Jennifer Armentrout - Tempting the Bodyguard

Sipping her lukewarm coffee, she pushed thoughts of Chandler and her own question out of her mind and concentrated on work. For a while, it worked like it always had. She turned off her cell phone, because she really didn’t think she could deal with it if Chandler contacted her, and threw herself into the phone calls with reporters, checked in on the senator, and scheduled an “impromptu” photo shoot of him reading to kids at the local Boys and Girls club. She worked through lunch and answered emails well into the late afternoon.

It was only when the office had quieted around her, blinds had been drawn, and Ruby had left for the day, that she powered off her computer. As she started to stand, she glanced over at the window. With the fading sun pushing through the thin slats in the blinds, she watched the tiny specks of dust floating in the streams of light. That was how she felt, simply floating.

Pressure clamped down on her chest and she quickly shook her head. She had been doing so well. Now wasn’t the time to break down.

She placed her purse on the desk when the door to her office opened. Turning, she expected to see a lingering coworker come through the door, but what she saw stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Steven?”

…

Chandler was hanging around outside Alana’s firm, obsessively watching. It was well beyond the time that she should’ve left work, but she hadn’t stepped foot outside. There was a back entrance to the office building, but it was butted up against an alley, and the parking garage exited out onto the street. And her rental car was still in the garage. He had checked twice now.

Impatient, he pushed off the wall and slipped into the bottom floor of the garage. The fact that there wasn’t any security monitoring the comings and goings after five p.m. grated on his nerves.

He beat feet to the third floor, spying the tan sedan by itself. She was still here.

Chandler stopped in the middle of the parking garage, torn between wanting to bum-rush her office and waiting for her out here. He knew that she wasn’t going to be happy to see him, but both of them were going to have to put their emotions aside. There was no way he was going to allow some other crackpot security firm to step in and protect her.

He waited another good ten minutes before his patience had reached its limit and he started toward the entrance door. One way or another, he was going in there, getting his woman, and bringing her home, where she was safe.

…

Steven didn’t look like the last time she’d seen him. Gone was the perfectly coifed hair and clean-shaven face. His glasses sat crooked on the edge of his nose, and the lenses appeared dirty, as if he hadn’t wiped them in days. His shirt was buttoned unevenly and clung to his wiry frame

Concern filled her as she studied him. “Is everything okay, Steven?”

“Where in the hell have you been?” The door shut behind him, slamming like a crack of thunder, causing her to jump. “Answer me!”

She blinked slowly, her hands following to her sides. “I…I don’t understand.”

He stopped in front of her desk, his face flushed. “Where have you been!” he shouted, and Alana jumped once more, shocked. “You haven’t been at your apartment. You haven’t been at work. Where have you been!”

Oh my God…

Instinct flared alive and she took a step back. At first she had thought something terrible happened to him. Perhaps a death in the family, but now…oh no, her thoughts were going to a terrible, dark place.

“Did you forget about calling me?” he mocked, advancing on her. “But that’s right. You had no intention of doing that.”

“I thought…” She swallowed hard. “You’re engaged.”

Steven laughed, and the sound was unnaturally harsh. “I’m not engaged. There’s no one else. No one but you.”

Icy fear balled in Alana’s chest, a kind of terror she had never felt before. It slithered through her veins, turning her blood to slush and freezing her where she stood. Her brain hadn’t caught up with what was happening. It absolutely refused to believe that Steven had been the person responsible for the letters, the vandalism to her car and apartment, and now he was here, alone with her.

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose as her gaze darted toward the door. Could she make it? She was sure as hell going to try.

“You ruined everything,” he seethed, walking around the desk. “And you had no idea!”

She took a step back, bumping into her office chair. “I’m sorry, Steven, but I don’t—”

He moved so quickly, she didn’t have a chance. Or maybe she was so unprepared for what was happening that she just didn’t react accordingly. His fist snapped out, catching her on the jaw.

Pain burst along the side of her face and she stumbled to the side, banging into her desk. Lights crowded her vision and for a second, pain became everything, shooting down her neck, causing her pulse to spike rapidly.

He reached down, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking her off the desk. A fierce burn shot over her scalp as he hauled her around the desk, dragging her.

“I loved you and you left me,” he said, his fist tightening in her hair, causing her to yelp. “And I didn’t mean a damn thing to you. You just up and dropped me, like I was nothing.”

Her mind was reeling as she tried to break his grasp on her hair. Her foot slipped out of her shoe, throwing her balance off. She honestly didn’t give two shits what his reasoning was at this moment. All she wanted was to be free and out of this office. Spying the heavy hole puncher on her desk, she reached for it, but Steven jerked her head back.

With a wide swipe of his arm, he knocked the puncher off the corner of her desk, along with the container that held her pens. They fell to the floor, rolling across the carpet.

“You didn’t even think about me, did you? My entire life fell apart, and you just went on with your own. That’s not fair.” Steven reached behind him with his free hand. “I didn’t even cross your thoughts. Not once?”

“No,” she gasped, her fingers digging into his hand. “I didn’t think about you once.”

“Well, guess what?” he demanded, brandishing a knife. “No one is going to think about you ever again.”

Alana eyed the wide knife, her heart sinking as a scream built in her throat. In an instant, she realized she was going to die.

…

Halfway across Alana’s office floor, he heard the heavy thud. Instinct roared to life and he took off, racing toward her closed door.

Alana screamed.

The sound pierced him straight through the chest. He reached the door, finding it locked, and he cursed. “Alana!”

There was another scream but it was cut short by the sound of something crashing to the floor. A male’s voice from inside the room exploded. How did someone get in here? The back entrance was the only way. But none of that mattered right now.

Panic punched through his gut as he backed up and lurched forward, slamming his shoulder into the door. The hinges groaned but did not give. He reared back and planted his booted foot near the center of the door, between the hinges. The door gave, snapping the lock and swinging open.

A vase of flowers and a computer screen were shattered on the floor. Among the destroyed glass and plastic, Alana struggled with a man. He had ahold of the back of her neck. An angry red bruise blossomed across her cheek, but Chandler’s gaze trained in on the knife the man held in his hand, high above his head, the deadly edge fixed on Alana.

Rage shot through him like a wrecking ball and his response was cold and quick. He shot forward, clamping a hand down on the man’s shoulder, jerking him.

Alana’s assailant whirled, brandishing the knife and swinging in a high arc. Instinct kicked in and Chandler dipped under the man’s wide, sweeping stab and sprang up behind him. The guy spun, and Chandler caught his arm. Drawing up his knee, he planted his foot in the man’s stomach, sending him flying back. The assailant went down, cracking his head off the corner of the desk, and that was it. Lights out.

“Oh my God,” Alana said, pressing her hand to her cheek as she lifted her wide gaze. “Oh my God, Chandler, it was him. I didn’t think it was someone like him.”

She took another step to the side and stumbled. Rushing to her, he caught her around the waist and turned so she didn’t have to see the man. It was a good thing for the guy that Chandler didn’t have his gun with him, because he would’ve shot and he would’ve shot to kill.

“I didn’t know,” she said in a shaky voice, and kept repeating. “I didn’t want it to be him. He said…he said he was engaged. It was a lie. I don’t…”

“Shh. It’s going to be okay.” Chandler tucked her head under his chin, against his chest. The way her shoulders moved even though she wasn’t making a sound killed him. He smoothed his hand up her spine, thrusting his hand deep in her hair. “Everything is going to be okay now.”

Everything should be okay.

Her apartment had been virtually restored. The rental insurance had kicked in and the new furniture had arrived. The fridge was stocked with fresh food, and several shopping bags were in her bedroom, ready to be emptied of her recently purchased items.

The days that followed Steven’s attack blurred together. Between the police and the hospital visit Chandler had insisted on, the first twenty-four hours afterward had been full of questions and little answers.

She’d learned that Steven had lost his job shortly after she’d broken up with him due to performance issues and a looming malpractice suit. Alana hadn’t had a clue, not even when she saw him the other week at the coffee shop. The police believed that Steven had somehow twisted up the end of their relationship with the loss of his job and had become obsessed with her.