Read Protector for Free Online Page B

on the payroll for that.”
    She tamped down the sting. She should have kept her mouth shut. “I’ll just go then. You should try to rest.”
    She moved toward the doorway, the need to hug him a force almost stronger than her pride. Why couldn’t she fly into his arms the way she had with Bear? Bear had to be every bit as guilty as her father. Any employee that high up in her father’s chain couldn’t have clean hands.
    “Hold on,” he said.
    She hung her head, waiting without turning. That London garret was looking better by the minute.
    “Jolynn Taylor.”
    Lifting her chin, she faced him. “What, old man?”
    He struggled to speak, but a fit of coughing stopped him. She flinched at the labored breathing. Concern smoked through her brain. Had she been told everything about his condition?
    “Want you to do something.” Her father coughed again and clutched the small hospital pillow against his rib cage.
    Why couldn’t they just hug each other instead? “What, Dad?”
    “When you go back to Dallas, stay there this time.” He gripped the pillow and coughed again, the fluid rumble resonating.
    Watching him struggle to breathe past the pain, Jolynn wondered how he still held the power to confuse her, to sting her feelings. She hadn’t expected a brass band reception, but had hoped for something more than this. She hated him for hurting her and loved him simply for existing.
    But while she’d chosen a different— more honest— path than his, she was still his daughter, with a nose for a scam. Something more was going on here. The new suspicion made her dig in her heels. She would never have that traditional safe place with her father that other daughters seemedto have so effortlessly. But she could stick around and fight for him to stay clean long enough to get well. She wasn’t going anywhere just yet.
    “When are you going to realize I’m your daughter? I’ll leave when I’m damn well ready.” Feeling as weary as her father looked, Jolynn shoved through the door and came face-to-face with Charles Tomas.

F OUR

     
    Chuck drummed his fingers against the coffee mug cradled in his hands and wondered how long Hebert would maintain the staring contest across the waiting room. Not that this looked like any waiting room he’d ever seen.
    God, he hated hospitals. Even the scent of Italian java steaming upward couldn’t disguise the antiseptic scent.
    He’d spent over six months having his body pinned back together again. There hadn’t been enough morphine to kill the pain. And the stark military facilities had been far from “homey” with steel-framed industrial furniture and medical personnel in uniform. They’d patched him up. He’d even had his head shrunk by a Freud wannabe in camo.
    After all he’d been through, there wasn’t much Hebert Benoit— parked in some kind of antique throne— could do to intimidate him. The old dude was worse than some father on a front porch with a shotgun. Of course, knowing that Benoit served as Taylor’s unofficial bodyguard added anextra level of danger beyond the mundane threat of a Remington double barrel.
    Benoit cracked the knuckles of one fist against his other palm. Chuck kept his hands loose on the arms of his chair and counted the many ways he could disable the man, using only his pinky. Benoit reached into a leather bag on the floor by the carved mahogany chair legs.
    Chuck tensed.
    Okay, he might be willing to use both hands, if need be. Or even his Beretta tucked coolly against his back.
    Benoit pulled out a brown paper sack. Chuck scooted to the edge of his seat. Was Jolynn worth the added risk?
    An image of her chagrined look after she’d fixed the Maserati flashed through his head.
    He caught himself up short. She wasn’t his reason for being here. The investigation, putting his past to rest, and most important of all, stopping a possible terrorist attack— that’s why he was hanging out in a five-star luxury rehab with an overprotective