Bodyguard (42 page)

“I’m not. I didn’t doubt it for a minute.” Allie thought for a second, reconsidering, remembering the fear she’d
felt in the cold river, knowing Harry wasn’t a strong swimmer. “Well, except maybe when we first hit the water.”

Harry cleared his throat and turned away slightly. “You know, Al, I just want you to know, I won’t hold you to that promise you made me on that ledge. I mean, I seriously thought we were going to die, and it was just this kind of fantasy thing, you know?”

It took Allie a moment to realize that he was talking about his marriage proposal. “Oh,” she said. “No. I meant it when I said I wanted to marry you.” Realization dawned. “Oh, but if you didn’t mean it …” She took a deep breath. “I can’t have babies, remember, so if you wanted—”

“No,” Harry said. “Jesus. That wasn’t what I meant at all. I’m—I’m dying to marry you, but my life is pretty much a wreck. I’m unemployed as of about an hour ago, and my home life’s a circus. One kid hates me, the other doesn’t recognize me on the street.”

“Shaun doesn’t hate you.”

“He’s not happy about leaving Hardy. He was counting on getting into that dance troupe and—” He shook his head interrupting himself. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m not exactly any kind of prize.”

“I’m not a prize, either,” Allie told him. “And good thing. I’ve done that before—been someone’s prize. It wasn’t any fun.” She crossed to the self-service bar and opened a bottle of seltzer. “As far as the baby thing goes, you know I’ve always hoped that someday I could adopt …”

“Hey, that’s perfect, because my kids seem to want to be adopted.”

“I meant, a baby.”

“I know, I was just making a bad joke.”

“I can’t joke about this, Harry. Maybe I’m hypersensitive
because of what happened with Griffin, but I couldn’t stand it if something like that happened again.”

“Allie.”

She turned to find he hadn’t moved. He was standing there, by the phone, in his soggy jeans and almost-dry T-shirt, with his hair a mess and his heart and soul there for her to see in his beautiful dark brown eyes.

“I want you to marry me because I love you,” he said, “not because I’m looking for some kind of baby-making machine. I want you to be my lover and my friend, not some trophy on the shelf, and I desperately want you to help me with this mess I’m in with my kids. I want them to be our kids. And if you decide you want a baby in a year or five or ten, I will help you adopt one, and I will love him or her as much as I love Shaun and Emily.” He smiled. “And, for the record, I personally am truly looking forward to never having to use birth control ever again, for the rest of our very, very long lives.”

Allie waited to see if he was finished.

He wasn’t. “It’s going to be hard work. I don’t want to gloss that over. I’m not easy to live with. And I know that right now Shaun’s not easy to live with and—”

“You sound as if you’re trying to talk me out of it,” Allie said.

He was silent for a moment, and when he looked up at her, he didn’t try to hide the uncertainty in his eyes. “I’m scared I’m going to let you down.”

She held her hand out to him. “You already jumped off one cliff with me today. Come on, Harry. Let’s go two for two.”

Harry laughed.

And took her hand.

And kissed her.

Free fall had never felt so good.

S
HAUN LOOKED FOR
Harry and Allie in the crowd backstage, after the performance.

He couldn’t see Harry, but across the room he could see eight-year-old Emily, who was still small enough to ride on their father’s shoulders. She waved to him, giving him a double thumbs-up.

He’d danced particularly well tonight.

Maybe it was knowing his family was in the audience. Or maybe it was something about being back in Hardy for the first time in more than four years.

He’d always wanted to dance on the big college stage, now he finally had.

He hadn’t seen much of the town when the Tap Masters tour bus pulled in late last night. And he’d spent most of today in rehearsal. It was good—they’d worked out some kinks in the opening number. But he’d wanted to walk past the old house, maybe go down to the basketball courts …

“Shaun Novick?”

He turned around.

“Oh my God, it is you.”

The young woman standing behind him was nearly as tall as his own six feet three inches. She had long, thick brown hair that cascaded around her shoulders, a body
like a goddess, and the most incredibly beautiful eyes he’d ever seen in his eighteen years of life.

“O’Dell,” he said. “My name’s O’Dell.”

“But it was Novick, wasn’t it? There couldn’t be two Shauns who look just like you, who dance just like you …” She smiled, and his mouth went dry. She had the most amazing smile. “You got contact lenses. I did, too.”

He looked into her eyes. Looked closer and … “Mindy?”

“I got your letter,” she told him. “I would’ve written back, but you didn’t give me your new address.”

“I couldn’t,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. You explained about that man who was after your father and … I just … wished I could’ve written back, that’s all.” She gave him a searching look. “Am I blowing your cover by recognizing you here today?”

Shaun smiled. “Michael Trotta, the mob guy, was killed about three months after he went to prison. We’ve pretty much used our real names since then.” He paused. “How about you? What are you doing here? Do you still live in Hardy?”

“Yeah. I’m home for Christmas break—at least I was. I’ve got to catch a flight back to school in about two hours. I got a scholarship to UCLA.” She gave him another of those amazing smiles. “I’m on the women’s basketball team.”

“That’s so great.” He couldn’t stop smiling at her. “Only two hours, huh? Too bad.”

“Actually, my mom’s in the parking lot getting the car. I’ve got to go.” She held out her hand. “I’m so glad I got a chance to see you. It was a great show.”

There was no way in hell he was only going to shake her hand. He pulled her into his arms.

It was the right thing to do—she hugged him just as
tightly, and when she pulled back, she was laughing. “God, I had such a crush on you in eighth grade. I would’ve died and gone to heaven if you’d ever hugged me like that then.”

“I was awful to you. I can’t believe you don’t hate me.”

She touched his face. “I forgave you. Remember?”

He didn’t want to let go of her. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Did you work things out with your dad?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we’re cool. Harry’s doing great—he’s here today. So are Allie and Emily and Sam, my brand-new brother. Harry and Allie just adopted a baby.”

“Allie?”

“My stepmom. You met her—she used to work for your mother, cleaning houses.”

Mindy nodded. “Okay, right.”

“She’s a writer now. Her second book’s out in June. This one’s going to be big. I can feel it, you know?”

“So Allie married your dad? That’s great.”

“Four years ago,” he told her. “Right after we left town. She’s incredible. I’m crazy about her. Sometimes I wish Harry hadn’t married her so that I could.”

“Hmmm,” Mindy said, narrowing her eyes as she looked at him. “Does that mean you’re still not gay?”

Shaun had to laugh. He gave her a very pointed once-over. “What do you think?”

Her cheeks were pink, but she took his left hand and wrote her phone number on his palm. “I think I’d love to see you again. Call me if you’re ever in L.A.?”

“I will definitely be in L.A., I will definitely call you, and I’m definitely still not gay.”

“And I definitely still have a crush on you.” She gave him another of her million-dollar smiles as she disappeared into the crowd.

Shaun watched her until she reached the doors. She turned and waved. Hot damn. Mindy MacGregor.

“Did you get her number?” Harry asked from behind him.

Shaun held up his left hand.

Harry high-fived him. “You were so good.” He pulled Shaun in for a hug. “I am so proud of you.” He stepped back and looked up at him. “Does that happen often? Women chasing you down and writing their phone numbers on your various body parts?”

Shaun laughed as he lifted Emily into his arms for a hug. “I usually don’t let them write on me.”

“This one was different, huh?”

“Harry,” Allie said, shifting Sam to her other shoulder. “Didn’t you recognize her? That was Mindy MacGregor.”

Harry looked from Allie to Shaun. “That was your friend Mindy, with the glasses?”

“I remember Mindy,” Em said. “She always smelled so good.”

“Yeah, she still smells good,” Shaun told his sister.

“Is she still playing basketball?” Allie asked.

“UCLA.”

“Go Mindy. I always knew she’d grow out of her awkward phase.” Allie turned to Harry. “You never really knew her, but she was a kid who refused to quit. She was the world’s worst basketball player, but she practiced hard and never gave up hope.” She kissed Shaun on the cheek. “Call her right away and ask her to marry you.”

Shaun laughed. “Yes, Mother.”

Harry had put his arm around Allie. Even after four years, he couldn’t stand next to her without touching her. They made being in love look really, really good.

“Thanks for coming,” Shaun told them. “I know it wasn’t easy to get here with the baby and Harry’s crazy schedule.”

Harry’s security consulting business was finally taking off.

“This was good for me,” Harry said. “I’m working on learning to delegate.”

Allie just smiled.

“You were incredible,” Harry told Shaun. “As if you didn’t know. Still, we wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

Shaun smiled and hugged his father again. “I know.”

Read on for an exciting preview of

FLASHPOINT
by Suzanne Brockmann

Published by Ballantine Books
in April 2004.

Before tonight, the closest Tess Bailey had come to a strip club was on TV, where beautiful women danced seductively in G-strings, taut young body parts bouncing and gleaming from a stage that sparkled and flashed.

In the Gentlemen’s Den, thousands of miles from Hollywood in a rundown neighborhood north of Washington, D.C., the mirror ball was broken, and the aging stripper on the sagging makeshift stage looked tired and cold.

“Whoops.” Nash turned his back to the noisy room, carefully keeping his face in the shadows. “That’s Gus Mondelay sitting with Decker,” he told Tess.

Diego Nash had the kind of face that stood out in a crowd. And Nash obviously didn’t want Mondelay—whoever he was—to see him.

Tess followed him back toward the bar, away from the table where Lawrence Decker, Nash’s long-time Agency partner, was working undercover.

She bumped into someone. “Excuse me—”

Oh my God! The waitresses weren’t wearing any shirts. The Gentlemen’s Den wasn’t just a strip club, it was also a topless bar. She grabbed Nash’s hand and dragged him down the passageway that led to the pay phone and the restrooms. It was dark back there, with the added bonus of nary a half-naked woman in sight.

She had to say it. “This
was
just a rumor—”

He pinned her up against the wall and nuzzled her neck, his arms braced on either side of her. She was only stunned for about two seconds before she realized that two men had staggered out of the men’s room. This was just another way for Nash to hide his face.

She pretended that she was only pretending to melt as he kissed her throat and jawline, as he waited until Drunk and Drunker pushed past them before he spoke, his breath warm against her ear. “There were at least four shooters set up and waiting out front in the parking lot. And those were just the ones I spotted as we were walking in.”

The light in the parking lot had been dismal. Tess’s concentration had alternated between her attempts not to catch her foot in a pothole and fall on her face, the two biker types who appeared to be having, quite literally, a pissing contest, and the unbelievable fact that she was out in the real world with the legendary Diego Nash.

They were now alone in the hallway, but Nash hadn’t moved out of whispering range. He was standing so close that Tess’s nose was inches from the collar of his expensive shirt. He smelled outrageously good. “Who’s Gus Mondelay?” she asked.

“An informant,” he said tersely, the muscle jumping in the side of his perfect jaw. “He’s on the Agency payroll, but lately I’ve been wondering …” He shook his head. “It fits that he’s here, now. He’d enjoy watching Deck get gunned down.” The smile he gave her was grim. “Thanks for having the presence of mind to call me.”

Tess still couldn’t believe the conversation she’d overheard just over an hour ago at Agency Headquarters.

A rumor had come in that Lawrence Decker’s cover had been blown, and that there was an ambush being set to kill him. The Agency’s night-shift support staff had attempted to contact him, but had been able to do little more than leave a message on his voice mail.

No one in the office had bothered to get in touch with Diego Nash.

“Nash isn’t working this case with Decker,” Suellen Foster had informed Tess. “Besides, it’s just a rumor.”

Nash was more than Decker’s partner. He was Decker’s friend. Tess had called him even as she ran for the parking lot.