Donna Young - A Bodyguard for Christmas

“Are you finished?” Jordan’s back teeth slammed together, forcing his jaw muscles into overdrive.

“Really?” Ian rocked back on his heels and grinned, thoroughly enjoying his friend’s discomfort, Regina noted.

“It beats your current living situation,” Jordan remarked. “Or did you forget your place is now nothing more than a pile of charred books?”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Regina’s chin went up, daring him to take another swipe. “Nor have I forgotten you saved my life. But that doesn’t give you the right to belittle it now.”

“Until I’m sure who is after you, you’re staying with me,” Jordan ordered.

“If Miss Menlow needs a place to stay, we have a guest room,” Ian offered, swallowing a laugh. “I can keep her safe here.”

“It’s not funny,” Jordan bit out.

Regina turned to Ian. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary—”

Jordan cut her off. “She’ll stay with me.”

Regina tried again. “Of course, I appreciate the offer but—”

“I’m not going to place your family in harm’s way, Ian.”

Regina placed her hands on her hips. “I can talk for myself, Jordan.”

He snorted. “What do you think is going to happen when your friend finds out the book he grabbed isn’t my father’s journal?”

“I know he’ll try to find me. I’m not stupid. In fact, I graduated top in my class at Princeton.”

“In what?” Ian asked, curious.

“Not covert operations,” Jordan answered, deliberately provoking her. “She has a master’s in English literature. But she never finished her doctorate.”

Regina gasped, enraged. “How do you know?” She narrowed her eyes. “You have a file on me, don’t you?”

“I suspected you of murdering my father, or at least sleeping with him. Of course, I’m going to have a file on you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she snapped, hating how he turned an endearment into a derogatory pet name.

“Scarface won’t take a chance that the book was not destroyed in the fire.”

“Scarface?” Ian asked, trying to keep up.

Both Regina and Jordan said, “Later,” in unison.

“I know they’re out there now,” she told Jordan. “I won’t be so easy to find.”

“Have you ever gone into hiding before?” Ian asked. He thought about stepping between the couple, until he caught Jordan’s glare. Ian decided he liked his teeth more.

“Of course not.” She dismissed the thought with a frown. “But I’ve read books on the subject. Many written by retired military or government officials. Some even by people who have managed to create new identities.”

Ian’s mouth twitched. “You’ve read books.”

“Seems Miss Menlow gets all her life experiences through books,” Jordan drawled. “Well, almost all.”

A flush crept over her cheeks. “You don’t have to be rude.”

“I’m only beginning, sweetheart. ”

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