Unexpected Temptation. Samantha Hunter
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the investigation and found the person who ruined her house. She’d start rebuilding, her bruises would fade and she’d be back to work. Maybe the leave was a blessing in disguise. This way she could focus on starting again, and—
A noise in the hall stalled her thoughts, making her freeze in place.
“Hello?” she called out into the hallway.
No one answered.
Shaking off the momentary panic, Vanessa returned to packing her desk but then jumped as the door behind her clicked shut and the lights in the room went dark.
Before she could turn around, someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth, and she felt something hard jab into her ribs. She twisted, a stinging pain in her side making her cry out.
Vanessa fought and managed to grip the hand holding the knife, pushing it away from her and stomping hard on her assailant’s foot. He yelled, bending forward. His hold loosened as she threw her head back and caught him in the face and then turned to bring her knee up into his groin.
Down he went at her feet.
She was breathing so hard that she thought she might pass out. Vanessa grabbed the weapon and turned to run, but her attacker’s hand closed around her ankle. She fell hard. The knife flew out of her hand, sliding somewhere into the darkness under the desks.
On a surreal level, what crossed her mind was that she didn’t want any of the kids finding it, even though she was still struggling to get away. He was strong, and he managed to drag her closer even as she fought and screamed. No one could hear her—her door was closed, and she was on the far side of the building, away from the auditorium.
He must have been watching the whole time.
“Who are you? Did you set the bomb? Why are you doing this to me?” she managed, landing a rough kick to his forehead as he pulled her closer.
Unexpectedly, the door swung open and the lights went on. Vanessa looked up into the face of Luke Berringer, whose expression was so fierce that she was afraid of him all over again.
He jumped on the man holding her and yelled, “Go!”
Vanessa wasn’t sure what to do. She couldn’t leave Luke here with this attacker, and she watched as both men stood, facing off.
“Vanessa, get out,” he repeated through his teeth, not taking his eyes off the other man, who was completely covered, face and all.
Vanessa could see only his very, very cold eyes, now trained on Luke.
But then, as the two men began to grapple, a flood of voices in the hallway made them all stop. The man fighting with Luke broke away and ran back out the door, disappearing down the hall.
Luke took off after him.
She heard the kids’ voices coming closer, all being given a tour of the school with their parents. She found the knife that had skidded across the floor, grabbed her bag and headed for the nearest exit.
Outside, she didn’t see anyone. Luke and the other man had seemed to completely disappear. Searching around the lot, she called his name, scanning the dark shadows beyond the lit field with no result. Both men were gone.
But for all she knew, Luke Berringer could be lying dead in the shrubs somewhere. She couldn’t leave him. If not for him, she might be dead. Again.
She thought of using her cell to phone the police as she continued to search, but then hesitated. If she called them, they might not give her a choice about being in protective custody now. She didn’t want that, to be hidden away. She wanted to know why this was happening.
Continuing to poke through the bushes that surrounded the large field, she gripped the knife tightly in her hand and ignored the pain in her side. It wasn’t serious; she’d avoided the worst of the knife’s edge.
“Luke? Mr. Berringer? Are you there?” she called out in a low voice. No response.
At wit’s end, Vanessa started heading for the school. If Luke was hurt, he might need help.
As she got her phone out of her pocket, she barely lifted it up to see the screen when it went flying out of her grasp as she was grabbed from behind, a strong hand clamping over her mouth.
3
“SHH. QUIET. IT’S ME, LUKE. What are you doing? Do you have a death wish? Why didn’t you get out of here?”
His face was pressed against her hair, his fingers still over her mouth as she attempted to answer. The rest of him was pressed against the back of her body. She wiggled, mumbling something against his palm, and he let her go.
“Sorry. I didn’t want you screaming or drawing more attention to yourself,” he explained.
As she turned to face him, she winced.
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing. A scrape. I think my jacket and shirt took the worst of it. And I just bought them,” she lamented.
He couldn’t check her wound here, and he figured he had to trust that she was telling the truth until he could get a closer look.
“I don’t know where that guy went, but we need to get out of sight, fast.”
As she ran briskly with him across the lot, he thought he heard her giggle. Or was she hurting?
“Are you okay?” he asked, slowing.
“Um, yeah, sorry. I think the day is catching up with me. I feel...punchy, I guess. Like I’m in an action movie.”
“You’re probably in shock. We need to get you somewhere safe. Fast. Where’s your car?”
She pointed.
“Can you drive?”
She straightened, glaring at him as if she were offended by the question. She’s tough, he thought with a flicker of admiration. And still gorgeous, even dirty and banged up, pale and probably scared out of her wits.
She eyed the car speculatively. “Could there be another bomb?”
Luke didn’t think so, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. He quickly scanned the undercarriage and under the hood, finding nothing unusual.
“You’re good. I’m in that black SUV. Follow me.”
“Where?”
“To the police. Where you can get into protective custody.”
She stepped forward, grabbing his arm with more strength than he’d given her credit for. “No.”
“What?”
“No protective custody. I don’t want to be locked away, not knowing what’s going on. And who’s to say these people won’t find me, anyway? What if the police can’t stop them?”
“I don’t think that would be the case. I’m sure they can put you in a safe house, and that’s the best thing to do until this is resolved.”
“I want to know why this is happening, Luke. The detective told me that you’re a bodyguard. I want to hire you. You can be my protective custody while we figure out what’s going on.”
Luke shook his head. There were too many problems with that. When he was pressed up against her, smelling her hair, every nerve ending in his body had reacted. If he was going to find out what was happening, and why, he had to keep a clear head, which meant handling this on his own.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Listen,” she said, stepping closer. “I’m not going into protective custody. I’m asking for your help. And maybe I can help you.”
“What do you mean?”
“The detective told me you came to my house because you thought I was someone else. Nicky?