Quiet Protector - Shandi Boyes Page 0,91

If you can afford to hand over 1.5 million dollars to stop your fiancée from being kidnapped, how much will you be willing to lose to save her life?

The only good that came from Julian’s generosity was the massive alteration it caused Castro’s plan. He wanted Melody dead, no matter what the cost, until he realized keeping her alive would be far more beneficial to his resurrection than old Russian money. Dimitri was paying him out the eye to keep his daughter alive, and now Castro had a new gold mine to excavate.

It’s probably lucky Dimitri stepped in when he did. There are no guarantees Castro would have kept both his ruses running. The kidnap game is already messy, but when it involves a kid, it’s a whole other kettle of fish.

I’m drawn from my thoughts when I spot Melody eyeballing me for the fifth time. “Will you quit staring at me like that, you’re giving me a complex.” The chuckle my words come out with ensures her there’s no malice in my tone. I’m not feeling myself, but that doesn’t mean I need to take my unease out on her.

“I can’t help it,” she replies, smiling. “I never saw you as a sports car type of guy, BJ. Dad would be rolling in his grave if he knew what you were getting around in.”

Although confident his unrest has nothing to do with my choice of vehicle, I keep that snippet of information to myself. “What’s wrong with my ride? She’s—”

“Flashy, pretentious, and nothing like her owner.”

She has me there. I was one of those suckers car salesmen see coming from a mile out. She didn’t sell me on style and sophistication. I got caught on its safety features and good mileage, which, in case you’re wondering, aren’t as good as the salesman made out. What can I say? I’m a sucker for dirty blondes with big brown eyes.

“What kind of car should I be driving?” I could let our conversation end, but since it’s the first we’ve had that doesn’t involve canceled weddings and rapist siblings, I’m going to run with it.

Melody taps on her lips that are super glossy thanks to the high-hanging sun. “Something classic with a fit body that heats up when it’s revved with excitement.” Like an a-grade fucking loser, my cheeks inflame during her last comment. “Yes,” she mutters, looking pleased, “Just like that.”

When I reach a T-intersection, I indicate to turn left. We’ve been holed up at the hotel the gala was held at for the past three days. We only ventured out today so Melody could give an official statement to the Special Victims Unit at Saugerties PD. Although she could have done that at a precinct closer to our hotel, Melody is hopeful keeping things local will slow the rumor mill. She’s not ashamed about what happened to her, but she’d rather tell her boss in person than have him discover it from someone else.

I peer at Melody when she says, “You should take a right.”

“Yeah?” I sound hesitant. Justly so. Right only leads one way.

Back to our family ranches.

“Yeah,” she copies, nodding. “I’m sure Socks would appreciate a visit.”

Her smile turns blinding when I argue, “Socks doesn’t give a shit about anyone—”

“As long as he’s getting fed,” she fills in, laughing.

After settling my unexpected laughter, I switch my turn signal from left to right. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Melody?” Only three days ago, she asked Grayson to gather the evidence from her house. I thought it was because she couldn’t face going there. Only now am I wondering if it’s because she didn’t want any holes in her defense. It would be mighty suspicious if the victim and the accused’s brother handed in the evidence. Grayson’s involvement made it official. He followed the correct procedures and conducted his search along with two deputies from Saugerties PD.

When Melody murmurs, “I’m sure. It’s time to stop letting my past haunt me,” I slowly apply pressure to the gas pedal. I won’t lie, this will be hard for both of us.

Twenty minutes later when I pull down a familiar street, Melody’s eyes stray to two faded white crosses tacked to a power pole on the corner where her parents lost their lives.

“They’re not there, you know.” I take my hand off the gearshift and place it high on Melody’s chest. “They’re in here. They have always been in here.”

Nodding, she places her hand over mine. It makes it hard to

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