Scotland For Christmas Part 27

The movie's producers had misrepresented all these facts. But the cruelest alteration had been to Jacob, because while Malcolm and Rhiannon knew the truth of what had happened, Jacob had no idea.

He deserved to know what had happened to his father.

One thing this exercise had accomplished-it made Isabel angry. This was Jacob's life, and n.o.body seemed to care enough to help him find answers.

She did.

JACOB HITCHED A ride from Eddie at the end of the day, hopping out of the SUV at the wrought-iron gates that led to Isabel's campus. She'd asked him to meet her at the student deli inside the business school, so he walked down a wide lane and turned into the impressive facility that was her current work turf.

He picked her out right away. She was seated at a table with one of her project groups, all four members-two men and two women-sitting with their laptops open. One of the men and both women were dressed for business; the other man was Charles-Che Guevara, himself.

Jacob tensed for a moment, remembering that Charles had invited Isabel to his home for Thanksgiving. Then again, she had chosen Jacob. Isabel was with him, not Charles.

He relaxed a bit, loosening his tie. He was glad he wore a suit because it made him fit in.

The energy of this place wasn't what Jacob remembered from his own college experience. Instead, this was a rarefied world, definitely a world-center powerhouse of future business leaders, economy drivers, bankers, venture capitalists and entrepreneurial wizards.

He looked around. All these future captains of international commerce in one room.

Out of habit, Jacob checked the layout. No windows and two exits. Securitywise, it was better designed than her residence building.

"Jacob!" Isabel got to her feet and motioned him over to her table. In a breezy style that he was starting to understand was uniquely hers, she introduced him to her colleagues. Two of them, Charles and one of the women, seemed young to Jacob, but he nodded politely without comment.

"So," Isabel asked him brightly, "would you like to walk to your flat?"

"Yeah. I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Me, too," she said.

"You go first."

It was a long walk, but a half-moon was already out and the sky was clear, not cold. After he transferred her laptop case to his shoulder, they fell into an easy rhythm.

"I called my uncle today," Isabel said, placing his hand on her arm, "and I relayed your request to him."

"You did?"

"Yes, I did." She grinned at him, and he couldn't help smiling back at her. He watched her long hair fan out in the breeze, loving the way the ends of it stuck to her lips.

He reached out and moved a piece, rubbing the texture through his fingers, before reluctantly letting it go.

"Do you want to know what he said?" Isabel asked, a small smile on her lips as she watched him in the dim light of street lamps and shop windows.

"Ah...yeah." He s.h.i.+fted her laptop to his other shoulder. "What did he say?"

"He said that he prefers to give you the information you asked for in person." A furrow appeared on her brow, and she looked up at him hopefully, her big blue eyes just cutting him in the heart. "So...do you still want to go to Edinburgh for Christmas?"

"Will you be there?" he said in a low voice.

She nodded. "Of course." But then her smile faltered.

"Isabel, what's wrong?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure he's willing to trust you the way that you might hope."

No, Sage probably never would. That was fine with Jacob. Sage also wasn't likely to give him any information freely. Not without leverage.

He stopped suddenly and pulled Isabel close to him. His nose was in her hair, and he inhaled deeply. He hadn't expected the depth of these feelings for her. He just wanted her with him. As often as possible.

He drew back and gazed at her. "Do you trust me?"

"I do, but sometimes it's still hard for me." She looked up at him. "Is there anything you're not telling me that could hurt my family or our company?"

He shook his head. He still hadn't decided what he was going to do about Sage's negotiation tactic. That was Jacob's final conundrum.

"Just so you know..." He took her hand and interlaced their fingers. "I'll never have anything to do with the media-newspapers or television-and I don't post anything on the internet. I don't do social media, and I don't want any money from anybody. I'm not going to sue people. My mother isn't going to sue people. Is that what Sage is worried about?"

She nodded. "Those are the types of risks he'd be considering."

"Nothing bad will happen," he rea.s.sured her. He kissed her earlobe, and she sighed and laid her head on his chest.

A deep contentment spread over him. "I'm proud of you, you know that?" he said, suddenly feeling effusive toward her, as if they weren't going full-blown PDA on a New York City street corner, and he didn't even care. "I love that you're strong and you're going after your dreams. Once you're where you deserve to be, you won't be subservient to anybody. I'd never want you to push aside your dreams while I live mine, do you know that?"

She'd fallen quiet, growing rigid against his chest as he'd talked.

"Did I just say something wrong?" he asked, pulling back.

"No. You respect me, and that's lovely."

"Isabel?" he growled.

She sighed. "Truthfully? I wish we had more time."

He did, too. But he wasn't naive enough to think they were going to magically find an alternate universe where he wasn't a bodyguard at heart, and she wasn't Isabel Sage of the Edinburgh Sages.

Silent again, they both began to walk.

"I, ah, got some news at work today I need to tell you about," he said. "n.o.body outside my job will know this except you."

"Hmm, let me guess," she said. "You'll be guarding a very important person this week?"

"You're good. I'm impressed." And so sad that they'd made it to the point where they were starting to read each other's minds right before they'd need to say goodbye.

She smiled sadly at him, too.

"It's because of you, actually," he went on, "and because you're helping me with this thing about my father. My, ah, boss-" actually, Diane "-has agreed to approve me for a short-term fill-in a.s.signment with a team that's guarding a pretty high-profile Was.h.i.+ngton protectee."

"You mean you're leaving now?" There was shock in her voice and in her eyes.

"Not quite. I leave town tomorrow night. I think the whole thing is a test of sorts."

"Why? What's happening?"

He shrugged. "Can't say." Because it was top secret. He leaned over and kissed her. Her cheek felt cold in the night air. "Anyway, I'll be out of town for three days total."

"And nights, too?"

"Yeah, unfortunately." He paused. He really couldn't tell her more about the mission, but there was an irony that made him wonder about Diane's motives. "When I come back, are there any special places in New York that you'd like to visit with me? I want to cram in as many experiences with you as I can, in as short a time as we have left."

"I do have something in mind," she said softly.

"Where? We have Broadway, Lincoln Center, the Statue of Liberty, Central Park. Or, knowing you business types-" he snapped his fingers "-the New York Stock Exchange."

"I prefer your flat," she said.

"My..."

"Specifically, your bedroom."

There was a twinkle in her eye that took his breath away.

"I can handle that," he said, thankful they were almost home. His leaving tomorrow night...this was going to hurt.

"Yes, and you can go on the road knowing there is one person in this world who is thinking about you every day and every night." She stopped on the stoop of his building and gave him a heart-stopping kiss.

He was the luckiest person he knew. Later, upstairs in his apartment, they ordered a pizza, and Jacob helped her as she wrote out answers to her take-home final exam. In his opinion, she didn't need his help at all, though he didn't mind listening as a sounding board while she mused aloud. h.e.l.l, he could listen to her read anything in that musical Scottish brogue of hers, even something as mundane as the definition of a corporation versus a business partners.h.i.+p.

After an hour of him behaving himself so she could finish her work, Isabel put away her laptop and curled up in his arms as they sat on the couch. "Take me to bed, Mr. Ross."

He happily obliged. She didn't have to ask twice.

IT WAS A SUNNY Thursday afternoon in Manhattan when the unthinkable happened.

Jacob had been a.s.signed to guard, not quite the president of the United States, but the president's young daughter, who was leaving town after a dance performance and on her way home to her secondary school in northern Virginia.

Jacob wished he could have conveyed the pride he felt over being chosen to protect someone so vulnerable and so high-profile. This was what he'd trained for. He walked in formation with the escort team, leading the girl from a matinee at Lincoln Center, back to their motorcade.

Jacob's a.s.signment was to ride in the vehicle beside the girl. It was a routine, everyday operation, planned, ordered and well orchestrated. Every agent was top at their game. Every risk thoroughly researched and contained.

But the shooter broke through a barricade and stepped out suddenly on Jacob's side. There was no question as to how Jacob would react. All the agents would have done the same.

Jacob did what he was trained to do. It was a split-second decision, made without thought.

He reached in front of the girl, covering her, shoving her out of the line of fire, and he took the bullet meant for her. He felt it slice into his neck, felt himself go down.

On the pavement of the New York City street, Jacob put his hand to the entry wound, and there was so much blood. He thought of his mom. He thought of his siblings and Daniel. And he thought of Isabel. He felt a great rush of love for all of these people.

But there was buzzing in his ears, and he felt weak, and the blood didn't stop coursing. The last he remembered was that all went dark.

ISABEL WAS LEAVING a closed roundtable discussion in her adviser's office when she heard the news. A fellow student filing out of the office ahead of her in line turned on his smartphone and read the headlines. "Someone from the president's family was shot at," he remarked.

"That's terrible," Isabel said. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Yes. A Secret Service agent is down."

And then Isabel was shaking, fumbling with her phone, turning it on and dialing Jacob's number.

"Isabel?" A female picked up the phone, not Jacob. She was sobbing.

"Who is this? Where is Jacob?" Isabel asked.

"It's Emily. Jacob's been shot."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

ISABEL PRESSED HER knuckles to her mouth and swallowed a scream. This couldn't be happening! She'd just seen Jacob-she'd left his home this morning, and he'd been fine. She felt a fear so terrible she'd never dared imagine it.

Her knees buckled, and she found herself kneeling in the middle of the busy corridor.

"He was guarding the p-p-..." Emily was crying so hard that she couldn't say the word.

"Where are you?" Isabel asked. "Where is Jacob?"

"The h-hospital. Saint something." A voice in the background p.r.o.nounced the correct name.

"I'm coming," Isabel said.

"My mom's here, too. And my dad."

Isabel wasn't family, and she didn't have the right to go to him-but she was driven by something she couldn't explain. "Please tell them that I need to be there, too."

And then she didn't hesitate. She stood and sprinted as fast as she could to the street and craned her neck searching for an available cab.

Her phone rang, and it was Jacob's number again. "I'm on my way," Isabel said to the person she a.s.sumed was Emily.

"This is Eddie. I'm with Emily at the hospital. Where are you?"