Page 31 of The Great Escape (Wynette, Texas 7)

It was a hot, sunny afternoon. The summer season didn’t launch into high gear until the Fourth of July, but tourists in shorts and flip-flops were already mingling with the locals on Beachcomber Boulevard. The smell of French fries wafted from Dogs ’N’ Malts, a beach shack with a squeaky screen door and splintery picnic tables. She passed the Painted Frog Café, where just yesterday she’d picked up a cappuccino. Next door, a dog lounged in the shade by the entrance to Jerry’s Trading Post. As she took it all in, she realized how much she liked this place, how much she didn’t want to leave it.

Jake’s Dive Shop doubled as the ferry’s ticket office. It smelled of musty rubber and oily coffee. She bought a one-way ticket and stashed the bike in a rack at the municipal dock. Maybe Panda would find it there. Maybe not. She didn’t care.

She joined the line of tourists just beginning to board. A mother jumped out of line to chase a restless toddler. How many times had Lucy imagined herself with Ted’s baby? Now she wondered if she’d ever have a child.

She wished she’d asked Panda more questions, like what kind of reputable bodyguard thought it was a good idea to toss his client on the back of a motorcycle and take off on a road trip? The person in line behind her moved too close and bumped her backpack. She edged forward, but it happened again. She turned and gazed up into a pair of cold blue eyes.

“What I told you was true.” His voice was gruff, his mouth unsmiling. “The bumper stickers were already on the bike. I didn’t put them there.”

He wore the same wet clothes she’d dunked him in, and his hair wasn’t quite dry. She was determined to keep her dignity. “I so don’t care.”

“And I only wore those T-shirts to rile you.” His gaze made its way to her tutu skirt and combat boots. “You look like a teenager turned hooker for drug money.”

“Lend me one of your T-shirts,” she retorted. “I’m sure that’ll polish up my appearance.”

He was receiving his customary amount of attention, and he lowered his voice. “Look, Lucy, this situation was a lot more complicated than you want to acknowledge.” He moved with her as the line edged forward. “The whole world was covering your wedding. You needed your own security.”

She wouldn’t lose her temper. “Three words. ‘I’m your bodyguard.’ Not complicated.”

They reached the bottom of the ramp. The chest-scratching doofus who’d picked her up had turned into Mr. No Nonsense. “Your parents hired me. They gave the orders. They knew you’d object to having private security, especially for your honeymoon, so they wanted you kept in the dark.”

“My honeymoon?” she nearly shouted. “I was going to have security on my honeymoon?”

“How could you not have figured that out?”

She handed over her ticket. He flashed his ferry pass. She stalked up the ramp, her boots clattering on the boards. He followed right after her. “Ted knew it was necessary even if you didn’t.”

“Ted knew about this?” She wanted to stomp her foot, throw a tantrum, throw a punch.

“He’s a realist, Lucy. And so are your parents. I called your father from the convenience store that first night. He told me not to identify myself. He said if I did, you’d figure out a way to ditch me. I didn’t buy it, but he was the one who hired me, so no, I’m not going to apologize for following a client’s wishes.” Lucy tried to walk away from him, but he grabbed her arm and steered her toward the ship’s stern. “As soon as your honeymoon was over and you got back to Wynette, we were dropping security. Except that’s not the way it played out. You took off and media was everywhere. It was too big a story. Too much attention focused on you.”

“Nobody recognized me.”

“They almost did, and if you’d been by yourself, they would have.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” The ferry blasted a warning as they reached the stern. One of the male passengers regarded her with concern. She remembered how young she looked, how threatening Panda looked, and figured he was trying to decide whether or not to intercede. He chose not to risk it. She pulled away. “You said you and Ted were friends

.”

“I met him three days before the wedding.”

“Another lie.”

“I do my job the best way I know how.”

“You’re a real pro,” she shot back. “Is it standard bodyguard practice to stick a client on the back of a motorcycle?”

His jaw set in a stubborn line. “I’m not explaining anything else until you get off this boat.”

“Go away.”

“Look, I know you’re pissed. I understand that. Let’s get off, grab a couple of burgers, and talk this through.”

“Now you want to talk? All right, let’s start with your name.”

“Patrick Shade.”

“Patrick? I don’t believe it.”

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