Guardian For Hire: A For Hire Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

right-hand corner of the screen. He’d banked on a bit more time. Apparently one of her neighbors had a conscience after all.
    The auburn-haired, stiff-faced newswoman shook her head grimly and continued with her report: “…is the granddaughter of hotelier Stanley Lucking and his wife, Lucinda. There was an attempt on the young doctor’s life today. Authorities are treating this as a possible homicide, but have set also up roadblocks in the greater Chicago area as one witness, a neighbor of the victim, claims to have seen her leave the premises in a dark sedan.”
    Shit.
    “We’ve got to call my grandparents. Let them know I’m all right,” she whispered.
    “Owen is en route to Chicago now to take care of that, but understand we can’t tell them any specifics. Not who you’re with, not where you’re going. The less they know, the better.”
    She hesitated, but then nodded. “I understand.”
    She was stubborn, but she was smart. That was something, at least.
    “The stress of being splashed all over television again is going to send my grandmother into a fit, though,” she said with a half smile.
    He studied her face. There was pain in her eyes and a tightness to her voice that belied that smile. He was very familiar with what it was like to have a parent who didn’t live up to the potential the job required. There was more to the young doctor than met the eye. A steel in her he was beginning to appreciate in spite of himself. “She’ll get over it. The important thing is that you’re safe, and I’m going to keep it that way. That’s a promise.”
    As he uttered those words, they settled over him like a lead blanket. He’d broken a promise once, and it almost killed him. He hadn’t made one to another person since, but something about this woman made him want to protect her.
    And damned if he wasn’t going to do it or die trying.

Chapter Four
    “Is there really nothing else on television besides SportsCenter ?” Sarabeth stretched her legs across the fiberglass-textured hotel comforter, trying desperately not to even think the word “bedbugs.” Judging by the way he was sprawled on his bed, Gavin clearly didn’t have the same concerns.
    “Nothing worth watching,” he muttered.
    It had been two straight hours of nonstop flicking through channels, catching snatches of the news, and waiting in the questionable comfort of their dismal economy “suite.” Although the light choking its way through the filthy window was dimming, it was way too early for sleep, and the boredom broken only by random bursts of panic was slowly killing her.
    Now that the shock had worn off—mostly—she realized what this whole kidnapping-murder-target thing actually meant: fearing for her life while she hid out in motel rooms, watching ESPN in silence until her eyes bled.
    With the surliest brute in history.
    She felt a tickle on her arm and swiped at it frantically, letting out a squeak. When she looked down, there was nothing there. “How can you be sure these beds aren’t infested with bugs?” she asked, trying not to let her panic show.
    He didn’t look away from the television. “I can’t.”
    “Then how can you possibly look so comfortable laying there like that?” The flesh on her arms prickled, and she shivered, sitting up straighter. “They could be laying eggs in your ears as we speak.”
    “If it makes you feel better, strip the bed and search the sheets. They’re white, and if there are bugs, you’re sure to see them if you look hard enough.” He shrugged. “Either way, it’s not going to kill me, and I’d rather not know.”
    She stared at him incredulously. “Well, that seems a little silly.”
    His jaw clenched, and his voice went from put-upon to ice cold as he met her gaze. “We didn’t grow up the same, me and you, Doc. Until you’ve had to cover your eyes and pretend the sound of rats scurrying over the rotten floor of the one-room hovel you call home are just mice because