The Bodyguard by Lena Diaz Page A

out of place. The four-poster bed in the center dominated the expansive room. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a bed that large and imposing. The man who slept in a bed like that had to feel as if he was king of the world. And the woman who had slept there had to have felt as if she was...lost.
    He forced thoughts of Carol away. He needed to focus, search the room. Then get back to his own. He moved into the adjoining bathroom, with its sunken tub and walk-in, glassless shower. He’d always considered his own master bathroom to be rather large, but he could have fit two of them in here.
    He headed back into the bedroom and stopped. Something was off. Out of the corner of his eye, he realized a door that had been closed when he entered the room was now open. He clawed for his gun but he was too late. A dark shape launched itself from the closet. Luke twisted, slamming his shoulder into his attacker’s sternum.
    The man grunted with pain and staggered back, knocking over a delicate decorative table. A vase on the table fell to the marble floor and crashed, sending shards of glass flying across the room, pinging against the walls.
    Luke lunged forward, but before he could throw a punch, his prey scrambled out of the way and took off in a dead run for the double doors. Luke ran after him, drawing his gun as he dashed through the open doorway onto the gallery.
    “Hold it. Freeze or I’ll shoot,” Luke yelled.
    The man skidded to a stop and slowly raised his hands. As he turned around, the door to Carol’s room opened. She faced Luke, not seeing the intruder. She stepped into the hallway.
    “Get back in your room,” he shouted as he raced toward her. He couldn’t shoot with her between him and the intruder.
    The seconds seemed to drag by as everything happened at once.
    Carol turned around.
    The intruder grabbed her and yanked her in front of him. The glint of a knife winked in the light from one of the hall sconces. He held it to her throat.
    Luke skidded to a stop just a few feet away.
    The man had one hand manacled around Carol’s waist, the other holding the knife at her throat. He crouched down behind her so Luke couldn’t get a clear shot at him. His face was covered with a ski mask. He slowly backed toward the stairs, pulling Carol with him.
    “Let her go,” Luke demanded.
    Carol whimpered and clutched the arm at her throat.
    “There’s no way I’m letting you out of this house with her,” Luke said. “And there’s no way you can get down the stairs without me getting a clear shot at you at some point. Your only hope is to let her go.”
    The man stopped. “If I let her go,” he rasped, his voice sounding oddly forced, strained, “you’ll just shoot me.”
    In a heartbeat. The man had signed his death warrant the second he held a knife to Carol’s throat.
    “Not if you don’t hurt her,” Luke lied.
    The man backed a few more steps down the hall.
    Luke followed relentlessly, his gun out in front of him.
    Suddenly the man backed up against the baluster. “Drop the gun or I toss her over.”
    The blood drained from Luke’s face. He hesitated.
    The man lifted Carol a few inches off the floor.
    She gasped, her eyes rolling white with fear.
    “All right, all right. Don’t hurt her.” Luke knelt down and placed his gun on the floor.
    “Kick the gun away from you,” the man ordered.
    Luke kicked it behind him, away from the intruder.
    “Now back up.”
    He weighed his options.
    The intruder lifted Carol higher.
    Luke swore and backed up several feet.
    The man lowered the knife from Carol’s throat and peered at Luke over her shoulder. The face-off by the baluster seemed to stretch out forever, but only a few seconds had really gone by when the intruder heaved Carol up over the banister.
    She screamed as he slapped her hands around the top of the railing and let go, leaving her hanging on all by herself, her feet dangling over the two-story drop, as he raced for the stairs.

Chapter Eight
    Luke