Bodyguard by Melanie Shawn
6
Gage
I pulledup to the cabin and turned off the engine. I looked over at Savannah, curled up in the reclined passenger seat and sleeping like a little kitten.
Or an angel.
I pushed the thought aside. No time for that now.
I started to reach over to gently shake her awake but couldn’t bring myself to do it.
She looked so peaceful, breathing in and out, unaware of the pain and fear she was going to face the minute I woke her up. I could give her two more minutes of sweet oblivion.
Or maybe you just like watching her sleep.
I couldn’t deny it. She was beautiful. She always was, no matter what. But sleeping, like this—there was something about her that was extra angelic when all of the worries of the world were lifted from her face.
She stirred, probably lifted from the deepest levels of sleep by the car stopping. I hurried to wake her, not wanting to be caught watching her sleep like some kind of creeper. With all she was going through, that wasn’t the first image she needed when she opened her eyes.
I put a hand on her shoulder, squeezed lightly. “Savannah,” I said, my voice soft to avoid startling her.
Yeah. That was why my voice came out like that. To avoid startling her. Not because all of the gentle affection I felt for her had bubbled up inside me, and the only available release valve was my voice. It was to avoid startling her.
She stirred again, and rolled toward me a little. I shook her shoulder and repeated her name a little louder.
Her eyes fluttered open.
For one shining, perfect moment, I could tell that she didn’t remember what was happening, or why we were together. She only saw my face.
The joy, the love, that flooded her eyes in that instant were enough to make my heart explode. But it was fleeting. Just like everything good in my life.
I saw reality flood in, and she sat up, her shoulders tense and jaw set. “Where are we?”
“At a cabin I own. It’s through shell companies. For exactly this purpose, laying low with a protectee.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Is that what I am? A protectee?”
I didn’t answer for a moment. Finally I said, “Yes.”
Was that all she was? Hell, no. But that wasn’t what she had asked.
I didn’t know what I would say if she did. And I didn’t know if I wanted her to or not.
I climbed out of the car before she could follow up, cleared the area, and hustled her inside. It was all but impossible that the people who were after her could have followed us here, or found us here—especially this quickly.
That didn’t matter, though. The less time we spent out in the open, without cover, the better. That was procedure. That was best practice. And I never deviated.
When we were safely inside, with the door closed and locked, I circled the perimeter and made sure that all the blackout shades were fully closed, the way I’d left them.
When I knew it was safe, I turned on the lights.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, God,” she said. “You kind of undersold it when you called it a cabin.”
I looked around, trying to view it through her eyes. It was large, sure. And nicely appointed. But it was still a cabin. “What would you call it?”
She shrugged. “A lodge. A retreat. I don’t know.”
My lip twitched. “Retreat. I like that. Double meaning.”
She smiled. “Yeah. That’s true.”
I guided her back toward the bedroom. “Come on. You only got about an hour’s sleep. And you were soaking wet and freezing when you showed up at my door. I want you to soak in a hot bath. Raise your body temp. The last thing I need is you getting sick. Then get a solid five or six hours of sleep.”
“What about you?” she said, and my gut twitched at the genuine concern in her voice. “When are you going to sleep?”
I shook my head. “I had a few hours in before you showed up. I’m good.”
She nodded. She didn’t look quite convinced, but she nodded.
“You’ve gotta trust me, remember?” I reminded her. “That’s the only way this works.”
She stopped in her tracks, put a hand on my arm, and looked intently into my eyes. “Gage. I trust you. Believe me. I trust you. You’re the only one I trust.”