on your gown. How about you?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I see your point.”
He grabbed the dress and slung it over his arm, bunching up the yards of flowing satin to keep from tripping over it as they headed toward the street.
She sent him a side glance that asked, “Now what?”
Good question. When he’d signed on to be Scofield’s bodyguard, he’d imagined the job would be a cushy assignment, indulging an old friend’s belief that he was being followed, that he needed protection. All Brent had told him was that a business deal had gone sour, and he suspected the other party might try to hurt him. Jake hadn’t asked questions, dismissing Scofield’s concern as paranoia. His first mistake.
And he’d never bargained for extended duty, guarding his client’s bride, a woman whose guileless green eyes and body built for sin were distractions he didn’t need if he wanted to keep them alive.
“We’ll thumb a ride back to town,” he said, answering her unspoken question and trying not to grimace when pain from his knee shot fiery bolts through his leg. “From there, we’ll rent a car to get…wherever.”
“Look, I…I have two tickets to Jamaica in my purse. The plane leaves in three hours. Why don’t we use the tickets to get out of the country and—”
“No.” Jake imagined Paige in a bikini on a white-sand beach with a fruity island drink in her hand, and another blast of heat slammed him in the gut. “Do you think those thugs don’t know where you were headed on your honeymoon?”
She raised her chin, blinked, then frowned her consternation. “But that’s—”
“I guarantee they also know where you live, what you drive, where you eat lunch with your girlfriends, where you buy your four-dollar coffee and what route you use to get to the office.”
Her troubled look grew stormier, an edge of panic creeping into her gaze. Slowing her pace, Paige pressed a hand to her chest and wheezed, her breathing shallow.
“Hey, don’t do that. You’ll hyperventilate.” Jake seized her arms and drilled her with a hard look. “I need you to keep it together for me, all right? ”
She closed her eyes and nodded. Sucking in a few deep breaths, she flexed and balled her hands at her sides, and when she met his gaze again, she seemed in better control.
“I won’t. I’m not going to fall apart on you. I promise. This is just all so overwhelming, so out of the blue. I don’t understand any of it, and—” She cut herself off with another deep inhalation. “I’ll be fine. Really.”
The rumble of a car engine called his attention to the road, where a late-model sedan rolled past. He stepped toward the traffic lane and waved the car down.
“Are you sure hitching’s the best idea? How do we know we can trust them?” she asked.
Jake nodded toward the elderly occupants of the car. “Look at them. What’s not to trust? Besides, if grandma and grandpa do give us trouble, I can take them both down before they know what hit ‘em.”
The elderly driver slowed to a stop and rolled down his window. “You kids all right?”
“We could use a ride into town. We had a bit of car trouble a little ways back.” He hitched his thumb down the road, and when the older man’s gaze drifted to the wedding dress, the blood on Jake’s shirt and the tear tracks on Paige’s cheeks, Jake added, “Our honeymoon’s not off to a very good start. I got a nosebleed and ruined my shirt, then the car broke down.” He glanced at Paige, sending her a silent signal with his eyes, asking for her cooperation. “And my wife is convinced we’re going to miss our flight to Jamaica.”
The older man turned to Paige. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. We’ll take you back to town, and if you call the airline, I bet they could reschedule you for a later flight.”
Paige forced a smile. “I hope so. Everything else has gone wrong today. I’d hate to think we’ll miss our plane.”
Jake opened the back door for Paige, and she climbed into the car. Once they were settled in the sedan, Paige and Jake listened to the older couple regale them with stories of the mishaps from their wedding fifty-two years ago and many of the disagreements since.
As they approached town, their elderly driver turned from the main road onto a side street that led into a residential area.
“Henry, where are you going? This isn’t the right way!” the woman fussed.
“It’s a shortcut.”
Henry’s wife harrumphed. “Shortcut, my fanny. Shortcut is your term for lost. Turn around and go back to the highway.”
Paige sent Jake a worried side glance, and he lifted a corner of his mouth in amusement before returning his attention to the middle-class houses they passed.
“I’m not lost. Stop worrying,” Henry returned.
“That’s what you always say. I’m telling you—”
“Wait a minute,” Jake interrupted, spotting a for-sale sign in one of the front yards. “Stop here.”
Henry stomped the brakes, and the sedan stopped with a lurch. “Something wrong?”
Paige gave Jake a curious look.
“I just remembered that a friend of mine lives on this street.” He opened the car door and tugged on Paige’s hand. “We’ll go to his house, use his phone to call the airline, arrange for a tow truck and so forth.” He tugged harder on his “bride’s” hand, encouraging her compliance. “We appreciate the ride, folks.”
“I can—” their driver started, then fumbled, as Jake hauled Paige’s suitcase from the backseat. “Well, all right. Good luck, kids.”
Jake gave the couple a friendly wave as they drove away, then faced Paige’s confused scowl. “You don’t have a friend in this neighborhood at all. Do you?”
“No.”
“Then why did we get out?”
“Because I found a place for us to lay low until we can regroup and plan our next move.” Jake lifted her suitcase and headed across the street to the small Acadian-style house with the Realtor’s sign in the front yard.
Paige grabbed his arm. “Hang on a minute. Where are—?” Her gaze darted to the for-sale sign then back to him. He could see the wheels turning in her mind. “Whoa! You are not thinking about breaking into this house, are you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking. There are newspapers in the driveway, the grass hasn’t been mowed. It’s obvious the house is vacant.”
He jogged to the backyard, and Paige stumbled to keep up. “I don’t care if it’s vacant! It’s still breaking and entering. I won’t do it!”
Pulling a small army knife from his pocket, Jake got to work jimmying the lock on the back door. “I don’t think you’re in a position to be picky about your accommodations, princess.”
