Bodyguard by Melanie Shawn

57

Savannah

My gut twistedas I stepped out of the van and stood behind the open door of the passenger side. The cool night air hit me in the face like a cup of ice water and I realized how hot my face was. Damn. My blood pressure had to be through the roof.

It did make me feel a lot better to see Gage and Bear, not to mention the entire crew they’d been able to put together on short notice, pile out of the vans, as well.

Gage hadn’t wanted me to get out at all. He’d wanted me to stay put in the passenger seat through the entire exchange, protected behind the bullet-proof windshield that Bear had the van outfitted with.

I’d convinced him, though, that I would be just as protected standing behind the open passenger door, which Bear had also retrofitted to be able to stop all but the rarest armor piercing bullets.

And the advantage of me being on the ground just outside the cab would be that, when my father came over to the open door, I would be able to hustle him into the cab and climb in after him, helping him to slide over to the middle of the bench seat that Bear had also had installed.

I had to smile just a little thinking about it. It was almost like he handled situations like this for a living.

The fact that Gage was so amazingly capable, and the fact that he had people on his team like Bear, who were clearly also incredibly capable, made me feel a little better.

Just a little, though. I wouldn’t feel entirely better until we were driving away. With my father.

“I brought the old man,” Barlowe yelled. “Where’s my kid?”

Gage looked back at one of the black-clad men and nodded. The man circled around to the back of the cargo area and returned a moment later, leading Mac by the arm.

Mac looked over at me, sullen. “Knew it was too good to be true,” he grumbled.

“Send the kid over,” Barlowe ordered, but Gage shook his head.

“Nope. Not how this works. We’re gonna arrive at some terms first.”

Barlowe sneered. “What the fuck gives you the right to dictate terms?”

Gage didn’t answer, just pulled out his gun and pointed it at Mac’s head.

The kid’s eyes widened, and so did mine. We’d never discussed this. It was improvised. Fuck. I hoped to hell that Gage knew what he was doing.

Which was a freaking ridiculous thought…of course he did. But, I couldn’t help it. Looking at Mac’s frantic eyes, it was impossible not to feel sorry for him.

“Fuck! God damn it, you motherfucking asshole. Give me your God damn terms. Just point that thing away from the kid.”

I grimaced. “The” kid. Not even “my” kid. Damn. No wonder Mac had issues.

Gage lowered his weapon, but kept it at the ready. “The terms are simple. The cook and his daughter are off limits. Non-negotiable. You forget they exist, I forget your son exists.”

Barlowe’s eyes narrowed. “And how do I know I can trust you?”

Gage had predicted he would say something like that. The fact that he’d had such a good handle on what would probably happen that he’d predicted most of it so far—gun to Mac’s head notwithstanding—was comforting.

Gage had explained that Barlowe would know that he himself could not be trusted to hold up his end of the deal, and so he would question whether Gage would, either. And this would be his chance to show Barlowe the lay of the land.

“You don’t. But you do know that it took you twelve years of searching to find who you were looking for. I found your son inside a week. And you do know that if I can get to him, I can get to anybody you care about, even with only a few hours’ notice. And you do know that I took out three of your guys without breaking a sweat.

“And what you might not know, but I’m telling you now, is that if anything—anything—happens to Savannah or her father, I will make it my life’s mission to destroy yours. I will kill everything and everyone you love, in front of you, piece by piece. And only when you’ve suffered through all of that will I show you the mercy of putting a bullet in your brain.

“And in case you’re getting any bright ideas about killing me…well, let’s just say this was the crew I was able to put together with two hours’ notice. Any of them would do the same for me as what I just described.”

With that, all sixteen men, plus Bear, lifted their weapons and pointed them at Barlowe.

Not Barlowe’s side of the bridge. Not at Barlowe and his crew in general. At Barlowe, specifically.

If that was obvious to me from my vantage point, I could only imagine what it looked like to him, staring down the barrels of all those guns.

His face lost color, but his voice still maintained all of its bravado when he said, “Fuck it. The old man was useless anyway. Fuckin’ rotting away with dementia or some shit. What do I care?”

Wait…what? My father didn’t have dementia. I had no idea what he was talking about.

One thing I did recognize, though, was the sincerity in his voice, beneath the bluster. He’d done the mental calculations, and the risk-benefit analysis didn’t come down in favor of continuing to come after us.

From his perspective, he had nothing to gain but hollow revenge, and he ran the risk—the very high risk—of losing everything. Including his life.

It wasn’t worth it. It would never be worth it.

Fuck. Were we really almost clear of this thing? Finally? And forever?

It felt too good to be true, so I tamped down the feelings of relief. When we were really safe, meaning out of the range of Barlowe’s men’s guns, then I would breathe again. Not until then.

Barlowe looked back at his man, the one that was holding my father, and nodded. The man pushed my father roughly, and he stumbled forward.

It took everything inside me not to rush forward to help him, but Gage had made me swear on everything I held dear that I would stay behind that door, and so I did. I would never promise something to Gage and then not follow through. That just wasn’t in me.

My hand unconsciously lifted to my chest, my fingertips pressing to the place on the side of my breast where Gage’s words were indelibly inked into my flesh. ‘I love you.’

God, I loved him, too.

He was saving me. He was saving my father. But it was more than that. He was saving us. Our chance for a life together.

He was truly my hero.

When my father reached me, I gave him a quick hug, but rushed to hustle him into the cab of the van. As soon as the guys piled in, I wanted us to be ready to go.

The minute my father reached me, Gage nodded at the guy holding Mac’s arm, and he gave Mac a shove, sending him to cross the divide to his father.

“You got what you came for,” Barlowe sneered. “Drive away. And you better hope I never see your face again.”

Gage’s reply was steely. “You first.”

Barlowe’s eyes narrowed, but after about ten seconds of silent standoff, he gestured to his men, and they turned to get back in their cars. And ten seconds after that, they had pulled out and were gone.

Gage climbed into the driver’s seat. Noises coming from the back told me that the rest of the crew was piling in.

A few seconds after that, we were gone, too, heading through the night back to Bear’s safe house. And safety.