Bodyguard Under the Mistletoe. Cassie Miles
have left his widow in such bad shape. “Everything?”
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Her gaze turned downward. “I haven’t told anybody.”
“You can tell me,” he said. “It won’t go any further.”
“Are bodyguards confidential? Like lawyers.”
“Not in a legal sense. But I wouldn’t have many clients if I started telling them their business.”
“I’m not your client,” she pointed out.
“As of this minute, I’m working for you. No charge. Pro bono.”
“Deal.” She held out her hand for him to shake before realizing that he was holding a gun in his right, and his left was in a sling. Her confusion ended with a fist bump against his left elbow.
“Now you can tell me anything,” he said.
“There’s not much to say, really. Wyatt had an ex-wife, and two adult children from that marriage. They weren’t happy with the terms of his will. Their attorneys froze everything that was jointly owned, including our checking and savings accounts. When I couldn’t pay the bills, they swooped in. The only reason I have this cabin is that Wyatt signed the deed over to me on our first anniversary. It’s in my name only.”
“You must have contested the family’s actions.”
“Not as much as I should have. Obviously.” There was an edge of bitterness in her voice. “I didn’t have a taste for arguing. Nothing seemed to matter, except for my daughter. It took all my energy to crawl out of bed and take care of her.”
“You let everything go.” Probably even that diamond necklace she’d been wearing in the photograph.
“Didn’t seem worth the effort to hold on. Not when I’d already lost the most important thing in my life.”
A caravan of vehicles from the Carlisle Ranch made the turn off the main road and poured toward them. Jesse would have liked to be the man in control; leadership was natural to him. But he was in no shape to be calling the shots.
He looked down at the slender, delicate woman who stood beside him. “I’m sorry, Fiona.”
“Don’t be.” A mysterious Mona Lisa smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Starting over isn’t the worst thing that could happen.”
Two trucks and a Jeep parked beside the Longbridge SUV. Nine or ten armed men disembarked. Through a blurry haze, Jesse watched the guy who seemed to be in charge disperse the other men to surround the house. Then he ran across the yard toward Jesse and Fiona.
“Special Agent J. D. Burke,” he introduced himself. “You must be Jesse Longbridge.”
“Must be.” Burke was a big guy, as broad-shouldered as a linebacker. Standing next to Fiona, he looked like a giant—a competent, intelligent giant. “You got here fast.”
“We were already planning to come over here when Wentworth called. Carolyn mentioned that Fiona heard voices last night.”
“But I haven’t actually seen anyone,” she piped up. “Agent Burke, you’re not going to break my front door down, are you?”
“I’d rather not.”
“The back is unlocked.”
He gave a brisk nod. “We’ll enter through the back. You both stay here and keep an eye on the front. Does that sound all right to you, Jesse?”
“It does.”
He appreciated the way Burke had consulted him before taking action. Jesse wanted to think he was still capable. Like all marines, he was a sharpshooter. Even with blurred vision, he trusted his aim. “Stay behind me, Fiona. If I need to open fire, you should run to the back of the house.”
“I’ve never done anything like this,” she whispered.
“You shouldn’t have to. You’re a mom.”
“That’s exactly why I should know how to protect myself and my daughter.”
From the rear of the house, he heard Burke making his entrance. Jesse’s muscles tensed. He raised his handgun and stood ready to shoot.
No one came out.
After a long couple of moments, he heard Wentworth call to him, “All clear, Jesse. There’s nobody in the house.”
Staying focused had been a strain. His gun hand dropped to his side. He sagged against the wall. As soon as his eyes closed, darkness welled up around him. Sweet and silent. For three days, he had rested in the embrace of darkness, peaceful as a tomb.
He felt a hand against his cheek. Her touch was cool, soothing. He blinked and focused on her wide gray eyes.
“Jesse? Are you all right?”
“Fine,” he mumbled.
As she studied him, her face filled with concern. Though her lips didn’t move, he heard an echo of her soft voice inside his head. Starting over isn’t so bad.
After his failure to protect Nicole, he wouldn’t mind having a fresh start. A new direction for his life.
He’d been looking for a sign, a reason he had come back from death. And he sensed that Fiona might hold the answer to his deepest questions. She might provide him with a reason to go on living.
Standing in her front room, Fiona wasn’t sure whether she should be scared or embarrassed that she’d reported an intruder who didn’t exist.
She couldn’t turn to Jesse for guidance; he’d disappeared into the kitchen, moving slowly. When they were outside and he leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, she’d thought he was going to keel over, which wasn’t surprising considering his injuries. Carolyn had told her that he was unconscious for three days. Jesse was still weak and ought to be in bed. Not that he’d ever admit it. Typical man! When men got sick, they either put on a macho attitude or curled up in bed and whined like babies.
Agent Burke was giving the orders. “Everybody out,” he said. “We need to spread out and search.”
It went against her instincts as a hostess to have these men troop through her house without offering hospitality. “I should make coffee.”
“Later,” Burke said.
Turning away from her, he spoke to the man who had been in the car with Jesse. Wentworth? Burke rattled off instructions about how the outbuildings should be searched and reminded him that they should proceed with caution.
Fiona could see why Carolyn had fallen for this big, rugged FBI agent. Not only was Burke a fine-looking man, but he seemed strong-willed enough to stand up to Carolyn’s dynamic personality. These two would strike sparks off each other for sure.
While the searchers dispersed, she asked, “Is there something you’d like me to do, Agent Burke?”
“I’ll get the sheriff over here to dust for prints, but I doubt we’ll find anything. You keep a tidy house, Fiona.”
“Except for the enclosed porch off the kitchen. I’m using that as my pottery studio.”
“Let’s take a look around and see if anything’s missing.”
Dutifully, she scanned the living-room furniture and the shelves near the door where she stored some of her finished pottery. The TV was still there. And the computer. Nothing seemed out of place.
Burke followed her down the hall to her bedroom where she checked the contents of her jewelry box that rested on the knotty pine dresser. “Nothing appears to be missing, but the door to my walk-in closet is open. I didn’t leave it that way.”