Trusting the Bodyguard

by Kimberly Van Meter

  He mopped away the water dripping from his face with a paper towel and threw it away before answering. “I’m sorry for a lot of things,” he conceded, surprising her. “But I’m mostly sorry for the things I said this morning. I was out of line.”

  “Yes, you were,” she agreed, lifting her chin against the aggrieved look he sent her. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him. He deserved to squirm a bit. “Go on.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “You want to come and sit down so we can talk it over?”

  She hoisted Jenna on her hip. “Not really. What I’d like to do is walk out that front door and forget I ever had any feelings for you.”

  His expression darkened for a moment and she sensed she’d hit a very raw nerve. It was mean of her to poke like that but she was still raw herself. Feeling the ghost of her mother chiding her from beyond the grave, she gritted her teeth and counted to ten so she could talk without wanting to scream at him…or worse, just break down and cry some more.

  “Fair enough,” he said, sighing even as he looked away for a moment. “Listen, I just want to say I had no right to jump all over you like that. I don’t know what came over me…I just reacted and I’m really ashamed of my behavior.”

  That was something. And she believed him. One thing Archer had never been, and she didn’t think he’d change colors overnight, was a liar. His admission went a long way toward thawing the ice she felt creeping up around her heart. But even though he apologized, the words were still there hanging between them and Marissa didn’t know how to dispel their lingering poison.

  “Did you mean what you said about…just wanting to relive old times?” she asked, hating that her voice came out sounding small and pathetic, but truly, it’s how she felt because his answer meant so much to her.

  He appeared conflicted and the insides of her stomach dropped. She almost didn’t want to hear his answer. If he said yes, it would destroy what she’d thought was happening between them; if he said no, it would make her want something that had already been proven to fail. It was a lose-lose situation for them both. Why the hell did she ask such a dumb question?

  He came toward her and she was tempted to bolt but her feet remained rooted. Jenna looked up at Archer and grinned, grabbing at his face with a chubby hand and suddenly leaning out of Marissa’s arms toward him.

  Archer’s expression surely mirrored her own as Jenna went happily into his arms. She gurgled and in her own language said quite a lot but to them it only sounded like adorable gibberish. Marissa looked at Archer and shook her head, confused as he was. “She’s never that open with people,” Marissa said. “I mean, she screamed any time Ruben ever got near her and she’s just not the kind of baby who willingly goes to strangers. Here, I’ll take her,” she offered but as Marissa reached for Jenna, the baby twisted away and held on to Archer.

  “Jenna?” Marissa stared, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  Archer held the baby, at first as if she were going to morph into something dangerous, then as she babbled, looking up at him with those beautifully dark eyes, he softened and Marissa hitched in a painfully tight breath. She’d never seen him around children, not like this. Jenna fit in his arms as though she was his own. “She’s fine,” he said, moving to the sofa to sit. He held her as if she were fine china, full of wonder at the softness of her skin and the silky hair that fell from her head in a black cloud. He glanced at Marissa. “You know…I never realized how much she looks like you,” he said, settling Jenna against his chest, where she remained, completely content, even giving Marissa a drooly grin as if to say, Stop worrying, Tía.

  “Well, Mercedes and I looked a lot alike,” Marissa conceded, yet her heart warmed that Archer would notice.

  Archer shook his head. “I never thought you and your sister looked a thing alike.”

  “Oh?”

  “Nope. No offense but your sister had a hard edge to her that distracted from her good looks. When she looked at you, I got the feeling she was sizing you up into two classes that basically answered one question—What can you do for me? You never had that look.”

  “She wasn’t always like that,” Marissa murmured, fighting against the ache that she knew was just grief in another form. But Archer was right. Mercedes had changed into someone who was exactly like that. Except toward the end. Marissa liked to think if she hadn’t died…

  “When we were growing up, she was the one who was always looking out for me,” Marissa said, propping her head on her crooked elbow against the sofa cushion, willing to share a few good memories of her sister if only to deflect away from the conversation they should’ve been finishing. “You know we grew up on the bad side of Oakland. There were a lot of gangs and staying out of trouble was harder than you’d think. I was picked on, bullied, beat up a few times, Mercedes always had my back. And it wasn’t easy for her. She took a couple hits that probably should’ve been mine but she never complained. Never said a word.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “She did what she could but she worked two jobs to keep a roof over our heads. She counted on the fact that we’d take care of each other. She wasn’t there to help with homework, sign permission slips, or pack lunches. Mercedes did that for me.”

  “Who did it for Mercedes?” he asked.

  Marissa shook her head. “No one. I wonder sometimes if her life would’ve turned out different if she hadn’t had to spend all her time and energy on me. That’s why I couldn’t turn my back on her when things started to get bad with Ruben. She’d given me so much, helped me get to college and start a new life that didn’t begin in that place we grew up. I couldn’t just walk away.”

  “I understand why you felt obligated,” he said but she quickly corrected him.

  “No. It wasn’t obligation. It was love. I loved her so much for giving me a chance to succeed. I wanted to be there for her like she was for me. But she started to change. The lifestyle made her different. And you know the rest.”

  He digested the information silently, then said, “You’re a good person. And I’m really sorry for saying what I said earlier. Can you forgive me?”

  Of course she could. She probably already had but she wondered where they went from here. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him until she saw him again. That yearning flared alive quick and bright, hot and dangerous. And now there was this mess with Ruben. And the fact that she’d stolen a child and, Lord help her, possibly killed a man. Their obstacles went way beyond her penchant for stability. In the face of these new problems, her reasons for pushing him away three years ago seemed like child’s play.

  “Did I say something wrong?” he asked, concern pulling at his brows. Jenna swiveled her little head to stare at Marissa, too.

  “No. You said everything right,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I…I don’t know. I just think my head is a mess right now. I should tell you what I was going to tell you when this whole argument started.”

  “Okay.”

  She drew a deep breath. “I don’t regret last night. At first I thought I did but after I got over my initial reaction I realized I didn’t regret it at all. What upset me was the realization that I threw away our relationship and there was no going back. Not even if I wanted to,” she said, looking up quickly to gauge his reaction.

  “Are you saying you want to try again?” he asked carefully.

  “I’m saying I wish that we could but now it’s impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I would never want to start a relationship under these circumstances. Even if we didn’t have a mountain of baggage from the past, there’s all this new garbage to deal with and when I say garbage I don’t think I need to remind you that I’m talking about a drug lord whose baby I stole. I’m most definitely facing kidnapping charges, not to mention first-degree murder if this all goes south. I wouldn’t want to drag you through that with me. I won’t have your life trashed because mine is.”

  “Why do women say one thing
and mean another?” he asked, startling her with his question.

  “You lost me.”

  “And you lost me about ten minutes ago. All I heard was you want to get back together but you don’t want to get back together because we have baggage and your life is a mess.”

  “Yeah…what’s confusing about that?”

  “Everything, woman,” he said, further shocking her with a grin. He switched Jenna to his other knee and then leaned in and pulled Marissa to him in one motion. Then he planted his lips against hers in a move that sent warm tingles dancing down to her toes. “You’re stuck with me for the time being so just stop worrying about the stuff that we can’t do a thing about,” he said against her lips, tickling the soft flesh there. He pulled away and she missed the contact already. “First things first. We figure out how to keep your pretty ass out of prison for taking off with this little princess. Second, we deal with our baggage. But, don’t worry, we’ve got our hands too full with the first task to get into the second right away, so chill.”

  “Chill?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you ever known me to do that?”

  He didn’t even need to give it thought. “Nope. But I know you’re a quick study. You’ll figure it out.”

  She laughed and a weight lifted from her chest that she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying around. It wasn’t a solution exactly, but it was a start. And at least she didn’t have to leave, which was a good thing. She had nowhere else to go.

  “Listen, I have an idea,” he said, surprising her into a wary smile from the warmth shining from his eyes. She’d gladly spend a lifetime basking in the light of that heat if he’d let her, she mused with a private sigh of longing and desire that felt good to acknowledge. When Archer realized she was waiting for him to continue, he said, “I say we take Josh’s offer up on the barbecue and pretend like we’re both normal for an evening.” She started to protest at his implication but he silenced her with a quick kiss that took her breath away in spite of its brevity in order to continue, “We’ll drink a beer, eat hamburgers and hot dogs and Mary’s potato salad. We’ll listen to Mary’s gossip and secretly be grateful that we’re on Mary’s good side and we’ll just enjoy…being normal. It’ll be a nice change of scenery.”

  “I’m normal,” she muttered, frowning.

  “You’re far from normal,” he disagreed amiably. “But that’s okay. You’re in pretty good company.”

  At that she smiled but it faded as she considered the situation she was in. “Josh is bound to ask questions. What will we say? I’m a terrible liar,” she said, worrying her bottom lip as she thought of her unfortunate tendency to fidget when she lied.

  “He won’t,” Archer assured her, his grin telling her he agreed with her admission. “I’ve already given him the CliffsNotes. Beyond that he won’t ask unless you feel up to sharing. Josh is good that way.”

  She looked up at him and lost herself for a moment in the depth of his eyes and the well of concern she saw there. Drawing a deep breath she offered a tentative smile. “Okay,” she said, and then with more conviction as she warmed to the idea, added, “You know…you might be right. A barbecue with friends might be wonderful. Let’s do it.”

  “Good. You and the baby go get ready while I call Josh.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  JOSH MET THEM AT THE door of his parents’ house with an offering of a beer for Archer, which he accepted with a grateful nod. Archer was about to run the gauntlet known as Mary Halvorsen and he’d need a little something to keep him from cowering like a whipped dog.

  He didn’t have long to wait, either. Mary appeared from the kitchen, a thunderous expression on her face, wielding a spatula in her hand as if it was a whipping stick, and Archer knew he was about to get his ass chewed. The sick thing? He was totally looking forward to it.

  “Archer Brant, I’ve half a mind to kick your sorry behind out of my house for abandoning your family during your little pity-party instead of taking your licks like a man. Disappearing like that! Not one word of where you were or what you were doing…I worried myself sick to death wondering if you were lying in a ditch somewhere dying or worse. I didn’t feed and clothe you, and go toe-to-toe with that fool-headed principal for constantly trying to expel you your senior year just for you to repay my hard work and loving attention tossing it away like that. You hear me, boy? I won’t stand for it. Manners don’t lose their place just because you’re too big to whup.” She pointed her spatula at him with a narrowed stare and added, “What have you got to say for yourself?”

  He smothered a grin because for all her mean-eyed lecturing, he knew she was happy to see him and it was the knowledge that he meant something to this family that sobered him appropriately. “I’ve missed you, too, Mrs. H.,” he said. “No one makes potato salad like you. And that’s the God’s honest truth. Can you forgive me for being an idiot?”

  “Of course I can,” she said, breaking into a wide grin before gathering him into her arms, pressing him against her large bosom as if she’d given birth to him, same as her three boys. “This town hasn’t been the same without you, dear. My boys have gone and become respectable, you know. Now there’s no one to keep the deputies busy,” she said playfully as she pulled away. It was then that she noticed Marissa and Jenna waiting behind him. She gave him a healthy pat on the cheek and then pushed him out of the way, gesturing with a warning. “Stay out of that potato salad until it’s time to eat. Now, who do we have here? You must be Marissa, Archer’s former fiancée.” Marissa startled and her gaze flew to Archer, but before he could interject, Mary had hustled Marissa toward the kitchen with a delighted expression that Archer realized too late signaled trouble. Marissa had been worried about the wrong Halvorsen doing the digging.

  Josh laughed and pulled a reluctant Archer toward the porch where everyone else was gathered, saying, “Sorry, bud. Mom’s got her now. You should’ve known better.”

  Archer chuckled. Yeah…he should’ve.

  MARISSA DIDN’T KNOW what to think of this buxom, stout woman but there was something about her that she liked, even if she was a little wary.

  “I love a good story,” Mary said, grabbing a box of Bisquick and shaking out a healthy portion for what Marissa assumed would be a fresh batch of biscuits. “I suspect yours is worth telling,” she surmised with a knowing smile. “Of course, you don’t have to share if you’re not comfortable but I hate a mystery and I’m bound to find out anyway so fair warning.”

  “What makes you think I have a good story?” Marissa hedged, shifting Jenna on her hip, watching as Mary pounded the dough and then rolled it out with an efficiency that spoke of years of practice.

  “The bruise for one. And I know Archer didn’t give it to you because he’s not that kind of man. I practically raised him, you know.”

  “Yes, Archer mentioned you were very kind to him,” she murmured. “And you’re right. Archer would never hit a woman.”

  Mary punched perfectly round biscuits from the dough. “See? I knew your story was one worth listening to. Start at the beginning, dear. And don’t leave anything out.”

  At first Marissa didn’t have any inclination to share the sordid details of the past seventy-two hours but there was something oddly cathartic and soothing about sharing her burden with Mary Halvorsen. She left out the part where she sold her dignity to Ruben for her niece but Marissa could tell by the quiet contemplation on Mary’s face that the older woman knew she was sanitizing certain details and it was okay.

  “So even though he has no reason to care, Archer has taken us in for the time being,” Marissa concluded, drawing a deep breath as she finished. She waited for Mary’s response but Mary took the time to attend to her biscuits as if she needed a moment to digest everything Marissa had shared, and Marissa felt a frisson of worry that she’d made a mistake.

  Mary pulled the biscuits, golden brown, from the oven and paused to take an appreciative sniff before placing them on the counter to cool. She
replaced her oven mitt on the hook by the stove and then faced Marissa with the fiercest look in her eyes.

  “That man you’re running from deserves to have his testicles sheared off and fried,” she said, shaking her head. “Some people are just born bad. I’m sorry you’re caught up in all this. You seem like a good person. I’m not sure what we can offer you right now aside from support and a hot meal but I hope this situation works itself out and you can put it all behind you.”

  Marissa’s eyes watered. “Thank you. Me, too.”

  Laughter drifted in from outside as the guys traded jokes, stories, or whatever else that men do when they’re left to their own devices and Mary smiled brightly, effectively ending the somber tone of the previous conversation, by announcing, “Time to eat!”

  And suddenly, Marissa was starved and couldn’t agree more.

  IT WAS LATE BY THE time they returned to Archer’s place and fatigue pulled at Marissa’s eyelids. She’d spent the evening listening to Josh and Mary recount tales of Archer’s penchant for trouble and laughed as Archer’s cheeks reddened a little bit more with each story. She found it highly ironic that he went into the military when he obviously had had such issues with authority as a kid. She’d chatted with Josh’s wife, Tasha, about seemingly suburban topics such as kids, jobs and current movies playing in theaters and it was wonderful.

  Archer had been right. Doing something that smacked of normal had provided relief from the tension and fear that kept her insides tied in a knot and she was sorry to see it end.

  Marissa tucked Jenna into bed and then after washing her face and changing, she found herself outside Archer’s door. She placed her hand on the wood, hesitant to knock yet not quite willing to end the night just yet.

  What was she saying by standing there? She closed her eyes briefly, knowing full well what it said and her heart rate tripped a beat. She knocked softly.