Page 13 of A Bride for the Bodyguard

It was the first time I’d tasted her, really tasted her.

And goddamn.

My wife was all heat and honey.

I wish I could stay cuddled up next to Marlie for the rest of the day, but there’s no time to indulge in the afterglow. Duty calls. I’ve got a meeting with Rich and Diego at the Surfside Diner. We’re supposed to be going over his new security protocol now that I’m in town.

Suddenly, Marlie stirs, a soft mumble escaping her lips. And for a moment, I’m frozen, caught between the urge to wake her with a kiss or let her linger in whatever sweet dream she’s having.

Fortunately, she settles back into stillness, and I take a breath, releasing the tension that’s gathered in my shoulders.

Slipping from the bed, I pad across the room to grab my clothes from the dresser. Jeans, boots, watch—each piece of my attire is armor against the day ahead. Then, quiet as a shadow, I step out of the bedroom, closing the door with a soft click behind me.

But as the cool morning air hits my face, a new determination settles within me. It’s not just about the job anymore.

It’s about coming home to her.

I pull up to the Surfside Diner about twenty minutes later. And right away, it’s impossible to miss Diego’s security detail parked out front. Their SUVs are as subtle as elephants in a ballet class, sticking out against the backdrop of the sleepy beach town.

I can’t help but shake my head at the sight.

It’s not just the visibility either. It’s the vibe they give off—like hawks circling, waiting for something to happen. No wonder they’re having security problems.

With a sigh, I get out of my truck and adjust my jacket. If this is the starting point, it’s going to be a long day.

As I step inside the diner, the scent of greasy air and sizzling bacon fills my nose. It’s still early, but the place is already buzzing with early risers and insomniacs clinging to their coffee cups.

Rich and Diego are tucked into a corner booth, and I can feel the tension crackling in the air like static before a storm. Rich’s jaw is set, his eyes hard, while Diego fidgets with the silverware, casting wary glances around the room. Whatever’s going on between them, it’s not good.

“Morning, gentlemen,” I say, my voice deliberately casual as I slide into the seat beside Rich.

“Jack.” Rich nods at me, his expression smoothing out into something resembling calm.

Diego just mumbles a greeting, his gaze darting to mine then away, like he can’t quite settle.

I decide to ignore the undercurrents for now. We have bigger fish to fry than their little spat. “Diego, you know why we’re here, right?”

He swallows, nodding slowly. “Yeah. You’re keeping me alive until the trial.”

“Exactly.” I lean forward, locking eyes with him to drive my point home. “And to do that, we need to follow the plan to the letter. No deviations. Understood?”

“Understood,” he says, though there’s a tremble in his voice that tells me he’s less than confident.

“Good.” I sit back, folding my arms across my chest. “Now I need you to tell me everything that happened with you and your security detail from the time you went to the DEA. And don’t leave anything out.”

Over the course of the next hour, Diego spills his guts to us in that dimly lit diner. He lays everything bare, from his old boss’s dangerous network to his desperate decision to turn informant for the DEA.

His voice is even, but there’s a tremor in his hands that gives away just how close he is to the edge. The pieces fall into place as he talks, each revelation painting an increasingly complex picture of the situation we’re tangled up in.

Once Diego is done speaking, Rich whistles low and turns to me, his brow cocked in question. “What do you think, Jack?”

“Definitely smells like a rat to me,” I reply.

Diego shakes his head. “But who? The feds said that everyone on the team came back clean.”

Rich chuckles. “Don’t worry. If there’s a rat, Jack here will smoke them out. You should see what he did to the guys in Vermont.”

“So what happens now?” Diego asks, glancing between us.

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