Page 17 of The Bodyguard

Chapter Eight

Kayne

My mind clears. My muscles reset. I’m the killer now.

Benjamin Langley is… was my father’s younger brother. When my parents died, he took over the business and he took over me. Brainwashing me from the time I was twelve, teaching me to be a cold-hearted assassin.

When I failed, he didn’t come after me. He went for my younger sister, Lucy instead. At twelve I was beholden to his charity only because he took claim of the money our parents left us.

By the time I had turned twenty-one, I was everything he wanted me to be. The family killing machine. I made sure I was what he wanted so he would leave my sister alone.

I glance at the splendor of the princess’s face beneath me. The sweet curve of her jaw. Her lush, pink lips. Thick, silky eyelashes fan her beautiful cheekbones. Her breath sweeps over me, and I savor the sound.

I can feel her heart thudding, her pulse racing. Part of me is loath to remove the head of my cock from her pussy. Her lips are like velvet, and I want to feel them flutter around the width of my shaft as I sink into her.

But she isn’t mine. She can never be mine.

She’s a princess.

I’m a killer.

The tension in the air feels different now. These men may have started off with some misguided patriotism in mind, blindly following the new leader, Neil Johnsen, but deep down they’re bad men.

I won’t let anyone touch her.

Loose Cannon has a sinus problem. At the count of every thirty seconds or so, he clears his throat, then uses the back of his hand and swipes it over his nose. The same hand he’s carrying his gun in, the only time it’s pointed away from me.

Tattoo Face is the most dangerous, but I can see him lowering his guard. He thinks he’s safe. Has the upper hand. He’s watching her, licking his lips. That’s the other part of him I’m going to destroy: his eyes.

The other two have let their guard down as well. They think they’re in control. The fifth is standing guard at the window, but he keeps his attention on us more than the window.

And then there’s the boy with the iPad. The one who could instruct the nanny to aim her gun and pull.

I don’t have the luxury of time, but I have the element of surprise. And speed.

“Keep your eyes closed,” I say softly in her ear.

I already choreographed my moves in my head.

I hear him clear his throat.

I rise from her body with one fluid motion. Before he’s done wiping his nose with the back of his hand, I’m on my feet. With the gun still in his hand, I maneuver it toward Tattoo Face, who took three seconds too long to realize what was happening. I pull the trigger and shoot his face off.

She doesn’t keep her eyes closed. She gets up and screams in horror as his blood splatters on her face. I use my body to block her while I break Loose Cannon’s wrist, shoot at the other two before they can take aim while I kick the back of Loose Cannon’s knees until he’s screaming in agony on the floor. A bullet goes into his head.

None of them expected me to retaliate. It was a death wish to do so, especially with a little girl's life hanging in the balance. I use their momentary shock to gain an advantage.

Four down. Two to go.

The fifth man is an amateur and fumbles with his gun. I shoot him without paying attention to where the bullet lands. Either I shot his ear off, or I made a hole in his forehead. Either way, he’s down, but at the same time, I charge toward the kid with the iPad.

He doesn’t know what to do. I disarm him without much effort and take the device from him.

I give him a bloody nose and what’s going to be a terribly sore blue eye tomorrow, and then I twist his arm against his back and drop him to the floor.

I work fast and clinically. I don’t have time. I reach for my stat phone and call Igor Stelling, Princess Sophia’s bodyguard. I’m not sure how far Johnsen’s infiltration of the palace goes, but I trust Igor.

With my foot now crushing one side of Mr. Amateur's head, I bend and place the iPad in his face.

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