Shattered: (McIntyre Security Bodyguard Series - Book 4)

by April Wilson

  I nod. Even in the face of this calamity, he’s still thinking about me. And that makes me feel even worse for having any doubts.

  “Don’t,” he says, as if he can read my mind. “This isn’t your fault. It’s Luciana’s doing, and I promise you, she’s going to live to regret it.”

  Shane stands, and then he pulls me to my feet and into his arms. “Please, trust me,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to my forehead. “You’re my life, Beth. I’d never do anything to jeopardize what we have. I’m going to marry you. As soon as we get this mess cleared up and my parents are home, I’m putting a wedding band on your finger.”

  He holds me tightly against his chest, and I can feel the rapid, yet steady beating of his heart beneath my ear. His chest is warm and firm, and so achingly familiar. Part of me wants to melt into him and forget all this craziness. Part of me wants to go home with him and pretend none of this ever happened. But those damned images are burned into my head, taunting me, challenging everything I believe.

  “Come, walk me to the door,” he says, releasing me.

  We walk hand-in-hand out to the living room, where Jamie and Sam are seated at the small dining table. They both jump to their feet.

  “Jamie, Beth wants to stay here tonight,” Shane says. “Is that okay?”

  Jamie seems surprised. “Of course it is. She’s always welcome here, you both know that.”

  Shane lays his hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezes. “Thanks. Make sure she eats, will you?”

  “I will,” Jamie says.

  “What can I do?” Sam says, and he’s looking at me.

  Shane glances at him. “Just keep doing your job. When Beth’s away from home, you stick to her like glue until I get this situation resolved. Luciana’s lost her grip on reality, so there’s no telling what she’s capable of. I don’t want Luciana anywhere near Beth. And if Luciana comes inside the bookstore again, I want her arrested for trespassing.”

  Sam nods. “You got it.”

  Before he takes his leave, Shane gives me one last hug and kisses my forehead. “Trust me,” he whispers. “I’ll call you in the morning with an update on the investigation. In the meanwhile, rest. And please eat. You’re not eating enough.”

  I nod. “I will.”

  He releases me, and just as he’s about to turn for the door, I grab his arm. I’m such a mess. Here I am demanding that he give me space, and yet I can’t bear for him to leave. “Shane, please,” I say. But I honestly don’t know what I’m asking for. Please don’t leave? Please do something to make this all better?

  He gives me a gentle smile. “I know,” he says, gently stroking my cheek. “I will.”

  He kisses my forehead once more, and then he’s out the door and gone. I stand frozen to the spot, feeling utterly bereft. It’s all I can do to not run after him, call him back, beg him to stay with me.

  “Everything’s going to be fine,” Jamie says, putting his arm across my shoulders. “Just be patient and let him do what he needs to do. He’ll find the evidence he’s looking for.”

  * * *

  The three of us settle down for a quiet afternoon. Jamie returns to his office to write, and Sam and I crash on the sofa. I try to read on my phone, but my mind is wandering too much for me to concentrate. I can’t follow the story at all, so I put down my phone with a sigh.

  Sam throws me the remote control to the television. “Let’s watch TV. It’ll get your mind off things.”

  Personally, I don’t think anything will accomplish that. But I give it a try, channel surfing, looking for anything that will help pass the time. Finally, we settle on an episode of Chicago’s Best – a local program that highlights the best of what Chicago has to offer. It’s the episode on pizza – which Chicago is famous for. I’ve already seen this episode a half-dozen times, but since Sam and I both happen to be addicted to pizza, it’s an appropriate choice.

  “Now I’m hungry,” Sam says, when the program ends.

  I realize that my meltdown at the restaurant resulted in Sam missing his lunch. We watch a couple more episodes, and then Jamie emerges from his office.

  “How about some dinner, you guys?” Jamie says. “What sounds good?”

  “I’m not picky,” Sam says. “Anything’s fine.”

  When I don’t respond, Jamie says, “How about you, Beth?”

  “I can’t eat anything right now. My stomach is tied in knots.”

  Jamie drops down beside me on the sofa and pats my knee. “I promised Shane I’d feed you, so that’s what I’m going to do. So, how about some comfort food? I make a killer mac ‘n cheese. Or, how about a grilled cheese sandwich and chicken noodle soup? You’ve got to pick something.”

  “You’re going to cook?” I say. The thought of Jamie cooking makes me smile. But I wouldn’t put it past him – the man can do anything he sets his mind to.

  “Yes, I’m going to cook. What, you don’t think I can?”

  “No offense, dude,” Sam says, “but in case you hadn’t noticed, you’re blind.”

  “Watch and learn, pal,” Jamie says, chuckling. “So, Beth, what’s it going to be? It’s your call.”

  “Macaroni and cheese?”

  Jamie hops up and heads for the kitchen to grab a pot from the cupboard. “Mac ‘n cheese, it is.”

  Chapter 19

  We’re having a sleepover.

  I can’t remember the last time I had a real sleepover, but this is exactly what it feels like. Although, instead of spending the night with a bunch of girls, I’m spending the night with my fiancé’s brother and my bodyguard. I guess we make an odd trio, but tonight it feels right.

  Sam and I hover in the kitchen watching Jamie make macaroni and cheese. And not a box mix. He’s making it from scratch – like, he’s making his own cheese sauce. The guy has balls. He moves carefully and methodically as he puts a pot of water on the stove to boil.

  “Jeez, Jamie,” Sam says, when Jamie pours milk into a measuring cup. He’s making a béchamel cheese sauce with a mix of hand-grated cheeses. “You don’t cut corners, do you?”

  Jamie shrugs. “I got tired of eating fast food, so I learned to cook by watching videos on YouTube. I guess Ellie spoiled me for home cooking.”

  “Ellie spoils us all,” I say, remembering how the housekeeper-slash-cook at Shane’s estate in Kenilworth used to send my favorite breakfast up to my bedroom every morning when I was still too weak to come down to the dining room.

  If I didn’t know Jamie was blind, I’d never believe it watching him in the kitchen. He measures, pours, and stirs without missing a beat. The three of us snack on potato chips and French onion dip and drink root beer from chilled bottles while the food cooks.

  “I’ve been trying to get Molly to let me cook dinner for her,” Jamie says, “but she always comes up with some excuse why she can’t come over.”

  “She’s very pretty,” I say, picturing the brunette who lives in the apartment next door.

  “Is she?” Jamie says dismissively. “I know the sound of her voice, and I know what she smells like, but I have no idea what she looks like.”

  “That’s TMI dude,” Sam says.

  Jamie chuckles. “She smells like a mix of vanilla – her hand lotion – and peppermint – her shampoo. Tea tree oil, I think it is. It smells good.”

  “I’m glad you clarified that,” Sam says.

  I smack Sam on his arm. “She’s my height, about five-eight,” I say. “She has shoulder-length, wavy brown hair and brown eyes. She has a nice figure. I’d say she’s probably in her early thirties.”

  Jamie nods as he takes in her description. “I always wondered what she looks like, but that’s not really something you ask someone you’ve just met, you know.”

  Sam hops up onto the kitchen counter. “Are you crushing on her?” he says before popping a chip into his mouth.

  Jamie shrugs. “She’s nice. I like her. She’s an artist – she has a small art gallery and studio on Division Street where she p
aints abstracts, mostly for corporate clients.” He shrugs. “I’ve asked her out to lunch, I’ve asked her to let me cooker her dinner, but so far, no luck. She’s got me solidly in the friend zone, and I don’t know how to change that. She was divorced about a year ago, and she says she’s not interested in dating anyone right now.”

  “Keep trying, Jamie,” Beth says. “If you like her, keep trying. You’re a real catch. She has to realize that. Just be patient and give her time. If she was recently divorced, she may not be ready for anything new.”

  The timer on Jamie’s phone goes off, indicating our mac and cheese is ready. Jamie takes the baking dish out of the oven and serves up some cheesy goodness for the three of us, along with some veggies he steamed on the stove and fresh bottles of root beer. The three of us sit at the small dining table to eat.

  Jamie and Sam compete to see who can tell the funniest stories from their time in the military. They have a lot in common, both having served in special ops, and both having been seriously injured.

  For the first time in a long time, my appetite comes back, and I’m so busy laughing at their stories that I’ve forgotten my problems for a while and cleaned my plate before I even realize it.

  “How about ice cream and a movie?” Jamie says, when we’ve all finished our food.

  Sam grabs his plate and silverware and carries them to the kitchen. “Sounds good to me.”

  Sam and I rinse the dirty dishes and put them in the dishwasher, while Jamie gets out bowls and spoons for mint chocolate chip ice cream. We settle on the latest Marvel Avengers movie, and the three of us sit on the sofa, with me in the middle, and watch our movie and eat ice cream.

  During the movie, Sam discreetly deals with two text messages. When my curiosity gets the best of me and I ask who’s texting him, he points at the TV and shushes me. Jamie gets a phone call and goes into the other room to take it. Surprisingly, my phone remains silent all evening long. I know it’s not fair to be disappointed, but I thought Shane might at least text me this evening, if not call. But he doesn’t. In fact, no one does, which is odd. I usually get messages from Lia and Erin and Gabrielle every evening. But my phone is silent tonight.

  By the time the movie’s over, I can barely keep my eyes open. My day’s catching up with me, and I’m about to crash hard.

  “Sam, you can sleep on the living room sofa,” Jamie says. “It’s actually quite comfortable for sleeping, and it’s long enough to fit you. Beth, you can have my bed, and I’ll sleep on the sofa in my office.”

  Jamie lays spare bedding and a pillow on the sofa for Sam. Then he changes the bedding on his bed for me, and when I offer to help, he politely declines.

  “That was Shane who called me earlier,” he says as he’s making up the bed for me. “I just thought you’d want to know. He called primarily to check on you, to make sure you’d eaten something this evening, but also to tell me they’ve had no luck yet with the images. They’ve ruled out any type of photo editing, although that’s not really helpful, is it?”

  I nod, appreciating the fact that Jamie’s filling me in. And then, feeling like an idiot, I realize he can’t see me nodding. He does everything so effortlessly, it’s easy to forget he’s blind.

  “Thanks for letting me know,” I say. Still, I wish I could have heard Shane’s voice. I guess I shouldn’t complain, though, as I’m the one who essentially sent him away. Now, facing the prospect of sleeping alone in a strange bed, I rather regret my earlier decision. I’d give anything to have Shane here now.

  “Don’t worry,” Jamie says, pulling me into his arms for a much-needed hug. “Everything will work out fine. Shane won’t rest until he gets to the bottom of this. And I mean that literally. They’re working through the night on it. I don’t think he’ll sleep until they find what they’re looking for.”

  After he finishes making up the bed for me, Jamie gives me a brand-new toothbrush from his linen closet and one of his T-shirts for me to sleep in. I head to the bathroom to get ready for bed as best I can and take my pill.

  As I change out of my clothes, I feel a pang in my chest, remembering that Shane said he wouldn’t go home without me – that he’d sleep in his office apartment instead of sleeping in our bed at home alone. I’m swamped with guilt. Now that a few hours have passed, and Jamie and Sam succeeded in getting my mind off those images for a while, I feel like I’m the one who betrayed our relationship. Shane wouldn’t cheat on me, he just wouldn’t. In the cold, rational light of day, well figuratively speaking anyway, I know that.

  I head back to the bedroom, where Jamie is waiting for me.

  “If you need anything in the night, just call me,” he says. “I’m a light sleeper. I’ll hear you.”

  “Thank you, Jamie, for everything.”

  “You’re very welcome. Now, get some sleep. It’s late, and you’ve had a difficult day.”

  Jamie leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. The room is dark except for the lamp on the nightstand, which casts a soft, warm nightlight on the bed. I climb into bed and check my phone for messages – there’s nothing.

  I need to hear Shane’s voice. I need to know he doesn’t resent me for not going home with him tonight. I’m fighting the urge to call him when my phone vibrates with an incoming call. I look at the screen, almost afraid to see who it is. If it’s Luciana, I’ll lose it.

  But it’s not Luciana, thank God.

  It’s Shane.

  My heart starts thundering in my chest as I accept the call. “Shane?”

  “Hi, sweetheart. I asked Jamie to let me know when you were going to bed so I could check-in with you, make sure you’re all right, and say goodnight.”

  Hearing the sound of his voice sends a wave of warmth through me. There’s absolutely no resentment in his tone, no reproach. He sounds… normal, albeit a little tired.

  I burst into tears. “I’m so sorry,” I cry, trying to muffle my sobs. “I miss you. I shouldn’t have – ”

  “Hey,” he says, his voice gentle. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You had every right to be upset by what you saw.”

  “I know you didn’t cheat on me,” I tell him, hoping it’s not too little, too late. “I know you didn’t.”

  There’s a moment of silence on the phone, accompanied by a deep exhalation of breath. Then he says, “Thank you, sweetheart. But I’m still going to prove it to you. I don’t ever want this incident hanging over our heads. Someday, when we’re old and gray,” he says, chuckling, “and you get mad at me for leaving the toilet lid up, I don’t want you throwing Luciana in my face.”

  I laugh, too, although it doesn’t last long. I feel too much guilt. “I’m sorry, Shane.”

  “There’s no need to apologize, sweetheart. I mean that. Now, are you in bed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Go to sleep and dream good dreams, okay? The guys in the lab are calling for me. I’d better go see what they want. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? As soon as I can get away, I’ll come to you.”

  “Okay. You sleep well too.”

  “I will. I love you, honey.”

  “I love you.” I should have said that to him earlier this evening, and I didn’t. “I’m sorry, Shane.”

  “Hey, shh, no more apologizing.” Then, as he’s speaking to someone else, I hear him call, “I’m coming, Scott.” Then he’s back to me. “Go to sleep now. I need to know you’re getting a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  We hang up and I turn onto my side, curling up alone in the big bed. I wrap my arms around a spare pillow and wish it was Shane. It’s been a while since I’ve slept alone, and I find there’s way too much room in the bed.

  Leaving the nightlight on, I close my tired eyes and count the minutes until I will see Shane again.

  Chapter 20

  I haven’t had a nightmare in a while. They stopped shortly after Shane killed Howard Kline. But with all the stress of today, I guess it’s not surprising that I have one.

  I’m
walking through the medical school library where I used to work. It’s late at night, and the library is empty and quiet as a tomb. The lights are off, and the only illumination is from the moonlight streaming through the large windows.

  I’m naked, and I shiver from the cold night air.

  I jump when I hear a door slam. The library is closed, so there shouldn’t be anyone here – including me. I don’t even work here anymore.

  I’m glancing around, looking for a safe place to hide, when I hear an unfamiliar noise...a sharp staccato on a hard floor. It takes me a minute to realize it’s the sound of high heels striking the floor. The noise is getting louder and louder, coming closer, so I run up the stairs to hide in my old office on the second floor. But the door is locked. I try to open it using the digital keypad, but my code no longer works.

  So I turn and run into the stacks of books, hiding between floor-to-ceiling racks filled with medical reference books. I keep moving deeper and deeper into the bookcases, deeper into the shadows where it’s so dark I can barely see two feet in front of me. And yet the sharp tapping of heels keeps coming, getting close and closer, never relenting.

  Suddenly, the noise stops and I hear a woman laugh... it’s a coy, feminine sound.

  Then I hear a familiar, masculine voice. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”

  Oh, thank God, it’s Shane! He’s in the next aisle over. I run toward the sound of his voice – toward safety – and as I turn the corner, I come to a screeching halt.

  He’s standing right in front of Luciana, who’s dressed in the same slinky black dress and spikey heels she wore to the nightclub the other night. He’s smiling at her, touching her face with reverence. “You shouldn’t be here, darling.” He draws her close and gives her a soft, lingering kiss, his hands cradling her face as his lips cling to hers. “Come, let me take you home before Beth sees you. She’ll ruin everything.”

  “No!” I cry out in anguish at his betrayal, my body doubling over in physical pain. I feel like I’ve been stabbed through the heart, like my heart has been shredded.