She cleared her throat. “I’m really sorry. I was hateful and rude.”
He looked at her again, and after a moment said, “Okay.”
“Good night.” Alexa closed the door and promptly readied for bed. She pulled the covers to her eyeballs and began to bawl. God please help me. I don’t want to be like this.
What was wrong? Maybe Jamison was right about the note, but somehow it felt like it went a lot deeper than that.
Chapter Seven
Jamison left her alone on Friday morning, evidently deciding to stick to the rule for his own self-preservation. Alexa hid out in her room. She felt no better today. Each paragraph in the book took half an hour to write. What was wrong with her?
Alexa felt increasingly edgy, and it all culminated in a knot in her stomach. She felt constricted, like she was under house arrest. In prison. Anger with the faceless note writer festered. The thought that it might be Eve made it all the more intolerable. So did Jamison’s cool politeness. And his very presence. But why did it seem worse now, all of a sudden?
Maybe it was because she could never escape her bodyguard. The fact that they didn’t get along was the least of her problems. She couldn’t concentrate with him watching television…or breathing…in the next room. Or maybe the tension she felt was a result of everything steadily building up over the last week; their fights, the threats…
Alexa couldn’t take it another moment. At eleven o’clock, she bolted from her self-imposed solitary confinement into the living area. She needed tea. No. She needed to escape.
Alexa stood in the tiny kitchen, stirring her tea bag and plotting. If only she could get an hour away by herself. Maybe a walk outside in the clear, brisk air would clear her head. She could explore a little more of the fabulous city of Paris. Maybe then she could think and the words would flow again.
Where was Jamison? She popped a quick glance over her shoulder. He was watching television and restlessly moving his shoulders. Sitting all day must be hard on him. Although he worked out in the morning, he spent the rest of the day caged up with her.
Alexa was beginning to feel like a hamster, too. She had to take action. The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Eve must be behind the threatening notes. Eve wanted to frighten Alexa into going home so she could have Colin for herself.
Why should Alexa stay cooped up in the flat when the notes were probably fakes?
No reason at all.
A plan formulated. A slow smile tugged at Alexa’s lips, and for the first time, the late afternoon Parisian sun streaming through the windows touched her soul, too.
Grinning, Alexa retreated to her room and shut the door. How good it felt to smile, and to anticipate freedom.
Quickly, she dialed her sister’s number and waited for her to pick up.
“Hello?”
“It’s me, Alexa. I need a favor.” Quickly, she detailed her request.
“Alexa…” Her sister did not sound happy.
“I’ll pay you back.”
“It’s not that.”
“You care about my mental well-being, don’t you?” she pleaded.
“Yes, but…”
“Please, Beth. Just this once.”
Her sister reluctantly agreed. Alexa tucked her passport and money into her pockets. Then she returned to the kitchen under the ruse that she had forgotten her tea. Not that Jamison paid any attention.
The phone rang. “I’ll get it!” Alexa pounced on it. “Hello? You want Jamison? Whom may I say is calling?” To her glee, Jamison turned toward her with a questioning look. She held out the phone. “It’s for you. A woman. She wouldn’t give her name.”
He frowned. “A woman?” It deepened as he tried to figure out who it could be.
“Would you like to take it in private?” she asked helpfully, plopping onto a chair beside the phone. She sipped her tea, as if planning to stay awhile.
He still looked puzzled. “Yes.” He disappeared into his room and shut the door.
Alexa sprinted for the front door. She slipped out, held her breath while the catch clicked shut, then dashed for the stairs. She took them fast and then was free, out the lobby door and into the sunshine.
Fresh, clean, free air! Alexa gulped it greedily, but continued her fast pace down the road. She didn’t want Jamison to catch her. She turned several corners, and then slowed down. Good thing she had worn sneakers today. Excellent for running. She smiled to herself. It felt fantastic to be free. Like a great weight had rolled off of her spirit.
She took long strides, putting as much distance between her and the luxury apartment building as possible, and in moments found herself on Rue Cler. By accident or design? Perfect, either way. She had wanted to buy Swiss cheese. Now she could.
A man bumped her elbow. “Excuse me,” she said. He didn’t glance at her, just hurried on. She stopped and gazed in the window of a shop named Gourmand Chocolats Confiseries. A whiff of chocolate tantalized her nose, and she sighed with rapture. She loved chocolate.
An older woman stopped beside her. “Don’t they look delicious?”
Alexa offered a smile. An American. Until now, she hadn’t realized how homesick she had been feeling. “I’m trying to control myself,” she admitted.
“With your figure you can afford to eat a few,” the stranger said. “Me, I’m a little dumpy and dowdy.”
“No. Of course you’re not,” Alexa rushed to reassure her.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, aren’t you that woman who hooked up with that singer? Colin somebody.”
Alexa flushed. “You must be mistaken.”
“Margie’s never mistaken.” The man’s voice came from behind her. An uncomfortable sensation wiggled down Alexa’s spine. She froze.
“Who’s Colin?” she improvised, edging left.
“We’ve been following you,” the woman smiled. “We adore Colin. Since you’re an American, we figure you’ll introduce us to him. Since you’re friends and all.”
Alexa’s heart beat faster. Colin did have a lot of fans. And the death threats had continued here. Were these two behind them? Obviously, they had been stalking Alexa from the apartment building. She had never even suspected.
Somehow, she had to escape.
“If you’re fans, I’m sure he’d be delighted to meet you. Why don’t you call his manager? Give him your names and number so he can set up an appointment.”
The man grabbed a painful hunk of her hair. “You are our appointment.”
Alexa gasped with fright and viciously kicked the man’s knee. When he cried out, the woman rushed forward. A knife glinted in her hand. The blade arced toward Alexa, sparkling in the sunlight.
Alexa screamed and threw up her hands to cover her face. A sudden clatter hit the cobblestones. Just as fast, the man’s grip released her. She opened her eyes.
A muscular man in black wrestled the woman to the ground. Swiftly, he snapped on handcuffs.
“Jamison!” Never had she been so glad to see someone. She glanced quickly about. “The man. He’s gone!”
Jamison hoisted the woman to her feet by the armpit. His face looked pale beneath his tan, and black eyes bored into hers. “We are going to have a serious talk.” He snapped open his cell phone and placed a call, apparently to the police, if her high school French was still accurate.
As they headed back to their building, he shoved the struggling prisoner along with them.
“My husband will find you!” the woman spat. “He’ll kill you both!”
Jamison said nothing, and Alexa followed his lead. She had no experience whatsoever with criminal etiquette. One thing became clear, though. Eve couldn’t possibly be behind the threats. Alexa didn’t know if she was relieved or not. She had been foolish to leave the flat, and Jamison was rightly furious with her.
The police were at the building when they arrived. She gave her statement, and then Jamison quietly talked with them in fluent French before the gendarmes bore the woman, s
till spewing threats, away.
Alexa stood with her arms crossed, shaking now from reaction to the whole episode. When the remaining policemen left, Jamison turned to her. His expression looked forbidding.
He took her elbow and directed her to the elevator. She was cold now, and shivered. His fingers felt warm, and she didn’t have the courage or will to pull away.
The ride to their floor elapsed in silence. In equal silence they entered their apartment. There, he let go and faced her.
“Proud of yourself? That was a stupid stunt.”
“I wanted freedom. I wanted to be by myself.”
“You act like a child!” His Italian accent was thick. “I can’t believe you would pull a trick like that.”
Alexa fought tears. “I didn’t think it was a real threat. I thought…” Maybe it would be best not to mention her mistaken suspicions about Eve.
He stepped closer. “Then why do I waste my time with you? Staying here…letting you drive me crazy! When I came out of that room, and you were gone…” He thrust a hand through his hair. “At first, I thought you’d been kidnapped. And then I realized you’d run out!”
She hugged her arms tighter around herself. “I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled.
“You’re sorry. Great. That fixes everything.” He headed for the kitchen.
Anger flared, fed by the fear that still shook her. “Sorry’s not good enough for you? You’re an impossible man to live with.” She mumbled, “If I hadn’t escaped, I was going to go loco.”
Luckily, he didn’t seem to hear. “I’m going to ask Colin to take me out and put Mart here.”
Hurt stabbed deep. However irrational it might be, his words made her feel rejected and abandoned. Her mouth ran off faster than her brain. “Good! Then maybe this nightmare will end. It’ll start feeling positive around here.”
“Like your fairy tale,” he sneered.
“The end of one Grimm fairy tale, anyway—the Princess and the…” Just in time, she stopped. She had gone much too far today. Calling him an elf would not help matters.
A terrible moment of silence elapsed. He turned back to her. “And the what?” he said through his teeth.
“Nothing.”
“Whatever demeaning thing you’re thinking, say it to my face, princess.”
“I’m not. You’re a perfectly adequate bodyguard.”
He moved closer. Tightly leashed aggression simmered. “Is that a thank you?” he asked through thinned lips.
“No… I mean, yes.” His threatening, hostile stance snapped something deep inside of her. Fear blossomed, chased by panic. She was going to lose it! Horrified, she struggled to blink back welling tears. One popped out anyway, and rolled down her cheek.
Immediately, his expression changed. “Don’t cry.” For once, he looked at a loss.
“I’m not!” she gasped. “And certainly not because of you!” She fled to her room, slamming the door behind her.
Alexa sat on her bed, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. She wept helplessly. Outside, a truck backfired and she jumped, for the sound shot straight through her soul. With a gasp, she sobbed harder.
The bed sagged down beside her. He had followed her into the room. She flinched away.
“Alexa.” It was one of the few times he had ever said her name. And never like that. Quiet and gentle.
“Go away.” She couldn’t bear anyone to be close right now. She wanted to be alone, just like years ago, when she had hidden in the library in order to find peace in her world.
He touched her shoulder, and she jumped a foot. “Don’t!” she flared. “Can’t you hear? I said, ‘go.’”
“Answer one question first.”
“What?” She sniffed, and it sounded like a juicy snort. Embarrassment upon unbearable embarrassment.
“The attack scared you. I understand that. But so did that truck backfire. Why?”
More relentless tears seeped out. “It’s nothing.” Why wouldn’t he go away?
He didn’t move. The stubborn, tenacious man.
“It’s nothing. I told you,” she said, mopping up the tears. “That loud sound…and the violence, and the hatred spewing from that woman… It reminded me of when I was a kid.”
The crazed attacks reminded her of her parents’ endless fights. Most of them had escalated into irrational screaming fits. Even as she had grown into a teen, Alexa had hidden in her bedroom with her arms over her head, trying to block out the sounds.
Telling Jamison a little more of this truth would hurt. But maybe if she did, he’d leave her alone. She wanted to be alone.
“My parents fought,” she whispered. “Sometimes they threw plates. They’d shatter against the wall.” It had terrified her. Much like today’s attack.
“They threw dishes at each other?”
“No, at the floor, or walls…or cupboards.” At least, they had until the end. Alexa drew in a long, choking breath. It was all in the past. Over and forgotten, she had thought.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Alexa wiped her slippery cheeks. “It’s over. It shouldn’t bother me anymore.”
“It scared you,” he murmured.
It felt strange to be having such an intimate conversation with the man she had fought with since the day they’d met. And yet, it felt unexpectedly comfortable and right, too. He cared. She sensed it. And yet, why? Lately, she had been nothing but a gigantic, prickly pain to him.
In a small voice, she admitted, “I didn’t understand why they wanted to hurt each other. When I was very young, they loved each other.”
“Do they still fight?”
“They’re divorced. Their relationship is better now. But neither has remarried.”
“Some wounds cut deep.”
Pain lanced her heart. “Yes.”
“Your parents’ fights probably seemed unpredictable and violent to you. Just like the attack today. One reminded you of the other.”
“Yes.” She swiped at the still leaking tears. “I’m all right.” She felt exposed now, after having revealed her vulnerable side to Jamison.
“You are not okay. A woman pulled a knife on you. You’re scared. That’s all right.”
Unexpected, hot tears welled up. “I’m so sorry, Jamison. I’m sorry I ran off, and I’m sorry for how I’ve been treating you. I felt stifled…and scared, and I took it out on you. I wanted to escape.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
Alexa suddenly turned to him, but couldn’t look into his face. “What would I have done if you hadn’t come?” More fear choked her words, and her heart.
“You kicked the man well.” She heard his faint amusement.
“But I froze when I saw that knife coming at me.” Through watery eyes, she finally glanced at him. While sitting, his face was level with her own. And for once, his eyes actually looked brown—a lot softer than the hard black she usually elicited from him.
“That’s why you need me.”
What if she had succeeded in her escape like she had planned? What if Jamison hadn’t found her? And how had he, anyway? He must have shot out of the building like a bullet in order to find her as quickly as he had.
If he hadn’t been at the top of his game, she would probably be dead.
More tears wrenched out. She couldn’t stop them.
His arms went around her and he pulled her close. For once, she wanted his comfort more than she needed to keep this man at arm’s length. She cautiously leaned into him and wept into his black shirt. He felt solid and strong. Alexa gulped for breath, trying to find control. When he stroked her hair, she relaxed a little. Over her head, he murmured soft Italian words. They soothed her, even though she didn’t know what they meant.
She sniffed, trying to stop crying. Why did she feel so secure in his arms? So comforted? Alexa decided she had been there long enough. She pulled away, snuffling.
“Here.” He put a white, neatly folded handkerchief into her hand.
&n
bsp; With surprise, she said, “You carry a handkerchief?”
“My mother impressed on me that I need to carry a clean hanky everywhere. They have many purposes.”
“Like sopping up a stupid girl who ran off and almost got killed.”
“That, too.” She heard the smile in his voice.
She dabbed at her eyes. Her mascara left black marks on the snowy white linen. “Now look what I’ve done.”
“You can wash it,” he teased.
“Thanks so much!” Quickly, though, she said, “I’m joking. I’d be happy to.”
He pulled it from her grasp and stood, stuffing it into his pocket as he crossed the room to her bath. He returned with a box full of tissues. “Here.”
She accepted them. “Thanks. Did you think I was going to contaminate your hanky? Like radiation left over from nuclear waste?”
Jamison laughed. “You can be very funny.”
“When it’s not directed at you, you mean,” she said dryly. Alexa swiped at her dripping nose. She didn’t want to honk it in his presence.
Finally, she looked up. “Thank you,” she said simply.
For the first time, his brown eyes actually looked gentle. “You’re welcome, Alexa.” And then he left, quietly closing the door behind him.
Alexa felt better after talking to Jamison, but she needed deeper comfort, too. Before starting work, she looked in her Bible for verses on fear.
Psalm 27:1 spoke to her heart. “The LORD is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?” Lord, please heal me…of all my fears.
The next morning, Jamison said, “The attack on you hit the papers.”
“It did? How? I thought only the police knew.” The truce between them felt strange today. Uncomfortable, too. Alexa wasn’t sure how to handle it. Then again, maybe Jamison would switch with Mart, like he had threatened. Maybe this would be the last morning they’d spend together.
Her Reluctant Bodyguard Page 12
