placed together temple-style on his lap. Mr. Carter was a prominent Atlanta businessman and he was also a long-standing senior member of CHAIM—Christians for Amnesty, Intervention and Ministry. He wanted his daughter protected and he’d assigned Brice to the job. Twenty-four seven. This just might prove to be Brice’s toughest assignment yet.
“We’re not trying to make her happy, Shepherd,” Delton said, using Brice’s code name. “We’re trying to keep her alive. And until we find out what kind of bomb that was, how it was triggered, and who set it up, we have to protect her.”
“But she won’t see it that way, sir.” Brice leaned forward, remembering the terrible scene back at the downtown clinic. “She’s already angry with me. This won’t help matters.”
“Do you care?” Selena’s gray-haired dad asked. Then he lifted a wrinkled hand. “I know how much you do care, so don’t even answer that. But Brice, I want the best on this. And in my mind, you’re the best. I won’t have anyone else watching out for her, especially when I’m already scheduled for that mandatory meeting in Chicago next week.” He shifted in the chair, worry lines slashing across his ruddy complexion. “We managed to give the police enough information that hopefully they’ll help us locate the people who did this, but you know how that goes. It could be months.”
“I understand, sir,” Brice replied. “And you have my word that I’ll do my very best to protect her while you’re out of town. If she’ll just cooperate.”
“Cooperate with what?”
Brice turned to find Selena standing in the arched doorway opening into the spacious den of his home. “I thought you’d be fast asleep by now.”
“You thought wrong,” she replied, her hand brushing down the length of her burnished-colored hair. “And whatever it is you two have cooked up, you’re probably right. I won’t cooperate. I’m fine now, so let’s just let things get back to normal.”
Her father lifted out of the deep leather chair to send her a stern withering look. “Selena, surely you’re not going back to the clinic.”
“I surely will go back,” she said as she stepped into the room, her hand unconsciously touching on the bandage across her forehead.
Brice took in the sight of her. She was alive and safe and that’s what he needed to focus on right now. But she looked pale in the muted light glowing from the various table lamps and chandeliers in this old house. She’d had a bath and was wearing the clothes her father had brought over—a green cashmere sweater and a pair of sleek black pants. She looked incredible, considering she could have died if she’d gotten into that car.
“How are you feeling?” he asked to deflect the warring stares between Selena and her father.
“I feel just dandy.” She laughed, tossed all that glorious hair away from her shoulder. “My car is destroyed and my life is in danger, but other than that, I’m just great.”
“Touchy, are we?”
“Don’t I have a right to be touchy? These people have disrupted my life. First, down in Argentina and now here. I’m not sure what to do next, but I won’t let them stop me from doing my job.” She focused on her father. “And I mean that, Daddy.”
Brice had to smile. Her feminine southern wiles were kicking in. He’d caught it in the slight inflection of her darling drawl. Even scary-smart Selena Carter knew being born and bred in the South gave a woman a distinct advantage. And it didn’t hurt that she had her formidable father wrapped around her finger—whether she realized it or not.
“Now, sugah, don’t go looking at me like that,” Delton said, coming over to give her a kiss on the forehead just below her injury. “Your mama is worried sick. She’s on her way home from London right.”
“I don’t need Mother here to babysit me,” Selena replied, all brisk business again. “Call her and tell her to stay. She’d been planning this trip for months now.”
Delton shrugged. “Well, now, you know your mama, honey. She’s every bit as stubborn as you. And when she said she’d be arriving at Hartsfield tomorrow morning, I knew I could set my watch by it.”
Selena looked from her father to Brice. “Have you scared everybody into thinking I’m not safe?”
Brice met her gaze with a sharp scowl. “No, luv, your car exploding just a few feet away from you did that. Your father has hired me to be your security patrol, not because we think you’re not safe, but because we know you aren’t.”
She waited two beats before groaning. “No! Daddy, this is silly. I don’t need Brice hanging around, bothering me. I have to live my life and that means I have to keep working.”
“We want you to do just that,” Brice said, thinking he’d like nothing better than hanging around Selena. “And that’s why I’ll be by your side every waking hour during the day and that’s also why you’ll be staying here with me for a while. Your apartment might not be safe.”
Selena shook her head so hard her hair swung out in a golden-red arc around her shoulders. “No, I will not. Daddy, we have the same security system as Brice at our house. I don’t need him hovering and hindering me. I won’t do it. I’ll stay with Mother when she gets back instead.”
“Too late, little darlin’,” Delton replied. “I’m set for that big conference in Chicago next week and your mama can’t protect a ladybug, let alone the both of you. She’s gonna come home just to be nearby this weekend and then she’ll probably meet me in Chicago next week—which was our original plan anyway. But until we both get back to town for sure I want you to do what Brice says. You’ll have plenty of company here with Brice’s mother and his well-qualified staff and your mama can come and visit all weekend long. I’ve already arranged to have some of your things sent over. And that’s that.”
Selena bristled beautifully. “I’m staying here? Just like that, I have to be under house arrest with him?” Her eyebrows lifted and her nostrils flared in distaste.
Brice made a clucking sound. An arrow through his heart couldn’t have had a more direct hit. “Ouch! The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
“You better believe I do, Romeo!”
“Actually, that line is from Hamlet, but I get the point.”
“Do you? Do you really? You planned this, Brice. You know I’m still reeling from those murders in Día Belo and then being summoned back home and now this—forcing me to stay in this cold, drafty Tudor-style prison—”
Delton stepped forward and this time he didn’t sugarcoat his words. “Would you rather I send you to Ireland for some real peace and quiet, Selena? You do know that Brice has a home there that makes this one look like a doll house. Very isolated and remote—a perfect place to reflect and consider things, but also a very good place for twenty-four-hour protection, if need be. I think it even has a dungeon or two. But for your comfort, I’m sure he’d arrange the best suite in the place—the bedroom near the turret room. The view is something else, let me tell you.”
Brice grinned. “It’s…just a little family estate, really.”
“It’s a castle,” Selena retorted. “And we’re all well aware of how you torment CHAIM agents who’ve messed up when they’re sent there. You probably make them wear shirts made with fresh Whelan wool, all scratchy and itchy.”
“We don’t torment or torture anyone,” Brice countered. “And our wool is some of the softest on earth, thank you very much.”
She looked down at her own sweater. “I guess it is, but still, living around you could turn out to be torment.”
“I wouldn’t call it that,” he said, frowning and feeling jittery. “I just try to bring jaded, frustrated agents back around. The job causes a lot of burnout and other complications. We restore their energy and their motivation and give them a fresh perspective