Key Witness by Christy Barritt Page B

steadfastly to hers.
    “Good girl.”
    Good girl? Had he said “good girl”? She almost wanted to giggle with giddiness. No, he didn’t feel pity or look down on her. She tilted her head, admiring his features for the twentieth time that day. There was something about Denton that made her want to soak him in for the rest of her life. “How do you do it?”
    He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Do what?”
    “Get me to talk like that? I value privacy, but you probably know more about me now than anyone else my father has hired.”
    “I’m honored.” His voice sounded velvety smooth and sincere—just the way that made Elle swoon.
    She stood and waved a finger at him, trying to resist a smile as she paced in front of the fire and shook her head. “You’re good.”
    He raised himself to his feet and stepped toward her. Elle couldn’t help but notice how he towered over her five-foot-six-inch frame. “Why do you say it like it’s bad?”
    “I’ve seen your type.” She shook her head and let out a shaky laugh, hating the way her pulse raced when he stepped closer. Mark Denton was dangerous—to her heart, at least. “I’ve got to go to bed.”
    “So is my type good or bad?”
    Elle nodded. “Good night, Denton.”
    A grin stretched across his face. “Good night, Elle.”
    * * *
    As Denton watched Elle walk away, his grin slipped. The woman certainly fascinated him. And surprised him. And made him want to learn more about her. All things he needed to squash. He was hired to protect her, not get involved with her. Besides, he wasn’t interested in a relationship. What he’d found with Wendi was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. No one ever could take her place.
    He flipped off the lights and paced into the kitchen. In the darkness, he stood by the window and let his gaze roam the landscape. He couldn’t see much in the nighttime, only a few deck chairs and the outline of some trees.
    He paused. Something glinted in the distance. What was that? The glare had come from the tree line. Had he been seeing things? He knew he hadn’t. He trusted his instincts.
    He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed his man outside. He’d left the agent on patrol around the perimeter of the house. Denton felt better having eyes inside and outside the house. Agent Banks answered on the first ring.
    “It’s Denton. I want you to check something in the woods south of the house. Something glinted out there. I just don’t know what it was. Maybe binoculars.”
    “I’m on it.”
    “Check in with me. And treat this as if it’s the killer out there. We’re dealing with some real sickos.”
    “Got it.”
    Denton pressed in the security code and slipped out the back door, his gun drawn and his phone on vibrate. He hurried to the perimeter and scaled the fence. Once in the cover of the woods, he skulked behind trees, trying not to be seen. On the opposite side of the property, he spotted Agent Banks mimicking his movements, a few steps ahead of him.
    Just a couple more feet and he’d be there. As he got closer to the area where he’d seen something, he slowed, making sure each of his steps was careful, quiet. He paused behind a tree and peered around it. He saw nothing. Was one of the madmen hiding just out of sight? Were they waiting for just the right moment to send a bullet through the air?
    Agent Banks waved him over. He lowered his weapon—but only slightly—as he approached. “What’s going on?”
    “No one’s here, but they were. Look at this.”
    Denton squatted on the ground and saw the area where some underbrush had been stomped. Something white sticking out from under some vines caught his eye. Carefully, he pulled it out.
    His jaw locked in place as the paper came into view. It was a picture of Elle with an X over her face.
    Just what was someone planning?

EIGHT
    E lle had spent most of the day fielding calls from the media and volunteers about everything that had happened over the past three