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Nash plowed into her like a linebacker going in for a tackle. As his body slammed into hers, an explosion lifted them off their feet and flung them several feet through the air.
Londyn landed on her back, her head hitting hard enough that her vision blurred.
Nash landed on top of her, forcing what little air was left in her lungs out with a whoosh.
She lay completely covered by the big man, her ears ringing, unable to breathe or make sense of what had just happened.
As her vision cleared, Nash leaned up on his arms, his hips still pressing hers into the earth. “Are you okay?”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. With no air in her lungs, her vocal cords wouldn’t work. Her eyes widened.
“What’s wrong?” Nash’s frown deepened. “Can you breathe?”
She shook her head.
Nash covered her mouth with his and blew air into her, forcing her lungs to expand, reminding them how they should work.
When he lifted his head, she released the air in a rush and coughed. “What...the hell...happened?”
He rolled off her, sat beside her and tipped his head in the direction of her trailer.
Londyn pushed up on her elbows, her ears still ringing. Her heart dropped to the pit of her belly as she took in the twisted metal and fiberglass littering the ground where her trailer had once stood.
She looked from the wreckage to the man beside her, his leather jacket torn in several places and several cuts bleeding on the back of his neck and hands. If he hadn’t taken the time to “check” her trailer...
What the ever-loving-fuck was happening? She hated to admit it, but her mother had been right to send help.
“Still think you don’t need a bodyguard?” Nash asked softly.
Londyn’s lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m willing to reconsider.”
CHAPTER 2
“From what I could see before it went off, it was plastic explosives with a timed detonator pressed into it,” Nash said to the sheriff and his deputies who had responded to the 911 call.
Within twenty minutes of the explosion, the movie set had been inundated with emergency vehicles, fire trucks and a news helicopter.
Several protestors had received minor injuries from flying debris and were being treated by the first responders.
The evening sun had sunk below the horizon, cloaking the wild Wyoming landscape in darkness, except for the floodlights positioned around the set, blinding at some points and casting long shadows at others.
Nash had refused their care, more concerned about keeping an eye on his client, Miss Tyler-Lovejoy. She stood with the director, a reporter and a news cameraman, a blanket draped over her shoulders. Every so often, she’d lift her head, her eyes shifting back and forth as if searching the crowd. When her gaze connected with his, she held it like she’d been looking for him.
“Why exactly were you looking beneath the trailer in the first place?” the sheriff asked.
“I was hired to protect Miss Tyler-Lovejoy,” he said.
“Were there other attempts on her life that made protection necessary?” the sheriff asked.
“I was told there were two other incidents that raised suspicion,” he answered, his gaze holding Londyn’s.
The sheriff frowned. “Why were these incidents not reported?”
“You’ll have to ask the director and Miss Tyler-Lovejoy. I wasn’t here when they happened.”
“Does Miss Tyler-Lovejoy have any enemies, disgruntled ex-boyfriends or employees who would wish her harm?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her. I just met the woman today.” And almost lost her within the first thirty minutes on the job.
