The Bodyguard

The Bodyguard
Lena Diaz

SHE HAD NO ONE TO FIGHT FOR HER - UNTIL ONE POWERFUL BODYGUARD REFUSED TO LEAVE HER SIDE Her perfect marriage was a sham and Caroline Ashton had the physical and emotional wounds to prove it. With nothing left to lose, Caroline is ready to walk away - and hires Luke Dawson as her personal bodyguard. But before he can do more than secure her a safe house, Caroline stumbles upon the body of the man she’d fought day and night to escape. Now, confronted with fears beyond anything she ever imagined, Luke is the only man she can trust. Putting her life in someone else’s hands isn’t easy, but Caroline knows survival never is. Besides, Luke’s proven himself to be a worthy protector - one who’ll stop at nothing to see she never suffers again.

Luke stepped in front of her, holding his finger to his lips again to tell her to be quiet.

She flung her arms around his waist and gave him a tight hug before stepping back. The look of surprise on his face had her feeling foolish. But then he pulled her close and hugged her, and leaned down with his lips pressed close to her ear.

“Glad you’re okay, too, but you should have stayed upstairs in the closet. Or better yet,” he whispered, “you should have gotten out of here and hid in the woods.”

She shook her head and pulled back. “I’m not leaving you here alone. So you’d better figure out a way to include me in your plans.”

His brows lowered. “You promised.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But it wasn’t a promise I should have given.”

The Bodyguard

Lena Diaz

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

LENA DIAZ was born in Kentucky and has also lived in California, Louisiana and Florida, where she now resides with her husband and two children. Before becoming a romantic suspense author, she was a computer programmer. A former Romance Writers of America Golden Heart

finalist, she has won a prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award for excellence in mystery and suspense. She loves to watch action movies, garden and hike in the beautiful Tennessee Smoky Mountains. To get the latest news about Lena, please visit her website, www.lenadiaz.com (http://www.lenadiaz.com).

I dedicate this book to abused women everywhere. It’s not your fault. It’s NEVER your fault that someone else chooses to hurt you. You deserve a life without fear. Please, don’t wait until it’s too late. For information or help, visit The National Domestic Violence Hotline at www.thehotline.org. (The website has a quick escape option in case your abuser monitors your internet activity). Or call 1-800-799-SAFE(7233) or TTY 1-800-787-3224.

Contents

Chapter One (#u75726e0a-2022-5d74-8900-dc2e154b3102)

Chapter Two (#ucfc5cc75-4e7d-5859-83d4-0420cc898da6)

Chapter Three (#ufe0d8a5a-c9e0-5d40-8ade-77e4236cf36b)

Chapter Four (#ua1840eec-e72b-501d-8415-7499791ed587)

Chapter Five (#u9c1fd582-0a95-5d78-a4bd-462c1d81f9a1)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

The monster sat across the breakfast table from Caroline, looking deceptively handsome in a dove-gray, thousand-dollar suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and the bulging muscles in his upper arms. The tanned hand that flicked the page on his electronic tablet was elegant, strong, with perfectly groomed nails.

They should have been talons.

Talons would have warned people who didn’t know Richard Ashton III that those hands were lethal, especially when they were clasped into fists.

He skimmed through the latest stock-market figures, then looked pointedly at the untouched food on Caroline’s plate.

In spite of the worry that had kept her awake most of the night, the worry that had nausea churning in her stomach this morning, she picked up her fork and took a bite of egg the cook had prepared exactly to Richard’s specifications. She dabbed her napkin on the corners of her mouth as he’d taught her, before training her face into the carefully blank expression she’d learned was the safest.

His brows lowered. “You’re getting too thin, Caroline. That displeases me.”

She stilled, her fingers curling against her thigh.

“I—I—I’m sorry, Richard.”

Calm down. He hates it when you stutter.

She fought back the fear that so often jumbled her words. “I’ll eat everything on my plate. I promise.” She took another bite of egg.

Tiny lines of disapproval tightened around his eyes.

Her stomach twisted. What had she done? She raced through a mental checklist. Her hair was neat and curled to drape over one shoulder in the style he preferred. She’d painstakingly applied the makeup he’d selected for her, natural looking but polished. She held her napkin in her left hand in her lap, her fork in her right, no elbows on the table. What had she missed?

“Don’t look so alarmed,” he chided her. He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. “Or have you done something that requires further instruction?”

“No, no, no, I’ve been good. I don’t...n-need another l-lesson.”

Stop it. Calm down.