“No, I don’t think I’m in trouble,” Angelica uttered, her blue eyes wavering.

He didn’t personally know her that well, but he was sure that she was hiding something. As an expert observant, he could very well tell for certain.

He could have just taken her words and walked out the door, free of responsibilities, but he knew Patrick and the old man wouldn’t have risked Henry’s identity being exposed by writing that letter if he was not certain about it. He could have just ignored the request as well if he did not have a debt to pay. What a blasted lucky day for me, he muttered sarcastically inside his mind.

“Where is he?” he asked, changing the topic. He could deal with his old friend’s daughter later.

She seemed quite taken aback by his question, but she stepped back and led the way without a word.

 *****

Angelica felt like she was walking through a dream. Everything happened so fast when you look at it at a non-sleeping time, but she felt she was moving through time in a very slow motion. She was not yet over the shock over her father’s sudden death and now she just found out that she had an instant guardian like she was some orphaned ten-year-old.

Yeah, sure, Henry Bell was one hell of a handsome, gorgeous man--one she could make as her next target now that Philip’s not available.

It’s not such a bad idea, the wicked side of her whispered mischievously.

It might scare him away and that’s what you want right now, the other anti-guardian part added.

But what if you’re in real trouble? That scared voice said almost in panic.

What are police people for? That smart part answered.

Yeah, that’s right. She didn’t have to tell Henry Bell anything. Those guys who entered her father’s room could just be burglars or something.

Ordinary burglars can’t just come and go inside your father’s house, you idiot, that annoying know-it-all part of her mentally slapped her.

“I have to talk to Cole about this outrageous situation,” she finally decided out loud, breaking the silence between them. “I’m sure he’ll have some kind of explanation.”

“You can do that,” Henry uttered, nodding his head. Angelica stopped when they reached her father’s bedroom door.

“Some guys are coming to get him. Take your time. I’ll be in his study,” she announced, already making her way further down the hall. She had to call Cole and demand for an explanation. It’s just freaking unbelievable and unimaginable to have someone like Henry Bell as her guardian. It was too ancient to have one for heaven’s sake!

And before she forgot what she had to do next after calling Cole, she reminded herself that she also had to call the police. She would handle this her way.

 *****

The first thing Henry noted the moment he stepped inside Patrick Dalton’s room was not his dead body lying on the bed, but the opened drawers and the gentle flap of the drapes of one window right across the door. His innate instinct both as a fighter and observer kicked in.

Someone got in.

It was possible that Angelica Dalton knew about it or the break in happened while they were talking outside. Anyways, this was not good. It meant Patrick was seriously in trouble before he died.

Reminded of his old friend, he turned his head to the right and found the man lying on his huge bed, eyes closed, lips pursed. His body was covered with a thick cloth from chest down.

Henry could still remember the last time he talked with the man…

“Son, you have to fix everything right before you lose more time. You will never know if you’ll wake up tomorrow,” the old man had said to him while they were in his office, talking about the past—his past.

Patrick had been like a father to him. Hell, the man was the only person he trusted to tell about his real identity. Not even Philip knew about it. And now it felt weird to see him lying lifeless on that bed, his chest not moving up and down in breathing, his face not flushed with rushing blood.

Given Patrick’s age which was sixty-nine, he was quite built and healthy. Henry knew he exercised daily. And it was such a big curiosity to know that he was dead.

He met Patrick while he was doing his job. It was night time, the wind was cold, and the streets were empty except them. Henry shook the memories of that night. He had been young and stupid and Patrick had been kind, too kind in fact if he thought about it.

Being in the same room as Patrick, he couldn’t help but think about foul play. For anyone, it was something far from reality, but in Henry’s world, anything was possible. He knew deep in his gut that something was off.

But what? As far as he knew, Patrick was an honest man and was not likely to make any enemies--well, as far as everyone thought, that is. But that was another matter. Patrick's secrets must remain as they were until the right time came. As an owner of a law firm, his partners honored and respected him. Yes, there might have been people who went to jail because of Dalton and Foster Law, but Patrick had never handled a case for twenty years now. That much Henry knew.

If he made enemies, this might mean he lost, he thought to himself as he walked towards the bed.

It could have been his past cases, he thought and mentally noted that he had to check it out. For now, he had to take Patrick’s words that his lovely daughter might be in danger.

Wait…lovely? I must be kidding myself, he snapped at himself. There was nothing lovely about Angelica Dalton. Lovely was too sweet a word to describe the lady from the stories he heard circling around the male population and from his own point of view. She’s wild, aggressive, bold, proud, and…what? Hot? Beautiful? Smart? Right that moment, he didn’t appreciate his great assessment skills. He could very well mentally picture every part of her and he knew it was not good. He couldn’t show her what he thought of her. Not in this lifetime, no.

 *****

Her father’s office was like a library—literally. It was her most favorite part of the house when she was young. It was where she took comfort during those dark years. Angelica could still picture herself hiding in between the high bookcases, her face hidden behind large textbooks her little mind couldn’t really comprehend. But she tried to immerse herself in them anyway, forcing herself to enjoy every page just to be able to momentarily escape from reality—from the silence and cold atmosphere. In this library that her father only used during night time, she became strong. She was able to get through one day without her mother and the maids noticing.

Slowly, she inched towards the great oak table of her father’s and found the phone, her footsteps muffled by the dark thick carpet. At first, she was in doubt if she should call the police first, but thinking that it might raise a lot of questions, she decided to dial Cole Hartman instead.

“Cole Hartman,” her father’s attorney answered from the other end.

“Cole, it’s me, Angelica. I want to talk to you about Mr. Bell,” she uttered, sitting on the table, her left leg dangling. She had never sat on her father’s chair. Not once, not ever.

“What about him?” Cole asked curiously.

“What’s this thing about him being my guardian? I don’t think it’s necessary—”

“Ms. Dalton, as I’ve told Mr. Bell, I don’t really have any idea about the reason why your father had appointed him as your guardian. I asked him that myself, but he wouldn’t give me an answer. All he said is that it has to remain confidential. Actually, I will meet with you tomorrow right after the cremation to talk about the very same matter. I have papers signed by your father that he ordered me to give you.”

“What papers?”

“That would be discussed tomorrow. I can’t talk about it over the phone.”

“What if I don’t want Mr. Bell as my guardian? For heaven’s sake, Cole, I’m freaking twenty-four! I don’t need a thirty year-old guy tailing me wherever I go!”

“Ms. Dalton, as I’ve said, I can’t answer that right now. But I can assure you now that your father has been adamant about you being placed under Mr. Bell’s hands until you are twenty-five. I really need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Cole, wait,” she hastily said before the man could hang up. “I don’t want anyone else during the cremation. Can you see to that?”

There was a long pause. “Yes, I’ll see to that if that’s what you want.”

“And keep it quiet. I don’t want the media to know.”

“Yes, Ms. Dalton,” Cole answered and hanged up.

Angelica stared in midair as Cole’s words ran around her mind. She was really struggling to keep her touch into reality right now. It was just freaking unbelievable.

If Henry Bell became her guardian, what would happen then? Would she be like on parole or something? Did she have to report to him everything she did? Did she have to make some sort of journal or diary of the stuff happening in her life so he wouldn’t miss a thing? What? Would he live with her?

That would not happen. You can’t let that happen, that scared voice said.

He could protect you, te smart voice added in contradiction. You could really be in serious danger. You need someone to watch over you.

The police can handle that, she countered. Thinking of the police, she picked up the phone once again and dialed 911. Well, she didn’t know any number except that, so…

As the phone rang, the double doors of her father’s study opened and Henry Bell’s big form appeared. Unlike Philip, he didn’t look so good wearing a suit. She could picture him wearing more casual clothing though.

“911, what’s your emergency?” a lady’s voice asked from the other end.

As if the phone was burning hot, she dropped it back down on the receiver and jumped off the table, straightening her dress. “What’s up?” she asked, inviting Henry to walk towards her.

“What happened to your father’s room?” he asked.

“I was trying to look for something,” she lied for the second time in her life.

And she was certain Henry Bell could see that but was glad he didn’t point it out.

“Are you leaving?” she asked, more like suggesting.

He seemed to think for a moment before nodding his head. “I’ll be at the cremation,” he said.

“No, I want no one else tomorrow.”

Henry turned his head to one side and raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “Did you forget I’m your guardian?”

“It’s not settled yet,” she snapped, placing one hand on her hip.

“We’ll see about that, Ms. Dalton.”

“Yeah, I think so too, Mr. Bell.”

He smiled at her, stepped back, and exaggeratedly swung his arms sideward with a bow. “See you whenever,” he uttered and walked out the doors.

Angelica was cringing at his back as he did so. What the hell…

She remembered she had to call the police so she turned towards the table once again, but as she picked up the phone, she saw something that was never there the last time she came inside her father’s study. It was a picture frame—her picture.

Angelica didn’t know what to feel. Her father had never showed her his sentimental side. Her reflexes were fast and she found herself holding the frame in one hand. And that was when she felt it. With the pads of her fingers at the back of the frame, she felt something. The surface should be flat. She turned it around and saw a black device pasted on the black surface. If you were not looking for it, you wouldn’t have seen it, but then, if you were looking for it, you would have had a hard time as well, because it camouflaged the black back portion of the frame. There must have been some kind of magnetic stuff happening because when she tried to pull the small device from the frame, it came off just as easily, and there was no sign that something was used to paste it there.

Angelica forgot about the frame and placed it back on the table along with the phone. She held the small device at eye level and examined it. It was about two inches long and half an inch thick. Well, she knew what it was the moment she pulled off the cover. It was a saving device.

Her mind started to race along one thought.

She had the biggest hunch that she found the very thing the intruders were looking for.