He moved into the left lane and accelerated. Varying his speed would make it harder for someone to follow him, at least without Jasmine noticing. He checked his mirrors. On a Saturday morning, traffic was moderate. The Suburban was some distance back, traveling in the right lane. He signaled and prepared to merge onto I-75. As he decreased his speed, several vehicles went around him. He moved into the far-right lane and exited 285 in front of a slow-moving dump truck.
After several miles, he picked up speed again. Soon he’d be on 575, headed toward Murphy. An unexpected sense of anticipation wove through him.
He’d made this move twice before. Each time, it had represented a fresh start, and he’d found freedom, happiness, a sense of belonging.
The first time, he’d been fifteen, leaving behind years in foster care to become part of a real family. The second time, he’d been filled with excitement, ready to start his own family.
This would be a new start also, one he’d never hoped to make. He and Liam, facing an uncertain future, their family unit shattered. Hoping to stay hidden from someone who might want them dead.
The phone’s ringtone cut across his thoughts. It was Jasmine.
“Don’t take the 575 exit. I think you have a tail.”
His pulse picked up speed, and an instant sheet of moisture coated his palms. “Which vehicle?”
“The silver Mustang.”
He looked in his rearview mirror. There it was, one lane to his left, about five cars back. “Can you slow down, get a tag number?”
“I’ve tried. I think he knows I’m with you. Whenever I drop back, he does, too. Won’t give me an opportunity to read his tag.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Ernest Barrett Parkway is the next exit. Easy off, easy on.”
After he disconnected the call, Jasmine slowed down so much he almost lost sight of her. Several cars moved between them. The Mustang didn’t.
As he approached 575, the GPS told him to exit. He ignored it. Jasmine was in charge and he had no problem letting her call the shots.
After he exited I-75, the light ahead was red. He eased to a stop, then dialed her back. “Did our friend follow?”
“I’m not sure, but I think he’s behind the box truck.”
He counted the vehicles lined up in his rearview mirror. In their lane, three waited between him and Jasmine, two more between her and the box truck. Likely every one of them would turn left on Ernest Barrett. If the Mustang followed him and Jasmine back onto 75, they’d know for sure.
The light changed, and he moved forward. As he made his way up the on-ramp, two vehicles followed from Ernest Barrett, a semitruck blocking any farther view.
He completed his merge and touched the phone, still clipped into the dash mount. Jasmine’s rang four times, then went to voice mail.
Maybe she was calling the police, which meant someone was following them. A sense of protectiveness gripped him, an urge to wrap Liam in his arms so tightly no one could pry him loose.
Colton lifted his chin until the rearview mirror framed his son’s face. Sad eyes looked back at him. Brown, just like his mother’s. Liam had gotten Mandy’s eyes and Colton’s blond hair.
When his phone rang a few minutes later, he swiped the screen, heart racing while he waited for Jasmine’s update.
“Sorry, I was on the phone with 911 when you called. He followed us back onto the interstate, hanging back like before. But he knew we were onto him. He got off on Chastain Road, no signal, just whipped it over. The police know to look for the car there, but I’m not holding out high hopes.”
He wasn’t, either. “What now? Exit, then head back south to pick up 575?”
“Not knowing where that Mustang is, I say we continue north and take 411 near Cartersville. It might be a little out of the way, but it’s better than running across those guys again.”
The next two hours were uneventful. When he finally pulled onto Hilltop Road, several miles southwest of town, all of nature seemed to wrap him in a comforting embrace. He was home. The quaintness, the low crime rate, the small-town atmosphere, the feeling of having stepped back into a safer, slower, less complicated time—Murphy was still a great place to raise a child.
He stayed left where the road forked and wound his way upward. He hadn’t been back since Mandy died. For weeks, he’d stumbled around in a grief-induced fog, somehow managing after a two-week bereavement leave to return to his duties and care for Liam when he wasn’t working.
A week later, he’d gotten word that Mandy’s father had had a heart attack. Though he’d survived, it was going to be a long road to recovery. Having just lost their only child, they’d had no one to turn to.
So Colton had taken a leave of absence, loaded up Liam and headed to Montana. He wasn’t sure who had benefited the most from his trip out West. He’d gone to help his in-laws. But in those quiet moments, sitting on the back deck as the sun sank behind the mountains and daylight turned to dusk, then darkness, God had ministered to him. Little by little the frayed pieces of his heart had begun to heal.
Near the top of the hill, he pulled into a gravel drive. A huge hemlock rose from the center of the front yard, hiding the majority of the A-frame log cabin from the view of the road. Trees huddled around the other three sides of the house. The hardwoods’ limbs were bare except for the most stubborn leaves. Brown and curled, they were determined to hang on until they had no choice but to succumb to winter’s fury.
Colton put the vehicle in Park and turned in his seat. “We’re here, buddy. Our favorite place.”
The excitement he tried to inject into his tone had no effect on Liam. He didn’t expect it to. Every week, his little boy seemed to retreat a bit more into himself. And Colton had no idea how to help him. Apparently, his counselors hadn’t, either, because nothing had seemed to work.
Colton climbed from the vehicle and removed his son from the car seat. After retrieving one of the suitcases, he walked up the sidewalk, Liam’s hand in his. Halfway there, Liam broke away and ran toward the house. When he reached the front deck, he looked over one shoulder. Hope had replaced the vacancy in his eyes.
Colton’s heart swelled with emotion. Liam remembered the place.
Of course he did. It was where he’d lived the first year and a half of his life and where they’d spent almost every weekend after that until the past six months.
As soon as Colton opened the door, Liam burst through. He crossed the living room at a full run, skidded around the bar that marked the boundary of the kitchen and disappeared into the bedroom to the right. Colton smiled, laughter bubbling up inside. It was the first glimpse he’d seen of the carefree little boy he used to have. Coming back to Murphy was the best thing he could have done for his son.
Liam reappeared moments later. After running into the master bedroom, he returned to the living room. His gait was shuffling, every bit of excitement gone. Had he worn himself out that quickly?
Colton dropped to one knee in front of him. “What’s the matter, buddy?”
Liam’s lower lip quivered, and his eyes filled with tears.
Colton sank the rest of the way to the floor, realization kicking him hard in the chest.
Liam wasn’t happy to be back in Murphy.
He was looking for his mother.
Colton stretched out his arms and grasped his son’s hands. “Sweetheart, Mommy’s not here.”
When he’d pulled him onto his lap, he wrapped his arms around his little body and held him tightly, rocking side to side, seeking to comfort himself as much as his son.
Movement drew his attention to the left. Jasmine stood in the open doorway, her purse hanging from her shoulder and a suitcase in each hand. She didn’t say a word, but the sympathy in her gaze spoke volumes. She’d had her own heartaches.
Maybe having her there would help ease some of L
iam’s sorrow and loneliness. Maybe it would help ease some of his own.
No, Jasmine wasn’t a mother figure. And she certainly wasn’t a wife. That wasn’t why he’d hired her. He’d hired her to protect him and his son.
Once the assignment was over, she’d be gone.
No one would ever take Mandy’s place.
Not in his life or his son’s.
* * *
Jasmine parted the curtains and peered into the front yard. Late afternoon shadows stretched across the landscape. Security here was minimal. Actually, it was nonexistent, something that would be remedied this week.
Shortly after arriving at the Murphy house three days ago, she’d walked the premises and come up with a security plan. An alarm system was a minimum requirement. Before the weekend, all windows and doors would be wired and motion-sensing lights installed on the perimeter of the house. For the time being, camera installation was on hold. But it would be scheduled immediately if she felt the need.
She let the cloth panel drop. For the past thirty minutes, she’d made her rounds to several of the house’s windows, checking on Liam in between. This residence wasn’t elegant like Colton’s Atlanta home. But with hardwood floors, tongue-and-groove walls and a fireplace tucked into one side of the living room, it was nice—cozy and rustic. And as long as Colton’s enemies didn’t know he was here, it was safe.
Ideally, she’d have backup, a second or third bodyguard to help patrol and provide relief. But Colton didn’t have as deep pockets as Burch’s celebrity and big-business clients, especially after the extended leave of absence to care for his in-laws—one of the things she’d learned from Gunn after Colton had left the office Friday. If he’d remained in Atlanta, they wouldn’t have given him a choice.
The ringtone sounded on her phone, and she released it from the clip on her belt. The screen ID’d Burch Security as the caller.
Corine’s Southern twang came through the phone. “I’ve checked out some of the names Mr. Gale gave Gunn. I’m still working on it, but there are two people who match the description of the men who tried to kidnap his son. At least their size. Since they were wearing ski masks, that’s all we’ve got to go on.”
“Who?”
“Richard Perez is the first name Gale gave us. Turns out, he has regular visits from his brothers. Both have records, but they’re out now. The older one is tall and lanky. The younger one is close to the same height but built like an offensive lineman.”
Jasmine nodded. “It fits.”
“Another name Gale gave us is Broderick ‘Ace’ Hoffman, who was released three weeks ago. He’s roughly the same size as the thinner guy. We’re checking out people he’s known to associate with to see if any of them fit the other guy’s description.”
As Corine continued to provide information, Jasmine moved to the back door and peered through the paned glass inset. Finally, the admin fell silent.
“Anyone else?” Corine had given her six possible matches.
“That’s it for now. You know Gale’s wife died of natural causes, right?”
“Yeah, Gunn gave me all the history.”
After ending the call, she glanced through the open doorway to Liam’s room. Keeping track of the boy was the easy part of her assignment. He wasn’t a typical preschooler, with boundless energy and a touch of mischievousness. Instead, he seemed perfectly content to play quietly on the floor.
He was also spending his days in preschool. Colton had enrolled him yesterday, after securing his former job with the district attorney’s office for Cherokee County. He’d given her two reasons for the preschool decision. One, he hadn’t hired her to be a babysitter. She couldn’t agree more.
Two, he didn’t want his son spending so much time with her that he’d get attached. More good thinking. Liam’s mother was no longer in the picture, and he wasn’t handling it well.
She’d abide by Colton’s wishes and not let Liam get attached to her. But the sad little boy she’d been charged with protecting stirred something in her. Twenty-five years ago, that had been her—quiet, withdrawn, tormented by nightmares. Unlike Liam, she’d had a mother throughout most of her childhood. And her mother loved her. She’d just been too young and dysfunctional to know how to raise a child.
Jasmine leaned against Liam’s doorjamb, and his eyes met hers. He sat amid a sea of Legos, an almost completed rectangular object in front of him.
She stepped into the room. “What are you building?”
He lowered his gaze and searched through the pieces until he found a truss-shaped one, then snapped it onto an end.
“Are you building a house?”
Liam continued his project without making eye contact again. She turned to leave the room. She’d never been good at one-sided conversations.
At the door, she hesitated. A chest of drawers sat to its right, a framed eight-by-ten photograph on top. She’d noticed it there before but hadn’t taken the time to look at it closely. Now she took the frame down and held it in front of her.
It was one of those studio portraits, with a Christmas background. Colton sat on a stool. A woman was nestled in front of him, Liam on her lap. Colton’s wife. Her hair was a medium brown, the same color as her eyes. Though she wore makeup, it was understated. There was nothing striking about her individual features.
But she was gorgeous. She radiated warmth and friendliness, her easy smile an outward expression of inner joy. If one could deduce personality from a photograph, Mandy Gale was the type of person every woman wanted to have as a best friend. The world had lost someone special.
A key rattled in the front door lock and she set the frame back on the dresser feeling as if she’d almost been caught eavesdropping. Colton was home, with dinner. He’d called forty minutes ago to take her order.
She stepped into the kitchen as the door swung open. Colton held up two plastic bags. “Chinese takeout. Courtesy of China Town Buffet.”
She drew in a fragrant breath. “Smells wonderful.”
Colton carried the bags to the kitchen table. “How did everything go today?”
“Fine.” He wasn’t asking about her day. He was asking about Liam’s. Colton Gale wasn’t a man for small talk. “When I took him to day care, he went from me to his teacher without any fuss.”
“Good.”
He disappeared through the door behind him, then returned a minute later, holding Liam. By the time he had him strapped in to his high chair, she’d filled two water glasses and put milk in a sippy cup.
He removed the foam containers from the plastic bags. “I’m guessing there weren’t any threats.”
“No. Just like yesterday.”
“Good.”
He’d wanted her close but not conspicuous. Although he’d explained the situation to the owner of the day care, he didn’t want to alarm the workers or the other parents. So she’d parked a short distance down the road and watched the activity through binoculars.
After laying a cellophane-wrapped package of plastic silverware at each place, Colton sat adjacent to his son at the four-person table, and Jasmine took the chair opposite Colton. Pleasant aromas wafted up from the container in front of her, and her stomach rumbled.
But she waited. She’d learned her first night there that the Gales never ate without saying grace.
Colton took his son’s hand, then hers. The first time, he’d asked if she minded. She’d said no. Praying before meals was a sweet tradition.
When he bowed his head and began to pray, even Liam closed his eyes. Jasmine did, too, but only out of respect for the man sitting across from her. The God Colton worshipped was one she didn’t like very much—an ever-present, all-powerful God who saw the suffering in the world but chose to ignore it. It was much less disturbing to imagine a distant God who set everything in motion, then turned His back to let nature take its course.
For the fourth night in a row, she listened to Colton thank God for His protection over them. She was the one providing the protection, but whatever.
When he finished his prayer, he tore into the cellophane package that held his plastic silverware and napkin. “I called a fencing contractor at lunchtime. I’m meeting him here at noon tomorrow.”
“Good.” The backyard was fenced, and that was currently where Brutus was. But the entire front was unguarded.
Colton continued in his professional no-nonsense tone. “They’ll connect to the existing fence and take it all the way to the road. They told me if I go ahead with the contract tomorrow, they’ll do the work this weekend.”
“Good. Brutus is our first line of defense. It’s best if he can access the entire yard.”
Colton turned his attention to eating, all topics of business thoroughly covered. But the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Though they were all living under the same roof, Colton was keeping that professional distance.
That was fine with her. She wasn’t any more interested in a relationship than he was. When the sting of her latest disaster finally faded and she was ready to put herself out there again, it certainly wouldn’t be for a man who was still grieving the loss of his wife.
Frenzied barking from outside sent her into fight mode, and she sprang to her feet. From what she’d gathered, the dog didn’t bark unless he had a reason to. Colton’s clenched jaw and the lines of worry around his eyes confirmed her suspicions.
She retrieved a flashlight from the kitchen drawer and reached the back door the same time he did. He planted his hand against it, his other arm extended palm up for the flashlight. “I’ll check it out.”
“You need to stay inside. And keep away from the windows.”
He bristled. He was probably used to being the protector, especially with women and children.
But that was the job he’d hired her to do. “I’m the one who’s armed and wearing Kevlar.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re supposed to stay with Liam.”
Bodyguard for Christmas Page 3
