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ovation. She shook her hosts’ hands and sat on the chair on the stage talking to some of the audience who were asking her questions. She sensed Jordan near but couldn’t see him.
    Jordan noted a stealthy movement in one of the side sections, a man getting up and purposely walking towards the stage as if he planned to exit through the side doors of the auditorium, but he moved stealthily past the exit, pausing to watch the crowd around her. Jordan moved quietly, keeping him in his sight, getting as near to him as he could. He was only feet from him when he saw him raise his hand holding a small gun as he approached the stage; Jordan dove, tackled him, and took him down; the gun went off harmlessly, a loud sound scaring the retreating crowd. Taking the gun from the man’s hand was easy; he had been caught by surprise, and he was easily subdued. The campus police and the city police were there in seconds, holding the two of them. They released Jordan as soon as they recognized him. The other man was taken away in handcuffs.
    Jordan turned to find Madison, ashen-faced and trembling, standing on the edge of the stage. She turned away, but not before he saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes. She knew the man who had carried the gun. He was sure of it. Damn . Another problem, and he had been in charge of her protection for less than 24 hours.
    Jordan was so attuned to her that he heard her soft plea. “I think I’m going to pass out, and I’d rather not do it in front of all these people.” Jordan leaped onto the stage gracefully among the confusion of the audience and platform guests as she staggered a bit; he pulled her to him, holding her steady and walked her towards the side of the stage. He knew the moment she fainted; he swept her up into his arms and carried her limp body out. She was light as a feather, and Jordan felt his protective instincts rise to consume him. Her challenge to his dictates was threatening her life; he would have to reined her in.
    He carried her to his car and placed her carefully in the front seat, buckling her in and asking for clearance to get her out of the auditorium area. The Campus police escorted him from the lot and onto the highway. Calling for medical backup to come to him at his home, he whipped into his driveway, turned off the key, and went to her side, unbuckling her and lifting her once again into his arms. She was trying to wake up; she looked up at him through her lashes. “I’m sorry.” Then her eyes closed again. Shit.   People who fainted didn’t die he knew, but as obstinate as she was, he wouldn’t put it past her.
    He placed her in his bedroom on his bed, straightening her body and pushing the cloud of red hair from her face. The medical team he ordered knocked on the front door and entered, calling his name. “Back here. Hurry.” The EMT’s entered quickly and began to examine her, loosening her clothing and raising her feet with a pillow; Jordan stepped back giving them her personal history as he knew it.
    Mac looked at him as he tried to wake her. “This woman is exhausted; her color is poor, and I don’t like the blood pressure reading we’re getting. She has had a shock of some kind, and her system is giving in rather than fighting it.”
    “Treat her.” Mac nodded. He put smelling salts under her nose, and she tried to get away from the awful smell, murmuring for Jordan to help her. As her eyes fluttered, Jordan sat down on the bed and called her name. “Madison. You’re all right.” He pulled her into him, getting her upper body somewhat vertical. She needed to get some fluid in her. The technician held a glass of juice to her lips. She managed a small amount. He rubbed her arms as she leaned against his chest, and her color began to return. As he came into focus, her mind clamored that she was indeed in his bedroom, but certainly not under the circumstances she had thought—so much for insight.
    Madison had seen Thomas Hull’s right hand man with