BODYGUARD TO THE BRIDE

     The elevator came to a stop and the door slid open. With the skirt of her wedding gown bunched in her hand, Zoe held the door ajar, waiting. An older man started to step outside his apartment.

     “Get back!” she yelled to him. “They have guns!”

     The elderly man took in Xavier running down the hall with the suitcase, Zoe in her wedding dress and the gun on the carpeting behind him. Without a sound he darted back inside, slamming his door shut.

     “Go!” Xavier ordered.

     Running footsteps pounded down the hall toward them. The doors closed and Xavier pressed the button for two.

     “What are you doing?”

     “Hoping they’re dumb enough to run to the first floor.”

     “We’ll be trapped!”

     “Know anyone on two?”

     “Yes, but we can’t put anyone else in danger.”

     He hit the button for one. “Think you can climb in that dress?”

     “You have to be kidding. I’m getting married I can’t get this dress dirty.”

     “Right.” The door opened on two. “Which apartment?”

     “227. Down the hall around the corner, but—”

     “No buts, remember?”

     Grabbing her hand he tugged her in his wake. There was no sound from inside apartment 227 even after he rapped hard on the door.

     “They probably aren’t home,” she told him breathlessly.

     “Good. Let’s hope their deadbolt is as cheap as yours.” Stepping back, he aimed a kick at the panel beside the doorknob.

     “What are you doing?”

     “Saving our lives.” Three kicks and the door sprang open. Zoe gaped. Xavier hauled her inside and shut the broken door. “They’ll need a new lock.”

     “Are you crazy?”

     “Those men have guns,” he reminded her.

     “Don’t you?”

     “No.” He scanned the dark interior, tugging her toward the balcony.

     “What kind of bodyguard doesn’t carry a gun?”

     “The kind trying to save your life. Come on.”

     “What are you doing?”

     “It isn’t going to take them long to figure out where we went,” he warned as he opened the balcony door. “Hopefully, right now that old man is calling the police. I wish I’d thought to pull the fire alarm.”

     “I am not climbing off a second story balcony,” she panted.

     He eyed her dress. “Yeah. Might be a stretch. I’ll lower you.” Tossing her suitcase to the ground and grateful it didn’t open and spill what had to be half the contents of her apartment, he grabbed her around the waist before she realized what he was going to do.

     “No! Stop! I’ll get hurt! I’ll break something!”

     “Make it your arm,” he told her as he swung her, kicking and struggling over the railing. “You’re going to need your legs to run.”

     She shrieked as he let her go.