The Bodyguard's Temptress

Chapter 12

Knox

I wake up, groaning. Shit. It's been a while since I've taken pain medication. Combined with already being exhausted, four pills might've been too many. I probably haven't slept this long in months. 

Stretching my aching back from sleeping in the seat, I check the cameras in Natasha's room on my laptop. Is she sleeping or being stubborn and staying up all night watching TV?

My blood runs cold as I don't see her on the bed. I quickly click through the rest of the screens—she's nowhere in the fucking room.

Rewinding the feed, I see that she left at 9:47. Ten minutes ago.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I pull up the tracking app on my phone—Natasha is six minutes away from the bakery. But why? Why the fuck is she going there so late without protection?

There's no time to trace her calls and texts. I start my car and zoom out of the parking lot, weaving in and out of lanes, doing 110 mph on the highway. If the cops want to pull me over, they'll have to catch me first. 

And even then, I'll put up a fight. The police chief may fear Andre, but he should be even more afraid of me. Because if something happens to Natasha, I'll hunt down every cop in the city and kill them. 

I skid to a stop a few spaces behind the bakery. Retrieving my pistols from the glove box, I shove one into my waistband, holding the other in my hand as I cautiously but quickly maneuver to the back of the building. 

The backdoor is closed, but I slowly creak it open. With years of experience, I don't have to see to recognize my environment. I lurk in the darkest corners of the bakery, making my way through until I stop behind a wall in the kitchen, where I hear muffled voices in the office and walk-in. 

Peeking around the corner, I see four men in the office, breaking into the safe. Natasha must be in the walk-in. 

They have her. 

They have my little temptress, and they're probably hurting her at this very moment. 

The image of her afraid and crying flashes in my mind, instantly sending an inferno of rage coursing through my body. 

Two men walk into the walk-in and close the door, leaving two in the office. With the silencer on my gun, I slip into the small room and eliminate all of them before they even realize what's happening. 

I have no use for them, anyway. Their boss is either with Natasha or waiting for the job to be done. This isn't a random robbery. Natasha was lured her, but by who? 

Brandon. 

That's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would she come here so fucking late?

I inch closer to the walk-in, blood rushing in my ears as I prepare to burst in.

"No! No!" Natasha's muffled voice pierces through the door.

I kick open the door, quickly assessing the room. Natasha is unconscious in a masked man's arms, her hands bound, while Brandon is tied to a chair. 

Fury flows through the veins, my vision blurring with rage. Before they can react to my entrance, I shoot the two empty-handed men standing beside Natasha and then the one seconds from blowing Brandon's brains out. Only the man holding my little temptress is left. 

He'll suffer the most. 

Panic flickering in his eyes as he presses a gun to Natasha's head. "Take more step and I'll shoot her, man. I-I mean it," he warns, his voice trembling.