River completed his rounds and returned inside by way of the back door. Walking quietly through the still house, he checked the doors and windows in every room until he was sure everything was secure. Inspecting the space was easy. Joselyn had a wonderful way of making the huge house feel homely without being cluttered. There weren't a lot of knick knacks or extra pieces of furniture. He approved. Living in WitSec for all those years and having to be ready at a moment's notice tended to force a person into living a minimalistic lifestyle.

Sticking his head into the study, he smiled as he watched Joselyn concentrate on the screen, her bottom lip curled over her teeth and a slight frown between her eyebrows. He marveled once again how striking she was. Yes, Joselyn Kendrik was gorgeous, motivated, driven and snarky as well. He loved her little outbursts of spunk and the way she called him on his crap. She was not at all like the women he was normally attracted to. If the situation was different, he would be interested in asking her out, getting to know her better. He wasn't normally a man who dated - more of a "hookup for a night or two" kind of guy instead. He watched her as she typed away. She wasn't the hookup type. No, Joselyn was one of those girls you took home to meet the family. He blew out a breath and reminded himself why he couldn't go there. Moving her from client to personal was a sure way to get one or both of them killed. Drawing back, he turned away from her door. Confident everything looked the way it should, he made his way upstairs to his room. Pushing the door until it was almost closed he pulled the SIG Sauer P226 Mk25 out of its holster and ensured the safety was still engaged. Ejecting the magazine, he checked the breach and placed it with the gun on the table next to his bed. The Navy was starting to switch over to the Glock 19 as their official handgun when he left but all his training was with the SIG; give him familiarity any day. He had spent enough time with this model to feel as if it were an extension of himself.

Pulling out his cell, he placed a call and sat on the edge of the bed where he could keep his eyes on the door and an ear out for anything unusual.

"River."

He should be surprised Bull knew it was him calling since he blocked his number but he wasn't. Serving together, Bull always seemed to know things he shouldn't. It was only one of many qualities that had made Bull a natural leader.

River cut right to the point. "Heard anything?"

"Nope. I've gone over the files with a fine-tooth comb. The only thing I am sure of is Douglas Beecher McClane 's death. Whoever is after Ms. Kendrik... it's not him."

River nodded as if Bull could see him. "We already knew who it wasn't. We need to find out who it is."

A long drawn breath sounded over the line. "I'm trying but I'm not even supposed to be working on this case. If I can even call it a case. As far as official channels go, it's a nuisance report at best. I'm having to work things quietly to keep my ass from getting ground up for dog food. How is she doing?"

River laughed. "Better than I am, I think. Remember the week in Costa Rica? The anticipation here is worse. It's like I'm holding my breath, waiting for something to happen."

"Maybe you being there has scared her stalker off. Look, man, I know you have things to do. You came out here at my request. If you think it's over, go ahead and go. You have security measures in place now. She'll be alright."

"Mr. Benson? River?"

He heard her call to him from the lower level. "My gut tells me this thing isn't over. I don't know who this yokel is and I don't know what he has planned. Everything in me is saying Joselyn is still in danger and I'm not going to leave her vulnerable. I got nothing better to do right now. Keep on digging. Give me something... anything. I'll check in with you in a few days."

He disconnected the call, picked up his gun, reinserted the magazine and secured it into his belt holster. He met her on the stairs. "Yes, Ma'am?"

She looked at him from the bottom of the stairs with those huge brown eyes and he felt a hitch in his stomach So pretty. So vulnerable. So perfect.

Don't get involved.

"We've been cooped up in this house for a while now. Don't you think it's time we dropped the formalities? Please, call me Joselyn or even Jos."

"Joselyn it is. So Joselyn, what can I do for you?"

She peered at him through the balusters. "I finished my manuscript and sent it off to the editor so it's time to celebrate. Go put on your dress holster, shine your best combat boots and break out the formal tee-shirt because we're going to get a real dinner in a real restaurant. Somewhere other than Giovanni's. I feel like I'm one meal away from becoming a cannoli."

He couldn't help chuckling; she was so cute and feisty. Once again, it was clear to him how perfect she would be for him. He could almost imagine how perfectly she would fit tucked under his arm as they walked the streets and alleys of the French Quarter. Despite what he had told her during their first meeting, he did want to find out her hope and dreams. He could easily see himself spending hours getting to know her. Unfortunately, he couldn't. Letting the grin fade, he forced his mind back to the business at hand. "I don't think that's a good idea, Joselyn."

She raised one eyebrow. "I always celebrate the end of a manuscript by going out to eat. After weeks of hunching over a keyboard, barely sleeping and sustaining on takeout or whatever I can scrounge from the kitchen, I need to get out. I need to associate with people who don't originate in my own mind. When the story takes me, I do well to remember about showering and brushing my teeth. I forget everything else until I get it's done. Nope, we are going out. I'm going to get ready and I'll meet you in the living room in a half hour. With or without you, Maddox, I'm blowing this popsicle stand for a while." She smirked mischievously. "I'll even let you drive me so you don't have to fold yourself up into my car. See, I can be reasonable." She climbed the stairs. "I'm in the mood for something authentic like gumbo and crawfish etouffee." She bumped against his hip on her way by and disappeared into her room.

He watched the door close and heard the shower start in her bathroom. Immediately visions of how she would look naked with water sluicing over her body danced through his head and filled his body with want. Shoving it down, he muttered to himself, "You are only interested in her safety. Nothing else, SEAL. Keep it in your pants."

He knew it for the lie it was and snorted.

* * *

"So there I was, sitting at my first convention with stacks of books, a handful of markers and absolutely no idea what to do. I felt a hand on my shoulder and it startled me. I jumped. Books and pens flew everywhere. Immediately I got down on the floor and started to gather everything together before it could get stomped on. I glanced up and there was Annabeth looking at me with a quizzical expression. Next to her was a tall man with long black hair, blue eyes and covered in tattoos. She leans toward him slowly and says in a conspiratorial whisper, 'It's the medications. I promise we'll fix the dosage before the next book comes out.' Then she introduced me to Martin Strong, two-time Male Romance Model of the Year and the cover for my next novel. I was completely mortified to meet both him and my literary agent for the first time while scrambling around on my knees."

Laughing, talking and simply existing was easy. Each moment he spent with Joselyn hammered the point home. She was funny, sweet, beautiful and he loved spending time with her. She was also pretty smart and though River hated to admit it, she had been right. They both needed a little R&R. It was nice to get away and almost forget. He motioned to the waiter. "Check, please," he said before he turned his attention back to her.

"In my second book, Deidre teamed up with a Marine to solve the crime. I did a lot of research so I know you military guys give each other nicknames for some pretty strange reasons at times. So where did 'River' come from?" Joselyn drained the last of the wine from her glass and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands.

The waiter returned with the check and she lunged to grab it but River pulled it away. "Nuh-uh, this one's on me." He pulled out a card and dropped it on top of the leather guest check sleeve after glancing at the total.

"Why, Mr. Benson, how positively gallant," she gushed in a faux Southern belle accent. She batted her eyelashes at him. "But don't get into the habit of paying. Speaking of, we haven't discussed what I'm paying you for your help. I guess we should have talked about it before now." Her face fell. "Crapadoo, can I even afford you?"

He threw his head back and laughed. "You can afford me since I'm doing this for free. I owed Bull a favor and he called it in. "

"I can't allow you to do that. I have to pay you something. Your time is valuable."

"I said don't worry about it."

"Easy for you to say," she retorted. "I want to pay you for your expertise at least."

"Uncle Sam already did. Joselyn, don't sweat it; I'm glad to help out. To be honest, it's giving me a little break before I have to decide what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. Who knows, maybe I'll go into professional bodyguarding after this and I'll have you to thank for it."

She snorted. "Or you'll run screaming when you realize how bad it can be."

He laughed again. "You have a wonderful sense of humor."

"Thank you, but don't think I've forgotten what we were talking about. Seriously, how did you get your nickname?"

"No chance of letting that go, eh? Since you insist on knowing, it was during BUD/s."

She sat up straight. "You're a SEAL?"

"Well done. Most civilians don't know what that means." He drained the last of his water, signed the ticket after adding a good tip and replaced his card in his wallet. "Fourteen years."

Her mouth dropped open as her eyes widened. "I knew you were in the military from what Detective Jameson said but I didn't know you were in special forces. Wow, I'm impressed."

He shrugged. "It's not something we advertise." He leaned back and rested his hands on his stomach. "Back to your question; it was the first week of BUD/s. We were all sitting around, shooting the breeze and the subject of nicknames came up. Already, a couple had earned a new moniker but I knew enough to keep my head down and my mouth shut. The last thing I wanted was to be saddled with a name that was just a big joke. The one they decided on wasn't too bad to be honest, as it could have been a lot worse. You see, most of the guys entered the program right out of training but I had already been in for six years. I was the old man in the group. There's one guy, Hick, who asked me why I didn't already have one. I said I was too old to worry with nicknames but that excuse didn't go over too well." He chuckled at the memory. "Hick snapped his fingers and said, 'You're from Mississippi and you are the old man here. Old Man River.'" He shrugged, "And there it is."

Joselyn studied him for a moment. He could actually feel her eyes sweep his features. He wanted to crow with pride because she seemed to like whatever it was she saw in him. Finally, she spoke. "I think it's a great name for you. Rivers are calm on the surface but underneath Deadly and dangerous. They are a force to be reckoned with and given the right circumstances and time, can make changes in their environment. Yeah, I think they gave you the ideal name. From what I've seen, it fits you perfectly."

"Why, Ms. Kendrik, how positively gallant," he quipped.

They sat there in silence, gazing at each other until finally she cleared her throat and blushed. "It's getting late," she muttered as she stood and swayed slightly. Perhaps it was the moment or the ridiculous heels she wore but River was pretty sure it had more to do with the bottle she had consumed. Immediately, he shot to his feet and pulled her securely against his body. She felt right, pressed against him, all soft and curves. He couldn't help himself; he laid his head on hers, closed his eyes and inhaled her scent. She smelled amazing - like orange blossoms and the Chianti still sitting on the table. He stroked his hand up her back and underneath her hair, touching the warm skin with his fingertips. A part of him knew they couldn't be more, that he couldn't go any further than this moment so he committed it to his memory. It would have to be enough when this was over and he went on to whatever his life would become. Suddenly, only memories of Joselyn didn't feel like enough and yet it would have to be. He sighed and gently pushed her back.

She looked up at him with misunderstanding. "I don't," she started.

He hated the betrayal glimmering in her eyes. "It's better this way," he murmured away. Motioning for her to precede him, River followed her out of the restaurant, careful to keep his eyes on the other guests, the floor, the wall, the door - anywhere but on Joselyn.

Reaching the parking lot, she suddenly stopped and gasped. Immediately, he went on point, pulling his weapon and looking for danger. Not seeing anything, he pointed the handgun toward the concrete and closed the distance to her. "What is it," he whispered.

He searched her face. She was pale and her eyes were wide. Instead of answering, she pointed with one trembling finger toward his truck. Fluttering on the hood was a piece of paper with a small jar sitting on top. Taking the last few steps, he stood in front of his Ford. He read the words on the paper.

Busy little bees working the hive,

Struggling to keep their queen alive.

Drones attend to obtain favor,

Workers to toil in their tiresome labor.

A soldier guards the queen at home,

But cannot stop the end to come.

Poor little queen, sealed by fate,

The soldier's attempts will be too late.

Inside the jar, floating in what was most likely honey, were several bees. They were all intact except for one; the largest had been decapitated. Back on the farm in Mississippi, River's aunt and uncle had once possessed several bee hives to harvest honey. He knew without a shadow of a doubt the decapitated one was a queen. Fury like he had never felt before swept over him. The bastard was still out there, still hunting her. He was obviously aware of who River as well as the part he played in all this. A growl erupted from his throat as he glared around the empty lot, searching for the culprit. There was no one around. Placing his sidearm into its holster once again, he cradled Joselyn next to his body and hurried her back to the restaurant. Once he had her sitting at the hostess station and was sure she was okay, he withdrew his cell and pushed a number. When it connected, he snarled into the device.

"Bull, meet me at the parking lot on Iberville near Royal. There's another gift."