Page 92 of What Doesn't Kill You…

It didn't come.

Instead, he kept his distance as he spoke. "If you're looking for your husband, I know where he went."

Everything within Violet stilled because his accent was straight out of Glasgow. This wasn't one of Damien's hired soldiers. This was the man who'd ruined her life. The world shifted slightly as she stared at her stalker.

"Your welcome?" she asked.

He nodded, keeping a wary eye on her. "I didn't know if I should follow him or wait for you," he said, as though they were having a normal conversation.

The man made no threatening moves. In fact, he lowered his head slightly, as though deferring to her. As though, she was in a position of authority over him. Definitely military, Violet thought as she cautiously lowered her hands.

"You saw where he went?" She added a hint of command to her tone.

He responded by standing straighter and nodding sharply. Oh, yeah, he was obviously looking for someone to tell him what to do.

She was happy to oblige. "Show me," Violet ordered.

The man inclined his head before jogging down a path running parallel to the beachfront. "He thinks he can get into Poole's house from the waterfront. I saw him heading into the trees before I came back for you."

Violet followed behind him. "That's stupid. It's jungle there and it's guarded."

The stalker glanced back at her. "The guards are inside because of the weather, but the bush is dense."

"I'm beginning to think my husband is too," Violet muttered. "Do you have a phone?"

"Don't need one," was the reply, so no luck there.

As they rushed through the empty resort, Violet wondered if she was making a big mistake following her stalker instead of going to Rodrigo for help. But time was running out fast and her instincts told her she was safe with this man. After all, he'd never tried to hurt her, only the people who'd attacked her, and that trait could come in handy in their current predicament.

"Why didn't you attack Max?" she asked as they raced past the watersports shed, locked up tight against the weather.

"Because he isn't a threat to you," he said, confirming her suspicions. Dark, and possibly mentally unstable, eyes caught hers. "Is he?" The implication being he would deal with Max if he was.

"No, he isn't a threat to me," Violet assured him. "But he sure as hell is one to himself."

Her stalker grunted and Violet was pleased to discover they spoke the same language. Several long minutes later, they entered the dense bush that kept the resort guests from wandering into Damien's private domain.

"He went this way," the stalker said, leading her into the wall of green.

“You got a name, soldier?” she asked.

“Alan Thomas.” There was a pause. “Ma’am.”

“Want to tell me why you’ve been following me all these years?” It probably wasn’t the time to ask, but she had to know.

He frowned in confusion. “You’re my mission,” he said at last. “You’re the warrior and I’m the protector. I keep you safe so you can do good.”

Okay then…

“By any chance, were you injured in action?” she asked.

“IED,” he said. “Head injury.”

That explained so much. “Did you spend time in hospital?”

“Lots of hospitals.” He looked back at her, his expression filled with pure determination. “I won’t go back.”

“Understood,” she told him, and they carried on in silence.