Page 29 of Hunted Hearts
She didn’t even see the rich, beautiful wood—she only saw the smudge of black soot streaking his cheek.
She ignored the violin and threw herself at Theo. She struck his chest hard with the force of her embrace and threw her arms around his neck.
His muscular arms looped around her, and he lifted her off her feet, carrying her away.
Faces blurred past her vision, and the crowd seemed to surge around them like floodwaters striking the strong pier that was her bodyguard as he carried her through the parking lot.
“Juliette!” Rachel’s familiar voice made her crane her neck to see her friend—no, herfamily—in the crowd.
Theo spoke to Denver through their earbuds. “Tell the team to follow us to the vehicles.”
Everything blurred into a whirlwind for Juliette as he loaded her into the SUV, setting her on the seat like she was precious cargo, then placing the violin in her lap.
Denver jumped behind the wheel, and Theo took the passenger seat.
“My team? They’re all right?” She twisted side to side, trying to see out the windows.
“They’re following us,” Denver said. “They’re safe.”
She melted against the seat like a piece of candy left out in the sun. Her gaze dropped to her lap and her grandmother’s violin resting across her knees. Tears blurred her vision, and she couldn’t blink them away fast enough. A few trickled down her cheeks.
Using the hem of her dress, she dabbed them away as fast as they fell.
When she began to gather herself together, she tuned in to the conversation in the front of the vehicle.
“We didn’t miss a damn thing in that place,” Theo was saying. “It was clearly arson.”
“Now everyone who paid five grand a plate is going to be under investigation.”
He gave a grim nod at Denver’s input. “Not to mention every worker in the building. Cooks, servers, bartenders.”
They traded a look. To her shock, Theo’s lips did that twitching thing. Not quite a smile, but clear amusement.
“I’ll call Carson,” he said almost cheerfully. “He’s going to love all this extra work.”
“Poor bastard.”
The brothers shared a laugh at the expense of whoever this Carson person was. The sound of Theo’s laugh sent ripples of awareness up and down Juliette’s spine.
The sensation was just as shocking as the fact her bodyguard was actually finding a bright spot in all the darkness that surrounded the day. He could have lost his life back there…for her.
Juliette clutched the violin closer, the smooth wood cool against her trembling hands, and tried to steady the pounding in her chest. Every rise and fall of Theo’s low voice from the front seat pulled her focus away from the fear still twisting in her gut and placed it ontohim—the man who had gone through fire to retrieve something precious to her. Without hesitation.
The adrenaline still hummed through her veins, but underneath it, something…hotter, heavier…stirred each time she caught the faint rumble of his laugh or the view of his strong profile.
She should be shaking with anxiety and fury that somebody was trying to harm her, but instead she sat there, heart beating unevenly, realizing just how much, in such a short time, she’dcome to trust—and feel something for—the man tasked with guarding her life.
* * * * *
The parking lot was empty except for their small convoy—two SUVs idling near the edge of a remote overlook. The view stretched for miles, the valley below painted in muted gold and gray beneath the late-afternoon sky. The wind swept through the lot, cool and restless, tugging at Juliette’s hair as she stood beside the open door of their vehicle.
Theo caught himself staring again.
She was his ward. His responsibility. That was the only reason his eyes kept dragging back to her, the only reason the sight of her wind-tousled hair and pale, tear-streaked face hit something in his chest harder than any bullet ever could.
Back where he came from, there were no tears. No emotions. You got hit; you got up. You buried your dead; you kept moving. Whatever ache was left behind, you stuffed it down until it turned to stone.
But watching her cry silently, her shoulders drawn in tight, her fingers twisting in the hem of her dress—had damn near broken him.
