Undercover with the Nanny Page 3

  Silence. No gunfire or flying knives. No ninjas jumping out of the dark or scantily clad women beckoning him in. Allowing a humorless smile to cross his face, he duck-walked into the room, which was dimly lit by a luminous digital clock on the wall.

  Satisfied that he was alone, he stood slowly and shined his flashlight around the space. It was a homemade darkroom. In this digital age? Clotheslines with photos hanging on them lined the perimeter. The smell should have alerted him, but he’d been so focused on not having dangerous company that he’d shoved all other sensory clues to the side. Moving to the photos, he glanced over them, noted the skill of the photographer, and shrugged. He wasn’t here for the absentee owner.

  He left the room the way he found it, shutting the door soundlessly before heading across the hall to an open doorway. Bingo. It was too well-ordered to be anyone else’s room but Kate’s. Just to be sure, he peeked into the master and was met with total disarray. He headed back into Munroe’s bedroom.

  A double bed covered in a pink floral bedspread dominated the space. It was flanked by mismatched end tables. Across from it was a thirty-two-inch flat screen on a six-drawer dresser. The bedroom curtains hung open, revealing the rumbling ocean beyond the closed window. The waves kept him awake at night, since he was from land-locked El Paso, though he imagined the sound was soothing to most.

  Before settling in to search through her things, he placed a listening bug inside the vase of fake flowers on the nightstand. Dust particles sprinkled to the table, and he swiped them aside. So, dusting was Kate’s kryptonite. He smiled.

  There would be no cameras in here or in the bathroom. Some guys would have no compunction in doing that, believing it helped pass surveillance time more agreeably, but he wasn’t one of those men.

  He bugged the bathroom, then placed a tiny camera facing the kitchen and another into the living space before returning to Kate’s room. And then he set about systematically rifling through all her belongings.

  The top dresser drawers were full of lingerie and soft sweaters he couldn’t help but run a finger over. He stopped short of sliding see-through thongs and lacy panties through his hands, but imagining them on the body he’d glimpsed earlier had him adjusting his shorts. Damn, but the woman liked her sexy stuff. He was going to have a helluva time not seeing her in almost nothing from now on.

  He found his pot of gold in the lower dresser drawers. Papers, papers, papers. Tax papers, sales receipts, and legal papers. He spent time over everything. The court case against the drunk driver who killed her parents filled a folder, including death certificates. And a life insurance policy that had been allowed to lapse a few years ago. He went through each sheet, making sure she hadn’t hidden something else, but he found nothing.

  At the bottom of the drawer was a sheaf of photos paper-clipped together. Sitting back on his heels, Sawyer sifted through them. Against his wishes, his heart began to ache at the sweet scenes that were captured. There was a mom sitting on a bench with her daughter, hugging her close. Here was another snapshot of Kate on a swing set.

  Over and over he looked at her, ranging from toddler to preteen, always smiling or laughing. A happy child who had no idea that her parents’ deaths would rip apart her adult life. He studied her in each photo, a tall, thin child with an overabundance of brown hair and huge eyes. Eyes I could get lost in.

  It was obvious they’d been close, hard to imagine since he’d never had that same sort of relationship with his parents. He could feel Kate’s pain, and could understand her desire to clear her beloved parents’ debts. Was that desire so strong it made her desperate enough that she threw in her lot with Cabrera and Ortiz so she could recover her losses? That’s what he hoped to find out.

  The rattle of the front doorknob yanked Sawyer from his musings and slammed him into the present. He shoved his findings back where he found them, easing the drawer closed. How could she be back? His mind careened, even as he accepted that he’d overspent his time and was now trapped in Kate’s home, about to be discovered.

  Chapter Three

  He had to get out of here before Kate caught him pawing through her panties. Sawyer glanced at the window, but it didn’t offer any solutions. Hadn’t there been a slider in the roommate’s bedroom? On swift but silent feet, he crossed to the door and peeked around the jamb. His heart somersaulted and his pulse revved. Kate was heading through the living room toward the kitchen.

  He slipped into the master bedroom in one long stride and wasted no time pushing the vertical blinds aside, opening the door with barely a whisper of sound. The slider balked at being latched behind him, and he didn’t have time to fiddle with it. Giving up, he crouched below the patio retaining wall and booked it through the sand to the far side of his apartment, hopping over his partition and letting himself back into his place. Only when he was safe indoors did he lean his hands on his dinette table and suck in deep breaths of air.

  Damn, that had been close. That’d teach him to ogle his suspect. He needed to keep his mind on the job, a problem he’d never had. Get lost in her eyes, indeed. He almost got his ass in a sling for imagining Kate’s past life.

  Proceeding into his kitchen, Sawyer turned on the meager light above the sink and reached into his fridge for a soda. He sank into the black leather couch in the living room, after docking his phone and tapping his playlist on low. Sam Hunt’s “Body Like a Back Road” came on. He stared at the ceiling, took a swig, and tried to ignore the images of Kate conjured by the song.

  Her parents’ deaths and subsequent mountain of bills had forced her fledgling business out of existence. Was Kate desperate enough for cash to become an employee within Mexico’s deadliest drug cartel? Had she even now just returned from a drug run? If he searched her, running his hands over those generous breasts and slowing along those tantalizing hips, down those long, long legs, would he find cash?

  He’d find himself in a peck of trouble, that’s what he’d find. He shifted on the couch cushion. He was way too aware of her as a woman, instead of as a possible suspect. That was unprofessional and dangerous, two traits he’d never associated with himself before. Discovering whether a suspect was innocent or guilty had never posed a threat to his professionalism. Until now.

  And how had he become so intent on digging through her past that he almost got caught in her present? By her? He never lost focus. That’s why he was still alive today, able to chase the druggies. He was always business first. Yet her closed off expression and the story told by the photographs begged him to delve deeper into her life.

  He was being sucked into her family history, and he needed to resist. Fixing an emotionally scarred suspect was not part of his job description.

  After another swallow, Sawyer turned his attention to Ortiz. That slimy bastard always managed to stay one step ahead of him. They didn’t even know what he looked like, although their south of the border counterparts were working on that. They’d been so close in El Paso, until he ghosted them once more. Finding out he had a pilot named Fernando Cabrera hadn’t been that momentous, but following the breadcrumbs out here had been just shy of brilliant. And now they had evidence that could lead them right to Ortiz. Very shapely evidence that came with a smart mouth and huge eyes.

  Best not taunt himself again over her looks. With the bugs in place, he’d know soon enough whether his walking wet dream was guilty or not. Sawyer rose. He might as well check and see if those bugs were working.

  A sibilant whisper from the direction of his patio slider had him dropping into a crouch. He placed his can on the coffee table and reached for his gun.

  “Mr. Hayes. Are you in there? I hear music, so you must be up.”

  He expelled a whoosh of air through his nose. Kate. Shit. Sawyer tucked his Beretta into the back waistband of his shorts and pulled his T-shirt over it. He had no idea why she was outside his door, but he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t to get horizontal.

  He squared his shoulders and moved toward her voice, stopping
just shy of his open slider. He slipped into his teasing, Texas twang. “Mr. Hayes was my dad, so no, he’s not here. You’ll have to make do with me.” He flipped on the patio light and stepped outside.

  Sure enough, Kate was leaning on the wrought iron rail that separated their beachfront patios. She straightened as soon as he appeared, and took a pace back. Her gaze swept over him, and he smiled wider.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company in the middle of the night?”

  “Not for what you’re hoping.”

  Her waspish reply startled a laugh from him. Damn. Whether he wanted to or not, he liked her prickly temperament. It didn’t help matters either that, although her words were like a splash of ice water to the face, the fact that she wouldn’t meet his gaze told him she was more aware of him as a man than she wanted to be. A good investigator would capitalize on that attraction, and he was better than good.

  “You wound me.”

  She was ready for him. “You’ll recover, Romeo. I wanted to know if you saw or heard anyone in my place.”

  Shit. Sawyer lost his smile. He thought he’d escaped the apartment with her none the wiser. How did she know? Her knowledge spoke to her guilt. Only those with something to hide were hyperaware of their surroundings. He didn’t have to fake his concern, just the reason for it.

  “No, I didn’t. Did you see someone?”

  “No. It was more of an impression. You’ll probably think I’m silly, but it was a disturbance in the air.”

  “I don’t think that’s silly at all. You stay here and I’ll go check it out.”

  “Like hell. If someone’s in there I want a crack at him.”

  Sawyer paused and studied her in the moonlight. She was sincere. He had no doubt that she’d make good on her promise to take a swing at the intruder, even if it was him. Especially if it was him. He shook his head once, and watched her lips thin into a straight line. She thought he was telling her no.

  “Fine. But stay behind me, okay?”

  At her nod, he vaulted over the low fence separating them, landing lightly on his feet beside her. He searched her face for fear, for any response to his nearness, and noticed instead how the damp air curled tendrils of her hair around her head. He itched to touch it.

  Irritated at how easily his attention diverted when she was around, he turned away before she hypnotized him, and slipped into the apartment he’d vacated minutes earlier. He sensed rather than felt her presence behind him. He tossed aside the implication of that awareness.

  She’d turned on the living room lamp, as well as the light over the kitchen sink, but that was as far as she’d gone. He had to act cautious, even though he knew for a fact they were the only two occupants.

  He crept down the hall on silent feet, checking out each room until he’d vetted the entire apartment. He’d left the roommate’s slider door open a fraction when he’d made his getaway. He’d blame that for the air disturbance she’d felt. And all the while Kate accompanied him on his search, her warmth at his back a distraction he didn’t want or need.

  They returned to the dining room and faced each other. Her gaze collided with his and then bounced away. She was nervous around him. The only question was, was it because she was attracted to him, or because she was a guilty person who didn’t want to get too close to a stranger? Too soon to tell.

  “So, that open door is probably the cause of the draft you felt,” he supplied, pasting an earnest expression on his face. She nodded, frowning.

  “Yes, though I’m sure I locked everything after Stacey left.”

  Oh, you had. “Yeah, well sliding doors are notorious for not locking all the way.” Deciding to amp up the flirtation, he smiled widely and drawled, “Will you be able to sleep okay now? Or would you feel better with some male company?” He let his suggestion trail off, sink in, and was rewarded when her eyes widened and she pushed him toward the patio door with one hand.

  “Nice try. Thanks for the backup, but I can handle it from here. I just needed extra reassurance.”

  He allowed her to shove him into the doorway, grinning at her efforts to expel him from her presence now that she’d used him. He took hold of the doorjamb when she would have pushed him all the way out.

  “Well, if you change your mind, just give me a holler. I’m a real light sleeper.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks again, Hayes. I’m not much into being the damsel in distress, but I’ll rest easier now. Alone.”

  He let a beat or two pass before dropping his gaze to her hand on his chest, where her fingers had curled into the material of his T-shirt. She let go, but he enfolded her hand in one of his and brought it to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

  Her fingers jerked in his grasp, and her gaze flew to his. He held it and widened his smile before releasing his grip. She clutched her hand to her chest, and he stepped onto the patio.

  “Good night, Kate. Sweet dreams.” Without giving her another look, he leaped over the wrought iron fencing and returned to his place, snatching up his unfinished soda and taking a long pull in the semi-darkness.

  Looking up at the ceiling, he swore long and hard. What the hell had he been thinking, kissing her hand? Or, noticing the softness of her skin, the delicate bone structure of her long fingers? He’d never done something like that before. Never. And now he was, with a drug-dealing suspect? He needed his head examined.

  The slam of her sliding door woke him from his self-castigation. He may not have planned that romantic hero move, but he’d seen the way her lips parted when he touched his mouth to the back of her hand. He’d heard the breath hitch in her throat. Perhaps his unorthodox behavior had accomplished what he’d set out to do: attract her. Maybe she wasn’t slamming the door on him, but on her own feelings. He didn’t like the way his pulse sped up at the thought.

  He grabbed up his phone from its dock, striding to the apartment’s second bedroom. He may have achieved his goal of making her aware of him as a man, but he’d also made himself notice her as a woman, and that he couldn’t afford. She was a suspect, dammit.

  He went to the walk-in closet and flung the door open hard enough it bounced off the wall. Flipping the light on, he stared at all the surveillance monitors blinking at him from within the cramped space. He dropped into the rolling desk chair and glared at the scenes of Kate Munroe’s apartment plastered on every screen.

  She wasn’t visible, thank God. That meant she was either in the bedroom or bathroom. Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number, and a second later Tim answered.

  “Yo, boss. What’s up?”

  Sawyer let out the breath he’d been holding in an angry rush.

  “I’ve made headway with Munroe. It’s time to roll out Act II.” Act II was his nickname for wrangling his way into the Cabrera house to place his surveillance bugs. After a brief discussion on how they’d accomplish this, he ended the call while keeping an eye on the video feed. Kate was not going to disrupt his plans for bringing down Ortiz. He’d worked too hard to let some pretty blue eyes and smooth skin derail him from his objective. He was going to find out once and for all if she was guilty or innocent. The sooner the better.

  Chapter Four

  Kate pulled into the playing field’s parking lot a few days later, her stomach in knots.

  It should be his father asking for extra help for Bobby, not his nanny. How much time did Cabrera have to spend away from his child before it was too late and Bobby was grown? It wasn’t good for the motherless boy to have to rely on a nanny for help and affection, even if Kate genuinely liked him, which she did. A child needed his family ties.

  Mr. Cabrera was forever finding other people to help raise his son. Bobby was shuttled from adult to adult for most of his daily life. Kate was his only constant playmate, though she sometimes set up playdates with his classmates if she, or, more rarely, his father, was available to supervise. He didn’t merit the sweet, vibrant child. Bobby deserved better. With anger chasing away her initia
l anxiety, Kate whipped her Sentra into a parking stall and jerked to a stop.

  After getting out and slamming the car door shut, she shaded her eyes and looked for the proper playing field. Naturally, Bobby’s team, the Padres, was all the way on the other side of the sports park. Kate cut across the grass to get there, glancing at the other playing fields while rehearsing what she would say to Bobby’s coach. Anger at her boss for putting her in this position bubbled inside her.

  Eventually, she reached the first base sidelines, where all the moms sat in beach chairs, talking while half watching the drills in the outfield. At the moment, the kids were tossing balls back and forth to each other. It looked like a comedy of errors with most of the players missing their catches, allowing the balls to bounce and roll all over the grass.

  “You’re new.”

  Kate turned toward the voice. It belonged to a plump, thirty-something woman with blond hair, large sunglasses, and a welcoming smile. She sat in a canvas beach chair, her phone in one hand and a fast-food drink in the other. Kate smiled in return.

  “Yes. I’m Kate Munroe, Bobby Cabrera’s nanny.”

  A chorus of “Hi, Kate,” erupted from the gathering of women, and she nodded, sinking to the grass beside the woman who’d spoken, and crisscrossing her legs.

  “I’m Mary, James’s mom, as well as Team Mom. Are you on the snack roster?”

  And so it began. Kate discovered that Bobby’s turn to bring snacks was in two weeks, near the end of the season. She agreed to provide sports drinks and sliced fruit on that day, while taking a mental note to make sure Mr. Cabrera was aware of his obligation once he returned from his current business trip.

  The moms were a chatty group, and Kate learned more about schoolwork, practices, and playing time than she would ever need to know. Her irritation at having this duty foisted on her began to subside. At least the time was passing agreeably.