Julie Miller - The Bodyguard

“I hate him already.”

She felt the first sprinkle of rain on her cheek, and while the initial drop startled her, she soon savored the cool trickles of moisture on her skin. “He had a soccer scholarship to play on the team with my friend, Harper. I’d been pining after Harper for years, but he never saw beyond the glasses. A buddy of mine, Donny Kemp—he was on the quiz bowl team with me—had asked me first, out of the blue—I didn’t really know him, didn’t know he even liked me—so I said I needed time to think about it. I guess I was still holding out for a miracle invitation from Harper.”

“Sheesh, the soap opera of high-school relationships. I don’t miss that.”

She tiptoed her fingers up his vest until she found the warmth of skin above Trip’s collar to cling to. “I’d been tutoring Landon, to help him keep his grades up so he could stay at Sterling instead of going back to a public high school. When he asked me, I thought it was as close to dating Harper as I was going to get so I said yes. And then I found out he’d done it as an initiation rite. One of the kidnappers had given him a hundred dollars to get me to the school, away from Dad and his security.”

“What the hell kind of initiation involves getting you kidnapped?”

Charlotte flinched at the sudden sharpness in Trip’s voice and he immediately released her.

“Sorry.” He skimmed his hand over his face, but she didn’t think he was snarling at the rain wetting his skin. “No wonder you don’t trust men.”

He turned away, muttering a curse, then startled her when he swung back around to face her. “Did Turner pay for his part in the kidnapping? Does he have any reason to come after you again?”

“He didn’t come after me.” Her guardian had returned in full force. How did a man turn his compassion and gentleness on and off so quickly? She hugged her arms around her waist, afraid of her own warring needs to run away or offer a reassuring touch. “Landon’s prank was a cruel one, but he didn’t know about the kidnapping. He testified on my behalf at the trial by identifying the man who’d paid him, and helped get the conviction. He was kicked out of Sterling Academy, and I think lost a couple of college scholarships. But the judge didn’t file any criminal charges. He has no reason to want to hurt me now.”

“Don’t defend him.” Charlotte backed away as Trip advanced, his suspicions overriding his patience with her. “If he didn’t know about the kidnapping, then how did the kidnappers know about the initiation?”

“All the guys at school knew about the initiation dare. If I’d been more of a social creature, I would have heard the gossip, too. One of them must have let it slip somewhere, and the kidnappers paid Landon to make sure it was me he took that night.” Talented though he was with his feet, Landon had never been the brightest bulb at Sterling. “He apologized, over and over. He used to call me …”

Every day. For months.

Charlotte. You have to forgive me. Charlotte? Answer me!

Oh, my God. Had she missed a connection between Landon and her kidnappers? A connection between then and now?

Charlotte’s heart rate kicked up a notch. Her breathing went shallow. She was going back in time. Slipping into the past. Remembering. “I want to go home.”

“Honey, are you—?”

“Don’t ‘honey’ me!” She whirled around, looking for Max. “Stay in the moment. Stay in the moment,” she chanted. “Max?”

“Jones.” Captain Cutler’s voice buzzed into the radio, loud enough for Charlotte to hear the summons. “Is there a problem up there?”

“Charlotte?”

She put her fingers to her mouth and whistled. “Max!”

“She’s on the verge of a panic attack, sir. Call everyone in. We’re coming down.”

Charlotte yelped at the big hand that closed around her arm.

But it wouldn’t let go. “Look at me, Charlotte.” He had her by both arms now, had hunkered down so she could see his face. “Look at me.”

It was Trip. She knew it was Trip. But she was afraid. Afraid of the calls and the memories and the mistakes she couldn’t save herself from. She blinked her eyes into focus. “I need to go home. I want to go home.”

“Okay.” His grip shifted to one arm and he gentled his tone as he towered over her. “I’m sorry I upset you. Stay in the moment, okay? Stay with me.”

“I’m sorry, Trip. I must have pushed myself to be outside a little too long.” She felt twenty-five pounds of furry warmth wedge its way in between them and sit on her foot. Max. Thank goodness. She reached down to stroke his fur, taking the edge off her panic. “Good boy, Max.”

“You have no idea what a fighter you are, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You could summon the troops with that whistle.” Trip pulled the dog’s leash from her coat pocket and hooked him up. He rubbed Max around his neck and ears before pushing the leash into Charlotte’s hand and straightening. “I’m the one who pushed you too hard. I thought Turner might be some kind of break on the case.”

“You were just doing your job.”

“I was being a jealous idiot and I scared you instead of helping.” He held out his hand for her to take. “Let’s get you home so you can make those phone calls about Richard’s memorial, okay?”

She nodded, wrapping both hands around the leash, unsure what to make of his compliment or apology or the whole idea of a man being jealous over her.

Trip’s gaze dropped to her fingers, understanding the unspoken message and accepting it. “And as far as Turner goes?”

“What about him?”

“Innocent or not, he’d better never show his face around me.” Backed up by an ominous rumble of thunder overhead, his vow triggered a riot of inexplicable goose bumps across her skin. If they’d been sparked by her usual anxiety or the possessive promise in his words that tickled something new and uniquely feminine inside her, she couldn’t yet tell. “Come on. Let’s get out of the rain.”

Although she hadn’t taken his hand, he still put his fingers at her back to position her in front of him and lead the way down the hill with Max. He released her to tap on his radio. “We’re heading back to the car. Bring it in, guys.”

“That’s a negative. Stand fast, big guy.” Captain Cutler’s crisp voice buzzed over the radio. Charlotte spotted the reason for the warning appearing from behind a mask of trees and doubling back on one of the cemetery’s hairpin turns. Her eyes widened. Her steps slowed. “We’ve got an unmarked vehicle approaching on your six. White van, local plates.”

“I see it.” Trip’s hand clamped down on her shoulder, stopping her beside a red marble headstone. “Let it pass.”

Charlotte grabbed hold of the red marble, swaying as the van crept up behind the black SUV.

Her brain spun around inside her skull as Charlotte pushed herself up from the pavement. Where were her glasses? What was happening to her? Was she bleeding?

“Sir, it’s slowing down.” A woman’s voice broke through the static in Charlotte’s ears. “All I can see is the driver. One male. Sir, he’s puttin’ on the brakes.”

But Charlotte was slipping back in time.

The screech of tires echoed through her aching head. What was going on? She squinted the blur of white into focus. A van. A white van. She tried to push up to her knees, but her head was so heavy. A yawning black hole opened in the side of the van. “Get up!”

Clarity kicked in a moment too late. There were hands on her, rough hands pinching and grabbing and countering every kick and twist she made. “No! Let go! Don’t take me!”

“Shut up, Charlotte!” She flew through the air and landed in a heap on the dirty, rusty floor. She screamed as a hood came over her head and the van door slammed shut.