Yuletide Protector. Julie MillerЧитать онлайн книгу.
on the charm? “You’re the woman who thinks I hurt you.”
“Thinks?” The trembling stopped. Was some steel creeping into that delicate backbone of hers? Or was she on the verge of passing out?
“Brian,” Kenna Parker warned. “Don’t say another word.”
Mara Elliott tried to get him moving, too. “Darling, we need to go.”
“Don’t darling me—!” The cuffs that linked Elliott’s wrist jangled as he jerked against them.
Bailey’s hand jerked in Spencer’s grip. Good. Not passing out.
He snapped an order to the two unis. “Get him out of here.”
The brief show of anger quickly passed, and, with the officers grabbing hold of Brian Elliott, the perp raised his hands in calm surrender. “I’m all right, dear,” he apologized to his ex. “I’ve got this, Kenna.” Then he turned his attention back to Spencer. “I’m sorry for what happened to your friend there. Yes, I’ve made some mistakes, but I’m not the monster you think I am. The man you want is still out there, Montgomery, lying in wait to hurt some other helpless woman.” He gestured to the women there to support him, as if their presence was proof of his innocence. “I’m no serial rapist.”
Maybe Spencer’s command hadn’t been clear. “Go. Now.”
A brunette woman, wearing a coat over her suit, and holding a cell phone to her ear, came around the corner and stopped. Her dark eyes widened as she took in the confrontation in the hallway. “Mr. Elliott?” Regina Hollister, Brian Elliott’s executive assistant, paused for a moment, then asked the party on her call to wait while she joined the group. “I have your car waiting for us out front. Is everything all right?”
“Get him out of here.” Or Spencer would do the job himself.
The two officers pulled Elliott into step between them. Kenna Parker hurried ahead to consult with Elliott’s assistant. “Out front where the reporters are?”
Regina nodded and put her cell phone back to her ear. “I’ll ask the driver to meet us someplace else.”
“No.” Kenna stopped her and turned to face her client, walking backward as they continued down the hallway. “Let’s use the press to our advantage. The officers will uncuff you before you leave the building. I don’t want you to make any comment, but let’s show Kansas City that you’re a free man.”
“For now,” Spencer called after them. “Don’t let that ankle bracelet pinch too tight, Elliott.”
When Brian Elliott began a retort, Kenna Parker pressed her finger against his lips to shush him until he smiled and nodded his acquiescence. Spencer didn’t move or look away until Brian Elliott and the others had turned the corner toward the bank of public elevators and disappeared from sight.
Easing out a tense breath as the threat left, Spencer quickly became aware of other sorts of tension humming through his body. Bailey had her left hand curled around his arm now. Her whole body was hugged up against his side, seeking shelter or maybe just something stronger than she was to hold her upright. Several more seconds passed before Spencer acknowledged that he wasn’t moving away from the warmth of her curves pressed against his arm. And that was his thumb stroking across the back of her knuckles, soothing the crushing grip of her hand.
It was happening again. This was getting personal. This was how it had started with Ellen, and he couldn’t go through that again. Move away, Montgomery. Cop. Witness. Keep her safe. Don’t let any feelings get involved with this.
“Do your job,” he mouthed to himself.
“What?” Bailey whispered beside him.
Even worse than feeling the damn emotions was someone else knowing they were there, providing a weapon they could use against him.
So he emptied his lungs on a forceful breath of air and pulled his body away from Bailey’s to face her. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her nod wasn’t all that convincing. She squeezed her eyes shut for second and shook her head, as if clearing some graphic image from her mind. But when they opened again, that azure gaze tilted up and locked on to his. “I smelled that vile cologne he had on. I’m sure it’s something expensive, but...” The strength of her gaze faltered. “He had it on that night, too. I know he’s the man who raped me.”
“I have no doubt,” Spencer agreed. “That’s exactly the kind of detail that will make the D.A.’s case for us.” When the taut line of her mouth softened into a smile, he ignored that little kick of awareness that made him smile in return.
“Thank you for saying that. And thank you for being here when...” She visibly shuddered. “He was close enough he could have touched me.”
“Brian Elliott will never touch you again.” When he heard how vehemently he’d spoken those words, as if he’d just made some kind of promise to Bailey Austin, Spencer released her hand and broke contact entirely. It wasn’t his job to care about the awful turmoil she must go through each time she had to revisit the violence that had been done to her. Maybe she was okay with being touched, or maybe she’d been too scared to realize how hard she’d been holding on to him. Either way was a head game he wasn’t comfortable playing. She needed a sensitive kind of guy or her therapist to walk her through the emotional minefield of taking down the Rose Red Rapist. And he wasn’t that guy.
He needed some distance. This situation was getting inside his head—the woman was getting under his skin. Setting up a safe house and guarding a witness weren’t part of his job description anymore. He was not this woman’s protector. He was seeing his investigation through to the very end, like any good detective would. He was doing a favor for Chief Taylor.
He was not putting himself in a position to lose anyone else who mattered to him.
Ignoring the questioning look in Bailey’s eyes, Spencer inclined his head toward the bullpen—the maze of desks and cubicles in the main room where he and dozens of other detectives worked. “Come on. Let me get my coat and then I’ll walk you to your car.” He moved out without a backward glance, lengthening his stride to put some impersonal space between them. “I’ll give you my card and my partner’s, and, of course, you can call the precinct if you need anything else.”
Her heels clicked on the marble tiles behind him as she hurried to catch up.
All of Bailey’s brave talk about testifying had flown out the window when she’d come face to face with Brian Elliott...right along with Spencer’s resolve not to let things get personal with her.
He wouldn’t let either one happen again.
Chapter Three
Starch.
That was the subtle, clean scent filling the elevator. Bailey clutched the strap of her purse to her stomach, almost smiling beside the jut of Spencer Montgomery’s shoulder as he watched the third-level light come on above the doors of the parking garage elevator.
After traveling down through the bowels of the Fourth Precinct building and out a side entrance, they’d hurried through the bracing air and blowing snow to enter the parking garage a block away from the bright lights and electronic noise of the impromptu press conference on the front steps of the tall granite building across the street. The multistory parking garage might be filled with cars, but with the cold wind blowing through the open levels, chasing the patrons indoors, there’d been no one around when Spencer had bustled her onto the elevator and punched the button. This silent ride up the elevator gave Bailey a calming reprieve from the emotional battles she’d fought all morning with her family, Brian Elliott and within herself.
Not that she’d call her time spent with Spencer Montgomery relaxing, exactly.
Since his promise to walk her to her car, everything had been a rush. Papers neatly stacked on his desk. Chair pushed in. A quick introduction to his partner,