Bodyguard of Lies by Bob Mayer Read Free Book Online Page A

above her brought tears to her eyes and she was using her fingers to wipe them away as the car door opened.
    If Gant noticed her crying, he said nothing but he did nod toward the food as if it would banish her sorrow. "I wasn't expecting any company so the house is kind of bare."
    Neeley grew nervous at the mention of his house.
    As if sensing this, he offered her a large hand. "My name is Anthony Gant, but everyone just calls me Gant."
    She took his hand with trepidation and mumbled, "Neeley."
    "Well, Neeley, it seems we've been tossed together for a while. If it makes you feel any better, what happened this morning will be our secret. I've had stranger mornings."
    Neeley looked at him. "If that's supposed to make me feel better, it doesn't. It's definitely been the strangest morning of my life and strange isn't even coming close. I could have been responsible for hundreds of deaths today. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"
    Gant stared at her hard. "Actually, I do."
    The conversation ended with that and they avoided even glancing at each other during the short trip to Gant's house.
    Gant's home turned out to be part of a large multi-family dwelling made from the same yellow stone as the commissary. There were children everywhere. As Neeley and Gant walked the chalk-streaked sidewalk to his door, they dodged bikes, skates and curious glances.
    "This is the last place I'd expect a man like you to live," Neeley said. "Isn't your wife going to be surprised?"
    Gant paused as he unlocked the door. "My wife's not here."
    He pushed her through the door into the living room of the small apartment. "She left a few weeks ago and went back to the States with my son." He continued to talk as he carried the bags into the kitchen and unpacked them. "I can't really blame her. I've been gone eleven out of the last twelve months. Her note said if she was going to live alone, then she wanted to live alone. I was going to fly over and plead my case when I saw you at the airport."
    He shook his head at her look of surprise. "Don't worry. You haven't altered my family's life plan or anything. She wouldn't have come back and I was just going for myself. You know, to say I did, that I tried. My son barely knows who I am and the only way that would change is if I became someone I'm not. Sometimes it pays to know one’s limitations as much as one’s capabilities."
    Neeley sank down on the Swedish modern couch and closed her eyes. There was something disturbing about what he said and yet he had saved her life and many more. She leaned her head back and was sound asleep when he returned with eggs and toast. He gently woke her. After eating, he took her to a small bedroom and she immediately crawled into the bed he offered and fell asleep once more.
    She slept a long time, waking only once to note her surroundings. She was in a child's room, in the bottom bunk. She could distinguish the outlines of toys and spaceships and when she lifted her head to adjust the pillow, the faint moonlight fell on the happy faces of the most recent Star Wars characters. She fell back asleep as easily as throwing a switch.
    When she awoke again it was light outside and there was a persistent tapping at the door.
    Gant's voice was muffled but audible. "Neeley, are you awake?"
    She threw back the comforter and tried to sit up but banged her head on the top bunk in the process. In the daylight she could see the entire room was homage to Star Wars. Neeley felt sadness for the little boy who had left everything he loved. She knew exactly what that boy was feeling.
    She walked out of the room. Gant was seated in a chair facing the front window, his fingers steepled, a cup of steaming coffee next to him, and one for her on a small card table.
    "Do you know why you were given that bomb?" Gant asked.
    Neeley suddenly felt tired despite her night's rest. She told Gant about Jean-Philippe, the strange people he associated with, and the last couple of years of her life.