by Lisa Childs
But she was the one out of her mind with pleasure. And still it wasn’t enough.
Maybe she had denied herself too long. It had been a while since she’d had any kind of relationship with anyone. She hadn’t trusted anyone enough to allow them this close, close enough to touch her.
She could trust Manny. His job was to protect her. He wouldn’t hurt her. Yet a pang of fear struck her heart. She had never felt more vulnerable than she did now. The passion pushed the fear aside, and she clutched at his shoulders, pulling him closer.
“Manny, please,” she implored him.
But he pulled back.
“Please!” she said as urgency gripped her. She needed him—needed to release the tension inside her.
She had been on edge for months, since that first letter had arrived. But this was different. This was unbearable.
“Shh...” he murmured as he kissed her lips.
Was he pulling away? How did he have so much control? Was it because she hadn’t touched him like he’d touched her? She reached for him now, but he stepped farther away. Then he leaned down and reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out a foil packet.
Her fingers trembling, Teddie reached for the packet. But he held tightly to it.
“If you roll this on me, it’ll be all over,” he warned her through gritted teeth.
And she realized he was fighting hard for that control she had thought so effortless. He rolled on the condom as far as it would go down his impressive length. Then he parted her legs and eased inside her.
He was so big.
But she was so ready for him. She arched and took him as deep as she could. And she had never felt as complete as she felt. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clutched his shoulders as they found a rhythm together. It was fast and frantic and furious.
She cried out as she came. But he kept moving.
And she came again.
Then finally his control slipped, and his body shuddered as he joined her in release. She melted into the mattress, boneless with pleasure.
He rose from the bed and slipped away, but only for minutes before he was back with her. His arms wound around her as he pulled her limp body against his.
She had never felt so safe, so protected, as she did in the arms of her bodyguard. She could only hope that her judgment had not been off this time, that she hadn’t once again trusted the wrong person.
* * *
Manny was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. He couldn’t have just made love to his fantasy woman. That was just a fantasy. That wasn’t reality.
Not his reality.
A Mannes didn’t have this kind of fortune. They only had misfortune. But she was lying in his arms, her body soft against his.
And warm.
And real.
He hadn’t taken Dane’s advice and fallen asleep and dreamed it all. It had actually happened.
And she’d wanted it. She had wanted him.
But why?
They had nothing in common. He was nothing like the rock stars and actors she’d been linked with in the tabloids. But then, she’d warned him not to believe everything he’d read about her.
He hadn’t read anything about her growing up poor—like he had. With a single mother, like he had.
Maybe they had more in common than he’d realized. But that wasn’t her life anymore.
She’d made another life for herself, one full of fame and fortune. He didn’t want either of those things. He only wanted to do his job.
And his job was to keep her safe, not seduce her. He’d failed her. And himself.
He’d never felt happier about any failure before. He’d never felt anything like he had with her.
No. He had to be dreaming.
He lowered his head to her hair and breathed deep. He expected the scent that had filled his nostrils all day, the scent that had been driving him out of his mind with desire for her.
He must have lost his mind to have carried her up to that loft and joined her on the bed. He was her bodyguard. Not her boyfriend.
For the moment, though, with her lying in his arms, he could pretend that he was more to her than just her protector. But when he breathed in, he didn’t smell her, that scent of flowers and sunshine.
Instead he coughed and sputtered as smoke filled his nose. It wafted up to the loft from below.
The damn cabin was on fire.
Manny knew that it was no accident. They had left no logs smoldering in the small woodstove. Nor had any candle been burning when he’d carried her up the stairs and gotten carried away himself. The only fire that had been burning then had been between the two of them.
So the cabin hadn’t started on fire accidentally. Someone had set it on fire. When Manny had lost his mind and made love to his client, he’d let down his guard. And he’d put her life and his own in danger.
Would he be able to get her out alive?
And even if he did, he had no doubt that the stalker was out there—waiting for them. So he could strike when they were most vulnerable. And with Teddie in his arms, Manny had never been more vulnerable.
Chapter 11
How the hell could she do this to him? First she’d tried to trick him—sending some other woman off dressed like her, wearing a wig. Had Teddie really thought he would fall for that cheap imitation of her?
Didn’t she realize how well he knew her?
Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he’d thought he had. Because she’d never dated the male models or actors or rock stars who had asked her out, he’d thought she wasn’t into superficial relationships. He’d assumed she was looking for something meaningful, with someone worthy of her. So how could she betray him with some muscle-bound thug like that bodyguard?
He’d heard her cry out. He knew what they had been doing inside the cabin. That was why he’d struck the match. He’d rather burn her down than lose her to someone else.
But he didn’t expect them just to perish quietly inside the cabin. That damn bodyguard would try to play the hero. He would be rushing out of the fire soon with her in his arms.
And he would be ready for him.
He lifted the weapon he’d taken from the other bodyguard, the one he’d left to die in the woods. The gun was heavy and unfamiliar in his hands. But he knew to slide off the safety before pulling the trigger.
And as soon as that bodyguard stepped out of the cabin, he would pull the trigger. He would shoot a bullet right into that pseudo hero’s pea-sized brain.
If Teddie was lucky, he might let her live for a while, at least long enough to make it up to him for betraying him like she had. But first the bodyguard had to die.
* * *
“Wake up,” a deep voice ordered. “You need to wake up.”
Teddie tried to open her eyes, but her lids were so heavy. Then her eyes began to burn and water like they had with the pepper spray. Her nose burned, too, but it was smoke filling her nostrils and her lungs. She coughed and sputtered.
But even as she realized there was smoke, she could summon no energy and none of the urgency she heard in Manny’s voice. She was too satiated. Too limp.
After making love with him, she’d slipped into a sleep so deep that she couldn’t shake it off. Or maybe it was smoke that was making her listless.
Manny moved her, lifting her arms, sliding them into sleeves as he pulled a sweatshirt over her head. Then he dragged pants up her thighs. He dressed her even faster than he’d undressed her earlier.
“Teddie, we need to get out of here,” he told her. “The cabin’s on fire.”
Finally his words penetrated the fog in her brain. She wasn’t certain if the smoke had caused it or the incredible sex. But she shook it off now.
“What!” She jumped up but the smoke was thick in the loft, blinding and overwhelming her. She cou
ghed and sputtered again. “Fire...”
Not the cabin. Not her little sanctuary.
But it hadn’t felt like a sanctuary since the stalker had chased her from the woods. He had destroyed it even before he’d set it on fire. It must have been him.
He hadn’t left like they’d hoped he would. He hadn’t been fooled. In fact, he was probably angry that they had tried to fool him.
Strong arms lifted her, and as easily as he’d carried her up the steps earlier, Manny carried her down. The smoke was thinner downstairs. So she could see the glow of flames behind the blinds, licking up the outside of the structure.
Then glass cracked and shattered and the flames forced their way inside, melting the blinds. Thick, black smoke billowed from them.
And now she was all urgency as fear overwhelmed her. “We need to get out of here!”
She was surprised she had to say it, surprised that Manny hesitated with her in his arms. They couldn’t stay inside the cabin, not with the fire.
“He’s out there,” he said.
“Dane?”
He cursed. But he wasn’t just angry. He sounded scared, too.
“I don’t know where Dane is...” His fear was for his friend. “But your stalker is out there. He set this fire to get us out there—with him.”
His fear was for her, too.
“What...?” She coughed. “What are we going to do?” They couldn’t stay inside much longer. If the smoke didn’t kill them first, the flames definitely would.
Moments before, she’d felt so safe, asleep in his arms. Now she was terrified that they were both about to die. She had trusted Manny to protect her. Now she was afraid that she had made a horrible mistake.
* * *
Manny knew he was asking too much of her. He was asking her to trust him.
She stared up at him through eyes streaming from smoke. Blinking furiously, she asked, “You want me to stay inside—with the fire?”
She sounded shocked and horrified.
He felt the same way.
He could not believe he had let down his guard. He’d kept checking with Dane because he’d known—he’d just known—that the stalker hadn’t been fooled. There was no mistaking Nikki for Teddie Plummer no matter how good the female bodyguard’s disguise had been.
So what the hell had he been thinking to make love to the client? No matter how much Dane had assured him that he’d seen nothing amiss in the woods, Manny should have kept his own watch, as well. He shouldn’t have let himself get distracted from his assignment.
“You just need to stay inside until I draw his fire,” he explained.
“What?” She choked on the question, her lungs no doubt filling with smoke.
Manny carried her to the bathroom near the back door of the cabin. It wasn’t on fire. Yet. But the smoke was thick here, too. He soaked towels with which they covered their mouths, but it wasn’t enough to filter out all the smoke.
He coughed, too.
He didn’t have time to explain his plan again, not if they were going to survive. “Wait here, just until you hear fifteen shots.”
She gasped. “Fifteen?”
That would empty the chamber of the Glock 19 that Dane carried. Because if the stalker was out there, he had gotten past Dane. And the only way he could have done that was if he’d killed him. Pain clasped Manny’s heart in a viselike grip.
He’d been there when Dane had chosen the ring for Emilia, the ring his friend hadn’t given her yet. Now he would never get the chance. And if Dane was dead, Manny had to assume the stalker had his gun.
He could not afford to be surprised again. It could cost them both their lives as it had probably cost Dane his.
“Stay here,” he told her, opening the bathroom door. The fire had started on the deck. There was no going out the patio doors. “Fifteen shots.”
The stalker wouldn’t buy Manny going outside alone, so he carried a cushion from the couch wrapped in one of the blankets. Another blanket—soaked with water—was wrapped around Teddie. He kissed her, then pulled it over her face before he left her, closing the bathroom door on her. Hopefully she would remember his direction to roll the other wet towel he’d left in there against the bottom of the door to keep out more smoke.
Slinging the big pillow over his shoulder, he drew in a deep breath then opened the back door. The minute he stepped out onto the small porch, shots rang out. Thankfully they were fired in quick succession and not very accurately. He didn’t know if the stalker was a good shot or a bad one, though. He probably didn’t want to hit Teddie. And with the blanket wrapped around the cushion, he might believe that Manny carried her.
He continued to fire, though. The bullets struck the gravel around the porch and then the cabin wall. Manny ran from the house, wanting to draw the gunfire away from it so Teddie wasn’t accidentally struck. And so he wouldn’t be hit, either. Ducking low, he headed away from the bathroom wall, toward the storage barn where Teddie had parked her Jeep and he had stowed the motorcycle.
Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the flash in the darkness and knew from where the shots were being fired. The shooter stood in the area where Manny had found Teddie that first night, where he had attacked Teddie that first night, somewhere between the house and the thicker woods.
Manny waited until he heard the fifteenth shot ring out and then the telltale click of an empty cartridge before he dropped the cushion onto the ground and drew his own weapon. He fired toward the trees as he started toward them.
Before going too far, he glanced back to make certain Teddie had followed his directions. The back door stood ajar as he’d left it, but she didn’t come out. Maybe opening the door had fueled the fire with more oxygen.
She could have been overcome with the smoke or with the flames themselves. His heart pounded furiously with fear and dread. In trying to save her, had he been the one to kill her?
He headed back toward the cabin, hoping he hadn’t left Teddie to burn alive inside it. But he found her exactly where he’d left her, just inside the bathroom door.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Why didn’t you come outside?” But he had to shout for his voice to be heard. The flames had risen in the rest of the house, roaring as they consumed the old wood.
“I didn’t hear the shots,” she said from where she crouched on the shower floor, still covered with that wet blanket.
He lifted and carried her out of the bathroom and out the back door. But as he stepped through it, something hard struck him. The heavy metal object missed his head and just glanced off his shoulder.
The son of a bitch had returned.
Manny jumped off the little porch and onto the gravel walk. Setting Teddie on her feet, he whirled toward the stalker. Even with the light from the fire dissipating the darkness, the man was only a shadow. A shadow with a gun. He must have grabbed only that, though, and not Dane’s extra rounds of ammo. Because he swung the gun, handle out toward Manny, instead of pulling the trigger.
Manny dodged the blow. Then he drew his own weapon. The man turned and ran toward the trees. Manny had the shot. He could fire, yet he hesitated. It was hard for him to shoot a man in the back. So he aimed for a leg instead.
As he squeezed the trigger, a whimper distracted him. He didn’t look to see if he’d hit his target before he turned back to Teddie.
She had collapsed on the gravel, the light from the flames illuminating her pale face. Her eyes were closed as if she’d slipped into unconsciousness. Or had staying inside the cabin, with all that smoke, damaged her lungs?
“Teddie!” He dropped to the ground beside her. His fingers shaking, he reached out for her throat, checking for a pulse. He found one, but compared to how it had raced earlier, it felt weak.
He lowered his head to her mouth but felt just a brush of her breath against his skin. She was breathing,
but not that strongly, not that steadily.
He needed to get her to a hospital. But he had only the motorcycle to ride. She had her Jeep, though—safe with the motorcycle in the storage shed. The keys for it were inside the house.
He peered around, checking to see if the stalker lurked, waiting for another chance to strike like a hyena going for the weakest victim.
Dane wasn’t the weakest, though. Dane was the toughest man Manny had ever met, tougher even than him. How the hell had the stalker overpowered the ex-Marine?
And where the hell was Dane?
The stalker was gone. If Manny had struck him, it hadn’t been a painful enough wound to stop him from running. Hopefully it would stop him from coming back—at least until Manny was able to get the keys from inside the cabin.
Just as he headed toward it, the structure gave an ominous groan as if it were human. Flames broke through the roof, which then collapsed in on itself.
Her little cabin, and everything inside it, was gone. Manny reached for his pocket, patting it. He had the keys to the motorcycle. But how could she hold on to him when she could barely keep her eyes open?
He pulled out his cell phone. He had no new messages from Dane, just the last one in which he had assured Manny that everything was all right. But had Dane typed that or had the stalker?
In addition to Dane’s gun, the stalker probably had his phone. So Manny wouldn’t send a text. He wouldn’t even try to call him. Instead he punched in 911, and he hoped the signal was strong enough to get the call through. He had no idea if there was a fire or police department anywhere in the area. Would help arrive in time?
She needed oxygen, at least. Or maybe even more medical treatment. And he had no idea about Dane. Was it already too late to help him?
Chapter 12
Lungs burning, Teddie coughed and sputtered for air. Finally she was able to suck in a deep breath of it, which made her cough and sputter some more as she regained consciousness. Her eyes burned, too, and watered; she blinked and tried to clear her vision.
She was moving. But her feet weren’t touching the ground. Someone was carrying her. For a moment she tensed with fear. Had the stalker gotten her?