Page 21 of Big Bodyguard
The thug yanking her hair is familiar, the same son of a bitch from the club. He looks up, eyes widening, and pushes Charlieto the ground right before I slam into him like a freight train. We crash to the dirt, fists flying. He swings wild, but I’ve been fighting since before this kid knew how to shave. My knuckles split his lip, my boot crushes his ribs, and I leave him gasping in the dirt.
Charlie’s crumpled by the roadside, breathing hard, dirt smudged across her face. But she doesn’t seem hurt. I made it in time.
The driver panics, slams the doors shut, and guns it down the road, leaving his buddy behind.
Fucking coward.
I don’t chase him. Instead, I crouch low, my hand gripping the thug’s jaw tight enough to make him choke. “Who sent you?”
He spits blood, glaring up at me with empty defiance.
I slam his head into the dirt, lean closer. That’s when I see it—ink peeking from under his collar. A jagged black serpent wrapped around a burning crown.
My blood goes cold. I know that mark. A splinter group that’s tangled with the senator before—contract runners, mercs with no loyalty but cash. Dangerous as hell, but never this bold.
I don’t have time to dig deeper. Charlie needs me.
The sounds of sirens fills the air, headlights bouncing off the trees.
I haul the bastard up by the collar and shove him toward the uniforms who are storming onto the scene. “Keep him breathing,” I bark. “Tattoo on his chest—serpent and crown. He’s not small-time. Get intel fast.”
“Yes, sir,” one officer mutters, hauling the guy back.
But I’m already moving.
The moment I reach Charlie, she throws herself into my arms. Trembling, but alive.
I crush her against my chest, my hand sliding into her hair, holding her like my life depends on it. “I’ve got you, princess. You’re safe.”
She sobs into my neck, and I lower my mouth to her temple in a slow and lingering kiss, wiping her tears away with my thumb.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, my voice rough. “Nobody’s taking you from me. Not while I’m still breathing.”
Her wide brown eyes lift to mine, wet and shimmering. “Jack…I’m sorry—I’ll go with you. I won’t run anymore.”
“Shh.” I press a soft kiss to her mouth, tasting her tears. She presses her body into mine, angling her head as if urging me to deepen the kiss. I oblige, sliding my tongue into her eager mouth. I kiss her slow but deep, reassuring her of my presence. My passion. My love. Even though I don’t say the words.Can’t.
When I finally pull back, I cradle her face in my hands. “Let’s get you home, princess.”
And this time, I mean it.
Chapter Nine
Charlie
The drive back to DC feels like a funeral procession.
Not because it’s slow—Jack drives like the world’s on fire—but because with every mile, I feel myself shrinking back into the person I swore I’d never be again. I know why it’s necessary now, know that the threats against me were real. But I can’t stand knowing that the walls I worked so hard to escape are waiting for me. The polished floors. The suffocating rules. The constant watchful eyes.
And sure enough, when we finally pass the iron gates of my father’s estate, the air gets heavier in my lungs. I feel like I can’t breathe.
The car rolls to a stop in front of the house. Jack doesn’t say a word as he helps me out, just rests a steadying hand against my back as he guides me inside. His touch is firm, impersonal, but God, it still anchors me in ways I can’t explain.
We’re ushered into my father’s private study. The air smells of leather and old books, heavy with power. The fire in the hearth crackles faintly, but it doesn’t warm me. I drop into one of the wingback chairs, trying not to fidget, while Jack stays standing, hands clasped behind his back, looking every bit the soldier he once was.
“Relax, Steele,” I mutter, forcing a smile. “You’re not in uniform anymore.”
His blue eyes flick to me briefly, unreadable, before returning to the door.
