My Bodyguard. Dana Marton

      And God, that felt good. Because when you lived on the streets and became one of the “undesirables” of society, the first thing everyone did was avert their eyes. Nobody wanted to see the filth or desperation, nobody wanted to risk a pang of guilt, that they should feel uncomfortable. She had spent years without ever being acknowledged by anyone except those who sought to use or abuse her. She’d been a “problem,” and all people wanted was for problems to go away.

      But there was no pity in Reese Moretti’s gaze, nor anything remotely judgmental.

      She took a breath, feeling her lungs open up. “What are we supposed to do?”

      His shoulders were relaxed, as well as his commando stance. The earlier bluster seemed to disappear from his body language, but some indelible hardness remained. He considered her for a moment. “Nothing if you’re not comfortable with this. We’ll find a way around it.”

      And maybe arouse Cavanaugh’s suspicion and mess up the whole operation. No way she was going to be the reason this mission failed.

      The very fact that Reese gave her a way out made it possible for her to consider letting him closer.

      “I’m going to have to get used to human contact.” It was the healthy thing to do. She needed to get over the past in order to move into a better future. Anita had told her that during one of the woman’s numerous pep talks, and Sam could see now that Anita had been right.

      She took a deep breath. “Maybe we could start with…” She hesitated, and he waited. “Maybe you could just put your hands on me.”

      He raised a hand to her arm, keeping his gaze on her face the whole time. “I can’t promise not to do anything you don’t like in the next few days, but I promise I’m not ever going to do anything that would hurt you.”

      She nodded, nervous enough from his touch to jump all the way to the moon.

      His other hand reached up to her other arm, and he rubbed the goose bumps away with his thumb. “Everything is different now. Back then, you did what you had to. You got yourself out of a bad situation. You survived. You are a hundred percent stronger now.” He gave her an encouraging smile.

      An actual smile. On Reese Moretti.

      She was so startled, she almost believed him. She had always thought herself weak for running away instead of staying and fighting. Weak and stupid. Smart people didn’t end up on the street.

      A survivor. After knowing the worst of the filth about her, how could he see her like that? How could he still touch her?

      She expected the cursory squeeze of polite support, then for him to let go. Instead, he drew her closer, his demeanor nonthreatening, non-sexual. And yet she felt stiff, couldn’t relax, not even in response to the comfort he was offering.

      Then, through the acute sense of discomfort, another feeling seeped through slowly. Surprise. His solid strength seemed like a bulwark against the world rather than suffocating restraints as it had with other men. If only she could accept it.

      It’s crazy. Her defenses rose. She knew next to nothing about the man.

      But that inner voice that had shouted “run, run, run” for the last decade, now stayed curiously silent. After a second or two, she leaned against his shoulder and let him tighten his arms around her. Not because she was beginning to feel comfortable, but because she knew that was what a normal person would do. As long as she was aware of the normal responses and could fake them, they would be okay.

      “How are you doing?” His voice was surprisingly gentle.

      “Fine,” she lied.

      Truth was, she was unable to accept physical comfort from another person.

      Anita had tried, Anita Caballo, with her over-developed sense for mothering and saving all who were around her. But Sam had always resisted even the simplest hug. She didn’t trust women any more than men. Her own mother had taken off and left her with Buck at the end.

      “I’m here to help you,” Reese said.

      “I know.” She drew a deep breath and suddenly felt her eyes burning. What was wrong with her?

      “You’re nervous about tomorrow?” He pulled back a little. “What if I kissed your forehead?” But he didn’t move.

      A second or two passed before she realized he was waiting for permission.

      “Okay.”

      His eyes were full of encouragement as he leaned over and pressed his lips above her eyebrow. He stayed there for a second before pulling away.

      “See? It’s not that difficult. You just have to trust me.”

      He was asking the impossible.

      “I’ll try,” she said anyway. “Don’t take it personally. It’s—”

      “Don’t worry about it. I know,” he said.

      And from the look on his face she got a feeling that he really did. “How?”

      “My job is to bring people back. Go up against rebels, bandits, whomever. I’ve done a few pseudo religious sects and gangs, too, over the years. I’ve seen both men and women who’d gone through hell before we got to them.”

      They stood in silence for a while as she tried to picture the kind of work he did, the danger of it. The idea that he would do that for strangers was stunning. When she’d lived on the streets, every day she prayed for safety. She’d done dangerous things, but only out of necessity. At the end, prison had been a relief.

      And look where she’d ended up now.

      What if joining this mission was the worst decision she’d made yet? What if she messed up and let them all down? What if all she ended up proving, to herself and the others, was that she was a lost cause?

      “How about if we just watch some TV?” he asked after a while. “You can sit by me and we’ll hold hands. You can put your head on my shoulder when you get comfortable.”

      She nodded and sat.

      He plopped down next to her and took her hand. “We can’t have you jump and look ready to run every time we brush up against each other.”

      “I know. I can do this.” She didn’t want him to think she was a total incompetent idiot who was unsuitable for the mission.

      “I know you can. Just relax.”

      It helped that he was doing just that, leaning back and surfing through the channels as if he were in his own living room—wherever he lived when he wasn’t sleeping in the bush.

      He settled on the National Geographic Channel. “Okay with you?”

      “Sure.” She watched an interview with a woman who took in orphaned lion cubs.

      They were cute feeding from a bottle. She let her tightly wound muscles loosen up a little. The cubs grew and needed to be taught to hunt. That took a while. Life was a learning experience for everyone, everywhere. Sam made herself lean against the man next to her, conscious of their bodies touching, not the least comfortable, but making herself do it all the same. If she could learn to pretend, she would be happy with that.

      She didn’t think she could ever forget enough to have the real thing, to be able to relax around a man.

      TSERNYAKOV GLANCED at his timetable and ticked off another task done. Next was calling in all debts people owed him. If they didn’t pay now, they sure as hell wouldn’t be able to pay next month this time. The clock was ticking.

      He needed all that he could get his hands on, and not just the many currencies he did business in. After the terrorist attack, as economies collapsed, inflation was likely to soar. Whoever couldn’t pay up, he would persuade to substitute hard cash with land, equipment, gold, anything potentially valuable.

      He looked at his mile-long