The One Who Got Away (Wilde Ways #12) - Cynthia Eden Page 0,15

he in? Can you tell me more?” Not that she was buying Antony’s story, but she still needed to hear more. She had been his head of security. Taking care of him—protecting him—had been her job. It wasn’t like she could just flip a switch and stop caring.

If only. Life would be much easier.

“I’m still evaluating the situation. But Antony told me that someone broke into his place in Asheville.”

That bit of news had her eyebrows rising. “He’s got great security at his condo.” She’d made sure of it. For someone to get past the security…

Unease slithered through her. Could this be about more than getting her back?

“He seemed worried. Or as worried as I suppose Antony could be,” Eric mused. “Told me that he’d pay any price in order to get you as his bodyguard.”

Because he didn’t want anyone else stumbling onto his secrets. Or maybe…

Maybe he just wants sex again.

But who was she kidding? Antony had never lacked for female companionship. When you were routinely listed as one of the “Most Eligible Bachelor Billionaires” in all the flashy magazines, women tended to go out of their way to catch your attention. She vividly remembered one gaming conference where a completely naked woman had rushed the stage because she wanted to meet Antony.

Ella’s lips tightened.

“Think on it a little longer,” Eric advised her. Then he snapped his fingers. “Or, you know what? I have a better idea. Why don’t you go and talk with him more? Find out specific details. See what you think about the case.”

Her hands slid along the surface of her desk. “Do you think he needs me?”

Eric nodded. “Probably more than he realizes.”

Her brow furrowed. “But—”

“What do you have to lose by doing a little investigating?”

Everything. Eric didn’t understand—leaving Antony had ripped out her heart. Learning of his lies had gutted her. Because I was falling in love with him.

And if she ran after him now? “Antony can take care of himself.” She was sure of that. “I have a case.” She grabbed her bag. “I’ll go downstairs. Maybe I can catch Niesha.” Her new partner was the tall, willowy, and absolutely gorgeous Niesha Grim. A woman who didn’t waste time chatting aimlessly but preferred to get straight down to business.

“If that’s the choice you want to make, go right ahead. Stay on the case with Niesha.”

“It is.” It was the safe choice, and it was the one she’d take.

She hurried past him. Flew down the elevator and somehow made it to the lobby at the exact same time that Antony was walking out. He was just steps ahead of her.

He didn’t realize she was behind him. At least, Ella didn’t think that he did. His head was down as he fired off some text on his phone. That was Antony. Always working. His head often buried in tech. She’d been convinced that the man often was completely unaware of the reality around him until she’d learned the truth…

Not Clark Kent. He’d just been playing that role. Bumbling around when he could really kick ass and take names.

She pushed open the door. Followed him outside with slow steps. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she watched him. No, Antony didn’t need her. He could more than take care of himself.

Except…

There was a hooded figure running down the street. A jogger, with his head down and his gray hood up. He was running fast and hard but…

Was he running toward Antony?

Because she could have sworn that maybe he was. That maybe…

She saw the guy reach into the pouch of his hoodie. Caught the glint of metal. A knife.

Fear iced through her. She didn’t waste time screaming. If she screamed, Antony would just look toward her. She didn’t need him looking at her. She needed him getting the hell out of that guy’s path. She ran toward Antony, rushing as fast as she could.

At the last instant, he did look up at her. Frowned.

She slammed her body into his. Antony went stumbling to the side even as she heard the sudden gunning of a motor. Her head snapped up.

“Uh, Ella,” Antony began. “Just what is—”

She yanked her weapon out of her bag. Surged toward the jogger.

But he’d just jumped into a black van. A van that was now hurtling away in a cloud of burning rubber and with the squeal of tires. A van that didn’t have a license plate.

“Dammit!” Ella yelled.

A hard hand closed over her shoulder. Antony whirled her toward him. “What in the