A Bodyguard to Remember Read Online Free PDF Page B

and I held the doors, Hope leaning against me sleepily. Fortunately, we didn’t have far to go. Though shorter than his sister, Boone is heavier than he looks. Merrick cradled him gently and didn’t seem to mind the weight.
    “Do you have kids, Sergeant?” I asked, feeling suddenly sentimental.
    “A grown son. His mother and I separated when he was around Hope and Boone’s age, but I had joint custody when I wasn’t working out of town.”
    Zeke was still at my new laptop. He started guiltily when we entered and I noticed he was in the middle of one of my short stories.
    “Sorry,” he said blushing. “I had to check each file to make sure it didn’t have anything embedded in it before I transferred it and I came across your stories and started reading. I hope you don’t mind.”
    “I suppose not,” I replied. “I wrote them to be read—most of them, in any case.”
    Some of them were little better than daydreams on paper. I went through a fan-fiction phase when Seth and I separated. For a while I had a hot and heavy time-travelling romance with Messieurs Spock, Data, and Odo. If he found one of those stories in my archive . . . I felt myself blush.
    “Maybe we should all get some sleep now,” said Merrick.
    I nodded. Boone was already tucked up, his shoes and socks beside the bed. Hope had disappeared into the bathroom with her nightshirt. I was ready to collapse—from exhaustion and embarrassment—but I tried not to let it show. Zeke obviously had something he needed to tell me. He was standing by the desk, face pinched and serious.
    “Ma’am,” he started. Then he stopped for a moment as though choosing his words. “Ms. Hartley, I have to examine all your files, but I don’t have to pay attention to content if you don’t want me to. But I’d like to read your stories if you don’t mind.” He gave me a sheepish grin. “I should have mentioned this before I started reading.”
    At that moment he seemed far too young to be an RCMP investigator. He reminded me of Boone when he sought forgiveness instead of asking permission.
    “Go ahead.” I sighed. “Just keep in mind, some are works in progress and the ones in the NFP file are fan fiction—Not For Publication.”
    “I don’t suppose you write Star Trek fan fiction?”
    I felt myself relax. He wouldn’t have asked if he’d already reached my archived files.
    “Do Klingons butt heads?” I responded. “Actually, I wrote a Star Trek novel, but I couldn’t sell it. However, I would prefer if you didn’t pay attention to the stuff in zipped files. It’s old stuff—not my best work.”
    “Fair enough.” He grinned. “Thank you, ma’am.”
    “Say good night, Zeke,” Merrick said, pushing him towards the door.
    “Good night, Zeke,” Zeke and I said in unison.
     
    *    *    *
     
    I had a bizarre, Looney Tunes-type dream with the Big Bad Wolf trying to blow my house down with Acme-supplied sticks of TNT. I awoke to a rattling sound. Someone was trying to get through the door.
    Boone woke up. At some point he had snuck into bed with me.
    “Wass’appening?” he slurred, half asleep.
    “Shh,” I said in an urgent whisper. “Get into the bathroom, quick. Hope!” I hissed. I grabbed my daughter’s foot and shook it. “Get into the bathroom now!”
    I picked up the room’s portable phone and my cell phone as I hurried them along. I dialed Merrick’s room on the portable then *9-1-1 on my cell while herding my children.
    “Lock the door. Duck down in the tub,” I told them, shoving them into the small room. Hope switched on the light, but I turned it off again. “Keep the light off and be quiet . . . I love you.”
    I closed the door and heard the lock click. There was a moment of silence, then a loud slam. Terrified, I hid in the open closet opposite the vanity sink in the alcove outside the bathroom.
    In the next moment of silence, I heard Zeke’s voice over the phone.
    “Help,” I gasped. On the cell phone, I got