Her Man in Manhattan

THIRTEEN



He’d been right about one thing.

Miranda was one hell of an actress.

No one on the outside saw how much effort she put into hiding her emotions. Burying them didn’t come naturally to her the way it used to for him. But when it came to the way she looked at him—as if he were some kind of tasty treat she wanted to savour—she needed to knock it off. Add their undeniable sexual chemistry to the flash of vulnerability he saw in her eyes before she faced the public and the draw he felt to her was so overpowering Tyler had to remind himself they weren’t alone.

He’d have to be careful when they were. The closer she dragged him to the edge, the more likely he was to lose what was left of his footing.

The next time she glanced his way he pointed at the curtain to let her know he would be out front. She nodded in reply before arching a brow at her mother when the woman reached out to brush her hair away from the badge she’d pinned to her chest.

‘Seriously?’

‘I’m not permitted to make motherly gestures now?’

‘Not if it takes us back to the days when you used to dress me like a Jackie Kennedy doll.’

Content she had something to distract her from any fear she felt of unseen dangers in the auditorium, Tyler moved into position. Standing where he had one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees’ coverage from the front of the stage, he checked everyone else on the combined detail was where they were supposed to be before running his gaze over the crowd.

‘...and with your help we can finish what we started...’

As the mayor’s speech whipped the crowd into a frenzy the cheers became louder, making it difficult for Tyler to hear if anything came through in his earpiece. The ever-present tension in his body coiled tighter as he raised his hand and used his forefinger to push it tighter into place.

‘We’ve come too far to give up now!’ the mayor shouted into the microphone. ‘Are you with me?’

The crowd yelled, ‘Yes!’

‘Are you with me?’

‘Yes!’

There were too many banners and placards waving wildly in the air to allow him to check every face. It made Tyler antsy, the fingers of his gun hand flexing at his side.

‘Then let’s do it!’

‘Kravitz! Kravitz! Kravitz! Kravitz!’

In the midst of the chanting there was what sounded like popping gunfire. Immediately pushing back his jacket to place a thumb on his service weapon, Tyler snapped his gaze in the direction he thought it came from. There wasn’t any screaming; the crowd wasn’t panicking—somewhere in his mind he knew they were both indications nothing had happened. But while his body created so much adrenaline it made his heart struggle to pump it through his veins his brain ignored the message.

In the end it took the sight of a woman scolding her son as she confiscated a bunch of balloons for him to avoid calling in the threat and drawing his weapon.

Lowering his arm, he ground his teeth together, self-recrimination searing his throat when he glanced at the stage. Miranda was standing in plain sight, smiling and waving with her parents. As her gaze sought him out the need to go to her and haul her into his arms was crippling.

He didn’t want her up there. He wanted her somewhere he knew she was safe. The thing that stopped him from jumping onstage and carrying her away wasn’t his job or who her father was; it was the certainty that place of safety wasn’t with him.

By the time they were driving back to the mansion through a not-so-safe-after-dark neighbourhood he was strung out and close to breaking point.

‘You okay?’

‘Yes,’ he gritted. But it was a lie. If he didn’t find an outlet for some of his tension soon...

When a figure walking down the sidewalk caught his eye Tyler’s brain ran through a scrolling roll of faces and hit jackpot. Checking for traffic, he turned the wheel and swung the Escalade around.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

He didn’t reply as the figure turned a corner. Instead he followed it, drew to a halt and unbuckled his seat belt. ‘Lock the doors and stay inside.’

‘What are you—?’

‘Keys are in the ignition.’ He got out and slammed the door. As the man lit up by the headlights turned and looked over his shoulder he called out, ‘Hey, Jimmy, remember me?’

The second he rabbited Tyler gave chase. One wrong turn later the idiot was trapped in a dead-end alley.

‘Haven’t you learnt you can’t run from me?’ He slammed him face-first into a wall before patting him down. ‘Out doing a little business—what do we have here?’ He took a step back and looked down at the clear plastic pouch in his hand. ‘Looks like I have you on possession...’

‘That’s not mine. It belongs to a friend.’

‘Do I look like I just got hit by the stupid stick?’

When the idiot made a predictable attempt to escape it was all the incentive Tyler needed to cut his dark side loose. Reaching for a wrist, he twisted the arm, spun him around and slammed him back into the wall. When he leaned closer his voice was purposefully menacing.

‘You know what I want.’

‘I heard you was off the case.’

‘You heard wrong.’

‘You can’t rough me up. I’ll file a complaint.’

‘Go ahead,’ Tyler told him as he twisted the arm hard enough to dislocate a shoulder and used his other hand on the guy’s head to press his cheek to the wall. ‘In the meantime here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take a message to Demietrov for me. I’ll keep the sentences nice and short so you can remember them. You tell him I’m coming for him. He won’t know where. He won’t know when. Tell him to keep looking over his shoulder.’

‘You’re Dirty Harry now?’

‘No.’ His mouth curled into a threatening smile. ‘I’m his worst nightmare. You don’t deliver the message I’ll be yours, too. I’ll spread the word you’re my new best friend.’ He felt his hand press harder against the man’s skull and ignored the cry of pain while he fought the need to crush bone. ‘No witnesses here. It’ll be your word against mine and I think we both know you’re the weakest link.’

‘She’s a witness,’ Jimmy croaked.