Saving Sophie: Book Seven In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series

by Cate Beauman

  Murphy stirred, waging his tail twice, then closed his eyes and fell back to sleep at Sophie’s side.

  Stone moved further into the room as she slept deeply, lying on her stomach. Sighing, he crouched down, staring at her beautiful face in the faint wash of moonlight filtering through the big windows. He glanced at her arm resting above the covers and slid his knuckles along her skin where the huge bump had once been. She was safe here; he planned to keep her that way. The deal was marriage for a year, but as he touched her and breathed in the familiar scent of Sophie, he knew he would easily sign on for five or even ten—whatever it took to make everything okay. He wanted to wake her and make her promise to stay, but she was exhausted. Tomorrow would have to be soon enough.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eric sat parked among the piece-of-crap cars in the lot outside the mystery woman’s building, being blinded by the midmorning sun. Huffing out a breath, he shoved down his visor with a nasty swat, growing more impatient as thirty minutes turned into forty-five.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d sat here since his Wednesday night drive through the cemetery. He’d been back on several occasions, never catching sight of her again after her visit to Christina’s grave. He glanced at the time on the dashboard, muttering a swear. For almost a week he’d been racking his brain, trying to figure out where he’d seen her before. The license plate number on the rust bucket vehicle she’d driven was registered to some jock’s parents down in New Hampshire, which didn’t help him worth a damn, so he’d been reduced to this—spending his precious free time stalking dirty parking lots in hopes of catching another glimpse of the willowy stranger—with no luck. Hopefully today would be the day. He glanced at the date on his Rolex, shaking his head. Today needed to be the day. Sophie’s birthday was right around the corner. He had less than two weeks to find her before he lost out on five million dollars.

  Once he brought Sophie back to Bangor—and he would bring her back—they would have no choice but to seek out a Justice of the Peace to officiate their marriage. There would be little time to put together another large event. Gritting his teeth, he thought of the country club and his missed opportunity to be the first to marry there. He was the pillar of this community. Someone of his standing should have received the press time, not Hodge Mosses and his lard-butt daughter with her low-class wedding last weekend. He deserved the best; he expected it, and Sophie had ruined everything.

  He glanced at his watch again, growing angrier. He was late for a meeting at the gallery—the third time this week. And it was all her fault. Sophie caused him constant problems. She wasn’t even here, and she was making his life a misery, as she had for the last two years. Now if the floozy inside would step out…

  He came to attention when she appeared in the doorway, struggling to roll her bike down the stairs. “Yes.” It was about time. Blowing out an impatient breath, he waited for her to pedal her way to the main road before he started his Mercedes and followed. He pulled off twice, once at the diner and again at the gas station, giving her plenty of space. Then she turned into the mall parking lot and he remembered—the little bimbo who sold fancy hair ties, wigs, and other crap next to Sophie’s booth. She was the nosy woman who stood around Sophie’s kiosk, giving him nasty looks.

  What was the name of her business? He got out and went inside, smiling and waving to folks as he rushed ahead, stopping several feet from her booth by the cookie counter. Hair Wonder. He turned, grabbing his cellphone, pressing David’s number as he made his way back toward the exit. Having his PI in New York was really damn inconvenient, but David was the best—or he used to be.

  “Hello.”

  “I think I’ve got something. I want everything you can find on the owner of Hair Wonder at the Bangor Mall.”

  “I take it that’s the woman you saw putting flowers on Christina’s grave.”

  “Of course it is. I want something within the hour, David. You get me something, because I’m just about out of time.”

  “I’m aware of your timeframe. I’ll call you back soon.”

  “Fine. Bye.” He pushed open the glass door as Tammy Stuben came through, smiling, her children at her side.

  “Thank you, Eric.”

  He plastered on his best smile for his hygienist. “You’re welcome.” He winked at her brats. He hated kids—messy, dirty little things.

  “How are you doing?”

  He let his smile fade, knowing the busybody was asking about his personal life. “Okay.”

  “Any luck finding Sophie?”

  He shook his head mournfully. “I keep hoping she’ll come back. I want to work things out.”

  “Of course you do, honey, but you remember there are plenty of fish in the sea. Plenty who will treat you right.”

  But the other fish didn’t come with a five-million-dollar trust. And he didn’t owe the others what he owed Sophie. “Thanks, Tammy.”

  “All right. You take care.”

  “You too.” He hurried back to his car, getting in and speeding off toward the gallery. The members of the art council were going to be unhappy, but they would have to deal with it. He was a busy man. Marlene was just going to have to make excuses and actually earn the wage he paid her. Important people were often pressed for time, and he was very important. He pulled into the gallery parking lot ten minutes later, stepping out of his car as Marlene pushed through the doorway.

  “Eric, where have you been? You’re over an hour late.”

  He tried his hardest to give her his best apologetic look when really he wanted to tell her to pack up her desk and get the hell out. How dare she speak to him in that terse tone? She was his subordinate. It wasn’t her job to question, only to do as he said. He reined in his temper, remembering how important it was to keep the people of Bangor on his side. If one of them spotted Sophie they might be more apt to tell him. “I know. I couldn’t—I couldn’t get out of bed. I stayed up all night thinking of Sophie. I can’t get her off my mind. I wish she would at least call. I just want to hear her voice and know she’s okay.”

  Marlene’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Eric.” She rested her hand on his arm. “I know this is hard on you. Every day will get a little better. I bought the board breakfast. Sam rushed an order over from the diner.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s get you into work.” She wrapped her arm around his waist as they started toward the door. “It’ll help settle your mind.”

  He nodded. “I think you’re right.” His phone rang and he paused. “I have to take this.”

  “But the board—”

  “I have to take this.” He shoved her supportive arm away.

  Surprise filled Marlene’s eyes, and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m still a little raw.”

  “I’ll get everyone another cup of coffee.”

  He nodded and turned, no longer concerned with anything but this call. “What do you have?”

  “I’ll have more shortly, but I’m off to an interesting start right here in her DMV records. Dylan Matthers, owner of Hair Wonder, filed for a new drivers license several weeks ago. She traveled extensively right around the same time. In fact, she left on an Amtrack from Brunswick to Boston the same night Sophie vanished. From there she went to Chicago. And just last night she bought a bus ticket from Los Angeles to Boise, Idaho.”

  “Interesting how she’s in two places at once.”

  “Very. I’ll call you back when I know more.”

  Eric grinned. “I want more within the hour.”

  “I’ll call you back when I’ve got it.”

  Eric walked toward his building, chuckling. “Stupid, stupid Sophie. Your game’s about to end.”

  ~~~~

  Sophie opened her eyes to the bright sunshine and turned her head, smiling at Murphy snoring by her side. She looked around the pretty room Stone had painted dark ecru and at the plywood floor that would soon be transformed with glossy hardwood and the custom-made closet doors leaning against t
he wall. With the right furnishings he was going to have a beautiful bedroom. She sighed, wondering if she would still be here when he finished it.

  Sitting up, she listened to the rush of waves through the big windows, no less confused than she had been hours ago. If she agreed to marry Stone, she could wake up in this house for the next year, but what about after? By then the house would be completed and she would be more in love…with the cottage. Growing more attached and eventually leaving would break her heart, but staying would keep her safe. She sighed again, brushing her hand through her hair, still unsure of what to do. She’d planned to have a solid decision by sunrise, but somehow she’d fallen dead asleep despite the turmoil of the evening.

  She glanced at Murphy as she gently pulled back her covers, leaving her puppy to his dreams, and walked down the hall, spotting Stone sitting on the couch in gray athletic shorts and no top, staring at his laptop. “Stone?”

  He looked up, his eyes exhausted and his chin darker with the day’s growth of beard. “Hey.”

  “What are you doing?”

  He slid a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Thinking, I guess.”

  He looked awful. She sat down next to him, relieved that despite everything that happened last night, there didn’t appear to be any awkwardness between them. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  She glanced at his laptop screen, realizing he was looking at the pictures Dylan had taken. “Where did you—I didn’t know you had that.”

  He didn’t answer as she looked from the dark, nasty bruises covering the right side of her ribcage to the raw welts Eric had left along her back with the belt he’d chased her around with one horrifying night. She closed her eyes and her pulse accelerated with the memories of violence and pain.

  “You went through hell,” he said quietly, his voice rough with his lack of sleep.

  She opened her eyes, meeting his. “Yes. I guess I did.”

  “There are months and months of pictures here, Soph.”

  “About six. It went on longer, but that’s about when I met Dylan and she insisted we start documenting.” She took a deep breath, needing to give Stone more of her story. “He started hitting me the day after my mother’s funeral. I wanted to go to the cemetery and sit by her grave. I desperately needed to feel close to her, but he said I couldn’t. I told him I was going, and he grabbed me by the hair. He hollered about disrespect and how he made the rules, then he pushed me backwards down the stairs.”

  Stone swore as she traced the stripes on her shorts, ashamed she’d let Eric do that to her. “It got worse from that point forward. He would apologize at first, then he stopped. We both knew he wasn’t sorry.” She shook her head. “I should’ve left. I wanted to, but I was too afraid.”

  “What tipped the scales?”

  “I’d been thinking about it for a long time, especially as the wedding date came closer, but then he killed Cooper.” She darted him a shamed glance.

  “Who’s Cooper?”

  “My mother’s dog. I loved him so much. He was all I had left of her. I brought him home the day before I left for college. I didn’t want her to be lonely.” She swallowed, shaking her head. “He tried to protect me the night Eric used a bat.” She pointed to the pictures of the massive goose eggs on the tops of her forearms. “Cooper bit him in the leg when I screamed, and Eric hit him across the head.” She clenched her fists, remembering the moment before Cooper’s whimpers quieted, and he closed his eyes for the last time. “It—it still breaks my heart.” She sniffled. “I didn’t protect him. I should have, but I didn’t.”

  “Soph—”

  She shook her head, knowing Stone was about to make excuses for her. “I was too weak.” He opened his mouth to speak, so she rushed on. “After that I had no doubt I was next. It was only a matter of time. He wants my money, but he likes to hurt me more. He gets so angry and out of control.” She frowned. “But he’s in control all at the same time.” How could she put into words his cold calculation? “He never hit me on my face or anywhere people would see. His image is very important to him.”

  “Never again.” Stone set down the laptop and moved closer to her side, gently cupping her cheeks in his palms, staring into her eyes. “He will never touch you again. I’m promising you that.”

  She rested her hands on the tops of his, believing him, treasuring the warrior’s light in his determined brown eyes and the safety she felt.

  “I’m so damn sorry you went through all that.” He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Soph.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezed his fingers.

  Murphy ran down the hall from the bedroom, his tail wagging and tongue hanging out of his mouth.

  Sophie eased away from Stone, looking down at the sweet puppy. “Good morning, sleepy boy. I see you’ve decided to get up.”

  His tail moved faster.

  “Would you like to go outside?”

  He barked.

  “He’s so smart. He knows exactly what I’m saying.”

  “You think so?”

  She looked at Stone, relieved that he was smiling. “I do.” She smiled back and returned her attention to Murphy. “Come on.”

  Murphy followed her to the door.

  She let him out. “I’ll be out to clean up after you in a minute.” She turned back as Stone yawned. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “Not much.”

  “Let me get you a cup of coffee.”

  “I don’t need you to get me a cup of coffee.”

  “I want to.” She moved to the kitchen, wincing at the wilted salads still out and spoiled meat sitting on the stovetop, then prepared the hot brew the way she knew Stone liked it. Moments later she started back to the couch. “Here you go.” She handed off the steaming mug.

  “Thanks.” He sipped and hummed his gratitude. “Why doesn’t it taste like this when I make it?”

  She smiled, always delighted by his appreciation for the little things. “I don’t know. You pop in the pod and the machine takes care of the rest.”

  “No. It’s different—a hell of a lot better.”

  “Magic touch, I guess.”

  “I guess so.” He sipped again. “So, did you have a chance to think about what we talked about last night?”

  She glanced at the pictures of the bruises marring her skin, then at Stone, so handsome and strong. He didn’t love her, and she wasn’t exactly sure what she felt for the man sitting at her side, but he was kind and safe, and he could help her. He wanted to help her. She’d hoped to marry someday, to find a partner who would share a lifetime with her despite her great-grandmother’s trust. The current scenario was far from ideal, but taking him up on his proposal gave her the opportunity to iron out several of her problems. “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “I’ll—I’ll marry you if the offer’s still on the table.”

  “You got it.” He set down his mug.

  She leaned forward, placing his cup on one of the pretty coasters she bought.

  “You know once we file our license he’s going to come.”

  You belong to me. You’ll die before I let you get away. She swallowed sheer terror and nodded, remembering Stone’s vow that Eric would never touch her again. “Are you sure—are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I’m sure I want to help you.”

  “If you decide you’ve changed your mind at any point, we’ll annul our arrangement immediately.”

  “I won’t.”

  “But if you do—”

  “I won’t, Soph.”

  “Okay.”

  “Give me a couple hours to work a few things out with Ethan and we’ll find an attorney to draw up a prenup.”

  Stone was willing to give up so much for her. He was more than entitled to fifty percent of her trust. “I don’t need an attorney.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  She shook her head. “This house is yours. Everything on this property belongs
to you. And I don’t need that much money.”

  “I don’t want your money, Sophie.”

  “And I don’t want an attorney.”

  He nodded. “I’ll talk to Ethan and we’ll go down to the courthouse.”

  “Okay.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Stone sat next to Sophie in the uncomfortable courthouse chairs while they waited for their turn in front of the judge. The morning had been a whirlwind of phone calls and e-mails while Ethan worked his magic, pulling strings so he and Sophie could apply for their marriage license, get married, and have a copy of the certificate in hand for her new social security card today. Eventually she would need a California driver’s license, but that could wait. The next couple of hours would officially start the ball rolling to get Eric Winthrop the hell out of her life.

  Thinking of the pictures he hadn’t been able to erase from his mind, he slid a glance Sophie’s way, looking at her smooth, toned arms, remembering her forearms covered in nasty bruises. She was strong—stronger than she knew—yet delicate and vulnerable all at the same time.

  She met his gaze, and he sent her a small smile. She was so pretty in her pale pink sundress with all of that shiny blond hair curled in loose ringlets. Her eyes lit up as she smiled back, and he could only be thankful she was here instead of in Boise, Idaho. He’d had several bad moments throughout the morning, replaying the events of last night. If he hadn’t looked up as she turned the corner at the bus depot… Everything could have worked out so differently. He might not have—

  Sophie nudged him.

  “Hmm.”

  “They’re calling us. It’s our turn.”

  “Oh.” He got to his feet, wearing black slacks and a white polo. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” She grabbed his hand as she stood. “I want to be sure you’re—this is so much to ask.”

  “I’m ready if you are.” He wanted his name next to hers on a marriage certificate—the sooner the better. Eric the asshole would lose most of his thunder when he realized he was no longer in the running for Sophie’s money.