Page 60 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
“Jesus,” I mutter.
Huck sees it too. “They’re already on her.” He pulls the SUV to a hard stop half a block away. “You going in?”
“No,” I snap. “Not yet. We’re too visible. If they catch us dragging her out, it becomes a story.”
“They’ve alreadygotthe story. Mom takes daughter for ice cream. Why the hell is that such a big deal to these fuckers?”
It’s a good question, but I don’t answer. I’m already tapping into our private comm. “Chief, do you have visual?”
Her voice clicks in. “I’m on the north side. I see the shop. Press count is five, maybe six. No entry yet, but they’re posturing. Not letting her out.”
“Copy. We hold until we know she’s safe.”
“Assuming she doesn’t bolt first,” Huck mutters.
I look through the windshield again. Bailey hasn’t moved. She’s talking to Maeve, but her body stays between her daughter and the window.
I’m furious because I told her this would happen. I told her she needed to loop us in. That wecan’t do our jobsif she keeps deciding when to disappear. That David isn’t the only predator out there.
I clench my jaw, watching her through the glare of flashing lights. “Come on, Bailey,” I whisper. “Tell me you’ve got this.”
But the longer I wait? The more I’m sure she doesn’t.
Chief’s voice cuts back in through my earpiece. “Still no movement from her.”
“She’s talking to Maeve,” I say. “Trying to keep her calm.”
Wesley chimes in from base. “Paps aren’t trying to push in, but they’re forming a tighter ring. One of them has video. I’m trying to get it suppressed.”
“They’re blocking every exit,” Chief adds. “If she tries to leave now, it’ll be all over the internet in ten seconds.”
I already know that. I also know she’s not going to call. Not because she’s defiant. Because she thinks if she admits she needs us now, it means she never really had control in the first place. And that’s what she’s terrified of—losing controlagain.
I rake a hand through my hair, watching her through the shop window like I can will her to look my way. Just once. Just long enough to tell her I’m here.
But she doesn’t. She keeps Maeve’s face tucked close to hers, keeps herself angled just right so that every flash from the sidewalk hits her back, not her daughter. She’s doing exactly what she thinks she has to do.
And I hate that it’s working. Because she shouldn’t have to do italone.
Huck says it first. “We should just go in.”
“No,” I bite out. “Not yet.”
“You’re really gonna let her sit in there like that?”
“I’m not letting her do anything.”
He doesn’t push again, because he knows what this is.
This isn’t restraint. It’s respect. Twisted and messy andfucking infuriating. If I go in now, all suited up and flanked by security, I rip the mask off everything she was trying to hold together. Iturn this from a mother-daughter errand into a scene. A rescue. A story. I make her look weak, exposed, fragile. A victim.
And if there’s one thing she never wants to be again…
So I wait. And I boil.
And I make a quiet promise to myself, as I watch her eyes flick toward the exit and then away. When she finally walks out of that shop? I’m not going to yell. I’m not going to shame her. I’m just going to remind her what it feels like to be surrounded. To be protected.
To not have to do this alone anymore.
