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“Your red spangly dress is a bright, shiny target to this shooter.”
“Oh.” She frowns. “But I can’t run around naked.”
As much as I might like the view, she’s right. Everyone has a camera on their cell phones these days, and she doesn’t need that kind of exposure. Hell, we’re lucky that everyone is too busy running for their lives to notice us tucked into this narrow alley.
I yank my T-shirt from my waistband and tug it over my head, leaving my torso covered in a thin wifebeater. The T-shirt is damp with my sweat and it smells like me, but that’s all I’ve got to give her. “Put this on.”
Sophie takes the shirt from my hand, her gaze glued to mine. “Where am I supposed to change?”
But she knows the answer; I see it on her face.
“I’ll block you.” After all, she’s tiny. I’m pretty big. We’ll make it work. “But we don’t have time for modesty.”
She hesitates an instant, then drops one strap of her low, scoop-necked dress down her arm, followed by the other. As she does, one thing becomes obvious: Sophie Larsen isn’t wearing a bra.
I start to sweat again, and this time it has nothing to do with heat or danger.
Holy shit.
Jerking my gaze back to the street, I resolve to give her what privacy I can. I’m sure she has weirdos and jackoffs say skeevy things to her all the time. If she didn’t, she would never need to hire a guy like me.
From my peripheral vision, I see her lower her dress to her waist and catch her lipstick in her hand. She’s wearing some sort of nude-colored stickers over her nipples that adhere to the upper swells and lift her obviously full rack. But I’m not staring. Really, I’m not. But…they’re right there. I blow out a breath as she shimmies from the dress to reveal she’s wearing one of the tiniest, most transparent thongs I’ve ever seen. A single glance—damn, I did not mean to look—and I can tell she’s a natural blonde.
Seconds later, she whisks my shirt over her head, covering everything. It swallows her small frame and hangs all the way to the middle of her thighs. It conceals way more than the dress she had on.
“Are you attached to this?” I fist the red fabric.
She shakes her head. “I think it’s horrible.”
“Good.”
Grateful for the nearby dumpster, I toss it, glad when the bright, glittery ball of sequins clears the rim and disappears into the heap.
“What about my shoes?”
“Can you run in bare feet?”
She steps out of one stiletto. The instant her foot touches the hot asphalt, she hisses and jerks away. “No.”
“Understood. Let’s do something about your hair.” Because pale curls hanging nearly to her pretty, swaying ass will definitely draw attention.
She had mine the moment I set eyes on her.
“How?”
I rummage in my pocket. I’ve got a rubber band I used to hold together a couple of boxes of ammo I loaded into their magazines on my way here. “This work?”
“Yes. Can you hold this?” She hands me her lipstick.
As I pocket it, she grabs her hair and shoves it without much care into a messy bun, then twists the rubber band around it until the pale mass stays. It’s not optimal, and I wish like hell she had a hat and athletic shoes, but this will have to do. At least she’ll be a less obvious target now.
And we’ve been in the alley too long. We’re sitting ducks.
I jerk my head to the side. “Up for running? We have to get across the street.”
She nods. “Let’s go.”
I take her hand again and slink to the edge of the building. Pandemonium still rules the streets. With the mad dash of people and all the barricades closing off the parade route, I imagine local law enforcement is having a difficult time getting into the area. Instead, police are pouring in on foot, but we can’t afford to be swept up in the crowd. It’s not safe for Sophie since I have no idea who’s behind this attempt on her life. And we may end up separated. It’s my job to get her to safety, and I intend to do it.
Since I haven’t heard any new shots, I suspect the shooter has closed up shop and is doing his best to blend in with the crowd. We need to do the same, so I lead Sophie out onto the sidewalk. Then we jog across the street. If she was anyone but a well-known star, I’d pull her into the drugstore—one of the few businesses open during the holiday—and wait for the area to be cleared. But her face is liable to cause a commotion, which is the last thing we need. And just because I don’t see anyone on our asses now doesn’t mean we’re in the clear. The shooter could be blending in to hunt her down.
