Page 119 of Trust My Bodyguard

But I hear footsteps. He’s coming. I hunker down by the door and wait.

It creaks open, and a head pokes out. Too bad he’s looking up ahead and not at the threat below. Good for me because I seize the element of surprise.

I stand, and as his eyes widen, I smack the stick on the side of his head. It shatters, the splinters raining everywhere. Ivy yells inside.

Ivy.

I grab him by the collar and throw him down the steps. Then I shut the door behind me.

“Why did you take her?” I take the steps quickly and kick a foot into his face before he can recover. “Why?!”

The man falls back against the snow, bringing his hands to his bleeding nose. His eyes blink open and fall on his gun. As if only realizing what he has, he points it at me, crawling away on his ass like a pathetic loser.

“Who the fuck are you?” Blood dribbles down his jaw as he speaks.

“I’m the one who’s going to kill you for hurting the woman I love.”

Even with the gun in his hand, he gets on his feet and backs away from me, turning in a circle. He’s between me and the cabin now. Is he thinking of going back inside and using Ivy as leverage?

I advance, and he backs away, his leg climbing on the first step. No way in hell. I run after him, and he lets loose two very off-target gunshots. I grab him by the neck just as he reaches the door and pull him to the ground.

He struggles against me with considerable strength but I’m trained and his movements are sloppy. I quickly wrestle the gun free and toss it away.

His fist finds my jaw, but there’s enough adrenaline pumping in my veins for the hit to feel like a mere graze. I return one of mine and another and another. His fighting hands fall limply by his side. Only then do I stop punching him.

I fall back on my haunches, staring down at his still form. My chest rises and falls with relief. Climbing to my feet, I make my way over to the gun and pick it up. A Smith and Wesson. 9mm. The exact make that shot at Ivy back in Denver. I fit it in my belt and open the front door.

Ivy jumps in her seat, and then her eyes meet mine. “Oh, Brody,” she cries my name.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” I kneel before her, looking for the knots that keep her bound. “I should have come sooner.”

“You are here. It’s all that matters. Are you okay? I heard gunshots.”

“I’m fine. He didn’t get me.”

I find a knot and work it free. The ropes unravel quickly, but even before they’ve come off completely, Ivy’s throwing her arms around me and burying her face in my neck while sobbing.

“Did he hurt you, baby?” I palm her face and look over her features.

“No, he didn’t.” She shakes her head, her hair bouncing around her face. “Brody, I was so scared.”

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here. Never going to let anyone get to you. Not anymore.” I hug her tightly, pouring everything I feel into the touch.

“That’s Daryl Olwen. He was the one who trashed our apartment,” she chokes out. “He shot at me. He tried to kill me. It wasn’t Luke.”

“Why?” I look into her eyes. I can’t understand. Why would anyone want to hurt her?

“He blames me because he lost his kids he was abusing. I testified against him. He wanted to get them back.”

I look back at the door, tempted to go outside and give him another thorough beating.

“He’s down, baby. It’s over for him. He came after you. So wrong of him.” I palm her face. “He’s not getting away with it this time.”

A thump sounds outside.

Ivy jumps in my arms, her eyes wide. “Is that him?”

“Wait here.”

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