Bodyguard. Shirlee McCoy

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      Maybe the injury to her ankle was worse than she’d been letting on.

      Whatever the case, she stayed right where she was as he opened the door.

      “How about we discuss it on the way to the local police department?”

      “Ian...” She shook her head. “I believed your organization when I was told I’d be safe. They were wrong, and I can’t see any reason to believe you again.”

      “And yet you’re still standing here.”

      “Because I’m tired. I’ve been running for months, and I have at least another month to go before the trial. It’s hard to sleep when you’re worried someone is going to break in and kill you. Without sleep, it’s really difficult to make good decisions.”

      Her honesty surprised him, and he touched her arm, urging her to the open door. “I’ve had plenty of sleep. How about you let me make the decisions for a while?”

      She laughed without humor. “You’re very convincing, but I think I’ll pass.”

      “Then how about you sit in the SUV while I drive, and spend a little time thinking about what you want to do? It’ll be easier doing it in a safe place than it will while you’re out in the open.”

      “Like I said,” she responded, finally stepping away. “You’re convincing, but I’m going to have to pass.”

      “You’re a long way from the state line, Esme.”

      “I was a long way from Florida a couple of months ago. Now I’m here, and eventually I’ll be somewhere else.”

      “You agreed to testify,” he said, trying a different tactic. She was coming with him. There could be no other outcome, but he’d like her to think she’d been the one to make the decision.

      “I will testify.”

      “That’s going to be difficult to do if you’re off the grid and have no contact with us.”

      “Just because you can’t find me, doesn’t mean I won’t be able to find you. I’ll be at the trial.” A note of weary resignation laced her tone. “I’ll provide testimony that will put my brother in jail for the rest of his life.”

      “If you don’t—”

      “I know what will happen if I don’t. I’ll die. I may die anyway, but that’s okay, right? A member of the Dupree crime family dies, and no one in a uniform is going to mourn.” She started walking again, the limp more pronounced.

      “You’re not going to get very far with an injured leg.”

      “Ankle,” she responded. “And I’ll get wherever I want to go. Just let me, okay? Tell your boss and your team and the prosecuting attorney that I refused your help.”

      “I can’t.” That was the truth. He’d sworn to uphold the law. Just like his father and grandfather and great-grandfather, he’d always known he was going to be a cop. He’d worked the beat in Chicago, just like three generations of Slades had. And then he’d reached further, applying to the FBI, passing the physicals, the tests, the interviews.

      His father would have been proud of him.

      If he’d lived long enough to see it.

      “Why? Because I signed some papers that said I agreed to witness protection?” Esme asked.

      “Because you’re more vulnerable than you want to think you are,” he told her. “Because you’re injured and you need to see a doctor. Because your backpack is in my vehicle, and without it, you’ve got nothing.”

      She hesitated, her gaze darting to the Suburban.

      “It would be a lot easier for you to get where you’re going with that pack, right?” he continued, certain he’d finally found the key to getting her to cooperate.

      “Right,” she agreed. “So how about you give it to me, and we can both be on our way?”

      “How about I get you checked out at the hospital, and then I give it to you?”

      “Are you bribing me to get me to cooperate?” she demanded.

      “Yes,” he responded, turning back to the SUV, and to his surprise, she followed. He helped her into the passenger seat and closed the door.

      She was probably hoping to grab the pack and run, but he’d tucked it in next to King’s crate. She’d have to reach over the backseat to do it.

      That would take time, and he didn’t plan to give her that.

      He jogged around to the driver’s side and climbed in. She was already on her knees, reaching into the back.

      “Don’t,” he said, locking the doors and putting the vehicle into Drive.

      “What?”

      “Keep trying to run. It almost got you killed twice. The third time, you might not survive.”

      Pursing her lips, she settled into the seat, yanked her seat belt across her lap and didn’t say another word. Her silence shouldn’t have bothered him. As a matter of fact, he should have preferred it over conversation. She was an assignment, a job he’d been asked to take and that he’d accepted. No matter how much he hadn’t wanted to.

      He’d been after the Duprees since his parents’ murders.

      He and his team were this close to shutting them down.

      Esme was a means to an end, but she was also a human being. One who’d been through a lot. One who deserved as much peace and security as he could offer her.

      She shivered, pulling her hands up into the cuffs of her jacket. It had been hot the past few days, but she’d dressed to keep the bugs away—long pants, jacket, boots.

      “Cold?” he asked, and she shook her head.

      He turned on the heat anyway, blasting it into the already warm vehicle, wishing he could do more for her. Wanting to break the silence and tell her everything was going to be okay.

      She wouldn’t believe him if he did, so he stayed silent.

      He wanted to think Esme had resigned herself to staying in protective custody. However, based on the fact that she’d spent the past few months on the run, he couldn’t.

      He dialed his boss, waiting impatiently for Max West to pick up. They’d spoken a few weeks ago, and Max had made it clear that he trusted Ian to do the job he’d been assigned.

      Ian hadn’t been pleased with the conversation. His past was his business, and he liked to keep it that way. The fact that Max knew about his parents’ murders didn’t surprise him. The fact that he’d brought it up had. The fact that he’d flat-out told Ian that he needed to focus on justice and forget about revenge?

      That still stung.

      Sure, Ian wanted СКАЧАТЬ