Her Man in Manhattan - By Trish Wylie Page 0,31

‘What are you doing? This isn’t you.’

But how could she know that for sure?

He released his captive. ‘Go.’

As the man ran towards her Miranda took an instinctive step back. By the time she looked at Tyler again she could sense the hostility aimed at her. Tendrils of rage flowed through the air with the oppressive weight of a brewing storm. ‘I told you to stay in the car with the doors locked. What part of that didn’t you understand?’

‘I...uh...’ She cleared her throat and tried to find her voice. ‘I was never that good at taking orders.’

‘I suggest you start.’ He stepped forwards and past her, his muscles carrying him with the same fluidity of movement she would have associated with a panther.

Her first impression of him as a predator crouched to spring on its prey had been right. She just hadn’t realized how lethal he could be until she saw him in action.

She hesitated before following him, torn between the need to know what had happened and an almost childlike desire to hide. Her gaze darted to the shadows between overflowing Dumpsters, her imagination filling them with everything from rats to Freddie Krueger.

Better the devil—even if it was plainly obvious she didn’t know him that well.

‘Tyler.’ She had to run to catch up. ‘Tyler, wait.’

He stopped so abruptly she almost tripped face-first into his back.

‘That’s the second time you’ve done that.’ She frowned at his chest when he turned around. ‘A little warning would be good.’

Chancing an upwards glance at his shadowed face she discovered he was looking at her through dark hooded eyes.

‘What just happened?’

‘Did you lock the Escalade?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where are the keys?’

She reached into the scooped neckline of her blouse to retrieve them from her bra, jangled them in front of his face and snatched them away before he lifted his arm.

Tyler waggled his fingers at her. ‘Hand them over.’

‘I don’t think so.’ She tucked them back into her bra. ‘You want them you’re going to have to come get them.’

‘You think I won’t?’

‘I think I’ll scream at the top of my lungs if you try.’ As far as she was concerned he wasn’t getting them back until he gave her an explanation. She folded her arms over her breasts to protect her bargaining tool. ‘I’m assuming that man wasn’t a friend of yours.’

‘Good guess.’ The corner of his mouth lifted in a move resembling a sneer. ‘I haven’t made many friends on the periphery of the Russian mob recently.’

Miranda’s jaw dropped. ‘That’s a joke, right?’ A small burst of nervous laughter left her lips. ‘Next thing you’ll be saying you like your Martinis shaken, not stirred.’

‘I’m not a spy.’

‘We’ve already established you weren’t a bodyguard until recently. So what are you?’

He shook his head and turned away, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as she unfolded her arms and fell into step beside him. ‘I’m a street cop—narcotics. The bodyguard thing is a temporary gig.’

‘But you’re still working on a case, aren’t you?’

‘Stopping the flow of drugs in any city with a market for them is like trying to empty the ocean with a teaspoon. I can’t afford to take time off.’

‘Then why are you babysitting me?’

‘I’ve asked that question several times.’

‘But if you’ve never been a bodyguard?’

‘I took the close protection course a few years ago,’ he told her as they turned a corner. ‘Back in the days when I had a career plan I was gonna spend time in every department and work my way up.’

Naturally she wanted to know what had happened to knock him off course but first things first. ‘How long have you been with Narcotics?’

‘Three years—transferred from Vice.’

‘How long have you been a police officer?’

‘Coming up on twelve years.’

She blinked in surprise. He must be older than he looked. ‘What age are you?’

‘Thirty-two—ask a lot of questions when you’re scared, don’t you?’

‘I’m not scared,’ she lied. ‘I’m...’ Her head nodded a little from side to side as she sought the right words. When none was forthcoming she opted for a smidgeon of truth. ‘Okay, I was scared. I’ve never seen anyone... I mean, not in real life...obviously on TV and in movies but—’

‘View’s not so great away from the ivory tower, is it?’ he said dryly. ‘Down here on street level things can get dirty. I know of at least two cold-case homicides in this area in the last couple of years.’

She glared at his tense profile. ‘Are you trying to scare me again?’

The question made him stop