Page 57 of The Bodyguard

“Stay down.”

“I’m fine…”

“Don’t argue,” he snapped.

The look in his eyes stopped her cold. It wasn’t panic. It wasn’t fear. It was precision. Control.

He swept the area around them, called in a lockdown on his comms, and steered her behind the barrier before she had time to blink. Then, and only then, did he let go.

“Someone just tested the building’s perimeter,” he said, low and tight.

“Like before,” she whispered.

He nodded. Except this time, he wasn’t the target. It had been aimed at both of them. And the next time, she knew, it wouldn’t be a warning. Chances were, it would hit its target.

13

MITCH

He had her down, and behind cover before the echo of the shot finished ringing through the garden.

Mitch didn’t think. He reacted. One arm locked around Andi’s waist, the other pulling his weapon as he pivoted hard, using his body to shield hers. He drove her behind the stone balustrade at the garden’s edge, keeping her head down and pressed close to his chest as his eyes swept the perimeter.

The terrace lights flared harsh and bright against the night, but he didn’t blink. Didn’t give the shooter any movement to track. Whoever fired had done it from elevation—distance, too. The sound had cracked wide, not close. A high-angle shot, likely from across the street, maybe higher. They’d aimed high on purpose.

A message.

“Stay still,” he said against her temple.

She didn’t argue.

Cerberus protocols snapped into place within seconds. Coop, posted near the front, confirmed the action through his earpiece. “Shot came from east elevation. No confirmed visual. Crowd is secured. Is Andi safe?”

“Affirmative,” Mitch replied, still scanning. “Initiate hard lockdown. No one in or out.”

Andi’s breathing was shallow against his chest. Not panicked. Controlled. She was shaking, but not from fear—he knew her well enough now to recognize adrenaline when it burned through her system like that.

“Talk to me,” he murmured.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Is anyone else…”

“No injuries. They didn’t intend for it to hit.”

He felt her stiffen. “A warning.”

“Yes.”

Which meant the bastard had planned it, scoped it, timed the shot, and chosen a location with just enough cover to make it count and vanish before anyone could spot them.

Mitch angled his head over the stone lip and scanned the upper floors of the building across the street. No glint of metal. No silhouette. Whoever they were, they were a professional or someone with just enough training to fake it.

He gave the all-clear hand signal to Coop’s shadow team, then stood, pulling Andi up with him. She didn’t ask questions, didn’t try to protest. He liked that about her—when it mattered, she listened.

They got her inside through a service door in the east wing. Cerberus agents were already sweeping the perimeter. The museum was sealed, and the gala was officially over by the time they reached the secure staging area inside.

Andi paced the small back room like a caged animal while Mitch reviewed the feed from the rooftop camera. He’d hoped for a glimpse of the shooter, even just a silhouette. Nothing.

The shot had been surgical. Clean. But deliberately off-target. They didn’t want blood. Not yet. What they wanted was fear.

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