Security Detail

by Lisa Phillips

  She said that, but there was a gleam in her eyes Conner wanted to believe was hope. The same hope he felt when he saw her. Conner said, “You love me.”

  “Yes.”

  “I love you. For always, forever. The rest is just details to work out. Okay?”

  She chuckled once more. “I’d love to think that. Just details. Like Italian or Chinese food?”

  “I am hungry.”

  She shook her head, but she was smiling. “More like putting two lives together. Trying to make this work will be hard. We don’t even know if it’s possible.”

  “It’ll work.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Conner put everything he was feeling into another kiss. When he pulled back, a dreamy look had settled into Kayla’s eyes. She looked away, her cheeks flushed. “Because I’m sure. Okay?”

  She nodded. Conner kissed her once more, just a small touch of the lips.

  The doctor cleared his throat. “It’s nice to see you’re awake and feeling better.”

  Conner took Kayla’s hand. “I’m feeling a lot better.”

  EPILOGUE

  Six Weeks Later

  Kayla saved the file and sat back in the new chair that her father had bought her to replace the one that had been destroyed. She’d spent two weeks at his house, and made sure he was well enough that she didn’t feel guilty leaving him again. It hadn’t worked.

  Her job simply didn’t hold the allure it had. Not that she wanted to go chasing thugs again. She had no intention of getting wrapped up in something dangerous. Not ever. The thing that didn’t fit, the part that wasn’t right—okay, it was just plain missing—was the fact that Conner hadn’t even called.

  Not once since he’d checked out of the hospital and gone back to Washington.

  She’d broken down and called him, but he hadn’t answered and she didn’t want to leave a desperate voice mail that would only make her sound pathetic.

  Locke had answered. He was back at work, and he’d told her Conner was busy debriefing. But he had to be finished now. There was no way it took this long. He’d probably gone on to his next assignment. Maybe he had a “forever love” on every job. Maybe she was just—

  “Knock, knock.”

  She whirled around in the chair. “Conner.”

  He strode in wearing jeans and a T-shirt. And a jacket nothing like that beat-up leather one he’d worn the first time he walked in this office. He looked really, really good.

  Especially when his lips curved up like that. “You’re blushing.”

  Kayla cleared her throat and stood. “I guess I’m just…surprised to see you, is all.”

  “That’s valid.” He closed the door and walked to her.

  “How are you?”

  He touched the spot on his chest where the shot had hit him. “No hole. Still hurts, though. The doctor said it will for a while. No sudden movements, no exertion that will put stress on my body. So here I am. Not even thirty-five and retired.”

  “That’s not the end of the world.” Was it the reason he’d taken so long to come? “There are plenty of things you can do instead.”

  “Like run for the sheriff of a small town? One like Samson, Virginia?”

  Did he…

  Conner held out his hands and she set hers in them. “I’ve done the people of this town wrong. Maybe, if they trust me enough to let me tell them the truth of who I am, they might give me the chance to make it up to them by being their sheriff. It’s a long shot, and if I don’t make it, then I could get a PI license or find another job.”

  “I’m sure they’ll elect you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes, because I’m going to tell everyone in town what a great sheriff you’re going to be.” She sucked in a breath and smiled. “Say hi to your campaign manager.”

  Conner chuckled. “Hi.”

  “We can get started brainstorming right now.”

  “So long as we make the time for other things that don’t involve talking.”

  Kayla didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to let her heart hope too much, but she had enjoyed every single kiss they’d shared. Was that part of why he was here—and planning to stay, from the sound of it?

  Conner pulled a box from his jacket pocket. A velvet box. “Just so you know—” he held it up “—this is where we’re headed. It’s going to stay in my pocket until you’re ready, until you feel it’s the right time to say—”

  “Yes.”

  “Exactly. I want to wait until you think it’s the right time.”

  “No, I mean yes. Conner, I don’t want to wait. Not if you’re sure.”

  He stared at her silently for a moment. “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I am. You’re here, aren’t you? God brought us together for a reason. We helped each other through everything that happened with Andis. Now I know, I’m certain, that we can weather anything life throws at us. So long as we do it together.”

  His brows scrunched together. “That was pretty much exactly the same speech I was going to give you.”

  “Uh…sorry.”

  “It sounded better coming from you.”

  Kayla smiled. “Thanks.”

  Conner opened the box and held it up. A diamond on a setting of gorgeous stones. Blessings upon blessings. “You’re sure?”

  Kayla nodded. “I’m so sure.”

  He took the ring from the box. “Will you marry me?”

  Conner slid the ring on her finger.

  “Forever. For always. Yes.”

  *

  If you enjoyed SECURITY DETAIL, look for these other great books from author Lisa Phillips, available now.

  DOUBLE AGENT

  STAR WITNESS

  MANHUNT

  EASY PREY

  SUDDEN RECALL

  DEAD END

  Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com

  Keep reading for an excerpt from OUTSIDE THE LAW by Michelle Karl.

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  Dear Reader,

  I’m so glad you’ve embarked with me on this new series! I’m looking forward to seeing more into the lives of the men and women who are Secret Service agents.

  Conner and Kayla had a history, one that was at times a joy and at times a pain to delve into. None of us want to hide our true feelings because circumstances don’t allow us to express them, but that is what they had to do. It was wonderful to craft a story where God got the credit for bringing them back together.

  I praise and thank Him for the ways He has done that in my life, and my prayer is that He will show you ways He’s shown His mighty hand in your life.

  If you want to tell me about it, feel free to email lisaphillipsbks@gmail.com. I would love to hear the story. You can also contact me through my website at www.authorlisaphillips.com and sign up for my newsletter while you’re there!

  May God richly bless you.

  Lisa Phillips

  Meet the FBI special agents of the elite Classified K-9 Unit in this exciting new novella, AGENT IN TRAINING!

  These FBI agents solve the toughest cases with the help of their brave canine partners

  Collect all 6 titles:

  GUARDIAN by Terri Reed

  SHERIFF by Laura Scott

  SPECIAL AGENT by Valerie Hansen

  BOUNTY HUNTER by Lynette Eason

  BODYGUARD by Shirlee McCoy

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  Outside the Law

  by Michelle Karl

  ONE

  “I’m going to be fine, Auntie Zee. Please stop worrying about me.” Yasmine Browder hoisted her messenger bag higher on her shoulder and tucked her cell phone between her cheek and ear so she could reach back to pull her ponytail holder out of her hair. After having her hair up all day at the bakery, her scalp felt tight and in desperate need of relief. “I’m not lonely.”

  It was a partial truth, but she wanted to ease her aunt’s anxieties, not add to them.

  “I can’t help but worry about you, honey.” Her aunt’s words were strained. “You’ve been back for only eight months and you work so hard, and now, with Daniel gone…”

  Aunt Zara’s voice trailed off, but Yasmine caught the unspoken meaning. She ignored it and slipped the hair elastic around her wrist. She pulled her sweater sleeves down, sneezing at the flour released from where it had become trapped in the fabric. She normally wore short-sleeved shirts to work, but the weather had cooled with the change of seasons—and besides, she often found herself chilled by the weather in western New York State. Especially after having returned here only about eight months ago from a ten-year stay overseas in the Kingdom of Amar, the desert-swathed country where most of her mother’s family lived.

  “I have to put in the work if I want Cinnamon Sunrise to thrive. Starting a small business is no easy feat.” She’d come back to her hometown to live with her brother, but since his death several weeks ago, she’d begun wondering if she ever should have come back at all. He’d been happy to share his apartment with her, but now that she was on her own…well, Auntie Zee wasn’t far off in her concerns. In dusty Amar, she’d never been alone, constantly surrounded by friends and family, whereas the prospect of entering the apartment tonight, knowing she’d spend the evening inside by herself watching television or reading—or, if she was being honest with herself, probably working on new recipes for the bakery’s Thanksgiving menu—sounded less than appealing.

  But what was her other option? Admit defeat to her aunt and listen to another lecture on why she was wasting her life running a bakery? Or phone a relative back in Amar, only to hear a different lecture about how she should move back there for good? That wasn’t appealing, either, and besides, she loved Newherst. And New York State, despite the weather. She’d made a good life here in only eight months, and she cherished her childhood memories of this town.

  “You’re better than this, Yasmine. All that education and all that discipline you learned in the military, and you spend your days baking rolls. For what? You might as well go out and get married like your cousins. At least then—”

  “I like what I do, auntie.” Yasmine tried to maintain her composure as she trudged up the steps to her brother’s fifth-floor apartment. The elevator would have been faster, sure, but staying health-conscious had become a priority since she started spending her days around breads, sweets and pastries. “And I’m surprised you’re not more supportive. You remember that many of my recipes are based on your own wonderful creations, right? The people of Newherst adore your spiced flatbread.”

  Her aunt grumbled unintelligibly as Yasmine reached the apartment door and dug in her bag for the keys.

  “I’m home, auntie. I’ll call you tomorrow, all right?”

  “You’ll come for dinner, is what you’ll do. At six.”

  “The bakery closes at six. I’ll come as soon as the doors are shut and locked.” Yasmine found her keys in a side pocket and shook her head at the silliness of constantly losing the same item over and over each day, in the same bag, no less. She slipped the key into the lock.

  “Fine.” Her aunt went silent before releasing a heavy sigh. “I love you, honey. And I miss your brother.”

  “We all do, Auntie Zee. Love you, too, and see you tomorrow.” She turned the door handle, slipped her phone into her messenger bag and paused.

  Something felt wrong.

  She pulled the door shut again and slipped the key out. When she’d turned the key, she hadn’t heard a click, which meant that the door hadn’t been locked after all. She clearly remembered locking the door that morning. The only other people with a key to this apartment were the building landlord and her aunt, and her aunt didn’t drive.

  Her throat grew tight and dry as she considered her options. Maybe it was a neighbor and the landlord had let the person in. Or maybe there’d been a utilities issue and someone had come inside to fix it, and nobody had locked up afterward.

  She glanced down the hallway, seeing nothing else amiss.

  “You’re just being paranoid,” she mumbled. “You’re alone and jumpy since losing Daniel, and now look at you, talking to yourself. Get a grip before you give Auntie Zee more ammunition.”

  Taking a deep breath, Yasmine gripped the handle again and turned. She pushed open the door and lifted her messenger bag strap up to slip it off her shoulder. A click came from somewhere nearby, and she froze.

  “Hello? Is somebody there?” Stop it, she thought. There’s nobody—

  Something zipped past her ear, splintering the door frame beside her. At the same instant, the two front windows shattered as black-clad bodies burst through them into the room, aiming large semiautomatic weapons at her.

  As the next bullet zipped past her ear, she dropped to the floor and rolled out of the apartment, then sprang to her feet and sprinted down the hallway. Bullets tore through the wall beside her, ripping through her living room and bedroom. Those are powerful guns. She scolded herself for the thought. Why are you analyzing their weapons at a time like this? Go, go, go!

  Her left knee began to sting, but despite knowing what that sting might mean, she kept moving. She’d taken a bullet before, during her time in the Amar military. She’d joined out of loyalty to her family’s heritage and as a way to earn dual citizenship with both countries she considered home.

  She reached the elevator and paused, but the thundering of boots behind her said she’d run out of time. It was back to the stairs.

  She spun on her heel and slammed her body through the door into the stairwell. She felt air displacement as a bullet whipped past her shoulder. She gripped the hand rail and took the stairs three, four at a time, swinging her body around at each landing to gain precious seconds in her escape.

  Of course, if whoever was shooting at her had left somebody outside to guard the exits, she’d be done for. And she’d never know why.

  It doesn’t make sense. Why are people shooting at me? And why shoot to kill instead of taking me into custody or as a hostage?

  Had she done something or said something political since returning from Amar? But that wouldn’t make sense. Both countries were on the best of terms, especially since the recent discovery by an American professor of an ancient archaeological site in Amar had resulted in a boost in tourism and significant global press about the partnership between several universities there and here in the United States.

  “I don’t know anything,” she said through gritted teeth. “Wha
t are you after?”

  At the base of the stairs, she pressed her ear against the exit door, listening. She heard nothing unusual outside, but the pounding of heavy footfalls in the stairwell and the sudden ding of the elevator doors told her she’d run out of time to make a decision.

  It was escape or die, which left her with only one real choice. She shoved the crash bar on the door, blinking against the descending sun’s rays. The footfalls were growing closer and closer, and another gunshot told her that they weren’t too concerned about ricochets in the metal stairwell—so they were very stupid, they wore full body armor or they were highly trained and incredibly accurate shots when presented with a normal target. Perhaps they hadn’t accounted for her military training. Or maybe they had—maybe that’s why there were so many of them.

  Seeing no one outside waiting, Yasmine let the heavy metal door swing shut behind her as she sprinted toward the street. Several cars drove up and down the street on either side of the road, but she saw nothing unusual for this time of day…except the three black Suburbans parked in front of the apartment building. She crouched behind a steel waste container and peered around the corner, praying that nobody in the SUVs had been assigned to watch this edge of the building. When no one jumped out of the vehicles and ran toward her, she sent a quick prayer of thanks to God and tried to calm her racing thoughts.

  At any second, men with guns would come bursting out of that stairwell door, and it wouldn’t take them long to find her. She couldn’t run back to the building to reach her car—the parking structure was on the other side, and if there were still men in the black SUVs, she’d never get there in one piece.

  None of it made sense, but she’d have to figure out the whys later. If she survived.

  She took a deep breath and counted to ten, exhaling slowly. She’d have to make a run for it down the street. She had to make it only one block before she’d reach a fairly busy street, where she should be able to get help and maybe flag down a ride to the police station. She plunged her hand into her bag and touched her phone, thinking to get a head start on a 911 phone call, but she’d run out of time—the side door burst open and five black-garbed men poured out and stood in a V-shaped formation, scanning the area. Even their faces were covered by shiny helmets and faceplates.