The Bodyguard

“I’m not lost. I need protection.”

Her words, and the desperate quality of her voice, had those alarms ringing in his head like church bells on Sunday. Still, he didn’t want to offend her if he’d misunderstood—because surely a billionaire’s wife didn’t really need Luke’s protection.

“Mrs. Ashton, it’s no secret that your husband has a contract with Stellar Security, one of the best security firms in Georgia, one of my biggest competitors.” He glanced at Mitch, who’d gone stone-faced as soon as Luke mentioned Mitch’s former employer. Mitch hated Stellar Security, but since he’d never explained why, Luke could only go by his own personal dealings with the other firm.

“I wish I could tell you my company could do better,” he continued, “but honestly, I don’t have the resources the other firm has. I have five bodyguards, besides myself. Stellar has dozens. If someone’s bothering you, I can call your husband’s security guys and talk to them for you.”

She shook her head, her eyes widening. “No, don’t call them. They’re the last people I would trust.”

He frowned. “Why wouldn’t you trust them? They work for you.”

For the first time since coming into the office, she seemed to really focus on him. The blank look evaporated, replaced by a look of startling clarity and intelligence, as if she’d been playing a role earlier and she’d decided to drop all pretenses.

“No. They don’t work for me. They work for my husband.”

Few people surprised Luke Dawson anymore, but Caroline Ashton had just given him a sucker punch. Was it possible she was afraid of her husband? If something...bad...was going on between them, Luke would have expected rumors in those gossip magazines. At the very least, he’d expect to hear something in the bars when he and his security friends bantered about their clients and the crazy things they sometimes did. But he’d never heard a whisper of anything bad about the Ashton couple. Not one.

He had heard the exact opposite, that Richard Ashton III was practically a saint, in spite of his wife being a bit...needy, to put it kindly. She was said to be nervous, high-strung, but her husband was the epitome of tenderness whenever they were seen together. He was always at her side, seeing to her every whim.

Luke studied her face. Her skin tone was even, her makeup accenting her natural beauty, not thick like women wore when trying to cover bruises. Long sleeves covered her arms—no clues there. But her legs, at least what he could see beneath her modest, below-the-knee skirt, were long and sleek, without the hint of a bump or a bruise. There was nothing about her appearance that made him think she had valid reasons to fear her husband.

With everything he’d heard about the Ashtons, he should believe she’d come here, like so many women before her, planning a divorce and hoping to use the “abuse excuse” to take her husband for everything he was worth. That would make sense, except for one thing.

The fear in her eyes is real. He’d bet his autographed Tom Glavine baseball on it.

Still, just in case he was wrong, he proceeded as he would with any other client, probing for the facts.

“Let me guess. You’re getting a divorce, and you want a bodyguard until the divorce is final.”

Her eyes widened again. “I haven’t filed yet, but that’s my intention, yes. I’ve rented a house outside of town. I’m on my way there now. I just need someone to stay with me until things are...settled.”

That admission sent a flash of disappointment through him. Maybe he was wrong about the fear in her eyes. Maybe she was just like those other women, the ones who would tarnish their husbands’ reputations with ugly lies so they could profit financially when their relationships went south.

“You need a bodyguard right now?”

“Yes.”

He straightened away from the desk. Regardless of the kind of person she was, he couldn’t afford to turn away a paying client. He had too many unpaying ones to allow that luxury and keep his business afloat.

As for going on assignment right now, that wasn’t a problem. He kept a go-bag packed at all times with his clothes and extra ammunition. Since Luke needed to keep his hands free while guarding a client, Mitch would load the bag into the car while Luke escorted the client outside. Standard operating procedure, and so routine he didn’t even need to remind Mitch, who had already jumped out of his chair and grabbed the go-bag. He stood waiting beside Luke’s desk with the strap over his shoulder.

“We can leave right after you sign a contract and pay a retainer fee,” Luke said. “Do you want to take your car or mine?”

Her cheeks flushed a light pink. “Mr. Dawson, I mean no disrespect, but you’re a bit...small. Is there someone else you could assign to help me?”

He stared at her in stunned amazement. Mitch shook his head, obviously as confused as Luke was.

Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “Mrs. Ashton, in all my thirty years, no one else has ever called me small. I’m six foot three and weigh two hundred twenty pounds. I’m not bragging when I say most of that is muscle. It’s just a fact, a necessity of my occupation. I was a champion boxer in high school and college. I’m extensively trained in self-defense. I carry a concealed weapon, am a crack shot and I know just about everything there is to know about guarding people. I assure you, I’m more than capable of protecting you.”

She politely cleared her throat, not looking all that impressed with his speech. “Have you ever met my husband?”

“Not in person, no. But I’ve seen pictures of him.” He leaned back against the desk again and braced 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.”