Accidental Protector: A Marriage Mistake Romance

by Nicole Snow

  There's a shift in him again. I can feel it more than I see it.

  He looks the same, technically, except his deep blue eyes have lost some of their shine and there's a sternness in his sealed lips that wasn’t there before.

  “Tell me,” I insist.

  A few more seconds pass before he finally says, “I was worried about you. That's it.”

  Ridiculous.

  It's almost sincere by the tone...and yet, I know there's more. “At one in the morning? Why? What kind of person –” The infernal ringing of the phone changes my need to know. “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I’m done. Just done.”

  I grab the handle of my suitcase, but he catches the other end and won’t let me lift it off the bed. His half-ass lopsided grin is there, only a ghost this time.

  “What?” I mutter. “Noah, for Christ's sake, you can't just –”

  “Stop you? Yeah, darlin', I know. But fuck, before you go off and leave me in the dust, you at least might want to get dressed.”

  Crap!

  Somewhere along my rant, I’d lost the ugly afghan. I'm practically still wearing nothing but a flimsy top and panties. My body has a mind that's clearly separate from the one in my head, because the moment I realize I’m standing before him wearing nothing but bits of silk – transparent, mint-green silk – my nipples go rebel hard.

  He notices. Of course he does.

  Can nothing go right? Ever?

  “I don’t mind,” he says. “But some of the people in my building...”

  I wrench open the zipper of my suitcase and toss the top open. “You suck at listening. I said I’m going to a hotel. No more games.”

  His amusement fades. “They might question checking you in dressed like that, too.”

  Pulling out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, I shut the lid and zip it shut.

  “Really?” I step into the shorts and pull them up. “This is Reno. Vegas' annoying little brother. No one questions anything.” I pull the shirt over my head. “Not even two drugged strangers getting hitched by a guy who plays Elvis for a living.”

  My mind goes another direction. “I’m going away, and then I'm finding out who got us into this crap in the first place. I’m so sick of this. Not being in control of anything.” I jerk the suitcase off the bed and then drop it on the floor so I can make the bed before I leave. “I have some things to straighten up for Martha before I go. Don't forget to lock the door whenever you leave.”

  8

  Lurid Truth (Noah)

  I stand back and watch as Lucky the whirlwind makes the bed, returns the ugly afghan to the living room, does a quick sweep of the kitchen and then the bathroom, all the while leaving things sparkling and neat. She cleans like a hotel maid on espresso and gives me a silent treatment worthy of a scorned princess.

  Technically, up till the last ten minutes, things were going better than I’d imagined.

  When I blitzed back to Reno and walked in here, I had no idea how I'd tell her Fuckface Lucient knows who she is, and he won't think twice about hurting her.

  I still don't know how I drive the rest into her skull – that the only place she’ll be safe for sure is with me. Twenty-four seven.

  Hotel? Fuck no. I can't let her go.

  The conversation she had with Charlie was perfect timing. Even if the bastard did say he'd call his momma. That’s what he’d said, like the scared little worm he was. The nervous, angry quiver in his voice left a satisfying heat in my veins. So did the part where he swore this isn't over.

  I may have added the tidbit about him calling Mindy's ma because I’m sure she’ll get a call too if Charlie doesn’t heed my warning.

  I’ll follow up with that as soon as I have more privacy. Whether that little prick calls his mother or not, I’ve got a gut feeling, sooner or later, Lucky’s ma will know I was at her apartment at two in the morning. She'll drive up here to see who I am, and what the hell her daughter's doing. It's inevitable.

  I have to get her out of here before that happens. Before her ma storms in, and winds up in a bigger mess than she could ever imagine. Before Lucky's family ends up on Lucient’s hit list.

  That can’t happen.

  Won’t, over my dead fucking body. And I hope I don't have to test it literally.

  Shit. This whole thing has gotten way out of hand.

  I’ll figure it out, I know I will. Just need time to catch my breath, start planning my next steps, and figure out exactly what Lucient thinks I have that he wants.

  There has to be something. Something big.

  It doesn't make sense why he let me go. If he thought I was just a mad dog, a threat, I'd be buried in the desert right now next to Harkness.

  It gnaws at me. Hasn't let go since I took those mountain bends at twice the recommended speed, racing back here to get to her.

  I wondered if I'd be too late. If Lucient had already sent men to break in, take her, hold her as collateral over my head.

  Then she'd opened the door. Wearing little more than an ugly afghan.

  Every fucked up thought in my brain melted and I knew I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman. Her hair hung loose, tumbling over her shoulders, and her eyes adorably lit with disbelief, knowing she should still be asleep. Not staring at yours truly on her doorstep.

  I had to summon every ounce of willpower I possessed in order to carry her to the kitchen instead of the bedroom. The blood on her foot was the only thing that kept me sane.

  Her blood ultimately reminded me why I'm really here. A clear reminder of what happened in the desert. Of what could still happen if I’m not careful.

  Blood. Guts. Gore. Death. That’s why Cesare Lucient exists on this Earth.

  That’s what I'll die to protect her from.

  I have to step back as the whirlwind zooms past me again a few minutes later. She's just stepped out of the bathroom in zebra-striped shorts and a matching top. Less revealing than her sleepwear, but no less sexy. Lucky me.

  I also have to bite back dirty, dangerous thoughts. Those long, trim legs, perfectly tanned and sleek, would be heaven wrapped around my waist and –

  Fuck. Enough.

  I swallow hard, pretending I can kick my lust just long enough to play the hero she deserves.

  After giving the entire apartment one last sweep, she stops in the living room, where I’m standing next to her gigantic suitcase. I didn’t even know they made them this big. Or so colorful. I think it’s flowers, but it might just be psychedelic rainbow blots, like looking through a kaleidoscope, where the colors just roll into one another.

  Thank fuck for those patterns. If it were more somber, black or brown, it'd look too much like a coffin.

  “Seriously?” She stops in front of me, her eyebrows shooting up. “You're still here?”

  Pulling my mind back in order, I ask, “Yeah. I'm your ride, wherever you're going. You ready?”

  “Ready to drive myself, in my own car, you mean? Yeah, just about.”

  “Lucky –”

  “Don't. Noah, please, just let me go. Don't make this harder than it needs to be. It's way past my bedtime.”

  “Darlin', you're at least letting me lug your bag out and walk you to the lot. No buts.”

  She cocks her head, opening her mouth to protest, but I lay a finger gently over her lips. “Let me do this, Lucky. My way of saying sorry for earlier.”

  “Whatever.” She sighs as she unclips a key and fob off her key ring. “How do you keep getting in the building without calling for me to unlock the door?” She holds the fob up for me to see before laying it on the table. “This is a secure building.”

  “People think this is a secure building,” I say. “It’s not. Just like every other complex around here, the back door's always unlocked.”

  “Only the door. The gate gets locked.”

  I nod. “And the fence is easy to scale for anyone in halfway decent shape.”

  Her frown deepens. “You...you scaled the fence?”

  I st
are through her, telling her all she needs to know.

  Is this making it better, or worse?

  She shakes her head, as if unsure what to believe.

  “It’s part of the job,” I say, trying to make light of things. “I needed to come up here and –”

  “And what? Offer your services? Free plane tickets to wherever?” A harsh laugh spills out of her. “Jesus, Noah. I don't need a bounty hunter travel agent or a bodyguard.”

  Wrong, darlin'. So fucking wrong. It takes everything in me to bite my tongue and leave it in my head, unspoken, knowing it's the God's truth.

  Seriousness overtakes her eyes. “Why did you become a bounty hunter? Seems like it's brought you nothing but trouble.”

  Thunder rips through my heart. Because she's more right than she's got any business being, and I wish like hell the trouble had only fallen on me.

  “Beats selling used cars. In case you hadn't noticed the time, it's after two-thirty. You're gonna be up when the rooster crows if we don't get moving.” I pick up her suitcase and gesture for her to open the door.

  She shakes her head, glumly following me. I’m still trying to make light of things. The less she knows, the better.

  “Is that what you used to do? Pushing lemons and crappy jeep deals on unsuspecting buyers?”

  “Nah. Never been in sales in my life.” Clearly. If I had a slick tongue, I'd be able to sweet talk her straight back to my place, rather than drawing a blank when I wonder how I'll keep her from a hotel.

  Her cheeks go pink as she pulls open the door, clearly embarrassed she didn’t get the joke.

  “Well, maybe you should consider a new career. Used car salesmen do very well for themselves without facing hotheads with guns.”

  I say nothing as we step into the elevator and I push the button.

  “But you're not cut out for sales...or any normal job, are you?” Her voice is soft, tentative, brave, and probing into places she knows she shouldn't.

  I consider repeating I've never sold cars but change my mind. “Something like that.”

  That's all I give. Not interested in this conversation going any deeper. I'm not ready to admit I fell into bounty hunting originally because of Jess.

  “You said you've got a music degree?”

  “Yes, and a teaching degree.”

  “But you don’t want to teach?”

  She shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’d have to quit my current job in order to find out. Besides, vocal lessons aren't exactly in high demand in this town.”

  “What about Scottsdale? Seems like a prime demographic. Lots of loaded parents wanting to get their kids nice and cultured.” I smile.

  The elevator dings and as the door opens, she looks up at me with such sorrow-filled eyes, my chest constricts.

  “That's never going to work.” She steps out of the elevator. “In Scottsdale, I worked for Charlie’s mother.”

  Oh. Fuck.

  Her bag catches on the door as I step out. It’s a frustrating moment before I get the colossal, wheeled monster free and can follow her. “You don't anymore?”

  She nods while pushing open the first set of doors in the lobby area. “My last day was two weeks ago. She owns an embroidery company that makes uniforms and other clothing for the high school sports teams. Not music, but I'd give the kids lessons on the side. She’s owned it for years and closes down for the summer months. Everybody who's anybody around Phoenix knows Carol Pratt. And anybody on her bad side is basically excommunicated.”

  Harsh choice of words. I get the bag through the door and wheel it across the rubber mat to the second set of doors. “So, you’ll go home come Fall. Plenty of time for things to blow over.”

  “Oh, you're funny. They both thought I shouldn’t keep working after Charlie and I got married. He works hard, you see, and his poor little wife’s only focus should be taking care of him.”

  There's a fiery edge in her voice. Who can blame her?

  My fists are also tingling again, eager to meet Charlie boy in person, and pound some fucking sense into him. Or at least punish him for his incredibly stupid sins against this angel.

  Mostly, I just want to rip him out of her head. Even for one night. My eyes drop to her ass and linger there for a second, shifting under her shorts, urging my dick to do terrible things. I could make her forget that prick ever existed with the sweet, sweet lovin' I'd give her.

  No, dammit.

  Focusing on the seduction, the chase, the sex won't keep her alive. I need to get her home. No hotel.

  As I walk through the door she’s holding open, I can’t help but feel sympathy.

  Where did this woman come from? It's like she’s from some dark age that the rest of the world left behind long ago. Almost an unwilling match for the lost-in-time apartment we’d just left.

  “I know it sounds naive. Stupid, even. And it is. I’ve known that forever, but getting out, getting away, seemed too impossible at the time. I was trapped. In over my head. Afraid to break it off and leave him, until I had proof he was a cheater.”

  I think she had an inkling about Charlie boy's antics long before then, but I don't say it because something else dawns on me.

  She’s too nice. Ripe for trampling by a cruel, bug-up-its-ass world. That’s her problem.

  That was Jess' flaw, too.

  Two bright, gorgeous, innocent young women so focused on making sure others are happy, they couldn't see what was happening to themselves.

  Lucky starts walking into the parking ramp, her shoes clicking on the concrete. She veers off.

  “Wrong direction!” I say. “Truck's this way.” I point across the street. “Right over there.”

  “Yeah, my car is this way,” she yells back.

  “We’ll get it later.”

  She freezes, folding her arms, giving me that haughty look that says, oh-no-you-don't. Except, there's something else on her face. Indecision. A quiet agony. An opening.

  This is so fucked up. Having to pull her along, instead of letting her decide for herself, marking myself as more dead weight in her life, but what choice do I have? Lucient will hurt her.

  I peer around the parking lot, the dark streets, wondering if Lucifer has his demons posted this instant. Watching us somewhere from the shadows.

  “Lucky...” I start moving toward her, finding my words. Fully expecting her to spout off about staying at a hotel again, I say, “Tomorrow. We’ll get your wheels tomorrow, after we’ve both gotten some sleep. It’s almost three o’clock in the morning. Let me take you home. Warm bed. Food. Shower more modern than Martha's time capsule. It'll save you the trouble of having to find a place and check in tonight.”

  She’s frozen, still questioning herself.

  I don’t blame her. “This time tomorrow, you'll decide. And if you want to walk away, find a place, that's fine by me. Hell, I'll even pay for a couple nights. Darlin', look at me. Right here.” I raise my free hand, cupping her soft cheek, lifting her eyes to mine. “You need sleep. You're dying after all this commotion. This isn’t the time respectable people check into hotels.”

  “Are you calling me unrespectable?”

  “No. I’m saying I’m tired and want to go home, and you need to crash.”

  She huffs out a breath of air that causes her bangs to fluff across her forehead. “But –”

  “Bed, Lucky. You heard me. Everything'll seem clearer in the morning.”

  “Noah...”

  “I’ve learned a few things over the years,” I say, starting to walk, really hoping to flip the conversation around. “After being in the military and screwing around for years chasing assholes, men like Charlie boy are ticking time bombs. They can snap anytime.”

  That’s no lie. The arrogant, soft, entitled ones are worse than the hardcore roughnecks. Crude, explosive assholes are honest when they roar. Men like Charlie boy will do anything to get their way. They're not above lies, intimidation, sometimes violence.

  “I’ve done a lot of jobs over
the years. Cheating spouses, deadbeat dads, missing relatives, you name it. Some of the people I dig up are just broken, need to clear their heads and drop off the grid for awhile. The rest? They know they’ll do all they can to justify their shitty actions. It's never their fault, always somebody else's. Those reckless, petty people are never pretty.”

  Her gaze goes from me to my truck and back again. Then her eyes soften, slowly trailing me from head to toe.

  “It’s your choice,” I say, stopping for a second as we cross the street. “But this could be your chance – the one you've been waiting for – to let old Charlie know, and his family and yours, that you are in control of your own life, Lucky. You don’t have to do what they want anymore.”

  Without a word, or another glance my way, she steps off the curb. A few paces later, we've reached my truck. I follow and hit the unlock button, grateful my reasoning worked for once.

  She walks around to the passenger side while I hoist her massive bag into the bed and secure it. Then I walk to the driver’s door.

  She’s opened the passenger door and the interior light lets me see through the window why she hasn’t climbed in yet.

  The fucking bag of money. Still on the seat.

  Shit!

  How had I forgotten?

  I wrench open the door, and even though I know it’s too late, grab the handles. The bag is still unzipped. The money in clear view. Lots of money. Bound with paper straps.

  I pull the bag across the console, zip it shut, and then toss it in the bed with her suitcase.

  She’s still frozen next to the door. Looking scared. Ready to run.

  I meet her gaze but can’t think of anything to say. The words won't come.

  “I-I think I’ve changed my mind. If I can just have my bag –”

  I shake my head, heart strumming anxious blood through my veins. “Get in, Mindy.”

  Her bottom lip quivers.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise, I swear. I'm trying to help.”

  If only she could see. But she just takes a shaky step backward.

  “Mindy...” I have no choice. I have to talk fast. She could bolt. “The man who drugged us, Cesare Lucient, he knows where you live. You aren’t safe here. You aren’t safe anywhere except with me.”