Soldiers in the desert? My God, this guy is beyond cuckoo and now he’s becoming enraged.

I suddenly noticed what Marie slid out from the top of the cooler—a very intimidating black handgun that she seemed to have no problem holding.

Dear God . . . cameras? Guns? What’s this place turning into? A Twilight War Zone?

Surely Mike will be beamed into the middle of the room in Doctor Who’s Tardis ship at any moment.

“Sir, I’m asking you for the last time to leave the premises or else I will call the local authorities.” Marie’s voice left no room for debate.

Completely dejected, the guy huffed, scowled at both of us, called me a heartless bitch, and then scared the hell out of me when he whipped the flower bouquet at us.

It all happened so quickly, I didn’t react fast enough. The flowers caught my arm and then ricocheted off the back bar countertop.

My heart rate went into overdrive. This guy was completely mental. While distracted by tangles of baby’s breath and palm fronds, I noticed that Marie had taken a shooter’s stance, her badass black gun pointing right at him.

“Freeze!” she shouted. “Taryn, call nine-one-one, now!” Her command didn’t seem to matter to him; one view of her gun and he was taking wide backward steps toward the door.

Pete walking into the pub from the kitchen, whistling and completely oblivious to the standoff. He stuttered to a halt. “What the?”

While we were distracted by Pete, the crazed guy seized the opportunity to run.

Pete stood gaping in shock at both of us while Marie lowered her weapon. “Jesus!

What the hell did I just walk into?” He rushed over and locked the front door.

Marie fiddled with the gun before placing it back inside a black holster. She snapped the holder thing on it and pushed it back into its hiding spot in the gap above the cooler. I knew she was aware of me watching her, but she was doing a fine job of ignoring me.

I felt almost out of breath. “You have a gun behind my bar?”

She gave me a casual glance and then shrugged. My blood heated up another notch. Like hell it was no big deal! “I had it hidden.”

I leaned onto the bar for stability. “Whose gun is it?”

Her face was stoic but she was breathing just as heavily from the incident as I was.

“Mine.”

“Since when the hell do you own a gun?” Marie grabbed a beer glass and filled it halfway with water. “I got it after I graduated from the course. It’s a Glock nine-millimeter. Want to see it?”

People holding guns kill people. My answer was quick. “No.”

“I should take you to the range and teach you to fire it. It’s so much fun!”

“Marie, why the hell do you have a gun?” She shrugged. “Mike bought it for me. It was my graduation gift. He’s worried that Gary might try to shoot me so he wants me to be prepared to shoot first. I can’t believe that crazy guy coming in here like that. He scared the crap out of me.”

Yeah, that was a load of lies. Gary was no longer contesting the divorce and was too busy fooling around with that Amy woman to even bother. As long as Marie didn’t try to take more of Gary’s money, she wasn’t even a blip on his radar anymore.

“Just so you know, I’ve applied for a per-mit to carry a concealed weapon, so whenever we travel locally, I’ll most likely be armed.

Stop looking at me as if I’ve grown another head.”

Pete was standing in the middle of the pub, glaring at both of us. “You care to tell me what the fuck that was that I just walked into?”

I waved him off. My best friend drawing weapons on people to protect me was more important. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”

“Pete, call the police. It’s protocol. All threats need to be reported.” Marie took a sip of water, averting her eyes from me. “Tar, the way this works is that you are supposed to go about your day without worrying about security. It’s my job now to worry about it, and it’s also my job to be as transparent as possible and not allow you to be worried about your safety. Bodyguards should be visible but invisible. Understand?”

“I thought that you were just going with me to public appearances and stuff? I didn’t realize you were taking this so seriously.” The thought of my best friend actually putting her life on the line to protect me suddenly became very real and very frightening.

It was almost too much to bear.

Her eyes opened wider. “Of course I’m taking this seriously. Very seriously!” Guilt swept over me, pressing hard on my chest. Somewhere in my mind I’d thought that we were just saying she was my bodyguard as an excuse to allow her to travel with Ryan and me—like it was a cover story or something. After seeing her pull a gun on someone, the reality of the situation became clear. I rushed right over and threw my arms around her. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.

Thank you. I love you.”

Marie patted my back. “I love you, too, Tar. We have a lot to learn about stalkers and how to handle them, but I promise to keep you informed from now on, okay?” I nodded, hugging her neck.

Pete cleared his throat and showed us his cell phone. “Cops are on their way.” My eyes sought out the cameras up in the corner. There was also a small, dark dome directly above the cash register. “Someone care to tell me when they got installed?” I asked. “Since no one thought it important to tell me.”

“Oh, shit,” Pete groaned. “I forgot to tell you. They were installed yesterday while you were in New York fetching the paparazzi guy’s ashes. It’s a good thing, though. We got that guy on camera.”

Marie pulled her hair off her shoulders. “I made him look directly at it, so we should have a pretty clear shot of his face. God, I hope I’m not in trouble for drawing my weapon. Mike will have my ass for that.” That might not be such a bad thing?

“You know what I mean,” she groaned at me. “Taryn, I hate to say it, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be down in the bar anymore.”

“What?” Am I being kicked out of my own bar now?

“I agree,” Pete said solemnly.

“You’re too accessible to them,” Marie continued. “That wasn’t the first time that particular weirdo came in here. He’s been trying to deliver flowers to you for several weeks. Besides, this is a public place. There is nothing to prevent anyone from just waltz-ing through the front doors and posing a threat. I’m afraid that the only option we have is to remove you. Like it or not, you’re a celebrity—a public figure. Your status has put you in a precarious position.” My body went rigid. This was my pub and now I was being told not to enter it? “I’m not famous.”