Chapter Fifteen


THREE weeks with Christine had gone much faster than Ben had anticipated. Tomorrow, Tuesday, voters would decide who they wanted for a new governor-Nathan Delacroix or Charles Lambert-and depending on who won the election, Ben's job as Christine's bodyguard would possibly be over. If Nathan won, he was certain that his assignment would be extended a few extra weeks, just to ensure Christine's safety and to make sure there were no other threats issued against her or Nathan.

Ben shifted on the couch in the reception area of The Big Event as he continued his game of FreeCell while waiting for Christine to finish a phone call so they could leave for the night. He honestly wasn't sure how he felt about the possibility of spending more time with Christine beyond this next week, any more than he knew how he felt about leaving her tomorrow-if that's what happened.

Professionally, she was an assignment and an ESS client, and he'd protect her for as long as necessary because that was his job. But on a personal level, he was torn inside. In such a short span of time things had gotten so intense between them-sexually and emotionally. He'd not only crossed a physical line with this woman when that went against his code of mixing business with pleasure, but somewhere along the way his emotions had gotten all tangled up in the mess, too.

And that was something he never saw coming until it was too late-when he'd bared his soul to Christine, along with his deepest, darkest anguish, and the guilt and remorse that had consumed him since Kim's death. The night that he'd lost Kim was something he never talked about with anyone-the guys he worked with were well aware of what happened that fateful night, but they understood it was an off-limits topic for him-yet he'd trusted Christine with the nightmares that haunted him on a regular basis.

But that wasn't all. While he usually kept any kind of personal discussions with a client to a minimum, those kinds of revealing, intimate conversations with Christine had become a common source of pillow talk with them. They'd talked much too openly about their pasts, their family issues, and shared other painful secrets that had given him a glimpse into who Christine was deep inside-a woman with a huge, generous heart who was finally embracing the independent spirit her mother had spent too many years stifling.

God, he was in way over his head when it came to Christine, and Ben knew he had to take a huge step back emotionally, as well as physically. He'd promised Christine he'd go with her to Envy the night after the election to help her celebrate her twenty-seventh birthday, and he decided that would be it for the two of them. In fact, if she did need extended security, he was seriously considering having Kevin or Jon take over for the duration of the assignment in order to make a clean break, instead of drawing out the inevitable.

The sound of two female voices heading toward the reception area pulled Ben from his thoughts. Madison and Christine came into view as they discussed some details on an upcoming retirement party they'd been commissioned to organize and plan, and as soon as they finished their conversation, Christine set a file folder on the front desk and glanced over at him.

"Are you about ready to go?"

It was nearly five-thirty in the evening, and it wasn't like it would take him very long at all to pack up for the night. It was just a matter of shutting down his laptop, putting it in its case, and grabbing the novel he was nearly done with. "I'm ready when you are."

"I'm good," she said, and unlocked the cabinet where she and Madison kept their purses during the day. "How about you?" Christine asked her assistant.

"I have a few more things to finish up before I leave for the evening," Madison said.

Christine nodded in understanding. "Don't forget to vote before coming into work in the morning," she reminded her friend.

Madison laughed. "Don't worry, I won't. Your father is going to kick Charles Lambert's ass tomorrow."

Christine grinned. "God, I hope so! Someone has to stand up for the underdog, and it's clear that Lambert is chomping at the bit to tear down the neighborhoods on the lower west side so he can build to accommodate and appease a lot of the wealthier residents of Chicago." Her voice rang with disgust.

"They're already saying it's going to be a very close race," Ben chimed in as he stood, his computer case in hand. He had endless time during the day to read through news reports, and everyone was gearing up for the big race tomorrow and speculating on the outcome.

Nodding in agreement, Christine slid the strap of her purse over her shoulder and picked up her briefcase. "Which is why every single vote counts in this election."

They started for the front door, and just before walking out Christine glanced back at Madison. "Lock the door behind us when we leave."

Madison rolled her eyes at Christine's overprotective reminder, which really wasn't necessary since Ben had made it a rule that the door remained securely locked when he wasn't around to look after Madison, too. "Yes, Mom!"

The glass door swung shut behind them, and Madison turned the lock and gave them a quick wave. Car keys in hand, Ben walked with Christine toward his truck, which he'd parked a few stores down from her business after lunch. But before they reached his vehicle. Madison called out to Christine, stopping them both on the sidewalk.

"Christy!" Standing with the door propped open with one hand, Madison lifted a file folder for her to see. "You forgot the contract on the Lewis account that you wanted to take home and review tonight."

"Oh, thanks!" Christine started back toward The Big Event, but Ben stopped her before she could go.

Pressing a button on his remote, he unlocked the truck, which was only a few yards away from where they were standing. "You get into the truck and I'll get the folder for you."

Ben waited and watched as Christine headed to the vehicle, wanting to make sure she was securely inside before going back for the file. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a white car stop in the middle of traffic, causing horns to blare from other irate drivers. Ben glanced in that direction, noting that it was a white BMW coupe seconds before he realized that Jason Forrester was behind the wheel and he was pointing what looked to be an assault rifle out the passenger window directly at Christine.

Son of a bitch! He didn't have time to pull his own concealed weapon. Instead, finely honed military instincts took oven along with a rush of adrenaline, and he dropped his laptop bag and bolted back toward Christine, his only thought to protect her as he yelled, "Christy, get down!"

Oblivious as to what was going on, she turned around with a look of bewilderment on her face, just as Ben heard an eery phftt coming from Jason's car, then another shot. Unable to reach Christine in time, he watched in horror as her body jerked from the impact, and then she glanced down to see two vivid red spots forming on her cream silk blouse-one near her left shoulder, and another on the right side of her abdomen.

Clearly in shock at the realization that she'd been shot, she swayed on her high-heeled shoes, tried to step back, but instead collapsed to the sidewalk, her purse and briefcase scattering around her as she lay there, staring up at the sky with wide, startled eyes.

The squeal of tires told Ben that Jason had taken off, and he dropped to his knees beside Christine to assess the situation, his mind reeling and his chest tightening with the effort to keep his own panic at bay.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God!" Madison said hysterically as she ran up to them. "Is she all right?"

Ben didn't know, and his stomach cramped at the thought of anything happening to Christine. Of losing yet another person he'd come to care for. "Call nine-one-one!" he barked out, trying to shake some sense into Madison. "Get an ambulance here now!"

"Already done!" someone else said from nearby, making Ben vaguely aware that a small crowd was starting to form around Christine on the sidewalk.

"Stay with me, sweetheart. You're going to be just fine." It wasn't a promise he had the right to make, but he refused to think differently.

She glanced up at him with pain-filled eyes, then opened her mouth to speak, but only a croak of sound escaped her.

"Don't talk," he said softly, though his own voice shook with fear. "You've been shot." Twice. But that wasn't something she needed to know or hear at the moment.

Because one of the bullets had hit her so close to the stomach, which could prove to be a life-threatening injury if she bled out, he knew he had to staunch the flow of blood until medical help arrived. With hands that were less than steady, he managed to unbutton her blouse and pull it away from the right side of her waist. He gently ran his fingers over the spot that was covered in bright red blood, searching for a wound… but couldn't find one.

What the hell?

Christine winced and moaned as he probed the welt forming on her skin, assuring him that she had been struck with something. Frowning in confusion, he pulled his hand away and rubbed the thick, sticky substance between his fingers. It didn't feel thin and slick like fresh blood, and as he took a whiff of the wetness on his fingers, he inhaled the distinct chemical scent of paint.

Un-fucking-believable. Jason had shot her with a paintball gun, not a real, authentic assault rifle. The relief that poured through Ben was so profound, he felt a well of emotion rise up into his throat and he dropped his head forward to give himself a private moment to gather his composure. Other than being sore and bruised, she was going to be okay.