Page 110 of The Bodyguard

Good. Because Sawyer was finished with everyone except his woman. He pocketed the phone and entered her room. The lights were dim, and her eyes were closed. He quietly took his place by her side.

Today could have gone so differently. There had been too many close-to-worst-case scenarios. He could have lost her. His throat ached.

“Hey,” she whispered, slowly waking from her nap. Angela held out her hand. “When did you get back?”

He laced his fingers with hers. “A couple of minutes ago.”

She tugged him closer. “I won’t break if you lay down with me.”

But he might. A distant, rational voice tried to tell him he was far too attached to the woman in this bed. That logic quickly disappeared, buried under his much more selfish, possessive thoughts.

Sawyer eased onto the side of her bed. She nuzzled close, groaning in discomfort but keeping him by her side. “I need you next to me.”

Sawyer stroked her hair as she fell back asleep. There was nowhere else he would be.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Mylene perched on the edge of the bed in her hotel room. The television remote weighed heavy in her hand. She didn’t have a TV in her house. Even though she was a prisoner at home, she missed her bedroom and kitchen. She missed her routine too. While there were many places in the house where she couldn’t lift her gaze and face Mark and Tabby, Mylene missed knowing they were close.

Without their pictures watching—scolding—her and without work, she didn’t know what to do with herself. Mylene always worked. Even when Pham had forced her on vacations, the trips were work. For so many years, every minute of her life had been programmed. Now, alone and locked in a hotel room, she had only a television.

The autonomy was terrifying. She needed to block her wandering thoughts. Mylene turned on the TV. An advertisement for a hotel amenity appeared. The commercial was too bright and loud. She quickly pressed the buttons on the remote. The channels switched. Cartoons. The figures moved too fast. A headache pounded behind her eyes.

She changed the channel again and again. Commercials. Television drama.The news. Finally, something normal that she could stomach. Years had passed since she’d seen anything but the news. Reporters always talked in the same voice, using the same cadence as a lullaby. It was comforting and as close to Mylene’s normal world as she could get.

The news report shifted from an earthquake overseas to a news conference led by Senator Samantha Sorenson. Sorenson was one of their archenemies. Mylene’s nerves calmed. Listening to Sorenson was like her work, and maybe Mylene could handle the unexplained change of location as long as something familiar, like Sorenson, was at the forefront of her mind.

The screen chyron read, “2nd assassination attempt on Sorenson daughter.”

Mylene didn’t have to listen to the reporter to know who had been suspected of ordering the hit. The screen flashed to B-roll footage. Pham’s arrest. The federal courthouse in Northern Virginia. Prosecutors posturing for the media. Mylene wanted Sorenson to suffer just like Pham.

Was the attempt on Angela’s life the reason why they moved Mylene from her house? No one had known where Angela Sorenson had been, and then she almost died an hour away from Mylene’s house?

The screen shifted to the last known photo of Angela Sorenson. She was about the same age as Mylene, whose stomach began to roil. She wanted to erase Angela’s face but couldn’t change the channel. Pham wanted to hurt the Senator. He wanted to make sure Angela wouldn’t testify against him. How could she be a witness against Pham? Mylene saw time and time again how well Pham treated Angela.

But… Angela didn’t deserve to die.

Did she?

Well, Senator Sorenson deserved for her daughter to die like Pham’s daughter had died. Everyone involved with Quy Long’s death was guilty and should be punished. That was why Pham had taken Mylene. She needed to be punished. She had done a horrible, terrible thing while following orders to relay messages. Pham had said so many times that his daughter would be alive if Mylene hadn’t done her job.

So… Angela Sorenson should die.

Shouldn’t she?

Yes? No? Both possibilities made sense. A headache thudded behind Mylene’s eyes. She turned off the television and crawled onto the bed. They never should have taken her fromher house. She didn’t want to think about the real world that believed she murdered her husband and sister.

Again, Mylene’s stomach lurched. Her thoughts raced. Angela would die or testify. But what if she didn’t do either? Would Mylene be able to go back to her house?

She could go back home. Hope for the ordinary surged in her chest, and Mylene bolted upright on the bed. She could have her house back if Angela didn’t testify. If Mylene could just speak to Angela and explain, then Mylene’s life would return to normal again. If Angela disappeared again, if she promised not to testify… maybe Pham would be released.

If he was released, maybe Pham would recognize that Mylene’s penance had gone on long enough. Perhaps they would take the pictures down in her house. She would like to keep one or two as a reminder of the family she loved, not the prison wardens they became.

Mylene would be free if Angela listened to her.

How would she find Angela Sorenson? She didn’t have her computer to do research—but she did have a phone in her hotel room. They hadn’t taken it away. Why would they? Mylene would never disobey.

But would they get mad at her for using the phone? Definitely—unless they knew how Mylene was helping.

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