to Andrew. “Do you want me to ask?”
“Do you trust them?” Andrew asked.
Emma nodded. “With my life.”
“How about with the life of your child?” He captured Emma’s gaze and held it.
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Then yes. If I could get someone on a temporary basis that is trustworthy, it will give me time to look for a full-time bodyguard.”
Deputy McGregor closed his notepad and slid it into his pocket. “Tell you what... We’re having dinner at McGregor Manor tomorrow night. Why don’t you and Leigha come? You can discuss it with some of the members of the SOS team then.”
Andrew frowned. “SOS?”
“Stealth Operations Specialists,” Emma clarified. “They’re like the FBI and CIA, only better. Somehow they’ve opened a branch here in Cape Churn. You should come. You can meet all of them, and maybe by tomorrow night they’ll have an answer for you. Or they might have a suggestion of who to hire for the job of bodyguard to you and Leigha.” Emma wrapped a bandage around his hand. “Keep that out of water for a couple of days. In a week you can come in and I’ll remove the stitches. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Emma gave him the routine discharge instructions and a prescription for antibiotics and sent him out to the lobby, where Leigha and Mrs. Purdy waited.
Leigha ran to him and hugged him around the legs. “I was so scared.”
“I’m fine.” He patted the child’s head and lifted her up on his uninjured arm. “Since we’re in town, why don’t we get some ice cream at the Seaside Café?”
Leigha clapped her hands together. “Yes, please.”
The smile on Leigha’s face made warmth spread across Andrew’s chest. He never ceased to be amazed at how much one little human being could make him feel more important than an entire office building of employees.
He vowed to keep this little girl safe, no matter the cost. If it meant hiring a bodyguard, he’d do it. But it had to be someone special. Someone he could trust completely. There weren’t many people he knew who fit that bill. How was he going to trust a stranger to fill that role?
Dixie Reeves pulled into the parking lot of McGregor Manor. The lovely old home perched on the edge of a cliff outside the small community of Cape Churn, Oregon. In just under twenty-four hours she’d gone from being unemployed to having a job, to getting her first assignment.
What she was supposed to do as a bodyguard to a rich man was beyond her. As a squad leader in the Army, she’d been responsible for her soldiers, the first all-female squad of Airborne Rangers.
She’d done her best as a leader among her peers until one of their special operations had gone bad. They’d been caught in the middle of a firefight. Dix, manning a .60-caliber submachine gun, had remained behind, laying down cover fire for her squad, allowing them to escape. When she’d run out of bullets, she hadn’t had time to put her handgun to her head before she was captured.
Dix shook off the memory of the week she’d spent in hell in an enemy camp where she’d been humiliated, tortured and beaten repeatedly until the Navy SEALs were sent in to extract her.
That was over three years ago. Her life had changed dramatically. Processed out of the Army, she’d spent two of those years as a member of the Mixed Martial Arts fighting community. But the nightmares still lingered.
Dix stared at the lush landscape damp from the previous night’s mist, so foreign to the deserts of Afghanistan and Las Vegas she might as well have been on another planet.
From what she’d been told, the building in front of her had once been a rich man’s home, but had been turned into a bed-and-breakfast by the remaining members of the family. As a home, it was larger than anything Dix had ever lived in. As a bed-and-breakfast, it was quaint and had a heck of a view of Cape Churn.
Her new boss, Royce Fontaine, had tracked her down to her small apartment in Las Vegas, where she’d been sorting through what was left of her belongings after donating most of them to a local women’s shelter. He’d said he’d been following her career. At first, she’d assumed he’d meant her career as an MMA fighter. She’d done pretty well, winning one championship after another, focusing all of her anger and frustration into her fists.
Her opponents didn’t have a chance. The women she’d fought had never been through the intense training she’d survived as one of the first women to pass the Army Ranger training program. Nor had they been tortured in an enemy camp. The anger had fueled her fists until one day she’d gone too far and left an opponent comatose with a very slim chance of recovery.
Royce thought she’d be a good fit for his team. Dix wasn’t so sure. But with no other skills to add to her résumé, what else was she fit for? She might have gotten a job as a security guard at one of the casinos, but the noise bothered her, making her head ache and the tensions to multiply.
So, now she was going to be a member of the SOS team. What exactly did an agent with the Stealth Operations Specialists do? Royce had told her, Anything that needed to be done.
Then he’d gotten word from one of his other agents that a wealthy man needed bodyguard services on a temporary basis while he interviewed and hired one he could trust.
“But what does a bodyguard do?” she’d asked Fontaine.
And he’d answered, “Whatever needs to be done.”
“Not helping,” she muttered as she walked toward the bed-and-breakfast. Hopefully the other members of the SOS team could shed light on her responsibilities. She couldn’t afford to lose this job. It might be the only offer she got, and the pay was good. As far as she could tell, all she had to do was keep a rich dude alive.
How hard could that be in the States? They didn’t have Taliban or Islamic State fighters...at least, not that she knew of.
“Hello. May I help you?” a female voice called out from the front door of the manor.
Dix shaded her eyes and squinted. “Is this the McGregor Bed-and-Breakfast?”
“It is.” An auburn-haired woman stepped out onto the porch and smiled. “I’m Molly McGregor, one of the owners. Do you need a place to stay tonight?”
“I don’t think so,” Dix said. “I’m supposed to meet someone here.”
The woman frowned. “Meet someone? Anyone in particular?” she asked, her smile warm and welcoming.
“Royce Fontaine sent me. Does that name ring a bell?”
Ms. McGregor’s eyes widened. “You’re D. Reeves?”
Dix nodded. “Dixie Reeves.”
The bed-and-breakfast owner clapped a hand over her mouth, smothering what sounded suspiciously like a giggle. She dropped her hand, a sparkle dancing in her eyes. “We’ve been
