Special Ops Bodyguard. Beth Cornelison

in the morning, Hank released a weary sigh and muttered, “They kidnapped my daughter.”

      Gage hesitated, not certain he’d heard correctly, then lowered himself back onto the suede couch. “Excuse me?”

      Bart circled the chair where the senator sat and settled next to Gage.

      “My daughter, Lana, was kidnapped a couple of days ago.” His tone was hushed, defeated. “Her kidnappers called me and made it clear her release was contingent upon my cooperation with their demands.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’m being blackmailed.”

      Gage battled down the kick in his pulse. Now they were getting somewhere. “Have you notified the authorities?”

      The senator’s gaze darted up to his. “No. And neither can you. I was warned not to contact the police or the FBI if I wanted Lana to live.”

      “A common enough threat, but the FBI needs to—”

      “No!” The senator’s eyes flashed. “This is my problem, and we do things my way. Period. It’s imperative that I not give these people reason to retaliate.”

      “What people?” Bart asked.

      Hank’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I … can’t tell you. It’s complicated.”

      “If your daughter’s life is at stake—”

      “I have my own resources. I’m looking into ways to facilitate a rescue but … I need time to plan. I’m still trying to determine where they’re holding her.”

      Gage flopped back on the couch, staring at the senator, trying to keep the sour words that sprang to his tongue in check. He thought of Cole’s parting shot about what the senator’s selfishness had cost his family and understood better the depth of the son’s animosity.

      Now Hank Kelley, U.S. Senator from California, was jeopardizing his daughter’s life in order to cover his political ass. Or at least that’s how it appeared. Whatever dirt his enemies had to blackmail him with couldn’t be as important as saving his daughter from her kidnappers. Yet to appease his enemies, Hank refused to contact the FBI. Gage’s low opinion of the senator dropped another notch.

      “Sir, while I don’t know all the particulars of the situation,” Bart said, “I’d be remiss if I didn’t encourage you to contact the authorities immediately and tell them everything you can about the kidnap—”

      “I said no,” Hank growled. “Case closed. I’ll handle this my way.” The senator slammed down his glass and shot to his feet. “I’m going to bed. I’m not to be disturbed before 8:00 a.m.”

      Bart stood quickly and followed their charge.

      Gage opened his mouth to tell the senator what the housekeeper had said about the 5:00 a.m. breakfast but decided not to waste his breath. If the senator missed his last chance to speak to his son before Cole headed out for roundup, it was none of his business. Family matters were a distraction Gage didn’t want to involve himself in. His job was to keep the senator safe, and that was what Gage intended to do.

      Broken bodies littered the earth. Blood ran through the dust in tiny rivers. Moans of the dying assailed his ears. Gage staggered through the wreckage of Humvees and dead soldiers. Disoriented. Confused. Grieving. Where had the attack come from? The road had been clear and then …

      He spotted Mike, his best friend in the unit, staring sightlessly into the gray day. And there was Gunner. So young. So cocky. So dead. Further down the convoy, his CO lay with his arms still clutching the wound in his gut. Dead. They were all dead.

      A sob lurched from Gage’s chest. Dark despair. Loss. Guilt.

      The road had looked clear. He’d told them to proceed. Sweat mingled with his tears as he stumbled down the rutted road. The eyes of his dead unit followed him. The hands of slaughtered soldiers reached out to grab his ankles. Murderer. You failed us.

      The breath in his lungs weighted him down like the cold boulders lining the road. He wheezed, choked on the fumes of leaking fuel.

      Darrius. Frank. Jimmy B. His head spun as one face followed another. Gone. Bloodied. Broken. Walt. Mad Dog. Ronnie. And …

      He froze. His gaze fell on the new face.

      Blood streaked her creamy skin. Dust dimmed her golden highlights. Death stole her sunny smile. Kate.

      Gage jerked awake, gasping. Sweat bathed his skin, and horror knotted his gut. His gaze darted around the unfamiliar dark room, searching …

      No dead soldiers. No dusty road. No Kate.

      Nightmare. Again. He muttered a foul curse. Curling his fingers into his sheets, he fought to gain control over his ragged breathing. The rapid-fire beat of his heart.

      His bedding had twisted around his legs as he thrashed. With jerky tugs, he freed his feet and swung them to the floor. He lifted his watch from the bedside table and checked the time. Oh three hundred. He had to be up in three hours, ready to guard a selfish senator whose enemies had kidnapped his daughter. A cushy assignment compared to being deployed in Afghanistan.

      Gage gritted his teeth. He didn’t deserve cushy. He deserved to have been brought home in a casket like his friends. Protecting the convoy had been his job, and he’d let his unit down.

      Why had God spared him? Maybe the nightmares were his punishment. An ongoing reminder of his failure. As if he’d ever forget.

      Gage choked back the fist of grief that rose in his throat with the bitter taste of bile.

      The dream had changed tonight. What did it mean that Kate was now among the dead?

       Why, sir, are you flirting with me?

      Gage shuddered and tried to block the image of her lifeless, bloody face. Kate had no place in his nightmare. But maybe that was the point—a stark reminder that he was damaged. That his world was no place for Kate, with her sunshine laugh and blushing innocence. He was only passing through town. As soon as the senator moved on, so would Gage.

      Kate might be a breath of fresh air in the dank cave of his life, but he had no room for distraction. And she didn’t need his black cloud obliterating her light.