Page 6 of Saving Jennifer

Noah watched as she exchanged words with the security detail, then made her way to the front door alone. He moved to the foyer, arriving just as the security system announced an entry code being entered.

The door opened and she stepped inside, backlit by the porch light. In person, she was more striking than her photograph suggested—tall and poised, with her dark hair cut in a fashionable style, the short length curving against her chin. Though he normally preferred long hair on a woman, this style suited her.

But what caught him off guard were her eyes. In the photograph, they’d shown defiance. In person, they assessed him with an intelligence that was almost unsettling. The vulnerability he’d caught in the photo he’d studied earlier wasn’t present anywhere in the woman standing before him.

“You must be Noah Temple,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of a French accent. “You’re earlier than expected.”

Not the greeting he’d anticipated. “Traffic was light, and I wanted to check out the surroundings before you arrived,” he said shortly.

She didn’t move from the doorway. “Mr. Carpenter said you’re military. Special Forces.”

“Former military,” Noah corrected. “And this isn’t a job interview.”

“Isn’t it?” She crossed her arms. “Because I didn’t ask for another bodyguard, especially one who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.”

This wasn’t going as Gator had outlined. The old man had led him to believe Ms. Baptiste not only expected him but had agreed to the arrangement.

“That makes two of us who’d rather be elsewhere,” Noah replied. “Are you going to come in, or should I do my job from the porch?”

A flash of something crossed her face and disappeared just as quickly. She stepped fully inside, closed the door behind her, the lock engaging with an electronic beep.

“I’ve already told Mr. Carpenter and Mr. Boudreau I don’t need a babysitter.” She moved past him into the living room. “I’ve managed just fine on my own.”

“Is that what you call three days in the hospital? Managing fine?”

Her spine stiffened. “That was an unforeseen complication.”

“That’s one way to describe attempted murder.” Noah followed her into the living room. “Look, I’m not here to cramp your style or take over your life. I’m here to keep you alive until Mr. Carpenter’s man returns from Colombia. Two weeks. That’s it.”

She turned to face him, her expression guarded. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

“I plan to adapt to the situation as it develops,” Noah said. “But there will be some ground rules. Non-negotiable ones.”

“Such as?”

“You don’t go anywhere without me. You don’t meet with anyone I haven’t vetted. You don’t take unnecessary risks.” He held her gaze. “Basic security protocol.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And my work? I have depositions scheduled with the district attorney. I also have clients; I won’t let my work suffer because the Amirs think I should be unable to testify.”

“We’ll make it work.” Noah crossed his arms. “But your safety comes first.”

“Taking down the Amirs comes first,” she countered. “The Amirs put the life of a child at risk, a member of their own family. Mr. Temple, I am not a good person, I have never pretended to be, but even I would not risk the life of an innocent. If they’re not stopped, they’ll do it again, and that is unacceptable. Salem and Chloe deserve to be safe, to have a happy life.”

There was passion in her voice, conviction that went beyond professional obligation. This wasn’t just a case to her—it was a mission.

“I understand commitment to a cause,” Noah said, his tone softening slightly. “But you can’t finish your mission if you’re dead.”

Something in his words seemed to reach her. Her shoulders relaxed marginally.

“Mr. Carpenter briefed me on your background,” she said. “Though he was surprisingly vague about why you dropped off the grid for three years.”

“My personal history isn’t relevant to this assignment.”

“Isn’t it?” She took a step closer, studying him with those unsettlingly perceptive eyes. “I’m trusting you with my life. I think I’m entitled to know who I’m dealing with.”

“You’re not dealing with me,” Noah said flatly. “You’re under my protection. There’s a difference.”

Her lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Samuel Carpenter said the same thing right after the Amirs nearly succeeded in killing me while I was under their ‘protection’.”