Breaking My Bodyguard novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: The Safe

We drove back to Chicago that night.

Rafe hated it from the first mile.

"Silvio's men watch the house," he said.

"Marisa sent them to the kitchen."

"For how long?"

"A pot of coffee and a story about my father's bad knee."

"That's four minutes."

"It's always four minutes with you," I said.

He gave me a look that was nearly a smile and nearly a threat.

His arm was bleeding again through the bandage.

He had a new graze across his ribs from the cabin that he'd refused to look at.

I knew he'd walk through a wall for me.

I didn't know why that scared me more than the guns.

We parked in the alley behind the Gold Coast house at one in the morning.

The air smelled of wet leaves.

A single window on the second floor glowed, which was Marisa's, and the garden gate stood open an inch.

We went in single file.

The service door opened before Rafe touched it.

My aunt stood inside with her coat over her nightgown and her finger against her lips.

She pointed.

From the kitchen came the clink of cups and a man's low laugh.

"I told them your father was asleep upstairs and the cook was on holiday," she whispered. "They're making the coffee themselves. It won't last."

"Where is my father?"

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