Treasures aka See How She Dies

windows that had a view of the door. Zach could watch people on the sidewalk near the exterior door and he could also watch anyone slipping into the bar through the vestibule. Not that there weren’t hidden service entrances and back doors where someone could slip inside.

Adria had never felt more vulnerable in her life. And yet, silly as it was, Zach’s presence was comforting. If only she could trust him.

You can’t trust anyone, Adria. Remember that. Remember the notes. Remember the package that is now in Zach’s pocket. Don’t let your guard down for a second.

A waiter deposited their drinks and Adria tried to sip her wine, but she couldn’t enjoy a swallow, not with Zach so close, his eyes trained on the doorway, his jaw hard and set. Not with everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Zach glanced around the small establishment, his gaze scouring the patrons settled into dark, paneled booths or perched upon stools at the long, polished metal bar. “I don’t like this,” he said, ignoring his beer as laughter broke out from a corner table.

“That makes two of us.” But along with a case of nerves, she was furious. No one had the right to terrorize her. “Look, I’m not going to let that bastard, whoever he is, stop me. That’s what he’s trying to do, you know. I guess he thinks I’ll just shiver in my boots and hurry on back to Montana.”

Zach’s mouth twitched.

“Well, it’s just not happening. He’s made me too angry. Instead of running scared, I’ve decided to notch things up a bit. Turn up the heat.”

He watched her over the rim of his glass.

“I’m going to go to the press and I’ll start with the newspapers.”

“Fine.” His eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Don’t you care?”

“What? About the bad press? Hell, no. What I care about is that you don’t get hurt.” His gaze drilled into hers and she had to look away. “Call a damned press conference for all I care, but watch your back. Better yet, have someone watch it for you.” He took a long pull on his beer and his eyes narrowed on her in a way that made her stupid heart skip a beat. “You know what you need?”

She nearly groaned. “No, but I have the feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“A bodyguard.”

“What? You’re joking, right?”

“Not a bit.”

He was suddenly so serious, she nearly laughed. “Give me a break. I can take care of myself. Remember, I grew up on a ranch in Montana and-”

“And you’re getting threatening letters.”

“From a coward.”

“Who plays with dead animals. Wake up, Adria. This is serious.”

She felt a chill as cold as midnight pass over her skin and swallowed hard. “So…Danvers…Are you suggesting that you become my bodyguard? Are you applying for the job?”

He didn’t reply but gazed straight back at her with such an intensity she felt as if her diaphragm had slammed up against her lungs. Breathing was suddenly all but impossible.

“Don’t you think it would be stupid of me, I mean really stupid, to have someone named Danvers protecting me?”

“You can’t fight the world alone.”

“Not the world, Zach. Just the Danvers family.”

“They’re powerful.”

“You mean you’re powerful, don’t you? You’re part of the family whether you like it or not.”

He hunched over his beer. “For the record, I don’t like it.”

“But you’re tied to them, aren’t you?” she said. “Because of Daddy’s money.”

His arm shot across the table and he clamped his work-roughened fingers over her wrist. His words came out in a low, menacing growl. “Listen to me, lady. I’m trying to do you a favor here and all you’re doing by fighting me is pissing in the wind.”

“I don’t want any favors.” She inched her chin up but she couldn’t ignore the five warm impressions where his fingertips pressed against the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. Her throat seemed as dry as smoke and his gaze lowered, resting for what seemed an endless second on the pulse throbbing above her collarbone.

“I’m trying to help you. After the threats you’ve been getting I’d think you’d take a hand when it’s offered.”

She wanted to believe him, but she knew that he was probably lying, that he’d been sent on a mission to render her harmless. He’d come from the family-whether he admitted it or not-and that thought, of the Danvers kin deciding how to manipulate her, caused her temper to ignite. For as long as she could remember, someone was trying to dictate to her, bend her will, and this time, by God, she wasn’t giving in an inch. Gritting her teeth, she yanked back her arm and scrambled to her feet. “Back off, Danvers. I know I’m on my own here, so you don’t need to be playing the part of the hero.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“You tell me.”

He watched her storm out the door, noticed the curve of her hips and the stiff set of her back. Her legs were thin, but not skinny, and he wondered what they’d feel like wrapped around his waist.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, disgusted at the direction of his thoughts.

No matter what, he intended to camp out on her doorstep. Dropping some bills on the table, he took out after her. He stepped into the lobby just as the elevator doors were closing, but that suited him just fine and he paused, leaning against a pillar to watch as the elevator’s indicator lights mounted over the closed doors, blinked on in succession, then held steady for several seconds at the fifth floor. There were no other stops as the car descended. Without a second’s hesitation, he waited for the doors to open and rode the empty car back up. He’d sit out in the hallway if he had to, but he’d damn well see for himself if there was anyone set on stalking her.

The elevator bell rang softly as it reached the fifth floor. Zac stepped into the empty corridor and spied a house telephone. He made a quick call to Len Barry, his friend on the force. Len agreed to stop by for the package burning a hole in Zach’s jacket pocket. After hanging up, Zach found a chair and fake tree nestled against windows at the corner of the hallway, with a view down both wings. He settled into the low-backed chair to wait.

Adria slowly counted to ten. Zachary’s taunts had followed her up the elevator shaft. His arrogance disturbed her-the way he tried to order her around made her want to kick at something. He and the rest of the family acted as if she just wanted to rip off all their money. She unclipped her hair and threw the barrette onto the bed in frustration. “Bastard,” Adria muttered and caught herself as the word rolled easily off her tongue.

There was more than a little truth to the name, wasn’t there? If she looked inside herself, really looked, she knew she’d discover that a part of her wanted Zach to be sired by another man-any man other than Witt Danvers, whom she believed to be her own father.

Because, damn it, she found Zachary sensual and disturbing and like no man she’d ever met before. Was he trying to help her? Or had it all been an act?

Her head began to pound. Was Zach really Witt’s son? Oh, who cared? Did it matter? All she needed to know was if she was really Witt’s daughter. Zach’s paternity wasn’t something she needed to think about. Zachary Danvers wasn’t anyone she needed to think about.

She picked up the newspaper lying in sections on the small table in her room and snapped it open. With furious fingers, she flipped through the pages and stopped at the section marked Rooms For Rent. Tomorrow, first thing, she’d find a new place to live, then she’d waltz into the Oregonian and tell a tale that would leave the reporters hustling as they scrambled to get her story into the next edition. Later she’d talk to the television and radio news stations.

If the Danvers family wanted to play hardball, so be it. She was more than ready to pitch them a curveball the likes of which they’d never yet seen.