Cavanaugh Watch. Marie Ferrarella

been something about the man when she’d initially looked at him, an aura of danger mixed with an edginess close to the surface. She could readily believe that he was part of the same criminal network as Marco Wayne. But her brother didn’t actually know anyone like that any more than she “knew” Tony Wayne. She had only met him once, at his arraignment. He’d looked like a scared kid and she’d almost felt sorry for him.

      Dax nodded to one of the officers who looked his way as he answered his sister’s question. “I know him. By sight and by reputation.”

      She tried not to let her impatience get the better of her. Dax didn’t make it easy. “By reputation?” she echoed. “What is he, Zorro?”

      He was doing this on purpose, she thought, dispensing information at the breakneck speed of an arthritic snail. When they’d been kids, this would have ended up with her bringing him down and sitting on him until he told her what she wanted to know. She doubted if Woods or the two officers would be very understanding if she tackled her brother on the steps of the county courthouse.

      He laughed. “You hit closer than you think.”

      “Dax—” There was a warning note in her voice.

      “That’s Sawyer Boone.” She looked at him blankly. The name meant nothing to her. “Detective Sawyer Boone,” Dax elaborated. “He used to work undercover—like Zorro.” He laughed to himself. “First time I’ve ever seen him clean-shaven.”

      “Detective,” Janelle repeated. “As in, the police force and not a P.I.?” Her brother nodded. “That would explain it.”

      “Explain what?”

      She unconsciously rotated her shoulder. It felt a little sore. She had no doubt that by tomorrow, it would feel a lot sore. As probably would other parts of her anatomy. “When the shooting started, he threw himself on top of me.”

      Dax nodded, as if he’d expected nothing less. “He might have saved your life.” They wouldn’t know until the crime scene investigators determined where all the bullets had ultimately landed.

      “He might have broken my neck,” she countered. The man had been heavy. And quick. “Let’s just call it a draw.” She saw Dax shake his head at her. “What?” she asked.

      “Someday you’re going to have to admit that you can’t single-handedly conquer everything.”

      Janelle patted his face several times with a hand that grew progressively heavier. “I’ll let you know when that someday comes. You can bring the noisemakers and the party hats.”

      He laughed. “Count on it.” As he spoke to her, Dax watched the officers take down information from the people who had been caught in the hail of bullets. “You’re going to need protection.”

      The statement had come out of nowhere. Janelle refused to entertain the words seriously. “From Detective Boone?”

      Dax wasn’t smiling now. “From Wayne and his organization.”

      Oh no, don’t you start worrying on me. It was bad enough she knew that their father was concerned about the element of people she dealt with. She didn’t need this from her brother.

      “We still haven’t proven that he was even behind this,” she insisted.

      “Better to err on the side of caution—”

      Caution was the last word she would have associated with Dax. When he was nine, he’d wanted to leap off the roof with a blue towel tied around his neck to see if he could fly. She’d been the one to run off to get their father before Dax could turn his dream into a reality.

      “Since when?” she scoffed.

      “Since I found out that the application form for getting a new sister was ten pages long,” he cracked. He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Besides, I don’t want a new sister. I’ve spent too much time breaking you in. You’re one of a kind, Nelle. They don’t make them like you anymore. Thank God.” Hooking his arm around her neck, he kissed the top of her head. “You need a bodyguard,” he told her simply. “You and Woods as well as the witness he has stashed away.”

      So he knew about that, too. God, was nothing sacred? She supposed that most of the department had to know by now. And since, Internal Affairs would readily tell her, not every single member could be counted on to take the Boy Scout oath in complete sincerity, that meant that the so-called “secret” about bringing Tony Wayne to trial was an open one.

      Had to happen sooner or later. She was just hoping for later.

      Janelle pressed her lips together. As with everything else, she’d make the best of it. What other choice did she have?

      But a bodyguard, well, that was another matter. She was not about to readily accept that as her fate. Not without a fight.

      She glanced over toward the bottom of the concrete steps and saw that Woods was finished giving his statement to the officer. Her turn next, she supposed.

      “If worst comes to worst, you and the family can all hold hands and rally around me,” she quipped. “Until then, I have a case to prepare for.” Which would happen right after she gave her statement, Janelle thought. She paused just long enough to tug on his sleeve in order to bring him down to her level. As he inclined his head, she kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, big brother. See you around.”

      “See you around,” he echoed.

      About to walk toward the officer closest to her, Janelle stopped in her tracks and turned back to look at Dax. She didn’t like his tone. She’d been around him far too long not to be able to pick up on the nuances in her brother’s voice. There was an underlying promise in it that she knew she wasn’t going to be happy about. Did he plan on being her bodyguard? Or was he somehow going to be instrumental in finding a bodyguard for her?

      Rather than call him on it, she let it go. Maybe if she ignored the threat, it would go away.

      The next few minutes were spent telling the tall officer, Liam O’Hara, what she’d seen right before the shots. She had little to offer because she’d been engaged in conversation with the A.D.A. just before the gunman or gunmen had started shooting.

      Officer O’Hara smiled politely as he made notations, then let her go. She almost flew down the steps to join Woods. She had a lot to do today before she could lock up her desk and drag her weary and progressively sorer body home tonight. If they were going to nail Tony Wayne for the crimes he was accused of, she had to make sure the nails were all straight and still available. Neither Woods nor their boss, D.A. Kleinmann, wanted any surprises at the trial once it got underway.

      Ezra Kleinmann was the kind of man everyone noticed the moment he entered a room. There was nothing meek, nothing quiet about him. His mere presence spoke volumes even if he didn’t utter a word. He had a bearing about him that proclaimed he was someone to be reckoned with. And never to be underestimated or crossed.

      For one thing, he stood six foot five. For another, he carried a formidable amount of weight on that frame. For the most part, this weight was evenly distributed, but no one was ever going to think of the once-famed criminal lawyer as being undernourished. When he spoke, it was with a booming voice and authority. And no one, if they wanted to advance within the offices of the district attorney, disregarded what he had to say. Ever.

      But the moment she walked into his office and saw the look on Kleinmann’s face, a part of Janelle began to rebel, expecting the worst. She knew something was coming. Something she wasn’t going to like. Obviously someone—she was betting on Dax—had called the district attorney and informed him of the shooting incident before they had ever reached their destination. The moment she and Woods had returned to the building where the government offices were housed, they’d been immediately summoned to Kleinmann’s office.

      Sitting at the custom-made desk he’d brought with him when he’d first assumed office more than eighteen years ago, Kleinmann placed his wide palms on the edge of the blotter