Page 32 of The Bodyguard

He gives me a nod, which I return.

“Keep your eyes off her.” I punch in the code before I say something inappropriate.

The gates start opening.

I don’t like how territorial I’m feeling about her. It’s more than just sexual chemistry.

Way more.

Fuck it.

As I press the accelerator on my car and start driving up to the house, I let myself recall the last time I was responsible for protecting a woman.

I had to watch her step into view with her baby in her arms. Sounds sweet enough.

It wasn’t.

A man—her Iraqi husband—was wearing a suicide vest and holding a gun to her head. The baby was screaming while she trembled and stared at me, pleading for help.

He waited just enough time for me to take it all in. Her fear. Their deaths. Her punishment for betraying him. Then he detonated the vest and the three of them exploded.

Right in fucking front of me.

She’d trusted me.

Just as Savannah is trusting me.

She shouldn’t and I can’t go through that again.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SAVANNAH

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He doesn’t know. There is no way he could know.

I lift my coffee to my lips and sip as Ryder walks into the kitchen. Our eyes lock.

Shit, he knows.

The liquid burns my tongue and I drop the mug, cursing as it splashes on my top.

“Morning.” His voice is thick and sexy.

“Hi.” I reach for a towel and wipe the coffee from my white silk blouse.

It does nothing. I need to get it off fast or it will stain.

“Can you turn around?” I ask.

“What?”

With my fingers, I do the turnaround motion. “I have to strip.”

His eyes widen, but he spins, so I rip off my top and plunge it under the running cold water.

“Where is your team?” he asks.

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