Page 1 of The Bodyguard's Fall

Two Years Earlier

Tate

The wedding was running late.

I checked my watch and pulled at the tie that was cinched too tight around my neck. Ten minutes late shouldn’t seem like a big deal, but in a tiny Sunday school room packed with three other sweaty groomsmen in an old Vermont church with no air conditioning, it might as well have been ten days. The white, steepled church looked nice from the outside but was a blazing inferno on the inside. But my best friend Will's bride-to-be, Meg, had to have it. It was the church she grew up attending, and apparently, it held a lot of memories for her. I had decent memories of the church I grew up going to, but that was probably because there had been air conditioning.

The door opened, and Will stepped inside. He was looking classic in a black tux. His blond hair had been combed to one side, making him look more nerdy, but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. His face was grim, and I immediately racked my brain for something I could say to him in case his bride had just called the whole thing off. Sweet and gentle was not something that came naturally to me.

“Sorry, guys. Kenzie, the maid of honor, has been in the bathroom, puking her guts out for the past twenty minutes. We think it’s something she ate. They were trying to see if she’d feel okay enough to still walk down the aisle, but it’s looking like a no-go.”

Then he looked at me.

“Someone’s taking Kenzie home, but Meg wanted me to move Liv to the maid of honor position, so she’ll be walking down the aisle with you.” He cocked his head to the side. “Can you handle that?”

I raised my eyebrows in question.

Will gave me a look. “You can’t pick a fight with my sister or else Meg will kill me,” he said. “Can you be nice?”

“I’m always nice.”

“I’m serious,” Will said as he adjusted his black bow tie. Other than his dorky hair, he looked sharp. Happy. Good for him.

“I’ll do my best,” I said, eyeing his tux. “I’ve just got one question. How do you like your vodka martini?”

He grinned. “Shaken, not stirred.” He fiddled with his collar while my brain processed this new information.

Liv Rawlins.

Her presence on my arm would certainly liven up my time here. We’d had a rehearsal dinner last night, but Liv wasn’t able to attend. So this would be the first time I’d seen her in a few years–and suddenly, the prospect of this meeting made the sweat worth it.

Will had always been extremely protective of his little sister, which meant that, by default, I was as well. By the time Liv was a senior in high school and Will and I were rookies on the police force, looking out for her had become a habit. It became funny to sit in the booth next to her and her date in a restaurant. Or pull over her boyfriend—whom we both hated—to walk the line on occasion. We were her watchdogs. Basically harmless, but definitely the kind of watchdogs that were always sniffing around in her business and removing her from parties or her boyfriends’ cars.

Which, as a teenager, Liv had loved. Absolutely loved.

In our defense, there had been a year of her life after her parents’ divorce when she’d needed some extra pairs of eyes looking out for her. But deep down, I’d loved Liv like a little sister. I was happy to tease her and just as happy to park next to her date’s car on Make-Out Ridge and flash my lights. But it had been a few years, we’d all grown up, and no matter what I told Will, I would be nice.

“How’s my collar?” Will asked, turning around and pulling me from my thoughts.

The collar looked fine to me, but I pretended to adjust it so Will would think I’d done something useful.

“Is there any way you could get some AC running in this place?” I asked, pulling at my shirt.

Will wiped at a bead of sweat dripping from his temple. “The reception center has air conditioning. Just get through this, and don’t pick a fight with my sister.”

“What is she, twenty-five now?”

He gave me a side-eye. “Yeah.”

“So, just to be clear, you need me to walk down the aisle with your very legal, very cute sis⁠—”

“Stop.” He gave me a warning look.

“Can you ask your photographer to do some of those poses where the whole wedding party has to kiss?”

He inserted my name next to some colorful insults, which was exactly what I was waiting for. He had nothing to worry about, and he knew it. We had a brotherly code of ethics. But there was something about Liv’s blonde hair, big eyes, and sassy disposition that triggered my protective instincts. I’d just as soon rip another guy’s face off if he looked at her wrong.

I wouldn’t touch her.