The Bride's Bodyguard. Beth Cornelison

The Bride's Bodyguard - Beth  Cornelison


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think if you saw a car slow down as it drove past your house?”

      She leaned back against the seat and sighed her resignation. “I’d think they were casing the property with ill intent. I’d find it suspicious.”

      “Did you get anything on that pass? Picture the scene in your head and analyze it.”

      Paige chewed her bottom lip and closed her eyes. “The parking lot was emptier than usual for this time of night, but that’s probably because we let so many employees have today off for the wedding. There would only be a skeleton crew working.” She scrunched her nose and, angling her head, met his gaze across the dark front seat. “And there were more security cars than usual. Two at the front gate instead of one, and I think I saw another near the main entrance. Why would—?” Her expression said she’d answered her own question.

      “Apparently after what happened today at church, your dad saw the connection to Bancroft Industries, as well, and decided to beef up security.”

      A deep V creased her brow. “I should be with my family. This mess affects them and the business as much as me. Maybe my dad could help us figure out what the bead is. Even though he’s not involved with whatever Brent has done, my dad knows Bancroft Industries inside out. He could—”

      “How do you know he’s not involved?”

      “My father is not involved with terrorists!” Paige’s jade eyes flashed with anger.

      “Twenty-four hours ago you’d have said the same about Scofield.”

      “That’s different. I know my father, and he’s not—”

      “All right.” Jake raised a hand in concession. Now was not the time to argue that point. He just prayed they didn’t find evidence in Scofield’s files that implicated the senior Bancroft. He’d hate to see Paige disillusioned, heartbroken if her father had a hand in something illegal, even traitorous. “What else did you notice?”

      She shook her head. “I didn’t have time to see much else. Can you drive by again?”

      “This car may be bland, but if we make another pass, we’ll be noticed.”

      She frowned. “So that’s it? One quick drive-by is your idea of reconnaissance?”

      He quirked an eyebrow and gave her a smug grin. “If you’re good, once is enough. And I’m very good,” he said, his voice dipping.

      He hadn’t intended the seductive timbre, but the cant of her head and spark of intrigue that simmered in her gaze told him clearly that she’d heard the unspoken message in his tone.

      “Let’s hope so,” she replied smoothly.

      Jake shoved down the kick of libido that tightened his muscles. Sexual banter with the woman he was supposed to be guarding was just the kind of distraction that could get them killed. Gripping the steering wheel harder, he refocused the surge of energy toward finding a place to leave the car where they could make a quick getaway if needed.

      

      Ten minutes later, they approached the Bancroft Industries property on foot, skirting the parking lot and staying hidden in the woods that bordered three sides of the facility. Jake did a quick scan of the area, noting the location of security cameras, parked cars and shadowed corners where someone could be hiding.

      He took Paige’s hand in his, then nodded toward the car nearest them in the parking lot. “That’s our first stop. Stay low and keep up. Ready?”

      “Is all this cloak-and-dagger stuff really necessary?” she whispered. “This is my family’s company. I’ve worked here since I was an intern the summer after my high school graduation. I should be able to walk in the front door, without the spy games, and without anyone questioning me.”

      “Except that it’s your wedding night, your fiancé is in the hospital and the same gunmen who opened fire at your ceremony would like nothing better than to see you walk through the front door so they can grab you and torture you until you tell them where the bead is.”

      Her eyes filled with fear. “I only meant—”

      “We run on three.” They didn’t have time for her to lament what should have been. They could have already been spotted at the edge of the woods. He hiked onto his shoulder the empty backpack he’d brought to carry out their booty. “One. Two. Three.”

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