Agent Bodyguard by Karen Anders

Author:Karen Anders
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-04-12T18:29:42+00:00

Chapter 11

Austin parked at the curb, and turned off his engine. He thought briefly of Jenna alone with Beau, but Amber trusted him, so Austin would trust him, too. He stepped out of the car and faced Jenna’s ex-husband’s estate. The thought that she had lived here twisted through him. For six years, while he was finding his way after the marines and pissing his fiancée off by choosing NCIS over her, Jenna had been living in a loveless marriage as a trophy wife.

Georgetown, a neighborhood populated by the upper stratum in DC society, was quiet. The ambassador lived in a cold, narrow, three-story, modern-looking white house. The lawn was manicured but with very few plants and white stones on either side of the walk.

Tall hedges lined the backyard and when he looked at the upper floor, a curtain flicked. He pocketed his keys and walked the concrete path to the front door, which was also white.

When he got to Webb’s front door, he lifted the brass knocker with a lion’s head and let it drop. Compared to this sterile, almost vacant place, Jenna’s home reflected her warm and generous personality. What did this home say about her ex-husband’s nature?

After a few moments, the door opened and a woman said, “May I help you?” She was as austere as the residence.

He flashed his badge and said, “Yes, I’m here to meet with Ambassador Webb.”

Her smile was tight. “He prefers to be addressed as Mr. Webb now that he’s retired.”

Austin nodded, and she stepped aside to allow him into the house. The foyer was as grand as the entrance, with a grandfather clock that chimed three times. The smell of lemon polish hung in the air; the surfaces, including the wood floor, gleamed.

The maid held out her hand for his coat; he shrugged out of it and she walked to a hall closet and tucked it inside. “This way,” she said.

He followed her down the hall, passing the posh, furnished living room, and Austin stopped dead. Over the fireplace was a portrait of a much younger Jenna, looking exquisite in a beautiful blue dress that brought out her eyes, and long, dark hair, a stunning combination. The woman cleared her throat and Austin turned to find her frowning. They continued on, passing an elegant dining room and stylish powder room. She turned toward a set of wooden doors and slipped through, halting him with her hand up.

She disappeared. Moments later, the doors opened. Bookcases covered the walls from the twelve-foot-high ceiling to the polished pine floor. Here the scent of the ambassador’s expensive tobacco was strongest, the furniture polish an undertone to leather chairs and the faint, musty-sweet aroma of books. An ornate mahogany desk dominated the floor space. Behind it, an entertainment center held shelves of sophisticated stereo equipment. But what caught Austin’s attention were the number of photos of Jenna displayed in frames dotted here and there in the bookcases, with one on the desk next to the humidor, a tray of correspondence and an immaculate blotter.

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