Bodyguard

by Shirlee McCoy

  “She’ll be right on the other side of it,” he continued. “She’ll pick us up there.”

  They’d reached the bottom of the hill, the pungent smell of the swamp filling her nose.

  She could see lights in the distance, flashing rhythmically. Was it too much to hope that Angus had been in the car and that he’d been caught by the police?

  “Maybe they caught Angus.” She spoke the thought aloud, and he shook his head.

  “Whoever was in the car drove away before the police arrived.”

  “You’re well-informed.”

  He shrugged. “Zeke headed back to talk to Deputy Sheriff Sinclair and to retrieve the SUV. He sent a text before I caught up to you.”

  “You guys work fast.”

  “We’ve been doing this a long time,” he replied. “That means we’ve got a system, protocol, things that we prepare for.”

  “If you’re trying to make a point, you can just go ahead and spell it out for me.”

  “Once we get in my coworker’s vehicle and head for the safe house, your days of calling the shots are going to have to be over.”

  “I told you, I wasn’t trying to escape,” she started to explain.

  “That’s not why I’m saying this. You’ve been in witness protection. Being in a safe house is different. You’ll be housebound for most of the next month. If the trial date is extended, it’ll be longer.”

  “I understand that.”

  “Good, and I hope you’ll understand when I tell you that my team expects your complete obedience to the rules.”

  “The term obedience seems a little...archaic.”

  “It can seem like anything, but we’re still going to expect it. Following the rules will keep you alive. Breaking them could get you killed. Before we get in the car and make the trip to the safe house, before the team and I agree to play bodyguard for the next month, we need to know that we have your complete cooperation.”

  “You do,” she said and meant it.

  “Really?” He raised a dark eyebrow, and she shrugged.

  “Yes.”

  “That was a lot easier than I thought it would be.”

  “Dying young is cliché. I’d rather live awhile.”

  He smiled. “Good to know. Come on. We need to get moving.”

  He took her hand, and she didn’t pull away.

  She wanted this moment of quiet, of walking beside a man who seemed willing to risk everything for her. She’d think about what it meant later. She’d mull over his words, wonder about his answers, ask herself if she were reading something into nothing.

  Later.

  Right now, she was content to let things be what they were—walking hand in hand through the moonlit swamp, King prancing along beside them.

  The moon had sunk even lower on the horizon, the swamp creatures slithering just out of sight. Nothing had changed. Her uncle still wanted her dead. Her brother was still a murderer. Her sister was angry, and her friends probably thought she was dead. Her business was being run by employees, and she didn’t know what would be left of it when she returned.

  There’d be no wedding, no marriage, no children, because Brent was exactly what Ian had said—a coward.

  Yeah. Nothing had changed.

  But some of what had stayed was good: God was still on His throne. The sun would eventually rise. Life would go on for as long as it did.

  And she wasn’t alone.

  She had a team of people working to keep her safe. She had a dog prancing along beside her.

  And she had Ian.

  Somehow that made her feel better than anything had in a very long time.

  * * *

  It took longer to reach the road than Ian had anticipated, the wet spring and summer creating boggy terrain that made walking difficult.

  An hour into the walk and Esme was visibly slowing, her limp more pronounced with each step. Julianne had already texted twice, asking for updates on their location and ETA.

  She was clearly worried.

  The safe house location couldn’t be compromised, and sitting on the side of the road waiting for Ian and Esme to emerge was going to attract attention.

  Or so she kept saying.

  Ian knew she was right, but he couldn’t push any harder than he was.

  “So,” Esme panted as she pulled her foot out of thick mud and managed another struggling step, “how much farther?”

  “Not much.”

  “You said that a half hour ago.”

  He gave her an apologetic look. “I didn’t realize how tough the terrain would be.”

  “It doesn’t seem to be bothering King,” she said. “Or you.”

  “We’re used to hiking through stuff like this.”

  “This happens a lot?”

  “No, but we run training exercises with the team. We don’t make it easy. If you’re going to be part of the tactical unit, you’ve got to be ready for just about anything.”

  “Sounds like wedding planning. But more dangerous,” she joked, but her voice was flat and hollow, her fatigue obvious.

  “Want to take a break?” he suggested. “My colleague can walk in and meet us here.”

  “What good would that do? I’d still have to walk out.”

  “Julianne is good at improvising,” he told her. “We might be able to create a gurney of some—”

  “No.” She said it emphatically.

  “You didn’t let me finish.”

  “Because you were going to suggest that the two of you carry me out, and it’s not going to happen.”

  “It’s okay to admit when we’re done in, Esme.”

  She shot him a glare. “It’s also okay to admit when you aren’t making a situation better, Ian,” she responded, and he laughed.

  He couldn’t help himself.

  Esme was different. Refreshing. Totally and uniquely herself.

  “Well,” she huffed, “it’s true.”

  “I apologize. I was trying to give you options. Not annoy you.”

  “Everything is annoying me. The bugs, the mud, the horrible smell.”

  “Yeah. The swamp does have a unique odor.”

  “I was talking about me,” she said, and he laughed again.

  “I’m serious,” she muttered. “I smell like bug spray and swamp mud with a hint of cake batter.”

  “More like vanilla and whipped cream,” he responded, and she smiled.

  “You’re a funny guy, Ian, but we both know I’ve rolled in the muck one too many times today. I want a hot shower and clean clothes and a comfortable bed. I want to lie down and not have to worry that I’ll open my eyes and see Angus.”

  “You’ll have all of that soon.”

  “If I don’t collapse from exhaustion first,” she replied, limping along beside him. Despite her joking complaints, she’d had a good attitude about the long walk. She’d asked questions about King and about the training program they used for their working dogs. She’d asked how he’d gotten into police work and what his father would have thought about his work with the FBI. He’d answered because she’d seemed sincerely interested.

  It felt oddly good to be with Esme. Despite the circumstances, despite her family name, despite all the things that should keep him from being attracted to her, he was.

  “We really can take a break,” he said, and she shot him a scathing look, but there was humor in her eyes.

  “I think I explained my need for a hot shower and a comfortable bed. Taking a break isn’t going to get me any of those things.”

  “It’s possible King needs a break,” he offered, and she snorted.

  “King could probably walk for days and not get tired.”

  Hearing his name, the Malinois trot
ted closer, bumping Esme’s hand with his nose the way he did when he wanted attention.

  She scratched behind his ears. “You’re a good dog, King. If I ever get my first puppy, I hope he turns out like you.”

  “You’ve never had a dog?”

  “We traveled too much when I was a kid, and now that I’m an adult, life is busy. Brent and I were planning to get one, though. I do a lot of my work from home. I just needed a home with a fence and a yard. We planned to get that, too.”

  “There are plenty of dogs that do well in apartments, Esme. If you really want one, I can help you choose one after this is over.”

  “A few hours ago, I’d have said no. Brent was really the one who wanted the dog. I was mostly on the fence about it. My sister has a little yappy dog that hates my guts. I’m not so keen on it, either, so I figured I wasn’t a dog person. Now that I’ve met King, I can see the appeal. They’re good companions. If I’m going to be a lonely old maid, I might as well have some pets to spend time with.”

  “Old maid?”

  “Cat lady?”

  “I doubt you’ll be either of those things.”

  “I’m certainly not going to be married. I already spent my wedding savings on the wedding that wasn’t.” She patted King again, and Ian could see her hand shaking. She didn’t want to stop, and he wasn’t going to force her to, but maybe he could distract her from the arduous walk.

  “When this is over, I can help you choose a puppy.”

  “You’re assuming we’ll be living somewhere close to each other.”

  “There are planes, trains, automobiles.”

  “There are also a million dreams that never come true, and if I let myself think about getting through this, of coming out on the other side of it with a house and a business and a friend and a dog...” She shrugged.

  “What’s the worst that could happen if you believed that?”

  “I might be really disappointed if it didn’t happen. I’ve been through enough disappointment recently. I’m not up to facing another.”

  “I won’t disappoint you, Esme,” he said, the words pouring out before he could think them through. The promises right on the tip of his tongue.

  Promises about being there for her, about helping her as she transitioned into whatever life she was going to create.

  He might have said more.

  He probably would have, but the soft hum of an engine broke the stillness.

  Not a car or truck.

  This sounded more like a bi-engine plane.

  Which could mean nothing, or it could mean something.

  Angus or his henchmen had driven away, but that didn’t mean they’d given up.

  He grabbed Esme’s hand, pulling her with him as he sprinted toward the road.

  TEN

  She lost a boot and sock somewhere in the muck, but she made it to the road with one bare foot, a throbbing ankle and absolutely no breath in her lungs.

  Esme would have stopped the minute her bare foot hit hard pavement. She would have stood for a couple of minutes, gasping and coughing and trying to catch her breath, but Ian was dragging her along as he sprinted up the road.

  She knew what they were running from.

  She could see the plane.

  Worse, she could see its searchlight, aimed at the ground and highlighting the swamp and the marsh grass.

  How far away was it?

  A mile? Less?

  They needed to reach shelter before it reached them. Otherwise...

  She wasn’t going to think about that.

  Nope, instead she was just going to keep running, her hand in Ian’s, King sticking so close to her side she knew that he sensed danger.

  He barked. Once. High and quick, and then he shot forward, bounding over a small hill and disappearing.

  Seconds later, he reappeared, another dog running beside him. A hound of some sort. She could hear it baying over the frantic slush of her pulse.

  Her legs burned, her lungs ached, but she couldn’t feel the pain in her ankle.

  That was good.

  What would be better was outrunning the plane.

  It seemed to be heading toward them, swooping low over the marshy land they’d just left.

  Were there footprints?

  Was that what the spotlight was revealing?

  “We’re almost there,” Ian said.

  He wasn’t even out of breath.

  “Just so you know, when I get back home,” she panted, “I’m going to train sprint runs. That way the next time a plane comes after me, I’ll have a chance.”

  Her words were drowned out by the frantic baying and barking of the dogs, the drone of the airplane engines and the sound of a car motor.

  Headlights flashed at the top of the hill.

  There. Then gone.

  Her imagination?

  She wasn’t sure, but Ian didn’t seem concerned, he was heading straight for them, still running, still holding her hand.

  The dogs met them halfway up the hill, the hound bounding excitedly, its vest glowing in the darkness.

  A working dog.

  A team member?

  It had to be. Anything else would be too much of a coincidence.

  Julianne’s dog. That made sense, and so did the small SUV cresting the hill, idling there. No light, just gleaming paint in the fading moonlight.

  It probably took only seconds to reach the car.

  It felt like a lifetime, everything moving in slow motion. The plane. The dogs. Esme’s legs.

  The door opened as they approached, and a woman hopped out. Tall, muscular, quick.

  Those were the impressions Esme had before the woman grabbed her arm, ushered her into the back of the vehicle.

  The hound hopped in after her, scrambling for position as the door slammed shut.

  And they were off. Pulling a quick U-turn and speeding down the other side of the hill.

  Which would have been great.

  Except that Ian wasn’t with them. Neither was King.

  “What’s going on?” Esme demanded. Or tried to. Her voice rasped out, her lungs still heaving from the run.

  “I’m taking you to the safe house,” the woman responded.

  “Where’s Ian?”

  “Throwing them off our tail.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that we don’t want the airplane following us. Ian is going to make sure that if it’s a search plane looking for you, whoever is flying it will think you’re still running. At least—” she glanced in the rearview mirror and met Esme’s eyes “—that’s what I’m assuming the plan is. Ian and I didn’t have much time to discuss it.”

  “More like you didn’t have any time.”

  “True. He signaled me to take you and go. So I did. I’m Julianne Martinez, by the way. Special agent, but I’m not big into titles. The dog is Thunder.”

  “He’s cute.”

  “And loud?”

  “That, too.”

  “I know! But it’s useful when he’s indicating. He’s an evidence detection dog, and he likes to let us know when he’s found something. He was very happy when he found you. He loves new friends.”

  Obviously, because he was nearly sitting in Esme’s lap, looking at her expectantly.

  “Usually, I crate him in the back,” Julianne continued. “This is a rental, so I don’t have that luxury. If he becomes a pest, just tell him no.”

  “Okay. Thanks,” Esme responded by rote, but her mind wasn’t on the conversation. It was on Ian, King and the plane. “They could have guns,” she said, voicing the concern out loud. “They probably do.”

  “Ian can handle whatever they dish out. Don’t worry about him.
”

  “That’s easier said than done,” she muttered.

  “Yeah. I know.” She sounded like she did know. Like maybe there was a story hidden in the matter-of-fact reply.

  She didn’t give Esme a chance to ask for details.

  “Do me a favor,” she said. “Duck real low in the seat. We’re going through a populated area. I don’t want anyone to see you.”

  “Who’d be looking at this time of night?” she asked, but she did what she was told, pressing her chin to her knees, the scent of wet earth drifting up from her mud-coated feet.

  One booted.

  One bare.

  She studied both, her back aching from the odd position.

  She didn’t straighten.

  She’d told Ian that she’d cooperate, that she’d follow directions and do exactly what she was told. She’d meant it.

  Esme desperately wanted to get through this alive, and she’d really like everyone else to get through it the same way.

  “You doing okay back there?” Julianne called.

  “Fine.”

  “Just a couple more minutes. This is kind of a shanty town, but there are definitely people around.”

  “And you think one of them is in my uncle’s pocket?”

  “I don’t like to speculate, so how about I just tell you what I know? Your uncle and brother have been running drugs and people through the airport here for several years. They’ve made connections in the surrounding area, and they have several people on their payroll.” She took a breath. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Angus put out the word that you need to be found and stopped, and it wouldn’t shock me if one of the people living in this little town was very happy and willing to make that happen.”

  “Nice.”

  “No. It’s not. None of what my team deals with is nice, but that’s why we do it. We want to stop people like your uncle from hurting and corrupting others.”

  “It’s hard to be corrupted unless you want to be,” Esme pointed out.

  “Some people think that. I think that it’s easy to fall into the wrong crowd when the wrong crowd is all you know. Angus and Reginald take advantage of that. They go after people who are already struggling, and they offer them a way out of poverty. Of course, the people who accept the offer don’t realize they’re selling themselves into modern slavery. They make money, but they’re always beholden to the boss. If they try to break away, they die.”