Protected By The Bad Boy (Bad Boy Bodyguards Book 1)

by Evangeline Kelly

  “Next time you try that I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. Don’t make me escort you out of here.”

  “Just tell her to call me.” And then he turned on his heel and fled.

  Chapter 8

  Kayla

  “Miss Keller, I’m calling to follow up regarding that list of addresses you found.” It was Officer Hill, the policeman who’d taken the report the night I was attacked after the concert.

  I was at home, and it was the day following the charity event for Fight Hunger. I was alone, but I was secure in my house and didn’t have plans to go anywhere. So much had happened lately that I needed time to decompress and deal with the emotional after-effects. Having Leo ambush me at the dinner yesterday was plain creepy. What kind of psycho did Verity set me up with? I’d called her earlier this morning and she’d apologized profusely, not only for arranging that date, but for not getting to know him before setting us up. Even so, the damage had already been done.

  “What did you find out?” I asked the officer.

  “We don’t believe it had anything to do with the man who attacked you. The paper you found was most likely lying on the ground before the incident happened.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “We didn’t find anyone who fit the profile. We did, however, figure out that all the homes on the list were listed as AirBnbs. We made a concerted effort to check out everyone staying in each home for the week in question, as well as the week before and after. No one had a visible scar or matched the description of the man you encountered.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m sorry I’m not able to deliver good news on that account. We’ll notify you if new evidence emerges.”

  “Thank you.”

  I ended the call and stood there for several long moments, a sense of hopelessness flooding over me like a giant tidal wave about to wipe me out. I knew that criminals were often brought to justice, but it felt as if that never happened when it came to my assailants. I didn’t want to be jaded by the system, but, so far, I was starting to feel as if it were inevitable. Recent events had triggered the trauma I’d experienced years ago, and although I was doing my best to get through this, it was taking a toll on me.

  My knees weakened and felt like they might give out if I didn’t sit down immediately. I stumbled towards the couch and lowered myself onto the cushions. I leaned forward so my head was in my hands.

  Lord, I don’t know how to deal with any of this. I understand that Gene was a random stalker that has an issue with women and has done stuff like that before. What I don’t understand is who that man was who attacked me in the parking lot. There was no rhyme or reason for what he did. And what about Daniel?

  I began to weep softly as my late husband’s face came to mind. My partner. My best friend. The man I would never get over.

  How could you allow that mugging to happen to us, Lord?

  Tears slid down my cheeks as the pain of losing someone so dear settled in my chest and throat, clenching and tightening as if a cord had been wrapped around my neck.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d prayed and asked God for answers. Over the years, I’d often come to the Lord pleading for justice. The man who murdered Daniel had gotten away, and it killed me to know he was out there somewhere, living his life as if he would never have to pay for what he did.

  I wasn’t the vengeful type, but it had taken quite a while for me to get to the place where I was able to forgive. I knew that was what God asked of all His children, and I put my trust in Romans 12:19. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.”

  Whether that would happen in this life or the next, I didn’t know, but I had learned that I had to put all the unknowns into God’s hands and believe He was wise enough to handle them for me.

  Anxiety pulsed in my stomach and a feeling of impending doom hovered over me like a black cloud, threatening to overtake me. My heart rate sped up so fast I feared I might be on the brink of a panic attack. I didn’t often have them, but occasionally I succumbed to my body’s way of having a meltdown.

  I did a breathing exercise a therapist had taught me, and then I lifted my Bible from the lampstand next to the couch and flipped to the place I bookmarked for situations like these. Over the years, I’d used scripture to tame my frantic thoughts and bring them into subjection before the Lord. Yes, I’d attended therapy and learned tools to help, but they all worked in the short-term, and nothing compared to coming before the Great Physician. He was my Creator and knew and understood me better than anyone else. The Word was what I needed for the long-term.

  There was one Psalm in particular that I’d turned to after that incident four years ago, and a day hadn’t gone by since then that I didn’t read it to find comfort. I held my Bible in my lap and read Psalm 91:1-6 slowly so the words would overpower my fears.

  He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High

  will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.

  I will say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress,

  my God, in whom I trust.”

  For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler

  and from the deadly pestilence.

  He will cover you with his pinions,

  and under his wings you will find refuge;

  his faithfulness is a shield and buckler.

  You will not fear the terror of the night,

  nor the arrow that flies by day,

  nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness,

  nor the destruction that wastes at noonday.

  When I came to the end, I let out a breath and closed my eyes, appreciating the protection I found in those words. God was my refuge and fortress, and the picture in that Psalm of hiding underneath His wings brought an image of peace and safety and great comfort. I kept my eyes closed and rested in Him until I felt my heart rate coming back to normal.

  And then something completely off-topic came to mind. Daniel’s clothing. It was time to give it away…if I could stomach the task.

  When I’d moved after his death, I’d gotten rid of his tools and garden supplies, but I hadn’t had the heart to get rid of his clothes. They still smelled of him and reminded me of happier days. Now was the moment to donate them to a charity. Now. I sensed it was the right thing, and if I didn’t do something soon, I might never do it at all.

  Even so, I recoiled at the thought of packing up his belongings. It felt too final, and I couldn’t imagine not having the opportunity to look through his things one last time. I stood and walked to the guest room with a purpose, and, yet, I held myself back. I wanted to move forward with my life—to live in the present rather than the past, but why was it so hard to do that?

  Once I was in the room, I slid open the closet door and ran my fingers through the shirts and pants hanging there, reminders of a different life. In the first few months after he passed away, and even a year after that, my heart had throbbed with intense pain when I looked through his things. Four years later, I was at a place of acceptance, but I knew right then and there that I wasn’t ready to pack everything up.

  I shook my head. No, not ready yet. That day would come—I didn’t doubt that it would—but that day wasn’t today.

  My eyes fell on a box on the floor of the closet, and I picked it up and brought it to the bed. Maybe I could get rid of a few of those things instead. I sifted through the pile and pulled out a journal Daniel used to write in at the end of each day. He had been good with words, unlike me, and I had always admired him for it. Initially, I didn’t plan to read any of it as it was his personal outlet and I didn’t want to intrude on his private moments.

  But now, as I was contemplating what to do with his things, I didn’t see how I could dispose of the journal without reading it. Sometimes I felt as if his voice was slowly slipping away from me and I wanted—no needed—to have it back. To recover it just this once.

  He w
ouldn’t mind if I read it now that he was gone. I knew him well enough to know that much. He had loved me and would have wanted me to be comforted. He’d never been the type to have any deep dark secrets, so I wasn’t worried about that.

  For the next forty-five minutes, I sat on the bed and consumed his journal. There were moments when I laughed out loud and moments when my eyes watered. It was good to see his handwriting and take in his thoughts on the page.

  And then I came to a disturbing entry, marked two weeks before we were mugged.

  I’ve uncovered something terrible, and now I have to find the courage to go to the police.

  That was all it said.

  I stared at the words, willing there to be more, but there wasn’t anything else. I shook my head in disbelief, regret filling every bone in my body. I should have read this right after he died. It was proof that Daniel’s attack might not have been a random mugging like we had originally thought, and I had let it sit here all this time.

  What had Daniel gotten himself into?

  ***

  Minutes later, I looked through my contacts for Detective Marlow’s number. He’d handled the investigation four years ago but hadn’t found anyone with a motive to kill Daniel. I had pushed him to look into my neighbor, Victor, but nothing ever came of it. He had an alibi, so that was all water under the bridge now, but I couldn’t stop thinking that he’d had something to do with it. That man had been dangerous, and I didn’t believe for a second he didn’t have it in him to go after us. There was no proof of that, of course. It was just a theory, but I had always felt uneasy when I thought of Victor.

  Once I found the number, I dialed and waited for Detective Marlow to answer.

  “Kayla. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

  “I’m surprised you kept my number.”

  He chuckled. “I rarely get rid of my contacts. It’s a problem of mine.” He cleared his throat. “What can I do for you?”

  I wasted no time getting straight to the point. “I found Daniel’s journal today and there’s an entry two weeks before he died that’s very disturbing.” I read the words to him and waited for his response.

  “Hmm… Now, that is concerning. Did he indicate what he uncovered?”

  “No, that was all he said.”

  “That’s strange, but there isn’t much I can do if we don’t have more information.”

  My heart sunk, but I hadn’t expected a different answer. “I understand.”

  “But stop by when you get the chance so I can make a copy of the entry and put it in his file. If something else shows up, that clue might be important.”

  “All right, I’ll do that today.”

  “Great. When you come to the station, just ask for me at the front and they’ll lead you back to my desk. I’ll let them know I’m expecting you.”

  After that, I got ready as quickly as I could. I called Troy, and he said he’d swing by to pick me up. I told him he didn’t have to accompany me since I didn’t plan on stopping anywhere else and the police station was safe, but he insisted on coming along.

  Twenty minutes later, I was riding with Troy in his maroon Toyota SUV, headed towards the local police station. I held the journal in my lap, my thumb rubbing back and forth over the brown cover. I told Troy about the journal entry as well as the call I received earlier from Officer Hill regarding the list of AirBnbs.

  Troy shifted in the driver’s seat, concern etched over his features. “Daniel never mentioned he wanted to go to the police?”

  “No. I mean, yes, we talked about calling the police when Victor caused trouble, but I don’t remember anything more.”

  “What else was going on in his life at the time?”

  “Not much, really. He worked long hours, so he didn’t have time for hobbies. We went to the gym, to church, and we often met up with his coworkers for dinner. Beyond that, we were pretty boring.”

  Troy glanced at me, his eyes flickering with amusement, and then he turned back to the road. “I highly doubt you were boring.”

  I snickered, knowing exactly what he was getting at. “Yeah, yeah. You think I’m a hot mess, don’t you, Mr. Littman?”

  He chuckled. “Can I plead the fifth?”

  “Not when you’re with me.”

  “Didn’t think so.” He let out a laugh as he pulled into the parking lot of the police station, the car jolting as we went over a speed bump. He parked and turned to me with a gleam in his eye. “I haven’t known you long, but I can say with certainty that anyone who thinks spending time with you is boring is downright crazy. You’re full of life. No matter what I initially thought of you, I saw that right away.”

  My stomach fluttered, and I felt inexplicably drawn to him in a way I couldn’t explain. Few people had that effect on me, but it seemed he was one of them. I opened my mouth to say something, but he was already unbuckling his seatbelt and turning away. I was about to ask what he initially thought of me, but I already knew the answer to that, so I dropped it.

  He started to open the car door when all of a sudden, he looked at me and flashed a smile that lit up his entire face. It was as if all the warmth of the sun shined a light into the vehicle, and I was filled with so much happiness, I wanted to laugh out loud. Crazy, yes. But that was exactly what it was like. Moments like this were rare, so I allowed myself to enjoy it. Savor it.

  Staring into his dark brown eyes, I was struck once again with how handsome he was. He was so handsome it hurt to look at him, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt a strange sensation in my gut. It was a longing for companionship. For love. It came out of nowhere and happened so quickly I almost gasped. Did that mean I was ready to move on?

  “What?” he asked. “You’re looking at me strangely.”

  “I…” I didn’t know what to say. My face heated, and I turned away, taking off my seatbelt. “It’s nothing.”

  “You sure?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.” I got out of the vehicle before he studied me closer and realized what was going on in my head.

  As we walked towards the station, I felt his gaze on me, but I refused to look at him. If I did, he’d see the embarrassment all over my face and figure out what I was thinking.

  What was wrong with me? Just earlier I’d cried about all that had happened with Daniel and here I was, thinking about moving on. I knew it wasn’t bad per se. Daniel was in heaven with the Lord and it had been four years. I was free to date again if I wanted, but up until this point, I hadn’t seriously considered it. Or even wanted to move forward.

  Did it make me shallow that I was now pondering love because I had a hot bodyguard? I was drawn to his steady presence, but it didn’t hurt that he was the most handsome man I’d ever met. My skin burned, and I wanted to cover my face with my hands and hide, but there was nowhere to go.

  Troy stopped walking and glanced at me with a look of astonishment. “Are you…blushing?”

  Mortification washed over me at being found out, and I hastily searched for an answer that didn’t lead to confessing what I thought of him. “Of course not. It’s just… It’s been a hard day. I went through Daniel’s things and—”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He put a hand on my arm, a pained look on his face, and I could see in his eyes that he regretted calling me out. “I’m sorry I said anything. You’ve been dealing with a lot. I imagine finding that journal…” He trailed off, looking as if he wanted to kick himself. “I’m such an idiot sometimes.”

  “Don’t say that. I don’t think you’re an idiot.” I met his gaze, and it happened all over again. Electricity sparked between us, and the air suddenly grew thick and heavy. I wanted to reach out and take his hand, but I knew better than to do something like that. Instead, I just sputtered like a crazy person. “We should go in now.” I gestured to the double doors at the entrance of the station. “We should definitely go in.”

  He nodded. “After you.”

  “No, you go ahead.” I held up a hand, gesturi
ng for him to pass by.

  “It’s the polite thing to let you go first,” he said.

  I frowned. “But usually you want to check out the room before I enter.”

  “True, but this time we’re at the police station. It’s secure.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” I was babbling now, not even thinking about what I was saying. My face heated again at the realization, and I opened the door and walked through with Troy close behind.

  Everything went in slow motion from that point on. Inside, an officer held a man’s arms behind his back, and it looked like he was struggling to handcuff him, but the man was flailing against him, trying to get away.

  Before I could even react, the man broke free and hurled himself in my direction in an attempt to escape out the double doors. My mouth dropped open, and instead of moving out of the way as I should have, I just froze, the hairs on the back of my arms standing straight up.

  An arm wrapped around my waist, and I felt myself flying through the air as Troy lifted me off my feet and shoved me to the side, shielding me with his body. I stood, trembling, between the wall and Troy’s massive frame, trying to catch my breath. It all happened so quickly it almost seemed like a dream.

  Seconds later, I heard scuffling and grunting and easily verified that this was very much not a dream.

  “We got him.” One of the officers passed by, and from the sound of it, several more had joined him in an attempt to get the man under control. I wasn’t able to make out what was going on, though, since I was hidden behind Troy’s body.

  Moments later, he turned and faced me, gaze sweeping over me for any sign of an injury. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded and blinked, feeling as if I were under some kind of spell. I was in danger one moment, and safe the next, but that wasn’t what was affecting me so much. Troy’s masculine frame towered over me, his eyes meeting mine as something surged between us. That electrical charge passed through the air again, and it was so strong it felt like it would overpower me if I didn’t move away from him. I was standing against the wall so I couldn’t move back to escape. Instead, I stepped to the side, needing space to breathe and gather my thoughts. Any space would do, as long as it wasn’t sucked up by his charismatic presence.