Brotherhood Protectors: Falling for Her Bodyguard (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Christine Glover

  Kerry Ann’s lips thinned ever so slightly. “There’s no need,” she said after an infinitesimal beat of silence.

  “I know, but I want to.” Her friend had never wanted for money, but it gave Delaney pleasure to be the one treating instead of accepting.

  “Okay. Sounds good, but the next latte is on me.” Kerry Ann turned on her spiked heels, made her way to the diner’s entrance and stepped outside.

  The blast of cool air following in her friend’s wake obliterated the fire burning through Delaney’s veins. She stared at her half-eaten breakfast, then sighed. “I think it’s time to head out,” she said. No point in staying longer than it took Kerry Ann to get rid of the press. “How about we catch up after things settle down, Allie? Maybe meet up at White Oak Ranch or the Blue Moose Tavern?

  “Sure thing,” Allie said, then she and Swede scooted out of the booth. “We’ve got errands to run in Bozeman anyway.”

  “Sounds good. And let me pick up your breakfasts too.”

  “Thanks,” Allie said, holding Delaney’s gaze. “It’s going to be all right. Ethan won’t let anything happen to you. Hank only hires the best.”

  “I know I’m in good hands.” Once again, the image of those big hands sliding over her body popped into her brain and heat flared low in her belly. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Absolutely.”

  As Allie and Swede walked away, Delaney gestured to the waitress to come over, giving the teenager her credit card without even looking at the bill. She desperately needed some time to regroup. Oh, how she longed for a moment not to be on. Mostly, she needed about five, maybe ten minutes to hide where she didn’t have to pretend she wasn’t upset, scared, and freaked about whoever was out there trying to ruin her life.

  “I’d like to freshen up before we leave,” she said after signing the bill and leaving a generous tip.

  “You’re not going to the bathroom alone.”

  Her pulse ramped up. Was danger lurking everywhere? Even here? Yes. Her circle of trusted friends and colleagues had grown smaller during the last twenty-four hours, but she wanted to—needed to—believe Al’s was still a safe haven. “I used to work here. I doubt anyone in this diner wants to harm me.” She looked all around, caught sight of Kerry Ann going toe-to-toe with the reporter. “Besides, it looks like Kerry Ann needs help out there. If anyone can scare the press off, you can.”

  He cocked his head to the side and studied her with narrowed eyes. “Not a good idea.”

  “Neither is going out there and tackling the press again,” she said softly. “If Laurence is behind what happened yesterday, then he’ll get exactly what he wants. That might encourage him to do something else.” She clenched her thighs together, pretending a real need to go to the restroom in the hope of swaying him.

  He raked his brown eyes over her, coolly assessing her. “Good point,” he said after several beats of silence. “Take care of your business, but stay put until I get rid of those bozos.”

  “Thanks.”

  He pushed away from the booth and she allowed herself a teeny glance at his very sexy chiseled butt. Oh. He was a fine specimen of a man, but strictly off-limits. She needed his skills as a protector, not a lover. Period. Still, the fantasy made it a little easier to deal with her current reality.

  Delaney hurried toward the dimly lit hallway—would Al ever fix that damn light?—and into the small women’s bathroom. One stall was in use, but the other two were free. She pushed open the first door and stepped inside, then slid the lock into place. Plunking down on the seat, she waited until the feet showing in the other stall moved and the toilet flushed. She took shallow breaths while listening to the water run briefly, and then heard the sounds of the paper towel dispenser. The outer door creaked and finally . . . oh finally . . . she had the entire room to herself.

  She didn’t need to pee, but she did want to take a breath. And check her cell phone without anybody watching over her shoulder. Just as she suspected, the press was all over her accident. Then she read a text from her contractor relaying another delay in her Los Angeles home’s renovation. She consoled herself with the thought that it would be a lot harder to protect her in LA than here.

  Or would it? The thought sent a shiver up her spine.

  Hopefully, the Brotherhood Protectors working in tandem with the local law enforcement would find the stalker soon. But until then, she’d rely on Ethan to prevent the bastard from getting to her.

  The bathroom lights flickered, then everything went dark. Icy fingers crept along her spine, and everything inside her went cold. Stop. Just stop freaking yourself out. Most likely Al needed to replace the bulbs. He always was a skinflint when it came to maintenance. But still, the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention, and goose bumps prickled all over her skin.

  She had to get out of here. Something wasn’t right. Quickly, she switched her flashlight function in her cell phone on, then stood on shaking legs. Her heart pounded against her sternum as if trying to explode out of her chest. She heard the shuffle of feet across the laminate floor, the rasping of breath. The stale scent of smoke and sweat wafted into her booth.

  Bile bubbled in her throat. She had nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. And she’d foolishly sent Ethan away. Every muscle in her body slackened. The sound of metal against metal shot through her ears and she locked her eyes onto the door’s latch which was moving, a knife tip nudging it open millimeter by millimeter.

  She bit back the instinct to scream and texted Ethan one short word with trembling hands.

  Help

  Chapter 3

  “I don’t have to leave,” the reporter said. “It’s a constitutional thing.”

  Fuck. Ethan didn’t like her stance, but he’d dodged bullets in Afghanistan and gotten his goddamn hip shot to hell to protect her right to be a pain in the ass. “Look, Ms. Lawson’s had a tough day. How about you cut her some slack and …” His cell phone beeped and he jerked it from his pocket.

  Adrenaline spiked along his nerves when he read the text. He didn’t think. Just ran across the street, barely avoiding getting hit by a monster truck, and then into Al’s Diner with his gun locked and loaded. “Call the sheriff,” he yelled, dodging the chairs and people standing in the aisles.

  Ethan rushed toward the hallway leading to the bathroom only to see a person in a ball cap, baggy pants, and blue hoodie scurrying toward the back—and Delaney was nowhere in sight. He didn’t dare fire a shot, not wanting to put anyone in the diner at risk. His number one priority was getting to her.

  His leg and hip blazed with pain. Agony lanced through his muscles, but he didn’t give a damn. He’d counted on his body to function on all cylinders when he’d accepted this job despite his physical therapist’s warnings.

  He’d been wrong.

  And he’d fucked up. He should never have let Delaney haul off to the restroom alone.

  The sound of a door banging echoed in his ears as he barreled into the bathroom. The smell of blood tanged the air. His gaze locked onto the red streaks smearing the linoleum floor by an open stall where Delaney lay crumpled on the ground. He bolted to her side, dropped to his knees, and with a calm born out of his years in the military, he checked her vital signs.

  She moaned and lifted her head when he gently pressed his fingers against her wrist. “Ethan. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you.”

  Her forehead had a nasty gash and a bruise colored the goose egg forming on it, but the blood flow had slowed. More adrenaline zinged through his veins, and his vision clouded for a moment.

  She could have been killed.

  “Easy now. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He’d been the idiot who’d let her go off alone. “I’m here.” And he’d stick to her like glue until the stalker was in custody.

  “I thought . . . I hoped . . .” her voice wavered, “that I’d be safe here. But . . .”

  “Safety is an illusion no matter where you live or who you are.” He held her gaze and cont
inued checking her body for other injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  “No. Just this.” She touched her forehead. “He slammed the stall door into my face, then he tried to cut me with a knife. But I kicked him in the balls and that slowed him down.”

  He helped her stand and scooped her into his arms. “Did you see his face?” he asked, carrying her to the row of sinks.

  “No.” She shook her head. “The baseball cap was too low and I was too busy trying to get away from him. He took off as soon as he heard you call for the sheriff.”

  “You did the right thing—texting me without drawing attention to yourself. That took guts.”

  “I was scared to death.”

  “I know. But he’s gone. And he’ll get caught.” He freed one hand and snagged a ream of paper towels from the dispenser. She shifted to stand, but he stopped her. “Hang tight. I’ve got you.”

  She winced as he dabbed her forehead. “Hurts. Bad.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll get you patched up and good as new before you know it.” Damn it. She’d been assaulted. On his watch. He’d accepted this job thinking it would be a cakewalk compared to the hell he’d lived through in Afghanistan.

  He’d been an arrogant fucking ass.

  “Good as new,” she whispered. “I remember my mom saying that to me that every time we shopped at the thrift shop on Main Street.”

  Something twisted deep inside his gut. This woman wasn’t at all who he expected when he’d accepted this position. “You’ll be better than new by the time this bump heals up.”

  She sighed. “I really don’t want to deal with that reporter again. Not to mention giving the press another story. God. What if my agent is behind this nightmare?”

  “The Brotherhood Protectors will find out if Laurence orchestrated it. Right now, I’ve got to get you to Bozeman’s hospital to get this stitched up.” He pressed a square of folded paper towel against her forehead. “Keep this on until we get there.”

  “What about the reporter?”

  “I won’t let her get within an inch of you. In fact,” he said, lowering her to the ground, “I bet the sheriff might want to bring her in for questioning.”

  “But why?”

  “Who knows? Maybe she set the whole thing up to get a better byline.” He brought out his cell phone and called the man, relayed the latest information, and then said, “The sheriff’s already on the scene, a deputy is taking the reporter and her photographer in. We’ll leave as soon as I get the all clear from them.”

  “She’ll still know I was attacked.”

  “Sweetheart, everyone in this diner knows you were attacked.”

  She sagged against the sink. “You’re right. I’ll have Kerry Ann put out an official statement about this situation.”

  “Have her tell the press that you’re in bad shape,” he said.

  “Why? I don’t want my fans to worry. Or my parents.”

  “Your fans will only love you more when the truth comes out,” he said. “You can contact your parents to set their minds at ease as soon as we hit the road.”

  “I just hate to lie, but after what just happened I trust your instincts.”

  He caught her gaze in the mirror’s reflection. “Good. I want this jerk to believe he put you out of commission,” he said. “That’ll give the authorities time to find him and bring him into custody.” But if the bastard got close to her again, Ethan wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him.

  “That should do it,” the plastic surgeon said after he finished stitching Delaney’s forehead. “There’ll be some soreness, but once the swelling subsides and the stitches are removed, you won’t even know you got slammed in the face.”

  “I’m just glad I didn’t get a concussion,” she said. “And that my next movie doesn’t start shooting until next month.”

  “You still have to take it easy.” The doctor looked at Ethan and said, “Check on her every hour tonight. Make sure she takes all her medication. It’s best to stay ahead of the pain, Ms. Lawson. Otherwise, you’re in for a brutal headache. Call my private line if you notice anything unusual.” He pulled a card out of his white coat pocket and gave it to Ethan.

  A nurse’s aide popped her head into the door. “Sheriff Wilson’s here.”

  “Send him in,” Delaney said, eager to get the conversation over with so she could finally go home.

  “Sure thing.”

  Within minutes Sheriff Wilson stepped inside the room and went straight to business, pulling out his notepad. “Can you tell me anything about your attacker? Height? Weight? Coloring?”

  She shook her head. “It all happened so fast,” she said, searching her memory for anything, even something small, that would lead them to her stalker. “He reached for me and . . . Wait. He had on brown gloves. Like the kind people wear when they’re doing yard work. His hands were big.”

  “Caucasian?”

  “Yes. I saw a bit of his skin when he tried to grab me. Light hair—he had blond hairs on his wrist.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I just kicked and screamed, but he wouldn’t stop trying to cut me until . . . until Ethan arrived.” If it had been any longer, she might have been killed.

  Sheriff Wilson continued writing while turning his attention to Ethan. “You got anything else to add?”

  “Guy was five-ten, maybe eleven. Shorter than me. Fast. Average build. Battered white sneakers, the red and white ball cap had yellow sweat stains on the edges.”

  She snapped her gaze at him. “You saw all that? How?”

  “Years of practice and training.”

  “Hank told me you’re a former Special Forces sniper, correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sheriff Wilson paused in his writing to give Ethan a once over. “I assume you can’t go back otherwise you’d be overseas right now.”

  “You assume right,” Ethan said. “Medical discharge.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Just glad I don’t have a desk job,” Ethan said. “You need anything else from us before you go?”

  “No. I’ll keep you posted about the investigation.” He pocketed his notepad and moved over to Delaney. “You do everything this young man tells you to do. No questions if there’s a situation. It’s the only way I’ll feel good about letting you go home.” He gave her an awkward half-hug. “Your folks know about what’s been going on?”

  “They’re cruising the rivers in Europe, but I email them regularly. They’re worried, but I told them not to cut their vacation short. I’ve got protection. That’s all that matters.”

  “When are they heading back to the States?”

  “After Eagle Rock’s Halloween festival.” Delaney hugged her waist a little harder. “Do you think they could be in danger when they come home?”

  “If we don’t have the stalker in custody, anything is possible.”

  She exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Please find him.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s all I can ask.”

  “I’ll touch base with Hank on my way back to Eagle Rock. We’ll coordinate our efforts,” the Sheriff said before exiting the room.

  Moments later, a nurse stepped inside, went over the discharge papers with Delaney, then left her alone with Ethan. The air between them seemed to crackle, and a zip of awareness danced along her nerves. He tugged his shirt at the collar, cleared his throat. “Let’s get you home,” he said, holding out his hand to help her get down from the gurney.

  She took it without hesitation. Electricity sparked through her skin and charged into every erogenous zone she possessed. She didn’t want to let go, wanting more than the reassurance of his touch. But he released her as soon as her feet hit the ground.

  “I sincerely hope the press doesn’t know how to find me when we leave.”

  “We’ll go out the same way we came in and hope for the best,” he said when they exited the room.

  They made their way to
backdoor entrance used primarily by the hospital’s staff via a little-known passage. After they stepped outside, she asked, “Do you think Sheriff Wilson will catch my stalker before my parents return?”

  “Nothing in life is guaranteed, but the guy’s getting careless.” Ethan guided her to the SUV, his large hand on the small of her back. “Only a matter of time before he really fucks up.”

  Her skin heated beneath his touch, and a slow burn lit low in her belly. He’d do anything to ensure her safety. And, after he’d picked her up off the bathroom floor, she’d revealed a piece of herself to him during an unguarded moment. Something she’d never shared with anyone—not even her closest friends—the embarrassment of being a thrift shop bargain girl and how the subtle jabs about her clothing had cut deep.

  She trusted him. He didn’t fawn over her, but she didn’t need fawning. She needed strong and sure.

  Ethan was all that and more.

  As they drove back to Eagle Rock, the last remaining rays of sunlight filtered through the mountain valleys and reflected off the granite peaks. The shadows of light and dark reminded her of Ethan.

  They were at once stark and beautiful; imposing and inviting.

  By the time they arrived at her home, she’d barely been able to keep her eyes open, but Ethan had kept her awake with stories about his tours of duty while he’d served overseas. He’d been funny—telling anecdotes about the day-to-day antics of his unit. Not once did he reveal the ugly side of his experiences, or the dangers he’d encountered while in the Marines.

  “Do you miss being a sniper?” she asked after he’d made sure her house was secure.

  “I miss the camaraderie. My friends. The purpose,” he said as they entered her kitchen.

  She withdrew a sparkling water from her stainless-steel fridge. “Cola for you, I suppose?”

  “Yes. It’s going to be a long night.” He paused, then withdrew his cell phone and read the screen. “Damn.”

  Her heart raced in her chest. “What is it? What’s wrong?” God, what else could the creep do to her?

  Ethan scraped his fingers through his short-cropped hair. “John Pace escaped from his county jail litter clean-up squad a week ago.”