other than just stand around.
He gave her a half smile. “Senator Barrington wasn’t lying when said he had two pretty lasses that needed protecting. I’m Rogan Malone at your service.”
The rich Irish brogue surprised her.
The hulk loudly cleared his throat and Rogan rolled his eyes as he released her hand.
“Just say the word and I’ll protect you from this charmer.” The hulk’s smooth, deep voice sent a shiver of delight up her spine.
“And you are?” She couldn’t help letting her eyes roam over him.
“Flynn.” His large, battle-scarred hand took hers.
“I feel so much better knowing you’ll rush in to save me from myself.”
His serious gray eyes didn’t waver. “Are you teasing me?” His tone more a demand than question.
“Flynn doesn’t have a sense of humor.” Rogan put in.
Great, where had her father found this fast-talking Irishman and his hulking buddy?
Don’t be intimidated, Julia. “So you’re a real life superheroes?”
Flynn’s eyes darkened as he released her hand. An emotion she couldn’t name flickered across his face.
“I’m nobody’s hero,” he said softly. “But I promise we’ll keep you and your little girl safe.”
