The Virgin & Her Bodyguard by Mindy Neff

Author:Mindy Neff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2011-05-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Even before he fought his way through the profusion of vines and flowers hanging from the archway above the courtyard, Cole knew something was wrong.

His hand shot out, his forearm grazing Raquel’s bare midriff. “Stay back.”

“What is it?”

“The window’s open.”

“Of course it is. I opened it before we left.”

“And I closed it.”

She stared at him. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He reached for the gun in his boot, palmed it in steady hands, then carefully tried the front door. Locked. But that didn’t mean anything.

He took the key from his pocket. “I’m going to check around back. Go next door to the bakery. Stay with Sasha until I come for you.”

“Not a chance.”

He spared her a glance, his features tight, dangerous, deadly. “This isn’t a good time to argue with me, spitfire. ”

The idea that someone might have been in her home rifling through her things frightened her. Sending Cole in there alone was even more frightening.

“No time is good for arguing with you. According to the rules, you are not to let me out of your sight. I am keeping you from breaking them. And we are wasting time.”

She started to lead the way out the side courtyard gate. He grabbed her arm. “Do as you’re told,” he said tightly.

She faced him squarely. “I will, Cole. I will obey every order you give in the next few minutes. But I cannot hide next door, not knowing if you should need me, if I should call for help. I am the only backup you have available right now. I will not have you facing this alone.”

A muscle moved near his jaw. “We’re going to have a long talk about this stubborn streak of yours.”

When he took her hand in his, the strength was protective rather than angry. They made their way along the narrow side passageway, the stones and mortar of the small house still emanating heat from a sun that had set hours ago. No fences separated Raquel’s house from the bakery, which also doubled as living quarters for the St-Pierres. Lax building codes and limited space put the structures nearly within touching distance.

The backyard was almost as narrow; it enclosed little more than a flower garden bordered by a strip of gravel and a chipped birdbath that held several inches of stagnant water.

A clay pot lay broken on the back stoop, dirt scattered, the straggly fern she’d been babying resting in the rubble, its roots exposed.

Cole squeezed her hand—as though apologizing for the fate of the plant—then let go.

He checked the door, then inserted the key, turning the knob slowly. Raquel realized she was nearly plastered against his back and straightened to give him some room. The flashing light on the alarm box went from red to green as he punched in the code.

She felt as if she’d stumbled into the middle of a cops-and-robbers movie as she dogged Cole’s steps from room to room. He held his weapon in both hands. pointing upward.

She bumped into an end table and froze at the grating screech of furniture against the wood floor.

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