Bodyguard Reunion. Margaret Daley

and alert. The Zimmermans had only reluctantly agreed to protection, not totally convinced there was a threat against them. They’d always had dissenters and had even received hate mail. A particular nasty letter had arrived at their first stop in Longview, Texas, and might be tied to the incident in Paris.

      Chloe had wanted to sneak the couple into the church through a back way, but the Zimmermans didn’t want to go that far. They wanted to be accessible to the people who had come to hear them speak. She’d tried to convince the pair of the potential danger, and to her surprise, T.J. had agreed with her.

      Their parting in the past had been intense, filled with anger and hurt. He’d wanted to continue with a long-distance relationship. She’d seen too many of those fail—like her parents’ marriage with her dad in the navy and gone a good part of the year.

      As she did a final check of the huge crowd before exiting the limousine, her gaze collided briefly with T.J.’s. Not one emotion showed on his face, creating what she had come to think of as his professional facade. Cold. Determined. At one time she’d known a side to him apart from work. His laughter and smiles had always fulfilled a need in her for more of that in her life. There had been little of that growing up with a mother who hadn’t been happy her husband was gone so much.

      Chloe had even begun to picture what it would be like married to him—the children they would have. She’d wanted a family since she’d worked as a teenager in the church nursery each Sunday. She’d fallen in love with caring for children. No, she wasn’t going to think about what could have been with T.J. if circumstances had been different.

      She quickly focused on Mary Zimmerman, who had insisted on being addressed by her first name. “We need to escort you inside as fast as we can. Keep moving. I’ll be right behind you.”

      Dressed in a powder-blue suit with a pencil skirt, Mary uncrossed her legs, her forehead crinkling. “But these people are out here because they want to hear us speak. The seating inside has been sold-out for weeks. I can’t ignore them when they took the time to come here.”

      “Someone in that crowd might want to harm you and your husband.” T.J. slid closer to the door and gripped the handle. “Stink bombs may seem like a prank, but two people were hurt seriously enough to go to the hospital. Thankfully you all took care of those hurt, but if your husband hadn’t gotten to you when he did, you might have needed to be hospitalized, too.”

      “But what if that was kids in Paris and our publisher overreacted? I know that sort of thing happened at my high school several times when I was a teenager.” Paul Zimmerman took his wife’s hand.

      T.J. looked from Mary to Paul. “How about the threatening letter delivered to your hotel in Longview? Another teenage prank?”

      Chloe swiveled her attention to T.J. He plowed his fingers through his thick, wavy black hair—one of the few habits she’d noticed before that indicated he was worried about something.

      T.J. continued, “It described in detail what he wanted to do with you two, beginning with torture. That doesn’t sound like a teenager. I’ve read some of your hate mail, and that one had a different feel to it.”

      He’d read some of the Zimmermans’ hate mail? When? How had he gotten it? She’d been assigned this case only hours ago. Other than being apprised of what had happened in Longview and Paris, she had nothing else to go on. Not even the hate letter they’d received in Longview. Time had been limited when she had met with Kyra this morning.

      The thought that T.J. knew more than she did irritated her, but mostly she felt she didn’t have all the information to do the best job possible because this job had come up so suddenly. When this event was over, she would have a few choice words with the man. Just because he’d been the team leader on the one case they had worked on together didn’t mean that was the situation now. The only way she could do this job was to be totally professional and an equal partner.

      Paul frowned. “This is curtailing our mission to reach the masses as personally as we can, and that certainly isn’t from behind bodyguards and police lines. They need to see we aren’t afraid to fight for what is right.”

      “Honey, maybe that’s the point of the threats. To keep us from connecting with the people.” Even in the midst of a tense situation, a smile graced Mary’s lips. “The Lord is our protection, but our publisher will cancel this tour if we don’t agree to—” she waved her hand toward Chloe and T.J. “—them being our bodyguards. I think spreading our message is too important to cancel the tour.”

      A long sigh escaped Paul’s lips. “Fine, but I’m having a talk with the publishing house after this is over with. Let’s go.”

      Chloe studied T.J.’s reaction to the declaration, and not one emotion crossed his face. She’d worked with him and knew that expression, but she’d also seen its opposite. When he’d been waiting for a chance to protect someone on the level of the vice president and finally got his promotion, she wouldn’t move to Washington to be with him. Anger, hurt and disappointment had swirled between them that day.

      She’d had her reasons. He’d had his. They’d parted. After a few calls from T.J. trying to persuade her to come to Washington, she’d never heard from him again until this morning when Kyra had introduced her to her partner in this assignment.

      Before he could catch her staring at him, Chloe busied herself with opening the door and exiting the limo. The wind whipped through her, its cold sting biting. She surveyed the crowd, looking for any potential threats. Too many people pressed together. Too many possibilities.

      Cheers rose from the spectators, the din assailing Chloe’s ears as the crowd closed in around the Zimmermans, who started toward the entrance. This beloved couple’s message touched many people. Chloe herself was a fan of their grassroots movement to take back the family and this country. They were full of integrity, compassionate and straightforward in what was important. Who wouldn’t believe in their ideas?

      But someone out there wasn’t a fan. And she knew firsthand how hate could fester, exploding outward to include everyone. She’d seen more than her share, to the point that she wondered how much longer she could do what she was doing. But this was what she was good at.

      Chloe moved forward on Mary’s right toward the massive double glass doors. T.J. took the left side of Paul, steering him through the people wanting to shake hands with the couple before they headed into the church.

      Every sense on alert, Chloe kept her hand near her holstered gun. Something didn’t feel right. Or was she confusing this with an assignment she’d had a year ago under similar circumstances? Her shoulder still ached where she’d taken a bullet defending her client.

      Mary had stopped and leaned close to an older woman, taking her hand. “I’ll be praying for you and your family.”

      Tears glistened in the fiftysomething spectator’s eyes. “That means so much to me. I don’t know what else to do anymore.”

      “Praying is important. I’ll be addressing some of the issues you’re dealing with today. I know our talk will be piped out here for the people who couldn’t get seats.” Mary lifted the rope standing between her and the woman. “But I’m sure we can find one extra place for you.”

      Chloe inched closer to Mary, especially as the crowd surged forward with the vacant spot left by the lady. Several people nearby shouted various problems they were dealing with, but the words jumbled into incoherent sentences.

      “We need to keep moving,” Chloe whispered to Mary while her full attention remained fixed on the throng. “Your husband is at the door waiting.”

      Mary nodded and replied to a few close to her as she shuffled forward, shaking hands with as many as she could.

      They were only yards away from the entrance now. The feeling of being watched tickled up Chloe’s spine, leaving goose bumps in its wake. She’d learned not to ignore that sensation. She glanced back, but couldn’t tell anything because everyone’s eyes were on them.

      Then a middle-aged