The Bride's Bodyguard

by Beth Cornelison

  She glanced up at Jake, who frowned, rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight. He’d been undaunted when they’d been under fire, running for their lives. So why did her simple question make him uncomfortable?

  Then another, more ominous thought occurred to her. “I don’t even know if Brent survived the attack. How do I know I’m not a widow?”

  Jake jutted out his chin. “Don’t borrow trouble or get hung up on worst-case scenarios. Until we know otherwise we’re going to assume Brent is alive and will be fine. Got it?”

  He jammed his restless hands in his pockets and narrowed his eyes. “Did you sign the marriage license?”

  Her pulse tripped. A weight seemed to lift from her chest, and the tension screwing her muscles in knots loosened. “No. We were supposed to do that after the ceremony, before the reception.”

  “Then I’d say, in the eyes of the law, you’re not married.”

  He had a point. She nodded her agreement and exhaled silently, determined not to show him her relief.

  “Why?”

  She jerked her head up to meet his querying gaze. “What do you mean, why? Wouldn’t you want to know if you were married or not?”

  He shrugged. “Depends on if I really wanted to be married in the first place. Otherwise, the technical question of whether I’m married or not is moot.” His incisive dark eyes scrutinized her. “Even without the legalities in place, your intentions to wed are still valid, your love for your fiancé is unchanged, the commitment you’ve made to each other is unbroken. Signing the license is a mere formality, in my view.” He lifted an eyebrow and angled his head. “Right?”

  Paige grabbed the edge of the counter behind her as her knees wobbled. “O-of course.”

  “But…” Jake stepped toward her as his knowing gaze homed in on her. “If, by some chance, you were having second thoughts about getting married, if you weren’t as committed to your intended as you let everyone believe…”

  Paige squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “Just what are you implying?”

  He lifted a dismissive hand. “I’m not implying anything. I’m saying I saw your expression before Trench Coat busted in. I saw the doubt in your face. I saw your reluctance.”

  Nervous energy shot through Paige, and she suppressed a tremble. “Don’t be ridiculous.” When she heard the lack of conviction in her tone, she cleared her throat and added, “You saw nothing more than typical jitters over being in front of a crowd. Or a…a moment of…reflection as I considered the…importance of the day and—”

  “Bull.”

  She gasped and shot him an affronted look.

  “You can tell yourself that if you want, but I know what I saw.” His steady, keen gaze rattled her. “The SEALs trained me to read people, read body language, read subtle clues in facial expressions.”

  Paige swallowed hard and pressed a hand over the riot of acid in her gut. “You’re wrong. I had every intention of marrying Brent before…” She flicked her hand, knowing he could fill in the blank.

  He held her gaze for several unnerving seconds. The heat in his mahogany eyes turned her bones to dust and stirred a flutter in her belly. Just his proximity had her acutely aware of his height, his unflinching power and his ex-navy SEAL brawn. When they’d fled the church, he’d carried her to safety and still had the strength to run for the waiting limo. Even now, without him touching her, her skin flashed hot and tingled when she thought of his large hands in intimate places as he lifted her, shielded her, saved her life.

  “I…I don’t think I’ve thanked you yet…for what you did. Without you, I don’t know if I’d have gotten out of the church alive.”

  The muscles in his square jaw twitched. “I did what I was trained to do. What I was hired to do. Besides…your fiancé is the one who knocked you out of the way when Trench Coat would have shot you. The one who took a bullet for you.”

  Paige’s breath snagged in her lungs. She blinked back the sting of tears and choked down the bile that his reminder of Brent’s sacrifice brought to her throat. Brent was dying, might even be dead, because he’d saved her from an assassin’s gun.

  “On the other hand,” Jake continued, “your life would have never been at risk if not for the infamous bead Scofield had that Trench Coat wanted. We wouldn’t be in danger now if not for him giving you the bead to protect. If he knew something about a threat to national security, how could he knowingly draw the woman he claims to love into the crosshairs of such dangerous men?”

  Paige’s leg wobbled, and she sank to the floor. The truth behind Jake’s assessment crushed her with a suffocating weight. “M-maybe Brent didn’t realize the danger—”

  “He knew. That’s why he hired me to be his bodyguard.”

  She raised her bleary gaze to Jake. “Why didn’t he want me to know? If he was in danger…”

  How could Brent have hidden something so vital from her? She shook her head, unable to make sense of the bizarre twists the day had taken.

  Jake squatted beside her and brushed her hair back from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell you what was going on. I know for damn sure, though, if I were in love with a woman like you, I’d move heaven and earth to keep her safe. I’d never put her life in jeopardy the way Scofield did yours. It’s not right.”

  A jab of loyalty to Brent compelled her to defend him, despite her misgivings about the strange situation. “I’m sure he had a good reason why—”

  “No! There’s never a good reason to put someone you love at risk.” Jake’s fingers curled into fists, and he clenched his jaw. Shoving to his feet, he stalked back to the door. “I have to go now. Keep this door locked and the gun within reach. I’ll be back before dark.”

  “But what am I—?”

  Before she could finish her question, Jake was gone. The silence in the vacant house was deafening. The stillness filled her with a terrifying sense of isolation.

  Alone with her thoughts, Paige replayed the horrifying events of the afternoon, searching for some explanation for her frightening and senseless circumstances.

  Her fiancé valued a bead over her life.

  Brent was involved in something with national security repercussions.

  She’d never signed the marriage license.

  Paige bent her legs and, propping her arms on her knees, buried her face in her folded arms. Not knowing if Brent survived the attack or if her family was safe was maddening, terrifying. Fatigue, fear and confusion pounded inside her skull, but she refused to give in to the tears that threatened. She’d cried enough today.

  We’re going to assume Brent is alive.

  The time had come to take back the control she’d lost over her life that afternoon. While Jake was gone, she had to figure out what Brent had given her that the terrorists wanted. She had to make a plan of action for getting out of this predicament, and she had to start rebuilding her shattered life—a life without Brent Scofield.

  A mix of trepidation, guilt and relief for her decision spiraled through her, tangling around her heart. She didn’t love Brent. Never really had. And today proved she didn’t know him as well as she thought she had. Reason enough to reconsider her engagement. But as Jake pointed out, Brent had willingly put her in danger, set her up to be the target of terrorists. Terrorists, for crying out loud! Bitter anger blasted through her.

  Until she thought of the way Brent had leaped in front of a bullet for her.

  A leaden grief weighted her heart, made it hard to breathe. How could she ever sort this mess out?

  An image of Jake wavered behind her closed eyes, and an odd reassurance settled over her like a warm blanket. When all hell had broken loose at the church, he’d saved her. When she’d been paralyzed by fear, he’d taken action. When she’d had her emotional meltdown in the limo, he’d been there with a warm embrace—and spared her empty platitudes.

  Jake didn’t waste time indulging her wishful thinking or misleading her with what she wanted to hea
r. He respected her enough to give her the hard-boiled truth. He gave orders and expected results. And he’d proven himself more than capable of protecting her from the threat Trench Coat—as Jake had called the lead terrorist—posed her.

  Lifting her head to look around the empty house, Paige took a deep, centering breath. She owed Jake so much already. The least she could do before he returned was come up with something concrete they could work from. Organizing, analyzing and reasoning were what she did best. She’d been useless to Jake earlier because the unexpected, unexplainable chaos of this afternoon had left her completely out of her element.

  Now, with a determination to put some order back in her life, Paige began dissecting the events of the past several days, searching for some clue to what the bead could be. As she fell into her familiar patterns of problem solving and rational thinking, a soothing balm flowed through her. She’d be fine—as soon as she solved the riddles she’d been presented by this afternoon’s events.

  After two hours alone, frantically searching her memories for answers, Paige was no closer to a solution when Jake returned with a few supplies and a rental car.

  He set the new cell phones, a bag of fast food and other miscellany on the floor beside her and returned his gun to the waist of the new jeans he wore. His tux was nowhere in sight. “Any trouble while I was gone?”

  “No. Nothing.” Eager to hear from her family, Paige snatched up one of the phones. “Are these working? Have they been activated?”

  “Yeah. But keep your call brief.” He drilled her with a hard look that echoed the gravity in his tone. “And don’t tell anyone anything about where we are. Someone could be listening on the other end.”

  Paige shivered, despite the stuffy house, and dialed her father’s phone. After several rings, the call went to voice mail, and her stomach sank with disappointment and concern. What if her father had been hurt?

  “Hi, Dad. It’s Paige,” she told his voice mail. “I’m safe. Shaken by what happened today but unhurt. I love you, and—” her voice cracked, and she paused to clear the emotion from her throat “—I’ll call again when I can. Bye.” She disconnected and immediately dialed her sister Holly’s cell phone.

  Holly answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

  The stress and worry in her sister’s voice sent fresh waves of panic and anxiety rippling through Paige. “It’s me, Hol.”

  “Paige! Are you okay? Where are you? Oh, God, we’ve been so worried about you!”

  “I’m fine. I’m with Jake McCall. How…how is Brent? Is he—?”

  “He’s alive, but he’s critical.”

  Paige received the news with mixed feelings. Relief that he was alive, and grief for the severity of his condition. She clutched the phone like a lifeline to her family, and tears blossomed in her eyes.

  “He lost a lot of blood, Paige. He’s unresponsive, and I’m afraid it’s still touch and go whether he’ll make it through the night. We’re at St. Mary’s with him. How soon can you get here?”

  “I—I don’t think I can come.” She glanced up at Jake for confirmation.

  He shook his head. “Too dangerous.”

  She pulled the phone away from her mouth. “He’s dying. I need to be there!”

  “So you can die, too? Those men were willing to kill to get the bead. They saw me hustle you out of there, so I guarantee they know you have whatever it is they’re looking for. You’re their new target.”

  “Paige? Paige, are you sure you’re all right? What do you mean you’re not coming? Brent is your husband. He may not make it through the night.”

  “Technically, I don’t think he is my husband. We never signed the marriage license.” Paige frowned, hearing herself. Brent was dying, and she was arguing with Holly about the legality of her marriage? What was wrong with her?

  Holly was conspicuously quiet, and guilt rolled through Paige. But Holly had a storybook marriage with her husband, Matt, and her stepchildren. How could she understand Paige’s complicated feelings toward Brent? She didn’t even understand her mixed emotions.

  Paige raked the hair back from her face with her fingers and sighed. “What about everybody else? Are Mom and Dad all right? Matt and the kids?”

  “We’re all shaken but not physically hurt. I think Mr. Garcia was shot in the leg, and I heard something about Fran Coulter being taken to the hospital. Lots of folks were treated at the scene for minor injuries and shock.” Holly paused. “Mr. Diggle is dead, though.”

  “I know. I—”

  Jake circled his finger in the air, signaling her to wrap up her call.

  “Holly, I have to go. Tell everyone I love them. I’ll try to call again when I can.”

  “Wait! Where are you? When are you coming home?”

  “I don’t know when I’ll be home. Soon, I hope.” She rubbed her eyes when moisture blurred her vision. “Jake thinks I’m still in danger. He thinks those men are still after me. Brent said I have something they want. He told Jake to hide me, protect me until—”

  Jake yanked the phone from her. “She’ll call later. Don’t try to find us. Don’t call the police. I’ll keep her safe, but it’s important that we lay low for a while. Goodbye.”

  With that, he snapped the phone closed and handed it back to her.

  Paige glared at him. “What are you d—?”

  “I said keep it short, and don’t tell them too much. Her phone was probably bugged.”

  A tremor crawled up Paige’s spine. “Bugged? I—” A new possibility occurred to her, and her breath snagged. “Do you think they’d go after my family to get to me? That they’d hurt them to bring me out of hiding?”

  Jake gave her a blank, unreadable look. “It’s possible. You should keep your contact with them to a minimum. Just in case.”

  Paige hugged herself, bending at the waist as fear for her family’s safety knotted in her chest.

  Jake placed a warm hand at the nape of her neck and gently rubbed her tense muscles. “The sooner we figure out what those men want and what we’re supposed to do with it, the better—for everyone.” He nudged the greasy sack of fast food toward her. “Eat something.”

  He toed off the tennis shoes that had replaced his wing tips since his trip out, and he settled beside her with his long legs stretched in front of him. “Did you make a list of the things that Brent has given you in the last several weeks?”

  “Yes. But I’m no closer to figuring out what those men wanted.” Twisting her mouth in frustration, she peered into the sack of burgers and fries he’d brought back with him, and her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten all day, having been too nervous for breakfast or lunch and worried about getting her dress to zip. But with the interrupted wedding behind her, what did it matter if she ate fried potatoes and red meat? Tonight she wanted comfort food.

  “You can’t think of anything he’s given you, anything you packed for the honeymoon that might not be what it seemed?”

  She pulled out a burger and handed it to him, then plucked a French fry from the sack and munched as she shook her head. “Nothing. At Christmas, he gave me tickets to the ballet in Chicago, and we flew up there for a weekend. The trip and a set of Waterford red-wine goblets were my Christmas presents.” She ate another fry, then unwrapped a burger. “For Valentine’s, he sent me two dozen roses—now dead and tossed out.” She accounted for the items with her fingers as she listed them for Jake. “We bought an antique desk together that is at a dealer’s being refurbished. He gave me a folder with life, car and home owner’s insurance information to file a couple of weeks ago.”

  Jake’s head came up. “Did you read the file? Are you sure that’s what was in it?”

  She nodded. “Read it and added the information to the spreadsheet I’d started for our finances. There was nothing unusual there.”

  Jake grunted, then, waving the hand with his burger, motioned for her to continue. “What else did he give you?”

  She held up her hand, fingering the elaborate weddi
ng band. “Well, my ring, obviously.”

  He arched an eyebrow as he glanced at the ring, then held out his hand. “Can I have a closer look?”

  She slid the ring off and passed it to him.

  He narrowed his gaze on the setting and whistled. “Wow. This is…” His expression said he was searching for a tactful term.

  Paige sighed. “Gaudy? I know. I tried to tell him it was over-the-top, that all I wanted was a simple band to match my engagement ring, but he wouldn’t hear of getting me something as mundane as a plain gold band.” She felt a twinge of disloyalty for her complaint, but something compelled her to rationalize the showy ring to Jake. “I think he felt he needed to give me an expensive ring to prove he was worthy of me.”

  Jake raised an eyebrow as he tossed an amused side glance at her. “Think pretty highly of yourself, do you?”

  She scowled and grunted. “That’s not what I mean. Brent’s the one who was intimidated by our family’s money. He came from a family that had nothing. Through a lot of sacrifice and ambition, he worked his way up the ladder in Bancroft Industries in record time and was making good money. But I think he always felt like, with me, he was marrying up and had to prove to someone that he could compete with my family’s wealth. He didn’t need to, of course. But buying me an expensive wedding ring seemed so important to him, I didn’t argue.”

  Jake turned the domed and jewel-encrusted band over, examining it from every angle. “Your wedding ring is a rather personal and significant item to compromise on. Do you make a habit of letting Brent bully you to get his way?”

  Paige hiked her chin up and squared her shoulders defiantly. But her gut swirled, and her heart tapped an anxious rhythm. She refused to let Jake, a man who’d likely never compromised his wishes in his life, see how close to the truth he was. “My ring is just a thing. When you grow up surrounded by things, you learn how little real value and significance they have. Preserving Brent’s pride was more important to me than what kind of ring I had.” She snatched the ring back and jammed it on her finger. “If I can make someone happy by compromising on something trivial like a ring, then…so be it!”