Killer Body. Elle James

to thank you for shooting Tomas Rodriguez.”

      Savvy’s hand rose to her throat and she tried to swallow. “But why?”

      “Tomas had a nasty habit of raping young women on both sides of the border,” Liz answered.

      “If people knew this, why wasn’t he caught and prosecuted?” Savvy asked.

      Liz’s lips twisted into a frown. “The rape victims never brought charges against him. Word is that he threatened to kill family members if the victims turned him in. These people are here to thank you, Savvy, for saving their young girls from that monster.”

      “I don’t remember shooting anyone,” Savvy said quietly.

      A chill snaked its way down Dawson’s spine as he stared out at the women and children standing outside the hospital holding up signs written in Spanish and English. The one sign he could make out from behind the glass doors of the hospital said Thank God and Thank Ms. Jones. A lead weight settled in his gut and he backed away from the door, intent on taking Savvy with him. “There are too many people out there. This is a bad idea.” Dawson faced Savvy, blocking her path to the door.

      “I’m going home.” Savvy touched his arm. “Don’t worry, if something happens to me, I won’t blame you.”

      He stared down at the hand on his arm, the gentle touch searing his skin. “You won’t have to, I’ll blame myself.” His glance rose to her face. “Give it another day.”

      “I can’t.” She shook her head without breaking eye contact. “Besides, I want to hear what the D.A. has to say.”

      With a sigh and a cold sense of dread, he faced the door. “Then at least stay behind me. If someone wants you dead, they’ll be waiting for a clear shot.”

      “Wow, you’ve got me convinced.” Liz’s eyes darted left and right. “You don’t think someone will try to hurt her out there, do you?”

      “Someone wants her dead in a bad way,” Dawson responded without taking his gaze off the crowd. “Ready?” He looked around at Savvy’s pale face. “It’s your call.”

      She nodded, straightening her spine. “I’m ready.”

      He had to hand it to her. She might be stupid to step into the line of fire, but she had nerve. Dawson pushed through the glass doors. “Stay close.”

      SAVVY WALKED OUT into the heat of south Texas behind Dawson, hovering so close to him that when he came to a stop, she bumped into his back. “Sorry.”

      “Don’t be. The closer you are to me, the less of a target you’ll make.”

      She swallowed. “But what about you?”

      A low chuckle rumbled inside his chest, shaking the hand she rested on his warm back. “Don’t worry, if I get hurt, I won’t blame you.”

      Wouldn’t blame her? How could he not blame her? Savvy second-guessed herself. Neither she nor Dawson would be hurt if she did as he’d asked and stayed in the hospital for at least one more night.

      A quick look behind her firmed her resolve. No. She couldn’t go back in there. She’d always think of the hospital as a plain white void where she’d woken to nothing. No memory, no past, no family. She gritted her teeth and clutched the fabric of Dawson’s shirt in her fist. She couldn’t go back.

      Savvy touched Dawson’s arm, urging him to stop so that she could listen to what the D.A. had to say.

      “Did Savvy Jones really kill Tomas Rodriguez?” A reporter held a microphone in the D.A.'s face, her cameraperson behind her.

      “At this point Savvy Jones is just a person of interest. An investigation is being conducted. As we learn more, we’ll keep the media informed.”

      A man with shaggy brown hair, carrying a pocket-size camera pushed his way through the crowd of reporters. “What do you know about Ms. Jones?”

      The D.A. frowned. “That she lives in Laredo and works as a waitress at the Waterin’ Hole Bar and Grill.”

      “Is Savvy Jones her real name?”

      “Rest assured,” Young said, “we’re conducting an investigation on all persons involved in the incident, including a thorough background check on each.”

      “Is it true Ms. Jones has only been in Laredo for the past four months?”

      “Yes.” Young’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have a particular direction you’re going with this line of questioning?”

      The man looked all innocence. “No. Just checking.”

      Savvy leaned forward. “Why is that man asking so many questions about me?”

      A woman in the crowd pointed at Savvy and shouted, “It’s her!”

      Then as if surrounded by quicksand, Savvy was quickly engulfed in a swarm of hot bodies and grasping hands. A large woman pushed her way between Dawson and Savvy, cutting her off from her lifeline.

      Savvy reached out for Dawson, but couldn’t quite get past the determined woman who had grabbed her hands, pressing kisses to the backs of her fingers. “Gracias, señorita, gracias!” She stuffed a photograph into Savvy’s hands and, curling her fingers around the tattered edges, she kissed her hands again and moved away.

      Jostled from one person to another, with flashbulbs blinding her, Savvy fought to breathe in the crush.

      A young woman who couldn’t be more than sixteen hugged her neck, tears running down her face. “Thank you, Ms. Jones. Thank you,” she said in heavily accented English. She released her to let someone else through.

      Savvy panned the crowd, frantically searching for the tall Texas bodyguard. It didn’t take long to spot him, but not until her gaze met his chocolate-brown stare did her heart slow.

      Dawson towered over the women, pushing his way back through the mob to get to her. When he reached her side, he slid a hand around her shoulders, tucking her beneath his arm, effectively blocking access to her.

      “Por favor, señor, we wish to thank the señorita for taking care of Tomas Rodriguez for good.”

      Dawson shook his head and said in a voice loud enough to be heard over the crowd, “Tomas Rodriguez’s killer has not yet been identified.” With one arm around Savvy and the other clearing a path, he pushed his way through the crowd toward the parking lot.

      Before they’d moved more than a dozen feet from the hospital entrance, the shaggy-haired man with all the questions shoved his pocket camera in her face and a flash blinded her. “Ms. Jones—if that’s really your name—where did you live before Laredo? Does the name Jameson mean anything to you?”

      Savvy held up her hands to block more of the blinding flashes. “I don’t know anyone by that name. And I don’t know the answers to any of your questions. Please, leave me alone.”

      Another reporter held a microphone in her face. “How do you feel about the death threats from the drug lord, Humberto Rodriguez?”

      Dawson’s brown eyes blackened and a storm cloud of a frown dug into the lines of his face. “Move.”

      “I just want a minute of your time, Ms. Jones,” the man with the little camera called out over the other reporter’s question.

      With her head ready to split wide open, Savvy leaned against Dawson’s broad chest. “Let’s get out of here.”

      Before the crowd could pen them in again, Dawson hooked an arm around Savvy’s waist and half lifted, half dragged her through the throng.

      The stitches on Savvy’s head throbbed. She stumbled and righted herself, a full-fledged panic attack pushing her toward the cars lined up in the parking lot.

      A tremor shook her from head to toe. She could barely get herself out of the hospital