Undercover Bodyguard. Shirlee McCoy
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to the bakery,” he said, his forehead creased, fine lines fanning out from his eyes. He had long, golden eyelashes and dark gold hair, and he really did look like a Roman statue come to life. Sleek, hard muscles and strong lines. Beautiful in a very masculine way.
“Yes, I am. It’s only two miles from here.”
“Maybe I should rephrase that. You’re not going to walk to the bakery.”
“Of course I am. I make deliveries here all the time, and when the weather is nice and the deliveries are small enough, I walk. It’ll take me a half hour, tops.”
“Not if you pass out from your head injury on the way there.”
“I haven’t passed out yet. There’s no reason to think I will.”
“Listen, Shelby Ann.” Ryder sighed, obviously holding on to his patience with difficulty. “I was supposed to be at work a half hour ago. I have a meeting in an hour. I’d really like to be there. If I drive you to the bakery, I’ll make it. If I follow you to the bakery to make sure you arrive safely, I won’t. So, get in the Hummer and let’s get going.”
“You don’t have to follow me.”
“Yeah. I do. So get in.” He lifted her off her feet, plopping her onto the passenger seat with ease.
“Hey!”
“Move your legs,” he ordered, nearly closing the door on her when she didn’t move fast enough.
“This is kidnapping,” she sputtered as he climbed in.
“If I were going to kidnap you, I’d make sure the dog wasn’t with you when I did it. One hole in the upholstery is enough.” His bland reply almost made Shelby smile.
“You’re a Neanderthal, you know that, Ryder?” she asked without heat as she fastened her seat belt. His hands had been on her waist, and she could still feel the imprint of his thumbs on her belly. Her soft haven’t-done-a-sit-up-in-ten-years belly.
She cracked open the window, letting crisp morning air cool her flushed cheeks.
“A Neanderthal, huh?” Ryder smiled as he drove through the parking lot, and Shelby’s pulse had the nerve to jump in response.
“If the shoe fits…”
“Did they wear shoes back then?”
“They might have. Of course, even if they didn’t, a guy who picks a woman up and throws her in his car is still…” She lost her train of thought; a man at the corner of the hospital parking lot caught her attention.
Dark glasses that glinted in the light. Hood pulled over his hair.
Medium height.
Medium build.
As she watched, he pulled down the glasses, stared straight into her eyes, his gaze hollow and icy-blue.
“That’s him,” she shouted, as he turned and walked around the corner.
“Who?” Ryder braked, leaning past her and looking in the direction she pointed.
“The guy I saw this morning running from 21st Street. He’s heading down Main Street.”
“Stay in the car. I’ll go see what he has to say.”
He was out of the Hummer before Shelby could respond, moving quickly, bypassing a few pedestrians as he jogged around the corner and out of sight.
Going to find the guy with the icy-blue eyes.
Shelby shuddered, smoothing Mazy’s silky head. “He’ll be fine, right, girl?”
The dog whined, but it wasn’t the answer Shelby wanted.
She wanted to know absolutely for sure that Ryder wasn’t going to run into a trap and be brought down by the strange guy with the sunglasses.
Ten minutes passed. Then another ten.
Ryder had a meeting to get to, and Shelby had a desperate need to know he was okay.
She set Mazy on the seat.
“Stay here and don’t chew anything.” She tossed the command out as she opened the door and jumped out. The quick movement was a mistake. Her head spun, and she grabbed the door, steadying herself as she took deep gulps of air.
“I thought I told you to stay in the Hummer,” Ryder snapped, and Shelby jumped, her heart racing double-time as she met his dark eyes.
“I was worried about you.”
“You should have been worried about you. You’re pale as paper. Sit down before you fall down.” His tone was gruff, his hands gentle as he helped her back into the SUV.
“Did you find him?”
“No. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. There are plenty of places to hide around here, that’s for sure, and if he took off his hood and sunglasses, I could easily have looked right at him and not known it.” He glanced around the parking lot, his jacket pulled back just enough to show the edge of his shoulder holster.
A security contractor, that’s what he’d called himself. He looked like one. Tough and determined and very confident.
“I know it was him, Ryder. He was waiting for me.” She shuddered, and Ryder patted her knee. Heat radiated up her leg and settled deep in her belly. She ignored it. Ignored the flush that raced across her cheeks.
“Just because he’s the same guy you saw this morning doesn’t mean he was waiting for you. He might be indigent. It’s possible he spent the night at Manito Park and then came this way for something to eat.”
True. The park was just a few blocks away from Maureen’s, and the Union Gospel Mission was around the corner from the hospital. It all made perfect sense, but Shelby’s shivering fear wouldn’t leave.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m going to call hospital security. See if they can pull up external security-camera footage for me. I want to get a good look at this guy.” He pulled out of the parking lot, the Hummer’s engine purring as he drove toward the bakery.
Shelby’s unsettled stomach churned and grumbled as Ryder talked to a hospital security officer on his hands-free phone, his tone brusque.
She closed her eyes. The day had started horribly, but it didn’t have to continue that way. She’d go to the bakery, work for a few hours, then take Mazy to her apartment, get her set up there. Maybe she’d forget that she’d rung the doorbell and sealed Maureen’s fate.
Maybe.
But Shelby doubted it.
A lone tear slid down her cheek, and she let it fall, because her friend was dead, because Shelby might have killed her and because there was absolutely nothing she could do to change any of it.
FOUR
Shelby seemed to be sleeping as Ryder parked in front of Just Desserts. Pale and drawn, a large bandage on her temple, she looked very young and very vulnerable. That worried him. She worried him. Despite what he’d told her, Ryder didn’t believe in coincidence, and he didn’t believe that the guy she’d seen was some random homeless person. He’d been there for Shelby. Ryder’s gut told him that, and he always listened to his gut.
He’d called the hospital security team and spoken to the head of security, but the thirty-second conversation had revealed little. They’d check their surveillance footage and said they’d report anything suspicious, but Ryder doubted a guy standing on the street corner would be viewed as that.
He frowned, eyeing the news vans parked in the bakery’s parking lot. Obviously, news of the fire, Maureen’s death and Shelby’s involvement had spread.
“Are we at the bakery?”