Page 65 of My Broken Bodyguard 2: Ritchie & Tori

My thoughts were interrupted by Brock, my bodyguard, barking orders at the neighbors to stay back. The sound of firetrucks approaching made this all so real. The thought of curling into myself on the lawn, wishing for death, was what I wished I could do.

“Brock, we need to find his body before the fireman get here. I don’t want anyone to touch him but us,” I pleaded with fresh tears in my eyes.

“Since I can’t leave you alone and you’ll probably try to run into the burning house, I’ll take you. We’ll go through the back of the house. Actually, you’ll wait outside. I’ll enter the house.”

“Ok,” I sniffled.

All I could do was sob as I listened to the barks of my surviving dogs in the chaos.

Suddenly, a hulking figure emerged from the thick clouds of smoke, holding onto my dogs’ leashes with one massive hand. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized who it was.

“Oh my God,” I gasped as I ran towards him as fast as my legs would carry me. Our bodies collided with a force that almost knocked us both over. Tears streamed down my face as I covered his soot-covered face with kisses, unable to believe that he was alive and standing in front of me.

“Ritchie, baby, you’re alive,” I cried out in disbelief and relief at once.

I heard barking. My dogs must’ve survived the blast.

He curled a free arm around my waist. The dogs sniffed us and whined.

“I thought I lost you,” I muttered.

His brows pinched together. “I remember stepping out the back door with the dogs’ leashes. Figured I’d get them ready first, then I’d search the house. The explosion tossed me out of the house. My body slammed against the grass. When I came to, the dogs were licking my face. Guess they remembered me from the few times I came over and fed them.

My hand caressed his jaw. “You came over and fed my dogs?” I asked in disbelief.

“Our dogs,” he corrected.

I smiled up at him and pressed my lips against his.

“I only knew you were ok because I faintly heard you call my name,” he said against my lips.

“Brock stopped me from going into the house to warn you. He grabbed me and jumped off the porch. He saved my life,” I exclaimed.

Ritchie stretched out his hand to my temporary bodyguard. “Thanks, Brock, for protecting Tori.”

“You’re welcome.” He smirked.

Two paramedics approached us. “Hello, we understand the three of you were involved in the explosion. It’s important that we get each of you checked out for injuries,” the brown-skinned woman with the cutest raven pixie cut said.

Soon I’d have to inform Ritchie about the person who attempted to end my life, or perhaps our lives. Were we both targets, or was I the main focus and anyone else at my house just collateral damage in this violent attack?

Once the police officer and fire chief had finished questioning us, we were allowed to leave. During the interrogation, I claimed to have no knowledge of who had attempted to kill me.

My hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel as I pulled away from the curb, with Brock following closely behind.

Richie was in too bad of a condition to drive; the paramedics had diagnosed him with a concussion. They wanted to take him to the hospital, but he refused, promising that he would go later in the day.

“Do you think one of Daryl’s men tried to kill you?” Ritchie asked.

Whimpers from Reaper and Slasher echoed throughout the SUV. Despite their large size, Brock and Ritchie had managed to fit both dogs in spacious kennels in the trunk by folding down the seats. My fire safe was also tucked away back there, keeping my important documents and precious photos protected.

I couldn’t avoid glancing at Ritchie, even though I dreaded the question that would come next. His brown hair was disheveled, sticking up in all directions. But at least his face was now clean, no longer covered in soot. The paramedics had taken care of that. He had a few scrapes on his handsome face, but they were nothing that couldn’t be healed with some tender love and care from me.

I couldn’t control the flinch that overtook me as pain shot through my body.

“Tori, you said you were alright, but it doesn’t seem like it. Should I drive?” Ritchie asked.

“No, I can handle it,” I replied.

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