The Bodyguard by Lena Diaz Page A

hospital and having to pay homage to the man who’d put her there in the first place.
    The idea made Luke sick and wish he could bring the bastard back from the dead and kill him himself.
    The parking lot around him was filled with media vans. As soon as the Ashton Rolls-Royce pulled up the circular driveway to the front of the hospital, reporters converged on them like a swarm of mosquitoes.
    His cell phone vibrated on the seat beside him. He glanced at the screen, then put it on speaker. “Hey, Mitch.”
    “You still at the hospital?”
    “Sitting out front. The Ashton limo just drove up. She should be out soon. Are you in position?”
    “I’ve got the best spot in the cemetery picked out. Not close enough to the party to be obvious, but close enough to observe and photograph everyone who shows up. I’m starting to like this P.I. stuff. You might have to expand the business and make me lead detective.”
    “Guess that depends on how well you do today. I’d say don’t make a scene taking pictures, but with the media horde that will be there, you aren’t going to stand out anyway. Alex will have someone there taking pictures, too. Between the both of you, if Alex’s theory that the killer will be there is true, we’ll at least have him or her on camera and be able to start a list of potential suspects.” He shook his head at the crowd of reporters trying to get past the police line at the hospital for a better angle for their cameras. “Then again, counting the press, we’ll probably have hundreds of people to look into.”
    “Doesn’t bother me at all. Like I said, I’m enjoying this. It’s a heck of a lot better than sitting in the office all day.”
    “Speaking of which, who’s looking after things while you’re playing amateur sleuth?”
    “Trudy.”
    Luke squeezed the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got my business being watched over by a hooker?”
    “Ex-hooker. She’s gone respectable, trying to make a living with her feet on the ground for a change.”
    “Since when?”
    “Well...playing office secretary might be her first real gig, but I think it’s great for us to give her a start toward a better life, don’t you?”
    Luke rolled his head on his shoulders, trying to relieve the growing knot of tension. He was all for helping the less fortunate, but not at the expense of his livelihood.
    He was about to set Mitch straight when the passenger door to the limo opened and one of the Ashton-estate security guards got out. The hospital doors swished open. Out came Caroline Ashton, looking extra pale in a conservative black dress, being pushed in a wheelchair by a nurse. Beside her was her so-called friend Leslie Harrison. A bevy of security guards surrounded them both, preventing any of the reporters from getting near her. Luke had to admit that he was impressed with how Stellar Security had handled the situation.
    “I’ve got to go. They’re helping Mrs. Ashton into the limo. After the burial, get those pictures straight to Alex.”
    “You got it, boss.”
    Luke ended the call and eased out of the parking lot, keeping well back from the Rolls-Royce and the caravan of press hounds sniffing in its wake.
    * * *
    H UNDREDS OF PEOPLE who’d worked for Richard at his various companies turned out for the viewing at the funeral home. Caroline tried to be gracious as she sat up front and accepted their condolences. But it was hard to smile and listen to so many people who had such wonderful stories to tell about her husband, when she’d seen so little of that warmth as his wife.
    By the time the viewing was closed and everyone had filed out except the funeral director and security guards, and, of course, Leslie—who didn’t seem inclined to ever leave her side—Caroline’s nerves were stretched so tight she thought she might start screaming like the madwoman so many people believed her to be.
    “Caroline, we should go now or we’ll be late for the burial,” Leslie said.
    Leslie’s worries