Defending Her Dignity (Renegade Love Bodyguard Novel Book 3) Read online

  Goddamnit. Why did I have to give in? Why did I have to lose myself in him? How could I ever be so stupid to think I could sleep with him and not complicate it with emotions? Of course there were fucking emotions! I was falling for him and having sex with him was a colossal mistake.

  But before I can even devise a plan of what to say to Lawrence, I hear the door to my bathroom open. Shit.

  “Yael?” Lawrence calls out. “You okay?”

  “I’m great!” I shout from the shower, instantly cringing at how forced I sound.

  “Cut the bullshit, Yael. Talk to me.”

  I jump when I hear Lawrence’s voice from behind me. I squeal, trying to cover myself. Lawrence rolls his eyes and crosses his arms at his chest.

  “We just made love, Yael. You don’t need to cover yourself.”

  “Made love?” Shit. So much for keeping emotions out of this.

  I drop my hands and square my eyes at him. “What do you want?”

  “I want to talk about why you’re running away from me.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not running away from you.”

  “Prove it, get out of the shower and come talk to me. Come to my room, sleep with me.”

  When the words leave his mouth, my eyes widen and he instantly catches it, and his whole body tenses.

  “You don’t —“

  “I told you in the car, it was only one time,” I interrupt.

  “Only one time? You can’t say it can only be one time. Not after what just happened. Tell me you didn’t feel that?”

  I can’t tell him I didn’t feel it, because it would be a lie. I did feel something, and that is exactly why it can’t last longer than tonight. Because if it does, I don’t know if I will be able to walk away when we both realize that a relationship between us could never work. And I would be the one nursing a broken heart. And I can’t bear to put myself through that ever again.

  “Trust me, it’s probably better this way,” I say.

  Lawrence furrows his brow in confusion. “Better this way? What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you and I are looking for two different things. If we let this go on, we’ll both end up disappointed.”

  “And how do you know what I’m looking for?”

  I scoff. “Your life revolves around work and Isabel—and it should. But you aren’t looking for anything more than someone to warm your bed when you’re lonely. And I want something more.”

  “Something more?” he bites back. “That’s rich, coming from the woman whose entire life fits into a backpack, who wants to escape to follow my sister around and travel the world.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t need to keep escaping if the men in my life weren’t such assholes!” I say sharply, regretting it the instant the words come tumbling out of my mouth. I had never meant for those words to escape the deepest recesses inside me. I had never wanted anyone to know the reason behind my desire to constantly flee, to never settle down. Though truthfully, it wouldn’t take too much psychoanalysis to figure out that my fucked-up childhood with a domineering and expressionless father was the root of my commitment issues.

  When Lawrence opens his mouth to respond, I hold my hand up and shake my head. “No, please don’t say a word,” I beg as I feel the tears brimming in my eyes, threatening to spill. “Don’t say anything.”

  His mouth snaps closed, and I can see the conflict brewing in his eyes. He’s angry, but his anger is overpowered by his desire to protect me, to keep from hurting me. So, after staring me down, he just shrugs his shoulder and walks away, leaving me in the shower, alone, with the water pouring down around me.

  And it’s this—his desire to still respect my wishes and preserve my dignity, even though he wants nothing more than for me to open myself up, to share with him how I feel—that makes me even more convinced that falling for Lawrence would be a terrible, irreversible mistake. Because there would be no way, once I fell, that I would be able to stay away. And I wasn’t entirely sure how to live a life where I wasn’t always plotting my next escape.

  26

  Lawrence

  “Dad, it’s time to order.”

  I look up from the laptop screen and a smile instantly crosses my face as I see Isabel’s small face poking her head through the open door. I glance down at my watch. Six forty-five. My girl is nothing if not predictable.

  “All right, kiddo. Let’s do it.” I grab my phone, dial the number to the pizza restaurant, and send in our order.

  As soon as I’m done, Isabel tugs at my hand and pulls me into the living room. “I’ll let you pick the movie tonight,” she offers.

  I wiggle my brow and press my palm to her forehead. “Is everything okay? Do you have a fever? What happened to the real Isabel Monroe?”

  Isabel giggles and rolls her eyes. “You’re so ridiculous. I’m just being nice.”

  “All right, then. I’ll bite.” I follow her into the living room and grab the iPad off the coffee table to pick a movie. “Where’s Yael?”

  “Oh, she’s in her room.”

  “Why don’t you run up and see if she wants to join us while I order us the pizza?” I ask her, knowing full well how pathetic it is that I’m sending my ten-year-old daughter to go collect the woman I’m falling for because I’m too much of a coward to do it myself. Judge away.

  A few minutes later, I hear two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs. One running at a faster, clipped pace, and the other trailing more slowly behind. As they round the corner, I can hear the bubbling excitement in Isabel’s voice.

  “And my sensei said that if I keep practicing, I can reach my yellow belt next month!”

  I push back a smile as I slowly roll my chair closer to my door, eager to hear Yael’s response. But before she can reply, the doorbell chimes loudly.

  Looking down on my watch, I push out of my office chair and join the duo in the hallway.

  “Looks like Steve is working double-time tonight,” I remark as I dig my wallet out of my pocket. “He’s setting a new record.”

  “When did you call for the pizza?” Yael asks, the easy smile quickly fading from her face.

  “About fifteen minutes ago,” I answer.

  Yael shakes her head and leans down to Isabel. “Upstairs, now,” she orders.

  Without even looking at me, Isabel runs up the stairs. Yael bends down and pulls a long switchblade out of the side of her boot.

  “What the hell?”

  “Steve always comes at seven thirty,” Yael whispers. “It’s too early. And he always rings the doorbell three times.”

  “Yeah, but it’s obviously him. You need a gate code to even get through…” I start, before an uneasy feeling washes over me as the pieces of the puzzle start to fit together.

  Yael nods, seeing that I’m finally catching up. “Go to your office. Lock the door. If you hear anything, call the police.”

  The doorbell chimes again. I grab Yael’s arm. “I’m not leaving you. Let’s just call the police.”

  She shakes her head. “No, if he suspects anything, he’ll run. I’ve got this.”

  Yael walks silently to the door. Before she reaches the door handle, she looks over her shoulder back at me. “Office! Now,” she silently mouths.

  I stand my ground and cross my arms at my chest. I want to be close by. Yael shakes her head in frustration and grips the door handle, unlocking the latch.

  “Steve, is that you?” she calls out.

  “Yeah, pizza’s here,” the other voice calls out, sending chills to my spine, because I know instantly it’s not Steve.

  “Great,” Yael says through the door. “Hold on one second, I’m going to grab the money.”

  Grabbing a decorative coat rack, Yael lowers it to the floor, wedging it about four inches behind the door against the wall. Without skipping a beat, Yael starts to open the heavy wood door, but before it’s open all the way, whoever is on the other side tries to shove their way into the house. The door opens just those fou
r inches before it hits the coat rack and stops. With a loud grunt, an arm shoots into the door, covered in a black sweatshirt and a black leather glove. I feel my heart drop to the floor as I see a large black pistol in his hand. He fires off one shot down the empty hallway before Yael shoots up from her position, keeping the coat rack in place, and sinks her knife into the assailant’s hand. He drops his gun to the floor, resulting in an ugly, heavy clang as the metal hits the tile. I jump into an empty doorframe and watch as Yael kicks the gun away, pulls her knife out of his hand, then stabs him again in his forearm. The attacker grunts in pain before pulling his arm away. Without his weapon and with two deep cuts, he decides to cut his losses and runs. Yael grabs the gun off the ground, kicks the coat rack out of the way, and follows.

  “Yael! Stop!” I shout as I chase her down.

  On the front stoop, she levels the gun and fires off two shots. One hits the windshield of the car, splintering the glass, and the other hits the rear tire. Despite the two shots, the driver peels out of the driveway and is gone in less than five seconds.

  “Shit,” Yael mutters. She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and quickly dials. When the other person picks up the line, she speaks quickly in Hebrew, the words unrecognizable to me. I continue to stare at her, my heart still racing. When she feels me still watching her, she turns around and pulls the phone away.

  “Lawrence, call the police,” she tells me.

  I shake my head out of my spell. “Right,” I mutter as I turn and walk back into the house. I grab my cell off my desk and as I dial the police, I run upstairs to check on Isabel.

  Only when I’m assured the police are on their way do I race up to Isabel’s room. She’s hiding in her princess teepee tent, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her face is pale, and I hate the look of fear I see in her eyes.

  “Baby, are you okay?” I ask her as I fall to the ground and hold my arms open to her. She quickly nods as she scrambles into my embrace.

  “Everything is okay, baby,” I assure her. “We’re safe.”

  I hear Yael’s footsteps running up the stairs and when she sees Isabel in my arms, she lets out an audible sigh of relief. She drops down beside us and rubs her hand over Isabel’s back. “I’m sorry, Isabel.”

  Isabel forces back her tears and offers Yael a brave smile. “Thank you for saving us,” she says.

  Yael stiffens at the compliment and offers Isabel a quick smile before pressing a kiss to her head. “I’m going to wait for the police downstairs,” she says. As she stands, I see the gun tucked into the back of her pants.

  “Isabel, I want you to wait up here while Yael and I talk with the police, okay?”

  Isabel nods and I follow Yael down the stairs. Her spine is straight, and I can almost see all the thoughts racing through her head.

  “Who the hell was that?” I ask as I pace the foyer, my heart thundering in my chest.

  Yael shakes her head. “Not sure.”

  She’s so calm as she stands in the doorway, watching over the front yard. It’s then that I realize she’s still watching over us, ready to pull the gun at any moment and fire.

  “Yael—” I start, before getting interrupted by her phone ringing in her pocket.

  She digs it out and holds it up to her ear. She lets out a curse and thanks the person on the other end of the line before shoving it back into her pocket. “I gave the plate number to Oded to trace. It’s a stolen car,” she says, her brown eyes watching me and laced with concern. “It’s Steve’s.”

  I feel my face blanch and I stop my pacing. “Steve? Is he okay?”

  Yael shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know,” she answers softly.

  The sound of the police sirens coming up the street offers me my first semblance of comfort, and Yael and I walk down the front steps to meet them. I’m relieved to find one of the detectives who had been called to Isabel’s school following the first attack, stepping out of his car.

  “Detective Bledsoe, thank you for coming,” I say as I hold out my hand. “This is Yael Benoudiz, my private security.”

  The detective nods toward Yael and follows us up the stairs and into the house. Yael pulls the gun out from the back of her pants and hands it to the detective. “Here is the gun.”

  He looks at her incredulously. “You’ve been holding it? The prints—”

  Yael shakes her head in annoyance. “No hired gun is dumb enough to leave prints.” She points to a small hole in the wall. “That is where the shot went. Then I subdued the assailant, forced him to drop his weapon. She gestures to the still-bloody knife on the floor. “That you will want to bag. See if his blood matches anything on file.”

  Detective Bledsoe watches Yael with surprised admiration as she continues to detail the events of the night, down to her concern that Steve, our regular pizza deliverer, may be in grave danger. Detective Bledsoe calls over his colleague and asks him to follow up with the pizza restaurant and ensure that Steve is okay.

  While he and Yael continue, I dial Gabby’s cell and give her a quick rundown of the evening. She offers to bring dinner and come and watch Isabel, which I graciously accept. I hate knowing that Isabel is still huddled upstairs in her tent, afraid, but the detective still has more questions, and I’m eager to help catch this bastard.

  When Gabby arrives twenty minutes later, I send her upstairs to be with Isabel. Detective Bledsoe is still sitting with Yael, going over the events one more time. When his cellphone chirps in his pocket, he pulls it out and steps away to answer the call.

  I sink down into the empty seat next to Yael. “How are you holding up?” I ask her.

  Yael looks at me, a sad expression on her face. “I’m okay. How is Isabel?”

  “Gabby just got here, so she’ll be with her.”

  Yael’s shoulders relax, and she offers me a grateful smile. “Good,” she whispers.

  Detective Bledsoe returns and slides his small notebook back into his breast pocket. “We were able to locate Steve,” he says. “Looks like he was stranded after a carjacking while delivering pizzas tonight. Took his phone and wallet and his car. Apparently, your gate code is printed on each receipt, so anyone could have read it. But judging from the attempted kidnapping of your daughter six weeks ago, Mr. Monroe, I doubt this is a random attack.”

  I nod. “I agree with you.”

  “We will run the DNA off the knife and see if we can get any hits. I do agree with Ms. Benoudiz, however, and doubt we will get anything substantive. In the meantime, I recommend you keep a vigilant eye out.”

  I stand from the table and shake his hand again. “Thank you, detective.”

  He offers me a curt nod and I walk him to the door, locking it before returning to the kitchen table and sitting again next to Yael.

  I blow out a long breath. “So now what?”

  Yael looks at me, anger and fury swirling in her hazel eyes. “Now we find the bastard and kill him.”

  27

  Lawrence

  “We’ll be back in about three hours.”

  I nod and watch as Yael reaches for Isabel’s hand and they walk out the door and into the garage. For over a week, Isabel has been cooped up in the house. Too anxious to have her return to school, I’ve temporarily brought in tutors to help her with her schoolwork until the threat dies down and we catch this asshole. Yael had agreed with my plan. She wanted this bastard as much as I did.

  As we had suspected, the police weren’t able to find any leads from the evidence. We were all hyper-vigilant after the attack, and I could tell Isabel was feeling claustrophobic. And while she had agreed to pause her karate classes last week, when I had refused to let her go this week, she had been miserable. She had cried and begged for hours for me to change my mind. Only after Yael agreed to go with her and not let her out of her sight did I finally relent. Though the decision still had me on edge.

  Though truthfully, I’ve been on edge since that night. That night when the gun had gone off and I had felt my heart stop. I keep
replaying it, like a slow-motion movie in my head. Yael blocking the door with the coat rack, the gun going off before she sinks her knife into his hand. Yael kicking the gun out of the way as she rips her knife out of his skin and slashes him a second time. My thoughts jumping to my baby girl upstairs, and the overwhelming terror I had felt that she might be in danger. And then the relief at seeing Yael uninjured as she chased after him.

  I wander upstairs and decide to catch the first half of the game on the flat screen in my bedroom. I need to relax, get my mind off everything. As I round the corner, I catch the door to Yael’s room left ajar. My feet stop, and I hover outside her door for a long moment. There are two voices in my head right now, each trying to drown out the other. One desperately wants for me to wander in, take a quick peek inside, while the other is calling me a dick for even thinking about violating her privacy and telling me to move along.

  Unfortunately, my baser instincts win out, and I take a deep breath before I slip into her room.

  Even though she’s been living here for two months, the room lacks any sort of personal touches. The bed is immaculately made, and the nightstand remains empty. The bureau opposite her bed is free of any personal effects, except for a small bottle of perfume. Like an addict, I reach for it and inhale the familiar scent of jasmine and basil. It’s the absolute essence of Yael: strong yet delicate, earthy yet floral. Like Yael, a contradiction that somehow works.

  The small desk by the large windows overlooking the backyard has a laptop charging. It’s a beat-up MacBook that looks like an antique. Lying next to it is a small pad of paper with neat script in Hebrew. I’m not even going to try and decipher it, though I know I could snap a picture and get it translated in an hour. And yet, that somehow feels too much of a violation. Which makes no fucking sense since I’m already creeping around her room. Still, the desire to know more about her, to feel closer to her since she keeps pushing me away, spurs me on.

  I make my way into her bathroom, which is kept as neat as the bedroom. Nothing of hers is out, everything is tucked away neatly in drawers. I can’t help but feel annoyed. She’s been living here for two months and her room still feels like a sterile guest room. Unsettled. Like she could leave at a moment’s notice. It bothers me.