The Bodyguard's Assignment

by Amanda Stevens

  Grace stopped for a moment, glancing at Brady. She didn’t want him to think she was making an excuse for what she’d done in the past. It wasn’t that. She wanted him to know that she had some understanding of how his father’s death had affected him, changed him.

  “When I was a teenager, I started wondering why he never called or wrote, why he never came to see me. It became almost an obsession with me. So one night, I took the subway uptown, found his apartment, and somehow got the courage to knock on his door.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Brady said, his dark eyes shadowed by the flickering firelight. “He wasn’t home.”

  “Oh, he was home all right. He had company, a new girlfriend, I guess. A model. He didn’t even recognize me when he opened the door. He thought I was just some delivery girl or something, and he tried to shoo me away.”

  “I’m Grace,” she told him. “Your daughter?”

  The man in the doorway stared at her for a moment, his brows drawing together as if he’d been confronted with a pesky problem he had little patience for. He was a handsome man, but Grace had known that. What she hadn’t known about—what the camera expertly disguised—was the coldness in his eyes, the almost cruel set of his mouth. “What do you want?” he asked her brusquely. “Money? I don’t have much cash on me.” He turned from the door as if to get his wallet, but Grace caught his arm.

  “I don’t want money. Did you hear what I said? I’m your daughter.”

  “And you expect me to do what? Celebrate?” He folded his arms over his bathrobe, sighing heavily. “Look, I don’t know what Angeline has told you about me, but the two of us struck a bargain a long time ago. I agreed to support you financially until you’re twenty-one, but that’s all. I don’t want to hear about your problems. I don’t want to know about your life. I’m not the fatherly type. You shouldn’t have come here.”

  Grace swallowed back painful tears as she glared at him, unable to comprehend that someone could be so cruel. “But you are a father. My father.”

  “I never wanted to be. I never asked to be.” He must have realized then how he sounded, and some remnant of decency made him add, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? That’s just the way it is. I never wanted the responsibility of kids. Angeline knew that.”

  “You left her because of me?” Grace whispered, the shock of his words vibrating to her very soul.

  “Go back home,” he said almost angrily. “Go back to your mother. God knows she was willing to give up everything for you.”

  He’d gone back inside and closed the door in her face, and Grace had only seen him in person one time since then. She’d attended the Press Club dinner in Washington several years ago with a prominent New York Times reporter. She’d literally bumped into her father, and he’d smiled at her pleasantly enough as he steadied her, but he hadn’t recognized her. There hadn’t been so much as a glimmer of familiarity in his eyes, and that had hurt Grace even more than the confrontation outside his apartment. She had vowed then that she would make something of her life. She would become a reporter every bit Harry Drummond’s equal. She would make him recognize her, make him acknowledge her, and then she would make him sorry for not wanting her.

  She shuddered, remembering what she’d been willing to do, who she’d been willing to hurt to accomplish that goal.

  “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I understand how deeply we can be hurt by our parents. How their actions can affect us even after we’re adults and should know better.”

  Brady gazed at her warily. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  She gave a brief shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe because you opened up to me yesterday morning. You told me something about yourself I never knew before. I wish we’d talked like this five years ago. Maybe it would have changed things for us.”

  “As I recall, we didn’t do much talking, period.”

  Excitement fluttered in her stomach as their gazes met. Grace knew what he meant. Back then, their passion had done the talking for them. Conversation had taken a back seat to more primal needs, but she realized now what a mistake that had been. Brady was a man worth getting to know in every way.

  The passion was still there. The need was still as strong as ever, but it was tempered now with reason. Responsibility. Reality.

  “I’ve done a lot of thinking since you left.” Grace lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not trying to make excuses for what I did, but I understand now why I did it. What drove me to it. I wanted my father’s attention. His respect. I was willing to do whatever it took to get it. Even betray the only man I ever really cared about.”

  “Grace—”

  “I know.” She smiled at him in the firelight. “It’s over. You’re not going to start up with me again, and I don’t blame you. This isn’t an ideal time for me, either,” she said ironically. “But who knows what tomorrow holds? I’d like you to know—I’d like for you to believe—that I’ve grown up. I have my priorities straight. I hope someday you can forgive me for what I did to you.”

  He glanced away from her then, staring deep into the fire. But Grace couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. He was so ruggedly handsome, probably the best-looking man she’d ever known, but it wasn’t just his appearance that held her awestruck. It was the man inside. Dependable and steady, and yet mysterious. A man of passion. A man not without his own demons.

  “I haven’t been completely honest with you,” he said finally. “I told you I left the force because I was facing a suspension. That was true. I took the easy way out, just like my old man did. But it wasn’t 161

  just the prospect of losing my career that made me run. I didn’t want to face you.”

  Grace’s heart started to thud. “You didn’t want to face me? Why? You hadn’t done anything wrong.”

  He shrugged. “I was afraid that after everything that had happened, after everything I’d lost, if I saw you again, if I touched you…” He trailed off as his gaze lifted to meet hers. “I’d still want you.”

  Grace was having a hard time breathing now. She could only stare back at him. “But…why?”

  “Because you hurt me. More than I ever thought possible. I didn’t want to take that kind of risk again. So I did what my old man did. I checked out.”

  “If only I’d known you felt that way.”

  “What would you have done?” His dark gaze challenged her. “Used all your investigative know-how to find me? I didn’t want to be found.”

  Grace had a hard time fighting back tears. So many years wasted, and now it was too late. Because of what she’d seen in that warehouse, there would be no future for her and Brady. No second chances. Nothing but a lifetime of regrets.

  He seemed to realize that, too. He said wearily, “Go to bed, Grace. There’s no point in looking back. What’s done is done.”

  She swallowed painfully. “I know that. But it breaks my heart to think how you must have hated me all these years.”

  “I never hated you.” He closed his eyes for a moment, as if fighting his own emotions. “But God knows I tried.”

  Chapter Ten

  It was time for the sun to come up, but a gray haze covered the horizon. Brady had been chopping wood for several minutes, but he paused now to catch his breath as his gaze scoured the mountain. The temperature had dropped sometime before dawn, and a fine mist fell like an icy curtain over the dreary landscape.

  He was in a foul mood this morning, but he wasn’t sure if his temperament was affected by the weather or by the conversation he’d had with Grace. By the revelations they’d made to one another.

  He didn’t know why he’d let her draw him into a conversation like that. He didn’t like talking about himself or his feelings. He wasn’t sure why he’d opened up to Grace the way he had, but one thing he did know. No good could come of it. They were stuck together in this cabin by necessity, but that didn’t mean they had to get all chummy and cozy. Emotional distance was imperative in his line of work, and with Grac
e, that distance was even more crucial. She’d made him lose his head once, and he’d lost his self-respect in the process. Brady wouldn’t let that happen again.

  He wouldn’t let history repeat itself, in more ways than one. He had a job to do here, and he couldn’t afford to let emotions, hormones, or anything else get in his way. He’d lost one witness. He would not lose another.

  At the thought of Rachel, a coldness seeped through him. If he’d protected her as he should have, if he’d kept her alive as he’d promised her, she would have testified against Stephen Rialto. She would have put him away for good, and there would have been no alliance with Lester Kane. Grace might not be in the danger she was in today if Brady had done his job.

  He didn’t believe in making the same mistakes twice.

  He wouldn’t.

  He picked up the ax, and with renewed vigor, swung it toward the chunk of wood. The blade sank deep, and the wood split cleanly in two. Brady tossed both pieces toward the pile he’d started at the back of the cabin, then picked up another. The physical activity felt good after the hours he’d spent on the road and in the cabin.

  After a while, his muscles twitched from the strain. He knew he would pay for the exertion later, but so much the better. Maybe the discomfort would keep him from thinking about Grace.

  But as he caught a glimpse of her in the cabin window, staring out at him, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Chopping wood for a solid week wouldn’t get her out of his system. Out of his head.

  There was only one way to do that.

  HE’D TAKEN OFF his coat, and beneath the cotton shirt he wore, Grace could see the strain of his muscles as he drew back the ax, then swung it downward. She’d been watching him for several minutes, but every time the blade connected with the wood, she still jumped. The power in his arms and back was a sight to behold. She felt exhilarated and excited thinking of all that strength and remembering the tenderness. The way he had held her at times as if she were made of porcelain.

  She still remembered the way he’d whispered her name, his voice husky and deep with emotion, his breath warm against her ear, his hands stroking her until her skin flamed wherever he touched.

  He was right. They hadn’t done much talking back then. But they had communicated. They’d known instinctively what the other needed. When to be passionate and when to be gentle. When to hold and when to let go. They’d both been fiercely independent, and yet after Brady had left, Grace had come to hate being alone. She’d turned to her mother, and that had been a blessing. She and Angeline had grown closer than they ever had been before, and Grace wondered now if that would have happened whether or not she and Brady had been apart. She hadn’t been mature enough to nurture both relationships, and so maybe it was best things had turned out they way they had. Maybe things did happen for a reason. Her mother had needed her, still needed her, more so now than ever, and Grace couldn’t let anything—even her feelings for Brady—jeopardize her mother’s life.

  Tearing her gaze away from Brady, she scanned the mountainside. They were a long way from civilization. She couldn’t walk out of here in this weather, over this terrain, but Brady kept the truck key with him. He’d even taken her cell phone. Grace could see no recourse but to tell him the truth. Beg him to keep silent until she could make the exchange with Kane.

  She trusted Brady, but if he contacted his superiors, would they make Angeline a priority, or would she become an indispensable pawn in their quest to get Kane?

  A flash of light up on the mountain caught Grace’s attention, and she stared at the spot for a moment, wondering what it was. Reflected sunlight was her first thought, but the sun wasn’t shining. The day was damp and cold, and she shivered, even though the cabin was warm inside.

  She saw the flash again, and in the instant she realized what it was, the report of a rifle echoed down the mountain. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brady drop to the ground, but it was only a glimpse because she’d already turned toward the door, screaming his name.

  The wind seemed to rip the knob right out of her hand as she jerked open the door. There was only a front entrance to the cabin. Brady was around back. Grace plunged through the icy mist toward him, coming to her senses at the last minute. At the corner of the house, she knelt, peering around it.

  Another shot rang out, and a chunk of the cabin splintered, piercing Grace’s skin with tiny, wooden missiles. The pain barely registered. She’d caught a glimpse of Brady, and he was still on the ground. Not moving.

  “He’s okay,” she whispered. He had to be. She reminded herself of the way he’d lain so still and silent in the field by the highway. He was simply making sure the shooter didn’t have an easy target. Grace knew she had to do the same.

  She knelt at the corner of the house, out of sight, as her heart pounded inside her. “Brady?”

  “Get back inside, Grace.”

  Thank God, he was alive. Grace rested her head against the cabin for a moment, weak with relief. “Are you okay?”

  A slight hesitation, then he said harshly, “Get back inside. Now!”

  His voice sounded strained, ragged. As if he were in pain.

  Grace’s pulse hammered in her throat. He’d been hit. She was certain of it. But how badly, she had no way of knowing.

  She glanced around the corner of the cabin again. She saw him lying behind the woodpile. He’d pulled himself up to lean against the wood as he peered up the mountain. His weapon was drawn, but what sent shock waves vibrating through Grace was the blood on his shirt. It was all over him, and she felt her stomach tremble in fear.

  She started toward him, keeping low. Another shot rang out, the bullet whizzing over her head to become lost somewhere over the canyon. But instead of retreating back to the cabin, Grace dove toward the woodpile.

  “I thought I told you—” Brady’s slurred words broke off as his head lolled back against the wood. He was about to pass out, and Grace knew that if he lost consciousness, she would never be able to get him inside.

  She pulled him toward her, cradling his head in her arms. “Brady! Come on! Stay with me. We have to get inside.”

  “Get to safety.…”

  “We’ll both get to safety. Come on. I’ll help you. Just don’t die on me, okay? Don’t you dare die on me!”

  Grace knew she was babbling, but the sound of her voice kept her steady. She put her hands under Brady’s arms and tried to lift him, but his weight was too much for her. “Come on, help me!” she cried.

  He tried to shove her away. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out the truck key and placed it in her hand, closing his fingers over hers. “Take the truck. Don’t look back.”

  Grace opened her hand and stared at the key. A wave of dizziness came over her. This was what she’d been waiting for. A chance to escape. A way back to Dallas. Brady was giving it to her. Risking his life to save hers.

  Her mother needed her. Kane would kill her if Grace didn’t get back in time.

  But Brady might die if she left him here.

  She stuffed the key in her jeans pocket and grabbed him again. “We’re both getting out of here. Come on, Brady. Don’t bail on me here. We’ve come too far.”

  “…always were stubborn as hell,” he muttered, rousing enough to allow her to pull him to his feet.

  She draped his arm over her shoulder, and when he leaned heavily against her, they both almost toppled back to the ground. But setting her jaw, Grace willed herself to move one foot at a time as she supported Brady’s weight.

  They made it to the corner of the cabin, and both of them leaned heavily against it, catching their breath. “The shooting has stopped,” she murmured.

  “They’re moving in,” Brady rasped. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Leaving their belongings inside the cabin, they headed for the truck parked in front of the cabin. Grace helped Brady inside, and then she ran around and got in on the driver’s side. Her hands were sticky with his blood, and for a moment, panic s
eized her.

  Brady slumped in the seat beside her, his head thrown back. His face was white and drawn with pain, his shirt drenched with blood. She had to get him to a doctor and fast, but first, they had to get off this godforsaken mountain.

  She started the engine, and said a silent thanks to Leni when the motor turned over on the first try. Brady had backed the truck into the drive by the cabin for just such a getaway, and Grace jerked the gearshift into drive while simultaneously stepping on the gas. The truck shot forward so quickly she almost lost control. For a moment, they hovered precariously at the edge of the canyon before Grace whipped the wheel to the left, frantically guiding the truck into the narrow ruts that served as a road.

  Brady groaned, clutching his arm. Grace knew he had to be in agony, and the bumpy trail hardly helped matters. It was all she could do to keep the tires in the ruts. The rocky face of the mountain rose to the left of them, and to the right, the canyon fell away into nothingness. It occurred to Grace that if their pursuers somehow had gotten ahead of them and blocked the road, there would be no way to turn around. They would be trapped.

  Brady had told her they were twenty-five miles from the highway. The condition of the road kept their pace at a crawl, and to make matters worse, the mist froze on the windshield. Grace took one hand off the wheel long enough to turn on the defroster full blast, but the glass fogged badly. She wiped a hand across her window, trying to clear a porthole. In the side mirror, she glimpsed a movement behind them. She checked the rearview mirror, hoping she’d imagined the motion.

  But something was behind them, coming up fast. In the instant Grace recognized the vehicle as a four-wheeler, another one seemed to leap off the side of the mountain onto the trail. And then another.

  Her heart slammed like a torpedo into her ribcage. On the highway, the truck could have outdistanced the four-wheelers without a problem, but on the rocky trail, the all-terrain vehicles had the advantage. They didn’t have to stay in the ruts, but took to the center in between, flying along the jagged road as though it were a racetrack.