Hired To Protect Him, Falling For Him

Chapter 9: Wet Footprints

I grabbed him.

I caught the back of his tux jacket right before he could rip the terrace door open. My gun was still in my other hand. I yanked him back hard against me, my bare feet sliding on the wet marble where the rain had already blown in from under the door.

He fought me. For real this time. Not like in the car. He shoved me, his bloody bandaged hand slamming against my shoulder.

"Let me go! He's out there! He's right there!"

"He's NOT out there! It's a trap! Look!"

I forced him to look down. The wet footprints on the bedroom floor. They were dry at the edges. Not fresh. Whoever made them had been gone for at least ten minutes. Maybe twenty. Long enough to tape the camera, send the photo, and leave.

Marcus wanted Elias to run onto the terrace. In the storm. In the dark. Where a sniper could take him from the next building. Where the wet floor would make him slip from the 50th floor.

Clara screamed behind us. Still holding her Birkin like an i***t.

"Stop it! Both of you! He said he would kill me! Elias, you have to protect me!"

I snapped. I turned my gun from the terrace and pointed it straight at her.

"Shut up. Shut up right now, Clara, or I swear to God I will shoot you myself."

She went dead silent. Her perfect mouth is open.

Elias was breathing hard against me, his chest heaving, his forehead pressed to mine. Rain was hammering the glass door. The little red camera was still blinking. I'm still watching us.

He's watching us right now. Live.

I had to kill the feed.

I let go of Elias with one hand, raised my Glock, and shot the camera.

BANG!

The glass exploded. The little camera sparked and fell into the rain. The red light died.

Silence. Only the rain, Clara's whimpering, and Elias's breath.

I lowered my gun. My hand was shaking now. Adrenaline crash.

Elias stared at the shattered glass door at the hole I made. Then he looked at me. Really looked at me. Like he was seeing me for the first time tonight. Not as his date in the red dress. As Nova. His bodyguard.

"You just..." he whispered.

"Saved your life. Again," I said. I was still holding his jacket. I didn't let go. "You're welcome."

Behind us, Clara started to cry again, but softer. "You shot at him... you could have killed us..."

I turned. I was done being nice.

"Clara. Who let you in here? How did you get up? The private elevator needs a fingerprint, not just a card."

She flinched under my gun. "Marcus... Marcus gave me the card, and he told me the code... he said Jonah changed the code last week to 0917... how would he know that? Only Jonah knows that..."

My blood went cold again.

0917 is Lena's birthday. September 17. Elias told me Jonah uses it for all the codes. Only three people know that. Elias, Jonah, and...

Marcus would know. Because Marcus is Lena's half-brother, too.

Elias heard it, too. His face went white.

"Jonah is compromised," he said, his voice dead. "Or Marcus has someone inside my house."

He pulled out his phone with his bleeding hand and called Jonah. One ring. Two rings. No answer.

Voicemail.

The head of security for the most powerful man in New York did not answer his phone on a night when someone broke into the penthouse.

Elias looked at me, and for the first time since I met him a year ago, I saw real fear in his eyes. Not anger. Not darkness. Fear.

"Nova," he said quietly, using my real name for the first time tonight. "He's not coming for me. He never wanted me dead. He wants me to watch."

He grabbed my wrist, his bloody bandage staining my red dress.

"He's going for Lena's grave. Tonight."

Clara, who had been quiet, suddenly whispered, "What grave? Lena doesn't have a grave. You never buried her. Don't you remember? You burned her..."

I didn't have time to process that.

Because at that exact second, all the lights in the penthouse went out.

Pitch black. Total darkness. Someone cut the power from the main breaker.

And in the darkness, from the living room, we heard the elevator ding.

Someone else just came up.