Page 128 of The Bodyguard's Fall

“Why are you fighting me? This was our plan from the beginning. You love me,” he called out just before he moved forward.

“You need help, Leroy. Is that even your name?” I asked, backing up a few steps until I found myself trapped against the straw.

Leroy saw his moment and ran forward. With shaky limbs, a bodyguard nowhere in sight, and an anger pulsing through my veins…I raised my fists.

Will: Hey! We’ve got the wrong guy! It’s not him! He was a decoy! He’s got something planned!

Will: You there?

Will: WALKER! ANSWER ME!

Plot Twist: The hero didn’t abandon his woman. He would never do that, you idiot. This is a ROMANCE. The strapping hero was busy saving helpless children from a fire no doubt started by said villain. But perhaps there’s a way for the girl to get her moment as well as give the gallant hero a chance to save the day.

The jab cross combo worked beautifully. Leroy wasn’t an adept fighter, and he was getting more and more upset at my refusal to leave with him, making his movements jerky and agitated. I dodged them easily and threw my final punch, that cross-body money shot, which sent him flying backward. Tate had been right. Anger in a situation like this really did something to the speed and accuracy of the swings. My fist connected directly to his stomach, and he doubled over, gasping for breath.

I looked around. I heard less commotion now and saw the fire hoses in the air, putting out the flames that had chased us back into the maze. It was all so convenient, the more that I thought about it. Him here, at just the right time, dressed up and waiting for me.

“Did you start this fire, Leroy?” I asked, my voice shrill and angry, praying I was wrong. Praying that, for the last time, this was just a coincidence.

“I did it all for you!” he screamed, bent over with tears streaming down his face before he took off at a dead run right toward me.

I froze, not having enough time to move, and braced myself for impact.

It never came.

A man, wearing a badge underneath his shirt and a gun hidden in the waistband at his back, leaped from the top of the straw bales and onto Leroy, tackling him to the ground before he could reach me. Once he was on top of Leroy, he was a mixture of fists and threats flying. He was power unleashed, and for a second, I almost felt sorry for Leroy—almost.

And then it was over.

When Leroy lay unconscious on the ground, Tate came over to me. He was breathing heavily, dirt and sweat dripping off his forehead. His gaze raked down my body, as if assessing for any damage.

“Are you okay?” he asked, chest heaving. His hands moved to caress my arms and cheeks, as if needing to see for himself.

“Yeah,” I said. But before I could say anything else, Tate wrapped me up in an embrace so tight it snatched the air right from my lungs.

After a moment, he came to himself and released me, motioning toward the group of kids standing above us, watching the whole thing. The fire was mostly out. Firefighters were now walking on top of the bales, putting out any smoke they detected. Tate reverted to cop mode, and we both maneuvered the ladder and helped the kids down. Tom, Luke, and Ben found us soon after and helped Tate haul Leroy’s limp body back toward the entrance.

I watched them take him away. I still had so many questions that needed answers. But for a moment, I allowed myself to revel in the knowledge that Leroy and his reign of terror on my life had come to an end.

Plot Twist: Being strong and capable enough to take care of yourself is empowering–a huge confidence boost. But maybe those old clichés were onto something. Because watching the man you love jump in between you and the villain—and absolutely wipe the floor with him—is peak romance. Completely swoon-worthy. It’s elite. Ten out of ten. You can't convince me otherwise.

Tate stood bent over with his hands placed just above his knees, breathing deeply. Blood was smeared across his knuckles, sweat glistening up and down his neck and arms as he watched another officer put the cuffs on Leroy. He had tried to escape. He’d been on the ground, unconscious, and before any of us could blink, suddenly he was running. Tate caught him, happy to have an excuse to hit him again. Tom and Luke eventually pulled Tate off, probably saving Leroy’s life. The men stayed close to Tate until Leroy, bloodied and bruised, was in the police car, probably making sure Tate didn’t jeopardize his career for one more well-placed punch.

For his part, Leroy mostly just looked deflated and confused. Devastated about our ruined wedding plans. He clearly found it impossible to believe I didn’t want to go with him. He thought he was rescuing me. The level of delusion was astounding. Terrifying, actually.

It was strange to think this man had caused so much fear inside of me. With attempted kidnapping, arson, and stalking charges—and probably others—Tate assured me that he would be in prison for a long time. The anger in me wanted to spit and claw his face off, but another side of me hoped he would be able to get some help in prison. Either way, watching him get placed into the back of the police car brought an intense wave of relief pouring down my spine. Watching him be driven away seemed symbolic somehow.

I was free.

The fire was officially out, though police and firefighters still milled around, putting away equipment and taking notes. Tom and Ann were visibly shaken by the fire, by the disaster it could have been. Thankfully, nobody was hurt. The crowds still hovered, huddled in groups, watching the firefighters spray the ashes and roll up their equipment. Someone had placed a blanket over my shoulders. Probably Ann? I’d been checked on, bandaged up, and mothered all night. Tate checked on me for a minute before the arrest, but he was soon whisked away to give a statement and help manage the general chaos around us.

Ann had just left, promising to return with some water, leaving me alone for the first time in thirty minutes, when I felt a familiar body at my side. His arm pressed lightly against mine. For a long moment, we just stood there, staring at the smoking wreckage before us.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

My throat leaped into my stomach. I knew my line, but it was no longer accurate.

“Yeah, I did.”