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She shook her head “No, that’s okay. It’s getting late, and he doesn’t even know I’m here. I’ll come back in the morning. I think I’d just like to go home.”
Jason knew she meant the house in Sea Cliff, where she had grown up. “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he told her. “The house is an active crime scene, and the investigators are still gathering possible clues.”
“Oh.” Her brows knitted together as she considered this. “Okay. Then I’ll find a hotel.”
“I already booked a suite of rooms for us at the Fairmont. It’s close to the hospital, and the security there is excellent.”
Jason saw something like panic flash in her eyes. “Us?” she repeated.
“Until this thing is over, I’m your personal protection detail,” he reminded her. “Where you go, I go.”
“Like a bodyguard? Is that really necessary?” Caroline clenched her hands at her sides, and her voice sounded a little desperate. “You said yourself that the security at the hotel is excellent. It’s my father who needs the protection, not me. Why can’t you just stay here, with him?”
“Not an option,” he said grimly. “There are two men standing guard outside the room and two more downstairs. Your father is secure—my job is to ensure your safety. If you’re ready to go, we’ll leave.”
“Oh, my God, this is crazy,” she muttered and rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. The movement caused her blouse to stretch tautly across her breasts, and Jason tried not to notice the faintest shadow of her nipples beneath the lacy fabric of her bra. After a moment, she sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay in a hotel if you insist, but I’d like to stop by the house first. I want to see where my father was shot.”
Jason hesitated. He was sworn to protect her at all costs. And not just from physical danger. Seeing her father fighting for his life in a hospital was bad enough. Witnessing the evidence of the violence that had sent him there, splattered across her front porch, was another thing altogether. He didn’t want her exposed to that kind of ugliness.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He watched as her eyes narrowed and she tipped her chin up in a gesture that he remembered too well. “I’m not a child anymore, Jason.”
He hadn’t even seen the crime scene, although he had a good idea of what to expect. But she had been sheltered and pampered her entire life. Neither her expensive education nor her law degree would have prepared her for the rawness of what he suspected awaited her at her father’s house. But he was beginning to understand that she was right—she was no longer a child, and there were some things even he couldn’t protect her from.
“Fine,” he said in a clipped tone. “Let’s go.”
With a satisfied nod, she pushed past him and strode into the hallway, leaving him with no choice but to follow her. Just outside the hospital room, he paused to withdraw a small surveillance earpiece from his pocket and insert it, ensuring communication with the rest of his team. As he adjusted the earpiece, he didn’t miss how the two guards sitting outside the hospital room followed Caroline’s progress with their eyes. Not that he blamed them. She was a beautiful woman, and her hips swung enticingly with each determined stride. She’d taken about ten steps when she stopped and turned.
“Are you coming?” she demanded. “How are you going to protect me if you can’t even keep up with me?”
Without waiting for a reply, she continued toward the exit. Jason exchanged a knowing look with the two guards before following her. As he reached her side, he acknowledged soberly that while he could protect Caroline from whatever dangers might lie in wait outside the hospital, he wasn’t sure he could protect her from himself.
3
AS THE CAR drew up in front of her father’s house, Caroline could feel Jason’s eyes on her. She knew that he was unhappy with her request to view the crime scene. She couldn’t explain to him her need to see where the horrific event had happened, to be able to visualize what had occurred when her father had answered the door. She hoped, too, that maybe she could help the investigators. Perhaps she would see something they had overlooked.
But whatever she had expected to see, it wasn’t the police cruisers and unmarked vehicles parked in front of the house and in the driveway. Several news vans were parked along the street, and it was only the quick action of the police that kept the reporters from mobbing their car as they pulled up to the curb.
