Killer Body. Elle James
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member of the hospital staff rolled to his feet and swung a tree-trunk-size arm, backhanding Dawson.
Dawson raised his hand to block, but the force of the man’s swing sent him slamming against the wall. He stumbled and righted himself, but not soon enough to stop the attacker from racing for the door. Nor did he get a good look at him; his face was covered in a surgical mask. Dawson threw himself at the man, catching him by the ankle before he cleared the door.
The big man tripped, fell into the swinging door and out into the hallway, crashing into a nurse passing by with a cart filled with medication. The cart upended, the nurse hit the floor and pills scattered. The perpetrator scrambled to his feet. In one awkward leap, he cleared the nurse and ran for the stairwell.
Dawson followed, skirting the nurse and cart. Before he got halfway down the hallway, he realized he couldn’t go after the man. If he did, that left Savvy Jones unprotected. He stopped just past the spilled cart, his fists clenched, his heart pounding. Then he turned and helped the nurse to her feet. “Call the police. Tell them someone just tried to kill one of your patients. The man is headed down the stairwell.”
The woman nodded and limped toward the nurses’ station.
A man dressed in a Laredo police uniform rounded the corner and ground to a stop, his eyes widening. Then he ran toward Dawson, pulling a pistol from his holster. “Stop, or I’ll shoot!”
Anger surged through Dawson and he advanced on the man.
The man’s eyes widened and he pointed the gun at Dawson’s chest. “I’ll shoot.”
“Then make it count.” In a flash, he knocked the pistol from the cop’s hand, sending it clattering across the floor. His next move had the cop slammed face-first against the wall, his arm locked behind his back in a painful grip. “Were you the officer assigned to guard Savvy Jones?”
“Yes,” he gasped. “Let me go, or I’ll bring you up on charges.”
“And I’ll have your badge,” Dawson said. “I’m the bodyguard the D.A. hired to do the job you obviously couldn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“You left your post.”
“I got called away to handle a shooting in the E.R.” He didn’t struggle. “It turned out to be a false call.”
“And you left Savvy Jones unprotected.” Dawson jammed the man’s arm up higher. “She was almost killed.”
“I’m sorry.”
Dawson shoved the man away. “Get out of here.”
The officer retrieved his weapon, holstering it. “I’ll have to clear this through the D.A.”
“Then clear it. I have a job to do,” Dawson said.
“As do I. Step aside.” A man in green scrubs, with a stethoscope looped around his neck hurried toward Savvy’s door.
“Stop right there.” Dawson’s tone brooked no argument.
The man in scrubs held up his badge. “I’m Savvy Jones’s doctor.”
Dawson scanned it, his eyes narrowed. “No one goes in here without my permission.”
The doctor crossed his arms over his chest. “And what clearance do you have?”
He patted his chest where his Glock usually rested in the shoulder holster beneath his jacket and moved to block the doorway. “I’m Ms. Jones’s bodyguard. If you need any more clearance than that, contact the D.A.”
“Don’t worry, I will.” The doctor performed an about-face and marched toward the nurses’ station. A gathering of orderlies and nurses keeping at a distance from Dawson’s threatening stance, parted to let the doctor through.
Dawson had been away long enough. He entered Savvy’s hospital room and dodged around the end of the bed to find a slim young woman lying on the floor, gasping for air. Her hospital gown had hitched up in the struggle, exposing a significant amount of peaches-and-cream skin and a silky slip of forest-green panties. Strawberry-blond hair spilled down her back and across the floor in long wavy strands. A bandage covered the left side of her head with a white band of gauze wrapped around her forehead to keep it in place.
“What’s going on?” She pressed a hand to her eyes, dragging in deep breaths.
“Someone doesn’t like you much.”
She groaned. “I don’t think I ever want to see another pillow. Especially if it’s over my face.”
“Are you okay?” Dawson squatted next to her. “Want me to call the nurse?”
“No, as long as I can breathe, I’m okay.” Deep green eyes blinked open and widened. “Who are you? You aren’t armed with a pillow, are you?” She leaned to the side to peer around him.
“No pillow, just me, Dawson Gray.” He held out his hand. “I’m your bodyguard, and if anyone asks … your fiancé.”
“Bodyguard? Fiancé?” Her green eyes widened. “Which one is it?”
“Officially, your bodyguard.”
Savvy shook her head. “And I didn’t think this day could get weirder. Well, thanks for coming to my rescue.” Her forehead crinkled into a frown and she winced. “Ouch. Remind me not to frown. It hurts.” She looked at the outstretched hand, but didn’t take it. “Should I know you? I mean, you being my fiancé and all.”
“No. We’re meeting for the first time.”
“Good, because I don’t remember you. Still, how could you be my fiancé if I’ve never met you? Am I a mail-order bride or something? I’m confused.” She pushed up on her elbows and closed her eyes. “Is it me, or is the room spinning?”
“It’s definitely you.” He nodded toward her head. “You’ve got a head wound and someone just tried to smother you. I’m sure neither is helping. Other than that, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I think so. Although my legs didn’t give me any warning before they gave out.” Her lips twitched.
“Give yourself a break. You’ve been through a lot by the looks of it.” He shook his head. “If it’s all the same to you, maybe we could get you into the bed.” He scooped his hands beneath her legs and lifted, straightening. For as tall as she was, she couldn’t weigh much over a hundred pounds.
“Hey!” Her eyes widened and she wrapped an arm around his neck. “Not so fast.”
“Sorry.” He laid her back against the pillows and adjusted the hospital gown around her, his fingers brushing against the silky skin of her thigh. What was he doing? Dawson snatched his hand away and stuffed it into his pocket.
Savvy lay still, her face pale. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds.
The urge to protect hit him so hard, he stepped away. He had no right to be her protector. Qualifications for this job included a proven success rate.
His record stunk. He’d lost his wife, lost a soldier and almost lost his mind. Dawson turned toward the door, retreat foremost in his mind. “Excuse me. I have a call to make.”
“Please,” she called out in a small, scared voice.
The one word halted his forward progress and made him turn back. Big mistake.
She leaned toward him, her wide-eyed gaze darting from him to the door. “Do you have to leave me—” her voice faded, and she shrank back against the sheets “—alone?”
With his hand in his pocket already fishing for his cell phone, he paused. “I’ll be right outside the door. I won’t let anyone past me.”
“Please …” Her fingers plucked at the hospital gown, bunching it, causing the hem to inch up her legs. “I don’t