Falter (Guardian Protection #3)

Chapter 1

LOFTON

“Help me,” I whispered into the phone, pinning it between my shoulder and ear. Zoey’s pajama-clad legs dangled at my side as I held her with my palm sealed over her mouth. Her tears felt like acid to my soul as they dripped over my fingers.

I could barely hear the nine-one-one operator over my heart pounding. “Okay, ma’am. What’s your emergency?”

“Someone broke in and—” Another gunshot exploded outside the door. I wasn’t sure where it had come from or who had fired it, but the blood on the bottom of my bare feet didn’t leave me with much hope. Flinching at the sound, I momentarily lost my grasp on Zoey’s mouth.

“I want my mommy,” she cried.

“It’s okay. She’ll be here soon.” I lied, or at least I hoped I had. Brooke would have no doubt been a calm head in the midst of chaos, but with her out picking up dinner, it was safest for her to stay far, far away.

“Ma’am,” the dispatcher called, refocusing my attention. “What’s your address?”

“I, uh, I don’t know. It’s a rental, up on…on…um—” My brain went blank.

“Siena Place?”

“Yes! That’s it.”

“Okay, I’ve got help on the way. Is anyone injured?”

“My… my bodyguard. He was shot, I think…God, I don’t know. There was blood and…”

“Okay, and what about you? Are you injured?”

“No.” Spinning in a circle, I frantically searched the small bathroom.

No window.

No exit.

No escape.

My beloved privacy had never been more terrifying.

I set Zoey on her feet. Releasing her felt wrong on every level, but whoever had broken in wasn’t there for her. Opening the linen closet, I guided her toward it.

“Tofton, no,” she sobbed my nickname while fighting against me.

Desperate and quickly running out of options, I put the phone on the tile floor and squatted to her level. A steady stream of tears fell from her ocean blue eyes.

“Baby, come on,” I pleaded. “It’s okay. You know Marty and Derrick are out there.

We’re safe. We just have to hide until the police get here.

” It was a bald-faced lie. I’d stepped over Derrick’s lifeless body, and I had no clue where Marty was.

I prayed like hell he wasn’t on the receiving end of that last gunshot.

I nudged her toward the closet. “They’re going to take care of us, but I need you to get in there. Cover up with as many towels as you can.” I offered her a smile that should have won me a second Oscar. “Pretend this is just a game of hide-and-seek? You go in the closet and hide until I find you.”

She shook her head, lip quivering. “I don’t want to pretend.”

God, did I understand that, but this was my life.

A life I’d chosen.

A life I’d sacrificed for.

A life most people would envy.

And now, I feared it was going to be a life my Zoey was going to die for.

I brushed a curl off her forehead and traced my thumb back and forth over her tear-soaked cheek. “Keep quiet, and don’t come out no matter what you hear, okay?” I kissed her forehead hard, letting it linger as it shredded me. “I promise. I’ll be right out here.”

She sniffled, her shoulders shaking with unshed sobs, but my girl was brave. Reluctantly, she ducked into the closet. I made quick work of burying her in towels and then quietly closed the door.

With her hidden, I put the phone back to my ear.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you still there?” the dispatcher called.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Please hurry.”

“I have help on the way. Do you know who broke in?”

“No, I didn’t see anyone. I just heard the gunshots and took off.”

“Okay, stay on the phone with me. What’s your name?”

“Lofton Beck.”

There was a blistering pause on her end. Silence so thick it buzzed in my ears. Not even the clack of keys as I hoped she was dispatching the entire police department.

Then—

“Lofton Beck?” she questioned, her voice rising, laced with awe and disbelief.

My spine snapped straight. This was not the time for the celebrity spotlight to work its paralyzing magic. “Please, just send—” I was cut off by a sudden banging on the bathroom door.

Like a beacon of hope, Marty’s voice came from the other side of the wooden barrier. “Lofton, open up.”

My chest exploded, an audible burst of relief tearing from my lungs as I darted to the door. My hand was already on the knob when suddenly I froze. A small voice in the back of my mind screamed with caution.

Was it truly safe to unlock the only barrier of safety we had left?

“Lofton,” Marty called, weak and desperate. Predictably reading my mind, he rumbled, “It’s just me. Nobody else.”

My fears fueled my indecision. But it was Marty.

I’d trusted him with my life for over sixteen years.

He would never steer me wrong. With my heart in my throat, I slowly unlocked and then cracked open the door.

I put my eye to the narrow slit. At the sight of him, relief flooded my chest—until his knees buckled.

“Oh God!” I gasped as the door cracked me in the forehead. Pain exploded behind my eyes, but I managed to catch his body as he fell into the bathroom. The phone went skidding across the tile as his weight dragged us both down to the floor.

“No, no, no!” I chanted as I scrambled from beneath him and knelt at his side.

Blood—so much blood—covered him.

He grunted as he rolled over. Using incredible effort, he slid himself backward to prop his shoulders against the vanity. Through it all, his gun was held tight in his palm.

“Shit, you’re bleeding.” His tired gaze flicked to my forehead. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

The blood pooling from his back said otherwise, but lie or not, those words were all it took for Zoey to believe him.

“Marty!” she cried, bursting out of the closet.

Blinded by fear, she didn’t seem to grasp his condition. I tried to catch her as she darted past me, but she flew toward him like she’d been launched from a catapult.

He let out a deep groan as she plowed into his side, crying, “I want my mommy.”

He curled a weak arm around her trembling body. “Shhh, I got ya.” Lifting his eyes to mine, he ordered, “Nine-one-one.”

I pivoted on my knees and grabbed my phone off the floor. “I already called.”

He lifted a shaking hand. “Give it to me. You go lock that door.”

Nodding, I dove into action. My feet slipped on the tile as I slammed the door and twisted the flimsy lock. It was an insult of a barrier between us and an armed madman.

Marty rasped into the receiver. “Male suspect—” He broke into a violent cough.

“Six feet. Dark clothes. Ski mask. Armed. I got one man down, a couple of holes in my chest, and a woman and kid scared out of their minds. Suspect took off out the back door, heading southwest. We need police and medical now.” He paused.

“Yeah. That’s right. I’ll leave the line open, but I’m putting you down. I gotta secure this room.”

I heard the operator reply as he dropped the phone, but her voice barely touched the storm of panic roaring in my skull.

“Lofton,” Marty prompted before extending the butt of his weapon toward me. “You gotta do this.”

I leaned away as if he were offering me a snake. I didn’t know the first thing about guns, much less how to properly use one. “What? No, I can’t—”

“You can.” His gaze hardened despite the glossy haze in his dark brown eyes. “If I pass out, someone needs to guard that door.”

“You said he was gone?”

“He is. But I’m not taking any chances he comes back. I get you’re scared.”

“I’m a little more than scared here, Marty.” I choked.

“It’s okay.” He tried to force a smile, but it came off as a grimace. “You’re not drowning, kiddo. And even if you were, it’s impossible for you to sink.” He chuckled softly, in a way he usually reserved for the good times. And oh, God, had we had some of the absolute best times.

I was sixteen when he escorted me to a Comic-Con.

My first public appearance after a low-budget indie film somehow exploded into an overnight box-office phenomenon.

I was so nervous when I got out of the car, fans and paparazzi rushing us.

He simply hooked me around the waist, told me to look down and keep walking, and he’d handle the rest.

And he did, for well over a decade.

He was there the night I won my Oscar, standing just offstage while my name echoed through a room I didn’t believe I belonged in.

He was there for the first premiere that felt too big, the first red carpet where the flashbulbs sounded like gunfire, and the first time someone screamed my name like it was theirs to claim.

He watched me buy my first house, then upgrade to a mansion when the paychecks started to grow.

He danced at my wedding and then stood guard at closed doors while I fell apart during my divorce.

He covered my face and guided me through crowds when my mother died and I couldn’t afford to be seen breaking down.

He was there when my career turned from luck to legacy. When I learned the difference between being approachable and being safe. When the world decided my worth, he still treated me like that innocent sixteen-year-old with stars in her eyes.

Every major moment of my life bore the indelible mark of his shadow.

He was more than just my bodyguard. He was my family, my friend, and as much as a father to me as my own.

And now, I was suddenly terrified I was going to lose him too.

He once again pressed the gun toward me. “I need you, kiddo. I swore a long time ago, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I’m not going out on a broken promise.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” I croaked, tears streaming down my face. “Do you understand me?”

“Loud and clear, boss. But I’ll be a lot more comfortable knowing you two aren’t either.”

Call it false bravado, years of acting experience, or maybe just the definition of finding yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place, I took the proffered gun. The moment it was out of his hand, Marty’s whole body sagged as if he were a soldier finally relieved from duty.

The mere thought of that shattered my heart all over again.

Keeping pressure on his wound with one hand, I settled beside him, gun held high and aimed at the door.

And then we waited.

My finger hovered over the trigger.

A tragic harmony of Zoey’s muffled cries and Marty’s shallow breaths were the only sounds in an otherwise silent house.

I sent up prayers to a God I hadn’t spoken to in years, pleading for help.

They went blisteringly unanswered as the seconds dragged on, stretching into cruel minutes.

The walls pressed inward.

Time hovered.

A purgatory of waiting.

Marty was honest to a fault. He had never once lied to me.

Until that day.

It wasn’t impossible for me to sink, because I felt my feet hit the depths of the ocean’s floor, as I helplessly watched him die.