Bodyguard Reunion

by Beverly Long

“Perhaps I should step out,” Royce said.

  She felt a pain near her heart. The emphasis was intentional. It had to be. It settled the question of whether he remembered their last meeting, eight years ago. The one where she’d ask him to step out for just a moment.

  So that she could have a conversation with her father.

  Which had ultimately led to her staying in New York and Royce returning to Texas.

  What the hell was he doing in Vegas?

  Chapter 2

  “That’s...not necessary,” she said.

  Her delivery was clipped. He’d hit a nerve.

  It should have felt better. “Tell me about the death threat,” he said.

  She tucked a wayward piece of hair behind her delicate ear, a gesture so familiar that it was as if he’d seen it yesterday rather than eight years ago. She looked tired. And when she’d rounded the corner of the couch, he’d seen the slightest hint of a limp, as if her scraped leg might be sore.

  All of that pulled at his gut and he reminded himself of all the reasons that he had to be mad at her.

  “There have been three letters,” she said.

  “Three,” he repeated. “I thought you said threat. Singular.”

  She waved a hand dismissively and he noticed that she wasn’t wearing any rings. Eight years ago, she’d told him she was marrying another. And like some idiot, he’d set up an alert on his computer, so that when it happened, he could rub his own damn nose in the happy news. And sure enough, four months after he’d stormed out of her father’s house, his computer had practically blown up with news media reporting on the marriage of Juliana Cambridge to Bryson Wagoner.

  After that night, he’d stopped looking, stopped hoping that she was going to magically wake up one day and decide that she’d been a fool.

  He’d been the fool.

  “Three letters,” she said, bringing him back. “I think they’re all from the same person.”

  “Is that what the police say?” he asked, looking over at Barry, who was back to wringing his hands together.

  “They can’t say conclusively,” Barry said. “But there is a similarity in tone between the documents. But they were postmarked in different cities.”

  “What cities?”

  “Boston, New York and Vegas,” Barry said. “In that order. All arriving within the last month.”

  “Yet you still decided that attending a conference in Vegas was a good idea?” he asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his tone. This was probably why contracting new business was generally up to Rico. Diplomacy came naturally to him. Royce had to work very hard at it.

  Jules—he could not think of her as JC—sat up straighter on the couch. She was wearing a light blue sweater and a matching blue-and-black-checked skirt with black tights. She looked very much like the pretty young girl he’d taken to dinner that first night, except then she’d been animated and now she was controlled, her somewhat pointed chin almost rigid.

  “The last one arrived in our New York office just yesterday, after we’d already arrived here.”

  “Yet you stayed.”

  “We’re a major sponsor of the conference. I’m part of a panel presentation tomorrow and then speaking at the awards dinner two days from now.”

  That would be Thursday. “How big of an event?”

  “Couple hundred.”

  Lots of people to watch. Lots of potential threats. “Do you have any of the letters with you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. Barry stood up. “I have copies,” he said. The man picked up a briefcase that had been on the floor, leaning against a wall. He opened it and pulled out papers.

  “This is the first one. Like I said, from Boston.”

  Royce took it. One sheet. It appeared the sender had cut letters or portions of words out of a magazine and strung them together in a simple poem.

  Pills and potions

  A witch’s brew.

  Danger comes to those

  Who lay claim to the stew.

  He took the second sheet. Same look, a different four-line verse.

  Those who cause death

  Must be made to pay.

  I will have justice

  And ensure He has his say.

  Was H capped in the fourth line for a reason? Or had the sender simply not been able to locate a lowercase H?

  A cap suggested importance. Or respect. Ensure He has his say. Ensure who had their say? A tightness settled in his shoulders. Revenge was a powerful motivation.

  He picked up the third. The one that had come most recently, from Vegas.

  You will beg for mercy

  I will enjoy witnessing your pain.

  The world will know the truth

  That your greed was a runaway train.

  He read it a second time and then tossed it aside. The idea that these letters had been directed at Jules made him sick. “You have no idea who sent these?”

  She shook her head no. “The police are investigating. As you probably know, they can test paper and ink and even trace it back to the original publication. All we know is that whoever sent this has access to twenty-weight copy paper sold in almost every big-box store in America, and People magazine. Miatroth products are distributed across the United States and in many other countries. Millions take a Miatroth drug every day. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “But they upped the ante last night when somebody took a swipe at you?” he said.

  “Somebody maybe took a swipe at me,” she said. “I have my doubts. I think it’s very possible that it was somebody who was texting and suddenly realized they’d veered off course. Fortunately, they corrected. Or it was somebody who’d been drinking and wasn’t their best at driving in a straight line.”

  She could be right. People were idiots in their cars, seemingly forgetting that they were in control of several tons of moving equipment. “But they didn’t stop.”

  “They didn’t hit anyone. No reason to stop.”

  “There are very few coincidences in real life,” Royce said. She could have been badly injured. Somebody should have been there to protect her. Why wasn’t Bryson Wagoner with his wife after she’d received the first two threats? “Is your...husband traveling with you?” he asked, finding it hard, even after all these years, to say the word.

  Jules licked her lips. “No husband. I’m divorced.”

  He felt almost light-headed. Divorced. He shouldn’t be shocked. Lots of people were divorced. But for some reason, it wasn’t what he’d expected from Jules.

  He had a thousand questions.

  Most of them inappropriate. “Recently?” he asked. An enraged former spouse was always a security concern.

  She shook her head. “Six years ago.”

  He worked really hard to keep his expression neutral. His head was spinning. That meant...hell, she’d been married for less than eighteen months. “What’s your relationship with...him?” He knew his name. Bryson Wagoner. Appropriate since the man had needed a damn wagon to carry all his family money.

  “Fine,” Jules said.

  Fine. What the hell did that mean? The silence in the room stretched out.

  “Well, what do you think?” Barry Wood asked.

  He thought that very little surprised him anymore, but Jules had knocked his socks off. He thought his heart was beating too fast. He thought she was still the most beautiful woman that he’d ever met. “I think you’re right to be concerned,” Royce said.

  “We appreciate your opinion.” If possible, Jules’s jaw was even tighter, and her lips barely moved when she spoke.

  “It’s what I do,” he said, suddenly defensive. He and his partners were damn good at providing security. They had celebrities, politicians—hell, eve
n some royalty—on their client list. A pharmaceutical CEO was nothing.

  But that wasn’t true. Jules Cambridge had never been nothing. Royalty in her own right, she’d been her father’s little princess.

  And in contrast, he’d been the commoner, who should have been content to stay outside the walls of the Fifth Avenue fortress, admiring from afar.

  He’d been so damn stupid.

  “Will you help us?” Barry asked.

  There was no way.

  Jules stood up, her movement jerky. “Barry, we need to discuss this. I can assure you that Royce is not going to be interested in providing the service.”

  That was exactly what he’d been thinking. She had no right to take away his opportunity to turn her down. And it irritated the hell out of him to hear her say it so matter-of-fact.

  She could take her business down the street. There were other security agencies in Vegas. A couple that were very decent. Not as good as Wingman Security, that was true. If only one of his other partners was available, he could refer her internally, but that wasn’t the case.

  Jules was in trouble. You will beg for mercy. I will enjoy witnessing your pain. “Actually, it’s your lucky day,” he said, his gaze steady on her.

  She opened her mouth.

  “What you two need to do,” he said, switching his eyes to Barry, “is lock the door behind me. Don’t open it to anyone but me. Can you manage that?”

  Barry nodded.

  “Good. Then I’ll be back within the hour with my clothes and a contract.”

  Chapter 3

  “I’m sorry, JC,” Barry said, just seconds after the door closed behind Royce. “But I’m confused. You look very upset. I thought we’d agreed.”

  She managed to smile at the man. She understood that he was worried. “I suspect you’re thinking that one hell of a slam is coming.”

  Barry settled back against the cushions. “That was quite a night. You stalked off to your bedroom, your nose in the air. And it was a ferocious slam. Knocked the trim right off the frame.”

  “All because I couldn’t go to a Metallica concert. I was fifteen.”

  “Your father hated to disappoint you but he hated the idea of you getting hurt even more,” Barry said.

  She was eighteen years older now. And while she hadn’t been able to understand her father’s motivations at the time, she did understand Barry’s now. She also understood the very real business reasons behind them. There was a twenty-million-dollar insurance policy on her life. As a result, they’d had to report the threats to the insurance company and they were insisting on added security.

  So she had quietly acquiesced. Never dreaming that Royce would walk through the door.

  Barry would have had no way of knowing about the relationship. After all, by almost anyone’s standards, it had been rather short-lived. And her father, if he had deemed it necessary to discuss Royce with Barry, would have only referred to him as Juliana’s summer indulgence. As best she could remember, he had never called Royce by name.

  But he’d known his name and he would remember his name. It was the one way that she could very easily get Royce kicked off the job. If she mentioned it to her father, the man would immediately demand that Royce be replaced. He’d call his good friend Barry and that would be that.

  And she’d be responsible, again, for causing trouble for Royce.

  It was a few days. If they were indeed the best, that’s what she wanted, right?

  She did not believe that the car last night had deliberately tried to kill her. If so, why back off? But the letters were not so easily dismissed. In a world where crazy things seemed to happen more and more often, the idea that somebody had come unhinged and was intent upon causing trouble for the CEO of a drug company was not a comfortable one. She’d been all for reporting them to the police.

  She was all for staying safe.

  She certainly didn’t want anybody on her team to get injured because she couldn’t get past history.

  Plus, she had a very good reason for staying in Vegas. Family. She hadn’t told Barry, didn’t intend to. Knew it would get back to her father, and there was no way she was ready to have that conversation yet.

  “It’s fine, Barry. We’ll make the best of it.”

  Royce had said he was coming back with clothes. Which meant that he intended to stay with her.

  There were two bedrooms in the suite. Plenty of space.

  Right. When he’d run back to Texas and she’d stayed in New York, that had barely been a comfortable distance.

  “I’m going to get some work done,” she said, “before Royce comes back.”

  “I’ll stay,” Barry said.

  She shook her head. “It’s not necessary. Go back to your own room and get some rest. I don’t think either one of us got much sleep last night.”

  “You heard Royce.”

  “I know, I know. I won’t open the door to strangers. I promise.”

  Barry stood up. “I appreciate you going along with this. I really do.”

  “I appreciate that you haven’t said anything to my dad about the threats.” She’d asked him not to and he’d reluctantly agreed. Of course, he had no way of knowing how strained her current relationship was with her father. For so many reasons, some known only to her.

  “I won’t as long as we’re doing everything in our power to keep you safe. I’m not underestimating how uncomfortable it might be to have a shadow 24/7. But you know your safety is important to me. For a lot of reasons.”

  She reached for his age-spotted hand. Squeezed it. “I know that it might be highly improper for the CEO to say this to the chairman of the board, but I love you.”

  He smiled. “You’ve always been like a daughter to Eileen and me.”

  “I know.” She walked him to the door and locked it securely after he left. Then she stood with her spine against the door, feeling the wood press against every one of her vertebrae.

  Eight years ago, she’d made a bad decision for what she thought were all the right reasons.

  And after he’d stormed out of her father’s house, she’d tried to forget about the hurt in Royce Morgan’s eyes. The hurt she’d caused.

  It hadn’t been easy. Even though she’d thrown herself into her work, into planning her wedding.

  And then into her marriage.

  Her short, disastrous marriage.

  Royce had looked shocked when she’d said she was divorced. He hadn’t known. But now that he did, would he demand an explanation? Would he think he was still entitled to one? Or would he not care enough to even ask? She wasn’t sure which question scared her more.

  The only answer was to keep it strictly professional between the two of them, to not even venture into conversations that could take on a personal bent. To avoid a trip down a memory lane that was blighted by deep potholes full of deceit and regret.

  She walked over to the table and picked up the folder that Barry had tried to show her earlier. Skimmed the executive summary that had likely been prepared by Barry’s assistant. It hit the high points of three different Vegas agencies and ended up with a paragraph that supported the recommendation of Wingman Security.

  Elite security team. Top-notch references. Impressive clientele. Professional demeanor.

  There was a handwritten note. “A little more expensive than the others, but consensus is, they’re worth it.” She didn’t recognize the writing.

  That’s probably what had swayed Barry. He was nicer about it but came from the same school of thought as her father. If it cost more, it must be better.

  Royce had clearly made a success of himself. And security made sense. She remembered him telling her that’s what he’d done in the military.

  He’d been a decent and principled young man, althoug
h there were times when those qualities had been overshadowed by his beat-up leather jacket and motorcycle boots, his hair that was long enough to pull back in a ponytail and his language that was likely appropriate for the battlefield but not the boardroom.

  He’d been different than anyone she’d ever met.

  Now he was wearing silk pants, shirts with monogrammed cuffs and Italian shoes.

  Time had changed them both. Things had been said. Actions taken. There was no going back.

  Only forward. And the best thing she could do was try to get a few things done before Royce returned. Her laptop was still in her bedroom. She pulled herself away from the door.

  As she crossed the threshold of her bedroom, she heard a buzz from the cell phone that she’d left on her bed. She glanced at the number and let out a sigh of relief. Charity was finally calling back.

  “Hi,” she said, trying to sound casual. “How’s it going?” Their relationship was too new, too fragile, for her to chastise the young woman about taking a full day to return the call.

  “Not so good,” Charity said, her voice barely a whisper.

  “What’s wrong?” JC asked, picking up her pen. She always thought more clearly when she had something to write with.

  “Nothing.”

  Charity sounded...bad. Not that JC had that much experience talking to her. This was only their second conversation in two months. “I was hoping we could meet for lunch,” JC said.

  “That’s probably not a good idea,” Charity said.

  No way. She was not going to let Charity blow off the meeting. She’d told Royce that she’d come because Miatroth was a major sponsor and she was presenting. That was true, of course. But the real reason she’d agreed to attend was that it gave her a reason to be in Vegas, an opportunity to get to know Charity better.

  A woman should know her sister.

  “I won’t take no for an answer,” she said, still keeping her tone light.

  There was silence on the other end. Then a sigh. “Listen,” Charity said. “I’m in trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?” JC asked, clenching her pen.

  “The kind I don’t want to talk about on a cell phone. Can you come here?”