The Bride's Bodyguard. Beth Cornelison
body against his spiked his blood pressure and had heat flashing over his skin. He’d barely had a chance to catch his breath since Trench Coat and his merry band of thugs had opened fire, and comforting Paige wasn’t helping him focus.
As he fought down the desire that wound him tight, his thoughts jumped back to the scene at the church, and a shudder racked him. Jake had been part of a convoy in Iraq that was ambushed. The gun-and mortar fire had been deafening, the casualties high and the resulting chaos devastating to morale. But today’s attack, with so many civilian lives at stake, had shaken Jake far worse. Against such lopsided odds, Jake had felt overwhelmed…and useless. An unsettling sensation for a man trained by the navy to be among the most deadly, the most effective, the most skilled.
When Paige’s tears subsided to sniffles, she backed from his embrace and sent him a chagrined glance. “I’m sorry. I just…it’s all so—”
He shook his head and twitched his lips in an dismissive grin. “Forget it.” He rubbed the back of his neck and blew a deep breath from puffed cheeks. “I’ll…give you a minute to change and pull yourself together. Then we need to make tracks.”
She nodded, and he climbed out of the backseat, scanning the surrounding area for anything suspicious, anything helpful. A moment later, she opened the back door and stepped out, wearing a pair of formfitting blue jeans and a New Orleans Saints T-shirt. Sports-team apparel had never looked so good. Paige had taken the rest of the bobby pins from her hair, and raven ringlets hung around her shoulders. Finger-combing her hair back from her face, she gave him a quick nod. “I’m ready.”
Before they left, Jake searched the dead driver, found the man’s cell phone and dialed 911. He told the operator where to find the body, and when asked for his name, Jake set the phone on the front seat, line still open, and signaled for Paige to follow him.
She hoisted her suitcase, which he immediately took from her, and as they started toward the road, she gave the bullet-riddled, ribbon-and-paint-decorated honeymoon getaway car one last sad look before falling in step next to him.
For an instant, sympathy plucked at him. No one deserved to have their wedding day ruined, and Paige’s disappointment was palpable.
Then the bigger picture reared its head, and he shook off the silly sentimental lapse.
National security. Well-armed terrorists. His client shot and bleeding.
What was a spoiled wedding compared to the life-and-death stakes they faced? He had no business letting emotion interfere with his duty to his job.
Keep the bead safe at all cost.
Jake hesitated.
Paige has what they want.
“Wait.” He turned back to the limo. “Get the dress. Bring it with us.”
Paige tipped her head, her gaze querying. “Don’t you think it’s a bit cumbersome to carry? Not to mention still as conspicuous in our arms as on me.”
He frowned. “I’m not looking forward to dragging it with us, but Brent said protect the bead. Your dress is covered in beading.” He scowled. “I don’t see how the beads on the dress could be what he wants protected, but after getting shot at because of this bead already, I’m not willing to take the chance that it’s not one of the embellishments on your gown. How about you?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I see your point.”
He grabbed the dress and slung it over his arm, bunching up the yards of flowing satin to keep from tripping over it as they headed toward the street.
She sent him a side glance that asked, “Now what?”
Good question. When he’d signed on to be Scofield’s bodyguard, he’d imagined the job would be a cushy assignment, indulging an old friend’s belief that he was being followed, that he needed protection. All Brent had told him was that a business deal had gone sour, and he suspected the other party might try to hurt him. Jake hadn’t asked questions, dismissing Scofield’s concern as paranoia. His first mistake.
And he’d never bargained for extended duty, guarding his client’s bride, a woman whose guileless green eyes and body built for sin were distractions he didn’t need if he wanted to keep them alive.
“We’ll thumb a ride back to town,” he said, answering her unspoken question and trying not to grimace when pain from his knee shot fiery bolts through his leg. “From there, we’ll rent a car to get…wherever.”
“Look, I…I have two tickets to Jamaica in my purse. The plane leaves in three hours. Why don’t we use the tickets to get out of the country and—”
“No.” Jake imagined Paige in a bikini on a white-sand beach with a fruity island drink in her hand, and another blast of heat slammed him in the gut. “Do you think those thugs don’t know where you were headed on your honeymoon?”
She raised her chin, blinked, then frowned her consternation. “But that’s—”
“I guarantee they also know where you live, what you drive, where you eat lunch with your girlfriends, where you buy your four-dollar coffee and what route you use to get to the office.”
Her troubled look grew stormier, an edge of panic creeping into her gaze. Slowing her pace, Paige pressed a hand to her chest and wheezed, her breathing shallow.
“Hey, don’t do that. You’ll hyperventilate.” Jake seized her arms and drilled her with a hard look. “I need you to keep it together for me, all right? ”
She closed her eyes and nodded. Sucking in a few deep breaths, she flexed and balled her hands at her sides, and when she met his gaze again, she seemed in better control.
“I won’t. I’m not going to fall apart on you. I promise. This is just all so overwhelming, so out of the blue. I don’t understand any of it, and—” She cut herself off with another deep inhalation. “I’ll be fine. Really.”
The rumble of a car engine called his attention to the road, where a late-model sedan rolled past. He stepped toward the traffic lane and waved the car down.
“Are you sure hitching’s the best idea? How do we know we can trust them?” she asked.
Jake nodded toward the elderly occupants of the car. “Look at them. What’s not to trust? Besides, if grandma and grandpa do give us trouble, I can take them both down before they know what hit ‘em.”
The elderly driver slowed to a stop and rolled down his window. “You kids all right?”
“We could use a ride into town. We had a bit of car trouble a little ways back.” He hitched his thumb down the road, and when the older man’s gaze drifted to the wedding dress, the blood on Jake’s shirt and the tear tracks on Paige’s cheeks, Jake added, “Our honeymoon’s not off to a very good start. I got a nosebleed and ruined my shirt, then the car broke down.” He glanced at Paige, sending her a silent signal with his eyes, asking for her cooperation. “And my wife is convinced we’re going to miss our flight to Jamaica.”
The older man turned to Paige. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. We’ll take you back to town, and if you call the airline, I bet they could reschedule you for a later flight.”
Paige forced a smile. “I hope so. Everything else has gone wrong today. I’d hate to think we’ll miss our plane.”
Jake opened the back door for Paige, and she climbed into the car. Once they were settled in the sedan, Paige and Jake listened to the older couple regale them with stories of the mishaps from their wedding fifty-two years ago and many of the disagreements since.
As they approached town, their elderly driver turned from the main road onto a side street that led into a residential area.
“Henry, where are you going? This isn’t the right way!” the woman fussed.
“It’s a shortcut.”
Henry’s