Necessary Risk (Bodyguard) (25 page)

“Stay down here and wait for the cops,” he called over his shoulder to Zack as he followed her up the stairs.

She stood in the center of the room, hugging herself as she stared at the vile destruction, and his chest ached at the look on her face. As if someone had kicked her puppy and told her there was no Santa Claus. Sad and hurt and vulnerable. Immediately he crossed the room and folded her into his arms, kissing the top of her head as she slid her arms around his waist and pressed her face to his chest. He stroked her back with one hand, cradling her head with the other.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’ve got you and I’m not going anywhere.”

She took a shuddering breath and he tightened his arms around her, wishing he could take the hurt, the fear, the sadness for her. Because he would gladly shoulder it all for her if it would mean she was OK.

“I hate this. I feel like I’m stuck. If I quit, they win. If I don’t, this keeps happening.”

“I know.” He pressed another kiss to the top of her head. He wished he had something more to say, but she was right.

“Sean, I…” She pulled back slightly to look up at him. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” He pulled her back into his chest, not wanting to let her go, not even for a second. Because right there, in that moment, she was safe. She was his, and she was safe.

“Where am I supposed to go? I don’t want to stay here, and I’m kind of off hotels right now.” She looked up at him again and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“And hotels are still too public. We don’t know what kind of connections Sacrosanct has. It could potentially be easy for them to find out your location.”

“So where should we go?” She chewed her bottom lip, her eyes huge with worry.

“For tonight we can stay at my place. It’s very secure, and I know I can keep you safe there.”

“And we’d be alone.” She pressed her face into his chest, the move both sweet and sexy.

“Mmm. We would.”

“I really, really don’t want to sleep alone tonight. Not after all of this. I want to feel you beside me all night.”

The idea of spending the night holding Sierra made him feel as though he were standing in the sun after months of cold, it was so warm and welcome.

“Cops are here,” Zack called up the stairs, and Sean led Sierra back down to the kitchen.

“Are you guys OK?” Antonio stood at the island, surveying the damage and taking notes. A forensic photographer took pictures of everything, while a woman dusted for fingerprints. Two uniformed cops were talking to Zack, who was leading them toward the garage so they could access the security camera footage.

“Yeah, we’re OK,” said Sean.

“I heard about the bomb. Scary shit.”

“It was.” Sierra’s voice was quiet, and her eyes had a hollow look to them. Sean knew she was remembering, and he wanted to pull her into his arms. He settled for laying a hand on her arm. Her eyebrows shot up, as though something had just occurred to her. “You know, I think this means that we can definitively rule Jack out as a suspect. He was at the gala, and he was injured in the bombing.”

“He was?” asked Sean.

She nodded. “I saw him on the other side of the room with blood coming from one ear. He looked pretty dazed.”

“Hey, did you see this note?” The forensic photographer came over, a piece of paper pinched delicately between his gloved thumb and forefinger. Sierra shook her head.

“Where did you find it?” asked Antonio.

“It was stabbed into the cutting board over there with a knife. I took pictures before I removed it.”

Sierra peered at the note, her brow furrowing as she read.

If Choices wins that grant, you’ll end up like the animals on your bed. You, and everyone you care about. Your friends. Your family. Everyone. So back off now or face the consequences of your choices.

“The grant,” she whispered, and then looked up at everyone. “Choices is applying for a major government grant, and so is another organization called the Pregnancy Support Center. What if this isn’t Sacrosanct at all, but the PSC?”

Antonio nodded, studying the note. “It’s worth looking into, for sure. How much is the grant worth?”

“Fifty million dollars.”

Antonio let out a low whistle. “People have done worse for a lot less money.”

“Right, but what are the chances that this other organization would bomb the gala?” asked Sean, pushing a hand through his hair.

“That does seem in line with Sacrosanct’s MO.” Antonio nodded, drumming his fingers on his notepad. “But that information about the PSC is good. We’ll look into it, see what we can find out.”

“And I’ll get Clay on it too. See what he can dig up.” Sean turned his attention to Sierra. “Go pack a bag, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Chapter 20

T
he elevator doors opened onto the fourth floor of Sean’s condo building, and he smiled that lopsided smile—Sierra’s favorite smile—as he squeezed her hand and led her down the hall. Once they’d finished giving their statements to the police, she’d quickly gathered up a few things in an overnight bag and they’d left. Zack had stayed behind at the house, watching for any suspicious activity. On the short drive over, she’d answered dozens of text messages from worried friends and family who’d heard about the bombing on the news, assuring everyone that she was unhurt.

Sean unlocked the door to number 410 and pushed it open, ushering her in ahead of him. With easy familiarity he shut the door behind him, flipped the dead bolt, punched his code into the alarm, turned on the lights, and dropped his keys onto a table beside the front door, all in a series of fast, fluid motions.

“Oh. Sean, this is so nice.” She toed off her heels, her feet practically crying in relief, and padded into the condo across the gleaming black walnut floor. The kitchen was immediately to her right, dark-gray cabinets lining the walls and framing the stainless steel appliances. Light-gray granite countertops complemented the black subway-tile backsplash.

Moving past the kitchen, she walked into the large, open living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall, with sliding doors giving access to a balcony. A flat-screen TV dominated the wall to her left, surrounded by built-in shelves stuffed with books. She stepped closer to study them, tracing her fingers over the spines. One shelf was overflowing with what looked like mysteries and thrillers, another with science fiction paperbacks. Cookbooks, sports biographies, and a variety of military, political, and law enforcement memoirs lined other shelves. More fiction filled the remaining ones, a mix of hardcovers and paperbacks of various genres. Facing the TV sat a dark-blue sectional, and she noticed a neat stack of magazines piled on the coffee table in front of it, issues of
Sports Illustrated
and
Men’s Health
.

Just when she’d thought she couldn’t be more attracted to him, Sierra found out he was a reader. The sudden image of sitting cuddled up with him on that big sectional, wearing sweats and reading, curled through her, warming her like a shot of whiskey.

It was wholly and completely different from Jack’s place, which was huge and showy, almost ostentatious in its over-the-top decor and expensive…well, expensive everything. Not to mention almost completely devoid of books. But this…it was airy, yet cozy. Sleek, yet comfortable. She’d never really felt fully at home at Jack’s, always feeling as though she were in a museum, lots of pretty things to look at, but not to touch. But Sean’s place was immediately appealing and welcoming.

Maybe she felt that way because it was
Sean’s
, and everything about him was appealing and welcoming. She spun to face him and saw that he’d taken off his shoes and tuxedo jacket and was loosening his bow tie.

“Do you mind if I have a shower? I want to wash this night off of me.”

“No problem.” He pointed to the hallway that led away from the living room. “Bathroom’s on the right, towels are in the cabinet under the sink. Are you hungry? I can make us something to eat.”

She thought about it for a second and was surprised to find she was, so she nodded. “Actually, I am. Thank you.”

“Take your time.”

She grabbed her bag and headed down the hall, feeling as though she were in some kind of wonderful, safe, cozy cocoon. She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. It featured a large walk-in shower with a gleaming glass door, tiles the color of linen covering the floor and the interior walls of the shower. She reached in and turned it on, cranking the faucet as hot as it would go, wanting to scald everything away and scrub at her skin until she was shiny and new, and not someone running on the fumes of fear and adrenaline.

She pulled a couple of white towels from the vanity and slung them over the towel rack before stepping under the spray. She tipped her head up, closing her eyes as the water pelted her skin. It felt so good that she wasn’t sure how long she stood like that.

In typical guy fashion, the only two toiletries Sean had in his shower were a bottle of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner and a bar of Zest. She washed her hair and did her best with the soap, missing her loofah and body wash. Men had no idea what they were missing.

She stepped out of the shower and toweled off, pulling on a T-shirt and yoga pants. She twisted her wet hair up into a messy bun as she walked.

While she’d been in the shower using up the entire building’s hot water supply, Sean had changed into worn jeans and a blue T-shirt and had made them each a grilled cheese sandwich with bacon. Two plates sat beside the stove.

“That smells so good. Have you got any ketchup?” she asked, opening his fridge, which was pretty bare.

“You want ketchup for your sandwich?”

“Yup.” She saw a bottle of Heinz at the back and snagged it. When she turned to face him, he was staring at her with one eyebrow cocked. She pointed at him with the bottle. “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” She squirted a little mound of ketchup on her plate and put the bottle back in the fridge. “Like this,” she said, picking up half her sandwich and dunking the point of it in the ketchup. She took a bite and closed her eyes. “So good,” she mumbled around the big mouthful she’d taken.

Still eyeing her skeptically, he picked up his own sandwich and tentatively dunked a tiny part of it in her ketchup. He took a bite and chewed, his eyebrows shooting up. “That actually is pretty good,” he mumbled, dunking his sandwich again and taking another bite. He set his sandwich down and picked up both plates, heading into the living room. They settled next to each other on the sectional, plates in their laps.

“Stick with me, I’ll show you all kinds of things,” she teased, dunking and biting again. That earned her a hot, intrigued look.

“I don’t doubt it.” He winked and dunked his own sandwich in her ketchup again, taking another bite. He grabbed the remote from the coffee table. “You mind if I put the news on?”

“No, go ahead. I want to see too.”

He turned the TV on and flipped to CNN, which was covering the bombing with a blaring “breaking news” headline. A reporter was on the scene summarizing what had happened.

“The bombing of the Choices gala here at the Ritz-Carlton happened about three hours ago. A total of seven bombs were detonated inside the ballroom and in its vicinity. There have been no reports of any deaths so far, but dozens of people are injured, some critically. The hotel has been evacuated while the LAPD bomb squad investigates. There is a heavy police presence downtown tonight, but there have not been any reports of additional threats.

“The attacks are being attributed to radical right-wing protest group Sacrosanct, who posted a video online just moments ago taking credit for the bombing. Police are investigating and are asking anyone with information to please come forward. Police are also asking the public to stay away from the downtown district as a precaution.”

Sean turned the volume down as the reporter continued to talk, giving background information about Sacrosanct and Choices and speculating about the bombings. Sierra stared at the screen, feeling numb.

“We were so lucky.” She swallowed the last of her sandwich, forcing it down.

Sean took her plate and set it on the coffee table with his. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“
You
could’ve been hurt.” The idea that he could’ve been seriously injured—or worse—was almost too much. Her chest knotted tightly and she reached for him. She kissed him, softly at first, but it quickly turned into something deep and hungry. He pulled her into his lap, and she straddled his hips.

“I’m OK,” he whispered, stroking a hand up and down her back.

“I hate how much danger this puts you in.” Fear threatened to swallow her whole. Not fear of Sacrosanct, but the fear of losing Sean. Yes, he was strong and smart and capable, but awful things happened every single day. And she knew she couldn’t handle losing him. Not when she’d just found him. When they’d just found each other. And although what was happening between them was new, she knew it was different. Special. Rare.

She was falling in love with him.