by Kris Norris
The steady click of his boots stopped on the other side of the column, his harsh breath whispering close by. She held hers, inching around the column as he slowly picked his way toward the wall, keeping the pillar between them. What happened once he’d checked behind the cars? If he headed toward the door, she’d never be able to stay hidden. It nothing else, he’d see her shadow.
A cold sweat broke out across her skin, dripping down her forehead, despite the near freezing temperature. He was on the other side, about to move past the edge of the column. Bridgette clenched her jaw, waiting for him to suddenly jump out at her, when the garage door started rolling. She startled, barely stopping the scream clawing at her throat from joining the grating sound of metal chains moving along a pulley as the door rose, exposing a flash of light from the street beyond.
The man stopped, quickly walking back the way he’d come. Bridgette moved with him, once again, darting behind the car. Headlights cut through the shadows as the approaching vehicle rounded the corner, pulling into an empty stall just down from where she was crouched against the wall. Music blared through the closed windows then cut off, easy laughter filling the void.
A couple stepped out, still engrossed in conversation as they talked over the top of the car. Bridgette glanced at where she’d last seen the man, but he was gone. Most likely out through the employee door beside the exit ramp.
Her hands shook as she straightened then leaned against the wall, bracing her palms on her knees. A dull roar sounded inside her head, blocking out everything until a hand landed on her shoulder. She jumped, tripping sideways as she swung toward the person, her fist glancing off a torso.
“Whoa, Bridgette. Easy. Christ, it’s just me.”
Air wheezed through her lungs, the steady supply finally clearing her vision. Jeremy stood off to her right, brow furrowed, his lips turned into a frown.
He glanced around then looked back at her. “Are you okay?”
“I thought you’d left?”
The words rushed out, all melding together to form one long incoherent word.
“I got halfway home before I realized I’d left my damn wallet on the counter in the men’s room.” He leaned a bit closer. “Did something happen? You look like a ghost.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing made it past the lump in her throat. She scanned the garage, again, but it appeared like it always had. Deserted. Safe. One of the overhead lights buzzed then winked out, blanketing them in dull gray.
Jeremy reached into his pocket, retrieving his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
“No.” She managed to grasp his wrist—draw his attention. “I’m fine, I’m…”
Just terrified. Nearly died at the hands of a gunman. But I’m fine.
“You don’t look fine.”
She snorted, the aftermath of adrenaline making her shake. “I…”
She paused. While she didn’t think there was any chance Jeremy had been bought—that he could be bought—she’d been fooled before. Betrayed. And she’d promised herself she’d never fall victim to that, again. Better to play it safe until she could talk to Jack. Jack couldn’t be bought, and he wouldn’t ever betray her. It was a given. A knowledge that ran soul deep.
She cleared her throat. “I thought I heard something. Saw someone. But…I must have been imagining it.”
“Do yourself a favor and take a couple of days off. Or a week. But get some rest. You keep going like this and you’ll burn yourself out.” He motioned toward her Jeep. “Can I walk you to your car, now?”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
She moved in beside him as he headed toward her vehicle, still searching the area. But they were definitely alone. Though, for how long…
She stopped when his hand shot out and grabbed her arm, dragging her back a step. She snapped out of her thoughts, following his gaze until it landed on her Jeep. Two perfectly round holes were punched through the windshield, both front tires flat against the concrete.
“Shit.” Jeremy turned toward her. “You still think this is nothing you haven’t dealt with before?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but he was already on his phone, talking to the cops. Bridgette looked toward the exit door, wondering if the guy was on the other side. Waiting. Planning.
It didn’t matter. She’d been given a second chance to get her head out of her ass and make better decisions. Jeremy was right. She needed to distance herself for a while. Stop giving Stevens’ men an easy target. And she knew just where to go.
Montana.
The house her grandmother had left her.
The one still registered in her father’s name. The last place anyone would ever look for her, and the only place she might be safe.
CHAPTER TWO
Livingston, Montana. A few weeks later.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Hayward.” Sam shook the older man’s hand, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ll keep Bridg—”
“What the hell is he doing here?”
Sam paused mid-sentence, twisting to gaze at the woman standing partway down the broad staircase. He didn’t miss the tight press of her lips or the hint of color high on her cheeks. She glared at him as she continued down the stairs, her boots clicking across the old hardware floors as she walked halfway into the parlor. After all this time, he wasn’t sure she’d even remember him—not that he’d forgotten her. He’d tried. He just hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. Though, based on her expression, she remembered him a bit too well.
Her father gave her a wide smile, extending his hand toward Sam. “Ah, Bridgette, just the person I needed to see. This is—”
“Sam Montgomery. Yeah, I know who the jerk is. What I don’t know is why he’s standing in my house.”
Her father frowned. “You two know each other?”
She glared at Sam, crossing her arms over her chest. “I realize it’s been, what…twelve years? But it’s hard to forget your ex-boyfriend, who took you to prom then slept with Jenny Stinson instead of driving you home. So, yeah…we’ve met before.”
“Oh, I see.” George Hayward shifted on his feet, his cheeks turning slightly pink, before he cleared his throat. “It’s been a few years, and I didn’t make the connection with the name. So, I suppose there’s no need for introductions.”
“No. You need to answer my question. What is he doing here?”
The man sighed. “He’s here because it’s been two weeks since you promised me you’d hire a suitable security detail, and you’re still walking around on your own as if nothing’s wrong.”
Her jaw hinged open, and her gaze slid to Sam’s. It swept the length of his body, openly assessing him before settling on his face. Stunning blue eyes stared back at him, the corners creased in irritation. It didn’t take a genius to tell she’d found him lacking, though he wasn’t quite sure in which department. All of them, he supposed, especially if she still believed he’d been a jerk to her all those years ago.
He sighed inwardly. He’d definitely been a jerk in high school. Had more than a few regrets inked across his do-over list—her name right there at the top. But those mistakes were a large part of why he’d become an Army Ranger, and he had to believe he’d changed for the better over the past decade—had become the kind of man she’d proud to know, now. Though, it didn’t mean Bridg would see it that way or that she’d let him explain.
He drew a calming breath, studying the way she stared at him. She wasn’t anything like the shy small-town girl he remembered. Confidence radiated from the firm line of her jaw to the way she held her shoulders back, owning her space. She’d definitely come into her own over the past twelve years. But, despite the change, she couldn’t hide the slight twitch of her mouth, or the way she shifted on her feet, as if she couldn’t quite stand still. The girl was nervous, and he’d bet his ass it wasn’t because he was standing in her house, uninvited.
Bridgette watched him for another few moments before breaking eye contact and glancing at her f
ather “Dad. While I appreciate you’re only trying to help, I’m not a kid, anymore. I’m thirty. I can take care of myself. Have been for some time, now.”
Her father furrowed his brows. “Age doesn’t make you any less my child. Which means, I’m not too old to worry or to want to see you have proper protection.” He turned to address Sam. “See what I’m up against? Death threats. Vandalism. Photographs. And she still thinks it’s all some kind of joke.”
Her expression softened, genuine compassion shaping her eyes. “I never said it was a joke, but it sounds worse than it is. This is just posturing. One of Stevens’ underlings flexing their muscles. Attempting to unnerve me. Knock me off my game or get me to step down from the case. It’s a common tactic with the kind of people I deal with on a daily basis. It’s just their way of trying to intimidate me. But I don’t scare easily.”
She relaxed a bit, leaning her hip against the arm of a chair, but Sam noticed the way her skin paled. She wasn’t being completely honest. He just wasn’t sure if it was regarding the threats she’d received or the way she’d tried to brush them off.
“Besides, all of that happened at work. That’s why I came back to stay here until the court date.” She snorted. “Trust me, no one’s following me to this blip in the map. Livingston, Montana isn’t exactly a tourist mecca, especially this time of year.”
George frowned, turning to Sam as he pointed to his daughter. “Samuel. Please talk to her. Tell her I’m not being some overprotective, helicopter parent. That she should take these threats seriously.”
Sam focused on Bridgette, again. God, she was pretty. More so by the minute, it seemed. Not in a New York model sort of way, but more of a homegrown, girl-next-door kind of beauty. Long, golden hair, smooth, creamy skin with a hint of natural blush, and curves that put any back road in the county to shame, she didn’t strike him as a hot-shot, big-city lawyer who worked for the US Attorney’s office. But, then, he’d learned not to judge people by how they looked—it usually came back to bite him in the ass. And he’d definitely misjudged her all those years ago.
He braced his feet apart, crossing his arms over his chest this time. “Your father’s right. You need to stop being so stubborn.”
Her left eye twitched as she stared at him. “Stubborn? You think this is me throwing a tantrum?”
He shrugged. “Your words, not mine, Bridg. But since you brought it up—I’ve seen the photographs. Read the letters. They aren’t idle threats. And denying help because you don’t want to choke on your pride isn’t a wise choice.”
Her eyes rounded then narrowed as she took a calculated step forward. “Choke on my pride? Who the hell are you to judge me?”
“The guy who deals with this kind of situation on a regular basis. Who might just be able to keep your ass in one piece. That’s if you stop whining long enough to actually listen to what I have to say.”
“Wow. Can we just pretend, for one second, that you’re not a complete jerk?” She spun, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Oh, wait. We both know that’s impossible.”
Bridgette took a few quick steps away, stopping when he lunged forward and hooked her elbow. She hissed out her next breath, wrenching her arm free then palming his chest and giving him a shove. “Don’t touch me.”
“Then, stop acting like a child and running away. We’re not done discussing this.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. This is my house, and you’re not welcome in it.”
“I’m not leaving until you realize how serious this is.”
“First of all, other than the fact this is none of your business, I never said I wasn’t taking it seriously. That’s why I’m here—working out of a drafty home office, with less than stellar internet speed. I’m distancing myself from the case—from my life—to let things cool down a bit. Second… If I still thought my life was in danger, I’d hire a professional bodyguard. One I actually trusted. And third…” She shook a finger at him. “If I freaked out and hired someone every time a defendant threatened me, I’d never live alone. A certain amount of risk comes with the job. That’s just a fact of life.”
A loud ringing sounded in Sam’s head before he inched closer, noting how she tensed from the small step. “If you still thought your life was in danger? Are you implying it’s been in danger, already? Are there incidents you haven’t mentioned? Escalated attacks? And did you just say this isn’t the first time you’ve been overtly threatened on the job?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, though he wasn’t sure if it was in response to his question or the fact he was only a couple feet away from her. “Sam—”
“Answer the question.”
She exhaled, fluttering some strands of hair against her cheek. “I’m an assistant US Attorney. I prosecute people involved in organized crime, including murderers, mafia henchmen, and drug dealers. People who aren’t worried about breaking the law to send me a message. So, yes, I’ve been threatened before—pretty much every case I’ve had for the past couple years. Sometimes, it’s photos. Sometimes vandalism. Or a creepy ass message on my cell. And, every time, I increase my vigilance a little more. Make sure I lock my doors, don’t wander down dark alleys at night.” She quirked her lips. “Don’t pick up strange men at bars and take them home, or go for a run in the park after sunset.” She poked his chest with one delicate finger. “Not a damsel. Don’t need some alpha male to ride to the rescue.”
Sam placed his palm over her finger, pressing her entire hand against him. “Oh, darling. If only I had a dollar for every time a client has assured me they didn’t need my services, I’d be one rich son of a bitch.” He eased away just enough to reach into his pocket and remove an envelope. “Your dad didn’t want to upset you, but he found this on your doorstep shortly after you arrived. It’s the reason he called my employer when you refused to hire protection. Because what’s in here—it’s so much more than some pissed off lackey throwing smoke bombs your way. This—it’s serious.”
She frowned as she took the envelope, staring at it as if it might suddenly burst into flames. “This was on my front step? Here? In Montana?”
“Looks like your little hideout isn’t quite as secret as you thought it was.”
She broke eye contact, thumbing the envelope before turning then walking into the hallway. She paused at the bottom of the stairs then ripped open the end of the envelope. Sam didn’t miss the way her hands shook ever so slightly as she removed the photos stashed inside, slowly shuffling through them.
Bridgette closed her eyes for a moment then glanced over at him. “While it’s…disconcerting that these were sent here, they’re still just more photos of me at work or coming out of my apartment.”
Sam shook his head. “I think the fact your admirer hand delivered them to your house is proof enough that you’re not fooling anyone by holing up in this place.”
“If they really wanted to send a message, they would have sent pictures of me at the general store. Or out running.”
“Damn it, Bridg. This is so much more than what you’ve faced before, and you know it. You just don’t want to admit that maybe, this time, it’s out of your league.”
Bridgette swallowed with effort, worrying her bottom lip before tilting her head and staring at him. “Why are you even here? I thought you joined the military? Became some special ops soldier or Ranger or something.”
Heat burned beneath his skin as scattered memories flashed through his mind, the telltale echo of gunfire and Gray’s voice sounding in his head before he managed to shove the sensations aside. Avoid the gut-wrenching episode that generally followed. Now wasn’t the time to show any weakness, not when he needed Bridgette to understand this wasn’t a prank.
He nodded as he walked over to her. “I did. I’m not anymore. I work for Hank Patterson’s company, Brotherhood Protectors. He hires veterans with…unique skills to provide security services for people who are in difficult situations. And yours is pretty damn difficult.”
Sh
e eyed him, again, looking even more unhappy with whatever she found, this time. “While that’s all very interesting, I’m positive you have to be hired by the person with the ‘difficult situation’ before you get to provide your services. And I’m not hiring you.”
“You don’t have to. Your father already paid Hank in full.” He smiled. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
A deep flush slashed across her cheeks, as her breathing roughened. “Fine. You want to be my bodyguard? You can watch my every move—from the road. Anything else will be considered trespassing. And I happen to know a kick-ass attorney.”
Sam clenched his jaw, mentally counting to ten before blowing out a steady breath. Obviously, reasoning with her wasn’t going to work—not when she was upset and making decisions based on her emotions. Ones he knew were largely because of him. Ancient history that turned out, wasn’t quite ancient enough. But it seemed intimidating her wasn’t an option, either. Not that he’d intentionally tried to. It was merely a go-to tactic leftover from his military days. But she wasn’t a new recruit. In fact, he’d be lying to himself if he said her tenacious spirit didn’t impress the hell out of him. This was obviously the lawyer side of her. The part that never backed down, and damn, he could only imagine how ruthless she was in the courtroom.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot, here. Maybe we could start, again.” He held out his hand. “Hey, Bridgette, it’s great to see you, even if it is under unfortunate circumstances. You and I need to talk.”
She frowned, glancing at his hand then back to his face. “I appreciate your concern, but like I said—I don’t need protection.”
Her father cleared his throat, gaining her attention. “While it’s apparent you two have history, it’s not worth getting yourself killed over.”
“Your father’s right. Dying isn’t an option. Besides, he already told me this house is in his name. Which means, he decides whether I stay or not.”
