Christmas with Her Bodyguard

‘Football.’ She risked a soft laugh. ‘The universal language.’

Relief coursed through her when it worked.

‘Yeah, I guess. Though I’m usually more of a rugby guy, myself.’

She laughed again but didn’t push it by saying anything more.

‘Anyway, we left the town and went on to the next. A few days later we were heading back to our main army camp when we saw these plumes of black smoke. I don’t remember anyone saying anything, but we all knew where it was. Ou

r convoy changed direction and we went to investigate.’

She didn’t dare to speak. Not even move.

‘When...’ He clenched his jaw so tightly, she expected to hear it crack. Shatter. ‘When we got there, we saw it. Men, women, children. The enemy forces had been in to kill everyone. And they’d left the bodies where they’d fallen before setting the town alight.’

Hence the smell, Rae realised, forcing herself not to speak.

‘We tried to save those few people who were still alive. But it was too late. Plus, we had to go slowly. There was still the fear that some enemy had stayed behind in case we returned, and we didn’t know if we were going to come under fire at any time.’

‘Which is when Michael McCoy died.’

The words were out before she could stop herself.

He froze as if she’d slapped him. So unmistakeable that she actually had to check herself to make sure that she hadn’t.

‘Say again?’

Abruptly, Rae wished she hadn’t started the conversation. It was as though Myles had the power to control the very air around them. A few minutes ago, she’d been walking out in the hot, dry, dusty camp. Now, it felt as though there were a storm rumbling ominously around the darkened room, a chill tiptoeing over her skin leaving her whole body shuddering.

And yet, she wanted to know. She needed to hear it from Myles himself.

‘I heard about Lance Corporal Michael McCoy.’

His jaw tightened. Dark. Lethal.

‘Mikey.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Michael McCoy. Mac, or Mikey, to his friends.’ His voice sharpened. ‘To me.’

‘Right.’ She swallowed hard.

‘What did you hear? How did you hear?’

‘Rafe mentioned it. Once,’ she added hastily. ‘In passing, the night you and I first met at his offices. He said you’d lost a good buddy on that last mission, that you’d taken it hard and that he didn’t know the details but he thought you were suffering... PTSD.’

‘Is that so?’

It wasn’t really an answer. Certainly not the response she’d hoped for. Something tightened around her heart, like an invisible thread pulling it in, painful and constricting.

‘I think he thought maybe I could...talk to you. Help you get over it. I’m good at that...listening. Helping people talk.’

Her voice was raw. It made her throat ache.

She might have known he wouldn’t answer. Instead, he simply turned the tables on her as though he was the one who deserved answers, not her. The way he always did.

‘Is this a game to you?’ Without warning, Myles advanced on her. Too big, too powerful, too everything. ‘A typical Rawlstone Rabble stunt for your own twisted amusement?’