by Elle James
A nurse carrying a clipboard stepped into the room. “Hi, Mr. Stratford. I’m Emma Jenkins. I’ll be your nurse. What brings you here today?” She set the clipboard on the bed beside him and took his injured hand in hers, unwrapping the dish towel. “How’d you get this cut?”
Andrew’s first instinct was to retract his scarred hand. Instead he stared at the gash. “I was pushed over a cliff.”
Emma blinked. “Say again? Someone pushed you over a cliff?”
He nodded, more certain than ever it hadn’t been a ghost or a blast of wind in the fog. “Someone pushed me over the cliff behind my house.”
“Do you want me to notify the sheriff? He can send a deputy out to take your statement while we stitch the wound.”
Though he didn’t like anyone invading his privacy, Andrew nodded. If someone had pushed him, he couldn’t ignore it. What if that someone tried to push Leigha? “I think that would be best.”
Emma waited until the doctor appeared before she slipped out to make that call. Within minutes, a sheriff’s deputy appeared.
“Hi, I’m Gabe McGregor. I believe we’ve met once before.”
Andrew nodded, his lips thinning. “You came to my house when you were looking for a murderer, several months ago.” They’d questioned him as a suspect. “I’m glad you caught him.”
“You and me both,” Gabe said. “I’m sorry I had to question you on that case.”
“Don’t be. I understand. I was the new guy in town.” Andrew gritted his teeth as the doctor stuck a needle in his hand to deaden the area around the cut.
“So tell me what happened.” Gabe pulled a notepad and pen out of his front pocket.
While the doctor and Emma cleaned and stitched the wound, Andrew recounted what had happened.
“And you didn’t see a face?” Deputy McGregor asked.
Andrew shook his head. “It happened so fast. I stepped around the tree, and the next thing I knew, I was clinging to a tree root, thankful for that tree and the root, or I wouldn’t be here to tell you the story.”
The deputy’s brows drew together. “I’m sorry it happened to you. I’ll follow you home and have a look around the area. Maybe there will be some footprints.”
“It’s not safe in the fog. Besides, the cliff edge is primarily rock and moss. That tree on the edge is the only one there. How it found enough soil to grow as big as it is still astounds me.”
“Any idea who might want to hurt you?” McGregor asked.
“No. And it’s got me concerned. I found a loose board on the outside step yesterday. At first I didn’t think anything of it. I just got out a hammer and fixed it. But when I did, I noticed the board wasn’t old or weatherworn. It looked like someone loosened it. I brushed it off as an overactive imagination. But after being shoved off a cliff, I’m rethinking it.”
“I knew your grandfather.” Emma used a wad of sterile gauze to sop up the excess blood from around the wound as the doctor sewed another stitch. “Though the ME ruled his death as accidental, I thought it pretty strange the old man who’d walked two or three miles a day, and had a healthy heart the last time I could get him in for a checkup, should fall over dead on one of his walks. The ME said his heart was fine. He’d died from the fall. Hit his head on a rock.”
Andrew leaned forward. “Are you saying someone murdered him?”
Emma raised both of her hands, wad of bloody cotton and all. “I’m not saying anything. Just the facts.”
“Look, all I know is I came to Cape Churn because I thought it would be a safer, quieter place to raise Leigha. I didn’t want her to grow up in the concrete jungle where I grew up. She deserves a place where she can run and play.” Not a park with a nanny and polluted air.
Andrew knew he was far from the father Leigha deserved, but he wanted her to have a normal childhood, where she could play outdoors, have a pet and be happy.
“Cape Churn can be all of that,” Emma said. “I’ve lived here all my life and love all the cape has to offer. The community is supportive and the summer activities are what most kids dream of. I’d love to teach Leigha how to scuba dive, when she’s a little older.”
Andrew’s heart warmed at the offer. “I want all of that for her, too.”
“I feel a ‘but’ coming,” Deputy McGregor said.
“But, after what happened today, I’m rethinking my decision to bring her here. After I nearly fell to my death, Leigha told me she and the dog were playing with her friend. A man. When I asked her about him, she said he’s been visiting her every day.”
Emma, the deputy and the doctor all frowned.
“Have you had a talk with Leigha about stranger danger?” the doctor asked.
“I have.” Andrew snorted. “She said he’s not a stranger. He’s her friend.”
The doctor completed the last stitch and held the strand out straight.
Emma used a pair of scissors to snip it close to the knot.
The doctor set his tools on the tray. “I’ll leave you in Emma’s capable hands. I have other patients I need to attend.” He peeled off his gloves and gave Andrew a stern glance. “Try not to fall off any more cliffs.”
After the doctor left, Emma cleaned the area around the wound. “Have you considered hiring protection?”
Andrew frowned. “I’ve never hired a bodyguard. Where would I start?”
Emma shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“What about the people Creed, Nicole and Nova work with?” Deputy McGregor asked. “Could they help?”
“Normally they work bigger issues,” Emma said. “You know, save-the-world kind of problems.” She glanced across Andrew’s head at the deputy. “But maybe they have someone who could help while Mr. Stratford goes through the interviewing and hiring process.” She turned her attention back to Andrew. “Do you want me to ask?”
“Do you trust them?” Andrew asked.
Emma nodded. “With my life.”
“How about with the life of your child?” He captured Emma’s gaze and held it.
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Then yes. If I could get someone on a temporary basis that is trustworthy, it will give me time to look for a full-time bodyguard.”
Deputy McGregor closed his notepad and slid it into his pocket. “Tell you what... We’re having dinner at McGregor Manor tomorrow night. Why don’t you and Leigha come? You can discuss it with some of the members of the SOS team then.”
Andrew frowned. “SOS?”
“Stealth Operations Specialists,” Emma clarified. “They’re like the FBI and CIA, only better. Somehow they’ve opened a branch here in Cape Churn. You should come. You can meet all of them, and maybe by tomorrow night they’ll have an answer for you. Or they might have a suggestion of who to hire for the job of bodyguard to you and Leigha.” Emma wrapped a bandage around his hand. “Keep that out of water for a couple of days. In a week you can come in and I’ll remove the stitches. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Emma gave him the routine discharge instructions and a prescription for antibiotics and sent him out to the lobby, where Leigha and Mrs. Purdy waited.
Leigha ran to him and hugged him around the legs. “I was so scared.”
“I’m fine.” He patted the child’s head and lifted her up on his uninjured arm. “Since we’re in town, why don’t we get some ice cream at the Seaside Café?”
Leigha clapped her hands together. “Yes, please.”
The smile on Leigha’s face made warmth spread across Andrew’s chest. He never ceased to be amazed at how much one little human being could make him feel more important than an entire office building of employees.
He vowed to keep this little girl safe, no matter the cost. If it meant hiring a bodyguard, he’d do it. But it had to be someone special. Someone he c
ould trust completely. There weren’t many people he knew who fit that bill. How was he going to trust a stranger to fill that role?
Chapter 2
Dixie Reeves pulled into the parking lot of McGregor Manor. The lovely old home perched on the edge of a cliff outside the small community of Cape Churn, Oregon. In just under twenty-four hours she’d gone from being unemployed to having a job, to getting her first assignment.
What she was supposed to do as a bodyguard to a rich man was beyond her. As a squad leader in the Army, she’d been responsible for her soldiers, the first all-female squad of Airborne Rangers.
She’d done her best as a leader among her peers until one of their special operations had gone bad. They’d been caught in the middle of a firefight. Dix, manning a .60-caliber submachine gun, had remained behind, laying down cover fire for her squad, allowing them to escape. When she’d run out of bullets, she hadn’t had time to put her handgun to her head before she was captured.
Dix shook off the memory of the week she’d spent in hell in an enemy camp where she’d been humiliated, tortured and beaten repeatedly until the Navy SEALs were sent in to extract her.
That was over three years ago. Her life had changed dramatically. Processed out of the Army, she’d spent two of those years as a member of the Mixed Martial Arts fighting community. But the nightmares still lingered.
Dix stared at the lush landscape damp from the previous night’s mist, so foreign to the deserts of Afghanistan and Las Vegas she might as well have been on another planet.
From what she’d been told, the building in front of her had once been a rich man’s home, but had been turned into a bed-and-breakfast by the remaining members of the family. As a home, it was larger than anything Dix had ever lived in. As a bed-and-breakfast, it was quaint and had a heck of a view of Cape Churn.
Her new boss, Royce Fontaine, had tracked her down to her small apartment in Las Vegas, where she’d been sorting through what was left of her belongings after donating most of them to a local women’s shelter. He’d said he’d been following her career. At first, she’d assumed he’d meant her career as an MMA fighter. She’d done pretty well, winning one championship after another, focusing all of her anger and frustration into her fists.
Her opponents didn’t have a chance. The women she’d fought had never been through the intense training she’d survived as one of the first women to pass the Army Ranger training program. Nor had they been tortured in an enemy camp. The anger had fueled her fists until one day she’d gone too far and left an opponent comatose with a very slim chance of recovery.
Royce thought she’d be a good fit for his team. Dix wasn’t so sure. But with no other skills to add to her résumé, what else was she fit for? She might have gotten a job as a security guard at one of the casinos, but the noise bothered her, making her head ache and the tensions to multiply.
So, now she was going to be a member of the SOS team. What exactly did an agent with the Stealth Operations Specialists do? Royce had told her, Anything that needed to be done.
Then he’d gotten word from one of his other agents that a wealthy man needed bodyguard services on a temporary basis while he interviewed and hired one he could trust.
“But what does a bodyguard do?” she’d asked Fontaine.
And he’d answered, “Whatever needs to be done.”
“Not helping,” she muttered as she walked toward the bed-and-breakfast. Hopefully the other members of the SOS team could shed light on her responsibilities. She couldn’t afford to lose this job. It might be the only offer she got, and the pay was good. As far as she could tell, all she had to do was keep a rich dude alive.
How hard could that be in the States? They didn’t have Taliban or Islamic State fighters...at least, not that she knew of.
“Hello. May I help you?” a female voice called out from the front door of the manor.
Dix shaded her eyes and squinted. “Is this the McGregor Bed-and-Breakfast?”
“It is.” An auburn-haired woman stepped out onto the porch and smiled. “I’m Molly McGregor, one of the owners. Do you need a place to stay tonight?”
“I don’t think so,” Dix said. “I’m supposed to meet someone here.”
The woman frowned. “Meet someone? Anyone in particular?” she asked, her smile warm and welcoming.
“Royce Fontaine sent me. Does that name ring a bell?”
Ms. McGregor’s eyes widened. “You’re D. Reeves?”
Dix nodded. “Dixie Reeves.”
The bed-and-breakfast owner clapped a hand over her mouth, smothering what sounded suspiciously like a giggle. She dropped her hand, a sparkle dancing in her eyes. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“We?” Dix didn’t like the sound of that. A single contact was all she’d been led to believe would be waiting for her in Cape Churn.
“Yes,” Molly continued, cheerful and happy, something Dix couldn’t begin to relate to. “The gang’s all here. We thought you’d be here an hour ago.”
“My plane was delayed by weather over Vegas or I would have been here sooner.”
“No worries. I kept your dinner warm.” She waved a hand. “Come inside. Everyone is waiting for you.”
“Everyone?” Dix halted with one foot on the bottom step. “I was told to meet my contact here.” After quitting the MMA circuit, Dix had no desire to step in front of a crowd of people ever again. Whether it was a throng of three thousand or a party of five, she wouldn’t perform like a trained monkey to the delight of others. In her mind, being a bodyguard was being invisible until she needed to step forward to protect her client. She’d actually looked forward to being invisible. No celebrity status. No paparazzi. After dropping out of the MMA, she never wanted to be in the public eye again.
“The entire West Coast office of SOS agents is in attendance tonight. You’ll get a chance to meet all of them.” Molly grinned. “Don’t worry—they won’t bite. Unless you try to take their clam chowder. I managed to save a bowl for you.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to meet my contact out here, get my marching orders and go on to my client.”
Molly’s smile slipped. “Oh, okay. But your client is inside, as well. He’s having clam chowder, too.” The woman’s smile returned. “You might as well have dinner with us. I think your client gave his housekeeper the night off from cooking.”
Dix squared her shoulders and continued up the steps. She wasn’t getting out of the dog and pony show. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m here to work, not socialize.”
“Is that our newest SOS agent?” A dark-skinned man, with brown-black eyes, a full, sensual mouth and a slight Hispanic accent, stepped through the front door behind Molly and slipped his arm around the redhead’s waist. He frowned, his head tilting to one side. “Dix Reeves? The Dix Reeves?” His face split into a wide smile. “Are you a guest of the bed-and-breakfast?”
So much for being invisible. Dix sighed. “No, I’m not here to stay. I’m here on work-related business.”
“Dix, this is Casanova Valdez. Or Nova for short.” Molly turned to the man. “Nova, this is the agent Royce sent.”
Nova’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand.” He flicked a hand toward Dix. “That’s Dix Reeves, one of the most talented MMA fighters ever.”
“MMA?” Molly asked, her brows rising. “I’m sorry—is that another one of your military acronyms?”
Nova laughed out loud. “No. It stands for Mixed Martial Arts. Dix, here, is at the top of her game.” He reached out a hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
Dix held out her hand and, with a firm grip, shook Nova’s.
“Wait—what did you say?” Nova didn’t release her hand. “You’re the agent Fontaine sent?”
With a nod, Dix extracted her hand. “That’s me.”
“Not anymore. I quit a week ago.”
“That’s a shame. I watched your last fight against Peggy Pounder. You threw some wicked punches and kicks. I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite that intense.”
Her lips thinned. Intense was one way to describe the fight. Insane was closer to the truth. She’d had a particularly bad night’s sleep, plagued by nightmares from her time as a guest of the Taliban. She’d gone into the ring, not to claim a championship, but to beat the demons out of her head.
She’d nearly killed her opponent.
Molly touched Nova’s arm. “Was that the fight you were watching last weekend?”
Nova nodded. “Incredible.”
Molly’s brows knit, her smile fading. “Didn’t that woman end up in the hospital?”
Dix’s belly clenched. “Yes. She’s still in a coma. It’s not one of my prouder moments.” Dix stared at Nova. “Are you one of Fontaine’s agents?”
With a grave nod, Nova answered, “I am. But I’m not your contact. That would be Tazer. She’s inside.”
“Good. I’d like to get on to my assignment.”
“Well, that’s the place to start.” Nova held open the door. “Just follow Molly. And don’t forget to try her amazing clam chowder. It’s muy bueno.”
Molly entered the manor first. “Everyone is in the dining room.”
Dix followed, bracing herself for more questions than she was ready to answer. If Nova recognized her, she hadn’t done a good job of blending in. She’d have to buy some hair dye and go from blonde to brunette to hide her identity. In the meantime, she squared her shoulders and turned toward the sea of faces in front of her.
The men pushed back from the table and stood.
Molly turned to her. “Everyone, this is D. Reeves. Otherwise known as Dixie Reeves or—”
“I’ll be damned.” A woman sitting at the other end of the table stood. “Dix Reeves. Mixed Martial Arts World Champion.” The woman had long blond hair, combed straight and hanging in a soft curtain down her back. In tan slacks and a cool, white-cotton blouse, she could have been a model for one of the fashion magazines. She stepped away from her seat and rounded the table, a smile quirking the corners of her lips. “Fontaine sure knows how to pick them.” She stopped in front of Dix and held out her hand. “Nicole Steele. But my friends call me Tazer.”