Page 38 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

Of course he knew. Was there anything he didn’t know? Again, Fred thought uncomfortably of the way he’d kissed Rachel.

“But you do need to get the news media off your back. Two weeks out of the spotlight would help. And I can pull some strings at Channel Six. The news director owes me some favors. I can get Ella Joy to drop the Bachelor Hero stories.”

Fred stared. Could this man really do all that? Eyeing his emphatic, bony profile, Fred didn’t really doubt it. “I would definitely appreciate some peace and quiet on that front.”

“I can’t hypnotize the female population of San Gabriel, sadly,” added Kessler with a hint of dry humor. “But I can buy up all the fan club buttons.” He turned his head sideways, narrowing his penetrating gaze at Fred. “You aren’t yet convinced, are you?”

Fred hesitated. “The thing is, I just passed all the training for USAR—Urban Search and Rescue. The crew needs me. There’s only six of us in the whole city. I don’t feel right walking away, even if it’s just for two weeks. I worked my ass off for that gig. And I love it. I finally have a chance to prove myself, and—”

“How much did Rachel tell you?” Kessler interrupted again.

“Um …” Fred fumbled to remember. “Just who she was, and then I remembered that she was kidnapped, and—”

“Did she tell you that she escaped the bastard? On her own, except for the help of a stray dog? Did she tell you that he probably would have killed her if she hadn’t? Did she tell you that the kidnapper was never identified, let alone arrested?”

The questions were coming fast as bullets. Fred froze, unable to move, even to shake his head yes or no.

“Here’s something I’m certain she didn’t tell you, because she doesn’t know. I’ve never told her. Every few years, the kidnapper sends me a message. Know what that message is? Same thing he told her every time he put her back in that cage.” The rage vibrating through the man’s body seemed to shake the car. “To be continued. That’s what he says, taunting me like the sadistic demon he is. To be continued. So.” The car jerked to a stop next to Fred’s truck. Kessler drilled Fred with eyes of midnight steel. “I’m going to ask you again, since I know what really drives you. I know you can’t resist someone who needs help. Are you in?”

Chapter 11

“No!” Rachel, doing a fair imitation of a violet-eyed Tasmanian devil, glared at her father, then Fred, then at Marsden for good measure. “I refuse.”

“There you go,” Fred told Kessler. “I told you she wouldn’t go for it.”

“She’ll go for it,” Kessler said grimly.

“Now you’re talking about me right in front of me. That’s even worse than trying to hire a bodyguard behind my back.”

“Two weeks, honey. That’s all it’s going to be. Until my testimony’s done.”

“It’s going to be zero weeks.” Rachel looked truly furious, and Fred couldn’t blame her. The way Kessler treated her must make her feel like a child. “One bodyguard is more than enough, right, Marsden? You’re being paranoid.”

“There are worse things than being paranoid.” Kessler scraped out the words.

Rachel flinched, then turned desperately to her security guard. “Tell him, Marsden. We’re fine the way we are.”

“Truth is, I recommended him.” Marsden jerked his head toward Fred. “We could use him.”

Fred glanced at the older man in surprise. Not more than half an hour ago, he’d had the guy in a headlock. Now he was advocating for him?

“Been feeling some aches and pains lately,” Marsden added, though it clearly cost him to admit it. “Wouldn’t want you to pay for that.”

Rachel looked stricken by that news. She bit her lip then whirled around, turning her back on them all. She had changed into work clothes, a light gray sweater and khaki pants. A clip held her hair in a knot, so Fred could make out the delicate tendons of her neck. Greta trotted to her side and rubbed her head against her leg.

“But why him?” she tossed over her shoulder. “He’s a fireman, not a bodyguard.”

“I’m confident he’s got the right skills,” said Kessler. “And you seem more comfortable with him than—”

Before he could continue, and before Rachel could erupt into a full-scale rejection of him, Fred interrupted. “Can I have a second to talk this over with Rachel?” And before she could get mad that he was excluding her, added quickly, “Is that okay with you, Rachel?”

Kessler gave him a long, intense scrutiny, then nodded once. “You have ten minutes. Marsden, come with me.”

The two men left, the door quietly sliding shut behind them. Fred wondered if they were going to watch the conversation on the hidden cameras. “Do you know how to disable the video system?” He asked Rachel.

Wordlessly, she walked to an Impressionist painting on the wall—he wondered if it was the real thing—flipped it up to reveal a console, and pushed a few buttons. She didn’t meet his eyes, and a slight flush lingered on her cheeks. It occurred to him that she probably felt embarrassed.

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