Bodyguard Under Fire

Her eyes filled, but she shook her head. “No. I’m fine.” She raised her hands to the bruising around her neck and gulped. “I was so afraid.” PJ’s head dipped.

Chuck pulled her into his arms. No matter how mad he was, he never could stand to see PJ cry, and after seeing a man choking the life out of her, now was no different. “He’s gone.”

“Yeah, but why was he here in the first place?” She pushed away from him and wandered back into the living room.

Chuck followed. “Is anything missing?”

She checked her purse, thumbing through her wallet. What few bills she’d had were still there, along with her credit card and identification. “The items were scattered across the counter, but nothing seems to be missing.”

“What about the rest of the apartment?”

“I don’t have anything of value. Just a few keepsakes and used furniture. As a waitress, I can’t afford much.” PJ continued around the room, her fingers skimming across the top of the old couch Cara Jo had given her. She ducked into her bedroom and came back out, holding a photo frame, a frown denting her forehead. “This photo is the only thing out of place. It was standing on my nightstand when I left for my shower. I just found it lying on its face.”

“The intruder could have knocked it over.” Chuck reached for the frame.

PJ handed it over. “It’s a picture of me and my birth mother.”

A woman looking remarkably like PJ held a child in her arms and was smiling for the photographer. Her eyes were shadowed, but the love for her little girl was clear in her expression.

“She died when you were little, didn’t she?”

PJ nodded. “I was six. My adoptive mother, Terri Franks, pretty much raised me. We moved to Wild Oak Canyon before I started high school.”

Chuck remembered the pretty young PJ hanging out around the stables, talking to the horses. She’d been more comfortable with the animals than with people.

A knock on the door was followed by a man’s voice. “PJ Franks? Sheriff’s Deputy Johnny Owen. You called?”

PJ hurried to open the door for the officer.

He took her statement, in which she described the attacker, what he wore and which direction he’d gone.

Chuck searched the apartment, analyzing everything he saw for clues as to who had broken into PJ’s apartment and why. All the while he fought to process the miracle of the baby in the next room. His child.

When Owen finished with PJ, the deputy asked Chuck a few questions and then tucked the pad of paper into his pocket and sighed. “Since the man was wearing gloves, I don’t see a need to dust for prints. I’ll have a look around outside to see if there are any footprints on the ground, but—”

“It’s been dry, and the chance of a footprint showing up is slim to none,” Chuck finished. “Thanks for trying.”

After the deputy left, Chuck made a round of the apartment, checking the windows and sliding glass door locks.

When he’d deemed them secure, he met PJ at her open apartment door.

“It’s getting late,” she said. “I need to get some sleep before I hit the day shift at the diner.”

“Will you be all right?” Chuck stepped into the door frame and gripped PJ’s arms, his gaze capturing hers.

“I’ll be fine.” The shadows beneath her eyes spoke of her exhaustion and the lingering fear.

Fine, humph. Chuck wanted to hold her so badly, it hurt to drop his grip from her arms and walk out into the hallway. “If you need me...”

“You’re just a yell away.” She gave him a half smile.

Chuck nodded toward the interior of her apartment. “She’s beautiful.”

PJ’s face reddened, and she nodded. “We’ll discuss Charlie tomorrow.”

“Yes, we will.” Now that Chuck knew he had a daughter, he was determined to be a part of her life, whether PJ wanted him in her life or not.

PJ closed the door behind him.

Chuck waited until he heard the click of the lock being engaged. Then he hurried down the hallway to his room, grabbed a sleeping bag and a pillow and returned to bed down in front of PJ’s door. As he stretched out on the floor and worked the kink out of his leg, he reminded himself that it beat sleeping in a foxhole. And he refused to let anything happen to PJ and his precious baby daughter, Charlie.

Once he was settled, he grabbed his cell phone and hit the speed dial number for Hank Derringer.

The older man answered on the third ring. “Derringer,” he said, his voice scratchy and slurred with sleep.

“Hank, Chuck here. Tell me my assignment was just some sick joke on your part.”

Hank sighed. “I take it you met PJ?”

“I did. You didn’t tell me I’d be protecting my ex-fiancée.”

“If I had, would you have taken the job?”

Chuck wanted to tell the man he would have, but truth was, he probably would have told Hank where to go with his job and assignment. “No.”

“And now?” Hank asked.

With a sigh, Chuck answered. “You know damn well I can’t walk away.”

“I take it you met your daughter, Charlie?”

Chuck swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Yes.”

“Beautiful baby girl, isn’t she?” Hank chuckled. “Looks like her father.”

“How did you know?” Chuck asked.

“Let’s just say I make it my business to know as much as I can about the people I hire. And I have a special interest in PJ that I won’t go into at this time.”

“Now that I’m here and know who I’m supposed to protect, maybe you can tell me why someone tried to kill PJ tonight.”

* * *

AFTER PJ LOCKED the door behind Chuck, she’d leaned her head against the cool, wooden panel, telling herself to breathe.

Chuck still had too much of a hold on her, even after almost a year’s separation. She thought pushing him out of her life had been the best decision at the time. Now she wasn’t quite as convinced. Breaking their engagement had been only a part of it.

Even if Chuck hadn’t insisted on volunteering, PJ suspected she’d have found another way to push him away. They’d gotten too close. She’d fallen too hard, and it scared her.