In the Bodyguard's Arms

by Lisa Childs

  Sure, she’d kissed him first—which had totally shocked him. Then he’d done the unforgivable. He’d kissed her. And he hadn’t wanted to stop.

  Her mouth was so hot, so sweet. He could have kissed her for hours. But he wouldn’t have stopped there. He wouldn’t have stopped at kissing—if he hadn’t suddenly come to his senses and remembered that he had a job to do.

  She was in danger, and he could not afford to be distracted. To clear his head, he stepped outside and was instantly blinded.

  It wasn’t pepper spray burning his eyes but the sudden flash of a camera bulb. Blinking and squinting, he swung out and knocked the camera to the ground.

  “Hey!” the photographer shouted as he leaned over to reach for it—just as Manny kicked it. Along with a spray of gravel from the makeshift sidewalk, the camera flew several feet.

  Then he reached for the guy. With his hand in his collar, he jerked him around to face him. “Who the hell are you?”

  Was this the guy? The stalker? At around six foot, he was the right height. But he seemed skinnier than he had last night. And maybe a little older, his hair graying, to move as fast as he had through the woods.

  The guy’s pale face flushed with color and he stammered, “I—I’m a reporter.”

  “Where are your credentials?” he challenged the guy.

  “I’m freelance.”

  Maybe a freelance stalker. He might not have been as old as he looked. Maybe he’d just gone prematurely gray.

  Wanting to get to the truth, Manny pulled out the guy’s wallet and flipped it open to a New York driver’s license. “Bernard Setters.” Behind the license, there was a press pass. That didn’t necessarily mean it was legit, though.

  “You know my name,” the reporter said as if he expected Manny to recognize it—like he was somebody Manny should know. “Now tell me yours.”

  Manny snorted. He hadn’t had a whole lot of experience with the media. The Corps had made sure the press had known nothing of their missions, and Cooper had handled all the reporters’ questions after the assignments Manny had worked for the Payne Protection Agency. But he didn’t need experience to know to reveal as little as possible.

  His friends all thought he talked too much. But that was just to them—because he could trust them. He knew to never trust a reporter.

  “You’re trespassing,” Manny told him. “You need to leave this property right now.”

  “You don’t own this property,” Setters told him. “Teddie Plummer owns this property. I’m here to speak to her.”

  Manny doubted Teddie had put her own name on the deed since county websites were so easy to search for the names of property owners. This guy was probably just fishing.

  “You must have been given misinformation,” Manny told him. “No Plummer here. Let me escort you back to your vehicle.” He gave the guy a little shove toward the hatchback parked in the driveway.

  Just because he’d driven up didn’t mean he wasn’t the one who’d camped out around the house the night before, though. His hand grasping the back of this guy’s leather jacket, Manny tugged him toward the car. As he neared it, he could see in the back. There was no camping gear, nothing but a leather bag that matched his jacket and smaller bags that probably carried camera equipment.

  Of course, he could have left his camping gear wherever he’d moved his camp, but Manny had a hard time picturing this guy—with his shiny loafers and designer jeans—sleeping on the ground.

  The guy tried twisting from his grasp, but Manny tightly held on to him. “I was told this is where she’s staying,” Setters protested. “I know she’s here.”

  Manny snorted. “I hope you didn’t pay for that tip.”

  The guy’s face flushed with embarrassment. Apparently he had paid for the information. Would the stalker have sold Teddie’s whereabouts?

  Manny doubted it. He would have wanted to keep her all to himself, isolated, so he could get to her more easily, like he had the night before. No. Someone else must have recognized her around town. Or maybe even the people from whom she’d bought the cabin had sold her out.

  Maybe she was right. She couldn’t trust anyone.

  “I heard you talking to somebody inside the cabin,” the guy said, dragging those shiny loafers as Manny steered him around the hood toward the driver’s door. “It sounded like her voice. I think she’s here.”

  He sounded like he was trying really hard to convince himself of that.

  Manny chuckled. “How much you pay for that tip?” he asked. “Because I can give you—”

  Another vehicle turned from the street onto the long gravel drive leading toward the cabin. Through the trees Manny recognized the SUV his friends had rented from someone at the airstrip.

  They had returned pretty quickly. It must not have taken them long to talk to the townspeople. Of course, from what Manny had seen the day before, it wasn’t much of a town. The SUV pulled up behind the hatchback.

  The reporter turned toward it with excitement and tried to lift his camera. But Manny locked his arm around Setters’s arms, keeping them locked down at his sides.

  He wriggled in his grasp. “Let me go! This is assault. I will have you arrested.”

  “And I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

  Lars and Cole jumped out of the front of the SUV and started toward them. “This guy giving you a problem?” Lars asked as he arched a pale blond brow. His big body was tense, his hand close to his holster. He was silently asking if this was the stalker.

  Manny shook his head and disappointment flashed through him. They apparently hadn’t come back so soon because they’d learned the stalker’s identity—not if they thought this guy could be the stalker.

  “No problem at all,” Manny said, “just some reporter that got duped. Old Bernie here thinks this cabin belongs to some guy named Teddie Plummer.”

  “Teddie Plummer is a supermodel!” Setters exclaimed, his voice sharp with indignation. Manny figured he was more indignant about being called old than about Teddie being mistaken for a man.

  Amused, Manny pushed the joke and asked, “What—he model underwear or something?”

  Setters jerked from his grasp and whirled around to face him. “He’s a woman!”

  Manny grimaced. “That’s an awful name for a woman. She really that famous?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t incredibly famous,” the guy said. “I am Bernard Setters.” He turned toward Cole and Lars as if checking their faces for signs of recognition.

  They both shrugged their wide shoulders. “Never heard of you, buddy,” Cole remarked. But Manny knew his friend was lying. He had recognized the name. Because he lowered his head and turned away from the reporter, probably hoping the guy wouldn’t recognize him.

  “Rednecks,” Bernard muttered as he reached for his door handle. He glanced back at the SUV. “Can you back that thing up so I can get out of here?”

  Cole nodded as he headed back toward the open driver’s door. “Sure enough...”

  Bernard glanced up at Manny. “I am sorry for bothering you,” he said. “I’ll let you get back to...” His eyes widened as he finally noticed their holsters. He tried to pull open the driver’s door.

  But Manny was there, his body blocking it from opening far enough for the guy to squeeze into the car. He wrapped his hands around the top of the door and lowered his voice to a deep growl. “Better verify your source a little more thoroughly next time.”

  The reporter’s head bobbed in a quick nod. “Yeah, yeah...”

  Manny stepped back and let the guy squeeze into his rental hatchback. But before the door closed, he heard Setters mumble something about Michigan militia. Once Cole pulled the SUV up beside instead of behind the hatchback, the reporter put the vehicle into Reverse and scrambled down the drive, spewing gravel behind the small tires.


  Lars chuckled. “He won’t be back.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Manny said as the others stepped out of the SUV. Maybe they were the ones who’d been duped. “Her stalker being a reporter makes sense,” he said. “That’s how he always finds her—tips from sources. And that’s how he has all those pictures.”

  “But if it was that reporter, why did he show up here like this?” Lars asked.

  “Maybe he saw all you drive off and wanted to see if she was alone?” Dane was dark-haired and nearly as big as him; he could have been mistaken for Manny.

  Nikki nodded. “It does make sense,” she agreed.

  “What did you guys turn up in town?” Manny asked, although he wasn’t hopeful they’d learned much.

  “That Yoopers don’t like to talk to anyone from downstate,” Cole said. “Whoever tipped off that reporter wasn’t from around here.”

  “So you came up empty?” he asked. He’d figured as much with their quick return. But he was disappointed. He needed to wrap up this assignment soon—for Teddie’s sake but also for his own.

  “We need to bring her to River City,” Cole said. “Get her the hell out of here where we can protect her better.”

  Frustration had Manny wanting to punch something. Maybe he shouldn’t have let that reporter go so easily, especially if Bernard Setters was actually her stalker. “We need to catch this guy.”

  Nikki tilted her head and mused aloud, “Maybe we can do both...”

  “You have a plan,” her fiancé said as he narrowed his pale blue eyes and studied Nikki. “Why do I think I’m not going to like it?”

  Nikki shrugged. “I’m actually hoping you don’t like it too much.”

  A chill of unease chased down Manny’s spine. Maybe the stalker was watching him from somewhere out in the woods. Or maybe Manny just had a premonition that he wasn’t going to like Nikki’s plan, either. And when it came to Nikki, it wouldn’t matter that he was the lead on this assignment; she was the Payne.

  They would all wind up going along with her plan no matter how dangerous it might prove to be.

  Chapter 9

  Lars Ecklund loved Nikki Payne more than he’d ever thought it possible he could love anyone. Not only was she brilliant, she was also beautiful—with short, curly auburn hair and big brown eyes. But he found himself ridiculously attracted to the woman sitting next to him in the back of the SUV that Cole was driving toward the airport.

  Her hair was long and red and hung in loose curls around her shoulders. She wore dark glasses, as if she didn’t want to be recognized. But how could she not be? That hairstyle had been named for her and wigs had been made to imitate it.

  “You can stop staring now,” she told him.

  “I—I’m sorry...” he murmured. He knew he was getting in trouble, but he didn’t care. His pulse hammered as desire overwhelmed him.

  He leaned close and slid his hand over her thigh. Beneath the denim it was toned and warm.

  Her lips curved into a slight smile. “I don’t know whether I should be flattered or mad as hell.”

  He pulled his hand away. “I sure don’t want you mad as hell.”

  Nikki Payne was dangerous when she wasn’t angry. When she was...

  Lars shuddered. “No, sweetheart, I certainly don’t want you mad at me.”

  Nikki tipped the dark glasses down and peered at him over the top of them. “You really like the wig that much?”

  He’d had a brief fantasy about her wearing it—and only it—when she’d packed it for their UP trip. She’d explained then that she might need to switch places with their client in order to protect Teddie Plummer. That had quickly cooled his interest in the wig.

  He still wasn’t thrilled when Nikki put herself in danger to protect others. But he knew it was as much a part of who she was as her quick wit and intelligence. And because he loved everything about her, he loved that, too. He was just happy that he was sitting close to protect her. He put his hand on her thigh again.

  “You know I love you in everything.” He leaned his head close to hers. “And in nothing at all.”

  “Ew,” Cole said from the front seat. “Break it up. Nobody needs to see that.” He lowered his voice and added, “Especially not me.”

  Nikki slid a little away from Lars. “Especially not the stalker.”

  Lars slid toward her so their thighs touched again. “Or it might be good if he does, might piss him off enough to try for you.”

  “You really think the wig will fool him?” Nikki asked. She glanced down at the clothes she wore. “I don’t look like a little girl playing dress-up?”

  While she was petite and Teddie Plummer was not, Nikki had impressive curves of her own, which she’d displayed in a tight sweater.

  “You definitely don’t look like a little girl,” Lars assured his sexy fiancée. But to his disappointment, Lars only caught glimpses of her figure beneath the long coat she wore. To add some height, she also wore boots with really high heels, so high that she’d had to clutch his arm to steady herself as they’d walked from the cabin to the SUV.

  She’d also carried Teddie’s purse while Cole had carried Teddie’s luggage. Of course, it had all been empty.

  “But do I look like Teddie?” she asked.

  “The stalker couldn’t be close to the cabin or we would have spotted him,” Lars said. “So yeah, from a distance, you could pass for her.”

  Nikki nodded. “I’m hoping that’s true.”

  She really wanted that sick son of a bitch after her rather than their client. Yeah, that was the woman he loved.

  * * *

  The sound of the SUV engine had died out long ago, leaving an eerie silence in the cabin. “They really all left?” Teddie nervously asked.

  She wasn’t worried about her safety. She was worried about being all alone with Jordan Mannes. She had already made a fool of herself when she’d kissed him. She was the one she didn’t trust now. She wasn’t certain what she might do next to him.

  “Not all of them,” Jordan said as he peered through the blinds.

  She stepped up behind him, and his big body tensed. He knew she was there. Did the man have eyes in the back of his head? She peered at his thick, dark hair but could see nothing but temptation. She wanted to touch the strands to see if they were as soft as they looked. She curled her fingers into her palms and leaned closer to the window.

  What she’d seen when she’d peered out earlier had scared her nearly as much as the stalker had. She’d seen Manny talking to Bernard Setters. And for a moment she’d felt betrayed, like she had when the other people she’d thought were her friends had spoken to the infamous tabloid reporter. Actually, she’d felt more betrayed, which was crazy. Jordan Mannes was not her friend. He was her bodyguard.

  And he had proved that when he’d escorted the reporter—a little roughly—to his rental car. How had Bernard found her? How did he ever find her, though?

  Nikki Payne had checked her cell phone and computer and all her other possessions for tracking devices. But the tech expert had declared everything free of bugs. Nobody had put a GPS on Teddie. Yet somehow they always knew where she was. The stalker, the paparazzi...

  She shivered.

  “You’re cold,” Jordan said. “You should step away from the window.”

  But she suspected he wanted her away from him more than from the window. His whole body seemed impossibly tense, like hers. Tension wound so tightly inside her. She couldn’t sit. She couldn’t read.

  She could only worry. About the stalker.

  And about Jordan Mannes.

  She leaned closer, trying to peer over his shoulder. “Who’s out there?” she asked. “I saw all your friends get into that SUV.”

  “Dane.”

  He’d been wearing dark glasses, a hat to hide his supershort hair and Manny’s jacket
. While Lars Ecklund had stood on one side of his fiancée, Dane had stood on the other. They’d been flanking her to fool the stalker into thinking Nikki was Teddie. But she’d thought the giant bodyguards only made the woman look smaller and less like her.

  “Dane left with them,” she said, her voice a little sharp. She hated being lied to. Yes, she would be a fool to trust Jordan Mannes.

  “That’s the impression we wanted to give to whoever’s watching the cabin,” Jordan explained. “But Dane doubled back and is out there. You’re safe.”

  She shook her head. She wouldn’t be safe until her stalker was caught and stopped.

  Jordan turned away from the window and stared down at her. “I promise,” he said, his brown eyes dark and intense. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

  She nodded in appreciation that he would at least try to make her feel better. But she was disappointed that he would make promises he had no way of knowing he could keep. When she turned to walk back to the couch, he caught her arm.

  Even through the thick material of her sweatshirt, she could feel the heat and strength of his fingers. He turned her back to face him. As if he’d read her mind, he said, “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

  “We all do,” she said and tossed out some examples. “‘I’ll call.’ ‘I’ll keep in touch.’”

  He shook his head now. “Not me...”

  And she wondered if he was talking about the promises or keeping in touch. Of course, he’d already warned her that he intended to remain single because he didn’t trust his judgment. It sounded to her like he didn’t trust women. He had trusted Nikki Payne, though.

  “Do you really think this plan will work?” Teddie asked him. “Do you really think the stalker will mistake Nikki for me?”

  He was silent for a long time—so long that she’d figured he didn’t intend to answer her, just stare at her. While Nikki had been getting dressed in her disguise as Teddie, the female bodyguard had warned Teddie about how talkative Manny was. But Teddie had yet to see the garrulousness she’d been warned about.

  Finally he opened his mouth and replied, “I sure as hell hope so.”