Protector by Catherine Mann Read Free Book Online

henchman.
    Chuck zeroed in on the brown paper bag as Hebert slid his hand inside and withdrew, slowly, deliberately, a container of vanilla bean yogurt and a Chinotto— a local fruity cola.
    Touché
. Chuck yielded the point to Mr. Benoit, toasting him with a lift of his coffee mug.
    Benoit twisted his bottle open, the hissing of the vacuum seal resounding in the late-night silence. “I’d be mighty upset if anyone hurt that little girl.”
    “I don’t doubt it for a minute.” Chuck took a much-needed sip of his coffee, brought to him minutes ago by one of the countless people on staff here who moved about with a silence the CIA would do well to study.
    Setting the mug beside the one he’d gotten for Jolynn, he leaned back, crossing his feet at the ankles, watching, assessing, cataloging details to use later if the opportunity came for a peek inside the old mobster’s mind.
    The door from Taylor’s suite swung wide, banging hard against the wall. Chuck shot to his feet a second ahead of Benoit. Reflexively, Chuck grabbed for the Beretta tucked in his waistband under his shirt, ditching his mug on the end table with a slosh. The old guy’s yogurt and drink clattered to the floor.
    Jolynn blasted into the waiting area. Benoit’s shoulders slumped and he knelt to clean up his snack splattered on the floor. He reached for his napkins, only to stiffen again the minute Jolynn smacked him on the back of the head.
    “You lied to me.” Jolynn circled, whacking her hands against Benoit’s barrel chest. “I can’t believe I was such an idiot. I thought you were the one person I could trust, and you lied.”
    Standing, Benoit scowled. “Now, watch your mouth, little girl.”
    Only moments prior, the muscular mobster had a seasoned dark ops aviator on the edge of his seat. Now Hebert held his hands in front of him, fielding blows like a boxer until he managed to grasp Jolynn’s wrists.
    No doubt, she had spunk.
    And he wasn’t an aviator anymore.
    Without warning, the energy radiating from her evaporated. Jolynn sagged like a limp rag doll hanging from the clutches of a dejected child. “Bear, why did you tell me he asked for me?”
    Her voice sounded small in contrast to the dynamic woman who’d blasted through that door. Viewing theunguarded moment between the two, he felt more voyeuristic than during any surveillance operation in his aircraft.
    The older man avoided her eyes. “Because he did ask.”
    “Try again.” Her accusing gaze narrowed.
    Benoit slid an arm around her shoulders. “I know he wants you here. He just doesn’t know how to say it.”
    So Taylor hadn’t asked for his daughter. What had her father said in there to elicit such a strong reaction? Worth checking out once he paid Berg a visit in the computer hub and reviewed the tapes picked up with the chip in Jolynn’s bag.
    She slid her wrists free and hitched her purse higher onto her shoulder. “Come on, Tomas. Let’s blow this pop stand.”
    With a toss of her auburn hair, she strode down the corridor.
    Chuck scooped up his backpack, feeling it rest just over his gun. He nodded once to Benoit and turned away.
    “Tomas.”
    Chuck glanced back at Taylor’s bodyguard.
    “You watch out for her, boy.”
    Not what he’d expected from the old guy, but he nodded again, then wondered when the two of them had gone from being adversaries to allies.
    Chuck jogged down the corridor, too late to catch the elevator. He took the stairs double time. In the lobby, he spotted her bright yellow shirt outside the glass doors and pinned his eyes on her. He needed to hang tough. Gather information. See her safely to the ship, then get back to work.
    Her long legs raced across the parking lot until she stopped by the Maserati. She crossed her arms on top of the
Fortuna
’s car, resting her forehead in the crook of her elbow. A sigh shuddered through her.
    That simple sigh kicked him in the gut harder than any implied threat from Hebert Benoit.
    Steam