THE BODYGUARD AND THE SHOW DOG is a laugh a minute story in the best Janet Evanovich style. The situations that Natasha finds herself in are hilarious, her attempts to balance her career and her relationship are the makings of an Emmy winning sitcom. Ms. Tillery French's Bodyguard series is one that will have you laughing and cheering Natasha's bid for independence even as you feel complete sympathy for Jonce's quest to keep her safe from herself. A wonderful book for an afternoon read. --Brenda Edde, Romance Junkies The Bodyguard: by Christy T French Opening the cover of a new Christy French book is always an adventure. The dialogue is witty and spicy. The story moves along at a rapid pace, with the action usually unexecpted and at times hilarious. --Barbara Buhrer, Reviewer, Myshelf. Ms. French blends comedy, suspense, personal trauma and hot romance and presents a fine read. And cool characters. Watch out for the Pit and Bigun bodyguard team! Make the effort to find "The Bodyguard". --C. B. Shelly, Reviewer, CataRomance.

Excerpts of CHASING HORSES,
a novel by Christy Tillery French, 2004

CHAPTER 1

"ROY ROGERS IS RIDING TONIGHT"

She was about as nervous as a virgin in a room full of sailors right off the boat. Well, okay, about as excited, too. Her hands were sweaty; her stomach was in knots. Her skin felt greasy. She cleared her throat. "Charlie, I don't know if this is such a good idea," she said, glancing at her companion.

Charlie gave a look meant to shrivel. Ricki straightened up and stared right back.

Charlie finally sighed exasperatedly, then said, "All you got is a case of the jitters, Ricki. Once we get inside, you'll be all right, I reckon."

"Did you bring the masks?" Melanie asked from the back, her voice practically in Ricki's ear, startling her a little.

Charlie grinned widely. "Girl, just wait till you see what I have concocted. You'll be so proud to wear it. Knock you flat on your ass, I promise."

They were sitting at a traffic light, in Charlie's Toyota. Ricki had wanted to bring her Sidekick, seeing as how Charlie was such a danger on the highway, but had to reluctantly agree with her other two vigilante partners that a teal-colored mini-jeep with a white canvas top doesn't blend in too well with the scenery. Melanie's car was a sporty white Mustang convertible and hers blended almost as well as Ricki's. So there they sat, nervous, edgy, waiting for the traffic light to change so they could get to their destination and do their dutiful deed. Ricki looked up at the sky, which was darkening quickly. Good, she thought. We need it to be dark. That way maybe, please, God, no one will

Charlie startled her out of her worries, when she said somewhat reverently, "Lord have mercy, would you just look at that?"

Ricki perked up, thinking that maybe some guy with a nice, tight fanny was walking by, saying, "What? Look at what?"

"Just goes to show ya," Charlie said.

"What the heck are you talking about, Charlie?" Ricki asked, irritably. Shoot, she couldn't understand her carrying on like that over anything other than some gorgeous hunk.

"That Lexus over there, see," she answered, pointing.

They all looked. The yuppie-looking driver was boldly picking his nose.

"That is so gross!" Melanie said from the back.

"Like I said, just goes to show ya," Charlie reiterated.

"Show ya what?" Ricki asked, trying not to watch the guy but not being able to help herself. That was so vulgar.

"We are all alike, each and every one of us. Don't matter how rich you are, how poor you are. We're all God's creatures, all made the same, all do the same thing," Charlie pontificated.

"Not me," Melanie said, offended.

"If he puts his finger in his mouth, I'm gonna puke," Ricki said.

They watched as he wiped it on the back of the seat.

"I would advise you never to buy a used Lexus," Ricki told the others.

When they arrived at the complex, it was completely dark and the parking lot was empty save for one car, which they knew to be the owner's, seeing as how they had only staked this place out four days straight.

"Pull into a parking space," Ricki instructed when Charlie drove right up to the door.

"What for? The place is closed. Ain't no point having to walk all that way."

"Listen, Charlie, if, say, the police drive by for whatever reason and see your car pulled up to the front door, don't you think they're going to find that awful suspicious? Don't you think maybe it would look more convincing if we were to park in a slot, like a customer or a visitor?" Ricki reasoned.

Charlie seemed to ponder this a moment, then shrugged her shoulders and pulled into a handicap zone.

"You know what, Charlie?" Ricki fumed. "I am beginning to think you suffer from passive-aggressive, not to mention oppositional defiant, personality traits, acting the way you do."

"What? What'd I do?" she asked innocently.

Ricki gave an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes dramatically, shaking her head disgustedly.

Charlie studied her a moment, then said, "Damn, Ricki, I wish you'd get yourself laid so you could settle down a bit, quit with all this psychological nitpicking you keep throwing at me!"

"It's not like she hasn't had the opportunity," Melanie said from the back.

Ricki turned around and gave her the evil eye, which she ignored.

"Yeah, well, if maybe I could meet some guy worth letting lay me, I'd, you know, do it," Ricki said defensively. "My brother wasn't good enough for you?" Melanie asked with disbelief.

"Well, now, I didn't exactly say that, Melanie," Ricki appeased. Jeez, how do you tell your best friend her brother's about as appealing to you as Popeye? Okay, maybe Ricki did resemble Olive Oyl, she had to admit that, but only slightly; and this Olive Oyl wasn't looking for no Popeye the sailor man to hoist her mainsails, no thanks. Well, at least not that particular Popeye.

"He is a lawyer, you know, and one of the better catches in Knoxville," Melanie stated somewhat prejudicially.

How could Ricki tell her that was his problem, him being a lawyer? Well, along with arrogance and bias and a need to pontificate on every old thing there is to comment on, which goes with being an attorney. Plus he had this nasal, twangy voice which grated on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard. In addition to which, his legs and arms were hairless, which was about as appealing to her as a dead cockroach. Ricki decided she couldn't tell her all these negative things about her beloved brother, so didn't.

Since Melanie and Ricki had had this same discussion about a thousand times already and it was getting old, Ricki decided to change focus. "I tell you what, being a Virgo is pure, unmitigated hell," she said, looking out the window.

"What's being a Virgo got to do with it?" Melanie sneered at her.

"Well, for one thing, Virgos are only the most loyal people you'll find on this Earth," Ricki answered.

"Says you," Charlie said.

"It's true!" she said. "You just haven't known me long enough to find that out. I mean, look at me with Danny. We've been divorced several months now and I still can't go to bed with another man, much less date anyone seriously, you know, 'cause my loyalty to Danny gets in the way."

"He sure ain't very loyal to you, from what I hear," Charlie observed.

"Yeah, well, let's not get into Danny and the bimbette," Ricki snapped, and in order to waylay the conversation from getting on that topic, said, "Besides which, if my loyalty doesn't get in the way, then my guilt feelings do. That ought to be my middle name, you know, guilt. My whole life is rife with guilt feelings. I live on guilt. I eat, sleep, and dream guilt."

"Here she goes," Melanie said resignedly.

"I tell you what, my next life, if I'm going to come back as a Virgo, I think I'll just commit hara-kiri in utero."

Charlie burst out laughing.

"Tie that dang umbilical cord around my neck, right before I traverse down the birth canal," Ricki declared.

"That's gross!" Melanie said.

"Hey, I'm serious here. You know what I think? I think all Virgos had to have lived a terrible life in their previous ones. You know, maybe we were all murderers or rapists or actors or something. narcissistic as hell, I'm sure. And to teach us a lesson, make us atone for our bad lives, God said, 'Well, you'll just be a Virgo in your next life, that'll teach you. You'll be condemned to feeling loyal to people you owe no loyalty to, guilt for having normal feelings like, say, happiness.' "

"Will you listen to this crap!" Charlie said.

"Oh, gosh, you think what I just said was blasphemous?" Ricki asked worriedly, ignoring her friend's biased observation. "Was I being sacrilegious? Shoot, now I'll be worrying all the dang-long night about that! 'Cause that's another curse put upon Virgos, you know, we worry all the durn time about every durn thing there is to worry about. And if we don't have anything to worry about, we start worrying over that! It's bad enough we're all about as guilt-ridden as the epitomic Jewish mother . . . oh, shoot, did I do it again? Was that a prejudicial comment? Was I being anti-Semitic?"

Charlie snorted derisively. "Does she ever shut up?" she asked Melanie.

"She always does this," Melanie piped up from the back. "She just doesn't want to talk about why she dumped my brother, so she's trying to make us forget what we were originally talking about by saying all these weird things."

"Hey, maybe it's eldritch . . ."

"Where?" Charlie asked, interrupting Ricki's defense, looking alarmingly out the windshield.

"Where what?" Ricki asked, confused.

"Eldritch."

"Yeah?"

"You said that's Eldritch," Charlie snapped at Ricki.

"Yeah, right."

She sighed dramatically. "Where?"

"Where what?"

Charlie hit the steering wheel with her hand. "Eldritch, damnit!" she half-shouted.

"That's what I said."

"I don't know no Eldritch," she said exasperatedly.

"Of course not."

"Who the hell is Eldritch and where is the man?" Charlie fumed.

Ricki stared at her. "You're kidding, right?"

Charlie gave her a blank look.

Ricki turned to Melanie. "She's kidding, right?"

Melanie just looked confused.

"Jeez, Charlie, you ever heard of a dictionary?" Ricki asked her, somewhat irreverently.

Charlie visibly bristled.

"Hey, we better get inside before the owner decides it's quitting time or someone gets suspicious about us being out here," Ricki said, taking another detour.

"Yeah, right," Melanie agreed, sounding relieved.

They had decided they would don their masks in the car, prior to going into the building. Charlie had wanted to put them on before they left, but Melanie and Ricki managed to convince her that wouldn't be such a good idea, especially if they got pulled over for speeding or a broken taillight or something. After all, they would look suspicious enough, dressed in black sweatshirts, black jeans, and black tennies, and just so no fingerprints would be left, in case anybody got the bright idea to call in the cops, black cotton gloves.

Charlie reached under her seat and pulled out a brown grocery bag, which she opened and began handing out their very crucial disguises.

Ricki held hers up toward a street light to get a good look, then laughed out loud. Charlie's concoction consisted of a black pointy hood with two round openings, which Ricki presumed were for eyes, and a slit for the mouth. It kind of reminded her of a dark version of the hood worn by the Ku Klux Klan, that bunch of cowards! "How apropos," she said, looking at Charlie, who grinned, signaling she got this one.

After they were properly disguised, they looked at each other and mutely began exiting the car.

"Roy Rogers is riding tonight," Ricki sang, opening her door, ignoring Charlie's, "Say what?"

They stealthily approached the outer door of the building, were surprised to find it open, so went on in, being sure to lock it behind them.

He was at the back, in his office. They strolled on in, merry as you please. The look on his face when he saw them, it was something else. His mouth dropped open, his eyes bugged out, his hands went to his throat, almost like a woman's reaction. What a sissy! Ricki thought with disgust.

"Who . . . who are you?" he asked, standing now, trying to look irate. His voice was high-pitched, nasal.

"Who are we? The man asks who we is," Charlie said, sounding just like Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost.

Melanie and Ricki looked at each other. Ricki could tell by her eyes, Melanie was smiling.

"What do you want?" he demanded, louder than he should have. "If it's money, I don't have any. It's all been deposited."

Charlie laughed, simultaneously moving toward him, reaching out, stopping his arm as he began to open his top desk drawer. "I don't think I'd do that if I was you," she said, her voice threatening.

He had to bend his neck back to look at her as she stood towering menacingly over him. Just like a little kid before a big, bad parent, Ricki thought, grinning to herself.

"Ouueech!" he yelled as Charlie reached out, grabbed and then twisted his arm behind his back. She put herself in back of him and shoved him forward, raising him up on tiptoes, causing him to do this kind of shuffling dance as she brought him toward her two partners in crime. Ricki couldn't help but laugh. Maybe it was from nerves, but anyway she laughed, thinking that ought to impress Charlie, show her she wasn't any scaredy-cat.

"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked, his voice shrill.

"Honey, we is the lech patrol and we have come to shut you down," Charlie responded authoritatively.

Melanie and Ricki snickered.

"Leech? What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, trying to make his voice sound forceful.

Charlie didn't answer, looking at the other two, saying, "You know what you gotta do."

Ricki went to his right arm, Melanie to his left. They each tied a lead rope Ricki used with her horses around his wrist, then backed up, forcing his arms straight out from his sides, holding him tight, not giving him leeway.

Ricki took the time to study this little weasel that liked to sexually harass his employees. Jeez, why are they all such nerdy-looking twerps, she wondered with irritation, taking note of his balding pate, too-pale complexion, narrow shoulders, wide hips. Then she thought how repulsive it must be trying to fend off the advances of a jerk like that.

Charlie interrupted her perusal as she approached him again, saying,

"Mister, we been advised you have been sexually harassing some of our sisters."

"Sexually . . ." he started, but Charlie stuck a rag in his mouth, stopping him.

He looked like he was going to gag there for awhile, and Ricki was wondering if they should take the rag out so he didn't vomit. She couldn't stand for someone to throw up. She had an involuntary gag reflex when that happened. He seemed to choke for a minute or two, then calmed back down.

Charlie stood, watching him passively.

After he had quieted, she said, "Now, I been wondering to myself, what can I do to help this little man here, stop him from sexually harassing these poor innocent women who work for him, wanting only to make enough money to put food on their table, have a roof over their heads? Well, I reckon the answer is easy enough." She reached into her back pocket and brought out a shiny switchblade. Melanie and Ricki gasped simultaneously. This hadn't been planned.

The man started making high, squealing noises in his throat, struggling against them, but they held him tight. Ricki looked at Melanie and she shook her head like, I don't know what to do. Ricki shrugged her shoulders, mutely agreeing.

Charlie reached out, undid his belt, then unfastened and unzipped his pants, and they all watched as they dropped to his ankles. He was wearing boxer shorts. Shoot, Ricki thought, there ain't nothing uglier than a man with skinny, knobby, hairless, ultra-white legs, wearing baggy boxer shorts. Now she was the one fighting the impulse to gag, seeing that sight!

Charlie then real quick pulled his shorts down. They all stared. Ricki couldn't help it. This was the first nude man she had actually seen up close since her divorce. Well, okay, in real life. And what she saw was one hell of a disappointment. Charlie gave a derisive laugh. She must have been thinking the same thing.

"Well, would you just lookit here," she said, reaching out with the knife, touching his penis, which was all shriveled-from fright Ricki was sure-looking like a tiny worm. It seemed to shrink even more when she touched it with the knife. Charlie looked him in the eyes. "This here is what you been promising those poor girls? This little bitty thing is what you been wanting to put inside them? Sheeeeittt!" she critiqued.

Ricki couldn't help it, but a snicker broke through.

"Why there ain't nothing there," Charlie said, leaning down to get a closer look. "A person would need a pair of tweezers and a magnifying glass just to find the damn thing!"

Ricki lost it at that, trying to cover her laughter by pretending to have a coughing fit. When she had quieted down, Melanie was giving her the evil eye, so she looked at Charlie, who seemed proud of herself.

Then she pressed the button on the knife, exposing the blade. Ricki's eyes widened, but not near as wide as the man's. He started making those squealing noises again.

Charlie came right up to him, held the knife against his groin, began making these circular movements, not cutting skin, but close. "Now, this is your first and only warning, little man," she said, emphasizing the little. "You leave them girls alone. You keep your hands to yourself and your fly zipped. And don't go getting any ideas it was one of 'em that told on you. We have our sources, and it doesn't come from your employees. So I don't want to hear about no repercussions to any of our sisters. You understand?" She jabbed him lightly with the knife, drawing a pinpoint of blood.

He squealed.

"I don't think I got that," she said, leaning into his face.

He shook his head frantically up and down, making himself understood.

"Well, good. Now, if we hear from our sources you been misbehaving, next time, after we get through with you, if'n you get a notion to pee, I guess you'll just have to sit down to accomplish that feat. You understanding me?"

As if in answer a small trickle of urine slid down his leg, making slight plop, plop noises, landing on his shorts.

Charlie watched for a second, then looked into his eyes. "I see you do. That's fine."

Ricki laughed again. Melanie shot her a look, which she ignored.

Charlie stopped, pondered a moment, then looked at Ricki and said, "Why don't y'all just bend him over that desk over yonder?" a gleam in her eyes.

He started that damn squealing again.

"What for?" Melanie asked, sounding nervous.

"I figured I'd just leave him with a reminder, so next time he goes to harass one of our sisters, he'll think twice about it."

"Reminder?" Ricki asked, making her voice low.

"Yeah. Like, you know, carve the letter L on his left cheek and the letter F on his right."

More squeals.

Ricki grinned. "L, F?" she asked.

"As in lecherous fart," Charlie replied.

Ricki lost it again, Melanie finally joining in.

Meanwhile, he was going crazy, twisting around, squealing, doing a little dance, peeing some more.

After everybody had calmed down somewhat, Charlie said, "I reckon you're lucky tonight, little man. We've got others to see to and we're running late, so I'm gonna let you off easy. Just remember, if we have to come back, pay you another visit, your wife's gonna wake up to find your tiny little dick on the pillow right next to her. You got that?"

He nodded his head frantically.

"Good! Tie him to the chair," she told Melanie and Ricki.

He docilely let them lead him to the chair, shuffling along because his pants and shorts were impeding any wide steps. Well, heck, Ricki wasn't about to pull his pants up. After he sat down in the proffered chair without prompting, they simply pulled his hands behind his back, tied them together, and brought the ropes around to the front.

Charlie watched impassively, then they all headed for the door. Just before going out, she turned, pointed the knife at him, said, "You just remember what I told you!" in a thunderous voice, and they were gone, disappearing into the night. Just like that.

Ricki was hysterical by the time they got to the car, feeling pumped, high, laughing and babbling about what Charlie had done. Charlie drove with a proud look on her face. Melanie sat in the back, looking pensive.

Charlie dropped them off at their cars, saying she had to get home before her husband got there, else he might question where she had been.

Before getting out, Melanie voiced the opinion that maybe they went just a little bit overboard with this vigilante thing, maybe stepped over the line. What did they think?

Charlie and Ricki looked at her with disbelief.

Melanie gave them a belligerent look in return.

Ricki sighed. "Look, Mel," she said, appeasingly. "I know when you and I formed the support group for women, it never crossed our mind we would end up engaging in, well, vigilantism."

"And we never even considered it 'till Charlie came along," Melanie said derisively.

"Well, right, but don't forget, you, Charlie, and I decided that for the times WAR couldn't passively handle a situation, the three of us would, you know, step in and handle it our own way, in a passive manner, as well. You were there, Melanie, you went along with it."

"Yeah, well, you two seem to forget WAR is an acronym for Women Aware and Responsive, not a noun for what you want to engage in," Melanie accused.

"Who said anything about engaging in war?" Charlie snapped.

"Okay, okay," Ricki interrupted, knowing an argument was coming.

"What we did tonight, Melanie, has nothing to do with engaging in any war, you know that."

"Oh, and a knife isn't a weapon used in a war, I suppose," she said smugly.

"She didn't actually use the knife on him," Ricki said. "It was just a prop, if you will, to, well, scare him a little, let him know we meant business, right, Charlie?"

"Yeah, right, a prop," Charlie repeated a little too quickly.

"Well, I'm sorry," Melanie said. "It's just, what if we had gotten caught in there with that guy, holding him while you threatened him with that knife, Charlie? Damn, why'd you have to bring that thing anyway?"

"Just seemed like the thing to do," Charlie said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Come on, Melanie, it was fun," Ricki said. "God, I feel great. Wonderful. Alive. Isn't it fantastic not feeling powerless of a situation, instead being in control, doing something to resolve a problem for someone else?"

"I'd like to hear you tell the judge that," Melanie snipped.

"That won't happen, Mel. Come on, girl, you're either with us or you're not," Charlie chided.

Melanie seemed to ponder that awhile, then said, "Okay, I guess I'm in," sounding defeated.

"The Three Vigilantes," Ricki sang.

"More like Larry, Darryl, and Darryl," Melanie cracked.

They checked all the papers the next day but only saw a report about an attempted robbery at that building. Ricki had to admit she was a bit disappointed. Charlie's sister was dispatcher with the police department and Ricki didn't know what ruse Charlie used on her, but she found out that one of the units had been called on a 911 to the place, finding the man all trussed up in a chair (he had dialed with the heel of his shoe), his pants and underwear down. He told the responding patrol that three "black women dressed like the Ku Klux Klan" had tried to rob him, but not finding anything, had simply tied him up and left him there. Said one of them sounded just like that black woman who played on Ghost, Ida Mae Brown. When questioned as to why his pants had been pulled down, he gave some vague sort of explanation that they were at one point going to rape him, but he had managed to talk them out of that.

"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Ricki said, fighting the urge to gag, remembering the dinkless wonder.

Christy Tillery French P.O. Box 297 Heiskell TN 37754 E-mail: readermail@ChristyFrench.Com