“You can count on me to protect you, to give my life for you if necessary. That is my job.”
Shane moved in front of Katherine, blocking her way. The music had stopped and all eyes were on the two of them.
“Great, now you’ve brought out the paparazzi, too. So much for hiding in plain sight,” she said just as a camera’s flash blinded her.
Shane trained his eyes on the person who’d taken that picture and that’s when he saw it. There behind the roving photographer, a man dressed as a waiter stood silent, a gun trained on Katherine. In an instant, Shane pushed Katherine to the floor behind the table, threw himself down to shield her and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Everyone down. Now!”
A rush of panic hit the room. Shane held Katherine close, his heartbeat racing to match hers, his prayers asking for protection as he tried to get a line on the shooter.
In spite of the shouts, screams and confusion all around them, the man crouched and moved with purposeful intent, weaving between chairs and tables to finish the job.
And Katherine was the target.
LENORA WORTH
has written more than forty books, most of those for Steeple Hill. She has worked freelance for a local magazine, where she wrote monthly opinion columns, feature articles and social commentaries. She also wrote for the local paper for five years. Married to her high school sweetheart for thirty-five years, Lenora lives in Louisiana and has two grown children and a cat. She loves to read, take long walks, sit in her garden and go shoe shopping.
Assignment: Bodyguard
Lenora Worth
“But they lie in wait for their own blood; they lurk secretly for their own lives. So are the ways of everyone who is greedy for gain; it takes away the life of its owners.”
—Proverbs 1:18–19
To all of my Texas friends, with lots of love.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LETTER TO READER
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
“Who is that handsome man wearing the tux?”
Katherine Barton Atkins thanked the waiter for her mineral water with a twist of lime, then glanced around at the woman who’d just asked that question. Red-haired Trudy Pearson had one elegant eyebrow raised in standard cougar mode while she stared across the crowded ballroom.
“Trudy, every man in the room has on a tux,” Katherine explained, bemused and just a little morose because of Trudy’s need to find a second husband, no matter what.
Some women just couldn’t handle being alone, but Katherine was determined not to be one of those. She couldn’t fault Trudy for trying, though. They were both widows now. Katherine had married her college sweetheart and Trudy had married an older man whom she’d loved with all her heart. And they’d both lost their husbands within six months of each other. After a year of being a widow, Katherine was trying to get on with her life while Trudy was trying to find a replacement. Katherine kept busy searching for something to fill her empty soul, while Trudy kept busy searching for a younger man because she was so afraid of growing old alone.
“Yes, darlin’ Kit,” Trudy replied in her sophisticated drawl, “every man in the room has on a tux, but only that man over there by the parlor fern knows how to wear one.”
Curious, Katherine kept smiling at the people passing by her, then looked in the direction of Trudy’s overly interested gaze, her expression shifting from disdain to dismissal as her gaze caught and held that of the man’s. She took a sip of her cold water, the elegant bracelet watch Trudy had given her for her last birthday dangling down her arm. “Oh, that man wearing the tux. He’s my detail.”
“Excuse me,” Trudy said, almost dropping her sparkling gold evening purse. “Your detail? What exactly does that mean? And I want the details, all of them. He’s positively yummy. And that tuxedo is tailor-made for him and only him.”
Kit touched her chignon then looked over at the tall, dark-haired man who was pretending he wasn’t looking over at her. “My father thinks I need a bodyguard. I told you about those strange hang-up calls and then the cryptic letters I received. He’s just being overly cautious because of this big crowd, I think.”
Trudy glanced over at Katherine’s father, Gerald Barton, who was standing with his wife, Sally Mae, talking to several other people. “Your daddy doesn’t looked worried so why the detail?”
“Oh, he’s not worried—because of the detail. You know my father hires only the best. And rumor has it this one is top of the line.” She didn’t want to give her friend the fact sheet on her bodyguard, nor did she tell Trudy about the feeling that someone had been in her house and office. She’d rather not talk about any of that tonight. She’d rather the bodyguard wasn’t here in the first place.
But her father was a top-level member of CHAIM, the elite private security organization that worked to protect people the world over. That made him a bit tense and paranoid at times. He’d been worried about her since her husband Jacob had died, but when Katherine happened to mention a few unexplained calls and some of her files being moved and shuffled around, her father had gone into overdrive.
Katherine indulged her father because she knew he meant well, but sometimes his protective nature stifled her. Such as tonight.
“Top of the line is the word, darlin’,” Trudy replied, her predatory gaze centered on the man. “He is the very definition of tall, dark and…dangerous.”
Katherine couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s description, but she tended to agree. At least this time, her father had hired a looker. “Yes, that’s him, brought in all the way from London, England. He was hand-picked to look out for me tonight. But I’m trying to ignore him.”
Trudy’s burgundy silk gown rustled as she stepped closer. “British and in a tux. How on earth can you ignore that, do tell?” Then she gave Kit a wry smile that held just a trace of condescension. “Oh, let me guess. You can’t say anything else about it, right?”
Her friend knew the complications of being the widow of a senator. And Trudy also knew that Katherine’s father worked for a mysterious, secretive organization. But Trudy understood discretion and privacy. Besides, it was just too hard to explain right now. “I’d rather not talk about it,” Kit said, completely aware that each time she moved an inch the dashing Sir Shane Warwick, known as the Knight, moved an inch with her. Turning away from the agent who worked for the covert Christian organization, she said, “This is a benefit, Trudy. I need to mingle with our patrons and thank them for their generosity toward the Barton Atkins Foundation.” She put down the