Soldier Bodyguard

He’d had to say terrible things to get her to accept that they were over, that she had no reason to wait for him. Obviously he’d gotten through to her far too well.

“We were not meant to be together,” he said. Then or now. His life as a bodyguard was no less dangerous than his life had been as a Marine. “But that didn’t mean I didn’t want you to be happy.”

He would have preferred that she had waited a little longer though before she’d married someone else and started a family with him. But then he was a hypocrite because the whole reason he’d broken up with her was so she wouldn’t mourn him. Mission accomplished.

She shook her head in denial. Obviously she didn’t believe him. He wasn’t going to argue with her-not while she was in mourning.

“Why are you here, Cole?” she asked.

“My grandfather hired the Payne Protection Agency to protect you.”

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“My boss assigned me to this job.”

She chuckled bitterly. “And what—he would fire you if you refused the assignment?”

“Maybe.” But he doubted it. Cooper probably would have understood if Cole had told the truth, that he was not over her, that he would never be completely over her. But Cole had lied, had claimed that he had no reason to be jealous of her and her dead husband. Why the hell had he lied?

“And what if he had fired you?” she challenged him. “You could start your own damn security firm. Or you could never work another day in your life like the rest of your family.”

While they were all employed at his grandfather’s billion-dollar business, it was a joke. None of them actually did any real work.

And that was why Cole worked. He didn’t want to be like the rest of his family. She knew that because she’d once known him better than anyone else ever had. Or so he’d thought.

Maybe she’d married another man because she had known how much it would hurt him. And she’d wanted to hurt him like he had hurt her.

“My family is the Payne Protection Agency,” he said. “I served with them.” On the battlefield and on the bodyguard frontlines. He wasn’t talking just about his former unit but about Nikki and the rest of the Payne family who’d embraced him and his friends like their own.

“So that’s why you didn’t say no?” she asked. “Because you couldn’t let them down?”

He heard the bitterness and resentment in her voice. Did she still hate him for breaking up with her? Even after all these years, even after she’d found happiness with another man? Of course that happiness was over now.

Emery Little was dead.

And Cole needed to find out why. Had the killer really intended Shawna as the target? If so, she was in serious danger. “You need a bodyguard,” he pointed out. “Even your daughter is worried about you.”

“I’m okay with having a bodyguard,” she said. “To make Maisy feel more secure. But I don’t want that bodyguard to be you.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“You know why,” she said.

But he shook his head. “You got married. You had a kid. You moved on.”

“But I never got over...”

His heart flipped in his chest. Had she never gotten over him—just as he had never really gotten over her?

“...what you said,” she finished. “When you broke up with me, you told me that you couldn’t play hero anymore to my damsel in distress. That there were people in real danger who needed you.”

He barely remembered what he’d told her then. He’d just needed to make her mad enough to agree to the breakup. Again, mission accomplished.

“You told me that I had to grow up and finally learn to take care of myself for once.” Her face was flushed now and her eyes were bright with anger.

Cole’s own temper flared now. “And instead of listening to me, you married some other guy within weeks of our breakup, so that he could take care of you!”

“You son of a bitch!” she cursed him.

He’d been called that before—by his own father. Coleman hadn’t been insulting him, though. He’d been insulting his wife. Cole’s parents had hated each other that much. That was another reason Cole never should have proposed to Shawna. He had no idea how to have a successful marriage. His parents’ had been a disaster. And none of his grandfather’s three marriages had lasted. His uncles had certainly not set good examples for him either.

He didn’t argue with Shawna’s assessment of him. He couldn’t.

She turned and ran toward the doors—that at some point somebody must have closed. She fumbled with them before cursing again and sliding them open just wide enough for her to slip out into the hall.

Cole shouldn’t have said what he had—six years ago or now.

Especially not now.

She had just lost her husband in what had probably been an attempt on her life. Her life was in danger. Remembering that no matter what she said he was supposed to be protecting her, he rushed toward the doors. He pushed them open the rest of the way and stumbled out into the hall.

But she was gone.

Where had she gone?

Shawna dragged in a deep breath as she stepped outside. The sweet, acrid scent of cigars filled her lungs, making her cough and sputter. She found the butt of a cigar, the tip still glowing, lying beside the steps leading out the back door of the garage.

So this was where Xavier came to smoke. Of course if she confronted him, the old codger would probably blame the chauffeur. And Astin, being as loyal as he was, would willingly cover for him.

Xavier charmed everyone—even her—into doing what he wanted. That was why Cole was here. It wasn’t because he cared about her; he’d made his opinion of her abundantly clear six years ago and again just now in the library.

She wasn’t the helpless female he had accused her of being, though. She hadn’t married Emery to protect her. She’d married Emery to protect Maisy. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know her child was a Bentler, hadn’t wanted to subject a baby to the resentment and anger Cole had endured.

And because she wanted to protect Maisy, Shawna would agree to have a bodyguard. Anyone but Cole, though. Her superhero when they were kids. And as a Marine, decorated for his heroism, he had also been a superhero. Why had he changed with her?

Why had he become as cruel as the people from whom he’d once protected her when they were kids? What had she done to him?

Sure, she’d married Emery, but that had been only after he’d broken their engagement and her heart. She never would have stopped loving him, if he hadn’t stopped loving her first.

He still affected her. Even after all these years—even after how much he’d hurt her, he still affected her physically. Emotionally. Passionately.

She wanted to feel nothing. She wanted to be numb—like she had been when she’d gone into shock after the explosion, after she’d realized what had happened to Emery.

Poor Emery.

She blinked back tears. She needed to get back inside, back to mourning her husband and best friend. But she didn’t want to see Cole again. She doubted he had left despite being told she didn’t want him as her bodyguard. But it wouldn’t matter even if he had left. She would still see him—as she saw him all the time—in her mind.

Sometimes he was the boy who’d rescued her and protected her. Sometimes he was the man who’d taught her about love and passion. And sometimes he was the monster who’d broken her heart.

She tensed as she thought of him, but it wasn’t with just anger. She realized that in her haste to get away from him she had stepped outside alone. If she was in real danger, that wasn’t the smartest idea.

And while she would rather not believe that bomb had been meant for her, it had been in her car. Not Emery’s...

She shivered now as a cold chill raised goose bumps along her skin. Her black dress had long sleeves, but it was lightweight material. She needed a sweater. Hell, she needed to be back inside—with people.

With Maisy...

Pushing open the service door, she stepped back into the garage. The lights that had been on moments ago were off. Had she accidentally flipped them off as she’d walked out? But when she touched the switches, she found them facing up already. Turning them the other way didn’t do anything.

Had the power gone out?

There was no storm raging outside. That was only inside her—in her head and in her heart—from having to deal with Cole and her grief. She couldn’t even hear the wind blowing outside. But she could hear something else...

The garage had several stalls, and Xavier had a car in each. It sounded as if the engines of several of them were running now. Why?

Distracted, she stumbled against the rear bumper of one of the vehicles and struck her knee. Pain radiated up her leg, and a cry slipped through her lips. It was so dark without the lights.

She could barely remember which direction led to the house. The garage was attached to the French provincial mansion. That was why she’d rushed into it—because it had been close. She probably should have gone outside instead, like onto the expansive back patio or the wide front porch or the balcony on the second story.

But as desperate as she’d been for air, she hadn’t wanted to see anyone else. Or more important, she hadn’t wanted anyone else to see her.

To see how upset she was...

She’d had enough sympathy she didn’t deserve. Being married to her had cost Emery his life. The bomb must have been meant for her—since it had been in her vehicle.

But why would anyone want her dead?

What had she done? Not that everyone liked her. Her family hadn’t. And most of Cole’s family didn’t like her either. Not only did they suspect that Maisy might be another Bentler heir but they also did not like her close relationship with Xavier. All of Cole’s cousins were as mean to her as her own had been. And she’d left her child alone in that house.

She needed to get back to Maisy and to Xavier.

As Shawna hurried past another car, she realized it was running, too, as was the one next to that, and the next one.

Fumes began to fill the garage. Exhaust. Carbon monoxide.

Why were the vehicles running?

Her eyes began to tear, and she coughed and sputtered for breath. Uncertain where the door to the house was, she turned back toward the outside door. She continued to cough as she rushed to it. Her hands trembling, she grabbed the knob.

But it didn’t turn. She tugged and pulled at it. But it didn’t budge. Someone had locked the door—or blocked it—from the outside. She was trapped. Someone had trapped her inside a garage that was quickly filling with carbon monoxide. Someone definitely wanted her dead.

She could not die. She couldn’t leave her child an orphan. But then Maisy wouldn’t really be an orphan. She had a father still. Would Cole even want her?

Would he ever forgive Shawna for keeping her from him all these years? At the moment, his forgiveness was the last thing she needed to think about. Survival was paramount.

She was not the helpless damsel in distress Cole had once accused her of being. She was going to fight like hell to get out of here.

She was going to fight for Maisy...

I cannot live with what I’ve done. I am the one who planted the bomb that killed my husband. I wanted out of my marriage. Now I want out of my life.

Using the eraser of a pencil, the killer tapped out the message on the keys of Shawna Rolfe-Little’s laptop keyboard. It would have to suffice. There was no way to print out the paper and have it signed—even if Shawna could have been coerced to sign it.

It was probably too late for that. Shawna might already be dead. She should already be dead.

If only Emery hadn’t been the one to start her car...

It would have already been over, but then Little would still be alive. The killer stared at the urn on the table in the library and felt no regret over his death. It wasn’t as if Emery Little had been an innocent man. He’d been causing problems as well, problems that had pushed up the killer’s timetable.

The plan had been to send Emery Little to prison, not the grave. Little was supposed to have been held responsible for Shawna’s murder.

Plans could be adjusted, though. Now Shawna would be held responsible for Little’s death and for her own. And Cole and his damn friends could return to wherever the hell they’d come from.

Cole turning up at the funeral had been a surprise. An unpleasant surprise.

But once Shawna was dead, he would have no reason to stay. She had to be dead.

Chapter 4

Where the hell is she?

Cole hadn’t searched the entire house for her. The old mansion was too big for him to have investigated every nook and cranny. He had hit the main rooms first—the living room and dining room and parlors where the other mourners and unfortunately some of his scowling family members were hanging out. But he’d caught no sight of Shawna nor had any of his fellow bodyguards reported having seen her. They were all searching for her now, too.

Unsuccessfully.

How the hell had she just disappeared?

Cole retraced his steps to the library where he’d lost her. The pocket doors were open again, so more people—some of Cole’s contemptuous cousins and his mom and his stepdad—had gone inside to pay their last respects to the urn of Emery Little’s ashes.

He sucked in a breath at the sight of his mother. Tall and blonde and slender, Tiffani still looked like the pageant queen that she’d once been, the one who’d turned his father’s head while working as an intern in his company. She didn’t look old enough to be Cole’s mother, but then she’d rarely acted like it.

She’d taken more to Shawna than she ever had him. They even used to work with the cheerleaders at the high school. He wondered if they still did that, but he didn’t care enough to ask; that would have required approaching his mother. Since his father had died, they struggled to have any conversation at all, let alone a civil one.

His cousins—the female twins—Lori and Tori scowled at him. They tried to look like his mom by bleaching their hair and using colored contacts. They looked like caricatures of her instead. Then there were his male cousins, Bobby and Reggie, who were a little older than he was but still dressed and acted like frat boys, even at a funeral. They completely ignored him the way they’d done since they were all kids.

Jeffrey Inman, his stepfather, was the only one who paid him any attention. He waved at him and smiled. He seemed to be a nice man, and was also a former vet, retired now from the Army. But instead of heading toward him, Cole backed away from the open pocket doors.

Manny was in the library, too. Although the dark-haired bodyguard didn’t know anyone beyond the descriptions of them that Cole had shared over the years, he was carrying on a couple of conversations. The bleached-blonde twins had latched onto him as if they had a chance with a man who was dating a supermodel. But Manny was friendly. He could talk to anyone or no one at all. As his roommate, Cole often heard the other man talking in his sleep.

At least he could sleep.

Cole struggled with that, with shutting off his mind enough to rest. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw things he spent his waking hours trying to forget. And it wasn’t just the things that had happened during their missions.

He saw Shawna, too.

He saw way too much of Shawna when he closed his eyes. But when he opened his eyes, she was never there, never lying in bed next to him like he wanted her. Naked. Flushed with passion. Or smiling and affectionate. She was gone—just like she was now.

He realized that while he’d been searching for her, he hadn’t seen her daughter either. They were probably together. Hadn’t she sent Maisy off to check on his grandfather?

He backed out of the library and headed down the hallway toward the kitchen. The main meal had been set out as a buffet in the enormous dining room, but Cole had already been there and, as well as Shawna and Maisy, he hadn’t seen Xavier either. Of course it would have been more difficult for the old man to sneak treats off the buffet. The excess bakery goods had been left sitting out in the kitchen, and his grandfather’s sweet tooth was legendary.

But when Cole stepped into the kitchen, he found it empty, as well. The cook and servers must have been in the dining room, restocking the buffet. Some of the cookies were gone, but for one that Cole crunched under his foot against the tile floor. He glanced down and noticed a few more had fallen onto the tiles near the long island that ran between the rows of cabinets on each wall. As he leaned down to pick them up, he noticed little feet sticking out between two bar stools pulled up beneath the granite counter.

He dropped to his haunches and met the blue-eyed gaze of the little girl who sat with her back against the cabinets and her knobby knees pulled up nearly to her chin. Cookie crumbs clung to her lips and liberally peppered her black tights. Although it was obvious, he asked, “Whatcha doing?”

Tears welled in her eyes. She squeezed her lids shut, but some of those tears slipped through her thick black lashes. Cole gasped as he felt that sensation he used to feel when Shawna cried, like someone was squeezing his heart in a tight fist. Needing to comfort her—and maybe himself as well—he scooped her out from beneath the counter and into his arms. Maisy’s eyes opened and she stared up at him through her tears.

“Are you okay?” he asked, then grimaced at his insensitivity. Of course she wasn’t okay. She’d lost her father. He had to make sure she didn’t lose her mother, too.

But everyone was searching for Shawna. Someone would find her soon—probably more easily than he would since he was the one from whom she’d run away.

“That was a stupid thing to ask you, huh?” he remarked.

She blinked again, but no more tears fell. “Why?” she asked.

“Because I know what’s wrong,” he said. And it wasn’t just the fact that she had probably eaten too many cookies. “My dad died, too.”

She lifted her hand to his cheek like she had in the library. But now she was offering him comfort. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s what everyone keeps saying to me...like it’s their fault.” Her blue eyes widened with fear. “Is it?”

It was somebody’s fault, unless Emery Little had set that bomb himself. And Cole doubted that. The man had had everything to live for. He’d had a great job with students who adored him. And he had a wonderful little girl. And he’d had Shawna.

Where the hell was Shawna?

A chill chased down his spine as he thought of her and of what Maisy had just said. Had her father’s killer apologized to her? Was he or she somebody in this very house?

“I don’t know whose fault it is,” he answered honestly. “But I will find out.” Damn. He’d just made another promise, but for some reason he felt compelled to take care of her, just like he’d felt compelled to take care of Shawna when they’d first met so many years ago.

“Do you know who killed your daddy?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nobody killed him.” Except himself. “It was an accident.”

His father had been so driven, so determined to get as much out of life as possible that he’d lived it on the edge. It shouldn’t have been so surprising that he had eventually fallen off. Literally. He’d lost control of his sports car on a sharp turn and had fallen off a cliff. There hadn’t been much more of him left than there had been of Emery Little.

“My dad died several years ago,” he told her. “It gets easier.”

“Easier?” she parroted, her little brow puckered with confusion.

It probably hadn’t been the right word to use.

“Better.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just gradually hurts less.”

She released a little breath. “That’s good. Will Mommy hurt less, too?”

That tight fist squeezed his heart again. He hated to think of Shawna in pain, especially and selfishly, over another man. “Yeah, eventually.”

The little girl’s wide eyes narrowed as she studied his face. Did she see his jealousy? She was much too astute. How could she be barely five years old?

“She’ll be okay,” he assured the little girl.

“But aren’t you supposed to be bodyguarding her?” Maisy asked.

“Well...” That was damn hard to do when you couldn’t find the body you were supposed to be guarding.

“You promised,” she reminded him.

“Yes, I did,” he said. But he wasn’t certain if that was a promise that Shawna would make it possible for him to keep. “But I don’t know where she’s gone.”

“I know,” she said.

But before she could tell him, Manny burst into the kitchen, a laptop tightly clenched in his hands. “There you are!” he exclaimed. “You’ve got to see this.” Then he noticed the little girl in Cole’s arms and his face flushed. “But she shouldn’t—if she can read.”

“What? What is it?” Maisy asked.

But Cole put her down on the floor and held the laptop above her head, just in case she could read already. He shook his head at the supposed suicide note where Shawna admitted her guilt. “No...”

It wasn’t possible.

If Shawna was capable of killing anyone, it would have been him when he’d broken their engagement six years ago. She had been furious with him then. More furious than he had ever seen her...even more than when she’d stormed out on him a short time ago.

“What is it?” Maisy asked again as she tugged on his arm.

“Nothing,” Cole said. Then he remembered. “You said you know where your mother went—tell me!”

At the urgency in his voice, the color drained from the little girl’s already pale face, and her bottom lip quivered as if she was about to cry. That was the last thing Cole had wanted to cause. He wanted to make sure she didn’t have any reason to cry, ever again.

He dropped to his knees beside her. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can tell me where your mother is. Remember—I’m supposed to be bodyguarding her.”

He could only hope that when he found Shawna, it wasn’t too late to save her. Why would the killer have written a suicide note to frame her, unless that killer was damn certain that she was already dead?

Panic pressed on Shawna’s lungs, which already burned from the carbon monoxide filling the garage. Thankfully the building was big, with a tall ceiling, or she might have died already.

Eyes streaming from the toxic fumes, she blinked furiously as she searched through the darkness and smoke for the control panel that opened the overhead doors from the inside. She found it near the service door to the house—the one that, just like the back door, would not open. It had been locked somehow from the outside.

Her fingers shaking, she pressed the buttons for all the overhead doors but none of them budged. And of course the lights were off. Someone must have cut the power to the garage.

There was no way out without knocking down a door. And she just wasn’t strong enough. Cole’s voice echoed inside her head, taunting her like her cousins used to taunt her. Damsel in distress. Damsel in distress.

No. It wasn’t that she wasn’t strong enough to break down a door. She wasn’t big enough. She was stronger than Cole knew, stronger for which he’d given her credit. And while she couldn’t bust her way out of the garage physically, she could do it mentally.

Couldn’t she?

Her vision began to blur and not just from the smoke and the darkness. Her lungs burning, she was beginning to lose consciousness. She couldn’t do that or she would lose it all.

Her life. Maisy...

Thinking of her sweet little girl renewed her strength. She stumbled through the smoke toward one of those cars and pulled at the driver’s door. It was locked with the damn keys in the ignition.

She stumbled into another bay, toward another door, but it was locked, as well. How had someone managed to start all the vehicles without Astin knowing?