YULETIDE PROTECTOR by Julie Miller

stretched up on tiptoe, trying to get another glimpse of the photographer. But there was no one to see. She couldn’t even be sure which car or truck he’d gotten into.
    She sank back onto her heels and glanced up and down the lane of parked vehicles. There was no movement anywhere except for the lines of traffic on the street behind her.
    “Where did you go?” she whispered, backing her hip against the cold, wet fender of her Lexus. Since when did the paparazzi want a picture of her at anything other than a high-profile social event? And how did this particular photographer know who she was, all bundled up like this, or where she’d be?
    “Call me if anything makes you feel nervous or you sense any kind of threat.”
    Spencer Montgomery’s terse warning from the day before echoed in her head. She slipped her fingers into her coat pocket, closing them around his business card.
    Was this a threat? Should she call the detective?
    She’d been an assignment for him yesterday—and an annoying one at that. He’d delivered Chief Taylor’s warning about keeping herself safe. He’d drilled it into her head more than once that she was woefully unprepared for the challenges of the trial. Spencer Montgomery didn’t think she could take care of herself. But she could. She had to.
    Bailey’s gaze darted to the sound of an engine turning over in the distance. She had no doubt the photographer’s attention had been on her. That he’d taken one or more pictures of her.
    She heard wheels squealing against the pavement, burning away the snow and slush until they found traction. The noise drew her attention to the smoky exhaust rising from a black car some thirty yards away.
    She watched the black roof of the sedan backing out of its parking space and turning, not toward the exit at that end of the parking lot to make a quick getaway, but down through the long lines of cars between Bailey and the building. He might be one row over, but the driver was creeping closer. He was coming toward her.
    “Idiot.” The air whooshed out of her lungs as sense returned. She didn’t waste a moment trying to figure out the driver’s identity, whether he might be someone with the legitimate press or more gossipy tabloids, or even if he was something much more sinister. Bailey dashed around the car and climbed inside, locking the doors behind her.
    Take care of yourself , Bailey .
    Swearing at her own foolishness, she tossed the scraper to the floor boards and squeezed her hands around the steering wheel. Counting her breaths so she wouldn’t hyperventilate, she flipped on the lights and wipers and shifted her car into Reverse, repeatedly checking her side-and rear-view mirrors to track the position of the black car.
    The driver hadn’t reached the end yet, hadn’t turned the corner to either take the south exit or come up the lane where she was parked.
    Sensing some sort of short reprieve, Bailey quickly backed out of her parking space and shifted into drive, heading in the opposite direction without giving any thought to her destination. Away was all she had in mind. Get away .
    Her pulse rate quickened when she spotted the car in her rearview mirror. Bright lights. Dark windows. No chance to see the driver inside.
    Bailey pressed harder on the accelerator as the car behind her picked up speed. The driver hadn’t exited the parking lot. He was following her. He wanted something more.
    She turned a quick left toward the north exit but had to pump her brakes and slide to a stop at the beginnings of rush-hour traffic clogging the street. She needed to go left to get to her gym and apartment, and turned on her signal. But until the stoplights switched at the nearby intersection, there wasn’t going to be a break in traffic.
    And the black car was coming closer.
    “Come on, red light.” Bailey’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel. She didn’t even have an opportunity to turn right if she’d wanted to. All the people who