His Bodyguard

by Greiman, Lois

  “You were supposed to run.”

  “What?” His eyes stung, but crying seemed kind of sissy, so he decided not to.

  “When I diverted the bull, you were supposed to run.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” He tried for a self-effacing grin. It didn’t come off so good. “You should have said so.”

  “Thought you’d know.”

  “You’ll have to move back,” said a paramedic. “We’re going to take her to the hospital.”

  “I’m going with her.”

  “But your leg—”

  “I’m going with her,” Nathan repeated.

  Her gurney was lifted from the ground and slid into the ambulance. Nathan’s leg hurt like hell as he climbed in beside her, but he ignored the pain. Swooning was cute when she did it, but didn’t seem right for his macho character.

  The doors closed behind them.

  “You hurt your leg,” she said.

  “It’s been busted before.”

  “You broke it?”

  She grimaced as she tried to sit up. He pushed her back down.

  “Can’t you give her something for the pain?” Nathan asked, worry sluicing through him.

  “I was just going to do that,” said the paramedic.

  “No!” Brenna objected, but the syringe had already been emptied into her IV. “I’ve got to guard you.” Her eyes looked desperate.

  “Relax,” Nathan pleaded. “Let me take care of you this once.”

  “Your leg…” She looked like she was going to cry.

  He tightened his grip on her hand. “They’ll take care of it at the hospital. I’ll be close. Please, don’t worry.”

  But he could tell she did, for she was fighting to stay alert

  They turned a corner. The ambulance came to a halt and the doors swung open. She was lifted out and rolled away.

  Nathan hurried to keep up.

  “What the hell are you doing, Fox? Get your butt in a wheelchair.” Sarge’s voice was gruff as he hustled over from his car with Shauna right behind him.

  Brenna lifted her lids with a stubborn effort. “Watch Nathan,” she rasped.

  “Everything’ll be all right Nate’s tough,” Shauna said.

  Brenna turned her gaze messily to Sarge, and he nodded.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, his expression hard. “I won’t mess up this time.”

  STRANGE IMAGES BUZZED through Brenna’s mind like disembodied butterflies. Flashes of reality mixed in a world of make-believe—bulls in clown pants, a rodeo in the bathroom, Nathan riding a platinum record down a twisted trail. The world leveled off, leaving her with a few bright images, Nathan’s smile, the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand. Laughter and sunlight and silly lyrics to beautiful songs.

  Brenna smiled and opened her eyes. The room was dark, but even without her glasses she could tell she was in a hospital. Memories rushed back in a painful wave.

  Nathan! She sat up. A hundred myriad pains sparked through her. She gasped for breath and remembered more.

  Nathan was safe. Sarge and Shauna had promised to protect him. She carefully lay back down. They were two of his oldest friends and would take care of things until she could. What she must do now was think. Figure things out Someone had left a letter in Nathan’s kitchen. Who? And if he planned Nathan any harm, why hadn’t he done something at the rodeo? It seemed the obvious place, what with the bulls—

  Brenna’s mind stumbled to a halt. The bulls! Her brain spun into action. The bull, sweaty, absolutely still in his chute. Why would he run into the rail, unless…The smear of blood on his shoulder! Could he have been given an injection? Drugged? By whom? How?

  Answers jumbled in her head.

  “Nathan!” she gasped. The world spun momentarily as she swung her feet to the floor. But she focused on the door.

  There was no time to lose! Not an instant! She hustled, chilled and panicked, into the hall. The light struck her eyes. Where was he? Which room?

  “Nathan!” She pushed a door open and switched on a light The bed was empty. She hurried to the next room. A blond woman sat up groggily when she opened the door.

  Brenna turned away. Where? Her gaze fell on a chair next to a room door. She spun toward it. The floor wavered as she rushed across it. The door swung open beneath her hand. She lurched inside.

  “Shauna!” Brenna tried to scream. It came out as a squeak and stopped in the middle.

  From beside Nathan’s bed, a bulldog face turned toward her. A syringe was held in rubber-gloved hands.

  “Sarge,” she whispered.

  His expression of shock turned to anger. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Sarge,” she said again, stunned to immobility. “Why?”

  “He’s a user.” His tone was flat.

  “What?” She shook her head, trying to rid herself of this new nightmare. But she couldn’t wake up.

  “He was nothing. Just a hick farm kid with a grin and a guitar. Shauna and me, we were the show, but Fox…he knows how to use folks.” He took a step toward her. “Don’t he?”

  She backed away, shaking her head.

  “Don’t believe me? You should. But women always fall for him. Shauna learned her lesson. The letters were her idea. But you figured that out, didn’t you? She wrote them, then sent them off from different places. Except the last two. I slipped the one into his hotel room just to see the look on her face. Tipped it right out of my hat.” He grinned.

  “Then the accidents—”

  Sarge laughed. “The accidents were accidents. But, God, it was fun to watch him pretend he wasn’t worried, and all the time he was sweating like a pig. I wasn’t about to let him die before his time. I had it planned so perfect I could see the headlines ‘The Fox dies as public as he lives.’ But…”

  He shrugged, lifting the syringe. “I always have a backup plan.”

  “Why?” Brenna whispered.

  “Any idea what it’s like to have your dream pulled out from under you? But maybe you do, ‘cause you’re not really a bodyguard, are you, Brenna Theresa O’Shay?”

  “You’re the one who called Bartman about me.”

  He chuckled. “Jesus, how I laughed when he picked you. Was just like him to fall for a woman, and just like a woman to fall for him. Shauna was just as stupid, till she hooked a bigger fish. She’s a user too. Never thought she’d have the guts to kill him, though. But I guess I was wrong, ‘cause look.” He held up the syringe and grinned. “Her fingerprints are all over this.”

  “You’re framing her,” Brenna said.

  He chuckled. “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for at first. But you don’t have to go down with this, O’Shay. It’ll be our secret. You can even be the one that busts Shauna. And I’ll give you a first-rate recommendation.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “I’m inspired,” he contradicted. “There is a difference.”

  “They’ll know Shauna wasn’t here.”

  “She was here,” he said. “Seconds ago. Same time the nurse saw me go into the john. Hospitals are terrible understaffed these days. Shauna bitches about it all the time. Nobody saw me come out of the john or come in here. They’ll all think Shauna did it. Jilted lover and all that. Her syringe.” He lifted it as evidence. “Epinephrine for the bull. Pentothal for Fox. All taken from Shauna’s hospital. She’ll deny it, of course. But it’ll be obvious, specially when I tell them ‘bout her letters. Fox’ll be dead. I’ll be grieving. I tried so hard to protect him. Everyone knows I did. Only wild card is you, O’Shay,” he said and took a step toward her. “And he’s used you just like he did the rest of us.”

  “This’ll never work,” she said, backing away.

  “Why? Because of Fox?” He nodded toward the bed. “He’s a lucky bastard, but he’s pumped to the gills with painkillers. He won’t wake up. All I got to worry about is you,” he said, and lunged.

  Brenna tried to dodge, to strike, to do something, but her mind was numb and her muscles fro
zen. Sarge’s hand closed over her throat. The syringe darted nearer.

  But suddenly there was a crash behind him.

  Sarge pivoted about, but Nathan was already swinging. The telephone crashed against Sarge’s skull. He flopped sideways, but came up with a roar, syringe held like a knife as he lunged forward. Nathan jumped back, but his splint crashed into the leg of the bed and he fell.

  “No!” Brenna yelled and spinning round, slammed her bare heel into Sarge’s cranium. He reeled sideways. She gave him no time to recover. Gripping both hands together, she swung her fists. They caught him in the left ear. He went down in a clatter of bottles and bedpans.

  Gasping in pain, Brenna sprang at him from all fours and hit him square on the back. He crumbled like a house of cards and lay still.

  The door sprang open. Brenna spared one quick glance over her shoulder, but remained just as she was, her knees on his back and her hands in his collar. Three people stood in the doorway, their mouths open, their eyes wide.

  “Call the police!” she gasped.

  The trio remained staring with open mouths.

  Brenna scowled. Now that the excitement was over, pain was snapping through her ribcage like electricity through a wire. “Call the police,” she snapped.

  The only woman in the group spun into the hall in search of a telephone. The men continued to stare.

  “What’s the matter with you? Haven’t you seen a bodyguard before?”

  Nathan, still sprawled on his back at the foot of the bed, cleared his throat. “I think they maybe haven’t seen that much of a bodyguard before,” he said.

  She tried to form a question, but he explained before she managed.

  “These hospital gowns weren’t made for your life-style, O’Shay.”

  She snatched the back of her gown closed and sputtered, “Sweet—”

  “What’s going on here?” A dark-haired man pushed his way into the room. Four others followed him.

  “Shamus!” Brenna gasped, still crouched like a tree frog atop Sarge.

  “Are you Fox?” the closest man asked.

  Nathan scooted to his feet as answers to unasked questions tumbled into his head. The blond guy was the man who’d harassed O’Shay in Charlotte, and Nathan had seen the dark-haired fellow flat on his back in a coliseum in Omaha. They were her brothers. He was sure of it.

  “I’m Fox,” Nathan said, sizing up the nearest brother. He was built like an overzealous wrestler, and looked fit enough to wrangle the bull that had just tromped Nathan. “What do you want?”

  “I want to know what kind of man hides behind a woman,” Shamus said.

  Nathan shrugged and tried a grin, but even that slight movement sent a spasm of pain through him. “I guess that’d be me.”

  Shamus snorted. “Guess so. Come on, Brenna. We’re going home.”

  “Brenna!” Nathan said, delighted to finally hear her name. “That’s even better than Bambi.”

  Brenna sent him an exasperated look before turning to her brothers. “Give it up, Shamus,” she said. “I’m not going home.”

  “The hell you’re not. Daddy told me before he died to take care of you and that’s what I’m going to do,” he said and moved closer.

  But Nathan stepped in between them, his hands raised in a symbol of peace. “She said she’s not going,” he said.

  “Get out of my way.”

  “You’re going to have to make me,” Nathan said, barely able to balance on his splint. “But I gotta tell you something first Your sister’s a damn good bodyguard. And if that’s what she wants to do that’s what she’s going to do.”

  “Get out of the way.”

  “Well, I would,” Nathan said. “But if I do she’s going to kick your sorry behind, and I don’t want to see you hurt…’cause I’m hoping to make you my brother-in-law.”

  “What?” Shamus snarled.

  “What?” Brenna gasped.

  Nathan turned toward her. “Marry me, O’Shay,” he said.

  “But what about…” She shook her head, looking shocked.

  “You want to guard bodies, go ahead,” Nathan said. “Mine or someone else’s. I understand dreams. I won’t stand in your way. Just…” For a moment, he forgot how to form words. “Will you…marry me?”

  “Yes!” she croaked and, stumbling over Sarge’s flaccid legs, swooned prettily in Nathan’s arms.

  “O’SHAY.”

  Brenna sat up with a start. “What—”

  “Shh,” Nathan whispered. The hospital room was dark again. A full day had passed since Sarge had been incarcerated and her brothers had left for Mississippi.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “Wanted to talk to you.”

  “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

  “’Bout time you asked,” he said, and half dragging his new cast across the floor, crawled in beside her.

  “You can’t—”

  “Shh,” he said. “I couldn’t sleep. Questions keep chasing each other through my head.”

  In the dim light, his expression looked vulnerable and wounded. She reached for him, drawing him close. “I wish I had the answers. Your oldest friend. How could he do it?” She touched Nathan’s face. It felt warm and sandpaper-rough beneath her fingertips.

  He exhaled softly. “Jealousy, I guess. We were a team a couple of lifetimes ago. Sarge and Shauna and me. I can’t believe…” He squeezed his eyes closed, but opened them in a moment. “Shauna confessed her part about the letters. Sent them just to spook me. Didn’t expect Sarge to leave them in my hotel. In my kitchen. Never meant any real harm. Didn’t know what Sarge was planning.”

  Silence filled the room.

  “Guess it’s the truth. ‘Cause it looks like he was trying to frame her. The police found a syringe in her glove compartment. It had a drop of the same stuff he tried to kill me with.” He cleared his throat. “It had her fingerprints all over it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Brenna whispered.

  “Yeah, well, at least he hates her just as much as he does me.”

  “How could he hate you? How could they—”

  “Shh.” Nathan gently touched a finger to her lips. “Maybe I’m a cold-hearted son of a bitch, ‘cause it wasn’t those questions that were hounding me. I was wondering…are you sure?”

  “Sure?”

  “That you want to marry me. I know it wasn’t fair to ask you when you were all doped up, half-naked in front of your brothers and God and everyone. But I didn’t think…”

  “I wasn’t half-naked.”

  “Well…” He smoothed his fingers down her throat to her collarbone. “Not your best half anyway. Still, it was pretty intriguing. I thought I was going to have to chase the male nurses away with my crutches.”

  She cleared her throat and tried to crush her embarrassment “Would you have?”

  Leaning forward ever so slightly, he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. Tingling feelings of utopia floated through her.

  “Would I have what?” he murmured, his lips only a breath away from her ear, his touch feather soft against her neck as he brushed her hair back.

  She closed her eyes at the glorious sensations. “Would you have chased them off for me?”

  “Well, I don’t know.” His hand traveled past her shoulder, found the bare strip of skin down the middle of her back and followed it leisurely. “My south side doesn’t look as good in a hospital gown as yours does.”

  He gently stroked the curve of her buttocks. Feelings distracted her, but uncertainty niggled at her mind, so she tried to keep focused.

  “Are you sure, Fox?” she asked breathlessly.

  He was silent for a moment. She could feel his gaze, warm as a spring breeze on her face, but she refused to open her eyes, lest she see uncertainty in his expression.

  “Am I sure I want to marry you?” he asked.

  She nodded, because her throat was suddenly and foolishly all clogged up, and she doubted her ability to spe
ak.

  “I’ve been sure for a long time, O’Shay.”

  Joy snapped through her, but she carefully contained it, wanting, needing to know the truth. She forced her eyes open, meeting his.

  “Really? Since when?”

  “Do you remember when you said—” he paused as if recalling the exact words “—my name is B. T. O’Shay?”

  She exhaled with a small huff, exasperated both by his poor attempt at her accent and his words. “That was the first time we met.”

  “Yeah,” he said and kissed her throat.

  “You’re kidding me,” she decided, but the words were only a murmur, lost in a rush of hot feelings that made her want to arch into him, to kiss him, to forget all about talking.

  But nevertheless, he spoke. “Yeah, I’m kidding,” he admitted. “I didn’t know for sure until a couple days later—when you jumped Ian in the hall.”

  “You knew you wanted to marry me when I made a fool of myself?”

  “Exactly.”

  She gave him a little punch to the ribs. He grunted, rubbed the spot, and grinned. “You should have seen yourself, O’Shay,” he said. “Beautiful and sassy and…” He paused, his expression going sober. “And worried about me. Really caring about me. In this business that’s not so easy to find.”

  She loved him. So much. “That’s when you knew? Really?”

  “Yeah,” he said and sighed. “I tried to be patient Tried to give you space. But I’m damned tired of being your buddy, O’Shay. I don’t know if I can go back to that. But if you need more time—”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Yes what?”

  “I’m sure I want to marry you. But only if you call me Brenna.”

  “Brenna,” he whispered and loosened the tie at the back of her neck. The gown slipped languidly sideways. His lips touched her bare shoulder, igniting a thousand wild feelings. “Are you ready to shock the hospital staff?”

  “More than ready,” she said and kissed him.

  eISBN: 978-14592-7469-3

  HIS BODYGUARD

  Copyright © 1999 by Lois Greiman

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part In any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.