Excerpt
Jock grabbed Amanda by her shirt collar. “Don’t go out there.” He pulled her back and stood between her and the door.
The wiry teen lifted a leg and sent a black high-top tennis shoe toward the man’s groin.
Jock backed away and crossed his forearms over the attacker’s shin. He blocked a hand coming toward his face before he wrapped his meaty paws around the girl’s skinny upper arms. “Amanda, I’m here to help. I’m not going to hurt you.” She struggled, but he held firm. “You’re in a lot of trouble.” He pointed his forehead toward the dining area. “Those men were here to kill you.”
Amanda squinted at the stranger. His words sounded far away and did not match his moving lips. Wincing, she slammed shut her eyes and put a hand to her right ear. A second later, she covered both ears and shook her head.
“Don’t worry. Your hearing will come back. Just give it some time.” He let go of her arms, but kept his body coiled to fend off another assault. Retrieving his gun, he swapped out the partially spent magazine for a full one.
Noticing the black steel in the man’s hand, her eyes bulging, Amanda retreated, until she hit the wall.
Jock saw the look of terror on the teen’s face. He pumped a hand at her. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He holstered the 1911. “I promise.”
“How do you,” she swallowed, “how do you know who I am?”
“I know a lot about you, Amanda. It’s my job to find out everything I can about the ones I’m protecting.”
The girl cocked her head. Protecting. The word had a soothing tone. She gave the man another once-over, stopping at his gray eyes, which were silver in this light. They’re like…sparkling or something. After blinking several times, she gaped at him. “How can I trust you?”
He dipped his forehead toward the area beyond her shoulder. “You saw what I did back there.”
The image of the dead man’s half a face flashed across Amanda’s mind. Her stomach churned.
“Trust me. I’m not here to do that to you. I’ll sooner forfeit my life than let anyone lay a finger on you.” A low siren wailed in the distance. “The police are going to be here any minute.”
She regarded the man and heard his words in her mind…the ones I’m protecting…“Isn’t that what we want…the police?”
Jock shook his head. “I’m afraid in the long run they won’t be able to save you. If you come with me, I can make sure your problems don’t follow you wherever you go.” He paused. “I can help you start a new life.”
Hearing the sirens—they were growing louder—Amanda gawked at the door. A new life…is that even possible? She glanced over her shoulder, toward the noise, the arriving police…they won’t be able to save you. She came back to the man and squinted at his handsome face…I’ll sooner forfeit my life than let anyone lay a finger on you.
“So how about it?” Jock smiled. “Some say I have the face of an angel.”
Amanda grinned before she could stop herself. “I’ve heard the same thing said about sociopaths.”
Chuckling, Jock glimpsed the floor. “Okay, maybe that was a bad analogy.” A moment later, he went deadpan. “The truth is, when your back’s against the wall, sometimes you just have to have a little faith,” he waited a beat, “and trust someone.”
“And that someone’s supposed to be you? I don’t even know your name.”
He held out a hand. “St. Christopher,” he paused, “My name’s Jacob St. Christopher.”
