Under Pressure

Sahara said, “I’ve always loved dressing up.”

“Sure, me too. That part was great. But I’d mess up every time.”

“How?” Leese asked, and he looked irate about it.

She rolled one shoulder. “I could never get the hang of the right attire. I’d have a knee-length dress when others wore long, or I’d wear bright colors when others wore pastels. I’d laugh at the wrong things. Or I’d laugh too loud. We’d start dancing and not until it was too late would I realize I was the only one really cutting loose.”

Justice grinned. “Like to dance, do you?”

“Yes. But my idea of dancing and their idea were two very different things.” Might as well admit all her flaws and get it out of the way. “I have no sense of direction either. I’d head for the powder room and end up in the kitchen. If I drank even a little bit, I’d get tipsy, which only amplified all the things I did wrong. Worst of all, the small talk never felt small to me. I was always worried about slipping up and saying something inappropriate.” As in dumb. Or embarrassing. She gestured at Leese. “Ask him. He’ll tell you that I speak without thinking.”

Leese, brows still pinched, said nothing at all.

Justice grinned.

Feeling she had to defend herself, she said, “I moved out without fanfare and went about my life. Not mad, just...apart. Only there was gossip. Rich or poor, affluent or mundane, there’s always gossip. Folks said I disappeared because I had a nervous breakdown, or that I was run off because I’m an embarrassment. One old...” She quickly censored herself. “...busybody even claimed I had a medical affliction of the mental sort, only she didn’t put it that nicely. There was speculation on whether or not I was a drug addict, which would explain my weirdness, or if I’d gotten pregnant by a convict...all sorts of idiotic things. My brothers ignored it. Mother was furious so Webb tried to correct it. I honestly didn’t care. In fact, at the time, I thought it was almost funny. Now, though...”

“It’s a basis,” Leese said. “A way for your stepfather to embellish what was already started. He can go back and rewrite history any way he wants.”

“Yup. I’m afraid so.” She looked only at Leese, not anyone else. “I know I’m odd.” She shook her head, stopping his objection. “I still haven’t learned the knack of thinking before speaking, or the right things to wear. With my students, it doesn’t matter. I wear smocks and we laugh and we have a good time.”

“You should always be comfortable,” Sahara said, and with a shrug she added, “Create your own fashion and to hell with others.”

If only it was that easy. “My mother always said I was too honest. Webb said I was immature. It’s the truth, after moving out, I did what I wanted, when I wanted, without considering ramifications.”

“Like running?” Justice asked.

“It wasn’t the easiest choice. Nothing about it has been easy. But Webb and his cronies are powerful men with so much reach, I wasn’t sure who to trust.” And she needed to stop making excuses. Sitting a little straighter, she admitted, “I decided it’d just be best to take off for a while. So I did.”

“An understandable reaction.” Justice patted her shoulder with his massive paw. “No one blames you.”

She wasn’t sure about that. Leese watched her, but he didn’t say anything. She should have been stronger, tried harder. I should have found a way.

“We’re going to work this out,” Sahara said, all but rubbing her hands together. “We won’t let Georgia’s death be swept away.”

Cat feared it already had been. “What can you do?”

“What can’t I do?” she replied. “But first things first. We need to keep you safe.”

“I’ll see to it.” Leese again stood next to her.

So maybe he didn’t blame her, after all. Didn’t matter, since she blamed herself. But she’d hate to lose him as an ally.

“Yes,” Sahara purred. “I can see that you will. Perhaps you’ll also encourage her to remember that other name?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Cat gulped. His best was probably pretty damned awesome.

“What can I do?” Justice asked.

“Nothing,” Sahara told him. “I have a different job coming up for you. You may as well stick with me the rest of the month. I’d like to assess you.”

He shifted uneasily. “Assess me?”

“She does it with all the new hires,” Leese assured him.

“This is my only chance,” Sahara said, “since soon you’ll accompany the client nonstop.”

“I will?”

“Yes, you see, a certain actor—very hush-hush—who’ll be playing a part in an upcoming MMA movie wants someone who knows the ropes to be his bodyguard. I sold you as the real deal who could not only advise him and teach him the lingo, the rules and routines, but also be his protection at the same time.”

Justice blinked at her. “I... Wow.” Then with accusation, he barked at Leese, “This job is nothing like you claimed it’d be.”

“Complaints?” Leese asked.

“No.” Somewhat dazed, Justice said, “Hell man, I’m lovin’ it.”

Sahara regained their attention. “I have an excellent PI who I’ll have look into Georgia’s death.”

Sharp fear coursed through Cat. “Oh, but—”

“A girl can’t just go missing without someone noticing, right?”

“PI?” Leese asked her, a note of mistrust in his tone. “Who?”

Sahara squeezed his arm. “The same one investigating my brother’s death.”

All news to Catalina, but Leese seemed to understand, so she figured she’d ask him later. If Leese trusted the man, she would too.

Except for one problem. “If you start digging, you’ll lead them straight back to me. I’m sure they already have computer people watching for me to pop up anywhere. I haven’t dared send an email or touch my Facebook. When I withdrew what cash I could from my accounts, I immediately took off. I was afraid the withdrawal could somehow lead them to me. I haven’t used my name anywhere, or any of my credit cards. I’ve tried really, really hard to leave no tracks at all.”

Unconcerned with her panic, Sahara said, “I promise we can be completely discreet. And until we uncover something, you can stay here, perfectly protected.”

“Here?” Still shaken by the idea of anyone poking around—and possibly leaving her exposed—Cat again took in the posh office. Dark wood, plush furniture, massive television screen and full connecting bath; it had all the amenities except a kitchen. Still, she couldn’t see staying in an office.

Not for any length of time.

“Here,” Sahara explained, “in the building. Scott kept a suite but I haven’t used it because...” She tapered off, then whispered, “He was my brother.”

Catalina faltered. For only a flash she saw the same grief she felt mirrored in Sahara’s eyes. She remembered Leese telling her that the agency was under new management—and then she understood. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” Sahara let out a breath, then launched back into business. “There are women’s clothes, makeup, lotions... I don’t know. Many things. They belonged to one of Scott’s girlfriends, who also supposedly died. The last girl was as slim as you, but somewhat taller—who isn’t, right? Feel free to use whatever you can.”

Harking back to the “supposedly died,” Cat wondered what exactly had happened to Sahara’s brother.

Shaking off the melancholy, Sahara said, “You’ll find the suite quite comfortable and I promise you, the security here is top-notch. You don’t need to worry.”