Page 141 of The Bodyguard

Then she saw Pham.

White noise and rushing blood pounded in her head. He didn’t turn to watch her walk in, but she could have picked him out of the lineup if everyone had their back to her. For years, he was one of the only people she’d seen.

Sawyer was forced to stay with the crowd lining the benches. Whatever had been said to call her to the witness stand had already happened. A uniformed man directed her toward the elevated platform and empty chair. A microphone and a glass of water waited for her there.

Her palms sweated, but Angela didn’t rush. She held her head up and strutted to the witness stand in her killer shoes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pham as she passed, and at that moment, she decided to meet his gaze from her spot next to the judge.

Angela took her seat. The members of the jury watched her. Some looked curious. Others appeared to be exhausted by what thus far must have been tedious with savvy lawyers searching for loopholes.

Another uniformed officer approached. “Raise your right hand,” he directed, “and repeat after me.”

She swore to tell the truth and then noticed Sawyer at the back of the room. His tight jaw and stoic expression were unreadable to anyone but Angela. But, in his ice-blue eyes, she saw the words he’d promised. Their future.

With that, a calm settled over her. This chapter of her life would close. The next one waited minutes away. She couldn’t wait.

Angela testified. She looked Tran Pham in the eye and said her piece. After she spoke, it was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Even when the defense crossed, she didn’t care. There was only so much they could do to assassinate her character, since she had been Pham’s captive for years.

“You may be excused,” the judge said.

Angela met Sawyer’s eyes and almost smiled. She was ready to go home and start their happily ever after.

A glass window shattered.

Bright lights exploded.

Hissing smoke instantaneously filled the room.

“Sawyer!” she called for help as pandemonium broke loose. She could barely see. Tears poured from her burning eyes.

The judge was pulled from his chair.

Gunfire popped. Screams tore into the chemical haze.

Angela ducked. Smoke burned her throat and nose.

A scurry of shouts and orders and rushing feet ricocheted in the melee. She covered her eyes. Rough hands grabbed her arm and shoulder, dragging her out of the chair and over the front of the witness stand.

“No!” Angela choked. She struggled. She lost a shoe and fought for freedom. Gunfire popped again. She threw herself away from the sound. Pain exploded in her shoulder.

Another set of hands reached her.Sawyer. She didn’t have to see him to know it was her man. He roared, swung her into his arms, and, just as fast, rescued her from the gas-bombed room.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

“You did it. You’re done,” Sawyer soothed against the side of Angela’s head. He wasn’t finished holding on to her, even though the threat had been neutralized. Once again, he’d found himself lying in a hospital bed with Angela. This time, he wasn’t fucking around and told the world that she was his. Paramedics. Nurses. Doctors. Anyone who had suggested that his role wasn’t to be right by her side had been told in no uncertain terms that they could fuck off. Sawyer was staying by his woman. Hisverymedicated woman.

“I did it.” She curled into him, agreeing, “I’m done.”

No matter what happened with Pham’s trial, Angela had sat at the witness stand, chin up, and given one hell of a testimony. The defense didn’t have a leg to stand on other than a series of objections that judge had shot down.

As for what had happened in the courtroom, Sawyer didn’t know who or why. The timing made no sense. But truthfully, he didn’t care. Angela was safe, and she was done.

A woman in scrubs with a cheery disposition was allowed into the room, introducing herself as a radiology tech. “Ready to go to X-ray?”

“It’s not broken.” Angela, a little dopey from the recent painkiller, sat up with help.

“Then that’s what we’ll confirm.” The cheery tech positioned a wheelchair next to the bed. “Can you get down or—” She smiled at Sawyer. “Can you get her down?”

Carefully, Sawyer placed a groaning, protesting, somewhat giggling Angela in the wheelchair. He thanked his lucky stars she was entertaining, which kept him from recalling how much he hated hospitals.

---