Page 58 of The Bodyguard

“Seriously, Sawyer. A simple no is all that’s needed. You don’t have to make up excuses.” They were still so close, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Can you forget what I said so this isn’t weird?”

“It’s only going to be weird if you move to another seat.”

“Don’t patronize me. Okay?” Angela wriggled and repositioned herself to face away from him but stayed on the couch.

“That wasn’t my intention, sweetheart.”

She hmphed, and he could practically feel her eyes roll. But after a minute, she added, “You’re a very good big spoon, Sawyer. Never would have guessed it.”

“Not so bad yourself, little spoon.” He hid his regret in a forced laugh against the back of her head. “That’s just one of my many talents.”

An hour later, coffees in hand, they had landed, stepping off Titan’s jet and into a waiting SUV. The drive to Emerald Isle wouldn’t take long. Angela was eerily normal. The same couldn’t be said of himself.

Their driver left them at a safe house on the beach that came with a car and a fully stocked refrigerator. An updated briefing book sat on the kitchen counter. Sawyer didn’t know who’d made the arrangements, but they’d done a great job.

He bypassed the kitchen and living room and proceeded upstairs. The floor had two bedrooms, the larger one with an ocean-facing balcony. He tossed Angela’s bag onto that bed and dropped his belongings in the bedroom across the hall. “Good view up here.”

He didn’t hear a peep.

Sawyer wandered to the main floor again and found Angela at the kitchen table with papers spread before her, pen in hand. “You don’t want to see your room?”

“I want to find Mylene.” She had grouped the crime scene photos next to those taken from a vacation rental website. Law enforcement notes were categorized by agency: Local PD. Military police.

He walked around the table and read the notes she’d scribbled in her little notebook. Her proposition was apparently a distant memory. At least it was for her.

Angela dropped her pen on the table. “We’re a block away from where the murders took place.” Her eyebrows arched. “I don’t know what we’re going to find, but we should take a look.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Sawyer grabbed an apple from a fresh fruit bowl. “Can you imagine staying at a vacation rental where a woman killed her husband and sister?”

“Except Mylene didn’t kill them.”

He bit into the apple, chewed, and swallowed. “That’s our working theory.”

Angela glared.

“What’s that look for? If you keep an open mind, the truth will be easier to spot.”

“What? Now you’re Sherlock Holmes?”

He took another bite of the apple. Not only was her proposition a distant memory, but work had her full attention. She wasn’t in the mood to question their working theory. Sawyerreminded himself to let the investigation do the talking. He polished off the apple while she took notes.

What was there to write down? That was the point of a briefing book. Someone had done that already. Sawyer glanced over her shoulder. “You’re making us an agenda?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Good question. He was neither Sherlock Holmes nor Dr. Watson. At least Watson knew when to ask questions and listen. Sawyer could only twiddle his thumbs. “I’m going to look around.”

He left her to investigate the provisions in the pantry and searched for secretly stashed weapons throughout the house. After a minute, he’d completed his search and returned to the kitchen. “Did you pack a vest?”

She glanced up and stared as though he’d asked permission to dance like a fool. “No one knows where I am.”

He shrugged. “Things change.”

“It doesn’t blend in on the beach.” She smiled as though the discussion had ended. “But I did pack SPF and a sun hat.”

He read over her shoulder. The timeline on the note started in fifteen minutes and wrapped with their return at eleven in the morning. “I think we need to compromise on some things.”

“Like?”

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