Secret Service Rescue. Elle James
face. “I’ll stay outside her room and make sure no unauthorized personnel enter.”
“I owe you a debt I can never repay.”
“No payment necessary. It’s part of my job.”
Patrick returned to Shelby’s room, entering quietly, closing the door behind him.
Daniel’s leg ached, and he was tired but still wound up by the events of the evening. He found a chair and propped it against the wall beside Shelby’s room. Too preoccupied to sit, he paced, dreading the boredom of being a bodyguard at the same time as he embraced the job, knowing he was protecting a woman who’d done nothing to become a target other than being born into the wrong family.
After a while, Daniel sat to relieve the strain on his leg.
Several hours passed, the clock hands spinning around the dial to six in the morning. Patrick O’Hara emerged from Shelby’s room, eyes bloodshot, clothes wrinkled and chin stubbled with a day’s growth of beard. “I’m going to hit the hay and then find a cup of coffee and a meal if such exists at this hour. Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you.” Daniel stood and stretched the kinks out of his sore muscles. “You might as well take your time. I’ll be here.”
Patrick left, shuffling down the long hallway to the elevator.
A nurse made her rounds, checking on the patients. When she came to Shelby’s door, Daniel entered behind her. She checked the position of the IV needle, the bag of fluid and the monitors and shone a light into Shelby’s eyes. When she finished, she left the room and Daniel stayed.
Someone had wiped the dirt and soot from Shelby’s face. Clean and free of makeup, she looked younger than her twenty-three years.
She stirred, her hand clenching and her lips twitching. Behind her eyelids, her eyes moved, but she didn’t open them. Daniel wondered what she was dreaming about.
She raised a hand to her chest and moaned, the sound so sad and mournful, Daniel couldn’t help himself. He lifted her hand and held it, hoping his touch would ease her nightmares and allow her to sleep.
She curled into him, tucking his hand beneath her cheek, and moaned again.
His chest tightened and he leaned over her, wrapping his arms around her, shielding her from the bad guys in her dreams.
* * *
Shelby walked to her car, carrying the satchel with all her notes, the copies of the pages she had yet to read and the half-eaten sandwich she’d set aside as she’d dug deeper into the shelves of case studies and books.
Time had slipped away before she realized she should have left the library an hour before. Now she hurried, knowing her grandfather would be checking on her to see that she got back to the house by midnight.
Her car was the only one left in the parking lot, parked near a large tree. When she’d arrived, the sun had been bright and hot, the tree providing blessed shade on an unusually sultry spring day. Now the tree loomed over her two-door economy car, casting darker shadows in the light from a million stars overhead.
A trickle of apprehension skittered across her skin, making her walk faster, keys in her hand, ready to pop the locks and jump inside. Not that there was anything to worry about. She’d left the library this late on many occasions and had no trouble.
She neared her vehicle and hit the lock button on her key fob; the locks clicked open. As she reached for the door handle, a shadow detached from the base of the tree and lunged forward.
Too shocked to scream, Shelby swung her satchel containing her notes, laptop and wallet, hitting her attacker in the temple.
He grunted and staggered to the side, bringing a hand to his head.
Before Shelby could run, a second attacker, also wearing dark clothes and a ski mask, shot out of the shadows, grabbed her and clamped a gloved hand over her mouth.
She fought, kicking and twisting, but the man was much stronger and bigger than her five feet two inches. He lifted her off her feet.
A van drove up, her captor leaped in, still carrying her, and the man she’d hit dived in beside them.
“No,” she moaned. This was not happening. She couldn’t let it happen. Wasn’t she smarter than this? Shelby struggled, but the arms holding her tightened, the hand over her mouth cutting off her air. The shadowed interior of the van faded. The next thing she was aware of was smoke. She lay on a floor, the smoke growing thicker around her, filling her lungs, blocking her view of the door, her only escape.
A figure materialized out of the drifting smoke, a tall, broad-shouldered man. He scooped her up into his arms and ran out of the house. She nestled against his chest, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. She breathed in and out, the acrid smell of smoke still burning her nostrils. She was afraid to open her eyes, afraid that when she did she’d still be in that basement, locked in the dark. A captive.
Shelby moaned, her fingers curling around fabric. No.
“Hey, Shelby. You’re having a bad dream. Wake up.”
“No. I don’t want to go back in the dark.”
“It’s okay. You’re free.”
The soothing sound of a man’s voice lured her out of the basement and into the light. She opened her eyes and looked up at a long fluorescent light mounted on a white ceiling in a clean room.
“I’m not in the basement?”
The man chuckled. “No, you’re not.”
She glanced up into the green eyes of a stranger and jerked back, fighting to be free of his hold on her.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m the Secret Service agent assigned to protect—”
She scrambled over the bed and would have fallen off if he hadn’t grabbed her wrist and stopped her.
Shelby winced. “Ouch.”
He frowned, glancing down at where his hand clasped her raw skin. “What the hell?”
“Let me go.”
“I will when you promise you won’t throw yourself off the bed.”
She stared at him, not sure if he was friend or foe and not willing to give up her freedom again so soon. “I promise,” she whispered, tensing, ready to move fast once he let go.
“I’m going to release you and step away from the bed. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m here to protect you, not harm you.”
“How do I know that? I don’t even know you.”
“I’m letting go to reach for my credentials.” He raised his free hand. “Honest.”
“Okay, let go, already.”
He did and she dropped to the ground on the opposite side of the bed, dragging the tubes in her arms with her. The heart monitor wires ripped loose and the machine set off an alarm. Her knees refused to hold her, shaking so badly they buckled, and she felt herself falling, her head swimming as she went down. The IV stand tilted and crashed to the floor.
The man flung himself across the bed and caught her beneath her arms before she hit the tile.
“You’ve suffered a head injury,” he said softly. “You really should take it easy for a couple days.”
“I’m fine.” She leaned into him despite her desire to be free of him. His muscles were solid beneath her fingertips and his breath warmed the side of her neck. “I can stand on my own.”
“Prove it.”
She fought the fog threatening to engulf her and willed her legs to straighten, all the while leaning into the man and his broad shoulders. “I’ve got it now.” Shelby planted both hands on the side of the bed, sagging against