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“Whoever this so-called admirer is, it has to be someone who works at Colton Oil, because I spend all my time at Colton Oil,” she told him.
Bowie showed just the barest hint of a smile.
“Well, not all your time,” he told her, his eyes moving down to Marlowe’s waist and lingering there for the briefest of moments.
Marlowe sighed audibly. “All right, except for that one anomaly,” she allowed. “Which wound up with me getting pregnant, as well as getting my very own creepy stalker—and someone trying to kill both of us,” she said in disgust.
“The least I can do is get you a bodyguard,” he offered Marlowe as he reached for the phone on his desk, drawing it closer.
Marlowe quickly stopped him from lifting up the receiver. When he looked at her quizzically, she said, “Like that won’t be at all conspicuous,” she told Bowie, vetoing the idea. “Look, if I wanted a bodyguard, I’m perfectly capable of getting one myself,” she informed him.
“But you won’t,” he guessed. The woman was too stubborn for her own good.
She shrugged off what she knew he was implying. She wasn’t being stubborn; she was being practical. “A bodyguard will only get in my way,” she informed him.
“Yeah, well, so will a bullet,” Bowie countered matter-of-factly. “What if Callum kept an eye out for you?”
But she shook her head. “I really don’t think this guy is out to kill me,” Marlowe told him. “You, maybe, but not me.”
Bowie laughed shortly. “Well, that’s reassuring,” he said sarcastically. “Would you stop pacing?” he asked her. “You’re making me dizzy.”
“Cold-blooded killers generally don’t leave cute teddy bears as their calling cards,” Marlowe pointed out, telling him the conclusion she had reached now that she’d had time to think about the situation. “And before you ask, I had Security take this guy apart to see if maybe he’d been wired with explosives or something else equally as lethal. Turns out that the teddy bear was just an ordinary teddy bear. Whoever left this,” she lifted up the bear again, “was either just trying to get my attention, or at the very most, to unnerve me.”
“You can’t take that for granted. If he’s playing games like that, it could easily escalate,” Bowie told her. “Look, I’m going to get that bodyguard for you, so you might as well stop arguing with me. I can either do it with your permission, or behind your back. It’s up to you, but one way or another, you need to wrap your mind around the fact that you are going to get extra protection. I am not about to look back at this down the line and regret the fact that I didn’t go with my instincts, and because I didn’t, you and our child are no longer part of the equation.”
“So now we’re part of some equation?” Marlowe questioned, clearly trying to goad him into an argument.
“Don’t change the subject, Marlowe. I am getting you that bodyguard. And don’t worry, he’ll be totally vetted. His only job will be to look after you and keep you safe. That means that he’s not going to give a damn about w
hatever company secrets you might be harboring and could divulge. He’s just going to be there to watch your back—just in case.”
He knew Marlowe’s suspicions wouldn’t be entirely put to rest, but she was going to have to trust someone, and it might as well be him.
“I’ve got your word on that?” she asked.
He was surprised at her phrasing. If she was being serious, that meant that they were finally making some headway, he thought, pleased.
“Are you willing to take my word?” he questioned, watching her face for any telltale signs that she assented.
She raised her chin and her eyes held his. “Yes,” she answered stoically.
“Then yes, you have my word on that,” he told her.
When he saw the smile that slowly bloomed on Marlowe’s lips, it hit him just how worth it all of this had been. Even though he tried to seal himself off, her smile really got to him.
Marlowe’s phone buzzed at that moment. Forced to glance down at the screen, she read the text that had come in for her.
It was from Callum, inviting her to come with him to Mustang Valley General Hospital. He intended to try to find out just who had been on duty that fateful night that the person they had come to know as Ace had been switched with the “real” Ace.
We’re going archive hunting, the text told her. Want to come help?
“More bad news?” Bowie asked, looking at Marlowe’s expression.
That was when she remembered that she hadn’t told Bowie about the results of the DNA test—and the subsequent fallout that bombshell had had.
But that was a story for another day, she decided. She didn’t want to get into it right now, nor did she really have the time to try to field any of his questions, legitimate though they might be.
“No,” she answered. “No bad news. Possibly good news,” she continued, keeping her response deliberately vague. “I really won’t know until I actually get there.” She tucked away her cell phone as she started to go for the door. “Oh, Bowie,” Marlowe said, turning around to face him just before she opened the door and walked out, “about the bodyguard...”
