Undercover Bodyguard

by Shirlee McCoy

  A loud blast rocked the air, a plume of smoke shooting up into the sky from the area they’d just left. The Japanese gardens or somewhere close to it. The caustic scent of explosives drifted through the lilac garden, filling Ryder’s nose and throat and lungs. He expelled it and the memories of another time and another explosion.

  “What was that?” Shelby cried, her eyes wide with shock, her face paper-white.

  “Nothing I want you near. Stay there, and don’t move until I say different.”

  “Where are you going?” She clutched his hand, her palm cool and dry, her grip tight and desperate.

  “Nowhere.” His operatives would check out the explosion. He needed to stay close, make sure he didn’t let his guard down, lose his focus. The explosion was a distraction, a red herring designed to confuse.

  “Then why are you leaving?”

  “Because the perp knows we’re together. I don’t want him finding you because he sees me.”

  “But—”

  “Stay put.” He eased his hand from hers, his heart thudding hard and fast as he pulled his gun and moved away.

  Dusk cast gray shadows across the garden, and he studied each one, willing the perp to walk into his line of sight.

  His leg ached deep in the bone, a reminder of where he’d once been and where he didn’t plan on ever being again. Helpless, hopeless, afraid. He’d fought back from it, found strength in himself and in his faith. Now, he needed to use both to keep Shelby alive.

  A flash of movement to his left warned him seconds before a dark ball flew through the air.

  He dived for cover, his body reacting before his brain registered the truth.

  A grenade!

  The world exploded, bits of earth and grass raining down, the force of the explosion knocking the breath from Ryder’s lungs.

  “Ryder!” Shelby screamed, jumping from her hiding place, racing toward him, her eyes shimmering blue in the evening gloom.

  “Go back!” But it was too late. A soft pop. A bloom of red in a sea of lilac, and Shelby was falling. Another pop. Shouted words, but Ryder’s only thought was Shelby. He ran toward her, his gun drawn and ready, his heart thundering with fear and anger.

  “Shelby?” His hand shook as he touched the pulse point in her neck, felt the thready, weak throb of her heart.

  Blood bubbled up from a hole in the right side of her chest, seeping into her cotton shirt and spilling onto the ground.

  Too much blood.

  He’d failed her, and she might die because of it.

  He pressed his hand against the wound, realized blood was seeping from beneath her back, too.

  Something moved to his right, and he pivoted, aiming his gun at the figure that raced toward him.

  “Hold your fire!” Darius called, and Ryder turned his attention back to Shelby. Her face devoid of color, her eyes closed, she had the grayish tinge of the dying.

  Please, God, don’t let her die.

  “I’ve already called an ambulance. Hopefully, it’ll be here soon. She’s lost a lot of blood.” Darius knelt beside him, frowning at the blood that stained the ground.

  “Go find the guy who did this,” Ryder said, unwilling to leave Shelby and unwilling to let her attacker escape.

  “Matthews is after him. I got off one good shot when he bolted from his hiding place, and I’m pretty sure I hit him. He ran into the woods on that hill.” He gestured to a hill a hundred yards out, covered with trees and shrouded in darkness.

  “What about Lincoln?” Ryder pressed his jacket against Shelby’s wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood, trying to will the life to stay in her.

  “Injured in an explosion near the reception site. Matthews was heading back to offer aid when the grenade was lobbed. We tried to get a bead on the perp, but he was behind a boulder, and I couldn’t get off a shot until he ran.”

  “She’s losing too much blood.” Ryder spoke out loud, the words tasting like dust, his stomach twisting with fear. He should have been able to keep her from being hurt. Should have protected her.

  Ryder pressed harder on the bubbling wound, his hand shaking.

  “Shelby?” He leaned close, listening for her breath, hearing nothing.

  “She’s still breathing,” Darius said, but the assurance did little to comfort Ryder. Breathing for now, but maybe not in a minute.

  “We need that ambulance,” he responded, and the sound of sirens seemed to answer, drifting from somewhere too far away.

  Please, God, get it here in time.

  “Come on, Shelby Ann. You’re not going to die and leave Dottie to take care of the bakery, are you?”

  “I was thinking about it.” The words were so quiet, he wasn’t sure he’d actually heard them.

  “Then how about you think about something else?” He used his free hand to brush dirt from her cheek, and she opened her eyes but didn’t speak.

  “Shelby? What are you thinking about?” He persisted, because he was afraid if she stopped talking, she’d stop breathing.

  “I’m thinking that I want to cry and that I shouldn’t. I don’t think I can afford to lose any more fluids.” She tried to smile, and his heart responded, tightening in his chest, aching with a hot, throbbing pain.

  If she died, he didn’t think it would ever go away.

  “It’s okay to cry when you’ve been shot.” He smoothed her hair, and she closed her eyes.

  “You wouldn’t cry. Not even if you were shot.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, her blood still seeping through his coat, her skin growing even paler.

  “Maybe not, but I’d cry if I lost you.”

  She opened her eyes, looked into his face. “I think I believe you.”

  “You should. I cried the day I found out my buddies were killed in that explosion in Afghanistan. You’re not going to make me cry again, are you?”

  “I’m not sure it’s my choice, and I want you to know how sorry I am.”

  “For what?”

  “I should have stayed where you asked me to. You’re the best bodyguard I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m the only bodyguard you’ve ever had.”

  “If I’d had a million, you’d still be the best, and I should have listened to you. I’m the one who messed up. Not you. Remember that, okay?” Her hand dropped over his, the one that pressed his coat to the bullet wound, and his throat constricted.

  He could not lose her.

  “Where’s that ambulance?” he barked, meeting Darius’s concerned gaze.

  “There!” Darius jumped up, racing toward the crew that ran toward them.

  “Hang on. They’re almost here,” Ryder said, but Shelby’s eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and raspy. “Shelby?”

  “It’s okay,” she responded. “I’m not afraid to die. I just…really wanted to live a few more of my dreams first.”

  “You’re not going to die.”

  “Tell Dottie that I trust her to run the bakery—”

  “You are not going to die!” he nearly shouted as the EMTs crowded in, edging him out.

  “Ryder!” Shelby grabbed his hand, her grip weak. “Stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

  He wasn’t sure if she meant go to the hospital alone or die alone, but he nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  Then he moved back and let the medics work.

  TWENTY

  Fading.

  That’s how dying felt. At least that’s what Shelby figured it must feel like, and fading was exactly what she was doing. Drifting and fading and going away, but she didn’t want to go. Not yet.

  She groaned as she was lifted onto a gurney, the pain so intense she wanted to close her eyes and slip away, but she w
as afraid that if she did, she’d never find her way back.

  “You’re going to be okay, ma’am,” a female EMT said, her nutmeg skin and dark eyes shimmering in the evening light.

  Shelby wasn’t sure if she was supposed to respond, but she couldn’t seem to catch her breath, so she kept silent as someone jabbed her arm with a needle.

  She barely felt it, barely felt anything. Just muted pain and panic that she might fall asleep and never wake up.

  Please, God, I’m not ready to die.

  Darkness edged in, and she fought it as the gurney bumped over grass and dirt, people talking, the sweet scent of lilac mixing with the coppery scent of blood, everything moving.

  Flying.

  No pain. Just darkness. Her heart pounding in her ears, in her chest. Her body vibrating with it.

  Then nothing.

  No fear.

  No worries.

  No dreams.

  “You’re not leaving me, are you, Shelby Ann?” a voice whispered from somewhere far away, and she wanted to ignore it, wanted to keep floating in nothingness.

  “Shelby?” The tone captured her as the voice hadn’t, the desperation in it tugging her back to pain and fear.

  Too much effort to stay there.

  To open her eyes.

  To try to find the voice that called her name again.

  Ryder’s voice.

  She wanted to reach for him, but her arms were leaden, her fingers numb.

  “I’m not going to let you leave. Not before you have a chance to live those dreams.” Warm words, warm breath against her ear, warm fingers twining with hers, all of it seeming to lighten her heavy lids.

  She opened her eyes, stared into Ryder’s concerned face, looked into his deep brown eyes.

  She didn’t want to leave any more than he wanted to let her go, but she had no voice to say the words, no energy to tell him she was going to stick around, so she just stared into his eyes as the ambulance sped to the hospital. Stared and stared and tried to lose herself in them instead of the darkness that wanted to sweep back over her.

  “Okay, ma’am. We’re here. Just relax and let us do all the work.” The EMT patted her arm reassuringly, and then Shelby was moving away from Ryder. She tried to hold on to his hand, but her grip was weak, and it slipped from her grasp.

  Wait! she tried to say, but no sound came out.

  She was wheeled into a narrow, well-lit corridor, people shouting instructions and information that must have had something to do with her, but that she could make no sense of.

  All her thoughts were foggy and thick, her thinking sluggish.

  She heard words, but they were disjointed and unconnected.

  Gunshot wound.

  Blood loss.

  Surgery.

  Everything swirling and whirling in her ears, mixing with the erratic beat of her heart.

  Dying.

  That’s what she was doing. Right there in the hospital.

  “Sir, you’re going to have to wait here!” a nurse barked as she ran alongside the stretcher, her fingers on Shelby’s wrist.

  “I’ll stay with her until you reach the operating room,” Ryder responded, and Shelby tried to see him past the veil of clouds that seemed to be over her eyes.

  “Sir—”

  “I’m staying.”

  More voices. More words. Men and women in uniforms. Panic in the air.

  Then everything quiet and still.

  “This is it, sir. You can’t go any farther.”

  “Shelby?” Ryder leaned so close she could see him through the clouds, count the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, see the blond stubble on his chin. Her heart beat hollowly, the light, airy feel of floating returning, but she reached out, touched his cheek.

  “Don’t leave me, Ryder.”

  “I have to,” he responded, and she was sure his voice was shaking, but maybe she was shaking, her heart shimmering rather than beating.

  “I’m so scared,” she whispered, and Ryder brushed hair from her forehead, kissed her chilled skin.

  “You’re too brave to be scared, Shelby Ann.”

  “Only when you’re with me. Please, don’t leave me.”

  “You’re plenty brave, even without me, but I’ll be out here waiting, and I’ll be here when you come out. The first person you see. I promise.” He kissed her forehead again, his breath warming her cold, cold skin, and she thought there were tears in his eyes as he stepped away, but the fog had rolled in again, and she couldn’t be sure.

  “Everything is going to be fine, Shelby.” A dark-haired man dressed in green scrubs patted her hand as she started to move again.

  Flying.

  Floating.

  Fading.

  Please, God, I don’t want to leave my mother, my sister. I don’t want to leave Dottie. I don’t want to leave Ryder. Not before I know what we could have had together.

  The prayer whispered through her mind as she floated into darkness.

  TWENTY-ONE

  She could die.

  Ryder had seen it in Shelby’s eyes and in her blue-tinged lips. She knew it, too.

  Scared.

  That’s what she’d said, and he’d been scared, too.

  Terrified that they’d roll her into the operating room and she wouldn’t come out alive.

  He was still terrified.

  “How is she?” Darius jogged toward him, blood splattered across his white dress shirt, his face gaunt with worry.

  “Not good. She’s been in surgery for four hours already. Did Matthews get the perp?” Ryder ground the question out, and Darius shook his head.

  “A K-9 unit was dispatched, and they’re on his trail. The good news is, the one shot I got off hit him. The police found a few drops of blood on the ridge where the perp was hiding.”

  “The good news will be when he’s in custody.”

  “It’ll happen, Ryder.”

  “It should have happened before he got another chance at Shelby,” he said, anger at his failure beating hard in his chest.

  “It’s difficult to stop someone when you don’t know who he is or where he is, and this guy is good at protecting himself. He planned things out perfectly today. An explosive device hidden ahead of time, and all he had to do was push a button to detonate it. He meant it to be a distraction, and he succeeded. We’re fortunate more people weren’t hurt.”

  “Aside from Lincoln and Shelby, were there other injuries?” Ryder asked, knowing that if there were, he’d be wearing another layer of guilt. His men had done a sweep of the area before he arrived with Shelby, covering a grid that encompassed nearly half an acre. They’d found nothing, but something had been there. That was his responsibility and failure as much as theirs.

  “No. The bomb was in a copse of trees two hundred yards from the reception site. Our perp waited until we were moving away from the site, and then set it off. There wasn’t a lot of force in the explosives. He obviously had only one target.

  “And he found it. I should have been more careful.” Ryder slammed his fist into the wall.

  “You were as careful as anyone could be, and if Shelby hadn’t left her cover—”

  “It wasn’t her fault.”

  “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Accept that or you won’t be able to help Shelby heal.”

  He was right.

  Ryder knew that, and he took a deep breath. “What else have you got for me?

  “Lincoln saw our perp moving through the trees right before the explosion. He gave chase, saw the guy climb into a car on the far side of the woods seconds before the explosion. A minute after the explosion, the perp tossed a grenade at you.”


  “I know. No need to rehash it,” Ryder said wearily, and Darius frowned.

  “You’re not getting my point, boss. It would have taken more than a minute for the perp to run from that parking area to the ridge.”

  “You’re saying we’re dealing with two perps?” The knowledge shot through Ryder like raw adrenaline. His pulse jumped, his body hummed with it.

  “Exactly.”

  “Ryder Malone?” A police officer strode toward him, grim-faced and timeworn, his gray hair shaggy and unkempt.

  “Yes.” Ryder met him halfway, and the officer offered a hand.

  “I’m Detective Nick Jasper with the Spokane Police Department. I’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened this evening.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “We’ll probably be more comfortable in a less public place. The hospital has provided its conference room. If you’ll—”

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?” Detective Jasper frowned.

  “If you want to ask questions, ask them here. Otherwise, they’ll have to wait.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to work for me, Mr. Malone.”

  “I don’t think you have a choice.” He walked back to the operating-room door, not swayed by Darius’s subtle head gesture. He’d promised Shelby he’d be there when she came out, and he would be. Even if he had to stand there for the rest of the night.

  “Okay. We’ll do this your way.” Detective Jasper stepped up beside him. “You visited Dr. Christopher Peterson this afternoon, correct?”

  “That’s an odd question to ask after a woman nearly died.” Ryder eyed the detective, not sure where they were headed with the interview, but intrigued. He’d had a gut feeling about Peterson, and it hadn’t been a good one.

  “Not so odd seeing as how another woman visited him and died less than twenty-four hours later.”

  “Maureen Lewis?”

  “That’s right. You and Ms. Simons were digging into her death, right? Trying to find out who wanted to kill her and why.”

  “Because someone was also trying to kill Shelby.” And had nearly succeeded. Might still succeed.