A Time to Die. BEVERLY BARTON

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СКАЧАТЬ their departure by half a minute.

      When they arrived at the elevator, Deke reached around her and punched the down button. When the doors slid open, he grasped her arm, preventing her from entering. After he gave the interior a visual inspection, he urged her forward and into the car. Only then did he release her arm and hit the lobby-level button

      “It’ll take some getting used to, having a bodyguard,” she told him.

      “If you’ll remember that everything I do is intended to keep you safe, we shouldn’t have any problems.”

      “Hmm…I’ll try to remember that.”

      She tried not to stare at him, but that didn’t prevent her from being completely aware of him. He stood almost a foot taller than her own five-five, and he outweighed her by a good seventy-five or eighty pounds. His masculine presence filled the small elevator. Then there was the way he smelled. Clean and musky at the same time. Soap-and-water clean, a slight hint of some mild aftershave, and a male scent that was purely his own.

      Neither of them spoke again until they reached the lobby, then he asked, “Where’s your car?”

      “In the employees-only parking lot in the back.”

      “Which door do we take to reach the parking lot?”

      “Normally, we’d take the back.” She glanced in that direction and noted the yellow police tape cordoning off the area.

      He grasped her elbow. “Out the front, then.”

      Once outside on the street, she led and he followed, down the block and up the side street until they reached the alleyway behind the buildings. Sunset came fairly early in November. Shielded by the buildings on either side, the alley was dark and shadowed, even though it wasn’t yet twilight. Deke made two quick, decisive moves. Subtle moves. He unbuttoned his jacket, then clamped his big hand around Lexie’s upper arm. When he touched her, she instinctively glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. His attention was focused on their surroundings, his gaze scanning the alley, the back doors of the buildings and the four cars parked in the lot. Her eyes traveled from his lean, chiseled face down his thick neck to his broad shoulders and wide chest. As he moved, his open jacket shifted, and she caught a glimpse of his shoulder holster.

      For half a second, Lexie couldn’t breathe. She hated guns. It was the one thing she disliked about Bain Desmond—that his chosen profession dictated he carry a 9 mm handgun.

      She should have realized that a professional bodyguard would carry a gun. If she asked him to remove the weapon and not carry it, he would probably think she was crazy. And he would no doubt refuse.

      “Which is yours?” he asked.

      “Huh?”

      “Which car is yours?”

      “The white Subaru SUV.”

      She snapped open her purse, rummaged inside and pulled out the keys. He took them from her, marched her to the passenger’s side, unlocked the vehicle and held open the door for her.

      “Are you driving?” she asked. “Since I know where we’re going, wouldn’t it be simpler if I—”

      “I’ll drive.” No discussion. No compromising.

      She nodded.

      “Do you need assistance?” He eyed her cane.

      She shook her head, grasped the door, propped her cane against the console, then heaved herself up and into the SUV. Once she was inside, he closed her door, walked to the back, opened the hatch and tossed his duffel bag inside.

      After he opened the driver’s-side door and got behind the wheel, he asked, “Where do you live?”

      “If I were driving, I could take us directly there instead of navigating you through rush-hour traffic.”

      “And if you were driving and someone tried to force us off the road, would you know what to do?”

      His question surprised her. The thought had never entered her head. “Oh. I’d never thought of that. Is that the reason…?”

      “I told you, there will be a reason for everything I do.” He started the engine. “It will make things easier if you simply accept that fact instead of questioning my actions.”

      “I’m sorry, but I find it difficult to not ask questions. I’ve always been very inquisitive. I want to know who, what, when, where and why.” Her words held a glimmer of humor; her objective was to lighten the mood. “I used to be a reporter in my former life.”

      He didn’t respond. Didn’t smile. Instead his big hands tightened around the steering wheel. Apparently the man didn’t have a sense of humor.

      “I don’t live far,” she told him. “It’ll take maybe ten minutes at most. I live in a loft apartment that Bedell, Inc. owned and Cara sold to me dirt cheap when I moved to Chattanooga a couple of years ago.”

      He pulled the SUV out of the parking lot to the side street. “Right or left?”

      “Take a right.” She gave him her address, then rattled off the directions to her home, assuming she would have to remind him when and where to turn, which streets to take and exactly which building was hers. But without her repeating anything, he drove them directly to her apartment, never having said a word the entire way.

      “Where do you park?” he asked as he pulled up in front of the address she’d given him.

      “In back,” she replied. “See that narrow street?” She pointed at the just-wide-enough-for-one-vehicle road. “It’s one-way. I drive in there and the lot’s halfway along. It goes straight through to the street on the other side, and I have to go out that way.”

      “Is there a back entrance?” he asked.

      “To the building? Yes.”

      “What type of security does the building have?”

      “The tenants have to have a key to enter either the front or the back door.”

      “What about your apartment? Do you have a security system?”

      “Yes, actually, I do.”

      “Good. What’s your code?”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      “What’s your code?” he asked again. “We’ll want to change it. And you won’t give the new code to anyone. Only you and I will know it.”

      “Is that necessary?”

      “You’re questioning me again.”

      She heaved a deep, slightly aggravated sigh. “Sorry.”

      He parked the car, got out, retrieved his duffel bag and was at the passenger’s door before the tip of her cane hit the pavement.

      When he reached out to help her, she jerked away and gave him a negative glare. He put his hands up, palms out, СКАЧАТЬ