Bodyguard Under Fire. Elle James

hillsides of Afghanistan.

      He’d still be there had he not turned all Rambo and gone off the deep end. Some called him a hero. His commander called him an idiot for risking his life. But other than ending his military career, he couldn’t regret his vigilante justice on the Taliban stronghold he’d leveled to the ground single-handed.

      After what they’d done to that kid...

      Chuck shook his head to clear the images. That was the past. Wild Oak Canyon and Covert Cowboys, Inc. were his future.

      On the edge of town, looking south, he drew in a deep breath of hot, dry air and let it out. Not many understood the lure of this parched desert or chose to live here. Outsiders didn’t last long, not with miles and miles of flat, unchanging terrain, with the Davis Mountains rising in the distance, appearing closer than they actually were.

      Hell, Chuck might not have come back had he not been invited to join CCI, the secret organization billionaire ranch owner Hank Derringer had started recently. Wild Oak Canyon held too many memories, both good and bad.

      Everywhere he turned he ran into mental images of PJ.

      PJ riding a horse across the desert landscape, PJ smiling up at him from their favorite swimming hole, begging him to join her, PJ telling him she’d love him forever...

      Forever had been all too short. She’d begged him not to volunteer for the rotation to Afghanistan, wanting him to wait until his unit was called up, giving them a little more time together before he was put into harm’s way. His Army National Guard unit hadn’t been due for rotation for another twelve months when a call went out for volunteers.

      Chuck had insisted on going, telling her duty called and he had to go.

      They’d argued, Chuck had said things he wished he hadn’t, his temper getting the better of him. Looking back, he could see that PJ had been scared, afraid of losing him. And he’d pushed her away so effectively she’d ended their engagement, throwing the ring in his face shortly before he’d left for predeployment training at Fort Hood.

      God, he’d been so stubborn. If only he’d said he was sorry, they might be married by now. He wouldn’t be wandering the streets of Wild Oak Canyon in search of what he’d lost.

      Yeah, and if wishes were horses, he probably would have been bucked off on his butt anyway.

      Bottom line was that he was back. He hadn’t had the nerve to look up PJ yet and wouldn’t. That didn’t stop his gaze from searching every face passing by on foot or in cars and trucks.

      So far, he hadn’t seen her. For all he knew, she might not be here at all. The last correspondence he’d had from her was a letter asking where she could send the things he’d accumulated at her house. The address had been the same house she’d lived in with her mother in Wild Oak Canyon, but that had been a year ago. A lot changed in a year. He’d driven by that address when he’d gotten to town. A Hispanic family with two small children lived there now.

      Chuck performed a clumsy about-face and headed back to the Wild Oak Canyon Resort staff quarters, his temporary lodging for the assignment Hank had given him.

      His cover was as a handyman, fixing things around the resort and Cara Jo’s Diner, adjacent to the resort compound. Cara Jo Smithson, the most recent owner of the diner and the new property manager for the resort, would give him the particulars about the real assignment. He was to be a bodyguard for one of her employees. No one was to know that but Hank, Cara Jo and Chuck. Not even the employee. What was so special about that person that he needed protecting? Chuck wouldn’t know until Cara Jo returned from her supply run to Fort Stockton. She’d fill him in with all the particulars of the case then.

      Hank had given him a key to one of the rooms in the resort staff quarters. The room was at the back of the resort closest to the diner. From what he could tell, there were only two staff rooms in this wing of the resort, and they shared a bathroom down the hall.

      After settling his duffle bag in the room, Chuck had examined the exterior of the diner and the resort compound. Wild Oak Canyon’s Main Street and the resort had a quaint Wild West theme with weathered-wood storefronts, an old-style barbershop, a general store and a saloon with a hitching post out front. Cara Jo’s Diner was just like the rest of the town, only some of the weathered wood needed repair before someone got hurt or the building suffered further damage from wind and the elements.

      Chuck noted weatherworn boards peeling up on the porch, along with a splintered railing and loose shingles on the roof. One of the eaves had rotted through and would need replacing. As soon as he had sufficient supplies, he’d go to work on those little fix-it items. They wouldn’t keep him busy for long. He hoped there was more work to be done on the inside of the resort or maybe the old livery stable. He preferred working outside, especially around animals. They weren’t as judgmental as people.

      Until he had the supplies and his marching orders, he was at loose ends with energy to burn. Thus the ride, followed by a walk to the end of town and back.

      Temperatures hovered close to ninety, even after the sun set and the stars came out to fill the night sky with their brilliance.

      Chuck headed to the resort. The back door to the office remained locked, no light inside indicating Ms. Smithson’s return.

      Sweaty and smelling of horse, Chuck decided on a shower before his meeting with the boss lady and clumped up the stairs to his room. After gathering soap, shaving gear and a towel, he slipped off his boots and socks and headed down the hallway.

      A noise in the room beside his had him leaning in toward the door. A baby cried, and a woman’s voice talked softly, soothing it.

      Chuck knocked on the door. Was Ms. Smithson younger than he’d thought? Did she have a baby?

      After a long moment the door opened to a slim, pale-skinned young woman with dark hair piled in a messy bun on the back of her head. She clutched a baby in her arms, balancing a bottle under her chin as she juggled the door handle and tried to look up at him. “Yes?” she managed without dropping her chin-hold on the bottle.

      “Are you Cara Jo?” Chuck asked.

      She let go of the door and gripped the bottle, holding it for the baby to feed. “Oh, no, I’m Dana. Cara Jo is the owner of the diner. She lives above it.”

      “Sorry, I’m supposed to meet with her about a job. I’m your new neighbor.” He jerked his head to the left toward his apartment door.

      “Oh, you must be the handyman.” She balanced the bottle with her chin again and held out her hand. “I’m Dana. Cara Jo should be back any minute. She left early this morning for Fort Stockton to get supplies for the resort and diner. They said they’d be back by nine tonight. It’s almost nine now.”

      “I’m Chuck Bolton. Nice to meet you, Dana.”

      “Good to have a handyman around again. My, but you are very tall.”

      He smiled. He got that a lot. At six feet five inches, he tended to be taller than most men. “I can see that you’re busy. I won’t bother you.” He glanced down at the baby, a bubbly, milky smile spreading across her face. Her brown hair curled across her forehead, and the big brown eyes were in sharp contrast to Dana’s cornflower-blue eyes. “Cute baby.”

      Dana smiled down at the child in her arms. “Hear that, Charlie? He thinks you’re cute. Me, too, my sweet little baby girl.”

      “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” He chucked the baby under the chin and she reached out, snagging his finger in her tight little grip. “A little tiger, aren’t you?” He smiled down at the baby, his heart squeezing in his chest. He’d had dreams of him and PJ raising a family together. A strapping brown-haired, brown-eyed boy like him, and an angelic blond-haired, green-eyed girl the spitting image of her mother.

      The phone rang in the apartment behind Dana. “Excuse me. Nice to meet you.”

      Chuck turned away as Dana shut the door.

      Yet