Guardian in Disguise Read online

  Well, she wasn’t ready to take up any causes yet. She was still feeling too bruised by the loss of her beloved career. Too bruised by the failing newspaper industry that had made it impossible for her to find another job and necessary for her to teach when she’d rather do.

  She was lucky, she told herself. A lot of her friends who had been laid off had had to leave journalism behind.

  Just keep that in mind, she told herself as she eased away from Dex and made her way to the door. You’re lucky. Even if you don’t feel like you are.

  * * *

  Summer warmth lingered, even with the earlier twilight and Liza chose to walk. Her apartment was only a few blocks away from the relatively new campus, and not too far from the semiconductor plant that had brought brief prosperity to the town before falling prey to an economic downswing and laying off about half its work force.

  Most of those people had been forced to leave town, which meant the apartments were no longer full and rents had fallen. Given her salary as an adjunct, she supposed she should be grateful for that. But she really would have preferred living in the older part of town, seedy as some of it was, to living in the new sprawl that had been added over that past ten or so years.

  Something had sure put her in a morose mood, she realized as she strode down sidewalks fronted by young trees. And here she thought she’d been getting over herself.

  Maybe it wasn’t so easy to lose a job you loved and then have to move halfway across the country for a new one, even if it was a matter of coming home. Except home had changed since she had left to go to college fourteen years ago. Some things looked the same, but they didn’t feel the same.

  You can never come home again. The old saying wafted through her mind and she decided it was true. The town had changed a bit, but so had she. And maybe the changes in her were the most momentous ones.

  She sighed, the sound lost as the evening breeze ruffled the leaves of the scrawny little trees.

  Well, at least there was now Max McKenny to stretch her underworked brain muscles again. Her mind immediately served up another mental image of him, and she had to smother a smile lest she be seen walking all alone down the street, grinning like an idiot.

  But she wanted to grin, for a variety of reasons. She’d seen how the girls went after an attractive teacher, and he was more attractive than most. Heck, she’d done a bit of it herself in college. All you had to do was stare intently, longingly, and you could fluster an inexperienced teacher. You didn’t even have to follow them into their offices to rattle them and make them nervous. She wondered if Max had any idea what he might be in for being a new and interesting man in an area that didn’t often see new guys.

  She bit back a giggle.

  Yup, he was in for it. And since she wasn’t entirely immune herself, she would willingly bet he was going to have a lot to contend with.

  Oh, he was yummy all right. She couldn’t exactly put her finger on the reason. He was good-looking enough, but not star quality. No, it was more that he projected some kind of aura, the way he stood, a man supremely confident in his manhood, she guessed. No apologies there. Yet he hadn’t struck her as cocky, which made him all the better.

  She hated cocky men. She’d had too many cocky editors and interviewed too many cocky politicians.

  So that was a definite mark in his favor. He’d been pleasant enough, and friendly enough. Polite. Respectful.

  And oh so unrevealing.

  That part she didn’t like. Quickening her pace, she reached her building and trotted up the stairs. Her computer was still on, and she dropped her keys on the table as she hurried to it.

  She wished she had all the resources she had once had as a reporter. But at least she had enough to begin her search into his background.

  She started at the college’s website, knowing they had to say at least something about his qualifications.

  Maxwell McKenny, adjunct instructor, criminology. B.S. University of Michigan, J.D. Stetson University College of Law. Eight years law enforcement experience.

  Good heavens, he had a law degree? A beat cop with a law degree? What in the world was he doing here in the back of nowhere? With that Juris Doctor degree he shouldn’t have wound up teaching at a minuscule junior college in Wyoming.

  And Stetson was in Florida, her old stomping grounds. He couldn’t have gotten that degree while working for any Michigan police department. Which must mean he’d gotten it before he went to work as a cop, or after he had quit.

  And why, when she had told him she’d worked as a reporter in Florida, hadn’t he made the natural comment that he’d gone to law school there?

  Because he had indeed been deflecting her.

  Her nose twitched and her curiosity rose to new heights. Leaning forward again, she began a search of the American Bar Association. If he’d been admitted to the bar, he should be there somewhere.

  “I’m going to find out who you are, Max,” she muttered as she began her searches.

  Because something is smelling like three-day-old fish.

  * * *

  Max rode back to the La-Z-Rest motel on his Harley, a hog he enjoyed immensely as the weather allowed and had missed during his last assignment. Soon he was going to have to find some old beater to get him through the winter, but for now he was free to enjoy the sensation of huge power beneath him and little to slow him down on the road. Not that he sped. He did nothing to draw unnecessary attention.

  Although he’d evidently gotten the attention of Liza Enders, former journalist. Just what he needed: a reporter interested in him. Being noticed was anathema, and something he was trying very hard to avoid right now.

  Then that temptress with the cat-green eyes had come striding across the room, and he’d stood there like a starstruck kid when he should have ducked, watching her rounded hips move, noticing her nicely sized breasts, drinking in her shiny, long auburn hair.

  Idiot. He should have moved away the instant he realized she had focused on him. But how was he supposed to have guessed she was a reporter? All he’d noticed was that the loveliest faculty member in the room was walking his way.

  Thinking with his small head, he thought disgustedly as he roared into the parking slot in front of his room. Responding with his gonads. He never did that. Not anymore.

  It was too dangerous.

  Frustrated with himself, he turned off the ignition, dismounted and kicked the stand into place. He gave the hog a pat then headed into his room.

  Once there, he flopped on his back on the bed and clasped his hands behind his head. On the ceiling above him was a water spot that looked pretty much like the state of Texas.

  He played over the conversation in his mind again, recalling everything he had told her. Not much. That and the brief CV the college printed wouldn’t really tell her a thing.

  Well, except for that freaking law degree. She would probably find that odd for a beat cop, but he couldn’t be the only one who had a J.D. So what if the reporter dug a little more? What would she find?

  Very little. He wasn’t even using his real name, not that that would make a difference. He’d gone so far to ground that even his real name wouldn’t yield anything except possibly a birth date.

  He was a man who didn’t exist. And it had to stay that way for a while yet.

  So why the hell had he allowed himself to be blinded by a pretty face and a luscious figure into holding still long enough to have a conversation? She’d been trying to get information about him. He was smart enough to know that. Many had tried over the years.

  But maybe her curiosity was just passing. Maybe she’d let it go.

  He’d have to keep an eye on her, that was for sure. If she started prying too much, he would have to hit the road. Not that he wanted to. He kind of liked the gig they’d set him up with here, in a place where you could spot a stranger from a hundred miles.

  He kind of liked the thought of teaching. And even though he’d been here for only a short while, he kind of li
ked this town, too.

  Finally he pulled his cell phone out of its holster and punched a number he tried not to call too often. One he definitely never put on speed dial and always erased from the phone’s memory of recent calls.

  “Ames here,” said a familiar voice.

  “Max.”

  “Oh, man, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure. I just got the inquisition from a reporter. Are you sure my background holds up?”

  “Considering how many databases we had to modify, yeah. It had better.”

  “A J.D. looks pretty funny hanging off a beat cop.”

  “Not if that cop wants to be a detective someday. Or run for prosecutor. Or teach at a college. Take your pick.”

  Max sighed and ran an impatient hand through his hair. “Okay.”

  “Why? Did she say she was going to check into you?”

  “No, but her eyes did.”

  Ames surprised him with a laugh. “She must be pretty.”

  “You could say that. Why?”

  “You noticed her eyes. Okay, we’ll keep tabs on it. What’s her name?”

  “Liza Enders.”

  “Got it. What paper is she with?”

  “None. She teaches at the college, too.”

  “All right. I’ll blow the whistle if anything looks suspicious. In the meantime, I think one of our nerds can make sure she runs around the maypole a few times if she tries to crack your background.”

  “Thanks, buddy.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. Need anything else?”

  “No, that was it.”

  He put the phone away and resumed his contemplation of the ceiling. It wasn’t long, though, before he was seeing Liza Enders rather than the Texas water spot.

  She sure was an attractive armful. He didn’t go for the skinny women who looked more like boys, and no one would mistake Liza Enders for a boy.

  She might be a great reporter, but he was better at a far more dangerous game. He knew from long experience how to cover his butt. And there was entirely too much at stake to let a reporter blow it.

  His life, for one thing. And the lives of other innocents, too. Not to mention if he let anyone close to him, they could get caught in the cross fire.

  He had to find a way to keep her distant.

  He closed his eyes. At least it was safe to fantasize about her. It would never be more than that, but he’d been living on fantasies for a long time.

  One more surely wouldn’t hurt.

  Growing hot and heavy, he imagined removing the clothes from Liza’s curvy body.

  Nope, it couldn’t hurt.

  * * *

  He awoke in a cold sweat and sat bolt upright with his heart pounding. The room was dark except for a nervous strip of blinking red neon light that crept between the curtains.

  For an instant he couldn’t remember where he was. For an instant he wondered if someone had entered the room while he slept.

  Reaching out, he found the pistol on his bedside table and thumbed off the safety. Was someone in the room with him? He listened, but heard nothing except the whine of truck tires on the state highway outside.

  At last he flipped on the bedside light. Empty. Shoving himself off the bed he checked the tiny bathroom. He was all alone, the door still locked.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, pistol still in hand, he waited for the adrenaline to wash away. Nightmares. He’d had a few of them in his time.

  Dimly he remembered some of it. They’d found him. Yes, that was it. They’d found him. They surrounded him and threatened him and kept demanding his real name.

  He hadn’t been able to remember it. And each time he failed, they hit him again. It may have been a dream, but his head and stomach felt as if those blows had been real.

  And Liza. She’d been there, too, demanding his identity.

  As if he had one anymore.

  Crap. He thumbed the safety on again and put the pistol on the table. Now he felt cold from the sweat drenching. He needed a shower, but didn’t feel safe enough to take one. Not yet.

  That damn reporter was going to be a problem. He had to get rid of her somehow.

  This might look like a game to her, but for him it was life or death.

  Chapter 2

  By morning, Liza’s curiosity had only grown. Max McKenny had indeed graduated from the University of Michigan and Stetson College of Law, both with high honors. Beyond that, she hadn’t found a thing, even when she searched Michigan newspapers for his name, thinking he might have been on a case that had gotten some publicity.

  But responding cops seldom made the news unless something spectacular came down. Unless a cop was involved in a shoot-out or something equally serious, only the Public Information Officer talked to the press, rarely mentioning the specific cops involved. Very often the names of the first responders never rose to the surface of awareness. So Max might just have had a dull career.

  The lack of information wasn’t terribly surprising, except that there was no record at all of any Maxwell McKennys in Michigan. It wasn’t a common name, and that should have made her job easier. Instead, her search was giving her a blank wall.

  The American Bar Association had proved opaque. If it had a public membership directory, it wasn’t available online. Checking state licensing boards, as she’d learned long ago, was a total wash if you didn’t get the name exactly right. Maxwell McKenny, if listed as Maxwell D. McKenny, would never show up in a search.

  Ah, well.

  She tried to force her attention back to the day’s work ahead and forget she’d awakened from a dream that morning about a gorgeous hunk of manhood who resembled Max. Not entirely, but close enough that she couldn’t fool her waking brain into thinking it had just been a generalized dream.

  Maybe part of her problem was that it had been way too long since she’d had a boyfriend, something which had everything to do with her former career. There were just so many times you could break a date before a guy went looking elsewhere. Which pretty much meant she had to date other reporters who would understand her schedule, except most of the single men in her newsroom just hadn’t appealed to her. There had been one guy—but she cut that thought off with a scythe. She was not going there.

  So maybe she was just focusing on Max because a hunk had walked into view. Maybe this was all some kind of female reaction and not her nose for news at all.

  A Harley roared by her as she strode down the sidewalk toward campus, and even from the back she could see it was Max, helmet notwithstanding. Of course. He would have a Harley, big and black, a machine that throbbed with energy and a deep-throated roar. It fit.

  Hadn’t she read somewhere that motorcycle cops had thrown fits in some state when officials had wanted to replace their Harleys with something less expensive? Apparently other motorcycles just didn’t sound as good.

  Or something. That had been a long time ago, and she couldn’t even remember where she’d read it. Maybe Max had been a motorcycle cop. That would have made his life more boring than most, though handing out traffic tickets was one of the most dangerous jobs cops faced. Even so, most motorcycle cops never ran into any real trouble.

  And almost none of them made the news.

  She shook her head at herself, deciding she was probably making a mountain out of a molehill. It wasn’t as if her instincts were infallible. She could be very wrong about this.

  Much to her amazement, the Harley stopped at the corner and pulled a U-turn, coming back to idle beside her. “Want a lift?” Max asked as he raised the smoky visor that concealed his face.

  She was tempted to tell him no, that she enjoyed walking on such a lovely morning, and that would have been true. But equally true was the fact that she hadn’t been on a motorcycle since her college days, and she’d liked it back then. It was tempting.

  Even more tempting was wrapping her arms around his waist and discovering if his stomach was as hard and flat as it had looked in that T-shirt. Having her legs exten
ded around his.

  Was she losing her mind? Common sense reared. “Thanks,” she said, “but no helmet.”

  He flipped open a steel compartment on the side of the hog and pulled one out. “I always carry an extra.” Reaching out, he strapped it to her head, securing it beneath her chin. “You done this before?”

  “A long, long time ago.” Part of her wanted to rebel at the way he was taking charge, but another, stronger part of her really wanted to ride behind him on that bike.

  So he guided her onto the seat behind him, warning her about the exhaust pipes, and helped her place her feet properly.

  “Lean with me,” he reminded her, and then she was sailing toward the school with her arms and legs wrapped around him, thinking how envious all those young girls were going to be when they saw this.

  The thought startled her, it was so juvenile, and she laughed out loud at herself.

  “It’s fun, isn’t it,” his muffled voice said, misunderstanding the source of her laughter. There was certainly no reason to tell him the truth.

  Well, she could now testify that his stomach was hard and flat beneath the leather jacket, and the thighs she was pressed against were every bit as hard. Being wrapped around him this way was causing a deep throbbing in her center.

  Oh, man, she had it bad. The bug had bitten. Knowing not one thing about him, really, she wanted to have sex with him. Shouldn’t she have outgrown that a long time ago?

  All too soon he pulled them into a faculty parking slot, and seconds later the engine’s roar choked off.

  “Wow,” she said. “I haven’t done that in so long.”

  “Maybe one Saturday before the weather turns cold I’ll take her out on the mountain roads,” he said easily. “I’ll bet it’s beautiful up there.”

  “Right now especially.”

  He twisted, offering one arm to help her lever herself off the bike. She was honestly sorry when her feet hit firm ground again. Reluctantly, she reached up to unsnap the helmet.

  “That was awesome,” she admitted as she handed the helmet back, then watched him stow it. “Thanks.”