Undercover Bodyguard

by Shirlee McCoy

  Please, Lord, don’t let her die.

  “I understand that, Malone. I know why you’ve been digging. I’d have done the same in your position, but you may have dug up more than any of us suspected. You’ve obviously made someone very, very uncomfortable.”

  “Right, and here’s my question for you, Detective. What are you doing about it?”

  “We’ve reopened the case files of the murders at Good Samaritan, and we’re looking into Peterson’s alibis again. We’ve also sent men out to question him regarding his whereabouts this evening. Your men reported two perps. If he doesn’t have an alibi, it’s possible he was one of them.”

  “And the other perp?”

  “That’s where things get interesting. The doctor has an old army buddy who just happens to be on our short list of persons of interest in the serial-arson case.”

  “That’s just now coming out?”

  “We had no reason to try to link Peterson to the arsonist before. Once we did, we started asking around. Wallace McGregor’s name was mentioned in conjunction with the doctor. Several friends and even Peterson’s wife reported that the two are as close as brothers. The thing is, Wallace is a retired firefighter. Retired because he set his own house on fire for the insurance money eleven years ago. His wife was sick at the time, and he said he was desperate for the money, so the judge let him off with probation.”

  “It sounds like you’ve got your man.”

  “Men, and we’re going to build cases so strong they’ll be in jail for the rest of their lives.”

  “Good.” But Ryder only cared about one thing at that moment. Seeing Shelby, looking into her eyes, touching her warm skin.

  Please, God, let her live.

  “Is there anything else you need to discuss with me, Detective?” Ryder asked.

  “We’re done for now. We’ll have guards posted 24/7 outside Ms. Simons’s hospital room if she…” His voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat. “We’ll make sure she stays safe until our suspects are rounded up.”

  “Thanks.” Ryder didn’t bother pointing out that they hadn’t been successful in keeping her safe so far. No one had.

  The thought pounded through his head and his heart, the guilt of letting her be hurt filling him up.

  The operating-room door swung open, and a dark-haired man dressed in blood-spattered scrubs stepped out. He met Ryder’s eyes, and the somberness of his gaze made Ryder’s heart skip a beat. “I’m Dr. Griffon. Are you related to the patient?”

  “I’m a friend. How is she?”

  “Holding her own. We had to repair a torn artery, and her scapula is cracked, but she should make a full recovery. We’ve taken her to ICU. We’ll be able to monitor her condition more carefully there.”

  “I’d like to speak with her as soon as possible,” Detective Jasper said, and the doctor frowned.

  “You may have to wait several days, Officer. She’s in no condition to speak with anyone.”

  “It’s Detective Jasper, and I understand that she needs to heal, but—”

  “You heard the doctor, Detective. She can’t speak with you,” Ryder cut in, his eyes still on the surgeon.

  “Here’s my card. Give me a call as soon as she’s able to.” The detective handed Dr. Griffon his card, then walked away.

  “I’d like to see her. Will that be possible?” Ryder asked, but he didn’t plan to take no for an answer. He’d promised Shelby he’d be there when she came out of surgery, and he would be.

  “Once she’s settled in. The ICU is on the second floor. I’ll have a nurse—”

  An alarm sounded, the siren screaming through the corridor.

  “Fire alarm!” the doctor shouted over the sound. “We’d better get out of here.”

  “What about Shelby?”

  “The ICU staff know the procedure. She’ll be wheeled to safety, but only if it’s necessary.”

  Ryder barely heard the last few words—he was already on his way to the stairwell. Detective Jasper had promised 24/7 protection, but Ryder didn’t know if guards were already stationed near the ICU.

  And maybe that’s what the alarm was all about.

  Not a real fire, a distraction. Just like the explosion had been.

  Ryder’s heart raced as he bounded up two flights of stairs, brushing by a half-dozen people who were running to the exit. He burst out into the second-floor corridor, ignoring a nurse who motioned for him to leave.

  The sign for the ICU was at the end of the corridor, and he ran against the current of people streaming toward the stairwell.

  “You going in?” Darius shouted above the screaming alarm, and Ryder nodded, glad his friend had followed him up.

  “Stay out here. If you see anyone coming this way, assume that he’s trouble.”

  The alarm cut off as Ryder opened the door to the ICU.

  Several nurses stood near a computer screen, monitoring patients as they spoke quietly to one another. They looked up as Ryder approached.

  “Sir, you need to stay outside until the fire department gives us the all clear.”

  “I’m Shelby Simons’s bodyguard,” he responded, and the oldest of the group frowned.

  “We were told she’d have police protection. No one mentioned a bodyguard. I’ll check with security after the doctor finishes with her. Go ahead and have a seat.” She gestured to a row of chairs near the nurses’ station, but Ryder had no intention of sitting. He’d just seen Shelby’s doctor, and he’d been on his way out of the hospital.

  “What doctor?”

  “Her family practitioner. Dr. Peterson.”

  “Peterson?” Ryder’s blood went cold.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “What room is she in?”

  “I—”

  “What room?”

  “Room 10. He walked in right before you got here. I—”

  Ryder didn’t listen. He ran.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Drowning.

  Shelby fought as she sank like lead to the bottom of the deep end of the pool. Summertime in California, and she’d been swimming since before she could walk, but she couldn’t push up from the bottom, couldn’t reach the crisp, clear sky that hovered above the surface of the water.

  She shoved against the bottom, but felt nothing. Not the hard cement of the public pool or the tile bottom of her grandmother’s.

  She flailed, trying to move her arms, her legs, but they were trapped, her face suddenly pressed into the mud at the bottom of the lake.

  Lake?

  Her eyes flew open, but she saw nothing, knew nothing but terror and deep, throbbing pain. She tried to scream, but she had no air to do it. Something pressed against her face so hard she thought her nose would break.

  She shoved at the weight with her hands. Felt fluffy softness and crisp, cool fabric.

  Pillow.

  She dredged up the word from the depth of her oxygen-starved brain.

  She was being smothered by a pillow.

  Fight!

  She tried to twist away, but couldn’t free herself.

  I’ll be here when you come out.

  Ryder’s words seeped through the fog of her terror.

  When had he said them?

  Where?

  She couldn’t hold on to the memories, wasn’t sure if she’d really heard them—she only knew that she was about to die, and that when she did, she’d lose any chance of ever having all the things she’d once dreamed of.

  Don’t let your failures ruin your possibilities.

  But she had.

  Two strikes, and she’d been out.

  But she didn’t want to stay out.

  She wanted to risk
it all, try for number three and shoot for forever.

  She bucked against the force that held her down, and suddenly, the pillow lifted.

  Darkness gone.

  Light and air drifting in.

  Shelby gasped, pulling deep breaths of antiseptic-scented air into her lungs.

  Something crashed into the side of her bed, jarring her out of the stupor she seemed to be in. Dark shadows wrestled across the floor, panted breaths carrying into the silent room.

  She tried to scream, but her throat was raw and dry, and all that came out was a raspy cough. She coughed again and again, pain shooting up her back and chest and lodging in her neck.

  “Calm down, Shelby Ann. You’re going to pull out all the stitches the doctor spent so much time putting in.” Ryder leaned over her, his eyes blazing, his cheek red and swollen.

  Number three.

  Forever.

  The words whispered through her mind as she reached out to touch his injury, the IV in her hand tugging as she moved.

  “What happened?”

  “You were shot.” He lifted her hand, gently kissed her knuckles.

  “Not to me. To your cheek,” she rasped, and he fingered the bruise.

  “Dr. Peterson decided to pay you a visit. We had a disagreement about whether or not he was going to stay.”

  “He was trying to smother me,” she said, and he nodded, glancing at the prone figure that lay a few feet from the bed.

  “He won’t get a chance to try again.”

  “Is he…?”

  “Dead? No, but he may wish he was when he’s thrown in jail.”

  “Is everything okay in here?” Two security guards raced into the room, Darius and a police officer right behind them.

  “The guy on floor is Dr. Peterson, Detective Jasper. He was trying to smother Shelby when I walked into the room,” Ryder responded, and the officer knelt beside Peterson, patting him down, then turning him over and placing handcuffs on his wrists.

  “I guess we’ve proven our theory, Malone. Peterson really was behind all of this,” he said as he pulled Dr. Peterson to his feet.

  “I’m not behind anything. I was checking on my patient—”

  “She’s not your patient, and I’m not sure how pressing a pillow to her face counts as checking on her.” Ryder rested a hand on Shelby’s shoulder, his touch so light and comforting that her eyes closed, the pain in her chest and back easing as her muscles relaxed.

  “I want a lawyer,” Peterson responded, and Shelby thought about opening her eyes and looking into the face of the man who’d tried to murder her, but she couldn’t manage it.

  “You’ll get a lawyer, Dr. Peterson, and once you have one, you’ll probably be counseled to cooperate and tell us whether it was you or your buddy Wallace who murdered Maureen Lewis.” The detective’s voice was gruff and filled with irritation, but it sounded far away and muted, its urgency lost as Shelby drifted further from the room and the pain, Ryder’s hand all that anchored her to reality.

  “Neither of us killed anyone.”

  “You’re lying,” Ryder growled.

  “I’m not—”

  “You might as well fess up, Doctor. Our K-9 team apprehended Wallace. He’s already down at the station, singing like a canary.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the doctor insisted, and Shelby wanted to listen to the conversation, really listen, but she drifted instead, floating in a place halfway between reality and dreams.

  “Shelby?” Ryder called her back, and she opened her eyes.

  The room had emptied. No doctor. No guards. No police officer. Just Ryder.

  Just the way it should be.

  She smiled, because she didn’t have the energy to speak, and he ran a finger along her cheekbone.

  “You must have hit something when you fell. You’re going to have a bruise.”

  “It’s better than being dead.” She forced the words past her raw throat.

  “True.” He poured water from a plastic pitcher, shoved a straw into a plastic cup and held it for her to sip. “Not too much. The doctor might not approve.”

  “Peterson?” she asked, her mind muddled, her thoughts confused.

  “The guy who spent four hours stitching you up after I nearly let you be killed.”

  “You didn’t. I did. I should have listened and stayed where you told me to.”

  “Why didn’t you?” He brushed hair from her forehead, his touch tender and easy, his eyes dark and knowing.

  “Because my life would be empty without you in it, and I was sure you were about to die. It made me realize something.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “Number three? It’s forever. I wouldn’t want to miss out on that.”

  “Me, neither.” He smiled gently, and Shelby imagined seeing that smile in a year, in five years, in ten. She imagined seeing it when they were both old and gray and sitting in rocking chairs.

  “You’re smiling.” Ryder traced the curve of her lips. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Sunsets and sunrises and front-porch swings. With you.”

  “I like that idea, Shelby Ann,” he responded. “I like it a lot.”

  “So, it’s a date?” she asked, her muscles relaxing into a sleep she couldn’t deny.

  “Not a date, Shelby,” he whispered close to her ear. “Every dream you’ve ever had. Every dream I’ve ever had. All of it finally coming true. Forever.”

  “I like that idea, Hercules,” she said and felt his smile as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

  “Good. Now, stop talking and start resting.”

  She didn’t have the energy to call him bossy, but he was.

  Bossy.

  Wonderful.

  Heroic.

  She saw the truth as she slipped deeper into dreams. Saw it so clearly she didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. Every path she’d walked, every disappointment, every heartache had led to Ryder. It was God’s plan, and it was so much better than hers had been.

  Her eyes drifted closed, and she didn’t fight the darkness that pulled her into sleep. She knew she didn’t need to. Ryder would be waiting when she woke.

  Number three.

  Forever.

  EPILOGUE

  Shelby leaned over the large sheet cake, piping a porch onto the house she’d painstakingly created. A two-story Tudor with a lush green lawn and a white picket fence. Every eave, every window, every fence post had been drawn, painted and shadowed to match her new home.

  It had taken three days and a little more energy than she probably should have expended, but it looked great, and Shelby was pleased with the results.

  “What do you think, Mazy? Pretty nice, huh?”

  The dog barked in response, her shiny black nose pressed to the floor as she searched for crumbs.

  “Exactly what I was thinking. We’re just missing one thing.” Shelby set the white icing bag on the kitchen counter and lifted another one. Brown this time. She piped a hanging swing on the porch.

  Perfect!

  “Shelby Ann Simons, I thought I told you to take a nap!” Dottie bustled into the kitchen, her voice dripping ire, her eyes filled with concern.

  “My guests will be here in a few hours, and I wanted to make sure the cake was ready for the housewarming party.”

  “It’s ready. Go to bed. And you—” she turned her attention to Mazy “—out back for a while.” She scooped up the dog and plopped her on the back deck, surreptitiously slipping her an oversize dog treat in the process.

  “You know the vet said Mazy needs to cut back.”

  “What does she know? That dog weighs less than
my big toe. Now, go to bed. I’m making my famous potato salad for the party, and I don’t want you trying to steal my recipe.”

  “How about I just go sit on the porch swing?” Shelby asked as Dottie shooed her out of the kitchen.

  “I don’t care what you do, girl. Just rest. You’re never going to recover fully if you don’t.”

  “I am fully recovered,” Shelby responded, but they both knew it wasn’t true. A serious staph infection after surgery had kept Shelby in the hospital for over a month. Five weeks later, she still tired easily, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from celebrating her new home. Local contractors had moved heaven and earth to build it quickly, and she’d finally moved in. She loved the new house. Free of bad memories and broken dreams, it was waiting to be filled with wonderful new ones.

  She hummed a little as she walked onto the front porch and sat on the swing, closing her eyes and letting the warm summer air wrap around her.

  “Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” Ryder’s voice flowed over her, and she opened her eyes, watching as he took the porch stairs two at a time.

  “Every day, but I don’t mind if you tell me again.”

  “You’re beautiful. You also look tired. Dottie said you worked seven hours today.”

  “Dottie has a big mouth.”

  “I heard that,” Dottie called through the screen door.

  “The doctor said part-time for another week or two, remember?” Ryder settled on the swing beside her, and she scooted in close, sliding her arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. He smelled of outdoors and sunshine and everything she loved most.

  “I love you so much, Ryder,” she said as he stroked her hair.

  “I love you, too, but you’re not going to distract me. You can’t work seven hours yet. You need more time to recover.”

  “I’m ready to get back to my life. That means pushing myself sometimes.”

  “Push a little, but don’t overdo it, okay?” His hand skimmed over her hair again, slid down her arm and back up, the caress filling her with longing. Ryder was everything she’d been searching for, every dream she’d given up on, and her heart swelled with love for him.