Lisa Childs - In The Bodyguard's Arms

Of course, if Manny had had this much trouble finding Ted, the stalker probably had, as well. It wasn’t like Ted would have given that person his property address.

What the hell was Ted that he had a stalker? Manny remembered now that the reception had told Cooper that Teddie Plummer needed a bodyguard. He’d been the one who’d shortened it to Ted. Teddie Plummer sounded like an accountant. Maybe for the IRS? And someone he’d audited wanted revenge?

No. A tax accountant probably wouldn’t call himself Teddie. He would be a Theodore. No. Teddie sounded like...

Like what?

Manny felt a prickle of unease, and it wasn’t just because he’d found the cabin empty when he’d shown up. And it was getting dark...

After opening the unlocked door, he’d flipped on a light. But nobody had fallen asleep on the couch. Or in the bed in the loft. In fact, the bed with the drawers beneath it was so neatly made with a plaid comforter and navy sheets that it looked as if it hadn’t been slept in. Maybe he hadn’t found the right place after all.

The cabin looked spotless, not a plate or glass sitting out on the wooden counter or lying in the black hammered farmhouse sink. The only things lying around were books. Could Teddie be a professor? Was a student stalking him, wanting revenge over a bad grade or something?

But when Manny picked up one of the books, a paper fell out. It looked like notes a student would make, not the professor. And the handwriting was very neat with a feminine flourish to the letters that increased Manny’s uneasy feeling. Was it just that Teddie had another person’s book, another person’s notes?

Or was there something else going on?

Manny shouldn’t have been so quick to leave the conference room. He should have let Cooper brief him on the situation with Teddie Plummer, so Manny could have found out who the hell Teddie was.

Because that name sounded vaguely familiar to him now.

So familiar that Manny had a bad feeling not just that something had happened to Teddie Plummer but that something was about to happen to him.

* * *

Something bad was about to happen. Teddie knew it. Even though she was close—so close that she could see the light burning inside her cabin—she wasn’t going to reach it in time. She wasn’t sure that it would be any safer in there, anyway, as a shadow passed behind the blinds. A hulking shadow. Whoever had broken into her place was big, so big she doubted she would be able to fight him off.

She couldn’t turn around, either. Someone was behind her. She was certain of it. Too many twigs kept snapping while brush rustled. Someone or something was behind her. So she had to keep running forward, not to the cabin but beyond it to the big shed where she’d hidden her Jeep.

But the keys were inside the house, hanging on a hook by the back door she was certain she’d locked. How had the intruder broken in? And if he was inside, who was chasing her?

Had she had two stalkers this entire time? No wonder it seemed as though she’d never been able to get away from him. That he always found her wherever she was.

Despite the sweat dampening her clothes, she shivered as her blood chilled. She couldn’t fight off two of them. And she might not be able to outrun them, either.

Without the keys, she wouldn’t be able to start the Wrangler and use it to escape. And she wasn’t certain how much longer she could run. The numbness had left her muscles to leave a burning pain. She felt like her ligaments were on fire and about to tear.

But she couldn’t stop. Now she didn’t hear just the snap of the twigs or the rustle of the brush. She heard footsteps—pounding against the ground. Whoever was behind her was gaining on her.

And she was so close to the cabin where that shadow lurked behind the blinds. She was trapped with no hope of escaping. Would this be how it ended?

If only she had hired the Payne Protection Agency sooner...

Then she wouldn’t be alone facing the greatest danger of her life. The bodyguard would already be with her instead of somewhere en route. But Teddie wasn’t entirely helpless. While she didn’t have the gun that her mother had offered to lend her, she always carried a canister of pepper spray with her.

She had thought she would be safe from the stalker here in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Out of habit, though, she’d clipped the canister on her belt before she’d left for her hike to protect herself from a bear.

She really hoped that was what was following her.

But she heard no growl, just the deep pant of labored breathing as the distance closed between her predator and his prey. Before she could unclip the canister from her belt, a hand caught her hair, jerking her head back.

She whirled around to face the monster.

* * *

Manny had searched the cabin again, which didn’t take long since the structure was small. The kitchen consisted of a short refrigerator, a two-burner stove, that farmhouse sink and a couple of cupboards. The bathroom was nearly as tiny—a stand-up shower squeezed in the corner between a pedestal sink and a toilet. The bedroom was the loft. The biggest room was the open living area. There was an overstuffed couch, an old trunk for a coffee table, and a small secretary-type desk in front of the windows with the closed blinds.

He’d pulled open the drawers beneath that bed and what he’d found had confirmed his fears. He walked back to the desk and that paper with the notes. The handwriting was definitely feminine.

He noticed a folder sticking out from beneath one of the textbooks. When he opened the folder, his breath caught with a gasp.

There weren’t notes in the folder, at least not notes taken from a textbook. These notes were scrawled in black marker across cut-up photos. They were threats.

I’m going to mess up your beautiful face...

And he had. The face in the photo had been scraped off, leaving only the body clad in a camisole. Even without the face, Manny recognized the body.

It was everywhere. She was everywhere. Or at least, she had been until the past few months. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time. For a model, her career had been long, probably spanning nearly a decade and a half. But since she’d started modeling young, she wasn’t that old—not old enough to really retire. Now he knew why she’d dropped out of the spotlight. Because of this...

The threats.

There were more photos. Most were missing her face. The rest had other body parts cut out. The notes contained so much hate. So much madness.

He shuddered at the venom, and his skin chilled with fear for her. With dread.

Where the hell was she?

Where was Teddie Plummer?

When he’d searched the cabin again, he’d found a key ring hanging by the unlocked door. Unless she had another set, she probably hadn’t driven away. But where was the Jeep?

With another shudder, he dropped that folder back onto the desk. Then he headed toward the back door. He was just reaching for the handle when he heard it, the bloodcurdling scream of terror.

Pulling his gun from his holster, he threw open the door and rushed outside into the all-encompassing blackness. Born and raised in cities, he’d only been anywhere this dark while on missions. Usually street lamps illuminated his way. But now he couldn’t see where he was going. So he tripped on the steps leading off the deck.

His breath escaped in an oath as he struck the ground, hard. Twigs and roots tore at his clothes. It was so damn dark. He had a light on his gun. But if he flipped it on, he would lose the element of surprise. Whoever was out there—whoever had caused that scream—would see him coming.

But he wouldn’t be able to find Teddie without the light. So he regained his feet and flipped on the switch, sweeping the flashlight beam and the barrel of the gun around the woods surrounding the cabin.