“Cora Valeur!” I shout. “Are you home?”
I wait a bit and yell again. “Miss Valeur? Cora?”
Then I go to the window next to the door and try to peek inside. Damn curtains. I can’t see anything, but there’s no movement inside the room.
“Ahhh.”
A moan. Someone’s moaning inside.
I press my ear to the window and try to listen.
Fuck, there it is again. That moan. Something’s happened to her. I’m supposed to protect her and I’m already failing at my job.
“Cora? Do you need help?” I yell again, and there’s a moan in response. I think. “I’m coming in.”
I return to the door, assessing its strength. I don’t think I can break through her front door; it looks solid.
I walk around, circling the house.
A pool.
Just as I thought.
The smaller window near the handle catches my eye. Bingo.That’ll be easy to break. I remove my jacket and wrap it around my fist.
“Cora Valeur!” I shout again in one last attempt to get a response.
No choice now. I swing hard, the glass splintering under the impact. Shards scatter, and I reach through, flicking the lock open. Slipping inside, I land in what looks like an art gallery. No alarms. Rich people and their lazy security always amaze me. I’ll have to fix that.
I survey the living room and kitchen, making sure no one’s here, andthen I climb the stairs, one foot after the other, one hand resting on my weapon. I didn’t see any signs of forced entry, so I don’t expect anyone to be here besides me and her but can’t take chances.
I count six doors on the upper floor. I press myself against the wall and open the first door with a quick motion. I peek inside.
Empty.
I move on, doing the same process with all the rooms. Opening door after door, scanning to make sure no one’s there and moving on.
When I reach the last room on the left, soft, sensual music drifts through the slight crack in the door. I hesitate, the unexpected sound throwing me off, but then I push it open and peek inside.
A scream pierces the air, high-pitched and terrified.
For a split second, she’s frozen, wide-eyed, staring at me like a deer caught in headlights.
I’ve walked straight into a fucking porno scene. My brain short-circuits for a second—woman, half-naked body, buzzing toy, absolute chaos.
“Fuck. Sorry!” I say, turning away and squeezing my eyes shut, my heart hammering.
“Who are you, and what are you doing in my bedroom?” Her voice is shaky but full of bravado. “I have a gun! I’m calling the police!”
The buzzing stops, and so does the music, leaving the room in dead silence.
“Don’t shoot! I’m Ryder West, your new bodyguard,” I choke out. “I thought you were in trouble. Clearly, you’re...fine. Very fine.”
“Turn around,” she demands.
I turn with my hands raised and open one eye to a slit, then both when I see she’s pulled the blanket over herself.
Her hair is shimmering blonde, loose, and messy around her shoulders, her eyes blue and enormous, and a blush covers her cheeks. Her full lips are parted, and she’s panting.
