Margaret Daley - Christmas Stalking

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UNDERCOVER FOR THE HOLIDAYS

Bodyguard Ellie St. James has one objective: protect her client...without letting her know. Pretending to be Rachel “Winnie” Winfield’s assistant lets Ellie stay close, but there’s an unexpected complication—Colt Winfield. Winnie’s grandson wasn’t in on the plans, and the suspicious marine biologist isn’t easy to fool. When the truth comes out, so do more threats to Winnie’s life. Trapped on a Colorado mountain, Ellie and Colt must trust each other to guard Winnie and find the stalker. Before this Christmas becomes their last.

“What are you hiding, Ellie?”

“What makes you think I’m hiding something?” Ellie busied herself pouring the hot water into a mug.

“I get the feeling there’s something in your past you don’t like to talk about,” Colt murmured.

“I didn’t know full disclosure about all details of my life was necessary for me to get this job. Your grandmother seems satisfied.”

He dipped his head in a curt nod. “Winnie is a great judge of character.”

Meaning he had his doubts?

One of the reasons she liked being a bodyguard was that she could blend into the background. She kept a lock on her past—a past she didn’t want to take out and reexamine.

“If you must know, the short version of my life so far is—”

“That’s okay—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful.”

“What did you mean?”

“To make sure Winnie was in good hands.”

She stared into his light blue eyes. “She’s in good hands. When I do a job, I do it one hundred percent.”

About the Author

MARGARET DALEYfeels she has been blessed. She has been married more than thirty years to her husband, Mike, whom she met in college. He is a terrific support and her best friend. They have one son, Shaun. Margaret has been writing for many years and loves to tell a story. When she was a little girl, she would play with her dolls and make up stories about their lives. Now she writes these stories down. She especially enjoys weaving stories about families and how faith in God can sustain a person when things get tough. When she isn’t writing, she is fortunate to be a teacher for students with special needs. Margaret has taught for more than twenty years and loves working with her students. She has also been a Special Olympics coach and has participated in many sports with her students.

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For if ye forgive men their trespasses,

your heavenly Father will also forgive you.

—Matthew 6:14

To Shaun and Kim, my son and daughter-in-law

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

TEASER CHAPTER

ONE

In the dark, Ellie St. James scanned the mountainous terrain out her bedroom window at her new client’s home in Colorado, checking the shadows for any sign of trouble before she went to sleep. The large two-story house of redwood and glass blended in well with the rugged landscape seven thousand feet above sea level. Any other time she would appreciate the beauty, but she was here to protect Mrs. Rachel Winfield.

A faint sound punched through her musing. She whirled away from the window and snatched her gun off the bedside table a few feet from her. Fitting the weapon into her right palm and finding its weight comforting, she crept toward her door and eased it open to listen. None of the guard dogs were barking. Maybe she’d imagined the noise.

A creak, like a floorboard being stepped on, drifted up the stairs. Someone was ascending to the second floor. She and her employer were the only ones in the main house. She glanced at Mrs. Winfield’s door two down from hers and noticed it was closed. Her client kept it that way only when she was in her bedroom.

So who was on the stairs? Had someone gotten past the dogs outside and the security system? And did that someone not care that he was being heard coming up the steps? Because he didn’t intend to leave any witnesses?

The latest threat against Mrs. Winfield urged her into action. She slipped out of her room and into the shadows of the long hallway that led to the staircase. Having memorized all the floorboards that squeaked, Ellie avoided the left side of the corridor as she snuck forward—past Mrs. Winfield’s door.

Another sound echoed through the hall. Whoever was on the steps was at the top. She increased her speed, probing every dark recess around her for any other persons. Near the wooden railing of the balcony that overlooked the front entrance, she found the light switch, planted her bare feet a foot apart, preparing herself to confront the intruder, and then flipped on the hall light.

Even though she expected the bright illumination, her eyes needed a few seconds to adjust to it. The large man before her lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the glare. Which gave Ellie the advantage.

“Don’t move,” she said in her toughest voice, a husky resonance she often used to her advantage.

The stranger dropped his hand to his side, his gray-blue eyes drilling into her then fixing on her Wilson combat aimed at his chest. Anger washed all surprise from his expression. “Who are you?” The question came out in a deep, booming voice, all the fury in his features reflected in it.

“You don’t get to ask the questions. Who are—”

The click of the door opening to Mrs. Winfield’s bedroom slightly behind and to the left of Ellie halted her words as she shifted her attention for an instant to make sure the man didn’t have an accomplice already with her client.

“Winnie, get back,” the intruder yelled.

By the time Ellie’s gaze reconnected with the man, he was charging toward her. She had less than a second to decide what to do. The use of her client’s nickname caused Ellie to hesitate. In that moment the stranger barreled into her, slamming her into the hardwood floor. The impact jolted her, knocking the Wilson Combat from her hand. The thud of her weapon hitting the floor behind her barely registered as she lay pinned beneath two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Pressed into her, the man robbed her of a decent breath.

Her training flooded her with extra adrenaline. Before he could capture her arms, she brought them up and struck him on the sides of his head. His light-colored gaze widened at the blow. She latched onto his face, going for his eyes with her thumbs.

“Miss St. James, stop!” Mrs. Winfield’s high-pitched voice cut into the battle between Ellie and her attacker.