Gage (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood #16)

Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

G age juggled the tray containing the two disposable cups and the bag of beignets in one hand as he exited the hotel’s stairwell. He wasn’t sure why he’d decided to bring the snack along on his visit to Suzanna Dawkins, except Ms. Patti’s face had popped into his head as he’d been getting ready to leave Café Du Monde. Bringing the sweet treat along as a kind of peace offering would be the sort of thing she’d do, even though he felt like an idiot.

He’d barely made it down the long corridor to Suzanna’s room when he heard a scream. Working on instinct alone, he grabbed the door handle, and found it locked. Tossing the tray onto the floor, he braced himself before striking a well-placed kick to the door, and watched it dent inward but not open. A second kick did the job, as the handle fell to the floor and the door flung inward.

Felicia lay on the floor, a masked man standing a few feet away, a gun pointed at her. Diving for the gunman in a full-body tackle, he heard the retort of the shot, as they both hit the floor with a distinctive thud. Gage’s fist flew toward the man’s jaw, landing with a resounding crunch, and the body beneath him went still.

Leaping to his feet, he rushed to Suzanna’s side, where she struggled to sit upright. He immediately noted the smear of blood on her left upper arm. Dang, the bullet must have hit her when the gun went off. Noises from the hall confirmed several people standing outside, gawking into the room.

“Call 9-1-1,” he barked out, easing Suzanna over to sit on the edge of the bed, far away from the man sprawled on the floor.

“Already done,” drawled a man with a distinctive Southern accent. “Looks like you had a bit of a problem.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“I can see that. Want me to secure this fellow, while you deal with your lady friend?”

Gage studied the stranger for a moment, before nodding. He couldn’t help smiling when the stranger pulled a couple of zip ties from the pocket of his sweatshirt, and had the man secured within seconds. Why he was carrying zip ties Gage couldn’t even guess, but they came in handy at the moment, freeing him up to help Suzanna.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. Other than scaring me half to death, I’m all right.”

Gage looked at the blood staining her sleeve. It looked to be superficial, but he’d definitely have EMTs look at it, just to make sure. She was pale, her skin almost a translucent ivory, reminding him of the finest porcelain. A fine tremble wracked her body, and made him want to hit the masked idiot again.

Hotel security led two uniformed police officer through the door, before ushering the people in the hall back, closing the door in the faces of the lookie loos who’d crowded around, gawking and trying to get the latest on all the excitement and maybe grasp their fifteen minutes of fame if the press or paparazzi showed up. Which was the last thing this situation needed. Suzanna had enough to deal with, with the notoriety of her husband’s murder, she didn’t need to add to the titillation.

“I’m Officer Turner and this is my partner, Officer Stevens. Somebody want to tell me what happened here?” The nearest police officer scanned the scene, before turning his attention to Gage. Guess he’d be the one answering questions, trying to give answers he didn’t have yet.

“I came to see Ms. Dawkins. I arrived at her door when I heard a scream. Tried the handle. It was locked. I deemed the situation required excess force, so I kicked it in. He,” Gage pointed to the man on the floor, who was still out cold, “stood over Ms. Dawkins’ who was prone on the floor, holding a gun on her. I tackled him, and knocked him out. Now, can we get paramedics here? Ms. Dawkins was injured in the scuffle, and needs medical attention.”

“Gage, I’m fine,” she protested, then winced when she moved her arm.

“You’ve been shot, sugar. The police are going to insist that you be checked out, right?”

“That’s correct.” The first officer, a tall black man with a shaved head and bulging muscles smiled, and nodded to his partner. “Check on the paramedics, get ’em up here stat.” His smile at Suzanna was pleasant and kind, and for some reason it irked Gage.

“Anybody know who this might be?” The guy who’d provided the zip ties nudged the ski-mask-wearing perp on the floor.

Suzanna shook her head. “No idea. He’s had on the mask ever since he got here. I mean, I opened the door because I was leaving, and he was standing there. He forced his way inside, and started talking about a ransom and money. He has a heavy accent. English definitely isn’t his first language, though I didn’t recognize where he might be from.”

“He mentioned a ransom? Did he try to force you to leave the room with him?” The officer asked the question softly, encouraging Suzanna to continue talking.

“At the end, right before Gage—Mr. Newsome—kicked the door in. I refused to leave. I know if you leave and go to a second location, your chances of survival drop dramatically. He hit me and I screamed. I guess that’s when Gage heard me and busted in the door. It’s all kind of fuzzy after that.”

Right then the door to the room swung inward, allowing two paramedics in. Gage noted the second officer, the one who’d gone to get the paramedics, stood guard outside. Probably a good idea with the door being broken and not closing properly, and with the hangers’ on still milling about. This might turn into a logistical nightmare, but he was glad he’d listened to his instincts and come to see Suzanna instead of simply calling. He didn’t like to think what could have happened if he’d shown up five minutes later.

“Hey, Boudreau, what are you doing here?”

Boudreau? Gage looked around and realized the paramedic was talking to the stranger who’d been first on the scene, the one with the zip ties. What were the chances of a Louisiana Boudreau showing up when he needed one? Providence, fate, or simply plain dumb luck?

“Dad sent me over to check on Ms. Dawkins. Probably a good thing, as you can see.” He must have noted Gage’s stare, because he added, “Jean-Luc Boudreau. Gator’s my dad.”

“Nice to meet you.” He chuckled. “Guess that explains the zip ties.”

Jean-Luc shrugged, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, I’m a regular Boy Scout. Always prepared.”

“Since you’re already there, Jean-Luc, why don’t you pull off the ski mask and let’s take a look at our perp.” The Officer Turner gestured toward the man on the floor, who’d started squirming in the zip ties, struggling to get free.

“Come here, buddy, and let’s get a look at you.” Jean-Luc ripped the ski mask off, revealing a sandy-haired, ruddy-faced man with otherwise unremarkable features, other than a small scar running across his forehead, about two inches long, over his left eye. “Don’t recognize him, do you?”

Officer Turner shook his head. “Doesn’t look familiar to me. We’ll run his prints down at the station, but I’ve got the feeling he’s going to be in the system.”

Gage tried following along with the conversation, but couldn’t take his eyes of Suzanna while the paramedics worked on her. They’d cut away a portion of her shirt, exposing a long graze, probably a couple of inches, still slowly oozing blood. Thankfully, to his view it didn’t look like the bullet did more than simply nick her in the melee. He let out an inaudible sigh, thankful it wasn’t worse. The paramedics quickly assessed and bandaged her arm, and gave her the option of going to the emergency room, which she declined. With an admonishment to see her private physician to get checked out, the paramedics left.

“Is there anything else you can remember, Ms. Dawkins?” Officer Turner asked.

She started to shake her head, but stopped. “He made a phone call to somebody. I didn’t understand anything he said, but he got really agitated when he found out I didn’t have any money here. I explained I don’t carry around cash, that I’d have to go to the bank or call my accountant to get the money. But I got the feeling he’s not working alone.”

“That’s good, thank you.” Officer Turner gave her a huge grin, exposing even white teeth, and Gage fought back the urge to punch him right in those pearly whites. Where was all this animosity coming from? He barely knew the woman, and yet he wanted to tear apart anybody even coming close to her.

“We’ll need you both to down to the station to give formal statements.” Office Turner glanced over at Gage. “She’s very lucky you showed up when you did, Mr. Newsome. Things might have turned out much differently if you hadn’t.”

Gage watched Suzanna turn pale at the policeman’s words. Guess it hadn’t fully dawned on her just how dire the situation had been, or her lucky escape. Because she was right, if the guy in the ski mask managed to somehow get her out of the hotel, her chances of survival dropped dramatically.

“We’ll come by later this afternoon and give our formal statements, if that’s okay.” Gage wanted to get that over with as soon as possible, a plan already forming in the back of his mind.

Jean-Luc and Officer Turner each grabbed an arm and lifted the perp from the floor, before Jean-Luc pulled out a pocketknife and cut the zip ties on the guy’s ankles. With a quiet snick, he closed it and slid it back out of sight.

The door opened about halfway and Officer Stevens stuck his head around the side of it. “Hallways clear, got the crowd dispersed, but I heard there’s a TV reporter camped out downstairs. You about ready to head back to the station?”

“Yep.” Turner grabbed the perp by the elbow, and headed for the door. “Jean-Luc, tell your daddy hello for me, and thanks for the shrimp. My wife made the best shrimp and grits the other night with ’em. Delicious.”

“I will.”

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Gage was left with Suzanna and Jean-Luc. Though she still had a slight tremble, the color had returned to her face. He knew from experience that the reality of what happened hadn’t set it yet, and when it did he needed to be there. The worse thing that could happen was if she tried to handle it alone. Like she didn’t already have enough trauma and drama in her life, this was the cherry on top.

He turned to Jean-Luc. “Appreciate you being here. I’m assuming your dad asked you to keep an eye on Ms. Dawkins?”

Jean-Luc leaned against the wall, ankle crossed. He appeared relaxed, like he dealt with masked assailants all the time. Who knows, Gage thought, maybe he did? He was a Boudreau after all.

“He did. Wish I’d gotten here a little sooner, but my wife wasn’t feeling well. Morning sickness has been rearing its decidedly unwelcome head.”

“Congratulations,” Suzanna whispered, standing to move next to Gage. She definitely looked a little better, judging from the look on her face. The terror was gone, replaced by anger.

Jean-Luc grinned. “She’s thrilled to be pregnant—most of the time. Right now, she’s cursing my name and swearing she’s going to rip my lungs out through my nose. I, personally, will get down on my knees and thank the Good Lord Above when this phase passes.”

“Just a suggestion, but give her anything she wants. Chocolate, pickles, ice cream. Whatever, whenever she wants it. And learn to say ‘yes, ma’am’ a lot. It’ll make things easier for you.” Suzanna’s teasing grin eased the knot in Gage’s chest, the on that’d been there ever since he’d wrestled the masked guy to the floor. No, even before that—when he’d heard the gun shot.

“Okay, now the cops are gone, want to tell me what actually happened?” Gage rotated his neck, hearing the subtle cracking sounds. The past few mornings he’d woken stiff and sore for no reason, other than restless nights. He needed to get in a good workout, maybe give his muscles a slow burn, that’d make him feel better.

“I told the police everything, I swear. I didn’t even know he was at my door until I opened it. I was heading out to get some coffee, maybe a little breakfast. Everything after that seemed to happen so fast, it’s all a bit of a blur. I was terrified he was going to shoot me, especially when he found out I didn’t have any money here. But he kept talking about a ransom, and taking me someplace.”

“Any clue where that might’ve been?” Jean-Luc asked the question Gage was wondering himself.

Suzanna shook her head. “No. Like I told the police, when he found out I didn’t have any money, he called somebody. I can tell you he was unhappy with whoever was on the other end of the phone, because he was practically yelling.”

“How about we get out of here and get you something to eat?” Jean-Luc’s smile was kind and made Gage feel like a rotten scoundrel for not asking first.

“I brought café au lait and beignets from Café Du Monde.” He offered the words in a rush. “That’s why I came. Thought we could discuss the case while you ate.”

Suzanna gave him a tight smile. “That was very thoughtful of you. I have to say your timing was impeccable. Thirty seconds later and…” Her voice trailed off.

“Jean-Luc, you and your brothers work for Carpenter Security, right?”

“Yes. I’ve been with him from the beginning. My brothers joined after they got out of the military.”

“Good. I’d like to hire you.”

“Hire him? Why?” Suzanna’s gaze darted between the two men.

“After this kidnapping attempt, you need bodyguards—”

“No!”

Gage lightly rested his hands on her shoulders, careful to avoid the bandaged area where the bullet had grazed her arm. “Last night you hired me to help prove you didn’t kill your husband. That means you need to trust me to make decisions you might not like, but they’ll keep you safe. You had a strange man force his way into your hotel room, bent on kidnapping or extortion. Physically, you are not safe until whoever did murder your husband has been arrested. I can’t do my job and still be with you twenty-four/seven. That means we need to hire people who can protect you when I’m not around. While I don’t know Jean-Luc and his brothers personally, I know his family—the Texas branch—and I’ve met his father. I can also vouch for Carpenter Security Services. They are the best in the business. You may not agree with or like having somebody with you all the time, but it’s that or I’m taking a hike. What’ll it be?”

Gage could read the indecision on her face, her need to fight him. But this was one battle he would win, because it meant keeping her alive.

“He’s right, Mrs. Dawkins.” They both glanced toward the other man. “Whether you like it or not, you’re life and everything in it is under the microscope of the public. Everybody and their brother will be trying to get to you, hounding you for a variety of reasons. Anything from interviews to requests for donations to their charities, especially once your husband’s will has been probated. A bodyguard is the best solution. And, as Gage said, we’re the best. That’s not bragging, I can show you reports, letters of recommendation from some of our prior clients if you’d like. Heck, I can get you a referral from the Vice President if you’d like one. If you decide you’d prefer somebody else, that’s fine, but I have to strongly encourage you to hire someone, because as a wealthy single woman, you are at high risk.”

Suzanna’s shoulders slumped and she let out osteoarthritis sigh. “I agree to temporarily accepting a bodyguard.” She looked up at Gage. “I feel like I’m still asleep and all of this is a nightmare and I can’t wake up. Steven, being accused of killing him, somebody trying to kidnap me. I swear, I’m ready to get off this rollercoaster now.”

“We’ll figure everything out. I’ve got feelers out with several people. Should hear something back soon. In the meantime, let’s get you something to eat, and then we’ll go and talk to Carpenter Security. After that, we’ll go see the police and give your formal statement. Okay?”

She nodded.

“If you’ve got things handled here, I’m going to head back to the office, and get things started from that end.” Jean-Luc straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Dawkins, everything’s going to be fine, trust me.”

With a smile, he left through the ruined door. Looking at it, Gage frowned, and walked over to the phone on the nightstand, calling down to the front desk. He made arrangements to have them send security up to monitor Suzanna’s room while the door was repaired.

“Come on, I know a place that serves great creole food, if you’re in the mood from something authentic.”

“Actually, I’m starving. I was so nervous about meeting you yesterday, I forgot to eat. With everything this morning, well…”

“Let’s go.”