Page 117 of Trust My Bodyguard

I was the one all along. I brought this murderous psychopath to our doorstep.

“Thinking?” He narrows his eyes at me. “Do more of that. Come up with something.”

I drop my gaze, hoping someone finds me. This man is sick, and he has no problem killing. My father was never a threat. Neither was the man from Iris’s former label.

This is the killer. And he has a gun trained on me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Brody

I pull at the door handle, but it doesn’t budge. It rattles as though it’s broken. He must have broken it. I rear backward and slam my booted feet against the door. Then, my shoulder. A frustrated shout leaves my throat.

Ivy.Oh no.

I race blindly, looking for another way out. I find one through the kitchens past the cooks and a mixture of aromas. They leave me sick to my stomach.

I swallow a deep breath in the crisp, open air and run in the general direction of the door they left through. The terrain is still. Way too still for a night when a man has taken Ivy away.

My boots sink into the snow as I try to move quickly. “Ivy!” I shout at the top of my lungs. “Ivy!” But my voice is carried awayby the slow evening wind, and an answering call doesn’t come back.

I finally reached the door through which they left, and I was right. The handle is shattered, lying on the ground. I spin around, trying to make sense of everything. Where could he have taken her?

My gaze falls on the footprints in the clear snow. My heartbeat speeds up. I follow it, hoping, praying I’d find Ivy at the end of it.

But the trail ends, and she’s not there. A new track begins—not feet. The long lines and continuous weaving pattern spell a snowmobile.

I turn around and race toward the garage where the snowmobiles are housed. Time is of the essence, and I don’t want to waste a second getting to Ivy.

The garage lights up as I walk in. I get on the one closest to the door and turn the key. It doesn’t start.

“Fuck.” I climb off and try the next and the one after.

After a few seconds, it becomes clear. They’ve all been disabled. The bastard.

I march out of the garage and run into Nick and Zane.

“We heard shouting,” my friend says, a frown marring his features.

“Someone took Ivy.” My head spins. Who knows what he’s doing to Ivy now? This was premeditated. He knew where thesnowmobiles were located and how to prevent anyone from following him.

“What?” Nick frowns. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

I grab Nick’s arm before he can go on the futile mission to get a snowmobile. “He disabled all of them.”

“The fuck?” He gapes, looking as confused as I feel.

Zane’s face gives nothing away as he snaps his phone out. “I’ll call for help.”

Cliff leads the way out of the kitchen doors, with the rest of the women and Callum following. Nick relays what has happened as I pace. Ideas are thrown around, but none ensure I’ll get Ivy as quickly as I’d like.

Fuck it.

I head to the lodge’s rental. I’m moving blindly, rage and fear coursing through me. I grab a pair of skis and poles. The first boot I pull on is a size too small. My foot swims in the second. I roar and toss the boot so hard it crashes into a shelf, raining gear parts. The staff will hate me tomorrow. I hate myself right now for the delay. Anything could be happening to Ivy.

Lungs heaving, I grab another pair and slip my foot inside. Third time’s the charm. It fits.

Goggles. I need them. A pair hangs off the counter’s edge. A drop away from the trash can. Better that than spending precious seconds looking for another one. I snatch it and head out.

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