The Man For the Job by Marie-Nicole Ryan

Author:Marie-Nicole Ryan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, romantic suspense, detective, romance contemporary, body guard, marienicole ryan
Publisher: Marie-Nicole Ryan

Chapter Twenty-five

Making small talk wasn’t high on Mike’s list of favorite things, but like a dutiful son, he circulated among his parents’ guests. In reality, he was more interested in catching up on the latest Yankee scores with Rocky.

Finally, he made his way over to the corner where the bulky security guard stood quietly, observing the guests with unveiled interest. “How’d the Yankees do?”

Rocky gave a wide grin. “Beat the socks off the Sox—six to one—almost a shutout. Won me a nice piece of change, too.”

“Good deal.”

Rocky nudged Mike in the ribs. “Check her out.”

Mike glanced around the room. “Where?”

“Through there—in the dining room. The housekeeper, Millie.”

Mike took in the view. Slender, as tall as Gwyneth, but with darker hair. Attractive girl, she looked harried as she adjusted place cards. Who wouldn’t in the midst a full-blown dinner party thrown to his mother’s exacting standards?

“She’s new?” But there was something familiar about her.

“Yeah, very newly hired. But take it from me, she’s a waste of time.”

Mike sniggered. “Meaning she shot you down.”

“Meaning she doesn’t know a good man when she sees one.”

“She’s not bad,” Mike agreed with a grin, “but I’m prejudiced toward a certain leggy blonde.”

“Can’t say I blame you.”

“I left her on the terrace—thinking.”

“Thinking?” Rocky shook his head. “That doesn’t sound good.”

His response was cut off by the sound of his mother’s cultured, British voice. “All right, everyone, shall we go in to dinner?”

Glancing around, he didn’t see Gwyn. “She must still be outside,” he told Rocky. “I told her ten minutes.” He shook his head in mock sadness. “Guess I’ll have to teach her to tell time.”

Rocky snorted, “Yeah, right. She’s just the lady to clean your clock, too.”

Weaving his way through the guests, Mike headed for the terrace, then stopped short as a woman’s scream pierced the air.

Gwyn.

His heart hammering and a breath hanging in his throat, he sprinted for the French doors. With all the security measures his father had in place, she was supposed to be safe here. He should’ve never left her alone.

The terrace. Empty. “Dammit, Gwyn! Where are you?”

“The maze,” came her hoarse cry. “Hurry.”

Thank God, she was alive. He sprinted the short distance to the maze. There at the entrance he found her kneeling beside a body. The front of her dress was covered in blood. His police-detective training kicked into gear. “Get back from him. Did you touch anything?”

“I-I don’t think so.” Her body shook like she had the flu.

He knelt beside the body and felt for a pulse—not that he expected to find one. And he didn’t.

He stood and pulled her to her feet. She collapsed in his arms, but he held her tightly against his chest. In spite of the warm, summer night, she shivered.

She looked up at him. “Mike, it’s Richard. He’s dead.”

“But Rocky and I put him in his car.”

The soft whir of his father’s wheelchair approached on Mike’s left. “What’s going on?” his old man demanded. “Who is it?”

“It’s Klein, Gwyn’s ex-fiancé. Bastard’s dead.”

More guests crowded around the bloody tableau.

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