The Bodyguard Page 19

  A sickening crack echoed through the room. Daniel’s eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to the floor. He didn’t get back up.

  “That was for Carol and Mitch, you piece of filth,” Luke rasped.

  “Police! Freeze!” someone yelled behind him.

  Ignoring the order, he tossed the drill aside and crawled the last few feet to the slaughter box. The sound of running feet echoed behind him. He reached down and pulled Carol up and out of the box. Her eyes widened as she looked past him at Daniel’s body lying on the floor. Her fingers dug into his shirt. He twisted to block her view, cradled her in his lap and pressed her face against his chest.

  She sobbed and a flood of tears soaked his shirt.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered against her hair. “It’s okay. It’s over. You’re safe. You’re finally safe.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Three months later

  Luke leaned his forearms on his new desk and looked through the glass wall of his office into the main room of Dawson’s Personal Security Services. Fifteen other shiny new desks sat in the enlarged space. He’d rented the office next to his and had knocked down the wall in between to expand. He’d hired eight more bodyguards and an admin assistant to help Trudy since her workload as office manager had gotten so heavy.

  The notoriety from the Ashton case had gained him more paying clients—well-paying clients—than he could handle. And it didn’t hurt that Stellar Security had suffered a severe blow after the investigation proved Daniel Ashton had been fed information from GPS locators on his family’s vehicles and that some of the guards had even spied for him. They’d looked the other way when asked—like the night Grant Ashton allegedly “broke into” the mansion.

  Business was good, but it didn’t bring the joy or sense of accomplishment he’d hoped for. Nothing these days did. And he knew why.

  Carol.

  He hadn’t seen or heard from her since that harrowing night at the packing plant. They’d both been brought into separate interview rooms at the police station where they’d each given their statements about everything that had happened.

  Cornell had sent his men to all the Ashton warehouses in the city to search for Grant Ashton’s family, based on the warehouse in the background of the pictures Grant had taped to the door at the plant. His hunch had paid off and Grant’s wife and daughter were found safe. It had taken a few hours, and Luke had stayed in Cornell’s office receiving minute-by-minute updates, until it was over. Then he’d gone out to update Carol, but she was gone.

  Luke pulled his top desk drawer open and unfolded the single sheet of paper she’d asked Cornell to give him that night.

  Luke, I’m sorry to leave things this way, but I have to get out of here. I’m leaving Savannah and all the ugliness behind. I don’t know if I’ll be back. Thank you for being there for me. You kept your promise. You saved me. That’s a debt I can never repay. All I can say is thank you, and goodbye.

  He refolded the note and dropped it back into the drawer. Blowing out a deep breath, he shoved his chair back and crossed to the window to stare down at the street below.

  Behind him, in the outer office, the little bell Trudy had insisted on putting above the door tinkled, announcing they had a visitor. Luke didn’t bother to turn around. Trudy had taken her role of replacing Mitch as office manager quite seriously. She was like a little general, bossing the bodyguards around, undaunted by the fact that most of them were well over a foot taller than her. Luke had yet to see anyone Trudy couldn’t handle.

  “Well, hello, there,” Trudy called out, obviously recognizing whoever had come in. “It’s good to see you again. What can we do for you today?”

  “I need a bodyguard.”

  Luke froze at the sound of that soft, achingly familiar voice. It can’t be. He slowly turned around.

  Carol stood fifteen feet away, her startlingly blue eyes meeting his, her pink lips curving into a smile. “Hello, Luke.”

  Trudy glanced back and forth between them, then—for once—melted quietly away to the far side of the room without saying a word.

  Luke stepped out of his office and stopped in front of Carol, his hungry gaze drinking her in. “You colored your hair brown.”

  She patted her hair as if self-conscious. “It’s as close to my natural color as the stylist could make it, for now, until the roots grow out.”

  “I like it.”

  “Thank you.”

  He wanted to reach for her, to pull her against him. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “You told Trudy you needed a bodyguard. Someone’s bothering you?”

  “No. No one’s bothering me.”

  He frowned. “But you need a bodyguard?”

  “Well, I suppose to be more accurate, I’d have to say I need the bodyguard. The bodyguard who saved my life a few months ago.” She stepped forward, until the toes of her heels pressed against the toes of his dress shoes. “I need you, Luke.”

  Afraid to hope, he cleared his throat again. “You might need to spell this out for me because I have a feeling I’m misunderstanding you. After that night at the plant, you left. You didn’t wait to talk to me. You didn’t answer my calls or letters. That doesn’t sound like you need me.”

  She glanced around the office, at the handful of bodyguards trying to pretend not to listen to them. Trudy didn’t even bother pretending. She sat at her desk, her head in her hands, unabashedly staring.

  “Is there somewhere...private...where we can talk?”

  He stepped back and waved her toward his office. When she stepped inside, he closed the blinds on the glass walls and door, then turned to face her. “All right. No one’s watching, or listening. Except me.”

  She bit her bottom lip and crossed the room to stand in front of him again. She held her hand out. “Hi, my name is Carol Bagwell. I legally changed my last name. I’m an Ashton no more.”

  He shook her hand and smiled reluctantly. “Believe me, you were never an Ashton. You’ve always been better than that.”

  She grinned. “I think so, too.” Her grin faded. “Luke, when I left Savannah, it wasn’t you I was leaving. It was...everything that had happened. I was confused, scared. I needed to get my head on straight. I went from living with my controlling, critical parents to living with a husband and having my every action, my every thought, controlled by him. When you came into my life, you were too good to be true. But I wasn’t ready for you. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I needed time, and space, to figure that out.”

  “Where did you go when you left?”

  “As far away as I could get without leaving the country. I went to the West Coast, to Seattle. But I couldn’t escape my past by running away. I had to work with lawyers to settle the Ashton estate. They located Richard’s true will at Wiley & Harrison and refiled. Grant’s wife and daughter got nearly half the estate. The other half went to Daniel. True to his nature, Richard left me nothing.” Her lips curved in a smile. “But Daniel didn’t have a will, and no spouse or children. So the court awarded Daniel’s portion to me. I hope Richard is turning over in his grave right now.”

  Luke smiled. “Good for you.”

  “I gave it away, though,” she said.

  He coughed. “What?”

  “The money. Half a billion dollars in assets. I gave it to a women’s charity. They’re going to build a halfway house for abused women right here in Savannah. And with all that money, they’ll be able to help women all over the country. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  He ran his finger down her soft cheek. “I think you’re the most kind and generous woman I’ve ever met. Personally, I’d have kept a few million. But I understand why you didn’t want to keep your husband’s money. You wanted a fresh start. Right?”

  “You do understand. I knew you wou
ld. I’m in therapy, probably will be for a long time. I’m a mess, actually, in a lot of ways. But I’m growing stronger every day. And there’s one thing for sure that I know that I want.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You. I want you. That is, if you still want me now that I’m a pauper.”

  He spanned her waist with his hands and set her on the desk so they were almost at eye level. “Carol,” he said, “I’m in love with you, in case you haven’t figured that out.”

  He covered her lips with his and consumed her in a searing kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tightly against her as she kissed him back. When they broke apart, they were both out of breath.

  He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck.

  She shivered. “Luke?”

  “Hmm?” He kissed her collarbone.

  “When I told you I gave away a half a billion dollars, I may have neglected to mention something.”

  He moved to her ear and sucked her earlobe between his teeth.

  She gasped. “Luke!”

  He laughed and pulled back, looping his arms around her waist. “I don’t care how poor you are, or what kind of trouble or baggage you bring with you. I’ll take you any way I can get you.” He leaned in for another kiss, but she pressed her hands against his chest, stopping him.

  “I just need to make sure there’s complete honesty between us.”

  He grimaced. “The video card, right? I destroyed it. I got it back from Alex and I cut the thing into pieces. Then I burned it. I’m so sorry I broke my promise.”

  She blinked. “The video card? No, no. That’s ancient history. I understand why you felt you had to do that. I’m the one with a secret this time.” She chewed her bottom lip. “I did give away half a billion dollars, but my portion of the estate was a little bit more than that. I may not exactly be a pauper.”

  “Oh? Exactly how much are you not a pauper?”

  She grinned. “I might still have a few million dollars left over.”

  He laughed and swept her into his arms. “At least I’ll know you don’t like me for my money. I’m not exactly hurting these days, in case you hadn’t noticed. Now, if you’re through with all this talking, the rest of this...conversation...requires a bit more privacy.”

  She giggled and looped her arms around his neck again. “Lead the way, bodyguard. Lead the way.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from SAWYER by Delores Fossen.

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  Chapter One

  Agent Sawyer Ryland caught the movement from the corner of his eye, turned and saw the blonde pushing her way through the other guests who’d gathered for the wedding reception.

  She wasn’t hard to spot.

  She was practically running, and she had a bundle gripped in front of her like a shield.

  Oh, mercy.

  Sawyer’s pulse kicked up a notch, and he automatically slid his hand inside his jacket and over his Glock. It was sad that his first response was to pull his firearm even at his own brother’s wedding reception. Still, he’d been an FBI agent long enough—and had been shot too many times—that he lived by the code of better safe than sorry.

  Or better safe than dead.

  The woman didn’t draw only Sawyer’s attention. Nope. His brother, Josh, and their six Ryland cousins were all Silver Creek lawmen, and while Sawyer had his attention pinned on the woman, he was well aware that some of his cousins were reaching for their guns, too.

  She stopped in the center of the barn, which had been decorated with hundreds of clear twinkling lights and flowers, and even though she was wearing dark sunglasses, Sawyer was pretty sure that her gaze rifled around. Obviously looking for someone. However, the looking around skidded to a halt when her attention landed on him.

  “Sawyer,” she said.

  Because of the chattering guests and the fiddler sawing out some bluegrass, Sawyer didn’t actually hear her speak his name. Instead, he saw it shape her trembling mouth. She yanked off the sunglasses, her gaze connecting with his.

  And he cursed. Some really bad words.

  For Pete’s sake. He didn’t need this today. Nor any other day for that matter.

  “Cassidy O’Neal,” he mumbled, and he made it sound like the profanity that he’d just spouted.

  Yeah, it was her, all right. Except she didn’t much look like a pampered princess doll today in her jeans and body-swallowing gray T-shirt. No makeup, either. Maybe he’d missed the memo about Hades freezing over, because Cassidy was not the sort to go without makeup, fine clothes or anything else fine, for that matter.

  Despite the fact that he wasn’t giving off any welcoming vibes whatsoever, Cassidy hurried to him. Her mouth was still trembling. Her dark green eyes rapidly blinking. There were beads of sweat on her forehead and upper lip despite the half dozen or so massive fans circulating air into the barn.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and she thrust whatever she was carrying at him.

  Sawyer didn’t take it and backed up, but not before he caught a glimpse of the tiny hand gripping the white blanket.

  A baby.

  That put his heart right in his suddenly dry throat.

  He’d always been darn good at math. Not now though. Not with the air just sucked right out of his lungs. But he didn’t need to do the math to know that while there was no love lost between Cassidy and him, there had been love.

  Or rather, sex.

  It wasn’t love by any stretch of the imagination.

  Using just his index finger, Sawyer eased back the blanket and saw the curly mop of brown hair on the sleeping baby’s head. A lighter color than his own hair but maybe a mix of Cassidy’s and his. A cherub face that resembled every baby he’d ever seen.

  Including his own cousins’ babies.

  And there were plenty of them around for him to do a split-second comparison.

  “No.” Cassidy shook her head so hard that her ponytail came unhooked and her hair dropped against her shoulders. “The baby’s not mine.”

  Not mine.

  Which meant it wasn’t his, either.

  That gave him a much-needed jolt of breath to stop his head from going light. A light head was hardly the right bargaining tool for a lawman, and even though Sawyer had no idea if what was going on would require any of his lawman skills, he figured he’d at least need to be able to think straight for this.

  Sawyer wasn’t the only one with breathing issues. Cassidy’s was gusting now, and she pushed the bundled baby toward him again. “You have to take her.”

  Again, Sawyer backed up.

  “Is there a problem?” someone growled.

  It was his cousin Mason, a deputy sheriff of Silver Creek and possibly the most unfriendly looking person on earth.

  And he walked up right behind Sawyer.

  When Mason and he were kids, people used to say they looked like twins, and their combined badass presence, gla
res and scowls should have been enough to deter a wedding-crashing heiress from staying put.

  It didn’t.

  “I don’t have much time,” Cassidy insisted. “You have to take her, and I have to get a picture of you holding her.”

  Mason and Sawyer exchanged a glance. They were on the same page in thinking their visitor was a couple of cans short of a six-pack.

  “We have to talk,” Cassidy continued, and she freed her other hand from the baby bundle so she could catch onto Sawyer’s arm. “Please,” she added.

  Sawyer had known Cassidy on and off for over a year now. Mostly off. But he’d never heard her say please. And he’d never seen that look of pure fear in her eyes. He pushed her hand off his arm and instead caught onto her wrist.

  “I’ll be right back,” he told Mason. “Obviously our visitor and I need to have a word.”

  “You know what you’re doing?” Mason asked.

  Nope. But Sawyer figured he was about to find out something he didn’t want to know. Actually, anything that Cassidy had to say to him would fall into that didn’t want to know category even if she hadn’t been carrying a baby in her arms.

  Sawyer led her back through the crowd, weaving in and out of the kids running around and the couples dancing. Nearly every one of his cousins shot him a glance to make sure he was okay, and Sawyer tried not to respond with anything that would cause the party to end. His brother Josh, and his bride, Jaycee, didn’t deserve to have their happy day spoiled.

  There was a storm brewing, and it was just starting to drizzle, so Sawyer didn’t pull Cassidy out into the open. Instead, he took her to a long watering trough that had a tin awning overhead.

  “Let’s start with some questions,” he told Cassidy. “I ask them and you answer them,” he snapped when she opened her mouth to interrupt him.

  Of course she just continued with that interruption. “We don’t have time for a Q and A.”