Guarding His Witness. Lisa Childs

her body slammed against the passenger’s door. “Are you trying to kill us?”

      She’d thought for certain that she was going to die when they’d catapulted through that window of her third-floor apartment. But there had been a dumpster beneath it, and somehow Clint had turned so that she fell on top of him. He was the one who’d hit whatever had been in the dumpster. She suspected he’d also hit the edge of the rusted metal bin.

      “I’m trying to make sure you don’t get killed,” he told her through gritted teeth.

      Was he gritting his teeth because he was in pain?

      She should have been happy that he was, after all the pain he’d put her through. But instead she felt concern. Maybe that was just because she’d been a nurse for so long. She couldn’t not react to someone who was hurt, no matter who that person was.

      She glanced behind them. “Nobody’s following us.” She couldn’t imagine how they could with the way he was driving. “Pull over.”

      “I am not letting you out of this vehicle,” he told her—again through gritted teeth.

      “What?” She didn’t want out. She didn’t even know where the hell they were. But his telling her that she couldn’t...

      Suddenly made her want out very badly.

      “Are you kidnapping me?” she asked as even more adrenaline rushed through her.

      “I’m protecting you,” he said.

      She shook her head. “You’re not a policeman anymore.”

      He’d quit—right after Javier’s murder. The detective who’d arrested Luther Mills had told her. She’d been surprised that Clint hadn’t wanted Luther’s arrest for himself since he’d sacrificed her brother to get it. But then she’d refused to give her eyewitness account to him. She’d refused to talk to him at all until he’d had the gall to show up at the funeral. Then she’d said plenty.

      “No, I’m not a cop anymore,” Clint admitted. “I’m a bodyguard.”

      “Well, I sure as hell didn’t hire you to protect me,” she said. Even if she could have afforded private security, she would not have paid for his services.

      “The police chief hired the agency I work for now,” he replied. “The Payne Protection Agency.”

      “The police chief?” she asked skeptically. He had a whole police force at his disposal. Why would he hire a private security company?

      Clint shrugged and a grimace contorted his handsome face. He was definitely hurt. “Luther has information he shouldn’t. He’s gotten to people in the police department and the DA’s office,” he said.

      Panic had her gasping. “The police officer who was protecting me?” What the hell was his name? Officer Maynard. She remembered now, because she’d thought Javier would have teased him about his name. And he couldn’t be much older than her brother.

      “Maybe,” he said. “I didn’t see who was shooting at us. But even if it was him, he wasn’t the only one shooting. You can’t trust anyone.”

      No. She couldn’t. But she couldn’t wrap her mind around that young officer trying to kill her.

      “But he could have taken me out any time.” A chill chased down her spine, making her tremble even more than she had been. “Why...”

      “Luther gave the order that it was to happen tonight,” he said.

      That was why Clint had shown up at her door when he had. She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

      “What’s not to understand?” he asked. “He doesn’t want you to testify.”

      “But if he has me killed, he’ll do time for my murder,” she pointed out. “Either way, he winds up in prison.”

      Clint shook his head now. “He’s smarter than that. He’s been careful with what he’s said. Nothing would be admissible in court.”

      “Then how can you be sure?” she asked.

      He took his gaze from the street to stare at her for a moment. “After the shooting, how can you ask that?”

      “Maybe they were shooting at you,” she suggested. “I’m sure you have more enemies than I do.”

      “Nope,” he said. “Just you.”

      She glared at him, but he was focused on the road again and probably missed it. “I highly doubt that.” He had to have made a lot of arrests in his years as a vice cop. “Luther could have ordered a hit on you.”

      “I’m sure he wouldn’t be upset if I got hit in the cross fire,” Clint agreed.

      “Were you?” she asked. “You need to pull over, so I can look at your shoulder.”

      He glanced down at it as if he hadn’t realized he was bleeding. “We’re almost there.”

      “Where?” she asked. “Where are you taking me?”

      “To the Payne Protection Agency,” he said.

      She shook her head. “I don’t want a bodyguard,” she said.

      “You need one.”

      After the shooting, she really couldn’t argue with him, especially if the officer really had been one of the people shooting at her. But there was one thing she could refuse. “I don’t want you.”

      * * *

       I don’t want you.

      Clint wasn’t surprised. He knew she hated him—that she blamed him for her brother’s death. She wasn’t the only one who held him responsible. He did, too.

       I don’t want you.

      Those words hung in the air between them in the SUV. She didn’t want him, but he wanted her. He had since the first moment he’d seen her. She was beautiful in a way that went deeper than her golden skin. But even back then, when they’d first met, she hadn’t liked him. She’d known—before Javier died—that working with Clint would get him killed.

      Regret and remorse hung heavy on his shoulders, hurting more than the wound he hadn’t noticed until she’d mentioned it. He was surprised she wanted to check it. But true to her word, once he pulled the SUV into the parking lot of Payne Protection, she was reaching over the console.

      But when she peeled away the edges of the torn jacket and shirt, he flinched, and a curse slipped out between his gritted teeth. “Pouring salt in it?” he asked.

      Her full lips curved slightly. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any with me.”

      She touched it again, and pain radiated down his arm. He asked, “Are you sure?”

      “I didn’t have time to grab the shaker before you tossed me out the window,” she reminded him. “The blood is starting to clot. But you’re going to need some stitches so you don’t have a jagged scar. And some antibiotics. You must have hit it on the edge of the dumpster, because I don’t see a bullet.”

      “Bullet probably would have hurt less.” The minute the words left his lips, he regretted it—especially when he saw the smile slide away from her lips, turning them down into a grimace.

      She pulled her hand away from his shoulder. “Javier probably wouldn’t agree with you—if he had survived.”

      “I’m sorry,” he murmured. But he knew the apology, which he’d uttered many times, would never be enough for her. It wouldn’t bring back her little brother, and that was the only way she would ever forgive him.

      But even if he couldn’t gain her forgiveness, he needed her trust. “We’re here,” he said, and gestured toward the building. Lights glowed through the windows in the brick walls.

      She