“That’s him,” she shouted, as he turned and walked around the corner.
“Who?” Ryder braked, leaning past her and looking in the direction she pointed.
“The guy I saw this morning running from 21st Street. He’s heading down Main Street.”
“Stay in the car. I’ll go see what he has to say.”
He was out of the Hummer before Shelby could respond, moving quickly, bypassing a few pedestrians as he jogged around the corner and out of sight.
Going to find the guy with the icy-blue eyes.
Shelby shuddered, smoothing Mazy’s silky head. “He’ll be fine, right, girl?”
The dog whined, but it wasn’t the answer Shelby wanted.
She wanted to know absolutely for sure that Ryder wasn’t going to run into a trap and be brought down by the strange guy with the sunglasses.
Ten minutes passed. Then another ten.
Ryder had a meeting to get to, and Shelby had a desperate need to know he was okay.
She set Mazy on the seat.
“Stay here and don’t chew anything.” She tossed the command out as she opened the door and jumped out. The quick movement was a mistake. Her head spun, and she grabbed the door, steadying herself as she took deep gulps of air.
“I thought I told you to stay in the Hummer,” Ryder snapped, and Shelby jumped, her heart racing double-time as she met his dark eyes.
“I was worried about you.”
“You should have been worried about you. You’re pale as paper. Sit down before you fall down.” His tone was gruff, his hands gentle as he helped her back into the SUV.
“Did you find him?”
“No. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. There are plenty of places to hide around here, that’s for sure, and if he took off his hood and sunglasses, I could easily have looked right at him and not known it.” He glanced around the parking lot, his jacket pulled back just enough to show the edge of his shoulder holster.
A security contractor, that’s what he’d called himself. He looked like one. Tough and determined and very confident.
“I know it was him, Ryder. He was waiting for me.” She shuddered, and Ryder patted her knee. Heat radiated up her leg and settled deep in her belly. She ignored it. Ignored the flush that raced across her cheeks.
“Just because he’s the same guy you saw this morning doesn’t mean he was waiting for you. He might be indigent. It’s possible he spent the night at Manito Park and then came this way for something to eat.”
True. The park was just a few blocks away from Maureen’s, and the Union Gospel Mission was around the corner from the hospital. It all made perfect sense, but Shelby’s shivering fear wouldn’t leave.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m going to call hospital security. See if they can pull up external security-camera footage for me. I want to get a good look at this guy.” He pulled out of the parking lot, the Hummer’s engine purring as he drove toward the bakery.
Shelby’s unsettled stomach churned and grumbled as Ryder talked to a hospital security officer on his hands-free phone, his tone brusque.
She closed her eyes. The day had started horribly, but it didn’t have to continue that way. She’d go to the bakery, work for a few hours, then take Mazy to her apartment, get her set up there. Maybe she’d forget that she’d rung the doorbell and sealed Maureen’s fate.
Maybe.
But Shelby doubted it.
A lone tear slid down her cheek, and she let it fall, because her friend was dead, because Shelby might have killed her and because there was absolutely nothing she could do to change any of it.
FOUR
Shelby seemed to be sleeping as Ryder parked in front of Just Desserts. Pale and drawn, a large bandage on her temple, she looked very young and very vulnerable. That worried him. She worried him. Despite what he’d told her, Ryder didn’t believe in coincidence, and he didn’t believe that the guy she’d seen was some random homeless person. He’d been there for Shelby. Ryder’s gut told him that, and he always listened to his gut.
He’d called the hospital security team and spoken to the head of security, but the thirty-second conversation had revealed little. They’d check their surveillance footage and said they’d report anything suspicious, but Ryder doubted a guy standing on the street corner would be viewed as that.
He frowned, eyeing the news vans parked in the bakery’s parking lot. Obviously, news of the fire, Maureen’s death and Shelby’s involvement had spread.
“Are we at the bakery?” Shelby opened her eyes and blinked groggily. Dark curls slid across her forehead and cheeks. Wild and silky-looking, they begged to be touched.
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“It takes me longer than five minutes to fall asleep. It didn’t sound as if your conversation with hospital security went well.” She scooped Mazy into her arms and got out of the Hummer. Ryder followed, falling into step beside her as she made her way across the crowded parking lot.
“They’re being as helpful as they can. I’ll call the sheriff later. He may be interested in viewing the footage.”
“Maybe, but you’re probably right. The guy was hanging around waiting for the mission to open.” She smiled as she walked into the bakery, the scent of vanilla and chocolate and rich yeast dough stroking Ryder’s senses almost as completely as Shelby did.
He frowned, not comfortable with the thought.
“Wow. This is…insane,” Shelby whispered, clutching his arm for a moment and releasing it just as quickly.
She was right.
The bakery was jam-packed.
“I’ll take care of it,” he responded, shoving his way through the crowd.
A team of reporters stood near the counter, shouting questions above the quiet roar of ordering patrons and busybody visitors. Shelby’s harried young employees scurried from person to person, answering questions, ringing up orders.
Ryder eased his way through the crowd, sidling up next to the loudest of three news crews.
“Leave,” he said quietly, and the anchorwoman frowned.
“Excuse me?” she asked as if she weren’t sure she’d heard him right.
“Ms. Simons won’t be answering any questions today. If you’re interested in an interview, you’ll have to call ahead of time and set up an appointment.”
“But—”
“You’ve been asked to leave, and now you’re trespassing. I suggest you take my advice and go before I call the police.” He left her openmouthed and unhappy, and moved on to the next crew.
Ten minutes later, the crowd had thinned to a manageable number, air circulated through the small bakery once again, the harried young girl and her tattooed male counterpart behind the counter were working in harmony once again.
Mission accomplished.
He turned to call Shelby over, but she’d disappeared. He could hear her voice drifting from the kitchen, and he knew she was safe.
He could leave, go to his meeting and get on with his day. Only he wasn’t sure he should leave before he made sure Shelby was okay.
As a matter of fact, he was certain he shouldn’t.
He walked to the counter, smiled at the blonde teenager. “Is Shelby in the back?”
“Yes, I think so. I mean, she could have walked out the back door, but she never does that.” She glanced over her shoulder, and Ryder took the opportunity to step around the counter.
“Sir! You can’t come back here.”
“I just did.” He smiled again and walked into the kitchen.
“What are you doing back here? Git!” A blue-haired lady came at him with a broom, and Ryder sidestepped her swing.
Dottie. The bane of his exi
stence. Refusing to serve him coffee and doughnuts had been bad enough. Now she was trying to beat him with a broom. He grabbed it before she could swing again, slipping it out of her hands.
“Where’s Shelby?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Dottie! There’s no need to be rude.” Shelby stepped out of a walk-in pantry, a huge bag of flour clutched in her hands.
“That thing is as big as you are. You should have gotten that tattooed employee of yours to carry it.” Ryder took it from her hands, and she shrugged.
“I’m stronger than he is. Dottie, why don’t you go up front and help? They’re swamped up there.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then! I guess I’ll go.” Dottie huffed away.
“Sorry about that. Dottie has…issues.” Shelby opened the sack of flour and measured several cups into a standing mixer.
“Apparently I’m one of them.”
“Everyone is one of them.”
“Yet you employ her.”
“I inherited her from my grandmother. They were good friends. When Beulah passed away, I got Dottie.” She smiled, finally looking into his eyes. “I thought you’d left. You have that meeting to get to, remember?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Aside from a raging headache, I’m fine.”
“You need to go home, Shelby. That was a pretty serious head injury you sustained.”
“It’s not the head injury that’s giving me a headache. It’s all the tears. I always get headaches when I cry.” She poured milk into the mixer, added eggs and soft butter and sugar, her hands pretty and efficient. He’d like to take her to the gun range. Show her how to handle a semiautomatic. He had a feeling she’d be a good shot.
“Yeah? Then I’ll have to be sure to never make you cry.”
“Why would you? You come in for doughnuts and coffee every day. That’s money in my pocket. Which makes me very happy.” She offered a tight smile and turned her attention to the bowl. Obviously, he’d hit a nerve.
“Is that doughnut batter? Because I never did get my breakfast,” he said.
“No. It’s sweet bread. I’m going to put it in the fridge to proof, and then I’m going home. I need to get Mazy settled, and I need to settle a little, too. It’s been a rough morning.” She covered the bowl with a damp cloth, slid it onto a rolling rack with ten other bowls and pushed everything into a walk-in refrigerator.
“Where’s the dog? I’ll get her for you and walk you to your car.”
“Ryder, I appreciate your help, but I don’t need it anymore.” She brushed flour from her apron, and he brushed it from her cheek, his fingers grazing silky flesh.
She stilled.
“Ryder…”
“You had flour on your cheek.”
“Oh. Okay.” She rubbed the spot he’d touched, not meeting his eyes.
“So, where’s the dog?”
“Dottie tied her up out back,” she responded and then pressed her lips together. “You tricked that out of me.”
“No trick, Shelby Ann. You’re exhausted and traumatized. Whether you want to admit it or not, you need a little help.”
She sighed. “Fine. Go get Mazy. I’ll meet you out front. My car is—”
“The big pink Cadillac.”
“How did you know?”
“It’s the only car that’s here every time you are.”
“Right. Okay. I’ll meet you out there in a couple of minutes. I just need to give my crew some instructions.” She hurried away. Ran, actually.
He walked out the back exit, freed the ungrateful Mazy and carried her to Shelby’s car. He waited there, holding the struggling dog as tightly as he could without squashing her. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Twenty. He called work, rescheduled the meeting for later in the afternoon, tapped his fingers on the Caddie’s hood.
Where was she?
Probably mixing another batch of sweet bread or keeping Dottie from attacking a patron. What she needed to be doing was resting. He shoved Mazy into the Hummer and walked into the bakery.
Shelby stood at one of the small booths, talking to an elderly couple, her blue eyes widening with surprise as she met his gaze.
“Time to go.” He took her arm, tugging her away.
“But I was—”
“Going home to take a nap, remember?”
“I know, but Dottie, Zane and Rae—”
“Can handle things just fine.” He led her outside, grabbing Mazy from the back of his Hummer and waiting while Shelby climbed into the Cadillac.
“Come on, Old Blue. Give me a break this time and start, okay?” she muttered as she turned the key in the ignition.
“I hate to break the news to you, Shelby. But your car is pink, not blue.” He leaned in the open door and set Mazy in Shelby’s lap, caught a whiff of vanilla and berry, his muscles tightening in response.
“I know. Terrible, isn’t it? Beulah left it to me in her will with specific instructions to keep it pink. If I had my way, though, she’d be blue.”
“She?”
“Of course. She’s not just a car. Blue is an old lady with history. She’s been through a lot, but she’s still nice to have around. Most of the time.”
“Like Dottie?”
“Exactly. Thanks again for all your help this morning. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been at Maureen’s place.” Her eyes grew moist with tears at the mention of her friend, but she didn’t let them fall. Instead, she closed the door, offered a quick wave and drove away.
He watched until the pink Cadillac disappeared from view, something in him soft for Shelby, soft for her easy smile and compassionate nature. To keep a woman like Dottie around, to drive an old pink car in memory of a woman who’d been gone for years, to run a successful bakery with a ragtag group of teens and a crotchety old woman behind the counter took a special kind of person.
Shelby was definitely that.
Ryder had been attracted to women before.
He’d even thought he might love a few of them, but none of them had touched his heart so easily, so completely as Shelby seemed to.
He rubbed the knotted muscles in his thigh before he climbed into the Hummer. He needed to work the pain out, run until the muscles heated and loosened, but he had a meeting to attend, a client to impress. He had a company to run and his own set of problems to deal with. The last thing he needed or wanted was to be pulled into someone else’s life or drama.
But with Shelby, he wasn’t sure he’d have to be pulled.
With Shelby, he had a feeling he’d end up fighting his way into her life, and he had a feeling it would be worth it.
Drama and all.
He pulled away from Just Desserts, his mind humming with the million things he had to do before the day ended. Plenty to keep him occupied, but Shelby’s sweet smile and berry-and-vanilla scent lingered just below the surface of his thoughts, reminding him of cool summer breezes and sparkling blue waters.
Laughter and joy and home.
All the things he’d craved most when he’d been in the arid Afghanistan countryside. Everything he’d longed for when he’d been lying in a hospital bed, listening while doctors told him he’d never walk again.
Six years ago, God had given Ryder a second chance at life, and Ryder had promised to live better and love more. He’d followed through on that, honoring his fallen comrades by building a successful security business and setting up scholarship funds for their children.
But the one thing he’d longed for most since those dark, pain-filled days had remained out of reach.
Family.
N
ot just his parents and siblings, but that deeper, all- consuming connection built between husband and wife and children. He’d seen its power as wives and children crowded around the beds of his surviving team members, felt it in the air as he visited the widows of those he’d served with, and he’d wanted it in a way that he never had before the explosion in Afghanistan.
Wanted it.
Sought it.
Thought he might have found it in Danielle. After they’d broken up, he’d decided that family wasn’t part of God’s plan for his life. Maybe he’d been right, but Ryder wasn’t the kind who turned away from an opportunity, and when he looked at Shelby, that’s what he saw.
An opportunity.
To look one more time for forever.
Maybe he’d find it.
Maybe he wouldn’t.
Either way, he had a feeling he was in for a bumpy ride.
FIVE
“Start, you stupid lump of metal. Start!” Shelby turned the key in the ignition and listened to Blue’s engine sputter and die for the tenth time.
“Perfect,” she muttered, leaning her forehead against the steering wheel, her head throbbing from a sleepless night and a million tears. She should have stayed in bed. She’d planned to stay in bed, but Dottie had called to say the doughnut fryer was acting up and that she needed Shelby to fix it.
That had been nearly an hour ago, and Shelby was still sitting in the driveway of her two-story Tudor, trying to start the Cadillac as dawn stretched gold fingers across the horizon.
She’d have to walk.
There were no two ways about it.
Walk the three miles to the bakery and hope the guy who’d haunted her dreams wasn’t waiting around a corner or hiding in a dark alley.
She frowned, rubbing the bridge of her nose and praying that if she gave Old Blue one last shot, she’d start.
But nothing had been easy lately.
Not breaking up with Andrew, not facing the pitying looks of her friends and the I-told-you-so’s of her family. Not running the bakery with Dottie and four high-school dropouts who’d needed a place to work.
Undercover Bodyguard Page 4
