Soldier Bodyguard

by Lisa Childs

  Except for the bodyguards and the killer.

  She shivered. She was probably cold. She wore only a robe over a nightgown. Her feet were bare. Somewhere she’d lost her slippers. He’d found one near the woodchip trail. He’d been afraid that she’d lost it because someone had been carrying her. Or dragging her.

  “Yes, we need to check on Manny, make sure he’s all right.” Now she shuddered. “I know he got hit. I saw the shadow, saw it swing something at him and Manny fell.” Her voice cracked. “And I ran.” She blinked, but a tear trailed down her cheek. “Like a coward.”

  “You were smart,” he told her. “If you hadn’t run away…”

  The killer would have gotten ahold of her. Cole might not have found her. She would have been lost. Or dead.

  He shuddered at the thought of losing her. Six years ago, he’d given her up. He’d thought he was doing the noble thing. But he’d made a hell of a mistake. A mistake it was probably too late to fix.

  Too much had happened. She’d married another man. She had passed off Cole’s child as that man’s. But still, Cole couldn’t bring himself to hate her. He wanted to. But just like he had since the first moment he saw her, he loved her.

  And with that love kicked in all of his protective instincts. So she wouldn’t hurt her feet, he swung her up in his arms and carried her back toward the house. She didn’t protest. She just wrapped her arm around his shoulders and clung to him.

  He could feel her trembling, either from the cold or the fear she must have felt. As always, he reacted to her closeness. His pulse, which had already been racing, quickened even more. His heart beat hard and heavily, just like hers. He felt it pounding against his shoulder.

  While he had one arm beneath her slight weight, holding her against him, his other hand held his weapon. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her and not just because it was his job to protect her.

  He couldn’t lose her. Not that he wanted her again. It didn’t matter how Cole felt about her. After what she’d done—after keeping his daughter from him—he would never be able to trust her.

  And he couldn’t be with someone he couldn’t trust.

  *

  Just like Cole had held her and comforted her, Shawna held and comforted Maisy. But unlike Cole, who only held her for a few moments while bringing her back to the house, Shawna held her daughter until she fell asleep again.

  Then she tucked her warm little body back into her bed. She wanted to say something to Nikki who sat in a chair nearby, but she didn’t want to risk waking up Maisy again. The poor kid hadn’t had much sleep that wasn’t interrupted either with real monsters or nightmares of them.

  So Shawna just nodded at Nikki before she slipped back into the hall. Cole stood outside the door. Why hadn’t he come inside? Hadn’t he wanted to be around his daughter?

  Did he not want her to be his daughter? Did he not want to be a father?

  “I’m sorry,” Shawna murmured.

  His eyes, the same deep blue as their daughter’s, narrowed slightly. “About what?”

  She expelled a shaky sigh. There were so many things. “Manny,” she said. “I talked him into bringing me outside for some air.”

  “And nearly got you both killed,” Cole finished for her.

  She reached for his arm, clutching it. “Is he going to be all right?” How badly had his friend been hurt?

  When Cole had carried her back to the house, Manny was no longer on the patio. But blood pooled on the bricks from his wound.

  “He regained consciousness before Cooper even got to him. But the boss insisted on taking him for a CT scan.”

  Her stomach pitched with nausea at the thought of how seriously the other man might be hurt. As a nurse, she knew how dangerous head wounds were. The risk for subdural bleeding. For swelling on the brain.

  “That’s good he’s getting a CT,” she said. Hopefully the attending physician would have him admitted for observation. “I’m glad Cooper took him.”

  “He gave him a fight,” another man said. The blond giant, Lars, joined them outside Maisy’s room. “Dane and I had to insist.”

  Cole snorted. “Like either of you have the right to talk. Both you stubborn fools have fought getting treatment for concussions.”

  Lars’s incredibly broad shoulders rose and fell in a slight shrug. “And we’re both fine. Manny will be, too.”

  Cole nodded and released a ragged breath. “Yeah, he’s got a hard head.”

  “The hardest,” Lars agreed. It was clear they were comforting each other in that awkward, tough-love way that guys had.

  The door to Maisy’s room creaked open and Nikki stepped out. Before Shawna or the other bodyguards could say anything, the petite brunette assured them, “The windows are locked. Nobody can get to her before I go back inside.”

  Shawna relaxed slightly. She believed Nikki would keep her daughter safe.

  But Cole remained tense. “We’re short Cooper and Manny until they get back,” he said. “We need to stick extra close to Shawna and my…” he drew in a breath, as if bracing himself, before continuing “…daughter.”

  Shawna’s heart flipped. He’d claimed her. If something happened to Shawna, Maisy would not be alone. She’d have her father. Her family.

  But Cole believed one of them was a killer.

  “And we need to be aware that if the killer wasn’t armed before, he definitely has a gun now,” Cole warned the other bodyguards.

  Lars flinched. “He got Manny’s weapon off him?”

  Shawna doubted Manny had had much choice. He’d clearly been knocked out cold before he ever hit the patio.

  Cole nodded. Nikki cursed.

  “Does it matter?” Shawna asked as hysteria began to well up in her fiercely pounding heart. She had never been so afraid—not even when she’d been a little girl alone in the world after her parents had died. “Is Manny’s gun any more lethal than a bomb or carbon monoxide or a rope?”

  All the bodyguards stared at her as if she was crazy. But then she didn’t know the dangers they knew. She only knew the dangers she’d faced. She wasn’t one of them. This wasn’t the life she had chosen. She wanted no part of it—of any of it. She’d mistakenly thought she could once handle it when Cole had left for boot camp. But when he’d been deployed…

  She had lived in fear that something would happen to him. Maybe he’d been right to break up with her then. Maybe she wouldn’t have been able to handle being the wife of a man who constantly put himself in danger.

  “A gun is faster,” Cole replied. “And once a bullet is fired, it’s hard to stop it from hitting its target.”

  So the killer would be able to kill her faster and easier now that he had Manny’s gun. Her legs began to tremble, threatening to fold beneath her.

  “Target,” she repeated Cole’s word. Then she clarified. “Me. I’m the target.”

  “We’ll protect you,” Nikki assured her.

  But this time Cole made no such promise to her. He only stared at her. And she had no idea what he was thinking or feeling.

  Was he so angry with her over keeping Maisy from him that he didn’t care anymore if she lived or died? She could hardly blame him. It hadn’t happened yet, but she was furious at the thought of her attacker trying to take her away from her daughter, like she had kept Cole away.

  But if he’d known, would he have come back to her? Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t have wanted him back like that—just because of their child. She’d wanted him back because he loved her—like she had always loved him. And always would…until the day she died. Unfortunately that day might not be far off. The killer was determined to get to her.

  “Why?” she asked them. “Why am I a target?” She had no money. No enemies but for Cole. Why was someone trying to kill her?

  Lars and Nikki shook their heads. They had no answers for her. But Cole looked away. He already suspected that someone in his family was responsible. Did he know why one of them would want her dead?

/>   *

  The killer stared at the gun held in a gloved hand. The Glock was easy enough to use. Slide off the safety and squeeze the trigger. When Shawna had fallen on the garden path, it would have been easy to shoot her.

  But the gunshot would have drawn the attention of the other bodyguards—would have brought help right away. Not that it had taken Cole long to rush to her rescue.

  No. The new plan—the one that had replaced the brilliant murder-suicide plan—was to kill Cole first. But Shawna going outside, with just the one bodyguard for protection, had just presented too good an opportunity to pass up. Once the bodyguard had been incapacitated, she would have been so easy to kill.

  But for Cole’s damn untimely arrival.

  Shooting Cole then would have been as risky as shooting her. The sound of the gunshot would have brought all the bodyguards rushing in to help just the same.

  Cole’s death had to be planned out precisely. It had to allow enough time for the killer to escape without detection from the murder scene.

  But Cole was going to die. Soon.

  Chapter 14

  Cole could see that Shawna wanted promises from him. She was still standing outside her daughter’s bedroom door. Lars and Nikki were also in the hall with them.

  Shawna stared up at him, quietly beseeching him. He fully intended to do everything within his power to keep her alive, even if he had to take the bullet for her. And that was what he didn’t want to tell her.

  He didn’t want to point out the dangers of his job. He already had his grandfather and Cooper conspiring to remove him from this assignment. But there was no way in hell he was leaving this house now, not with Shawna and their daughter in danger.

  Cooper was gone now, though. So Cole stepped into his place as lead. “Dane’s guarding the outside door,” he said. “Lars, you take this hall, and Nikki, stay in Maisy’s room. I’ll bring Shawna back to mine.”

  He expected her to resist, but she said nothing, just let him lead her back into the room she’d left earlier with Manny. She shivered as he closed the door behind them. No windows were open in this room, but she might have still been cold from running around outside in the gardens.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. She was probably in shock.

  She gave him a faint nod, as if she wasn’t quite certain herself.

  He looked closer. In addition to the bruising on her throat from the earlier attempt on her life, he noticed the cuts on her knees and hands. “You’re hurt,” he said.

  She turned over her hands and glanced down at her dirty, bloodied palms. “I fell.”

  He suppressed a shudder at how close the killer must have come to catching her. Whoever the hell it was, he’d gotten too close—too many times. Despite himself, Cole offered the promise she’d sought earlier. “I will protect you,” he vowed.

  She released a shaky little breath of relief but then she stared up at him and asked, “Are you sure you want to?”

  “It’s my job,” he reminded her. But she was a hell of a lot more than that to him. She was everything. She had always been…

  Everything.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “You already apologized for getting Manny to take you outside,” he reminded her. But he didn’t actually think that was what she was apologizing for this time. Would she, though? Would she apologize for keeping Maisy from him?

  And would he accept if she did? Could he forgive her? Even while he still cared about her—hell, still loved her—he was furious with her. But she wasn’t the only one he was angry with.

  “I’m sorry your grandfather got you caught up in all this,” she said.

  “You shouldn’t apologize for my grandfather,” he told her. Not when she was probably in danger because of the wily old codger. “And we didn’t have to accept this assignment.”

  “You said Cooper gave you no choice,” she reminded him.

  He sighed and admitted, “I could have fought him harder.” Or he could have told Cooper the truth—that he wasn’t over her, that he would never get over her. But he suspected his very intuitive friend already knew that.

  “Why didn’t you?” she asked.

  He stepped closer. “I didn’t and I don’t want you to be in any danger, Shawna.” And that was why he had to be careful. He had to make sure no one knew how he felt about her yet.

  Not even her.

  “You haven’t changed your mind since you found out about Maisy?” she asked. Her voice cracked and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You don’t hate me.”

  “I want to,” he admitted.

  “I would understand if you did,” she told him.

  Maybe that was why she’d kept their child a secret—because she’d wanted him to hate her like she’d hated him. She must have, to keep Maisy from him. And that was his fault. For the things he’d said when he’d broken their engagement. For the way he’d acted, as if she’d meant nothing to him.

  He stepped closer and touched her hands. They were smeared with dirt and blood. Even then, he wanted them on him, wanted her to touch him like he wanted to touch her.

  “You should clean up.” He pointed her toward the attached bathroom.

  He needed a moment alone to gather his thoughts and his control. Right now his body ached with need for hers. He wanted her. Despite everything, he wanted her.

  *

  Shawna wanted Cole. She wanted him to hold her. To forgive her.

  Most of all, she wanted him to love her. But had he ever? How could he have broken their engagement and her heart like he had?

  She flinched as she turned off the shower faucet. Despite washing them, her hands still stung with the little cuts and scrapes from the woodchips. Her knees had fared a little better. But she’d needed to wash her feet, too, since she had lost her slippers somewhere along the garden trail.

  So she’d just climbed into the shower, letting the spray wash over her naked body. She’d wanted Cole’s hands on her, moving over her bare skin, heating up her flesh to chase away the chill. And the fear.

  She was so afraid. Afraid of losing her life. And afraid of losing her heart.

  Why didn’t he hate her? For all the years she’d kept Maisy from him, he had the right. If the situation had been reversed, she would have hated him. Did he not care enough about her? Or Maisy?

  Knuckles brushed across the wood of the bathroom door and a deep voice called out, “Are you all right?”

  And she knew that he cared—at least a little bit—about her still.

  She stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. As she did, she opened her mouth to answer him. But he opened the door before she had the chance.

  His gaze swept over her naked body. Just that warmed her, had her blood pumping fast and hot through her veins.

  She wanted him. And she could see, with the passion darkening his eyes, that he wanted her, as well. He reached for her. But instead of jerking her into his arms, pulling her closer, he reached for the towel. He ran the soft fabric over her skin, drying her. He lifted the towel to her hair and squeezed the water from her long tresses.

  She thought fleetingly of how she bathed and dried Maisy. But this was nothing like that. This was not maternal, although it was gentle. It was hot as hell, like the look in his eyes.

  He slid the towel from her hair to her waist, then he used it to propel her toward him. “Are you all right?” he asked again, but this time his voice was gruff with emotion.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He touched her throat and then ran his fingertips along her bare arms to her hands. “What hurts?”

  She caught her hand in his and pulled it toward her breast, toward her heart that pounded madly with passion for him. “This hurts…” she murmured.

  His hand closed over her breast, and her nipple tightened and pushed against his palm. Her breath caught at the exquisite sensation. It had been so long since she’d been touched like this.

  “Cole…”

 
He shook his head, as if trying to deny that he wanted her, too. But she could feel the tension in him, could see his pulse beating erratically in his throat.

  He wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Maybe more—he swung her up in his arms and carried her toward the bed. Like before, he followed her down as he lowered her to the mattress.

  But she didn’t let him hold himself away from her. She clutched him close and tore at his clothes, trying to pull up his shirt. It caught on the holster.

  He reached for his gun.

  She tensed beneath him, fearful that he’d heard something. That the killer was back. That he would give her no rest.

  Or no pleasure.

  But Cole removed the gun and the holster, laying them on the small table beside the bed. He dragged his shirt over his head, muscles rippling in his arms and chest. He was broader than he’d been six years ago, more muscular. And along with the muscles, there were a few scars—a jagged little ridge on one shoulder and another along his ribs.

  She touched them tentatively. “What happened?”

  He shook his head. And she didn’t know if he didn’t want to talk about it or if he couldn’t. What had he endured during all those missions with the Marine Corps and as a bodyguard?

  She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the scar on his shoulder. Then she wriggled beneath him until she was able to press her lips to the scar along his ribs.

  His breath shuddered out in a ragged sigh. And her name. “Shawna…”

  Then he was the one to slip down the bed, down her body, pressing his lips to every inch of her skin. She shivered even while heat coursed through her. He kissed her shoulders and her arms and her breasts. His mouth moved over the mound before his lips closed around a nipple and gently tugged.

  She cried out at the exquisite pleasure and tension wound tightly inside her. She needed him so badly and reached for his belt, unclasped it and pulled down his zipper.

  His breath hissed out between his teeth. She stroked her fingers over his erection, which strained against his boxer briefs. Then she pushed down the material, and it was like he stopped breathing entirely as she stroked her fingers down the engorged length of him.