Read Online Bodyguard Under the Mistletoe by Cassie Miles - Free Book Online Page B

what you’re talking about.”
    Grasping at shreds of her composure, she said, “Please leave.”
    â€œYou’re crazy, Fiona.”
    He was dangerously close to being right. She was mad, mad, mad. “Please. Leave us alone.”
    â€œOr else? What are you going to do? Sic your bodyguard on me?”
    Right on cue, Jesse appeared behind him. “You heard the lady. It’s time for you to go.”
    Clinton stood to confront him. In his tweed jacket and cashmere sweater, he resembled an old-fashioned gentleman, the lord of the manor. Fiona wouldn’t be surprised if he took a formal pugilistic stance with his fists raised.
    But he didn’t dare.
    Even with his arm in a sling, Jesse exuded masculineconfidence. If it came to a physical fight, he could handle Clinton without breaking a sweat. Jesse’s dark eyes shone with a hard, cold strength. He meant business.
    And Clinton didn’t challenge him. Her stepson might be pushy and underhanded, but he wasn’t stupid.
    He stalked toward the door, yanked it open and turned back toward her. “You need to pull yourself together, Fiona. This isn’t a fit environment for raising a child. If you’re not careful, you might lose Abby, too.”
    His threat went way over the top. There was no way in hell he could dispute her custody of Abby. The idea was not only absurd but infuriating. How dare he even suggest that she wasn’t a fit mother! Her self-control shattered. She was beyond mad.
    She thrust her hand toward Jesse. “Give me your gun.”
    Clinton gaped. “What are you doing?”
    â€œSomething I should have done a long time ago. Teaching you some manners.”
    â€œYou can’t—”
    â€œI’m within my rights. Around here, we shoot trespassers.”
    He slammed the door as he left.
    Rage swirled around her like a red tornado, but she was calm in the eye of the storm. This is what it feels like to defend your home .
    It felt damned good.
    Â 
    J ESSE WAITED AT THE dining-room table for Fiona to finish reading Abby a bedtime story. Her attack on Clinton had surprised him. Who knew she was such a firecracker?
    He’d overheard enough of her earlier conversation with her stepson to know that she suspected him of breaking into her house and going through her things. In a way, he hopedher accusation was true. Clinton was a mean son of a bitch who took pleasure in harassing a widow, but he presented less of a threat than Pete Richter.
    Unfortunately, Jesse didn’t believe that Clinton was the culprit. Sure, he had a motive to search for his supposedly valuable things. But no reason to murder Butch Thurgood. Nor could Jesse imagine the polished young lawyer creeping around in the forest, waiting for his opportunity to sneak inside and search.
    Fiona’s stepson was another piece of a big puzzle where nothing fit together right. Too many details about the kidnapping and the kidnappers—from the haphazard way Nicole was abducted to her refusal to come home—were skewed.
    The only part that made sense was the way Burke and the FBI had closed down the survivalist smuggling operation. Using high-tech precision, they took all the men into custody and protected the women and children from harm. They’d even rescued a pregnant woman in the throes of childbirth who was still at the Delta hospital, accompanied by one of the FBI profilers, Mike Silverman, who seemed to have formed an attachment to the new mother and child. According to Burke’s notes, Silverman was taking a leave of absence so he could escort the mother and child home to her parents.
    Fiona came to the table and sank into the chair to his right. She folded her arms on the tabletop and rested her forehead upon them. While she’d been putting Abby to sleep, she’d unfastened her long braid. Her long brown hair tumbled around her shoulders in shiny waves.
    He reached over and stroked her hair. His intention