“Agreed. But it doesn’t explain where the grenade came from.”
She stopped at the base of the steps, then turned to face him. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t feel like I’m in danger. This isn’t an area of town where many exciting things happen, you know?”
Colin paused his ongoing visual scan of the museum grounds and nearby parking lot to focus on the woman standing in front of him. He felt a tug in his chest, part of an ingrained need to protect someone who might be in danger. Twelve years of doing that in various capacities in the Service didn’t simply vanish with the change of position.
“I’m glad to hear that. I also know it’s true that getting hit by a stun grenade can be mentally and physically traumatizing, despite its less-than-lethal status. I know you’ve said you don’t feel like you’re in danger, but I’ve also noticed you looking over your shoulder.”
Ginny shifted her weight and trained her gaze on the sidewalk. “It’s silly, right? It was probably a prank, and now I can’t help but feel like I’m being watched. I keep hearing the metallic clink of that thing hitting the wall, rolling toward us...” She broke off, eyes unfocused.
Colin knew that look. She’d retreated into herself, reliving the moment. “Ginny. Professor Anderson.” He touched her shoulder and her eyes came back into focus, angry at first, then softening as he took his hand away. Her expression, so familiar from last night, reminded him of when he’d accidentally brushed the bumpy red scarring on her cheek. He couldn’t see it now—she’d pulled some of her hair up into a messy bun and left the rest to frame her face.
“It’s going to be all right.” He tried to smile to put her at ease, but the gesture felt tight and insincere. “I won’t lie to you, though. I do worry that you might be in danger and I’d like to look out for you, since I have the training and ability to do so. At least until the police have more information on what happened last night.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need another babysitter.”
“Another? Well, I’m not suggesting you do. It makes me nervous that we may have an individual on or around campus with access to serious weaponry, though.”
Ginny scoffed and stepped away from him, continuing her journey toward the parking lot and her car. “I think you’re blowing this out of proportion. We don’t have all the facts and you’re acting like there’s some big scheme at play to hurt me. Need I remind you that the librarian is the one in the hospital, not me?”
“Under constant surveillance from hospital staff. It’s not my intention to cause unnecessary stress, but I want to be up-front with you about my concerns.”
She pressed her lips together, then sighed. “I’m only going from here to my office for now. I teach a class later today and I have a meeting with a historical consultant from the Kingdom of Amar. Then I’ll probably go to the library if it’s reopened, and head home. That’s it. Everywhere will be public, and I’ll bring a Foot Patrol student along if I need to go anywhere after dark or into any locked-up areas. Does that sound safe enough?”
Under normal circumstances, yes, but if his time in the Secret Service’s Presidential Protection Division had taught him anything, it was that threats tended to lurk where the average person least expected them.
“Not particularly. At least let me see you back to campus safely.” He noticed she’d begun straining under the weight of the large satchel in her arms. “Can I carry that bag to your car for you?”
She shook her head and tightened her grip around it. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said in the past few minutes, but no. I can’t allow you to carry it. I’m under agreement with the museum that I will not allow the bag to leave my person unless it’s locked up safely in my department’s archaeology lab. And it can’t go beyond the grounds of the museum or college. It’s kind of you to offer, though.”
“What’s so important about the bag?” A growing frustration at her lack of urgency took over and he flicked two fingers against the bag’s handles. He realized his mistake the moment his fingers made contact. Ginny glared at him and it occurred to him that he’d just done the same thing to her that she’d done to him—dismissed her expertise about handling her chosen profession. “Ginny, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Have a lovely day, Mr. Tapping. I assume you can find your way back to campus.”
He watched as she headed toward her car, her steps sure and confident. He’d handled that in all the wrong ways, and she was under no obligation to accept his offer to look out for her. It was never easy to protect someone who didn’t want protecting. He’d have to make a compromise here and keep an eye on her from a distance for today. As soon as she was safely inside her car, he’d run back to the college—he could use the opportunity to scope out potential threat areas, anyway—and rejoin her in her office to try apologizing again.
The woman had to be feeling bruised and battered after last night, so he couldn’t blame her for becoming irritated by his assertions. Clearly whatever she had inside that satchel held enough importance for her to ignore the pain, get out of bed and haul herself down to the museum.
Colin continued to scan the area until Ginny reached her car at the edge of the parking lot. He began to relax as she made her way to the passenger side of the little blue hatchback—to secure the heavy bag on the seat beside her, he guessed—but the loud roar of an engine springing to life somewhere nearby sent him back into alert mode.
And then he saw it. A white cube van sped down the parking lot aisle, right toward Ginny.
Colin’s stomach lurched, first out of concern for how fast the driver was going in a parking lot, and then a second time when he grew sure the van wasn’t headed toward an exit. It sped toward Ginny, who had her back to the parking lot as she secured her bags in the car.
Colin didn’t waste time asking why or how or whether his suspicion even made sense. He sprang toward her with a burst of speed, grateful he’d kept up his physical training despite being out of the Service these past few years. If only he had his sidearm on hand, he’d have the van incapacitated in seconds without breaking a sweat. Short sprints and lightning-fast reaction times made all the difference when on protective detail.
It took a fraction of a second for Colin to recognize that he was too far away to reach her in time. He kept sprinting as the cube van pulled alongside her. The side door slid open and a man with a black hood pulled low over his face jumped out of the van and grabbed Ginny’s waist from behind.
Colin shouted a split second before Ginny’s scream rent the air. The man pulled her out of the car and covered her mouth, but her hands remained latched to the ceiling grab handle above the door. Smart woman, Colin thought. Her quick reaction would buy him enough time to reach her.
Except that when he drew within several yards of the van, a second hooded assailant jumped out. He pointed a gun in Colin’s direction, but Colin was too close and the man’s reaction time too slow. Colin ducked as he approached, hoping that the hoodlum didn’t have the foresight to fire. He grabbed the gunman’s wrist, then yanked it in toward his chest and twisted, forcing the gun down and out of the man’s hand. The gun clattered to the ground as Colin used the force of an upper-elbow blow to send the man reeling backward, clutching his jaw.
He risked a glance at Ginny, who—on seeing Colin’s approach—had released her grip on the car and twisted around in her attacker’s grasp to claw at the man’s face. The man now had her wrists locked in his meaty hands as Ginny attempted to kick at him anywhere she could reach.
Colin