Lisa Childs - In The Bodyguard's Arms

Even with it burning along with the glow shining through the blinds of the cabin’s windows, the shadows were thick. No stars even shone in the sky—not that he could see much of the sky through the thick branches of all of the trees.

Some of those branches moved. And leaves and grass rustled. No breeze stirred. The air was cold and damp and stagnant. It wasn’t the wind blowing those branches around; it was something. Or someone.

He opened his mouth to call out, but again, he wasn’t certain what the situation was. Had Teddie’s stalker found her? Or was Teddie even here?

He couldn’t be sure she had been staying here any longer. Maybe she had a second set of keys for the Jeep. Or maybe the Jeep wasn’t even hers.

He couldn’t imagine a supermodel driving a Jeep or staying in that rustic little cabin, either. She had to be a millionaire, at least. For years she had modeled every swimsuit and lingerie brand on the market. He’d even had a poster of her that he’d brought with him to boot camp.

How the hell hadn’t he recognized her name?

The guys must have been laughing their asses off at him being so clueless about who she was. And when he’d insisted on taking the assignment, he could just imagine their reactions.

He could not imagine what might be out in those woods, in the dark. Maybe that hadn’t even been a human scream. Maybe it had been some animal.

Because he didn’t know the reason for the scream, he held his silence, which any of his friends would have said was unusual for him. Except on missions.

On missions and about missions, he knew to stay quiet. Just like they had all stayed quiet when he had mistaken Teddie for a man. Cooper—of all of them—should have at least given him a heads-up. He was the boss now.

But then, he guessed Cooper had kind of tried. Manny hadn’t given him much of an opportunity. He’d been so insistent on taking this case, on staying away from all damsels in distress.

If that scream had come from Teddie, she was definitely in distress. But where the hell was she?

The voice, or whatever it was, had sounded so close. He walked in circles around the cabin, swinging the beam on his gun in ever-widening circles. The beam glanced off tree trunks and brush. The cabin had no yard, just a thinner version of the woods that surrounded the property.

If she was still staying here, what the hell had she been doing outside this late? She’d put herself in danger, not just from her stalker but also from whatever wild animals lived in the area. Bears? Wolves? Mountain lions? He had no idea what could be out there. If any of those things were, he didn’t blame her for screaming.

He opened his mouth to call out to her, but then his beam glanced off something on the ground. He moved the flashlight back so the beam took the same path. The shadow was crumpled between two trees, lying lifelessly.

Was it a person? Or a pile of brush?

He stepped closer, and the beam illuminated clothing. The fabric was a shiny blue material, like some kind of workout apparel. He hurried forward now as he noticed the curls, the profusion of bright red ones spilled over the clothing and onto the ground.

Twigs and dirt were matted in her hair. What the hell had happened to her?

“Teddie?” Her name escaped his lips on a rasp of concern. He had to know if she was all right. He leaned over her, but she was facedown on the ground.

He could see only her clothes and her tangled hair. Could he even be certain it was her? He remembered the hair—not just from the desecrated photos he’d found in the cabin, but from memories of all the images he’d seen of her. That he’d had of her.

If she knew, she’d probably think he was a stalker, too. But he never would have desecrated those photos. He never would have written such horrific threats.

Only someone truly sick could have written such things. As he crouched down closer to her, he swept his flashlight and barrel around the woods near them.

Was that creep out there? Waiting to strike again?

Manny was tempted to squeeze the trigger, to fire a few shots and hope he hit the son of a bitch. But none of the trees or brush moved or rustled now.

Whatever had been out there was gone.

Was Teddie gone, too?

He reached out and closed his free hand over her shoulder. She was slender but there was muscle beneath his fingertips, too. That was what had always been so damn sexy about her. She had never looked like she starved herself like so many other models did. She was curvy but fit.

Beautiful but natural.

She’d had no breast implants or lip augmentation. Everything about her had been real. She was the girl next door if the girl next door was drop-dead gorgeous.

Dead...

Damn, he hoped she wasn’t—for so many reasons, the primary one being that he would have failed his first solo assignment before it even began.

He drew in a deep breath, bracing himself, before he rolled her toward him. Her hair was tangled across her face, but he could still see the heart shape of her face, the pointy chin and wide cheekbones.

Her eyes—which he remembered being a clear and crisp green—were closed. Some of her hair was tangled in her thick lashes. And dirt was smeared across her forehead and along one cheek.

His breath escaped as he uttered a ragged sigh. At the very least she was unconscious. At the worst, dead. He reached now for her neck to check for a pulse, and his hand shook slightly as he pushed aside her hair.

Her skin was silky and damp and cold beneath his fingertips. Was she...?

He moved his fingers again and finally felt it, the leap of her pulse. She was alive, her pulse pounding madly beneath his fingertips.

He expelled another breath—of relief. “Thank God...”

When he glanced down, he found her eyes open and staring up at him. Her green eyes—so vivid even in the faint glow of the flashlight beam—were wide with fear.

Of course, he was holding a gun on her. She had every reason to be afraid, especially since she must have just been attacked.

“Don’t be scared,” he told her.

“I’m not,” she said, her voice sharp as the fear turned to anger.

Before he could say anything more, he started choking and sputtering as she sprayed a canister right in his face. He couldn’t breathe, and his eyes and face burned.

His vision blurred, so it was hard to focus. But as he turned away from her, he caught a sign of movement again—in the trees and the brush as twigs snapped and the leaves rustled. Whoever had attacked her wasn’t gone. He’d only been watching, probably for his opportunity to attack again.

Manny had thought he’d failed her once. Now he might fail her again, but this time it was her damn fault for blinding him.

Chapter 3

Teddie choked and sputtered as the pepper spray wafted back into her face. Her eyes and nose stung painfully while her skin burned. She’d had no choice but to spray him.

The man had a gun, one he had been pointing right at her. This must have been the man from the cabin. He was bigger than the one who’d caught her in the dark, pulling her hair to stop her from running.

That man hadn’t stopped her from fighting. She’d kicked and clawed and screamed. But he hadn’t relented until this man had run from the cabin—or vaulted from it. Then the first man had released her and run off into the woods. Would he have done that if the two men were working together?

She didn’t know whom to trust, especially when she’d trusted so many of the wrong people in the past. That was why she’d dropped out of the public eye—because she’d had no idea which eyes belonged to her stalker.

Still on the ground, she scrambled away from the big man with the gun. Her eyes streaming, she crawled like a crab toward the cabin. The door onto the back porch stood open. She could grab the keys to the Jeep. She could drive away—if she could see.