Rescued By the Mountain Man Cowboy (Mountain Man Bodyguard Protector #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

ANNA

“Why is this shit not adding up?” I rub my fatigued, strained eyes.

“Shit.” I always forget about my eye makeup.

I grab a tissue and rub the black eyeliner from my fingers. Sighing, I lean over my desk, squinting at the numbers for the McArther campaign. I’ve been updating the spreadsheet and tracking performance metrics for the last…I check my smart watch.

“Four hours? Holy shit.” I look up and scan the dark office full of cubicles. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows behind me, it’s pitch black except for Portland’s lights casting soft glows of gold and the colorful LED signs.

Which reminds me. “Food,” I mumble as my stomach riots at my forgetting to feed it since lunch.

I save progress on my desktop and pull out my phone to order from my favorite Korean BBQ spot two blocks from the office. My mouth waters as I place my order for Galbi with Banchan, Soon Dubu, and extra Ssamjang. Oh! And a Terra beer cause I freaking deserve it.

I pay and click out of the delivery app before noticing a text from Mom.

Eomma the Beautiful:

Any lantern festivals for Buddha’s Birthday? I need a picturesque, full-body picture of you, please and thank you.

Oh, I know where this is going. Rolling my eyes—thankfully, she can’t see me doing it—I respond even though it’s after eleven at night in Connecticut.

I promise to appropriately celebrate that weekend. I love you, but no, I will not send a picture for you to use to set me up with another nice Korean boy. Give Appa a kiss from me.

I shake my head. Both my parents grew up here in the United States, but there’s no escaping both of my Halmi’s expectations as both grandparents were born in Korea.

Twenty-six and Mom’s still trying to marry me off.

Halmi found out my college boyfriend was Colombian and lost her shit. Elegantly lost her shit, of course.

My boss, Marcus, isn’t going to be happy I clocked in the extra hours, but I’m determined to clean up this campaign, which keeps boggling my mind.

I’m also done being just a marketing assistant.

I went to school for this. I’ve paid my dues.

I’m ready for more creative liberties. I’ve been wanting to lead my own team for a while now.

Two years here at Factor-X Marketing is long enough to move out from under Marcus’ department.

The spreadsheet numbers are just not adding up with the McArthur budget, along with the digital ad expenses. I can’t even find the ad mock-ups from the art department. Marcus insisted on leaving it to the senior positions to finalize and to go home early.

Honestly, I work better in the quiet. The chaos of the office during work hours overstimulates me. I love the dark hush of the building.

My phone chimes with a delivery alert.

“Yes,” I whisper, grabbing my wallet with my phone and heading downstairs to the lobby.

The elevator descends five floors, still playing soft instrumental music even at this late hour. I hum my own tune, walking through the lobby to the front doors where the delivery guy carries my feast.

I tap my company security card on the reader to unlock the front doors.

“Thank you,” I smile, accepting my food and being sure I hear the beep confirming the doors lock before heading back upstairs to our department’s floor.

The agency takes up floors three through eight.

Pressing Five, I stare at floor seven where I want to work before the year’s up.

It’s mid-May. I have less than seven months to impress Marcus and the team.

The sweet, savory spices have my mouth watering. I exit the elevator and turn left toward my cubicle.

Muffled voices?

I pause mid-step at the receptionist area and look over my shoulder. Senior staff offices are on the right. I thought nobody was here.

Just go to your desk, eat, finish up, and go home, Anna.

My mother always said my curiosity would bite me in the ass one day. Frowning, I quietly walk over, passing multiple offices as the voices become clearer.

Marcus?

“This shit isn’t acceptable, and you know it, Larry,” Marcus says quietly. “You fucked with one of the shell accounts. You know better,” Marcus says, patronizingly.

My heart races as all my senses go on high alert. Waves of nervous energy rush up and down my body as I inch closer to the back corner office. The carpet muffles the cautious steps from my flats.

Turn the hell around, Anna. Get your stuff and go home.

“Marcus,” the other person in the office whimpers. “You know me. I’ll fix it. My contact gave me bad information. I won’t let this happen again. Please.”

“It’s not up to me. Like you, they say, jump, I don’t even ask how high.”

My muscles shake as I inch my head around the corner of the door frame. Marcus’ back is to me. The other man in the room is out of view.

What the hell is going on?

“Don’t,” the man’s whimpers intensify as I watch Marcus pull a gun from his back.

My eyes widen as I tighten my grip on the bag of food I’ve practically forgotten. My inner Anna is screaming at me to turn around and leave. Paralyzed to listen, I back away from the door frame and remain plastered to the cold wall, listening.

“Can’t afford losing another four hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Larry. You know how this works.”

“But—”

Pop Pop Pop

Gasping at the clear sound of three muffled shots, my hands clamp over my mouth, dropping the food, which slaps the ground in a deafening echo.

“The fuck,” I hear Marcus say.

My body unlocks, and instinct takes over. I don’t think. I turn and run.

“Who the fuck’s here?” Marcus yells as his footsteps thunder down the hall.

Whimpering, I bypass the elevators and head to the emergency staircase near my desk. I yank my purse off my desk and shove my wallet back inside while running.

“Anna? What the fuck are you doing here?” Marcus yells behind me. “Get back here!”

I don’t look back. My lungs scream as I pull the door open to the stairs and trip down five flights.

“Anna!”

I glance up. Marcus slides around the corner, two flights above.

“Oh, God,” I cry, ignoring the burn in my calves.

I get to the basement parking level. It’s a blur of time as I find my car, throw myself inside, start it up, and peel out of there. My hands tremble violently as I fight to catch my breath.

“Holy shit.” My eyes water as I rush past changing streetlights, racing to my apartment by autopilot.

“What do I do? Do I call the cops? What the hell do I do?” I scream at the windshield.

Who has the balls and arrogance to just shoot someone in a downtown office building? Do people do this? Am I seriously living a crime TV show episode right now?

Normally, I’m twenty minutes from the office. It feels like I got here in five minutes. I enter the parking garage and find a parking space on the third level. I park and look at every mirror.

What if he followed me? Marcus doesn’t know where I live. Of course, he can just access my HR profile for my address. I crane my neck every which way, now paralyzed to get out of the car.

“Breathe, Anna. Calm down. Think,” I mumble, closing my eyes momentarily.

Suddenly, the idea of being in this dim parking garage sends terror in my gut.

Checking my surroundings again, I grab my purse and rush out of the car, straight to the elevators.

I keep my back to the elevator as I wait for it to arrive.

The silence coats the level like thick tar crawling slowly up my legs.

Ding

I rush inside the elevator, smashing my finger into number eight. The moment the doors close, the small space feels like a life raft. I exhale, pressing all my weight against the wall across the doors.

I struggle with my keys to open my apartment door, almost dropping them twice. Cursing, I unlock it, get inside, then slam my door closed, locking it and turning on the front hall light. I spin, searching for…that!

I take the broom I left by the kitchen entrance and place it at a diagonal against the door. I back up slowly, staring at the door, waiting for Marcus to crash through and come for me. I cover my mouth.

I want to call the cops, but every true crime podcast I binged last summer is having a million scenarios crossing my mind. I tuck my foot behind the other, pulling my flats off by habit as I squeeze my phone and lean against the back of the couch, facing the front door.

What if the cops are in on whatever Marcus is involved in? The nonsense coming out of his mouth sounded like he’s a part of something big. He’s not even the one in charge. I can’t call my parents. One, they’ll worry and probably book the first flight here.

I shake my head. No. I can’t risk that.

There’s only one person I can call.

I tap the third person on my favorites list.

My leg bounces as I twirl the ring on my left thumb, round and round.

“Hey, babe! What’s up?” Madison answers.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Where do I even start?

“Anna? Did you butt-dial me?”

“Madi,” I whimper, raking my fingers into my hair, gripping my bangs at the crown.

Rustling noises. Her muffled voice is speaking to someone before she transforms from my closest friend to the ruthless, hardcore lawyer many fear seeing coming.

“Take a deep breath for me, Anna,” she instructs. I listen. “Good. Are you currently safe?” she asks.

“I don’t know. Oh, God, Madi. What the actual fuck is my life right now?” I pace behind my couch, keeping an eye on the door.

“What happened? You’re worrying me.”

“Yeah. You should be worried. I just witnessed my boss kill someone at the office.”

“What?” she asks, stunned.

“I stayed late to finish that stupid campaign that I told you about earlier. Marcus insisted I leave and go home. Of course, I didn’t freaking listen.

I thought I was alone at the office. I ordered food, and then I went back upstairs and heard voices.

Madi, it sounded like some Sopranos shit.

Hunky-dori, pain in the ass, Marcus was all, ‘can’t afford losing money.

You know better.” I’m rambling, deepening my voice as an impression of Marcus.

“The other guy sounded like he was shitting himself, begging Marcus to let him fix it. I don’t even know, Madi.

Then I heard him shoot him. Shoot. Him. It was muffled, which makes me think he used a silencer.

Which, what the hell is this? A video game? ”

“Take a breath,” she calmly says.

“I can’t take a breath, Madi. I freaking froze. Marcus heard, and when I finally ran, he ran after me. He knew it was me. Oh, God. He might be on his way. What do I do, Madi? I didn’t know if calling the cops would work. What if they think I sound crazy?”

“Okay. Listen to me. I’m right here, Anna. One step at a time, okay.”

“Okay,” I whisper, blinking the welling tears away.

“Screw calling. You’re going to go to the police station. I’ll stay on the phone the entire time, okay. You’re not alone. Get your purse, babe, and get in your car. Let’s get you to the police station. I’ll guide you on what to tell them.”

“Okay, okay,” I nod, bending to pick up my purse.

I slip my flats back on. At the door, I freeze.

“What if he’s outside my door?” I whisper.

“Check the peephole.”

I lean in and squint into the hole. Nobody. I remove the broom and quietly unlock the door before inching it open. I keep my phone to my ear as I peek through the small gap.

“I don’t see anyone,” I whisper.

“Okay. Good. Let’s move, Anna. Get to your car. Now.”

I kick into gear and forgo the elevator and go for the building stairs to the parking garage.

“I’m right here, Anna,” Madison says, typing something. “I’m searching for any information we might need.”

“Okay,” I say, out of breath.

In the parking garage, I take that elevator to the third level and head to the back right where I parked. As I power walk closer, a rush of frigid cold fills my veins.

“Madi,” I whisper.

The typing stops. “What?”

Across the space, the back windshield of my Honda is completely smashed. The back tires are all I can see from here, and they’re both flat. I whip my head around.

“My car,” I whimper. “He got to my car. The back glass is broken. My tires are flat. Shit, shit, shit.” I turn around, checking every direction. “What if he’s here?”

“Get out of there. Get out to the main street where there’s people, Anna. Now.”

I run. Every muscle in my body is tight and protesting, but I make it downstairs and almost crash into a couple on the sidewalk.

“You okay?” the woman asks.

I nod, walking away.

“Okay. Change of plans. I don’t want you alone over there,” Madison says, typing again. “I’m getting you a rental. I’m paying for it, so nothing is under your name.” I open my mouth to protest. “Don’t argue with me on this. You’re going to drive to me.”

I frown, still on alert of every stranger passing by. “To that ranch you live in now?”

“Wild Peak Ranch. Yes. I already have a ride share on their way to you. Get to the drugstore across from your apartment and wait inside until I tell you they’ve arrived. They’ll take you to get the rental, and we’re going to figure this out.”

“So, I don’t call the cops?” I ask.

“Honestly, babe. My instinct tells me we should wait till you get here first.”

“I trust your instincts better than mine right now.”

“Good. I got you. We’ll figure this out. I promise,” Madison says firmly.

“Wild Peak.” I exhale. “Okay.”

What other options do I have?