Page 44 of The Bodyguard

Sawyer pressed his lips together. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and pretended to laugh. “Married to the job. I’ll never be like Hagan, Chance, or Liam. It’ll just be Camden and me, single until the end of days.”

She’d never seen Sawyer fake a smile and force laughter. He wasn’t all that good at it. “If I get dressed, do you want to go to the range and practice?”

According to the guys, the shooting facilities were one of the best parts of Jared Westin’s hotel headquarters. That wasn’t an amenity that she enjoyed. Lap pool and saunas? Check. World-class dining? Check. Training facilities for ACES? Nothing but the best. She used Titan’s gym. Sometimes, she’d watch their tactical training. But she’d never had a reason to go to the gun range. Until tonight.

“Are you up for it after your spa night?” he asked. “Or do you have some kind of lotion routine that will take hours?”

She laughed. “So youdoknow a thing or two about the secret lives of women?”

“Ha.” Awkwardly, he checked his phone and stood up. “You know what? I didn’t realize how late it was. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were up to.”

“It’s okay. I don’t have a lotion routine.” Shooting guns hadn’t been how she envisioned spending the end of the night, but she didn’t want Sawyer to leave.

He rechecked the time. “It’s late.”

Late nights were never a bother before. If she wanted to run errands at night, Sawyer had accompanied her. Arbitrary timelines never confined their social schedules. “Did I say something to upset you?”

“Nah, I’m just exhausted.” He pushed off the couch and headed for the door. “Good night.”

“Sawyer?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Really, Ange. I shouldn’t have shoved my way into—”

“You didn’t. I let you in.”

“And now you can let me out.” He turned around but still retreated another step. “I’m tired. That’s all. It’s been a roller coaster of a day, and it just hit me like a Mack truck.”

She didn’t believe him. “I may be a newbie in the field, but even I know we need to communicate well.”

“We do, Angela,” he said, taking another step back, “and everything’s fine.”

Her lips flattened. “That’s a load of BS, my friend.”

His head lolled back as though it were too heavy to hold up. Sawyer stared at the ceiling for a long minute. “I thought of something that has nothing to do with you or this job.” He crossed a hand over his heart. “I swear.”

Then, with a reminder to deadbolt her door, he was gone.

Angela replayed the conversation in her mind and didn’t see where she’d gone wrong. She had a busy, abnormal family. He had a happy one. She’d worn a mud mask. He and Camden were perpetual bachelors.

Angela deadbolted the door and dragged herself toward her bedroom. She could go to the gun range and practice. That would show Sawyer she meant business, that he could take her seriously. But the range held no interest now that he wouldn’t be by her side. Her bed was calling.

She cinched the robe sash tighter and crawled under the covers. The bedroom was her sanctuary. Jared had let her work with an interior designer to furnish her apartment. After living on a cot in a fenced-in cage in a warehouse for the better part ofher twenties, she’d painstakingly chosen bright colors, luxurious fabrics, and plants that she couldn’t kill.

But, as she forced her eyes closed, the carefully appointed room felt lonely. Abandoned. Sawyer had left disingenuously, and she didn’t know why.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Angela’s phone rang. For a single, panicked moment, she thought she’d slept through her alarm. She scrambled to answer the call despite the ungodly hour. “Hello?”

“Up and at ’em,” Sawyer demanded as though it weren’t the middle of the night.

“What?” She fought the invading wakefulness. This had to be a nightmare. “It’s still dark outside.” Not even a crack of daylight shone from around her bedroom curtains. “Go away.”

“You can sleep when you’re dead.”

God, what time was it? She’d been up all night, trying to fall asleep. Now that she had, Sawyer was torturing her. Angela fell back into bed, phone pressed to her ear, and grumbled. “What do you want?”

“Breakfast.”

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