Bodyguard Under Fire - Elle James Covert Cowboys, Inc.

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fingers fumbled for the cord, panic setting in as her vision blurred, her air cut off. No. She couldn’t die. Charlie needed her. She kicked and twisted, managing only to tighten the cord around her throat. It couldn’t end this way. She wouldn’t let it happen.

      The man lifted her to her feet and dragged her backward toward the door.

      PJ’s feet flailed beneath her, her strength fading with lack of oxygen. She focused on the crib in the bedroom and gave new effort to saving her own skin. With all the force she could muster, she brought her heel up hard between her attacker’s legs.

      The man grunted and slumped forward, jerking harder on the cord around her neck.

      Her world faded and her strength drained. She couldn’t give up.

      A loud crash sounded behind her as her apartment door slammed inward, bouncing off the wall. PJ heard it but couldn’t see who’d entered. All she could hope was that the cavalry had arrived to save her and Charlie.

      Her attacker jerked, releasing his hold on the cord around PJ’s neck.

      PJ pitched forward to her hands and knees and crawled away, dragging in huge gulps of air. When she turned, the man in black sailed through the air toward her.

      She threw herself to the side in time to avoid the collision.

      The man hit the ground hard, rolled to his feet and dived for the sliding glass door leading onto the balcony, slamming it open.

      Her savior charged after him, naked to the waist, his body glistening with droplets of water.

      It all happened so fast, PJ didn’t see his face, only his hulking size and rippling, well-toned muscles flashing past.

      The attacker in black launched himself over the balcony and dropped to the pavement below, disappearing out of sight. The bare-chested man braced his hands on the rail, his muscles bunched, ready to follow, and then he hesitated.

      He stood with his back to PJ for a long, agonizing moment. Would he jump?

      PJ prayed he wouldn’t. She didn’t wish for her hero to be hurt in the fall. At long last, he turned to face her.

      Ready to thank her rescuer, PJ’s breath left her lungs in a rush.

      “Oh, dear God.” She pressed her fist to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears, all her hopes and fears of ever seeing this man again wrapped up in one word. “Chuck.”

      PJ’s world faded into black.

      Chapter Two

      Chuck’s instinct had been to leap over the railing and chase after the black-clad attacker and pummel him into a bloody pulp for terrorizing his neighbor. As he’d bent his knees to do just that, pain ripped through his bad leg, reminding him that he couldn’t and shouldn’t drop fifteen feet to the ground if he wanted to keep the leg to walk on. Even if his leg survived the landing, he wasn’t up to running full speed yet.

      Defeat rode heavily on his shoulders as he swung back to the woman pulling herself to her feet in the doorway.

      She shifted in the shadows, and the overhead light illuminated her sandy-blond hair.

      Chuck’s heart burst into a gallop, pounding against his ribs. The throbbing pain in his bum leg faded to the back of his mind as joy filled him at the sight of her. He stepped forward.

      Her eyes widened and she stepped back. “Chuck?”

      “PJ?”

      And she crumpled to the floor.

      Had he been able, he’d have caught her before she landed. His injury-induced limitations hampered him in his rush to get to her.

      Chuck gathered PJ into his arms, his heart plummeting to the bottom of his belly at her reaction when she’d recognized him.

      The entire time he’d been in the oppressive heat and constant dust of Afghanistan, he’d pictured her coming to greet him upon his return, arms wide, a smile of happiness lighting her eyes. In the back of his mind, he’d known it was only a dream.

      The stark reality of her standing in front of him, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, her face blanching before she passed out, shattered those silly dreams.

      She was no happier to see him return than she had been to see him leave. Shock best described her response.

      Crushed, Chuck held her, cherishing every second he could feel her against him. He examined the bruising around her throat, anger firming his spine, pushing aside his deep disappointment. Who would attack a lone woman like that? Why would anyone want to hurt PJ? Since he hadn’t spoken to Cara Jo yet, he couldn’t be certain, but he’d bet his right arm that this was the employee Hank wanted protected.

      Chuck had walked into this assignment blind. Hank had assured him Cara Jo would fill him in on what his duties were and, when he had met the employee, he could go to Hank with any unanswered questions.

      Chuck had a few, and the sooner he got his answers the better.

      After only a moment, PJ’s face stirred against his chest and her eyes blinked open. “Chuck, what are you doing here? I thought you were still in Afghanistan.” She pushed to a sitting position.

      His lips tightened. Had he not been a loose cannon and acted on his own, he would still be in Afghanistan for another two months, fighting with his unit. Instead he’d gotten himself shot in the leg and medically discharged out of the army. “The army didn’t need me there after all.” It wasn’t a lie. The army didn’t need broken soldiers.

      “Oh.” Her gaze traveled across his naked chest, her cheeks reddening. “Why are you half-naked?”

      His lips twisted into a wry grin. “I just hired on with the resort as the handyman. I live down the hall.” He frowned. “Why are you in this apartment? I met a woman here a little while ago named Donna or Dana or something like that. She had a baby.”

      The baby whimpered from inside the bedroom as if emphasizing Chuck’s question.

      PJ’s face paled at the sound, her gaze shifting to the crib against the wall inside the next room. She pushed his hands aside and rose to her feet. “I live here.”

      Chuck straightened, heat rushing up his neck into his head. Like a zombie, he trudged toward the bedroom, his fists tightening, a sharp pain pinching his chest. “Then who is...?” In the dimly lit room, Chuck peered down at the baby with a tuft of silky dark hair, and his world crashed in around him as he remembered what Dana had said. “She called her Charlie,” he said, his voice raspy, uneven.

      PJ entered the room, switched on a lamp and leaned over the crib, running her fingers over the baby’s face and body. “She seems to be okay.”

      The baby slept through PJ’s touch, a soft smile curling her little lips, as if she knew she was safe and in good hands. “I named her after her father,” PJ whispered.

      “Charlie.” Chuck’s fingers curled around the crib rail so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

      PJ sighed. “You were in Afghanistan. What could you have done? From what I know, the army doesn’t grant leave from a war zone just so a man can be there when his baby is born, unless under dire circumstances.”

      “I had a right to know.” His words came out sharper than he intended, but hell, what did she expect? A man didn’t learn he had a daughter every day. The news had his belly flipping into knots.

      “So, now you know.” PJ brushed her fingers over her daughter’s hair and stepped back. “You have a right to be angry. But I didn’t know what else to do. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

      A muscle jerked in his jaw, and he had to breathe several calming breaths before he could speak again. “Call the police.”

      PJ passed through the small living area and into the kitchen. Her purse

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