Bodyguard Lockdown by Donna Young Read Free Book Online Page B

loyalty.” Booker turned on his heel and headed for the well in the middle of the settlement. “And sometimes it just takes putting the right amount of money in the right hands.”
    Aaron fell into step beside him, blew out a stream of smoke. “LikeI said, you are too close to the situation. It has become too personal, my friend.”
    “I’m not your friend,” Booker answered, his words clipped. He hung a clean shirt—an army issued khaki T-shirt—over the well wall and pulled up the bucket from the water.
    “And it was never anything but personal.”
    “You know what I think?” Booker pulled his shirt off and dropped it to the ground. “Maybeyou need to find a hobby.”
    “Or maybe I should fall in love with a woman,” Aaron argued, then grinned. Booker hesitated for a split second, enough for Aaron to know his insinuation hit its mark.
    “She’s a means to an end.” Booker splashed the cool water on his face, scratched the whiskers that scraped against his palm. “I had little choice.”
    Booker splashed more water on his chestand armpits.
    “I don’t blame you. She’s smart. Beautiful. And rich.”
    Booker grabbed his clean shirt, dried off with it, then put it on. “You keep going and you’ll have two limps to deal with, Sabra.”
    “Love makes things complicated, doesn’t it?” Aaron mused, staring at the tip of his cigarette.
    “What the hell are you talking about?”
    “You are in love with the woman who mightbe responsible for your wife, Emily’s, death.”
    Booker faced Aaron, his hands fisted. “How the hell did you get ahold of that information?”
    “All it takes is putting the right amount of money in the right hands.” Aaron repeated Booker’s earlier words, his features sharpening. “She doesn’t know, does she?”
    “No.” Booker’s eyes narrowed. “And if she finds out—”
    “Don’t worry. Yoursecret’s safe with me. Over the last few months, I’ve grown found of Dr. Haddad and what she’s done for the desert people. Enough that I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news.”
    “Booker!”
    Sandra stepped from the doorway. The sun caught her hair, deepened the black until it shimmered. With quick fingers, she twisted her hair up and secured it in a loose bun. Then wrapped a white linenscarf around her head and neck for protection.
    “Men’s clothing never looked so good on a woman, has it?” Aaron said.
    The light cotton pants and shirt were man-sized. A small man, Booker realized, noting that the clothes fit snug over the hips, and stretched across her derriere.
    He clenched his jaw, just for a moment, remembering how his fingers cupped the round curves earlier inthe car. His body tightened with need—and frustration.
    She made her way to the nearest horse trough. Once there, she adjusted the medical bag back farther on her shoulder, leaned over and washed her hands.
    “Doctor Sandra!” Suddenly, a group of children ran toward her. Their mothers followed. Within moments, Sandra was surrounded by many of the villagers. Some hugging her, others showingher an injury or talking rapidly in an attempt to explain—what, Booker didn’t know.
    It appeared most just wanted to wish her a warm welcome. Sandra hugged the women, then knelt down and hugged the smaller children. The boys and girls too old to hug, she would tug on a lock of hair beneath a scarf or pat them on the head.
    “I told you, she is loved by these people whom Taer and its kinghave forgotten.”
    “Do you think he has really forgotten? Or just remembers differently?” Booker asked. He had to admit, he’d never seen Sandra so happy.
    It seemed to him that when she could not find her place among her own family, she found another out in the desert.
    Sandra broke away from the crowd and waved to Booker. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I want to use the outhouse.”
    “No,” Aaron shouted before Booker gave his approval.
    “Why?” Booker asked, then watched Sandra start toward them