Bodyguard For Christmas. Carol J. Post

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      Colton rounded a gentle right curve. These were his favorite homesites, with yards that backed up to the stucco wall that surrounded the subdivision, woods beyond.

      “Stop.” Cade held up a hand. “Pull over.”

      He hit the brake, following his brother’s gaze out the passenger window. A pickup truck was parked in the circle drive in front of the house catty-corner from his. A woman slid a five-gallon bucket from the bed onto the tailgate.

      The place had been for sale when he’d left town. Someone had apparently bought it and was doing renovations. From what he’d heard, it had needed it.

      Cade put his hand on the door handle. “Have you met your new neighbor? She’s pretty hot when she’s not covered in drywall dust.”

      “I thought you had an appointment.”

      “I do. But I can always make time for a lady, especially when it involves introducing one to my stick-in-the-mud brother.”

      Great. When Colton’s life had fallen apart and he’d needed to get away, Cade had been at the end of his apartment lease and happy to house-sit. During his almost five months here, he’d probably checked out every single woman in the neighborhood. “I don’t need to be introduced.”

      “We can at least be gentlemen and help her unload those buckets of paint.”

      Colton heaved a sigh, killing the engine, then followed his brother up the drive. The woman cast them a glance, then did a double take. “Whoa, you guys must be twins. One of you is Cade.”

      Cade raised a hand. “That would be me. And this is Colton, the smarter, better-looking one.”

      Her mouth split into a wide smile, and her dark eyes sparkled below a pixie haircut a shade deeper. He could see why Cade would classify her as “hot.”

      Cade had a variety of preferences. Colton measured every woman against one. The comparisons weren’t intentional. They just happened, like a deeply ingrained habit. The thoughts were pointless, because he wasn’t even considering dating, regardless of his meddling brother’s efforts.

      The woman extended her hand. “Jasmine McNeal. I’m hoping to have this place move-in ready in another two weeks.” After a firm handshake, she turned back to the truck and reached for the paint bucket.

      Colton stepped forward. “Let us get those for you.”

      “I can handle them.”

      Yeah, she probably could. She was short, didn’t even reach his shoulders. Jeans and a sweatshirt hid her build, but judging from the way she was handling the paint bucket, she was probably well acquainted with the gym.

      But he wasn’t the type to watch a woman haul construction supplies, no matter how strong she seemed. While she lowered one bucket to the concrete driveway, he reached into the bed and pulled out the second one.

      Cade closed the tailgate. “Sorry to greet and run, but I’ve got an appointment.” He started down the driveway at a half jog, throwing the next words over his shoulder. “I’m borrowing your gate control. I’ll put it back in your car before I leave.”

      Colton followed his new neighbor into the house and placed the second bucket on the concrete floor next to hers. Everywhere he could see, carpet had been removed. The walls had numerous patches varying from fist-size to more than a foot in diameter.

      She followed his gaze. “Pretty bad, huh? The old owners were carrying the mortgage, and when they had to foreclose, the new people got ticked and totally trashed the place. I’m making progress, though. Someone’s bringing in a hopper tomorrow and texturing the walls. Then I’ll be ready to paint.”

      She leaned against the doorjamb between the living and dining rooms. “So, are you visiting Cade?”

      “The other way around. Cade was house-sitting for me while I’ve been gone. He’s pretty well moved out now.”

      Over the past week, while Cade had worked on gathering his possessions, Colton had done some clearing out of his own, a task that had hung over him for the past half a year. The first four weeks, he hadn’t been able to even think about it. He still wasn’t ready, but it was time.

      So three boxes occupied his back seat, with several more packed into the rear. He’d planned to drop the clothing by a thrift store and put the jewelry in the safety deposit box at his own bank. He hadn’t made it to either place before having to get Cade back home. He’d have to run back out this afternoon.

      She walked with him to the door. “Thanks for toting the paint.”

      “No problem.” When he stepped outside, a single beam of late November sunshine had found its way through the clouds blanketing the sky. Across the street, Cade was backing his Corvette through the wrought iron gate at the end of Colton’s driveway. What stood a short distance beyond wasn’t the most extravagant residence in the neighborhood, but the yard was neatly manicured and the three-bedroom, two-bath home exuded warmth and elegance. Not bad for a former foster kid.

      The gate rolled closed, and Cade stopped next to Colton’s Highlander to return the control. Although the community was gated, the wrought iron fence that circled his property added an extra layer of protection. So did the rottweiler who regularly circled the half-acre grounds surrounding his home.

      Except Brutus wasn’t waiting at the fence. A vague sense of unease wove through him as he scanned the yard. In his job as an assistant district attorney, he’d made some enemies and received several threats. Most he hadn’t taken seriously. A few he had.

      He wished his new neighbor farewell and hurried to his vehicle. At a push of a button, the gate rolled open. Still no dog. The uneasiness intensified.

      Colton slid from the Highlander and hurried toward the house. Nothing looked amiss in front.

      But where was his dog?

      He climbed the porch steps, heart pounding. His three-year-old son and babysitter were inside. He fumbled as he tried to insert the key into the lock. When he finally swung open the door, fear morphed to panic. At the opposite end of the foyer, every drawer in the Bombay chest was open, the contents strewn across the top and overflowing onto the tile floor. On either side, the living room and den were in the same condition.

      “Liam!” He ran into the family room. “Meagan!” Where were they?

       Dear God, let them be okay.

      He headed toward the hall. At half past one, Meagan would have already put Liam down for his nap.

      Movement snapped his gaze toward the dining room. As Colton ran into the room, a figure disappeared through the back door, little legs bouncing on either side of his waist. Colton’s knees went weak, almost buckling under him.

      Someone was taking his son.

      He tore into the room, shattered glass on the floor barely registering before he burst through the back door. Two figures ran toward the rear fence, knit ski masks covering their heads. At his shout, the man carrying Liam turned, then dropped his burden.

      Liam hit the ground and landed in a heap, legs СКАЧАТЬ