The Bodyguard. Lena Diaz

his hands on the edge while he waited for her explanation.

      “Richard is a very...large, strong, determined man. He can be...dangerous. He’s extremely... If he were to... I just...” She let out a deep sigh. “I need to know that you would be safe if...when...he comes looking for me.”

      This time, there could be no doubt that the fear in her voice, in her expression, was real. It was palpable, a living, breathing thing, constricting around her, ready to choke her into submission.

      She twisted her fingers together. The diamond ring glittering on her left hand sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights. The center stone had to be four carats, easy. It could have paid the rent on Luke’s office and his house for a full year, with money left over.

      But that wasn’t why he decided he had to convince her to hire him.

      He had to convince her to hire him because whether the threat against her was real or imagined, she believed it was real. But even more important than that, he’d never met any clients before who were more concerned about their bodyguard’s welfare than their own. A person like that deserved his protection, because he was one of the best. And regardless of who she was, she deserved something he sensed she hadn’t had in a long time: someone who would look after her, someone to take her seriously, someone who would be her ally.

      He waited until her haunted gaze lifted to his before answering.

      “Mrs. Ashton, your husband may be a tad taller than me, possibly even brawnier. But fighting isn’t all about size. It’s about training, experience, strategy. I don’t have the slightest doubt I can handle him in a fight...if it comes to that. The best strategy is to avoid a fight if at all possible. But if you hire me, I’ll guard you with my life. I will do everything I can to keep you safe. And I’ll make sure your husband never gets anywhere near you again. That’s a promise. And I never, ever break a promise.”

      Unshed tears brightened her eyes, inexplicably making Luke want to pull her close and hold her until the fear subsided and the shadows in her eyes disappeared.

      “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaking with obvious relief, her throat working as if she was struggling not to cry. “Thank you so much.”

      Chapter Three

      Caroline sat in her car in the circular driveway of the blue-and-white one-story cottage. She’d lived in a mansion for over five years. Before that, she’d lived with her parents about three hours from Savannah in the same house since the day she was born. But this plain, simple structure already felt like the home she’d never really had.

      Because she wouldn’t be sharing it with Richard.

      A tap on her car window made her start. But it wasn’t her husband’s angry visage glaring at her through the glass. It was the concerned face of Luke Dawson, who’d hopped out of the car as soon as she’d parked. She’d apparently zoned out, lost in her memories, and her fears, and forgot about him. She pressed the button and lowered the window.

      “Mrs. Ashton, we need to get inside. You’re sitting out in the open here.”

      “Of course. I’m sorry. Should I pop the trunk for our luggage?”

      “No...I’ll get our bags after you’re safely inside the house.”

      She rolled the window up and opened the door.

      He reached for her hand. She hesitated, bracing herself not to jerk away when his much larger hand closed around hers. But when he touched her, to her surprise and relief, she didn’t feel nausea or dread. Unlike her husband’s touch, the warmth and strength in Luke’s hand made her feel something she hadn’t felt in years...safe.

      She smiled up at him, but he was too busy scanning the yard and street out front to notice. As she stood, another sharp pain shot through her belly, making her wince. She was glad Luke hadn’t seen that. It had been difficult enough to admit to a stranger that she was afraid of her own husband. It would be beyond humiliating for Luke to even suspect the extent of her cowardice over the years, to learn just how much she’d endured, all because she’d been too weak to stand up for herself.

      A warm breeze filtered through the trees overhead, stirring his lightweight leather jacket. She’d wondered why he wore a jacket in the summer, but now she knew: to conceal the gun holstered on the hip pocket of his jeans. She’d never been this close to a gun before and had always assumed it would terrify her. But the sight of his weapon was actually reassuring. Richard might laugh at her puny attempts to deflect his blows, but even her husband wasn’t immune to the ravages of a well-aimed bullet.

      Luke stayed at her back as she walked the short distance to the front stoop, but as soon as she unlocked the door, he rushed her into the foyer and flipped the dead bolt behind them.

      His mouth tightened into a thin line. “No security alarm?”

      “Not yet. I only rented the house a little over a week ago.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “We’ve never had one at the mansion. Richard didn’t like the inconvenience of having to worry about using a keypad if he decided to step outside at night.”

      “You didn’t need one at the mansion because the estate was gated and had security guards watching it 24/7. I’ll get someone out here today to install one.”

      He gently pushed her aside as he opened the hall-closet door, apparently searching for intruders. Next, he glanced through the archway to their right into the family room, then back down the hallway to their left. “Stay here while I check the bedrooms.”

      He disappeared down the short hall. It took him less than a minute to search the two bedrooms and bath. Then he was back at her side in the foyer.

      “I assume the kitchen is through the family room?” he asked.

      “Yes, through that other archway.” She didn’t bother to add that this was her first time seeing the house in person. Leslie had handled everything for her: helping her find the house, arranging for the lease, getting the key. Caroline had only seen the house online and knew the layout from the virtual tour. There was never a chance for her to physically go to the house. Richard would never have let her out of his sight long enough for that.

      Luke headed into the family room, which had a panoramic view of both the street out front and the fenced backyard. The long, narrow style of the house was one of the primary reasons Caroline had chosen it. When Richard eventually discovered where she was—and she didn’t doubt that he would—she wanted to see him coming. And with both front-and rear-facing windows in most of the rooms, she’d always have an exit nearby so she could flee if she had to.

      After looking behind the couch and the few other places big enough to hide someone, Luke continued into the kitchen.

      A moment later, the sound of his deep voice carried to Caroline, in a one-sided conversation she couldn’t quite make out. He must be talking to someone on the phone. Obviously there wasn’t anything to worry about if he could take the time for that.

      She wiped her brow, surprised to find it damp with perspiration. The inside of the house was nice and cool, both from the air conditioner and because of the majestic, Spanish moss–dripping oak trees that hung over the roof, shading it from the merciless summer sun.

      Maybe she was catching a cold, or the flu. That would explain why she was achy all over, even in places where Richard hadn’t hit her. She dropped her purse on one of the end tables that had come with the furnished cottage and headed toward the kitchen. When she stepped into the entryway, she froze.

      On the far side of the room, Luke was talking to someone on his cell phone. But on the white tile floor at his feet, lying in a pool of blood, was Richard Ashton III.

      The room began to spin. Richard had found her already. How? It was a trick. It had to be. Any second now he would jump up and point an accusing finger at her. Then he’d teach her another lesson. Her eyes widened as she stared at him. The blood. No, no, no. The blood was soaking into his favorite Italian suit—the