Guarding Miranda (2 page)

Tonight, it had been baroque.

Baroque!

He would have faked an episode of diarrhea if it wasn’t for the fact that missing the date would mean he’d have to miss out on one of her amazing date night blowjobs.

“So am I to take it that you enjoyed the performance, my dear?” He asked her blithely, steering her toward the parking lot, where he could see his pewter colored Mercedes gleaming beneath the lot lights.

“Immensely, Richard.  And you?”

“Yes?” 

“What did you think of the baroque?”

“What did I think of it?” He echoed her, stalling for time while he formulated the response that
she
would most like to hear.

“Definitely my cup of tea,” he lied, his jaw clenching as he spoke. 

In truth, Richard had struggled to stay awake during the two hour performance. 

Even the half hour intermission had been a bore. 

He of course preferred live baseball games and televised football broadcasts over violin solos and harpsichord dramas. 

In short, he had hated the baroque, hated every passing second, every minute of it. 

It was too much like elevator music.

Worse than that, it was chamber music...

Classical garbage.

Stuff that psychotherapists probably loved to fuck to.

His hand at the small of her back, he urged her toward the car. 

The quicker he got her to the car, the quicker they would get back to his penthouse. 

The quicker they got to his penthouse, the quicker he could get her into his king sized bed, where her mouth would be less busy with curious questions and gushy reviews and more intent on satisfying him. 

He smiled at the thought of the dirty things he could get her to do simply by professing his love for her.

Love
. 

He had to stifle a laugh as the word crossed his mind. 

The only things he really loved about her were her hot body and inherited fortune. 

For now, he had to make do with the hot body – the fortune, he knew, wouldn’t be his until after they married and once she had the accident that he intended the insurance company to additionally compensate him for. 

It was a shame, having to kill her down the road but dumb rich bitches like her were easy to come by.

Richard glanced sidelong at her breasts straining against the material of the strapless gown.

Yes, her hot body would do.

For now
. 

He kept his hand on the small of her back and steered her through the rows of parked cars, guiding her in the direction of his car. 

Miranda warmed at Richard’s touch, thinking that he was making a gesture of affection, rather than hurrying her along.  She glanced at him from the side and felt her breath leave her chest. 

He was so handsome, in his charcoal designer wear, what with his sun tanned skin such an attractive contrast to the white of his dress shirt. 

Surfer-blond and mind-numbingly attractive, he was thirty years of age and she figured he was just beginning to mature in the looks department.  She had known him for nearly two years now and the more he weathered, the more gorgeous he seemed to become. 

His baby blue eyes always beheld her with such interest, such playful intent, just as they did now.  She was always aware of how incredibly good looking he was and so she always tried to keep herself up to date where fashion, hairstyles and other routine maintenance was concerned. 

She knew that she was lucky to have him.

He was the kind of fish that a girl like her didn’t want to get away. 

He was always so doting on her, so attentive, so affectionate...

What was more, he loved her! 

He always told her so. 

And he showed his passion for her often, both in and out of the bedroom.

As she looked at Richard, she couldn’t help but wonder what his father looked like or if perhaps he more closely resembled his mother.

She wouldn’t ask him, though.

Not ever again. 

The last time she had asked him about his family had also been the first.

The conversation had turned into their first argument.

Richard spoke of his parents very rarely and when he did, it was without favor, none to fondly.  At his insistence, his parents were not going to be at their wedding, which in her eyes was a pity. 

Miranda thought it was unfortunate that he would have such a poor relationship with his parents, when in truth he should have been glad to be lucky enough to have both of them alive. 

She wondered what tragedy, what great horror could have put him at such odds with his parents.

What could be so horrible that the Albas could not work it out?

She herself had lost a mother, father and brother in one tragic evening, ten years before. 

Not a day went by that her heart did not ache for them.

Not a day went by that she did not feel the pain of what she had lost when she was seventeen.  She was grateful to her Uncle Russ and Aunt Nancee for taking her into their home and their hearts but no surrogate love, no surrogate family could ever replace the one that she had lost…

Family was important to her. 

The Gundy clan was her most valued most beloved thing in the world.

Not to mention, her greatest support.

She wished that family were important enough to her fiancé for him to attempt to work out his problems with his parents. 

Surely the rift between them wasn’t too wide for filial love to close the distance? 

Even though she feared angering him, she resolved to bring up the issue one day soon, to see if she couldn’t convince him to give them another chance, to try to work things out.

They were soon standing in front of Richard’s pewter Mercedes. 

He unlocked the doors with the keyless remote and surprised Miranda by pulling her into a hungry kiss. 

His lips were warm and demanding, very fervent as he kissed her. 

His kiss stirred in her a warmth that she recognized as the early signs of her arousal.  His hands found her breasts and gave them an eager squeeze.

She swatted his hands, her cheeks heating with embarrassment.

“Richard!”

“What?” He feigned innocence.

“Not here, not in public.” Miranda laughed, chastising him lightly. 

He was so naughty.

“Yeah, I’d hate to give one of these patrons of the fine arts a heart attack.” Richard spoke with sarcasm, keeping one arm around her. “Worse yet, a hard on.”

He lowered his hand from her shoulder to her lower back and then he copped a feel.

“Get your hand off my ass!” She swatted his hand again.

“Oh but it’s such a nice ass.”

“Richard!”

He reached for her again. “I really can’t help myself.”

“You’re shameless,” she scolded him but he silenced her protest with another ravenous kiss. 

When at last they parted, a smile adorned each of their faces.

Surrendering to her will, Richard opened the passenger door of the car for her.  She slid into the leather-bound seat and was slightly alarmed by the sudden sound of heavy quickening footsteps behind her beloved, coming closer and closer...

“Hey, Richard!” Came a man’s raspy voice, as the footsteps drew nearer.

Miranda would never forget the look of surprise that crossed her fiancé’s face in that exact instant. 

He turned around and faced the man.

“Barry?” Richard asked, of the approaching figure dressed in black. “Is that you?”

Miranda gasped in startled surprise.

Barry
was wearing a black ski mask over his face. 

As he extended his hand toward Richard, the lights of the parking lot glinted off of something metallic there. 

It had taken her only a split second to identify the object in his hand but even as she did, she could not believe her eyes.

A handgun? 

Why was this
Barry
pointing a handgun at her fiancé? 

She was frozen to her seat, her stomach knotted with fear. 

Terror made her heart stop and then begin to pound violently as her adrenaline came in a rush.

As horrified as she was, she couldn’t have moved if she wanted to...

The color had all but drained from Richard’s face.

“Barry, what the fuck?”

The man in black lifted the handgun a few inches. 

“Curtains for you, Richard.” His gravelly voice was gruff and full of menace as he said, “Consider this an end to our business arrangement.”

Miranda saw him pull the trigger in the same instant that something warm and wet sprayed the front of her face. 

She was deafened by the gunshot, yet she barely acknowledged it, even though it had been fired right in front of her.

Deafened by the gunshot, stunned, she reached her hand up to wipe away the gore, just as Richard’s body went limp and began to fall.

Barry turned the gun on her. 

She saw the dark ink of tribal tattoo art on his wrist, behind the gun but was far more spellbound by the gun itself than by any of the man’s features.

“Say
goodnight
, princess,” Barry sneered.

“Oh God…”

She looked directly into the man’s face then, too terrified to scream. 

She looked right into his cruel brown eyes and saw the hint of a smile through the slit of his ski mask, the flash of yellowed, twisted teeth in the dim light.

A gold-capped tooth flickered as he pulled the trigger and this time she heard the gunshot at the same time that the bullet struck her, in the shoulder, with all the violence of a kick from a horse. 

The shattering of glass behind her didn’t sound right, somehow, as her momentum carried her back into the driver’s seat. 

It was funny. 

Even though her ears rang from the assault of the two gunshots, she heard the footfalls of Barry running away, followed by the squeal of car tires on the concrete.

Her entire shoulder was numb and she felt something warm running down her back.  Shocked by the turn of events, she found that she could not move her left arm. 

With her right hand, she touched her fingers to her left shoulder, just above the seam of her gown and then pulled them away, wondering why they were wet.

She looked at her fingers and wondered why they were sticky with red. 

It’s blood
, she thought, stupidly, examining her fingers closely.

Why am I leaking blood
?

It was her last thought, as the shock set into her system and the swift mercy of unconsciousness came to claim her. 

Chapter Two:

Brian was out of his car by the first gunshot and running as fast as he could by the sound of the second.  He saw the man in the black ski mask running away from Richard’s Mercedes and then speed away in the waiting sedan. 

He watched Richard’s body slump even further to the concrete. He was dialing nine-one-one on his cell phone by the time he was half way across the parking lot. 

“Miranda!” He yelled hoarsely.

Oh God, is she alright?

He couldn’t see her.

His brain registered the shattered driver’s side window.