His to Protect (The Guard Book 3)

by Em Petrova

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved

  His to Protect

  The Guard

  Book 3

  Copyright Em Petrova 2020

  Ebook Edition

  Electronic book publication 2020

  Cover Art by Bookin’ It Designs

  Photo by Sara Eirew Photographer

  All rights reserved. Any violation of this will be prosecuted by the law.

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  More in this series:

  HIS TO SHELTER

  HIS TO DEFEND

  HIS TO PROTECT

  Some things just can’t be ignored…and an attraction this powerful is one of them.

  Bodyguard and special intelligence mastermind Bodhi North has been called a lot of things—pretty-boy, surfer dude and even hippie, but he considers himself more of a tech nerd than anything else. Sure, he can protect and save like the best in The Guard, but the missions affect him far too much for his peace of mind and he prefers to hide behind his screen. But when his boss gives him an ultimatum, North doesn’t take the easy way out.

  After actor Sloane Sailor lands a controversial movie role, she never thought it would throw her into the running for an Oscar—or into danger. It seems the spotlight of her movie also earned her a target on her back, and now she’s dodging a lot of hate. And who knew her new bodyguard would be so big, strong, hot AND smart too? It’s a little hard to keep her mind on the fact she’s in trouble, when North keeps distracting her with that little crease he gets between his eyes when he concentrates.

  North can’t expect a mission to be simple, but learning that the alluring and intelligent Sloane has a foot in two piles of trouble couldn’t shock him more. Now it seems he’s saving her from a stalker as well as aiding in a search involving her lost sister. While Sloane battles a steamy attraction unlike anything she’s ever felt before, she can’t figure out which danger to fear more. But in the arms of her protector, she can hardly think of a better place to hide.

  His to Protect

  by

  Em Petrova

  Chapter One

  “Come on, North. Are we dancing or street fighting?” Madeline didn’t even break a sweat as they went into their third round of training for the day.

  North growled and dodged her punch. The woman was wiry, mouthy and a pain in his ass, but she was the best fighter they had in The Guard, and he needed a hardcore training session after being laid up for months with a leg full of plates and pins.

  She bounced away, light on her toes.

  But I can be lighter. He threw all his focus into kicking her ass and collecting on their bet.

  He leered at the petite blonde who was a master of Jiu Jitsu and street fighting. “You’re not besting me today, Sister.”

  At the nickname, she tossed him a grin and snapped a front kick he didn’t see coming. The blow caught him in the midsection, and he grunted. Laughter drifted from the sidelines from the other members of the elite protection agency as they looked on.

  North’s leg ached, and he knew he’d be icing the bastard tonight just to get enough relief to sleep. But he needed tough love to get in shape for his next mission. He’d been lazy the last four months, sitting behind the computer monitor staring at the maps he specialized in.

  He not only found it intriguing to direct his fellow bodyguards and always keep them one step ahead of the bad guys by way of mapping, but he prided himself on being damn good at it too. Even so, it was time to get off his ass and protect people again.

  “Points are in her favor, North,” Archer drawled.

  “Not for long.” He surged forward, striking.

  “Don’t go easy on me now. I can take whatever you throw at me.” Madeline brushed off the blow as though a measly fly buzzed at her instead of the hard kick to her upper thigh that would have doubled over a large man.

  With a startling roar, Madeline threw herself at him, arms and legs working in precision moves. He shifted into a crouch and grabbed her entire body, lifted her and slammed her into the mat. Breath whooshed from her, but she didn’t stay stunned for long—she hooked an arm around his neck and flipped on top of him.

  In the woman’s stranglehold, North wondered how the hell he got himself into these things. Madeline flipped again and then clamped her thighs around his ears like a vise. Hoots and hollers echoed through the room from his friends, and North finally edged an arm in between Madeline’s thighs and pried them apart.

  With a whipping motion, he heaved her off him. She somersaulted and came up stronger, but he used his anger, strength and weight to pin her flat on her back. Silence sounded in the room. She stared up at him.

  “You know I could render you unconscious right now.” He panted with exertion and the rush of victory.

  She jerked upward and butted him in the head. He felt his eyebrow split open yet again.

  “Son of a bitch!” His scar ran through that brow so deep that hair didn’t even grow there anymore, and it took ages to heal nowadays.

  Blood dripped down his face, and Madeline casually slipped out from under his weight and stepped away, arms folded.

  Laughs and jeers came from the guys standing by watching. North rolled to his feet and swiped the blood away with his sleeve. Madeline threw him a smile, and a laugh burst from him.

  “You live for this shit, don’t you?” he asked her.

  “Little bit.”

  Their boss and leader, Oz, approached with arms out. “You guys are well-matched.”

  “But I drew blood,” Madeline reminded them.

  “North’s just getting back in shape,” Oz responded.

  Irritation rose in North. For months now, Oz had been giving him a pass for missions, making excuses on his behalf.

  “I just proved I’m ready for any fight thrown at me.” He reached up for the elastic band holding his long curly hair into a man bun and pulled it free. He swiped all the hair back and created a new topknot.

  “So who won the bet?” Roman, their fellow brother in the agency they also called the Church, looked between him and Madeline.

  “I did,” they said in unison.

  “What was on the line again? Hundred bucks?”

  The amount was a typical bet between them, but today the stakes were somewhat higher.

  He met Madeline’s gray stare. “That antique knife we recovered from one of our targets,” North said.

  “Ohhh. Damn. Guess you’re at a standoff and the knife remains property of all,” Roman said.

  North extended a hand to Madeline. “’Til next time, Sister.”

  She gripped his hand hard and pumped it once. “I’ll be training. Will you?”

  “Hell yeah,” he growled.

  After they broke away, North turned for the exit. The rear room of the church had been set up as a training space, with mats and gym equipment. He walked into the restroom and pulled off his sweaty clothes. Following a generous spray of deodorant, he put his usual uniform of jeans and a logo T-shirt on. This shirt said NERD in big letters across his chest—one of his favorites because it started a lot of conversations with pretty girls.

  While he laced up his boots, he thought over his sparring session, analyzing where he’d gone wrong an
d what he could have done differently both weighed heavy on his mind.

  Minutes later, he left the restroom and wove through the old cathedral that served as their headquarters. The scents of wood polish and the communal wine that hadn’t been drunk here in years hung in the air. While laid up in his apartment for weeks with his injuries, he didn’t realize how much he missed these smells. Now he dragged a deep breath through his nostrils, relishing the sense of belonging he’d missed even more.

  He moved into the main church with its soaring ceilings and curved beams crisscrossing the arch. The pews were filled with quite a few members of what they called the Church, all busy with research or quietly discussing missions. North walked to the far wall where the bar sat and poured himself a shot of tequila.

  “I don’t know how you still drink that after the age of twenty-five,” Oz said from behind him.

  North set down the bottle and lifted the whiskey. “Is this more to your liking, boss?”

  Oz grabbed a shot glass and flipped it over for North to do the honors. He poured a tot and passed it to Oz.

  They sipped a moment in silence, and North allowed the alcohol to work against his frayed nerves. He didn’t want to admit to how on edge he felt during that fight. Losing wasn’t an option, because deep down, he’d fostered the fear that he really wasn’t physically up to par.

  At least I proved myself.

  He and Oz set their glasses down simultaneously. “Well, back to work,” North said.

  Oz nodded and followed him into the chamber off the altar where computer equipment lined one wall. Madeline already sat at hers, typing away, deep in concentration.

  North worked closely with her day in and out, and he probably tolerated the Ice Queen better than anyone, but today he didn’t feel like sitting next to her. When he slipped into his chair, she didn’t glance away from her screen.

  Settling in, he checked the list of active missions. Their last call came in two days earlier, with a missing woman and a husband desperate to find her. After some deep investigation, Madeline found the lead. The husband was involved with a gambling ring, and they took the woman out of her bed while he worked the night shift. They wanted payment, and ransom money on top of it, but Oz had dispatched one of their guards to locate and protect her while several others made sure the kidnappers couldn’t come for her ever again.

  North hadn’t been selected to go.

  He scoured the list. As he stared at the names, an addition popped onto his screen.

  “Incoming,” he announced.

  Oz pivoted in his own chair to look at North’s screen. “Who’s closest in position to that woman?”

  North pulled up a map that contained small blinking arrows everywhere in the world that a member of The Guard stood, including the three in this room. The microchips inserted in each of their wrists tracked them and afforded that doors opened whenever they required.

  North returned his focus to the name on the screen. Sloane Sailor.

  His brow crinkled, and the split stung. He’d only dabbed it with toilet paper in the restroom and slapped a bandage over it.

  “Sloane Sailor. Is that the actress?” Madeline asked.

  He nodded. “Pretty sure.” He’d just spent a whole day in recovery watching Sloane Sailor’s movie marathon on cable with his foot propped on two pillows and a beer in his hand. The action movie heroine had a virile sexiness that drew audiences to her, and in his opinion, her acting skills surpassed many silly women in the industry.

  “What happened to her?” Oz asked from beside him.

  Madeline released a low whistle. “Her latest movie has people stirred up. Activist groups and union workers. It’s a movie about an oil rig with dangerous practices that break environmental codes. Looks like it’s hit too close to the truth, and some workers in the Gulf of Mexico walked off the job.”

  Oz leaned over Madeline’s shoulder to stare at her screen, where interviews about the movie and the trailer rolled along with headlines about yesterday’s huge uproar in the Gulf.

  North searched the screen, his mind running over the issues he’d deal with on his end, behind his screen, following maps.

  Or I could take the mission.

  He’d been hiding too long.

  “I’ll take her on,” he heard himself say.

  Madeline and Oz turned to him in the same motion. Their stares cut through him.

  “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you, North.” Lines bracketed Oz’s mouth.

  He narrowed his eyes. “About what?”

  Oz leaned on Madeline’s desk and faced him. “You sustained some major injuries with that leg. It won’t be totally right again. And you’re too valuable here in this chair. When we almost lost you, we realized how necessary your skills are. Nobody knows tech like you do, especially when it comes to locating people and moving them on the chessboard.”

  North darted a look at Madeline. She stared back.

  Jesus Christ, she already knew what Oz was going to say.

  Anger welled in his chest. “What the fuck are you saying, Oz?”

  “That if you step down from missions, you have a permanent place right here. Then you’re out of the main action and we won’t be in danger of losing a man.”

  Irritation steamrollered over him. He pushed away from the desk and stood, huffing against the need to bellow. They already decided to shelf him? Put him on desk duty alone, and not even give him another shot to prove that he could still guard a human being like the best of them?

  “Hell no,” he grated out.

  Oz straightened from the desk. “We’re not making this into a punishment, man.”

  “No. You’re saying that I can’t handle it, because I’ve got a steel plate in my leg.”

  Oz shook his head. “You proved you’re physically up to par.”

  “Damn right.” He set his jaw.

  “You sure you really want to do this, Bodhi?” Oz rarely used his first name. Everyone knew him as North. Hell, he hadn’t even heard that name for so many weeks that it jarred him when he did. And Oz fucking knew it—he used it now to get his attention.

  “I’m sure. I’m fucking going. It’s my mission.”

  “North.” Madeline’s voice brought his attention around. He met her gaze. “If something happens to you, it hits us where it hurts. Maybe you should reconsider.”

  “I’ll be back to take over the maps. In the meantime, get the new guy into this seat.” He referred to their newest member, Sanders.

  “He’s still in training, but if you’re set on taking this mission, we have no other choice.” Oz waved to Madeline. “Get Sanders on it.” He pivoted to face North.

  They traded a look, each determined, but North felt he’d gotten the upper hand. It still pissed him off beyond belief that Oz and Madeline had discussed him behind his back. Of course, he bore the blame as well. From the start, he never should have grown passive. He should have jumped straight into the dark, shark-infested waters and accepted a mission from day one of his return.

  He and Oz stared at each other for another second and then North dropped to his chair again. His fingers flew over the keys, and he brought up the main owner of the oil rig impacted by the new box office hit.

  “Usually these rigs are owned by men with more foreign names.” He looked at a photograph of a man in a business suit, blond and blue-eyed.

  “He owns two of the eighteen biggest offshore drilling companies. The guy’s got more money than God.” Madeline had his financials on her screen. “His company employs thirty-thousand people. And they all walked off yesterday after the movie premiere. This must have been brewing, but I don’t believe it’s coincidence.”

  North rasped his knuckles over his five o’clock shadow. “No wonder they want to pin their anger on someone. But the actress isn’t to blame.” He searched Sloane Sailor’s face again. The beauty gazed at him from a headshot linked to her latest role, dark eyes almost appealing to him for help.

  “I’m
going now. I’ve got enough information to find her and keep her safe.” He turned to his boss. “I need the jet.”

  * * * * *

  Sloane eyed the bucket of raw meat she’d dug out of the dumpster behind the butcher shop. The meat had started to turn, and she breathed shallowly at the smell as she gripped the bucket handle and hauled it out of her car trunk.

  Darkness shrouded her. She’d chosen this moonless, cloudy night on purpose—having cover was top priority when breaking a woman out of an unpredictable man’s house.

  Her footsteps were quiet as she hurried down the lane, careful to avoid the gravel that would reveal her presence to the dogs. The bucket bumped against her hip, and she’d probably bear a bruise there by morning. But hopefully, she’d also have another of that motherfucker’s hostages freed.

  A slight huff sounded from her right, and she turned toward the noise, digging her fingers into the meat inside the bucket. When a dog rounded the shed, a thick chain around his neck, Sloane suddenly wished she could steal the dog too. She had no doubt that this man mistreated everything in his possession. Any man who could buy a young, underage and innocent girl for his wife didn’t give a damn about caring for his animals either.

  When the dog rumbled out a low growl of warning, she tossed the chunked meat at him. He sniffed it and then began gulping the food while she made a run for it. She didn’t stop until she reached the back yard.

  Before the dogs chained up there could bark, she dumped the entire bucket of meat. They leaped on the morsels, and Sloane ran up the steps to the door. She already knew where this bastard kept his key. After locating it, she slipped it into the lock and entered the house.

  She could see the headline now—Movie Maven Sloane Sailor Arrested for Breaking and Entering.

  Add kidnapping to that.

  The house stunk of unwashed bedding and trash. She moved quickly—no time to waste. As she rushed by the living room, she saw what she expected—the man passed out drunk in his chair.