Her Bodyguard

Then she saw the table and the array of computers and monitors lined up in front of the big window. Beyond the glass, not fifty feet away, were her French doors.

Lucas had left the light on in her living room, and she could see everything, crystal clear. She stared in horror as the full implication of what she saw sank in.

“Oh, God,” she muttered. Her knees went weak and she had to steady herself with a hand against the wall.

Behind her, she heard him shift. When she looked at him, his expression was sheepish and his cheeks were pink.

“I don’t understand. What’s going on here? This looks like—?” her throat closed up. She couldn’t even form the words.

Lucas opened his mouth, but apparently he was having trouble speaking, too, because nothing came out.

Angela tore her gaze away from the window and looked at the monitors lined up on the table.

And moaned.

“Wh-what is this?” she asked, but he didn’t have to answer. It was obvious what she was looking at. There on the screens, in high definition, were her kitchen, her living room, the building’s lobby—

Her hands flew to her mouth as the meaning of everything she was looking at, everything that had happened, finally coalesced into a clear, cohesive picture. She gasped and gulped in air in huge sobs.

Dear God, Lucas was watching her?

“Y-you?” she stammered. “It was you? Spying on me?”

“No, Ange. Not—not really.”

“Oh, God. But Doug knew—what I was wearing. How?”

“Ange, come here.”

His voice sounded like it was coming through an echo chamber, barely discernable over the sawing of her breaths. “No,” she mouthed.

“Here. Sit down. You’re hyperventilating.”

“No, no, no—don’t touch me.” She backed away, pressing her cupped hands more tightly over her nose and mouth, trying to hold in the screams that wanted to escape.

She glanced toward the door.

“No, Ange.” He spread his arms and held his hands palm up. “Don’t panic. You don’t want to do that. You’re safe here.”

An hysterical laugh escaped her lips. “Safe—?”

She bolted for the door, but he caught her easily and pulled her back against him, pinning her arms.

“No!” She gathered as much breath as she could, in preparation for screaming, but he fastened one arm around her and clamped his other palm over her mouth.

“Listen to me, Ange. I need you to stay quiet and listen.”

She tried to bite him, but his hand held her too tightly.

“Ange, you’ve got to trust me. You’ve got to calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. All I want to do is protect you.”

She exerted all the effort she had to pull against his hold on her. He let her go and she backed away, feeling behind her for the door. She knew it was back there. They’d come straight into the room. The room was dark—all the better to see her with, she figured.

“It’s okay, Ange. It’s me. You know you can trust me.”

She watched him warily. This was Lucas. She didn’t understand what was going on. But he had rescued her.

She glanced cautiously around. The room appeared to be a warehouse space with no interior walls. The only light was from the window. The only furnishings she could see were the long table, two chairs and a cot. If there was a bathroom somewhere beyond the reach of the pale light, she couldn’t see it.

“Ange,” he said gently. “Come over here and sit down.”

She took several cautious steps toward him. He gestured toward the other chair, but she didn’t take it. She stood her ground.

“Tell me what happened,” she said flatly.

He shrugged. “Some of it I don’t understand myself. I was surprised as hell—”

“Lucas!” she snapped. “Don’t give me your charming excuse.” Those few words depleted her breath. Her heart was still beating so fast that she could barely get enough air. “Just tell me the truth. Please.”

Lucas grimaced internally as he took in Angela’s pale face, the shine of unshed tears in her eyes and her horrified expression. He’d scared her half to death, but he’d had no choice. The fact that someone else had gotten into her apartment without her knowing meant she was in more danger than he’d realized

“Okay,” he said and drew in a fortifying breath. “I’m here because your brother asked me to watch over you.”

Angela’s arms tightened around herself, and a tiny wrinkle appeared between her eyes. “My brother? Brad?”

“He’s the one.” Lucas sent her a small smile, but it only earned him a narrow-eyed frown.

“Brad wanted you to watch me?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. What does he think I’m going to do, that I need watching?”

The color was coming back to her face. That was good.