Carol J. Post - Bodyguard For Christmas

Colton squeezed his son more tightly. He’d get a tree trimmer out pronto. That same branch had probably given them a way into the property.

As he turned, a dark shape snagged his gaze. It lay several yards from the oak’s trunk, partially obscured by the shrubbery lining the back wall. Brutus. He pressed his lips together. As soon as he found Meagan, he’d check on his dog.

When he looked at Jasmine again, she was already punching numbers into her phone. “I’m calling 911.”

“Thanks.” He’d let her handle it. He ran back to the house. Next to the door, jagged glass surrounded a large hole in the dining room window. He’d check out the security footage later. Or the cops would. He had a camera in back and one in front.

Once inside, he ran room to room, still holding his son while he shouted Meagan’s name. An image rose in his mind—features twisted, hatred shining from eyes so dark they were almost black. One defendant whose threats had sent a chill all the way to his core.

Colton had gotten the man a life sentence. Death would have been better. Drug dealer, gang leader and ruthless killer—men like that didn’t rehabilitate. Before being led from the courtroom in shackles, he’d turned to Colton and made his threat, cold fury flowing beneath the surface. You didn’t get a death sentence for me, but you just secured your own.

Maybe Perez had sent someone for him, and taking Liam was his way of drawing Colton out. Or maybe it was someone else, determined to exact the worst kind of vengeance.

When he started down the hall, a cell phone lay on the floor. Meagan’s phone. His chest clenched. Eighteen years old, her whole life ahead of her.

Oh, God, please let her be safe.

As he stepped into his son’s room, Liam stiffened and let out a wail. Colton cupped the back of his head. “It’s okay, buddy.”

He looked around the room. Drawers hung open, their contents tossed to the floor. Nearby, a Lego village sat in a state of incompletion. Maybe this was where Liam had been playing when the man grabbed him.

Jasmine stepped up behind him. “Cops are on the way. I checked on your dog. He’s unconscious, but his breathing is steady. What happened?”

“Someone just tried to kidnap my son. My house is ransacked and my babysitter’s missing.” He spun to walk from the room.

She stepped out of his way. “Maybe she escaped when the men broke in.”

“And left Liam inside? Not Meagan.”

“Or she could have slipped out to call the police.”

He walked into the bathroom across the hall. “They’d have been here long before now.” The destruction they were looking at didn’t happen in minutes. “She’s here somewhere. She’d never abandon Liam to save—”

Colton cut off his own thought. Had he just heard a thud? His gaze snapped to his neighbor. She’d obviously heard it, too.

He jogged down the hall toward the master bedroom. When he called Meagan’s name again, the thuds grew louder, more insistent. As he entered the room, there was another thud, and the door on the large walk-in closet jumped. He shifted Liam to one hip and swung it back on the hinges.

Meagan lay curled on the floor, hands tied behind her back, ankles bound. Tape covered her mouth. An angry bruise was already forming on her left cheek. When her fear-filled eyes met his, they welled with tears.

Colton tried to pry his son loose, but Liam released a wail that built into a scream of pure terror.

“Here, let me.” Jasmine pushed Colton aside and dropped to her knees. “This is going to hurt.”

When she ripped the tape from the girl’s face, Meagan winced. “I tried to protect him.” The tears flowed in earnest now.

“He’s fine.” Jasmine looked at Colton. “Get me something to cut the rope.”

He pulled a pocketknife from the drawer in his bedside stand. Jasmine had stepped in and taken charge. With a terrified child and a babysitter on the verge of hysteria, he was thankful for the help.

“Why did you come?”

“You.” Without looking up, she continued sawing through the ropes binding Meagan’s ankles. “When Cade was leaving, you started acting weird, like you were worried about something. I figured I’d stay outside and watch you.”

Colton shook his head. He’d just met the woman. How could she identify weird when she had nothing to base normal on? Had to be women’s intuition. After seven years of marriage, he still didn’t understand it.

“When you left your front door wide-open, I knew something was up.” The last rope gave way. Jasmine helped a sobbing Meagan to her feet and led her to the bed. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Colton sat next to his babysitter, Liam in his lap. “What happened?”

“Liam and I were sitting on the floor playing with his Legos when I heard glass shatter.” She drew in a shuddering breath, struggling to pull herself together. “I jumped up to get my phone. I’d left it on the coffee table in the living room.”

She swiped at her tears. “I got halfway back to the bedroom when someone tackled me from behind. He was straddling me, flipped me over and punched me in the head. Everything went black. I just woke up a few minutes ago.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Today’s events would likely trigger some terrifying nightmares.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Do you know who attacked you?”

“He was wearing a ski mask.” The tears started anew. “All I could think about was Liam.” She stroked his back. “Is he all right?”

“Just frightened.”

Colton had no idea what his son had witnessed and probably wouldn’t anytime soon. Liam had stopped speaking shortly after his mother died.

“Uh, Colton?”

Something in Jasmine’s tone sent fingers of dread crawling down his spine. He followed her gaze toward the door.

His mahogany dresser occupied a sizable section of the wall to the right of it, the massive mirror framed by curved shelves on either side. Letters were scrawled across the glass in his dead wife’s lipstick.

His foundation shifted, and the room seemed to tilt sideways as the message dived deep into his heart.

“The sins of the fathers...”

From the time he was adopted at age fifteen, he’d attended church. He knew his Bible. The next words went something like “...are visited on the children to the third and fourth generation.” Whoever wrote the phrase was taking the verse out of context, but the intended meaning was clear.

Colton tightened his hold on Liam and buried his face in the boy’s hair, soft and silky like his mother’s had been. Determination surged through him. No one was going to get to his son ever again. He’d see to it.

Sirens wailed outside, growing in volume. Soon the police would be there. He’d give his report. And he’d insist that Meagan go to the hospital.

Then he’d find a bodyguard. Someone big and tough and mean.

The fence encircling the yard, with its electronic gate, the rottweiler prowling the property, the alarm when they were asleep. It wasn’t enough. What had previously been empty threats had just taken on flesh and blood.

He’d do whatever he must to ensure Liam’s safety. Even if it meant paying for around-the-clock protection.

Or leaving Atlanta and starting over somewhere else. Maybe both.

Yes, definitely both.

Jasmine strode down the hall of Burch Security Specialists, her gait heavier than normal. She still had another week blocked off, which would have given her enough time to finish the interior painting before the scheduled carpet installation began. So much for plans. Less than an hour ago, she’d gotten a call from her boss and former commander—she needed to show up pronto for a new assignment.