by Jenna Rose
Guarding Her Love
Unstoppable Alphas Book 5
Jenna Rose
Copyright © 2019 by Jenna Rose
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
About the book
Everything changed when she crashed into my life.
Once a Marine, always a Marine.
You may be out, but you never lose the attitude.
When I saw her being pursued by “the police,” I knew there was something else going on.
And it goes all the way to the top.
I knew she was in over her head, and it was up to me to save her.
But you know what’s funny? She might just end up saving me…
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Contents
1. Dawson
2. Dawson
3. Joy
4. Dawson
5. Joy
6. Joy
7. Dawson
8. Joy
Epilogue
1
Dawson
“Bitch, if you don’t move the fuck over, I’m going to literally pee on you!”
“Bitch, you do that, and I’ll dump this vodka on your fucking bed!”
Yeah, this is my life now, I think as what I hope will be my last fare of the night hops into my car for their Uber ride home. I never thought after enlisting in the Marines, serving my country in the Middle East, that I’d end up doing this for a living.
But what do you do when your wife, who you thought was the love of your life since high school, leaves you for who you thought was your best friend? I trained for the worst of the worst, but nothing prepares you for being blindsided like that.
The girls pile onto each other in the back seat and I pull away from the club as they both immediately get on their phones and start drunk-texting.
“Ew, Josh wants me to come over,” the blonde groans. “Says he wants to cuddle.”
“Aka, fuck,” her friend, the redhead, replies.
“Been there, done that,” the blonde laughs. “No thanks.”
“I thought you liked Josh?”
“I like his apartment! I like his car! What I don’t like is his Millimeter-Peter and disgusting back hair.”
Shoot me. Just shoot me.
It’s almost 1AM and I just want to get home, watch some Netflix and crash. I’ve been driving all day, as I have for the last six days. Gloria took half of what I had in the divorce, and I blew through a good chunk of what I had left on booze, just trying to forget about her.
“Um, can you drive a little faster?” the redhead asks. “Or do you have like…a bottle? I really have to pee.”
“You want me to break the speed limit?” I ask.
“Um, everyone breaks the speed limit,” she replies. I’m already going five over, but I push it to ten; I want to get these girls out of here just as badly as they want to be gone.
I’ve had about all I can take of their gossip by the time I pull up in front of their apartment and let them out. They don’t even say anything; they just clamber out of the car and wobble across the road in their heels. My phone dings and I see they didn’t bother tipping me either. Typical.
My phone rings as I’m pulling away from the curb. It’s Tim, a buddy from my unit who I recently got in touch with when he moved to the area.
“Dawson’s Pizza,” I answer.
“Yeah, I’d like a large sausage,” Tim replies.
“Oh, I bet you would,” I laugh.
“Heading home?” he asks.
“Thank God.”
“One of those nights, eh?”
“One of those days.”
“Come on, man,” he chuckles. “No prospective girlfriends in those twelve hours? Weren’t you driving near the clubs tonight?”
“Sure was,” I sigh. “Think I’d rather be driving downtown by the pet shop. How bad of a look is it for a 32-year-old single man to get a cat?”
“Cat? You lost your mind, dude?” Tim replies. I can hear the disgusted expression on his face through the phone. “Oh, that’s right; you’d prefer a pet to the real thing.”
“Hey, at least a cat won’t leave you.”
“You still not over that two-timing slut, man? Forget her, dude. There’s plenty of fish in the sea.”
“I don’t want plenty of fish,” I reply. “I just want one…fish. The perfect fish.”
“Doesn’t exist, pal. Unless you’re talking about fresh caught Atlantic salmon, pan fried with thyme and butter.”
Tim loves to cook. I can barely make a steak without charring the shit out of it. It’s a shame he’s not a woman; we’d make a pretty good couple.
“I gotta go, Tim,” I tell him. Normally, I’d be happy to chat for the ride home, but I know he’s just going to hassle me more on my “celibacy” and how I need to get back out there and start dating, and I don’t want to hear it.
“Hey, man. I’m just trying to talk some sense into you,” he persists. “How about that girl, Susan I’ve been trying to set you up with? She’s free tomorrow night.”
“Sure, put me down for a date,” I reply.
“You’re a shitty liar,” Tim laughs.
“Later.”
I hang up and set my phone aside and take another breath. Tim is just trying to help, but I’m really not interested. I’m not actively trying to be a monk – to be celibate – but I’m also not looking to just hook up with a ton of girls either. I want one woman—the perfect woman.
I thought I had her with Gloria. We met my junior year of high school, dated until graduation, and she stayed with me for the whole time I was in the service, even when I was deployed overseas. Knowing she was at home waiting for me gave me the strength to make it through those times. But when I got back, it all came crashing down.
I tried dating a bit after her, but it all felt hollow. Call me a romantic, call me old fashioned, but if I don’t feel that spark the moment I meet a girl, I’m just not interested. And since Gloria, that spark’s been missing from my life.
My breaks squeal as I take a turn past the railroad tracks, and just as I’m pulling up the hill, a white station wagon crashes right into me.
“Shit!” I cry out as my head slams into the steering wheel and the seatbelt cuts into my chest. The passenger side window shatters and I look up to see steam spraying from the hood of the car that just hit me.
“Oh, unbelievable!” I exclaim. I have to laugh; after the day – after the year I’ve had – this is just the cherry on top of the most bitter sundae in the world. I unbuckle my seatbelt, shove my door open and get out of the car. The driver’s sitting motionless in their car, and as I get closer, I see it’s a woman. She’s slumped over the steering wheel with her hair covering her face. Her window’s down, and when I look in, thankfully, I don’t see any blood.
“Tell me you’re not dead,” I say. But she doesn’t move. Fuck. Her door is all mangled and crushed against my car, so I have to go around to the passenger side to get to her. I lean across the seat and gently lean her back and brush the hair from her face, and what I see takes my breath away.
She’s gorgeous, devastatingly so. Smooth skin, plump lips, long soft hair…and curves that go on for days. She’s got a wicked bu
mp on her head too, and while I’m really worried about her, I can’t stop my body from responding the way any man’s would.
“Jesus…” I whisper under my breath as I put my hand on her neck. She has a pulse, so thankfully she’s not dead – just out cold. I look around and find a water bottle on the ground, pour some into my hand and splash it on her face. “Hey. You all right?”
Her face twitches, her eyelids flutter and she slowly opens her eyes. When she sees me, she loses her shit.
“No!” she cries out, flailing her arms frantically. She swings one fist at my face; I catch it, and she swings another. I catch it too and push them back against the seat.
“Relax, relax!” I tell her, trying to keep my voice at a reasonable level. “I’m not here to hurt you. You were in an accident, all right? You ran into my car. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
“Wh—what?” she stammers. “I what?”
“You ran into my car,” I repeat. “Are you all right? Do you know where you are?”
“I—”
She’s confused. Her voice is strained, but I’m captivated by her. Her eyes blaze with an intensity I have never seen from a woman, and I feel a swell of something inside me that I haven’t felt in years. A spark, like I never thought I’d feel again.
“What’s your name?” I ask her. She looks around, panicked, like she’s running from something or someone. I reach out and gently take her face and pull it back; her eyes lock on to mine and I feel it again.
Holy shit.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I tell her. “What’s your name?”
“J—Joy,” she stammers. “My name is Joy.”
Joy. Yeah, that’s what I’m feeling.
2
Dawson
My whole world is spinning and it’s not from the car crash. Joy may have just slammed into me, but that’s nothing compared to the way her eyes are rocking me now. It’s completely the wrong time, and I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way, but my body is screaming out at me to kiss her. There’s nothing I want to do more, but first I have to make sure she’s safe – make sure she’s okay.
“Joy, I’m Dawson. What happened?” I ask her. “Do you remember? Did you lose control of your car? Have you—have you been drinking?”
“Ew, no!” she replies, obviously insulted. She sits up. “I wasn’t drinking; I was run—”
Her voice cuts off and she looks at me suspiciously.
“I was just driving too quickly,” she says, but I’m no dummy; I know that’s not what she was going to say. She was about to say she was running from someone. Instantly, my trained reflexes kick in and I scan the environment for any potential threats. I don’t see any, but I do hear the sound of multiple vehicles approaching from the South Side.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I try to unbuckle her seatbelt, but the buckle is busted. Quickly, I grab my knife off my belt. Her eyes go wide when she sees the blade, but I put a firm hand on her chest to calm her.
“I have to cut you out of your seatbelt,” I tell her. “Don’t move, okay?”
She’s breathing heavily and her heart rate is definitely elevated, but she does as I ask and stays still as I slice the seatbelt and pocket my knife.
“All right, take my hand,” I tell her. She does; her hand is smooth and soft, half the size of mine, and I help her out of her totaled car. Then I get a good look at her.
Standing up, her curves are even more mouth-watering. Her breasts are full and high on her chest, and her nipples are hard; she’s not wearing a bra. She’s carrying a few extra pounds compared to most girls, but she’s carrying them well. Besides, I like a little more cushion for the pushin’. Oh, and her hips…baby-making hips.
I sweep my eyes up her, from her cute pair of white sneakers to her patterned yoga pants to her white top that’s barely holding back her Double-Ds…
…at least.
When my eyes reach hers, I realize I’ve been blatantly checking her out, and try to casually play it off.
“Where are you headed?” I ask. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
“3rd Street. You know where that is?”
“I drive Uber,” I tell her. “I know where everything is.”
“Uber?” she frowns. “You look more like a military guy to me.”
I nod, impressed. “Good eye. Marines.”
She nods back and smiles. “Well thank you for your service.”
Chuckling, I hold the door for her and she slides into the car. I get in beside her and wince when I see the bump on her head.
“I should get you to the hospital,” I tell her. She shakes her head quickly.
“No, just take me home,” she says. “I’ll ice it.”
“You sure? We should at least call this in and get your car towed. Do you have insurance?”
“No, we shouldn’t…” Joy’s voice trails off as the sound of police sirens begin to wail in the distance. She glances out the window as the lights appear a few blocks down, then spins back to face me, her eyes filled with fear.
“We have to get out of here!”
“What? Nah, don’t worry about it,” I assure her. “I’ll tell them it was nobody’s fault and it’ll be fine—”
“No, you don’t understand!” she says as blue and red lights blaze behind her like a halo. “They’re after me!”
“Who? Who’s after you?”
She whirls around in her seat again as two police cruisers pull onto the block; one of them pulls up very close behind me, and the other comes right up beside me on the passenger side.
Odd behavior for a crash…
“Please!” she whispers, clutching my hand in fright. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get you involved in this, but you have to get me out of here!”
“Wait a minute,” I reply. “Are you a criminal or something?”
“No! And those guys are not cops!”
Suddenly, the cruiser behind me blasts its horn and the cop’s voice blares over the loudspeaker.
“This is the police. Do not attempt to leave the scene. You have a wanted felon in your vehicle and we are going to arrest her. Thank you for your cooperation.”
I glance in my rearview mirror and lock eyes with the cop. He’s young, in full uniform, and looks like he knows what he’s doing.
“They’re not cops!” Joy hisses again. “They’re going to kill me! You have to help me!”
“I gotta do what they ask,” I grumble. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“Please!”
Joy’s voice is breaking my heart; I want to help her but what am I supposed to do? I’m boxed in by two police cruisers. If I run, I’ll be a criminal too.
“Do not exit your vehicle,” the cop’s voice sounds out again from the loudspeaker. “We will be arresting your passenger now. Remain seated with both hands on the steering wheel.”
Something isn’t right. I’ve got a bad feeling about all this. I’ve been trained for combat and dangerous situations, and my instincts aren’t usually wrong. Something about the way the cop behind me is looking at me, and the way he’s speaking, just doesn’t feel…right.
The cop beside me exits his vehicle with his hand on his holster. I glance up at him to see if he’s on his radio; if what they say is true, one of them should have called for backup by now. But neither of them have.
“Please,” Joy pleads with me, tears pooling in her eyes. “Help me!”
I start to shake my head, but that’s when I see it: the cop’s service weapon. Cops generally carry Glocks or 9mm Berettas, but as he draws his gun, I can clearly see a .50 Caliber Desert Eagle – basically a hand cannon. There’s no way a cop would carry one of those. Those are wartime weapons, not standard issue law enforcement.
I glance in the rearview mirror again, and as the cop turns his head slightly, I see the tattoo on his neck: a star commonly worn by members of the Russian mafia. What the hell has this girl gotten herself into?
“Get your head down,” I whisper.
In a flash, I shift the car into reverse and slam on the gas. The cop beside me throws himself out of the way as I yank the wheel hard and crash into his cruiser. The impact knocks Joy back in her seat, and I reach out with my arm and push her head down as the gunshots ring out.
The rearview window shatters as I shift into drive and floor it. The tires squeal as more bullets pepper my car. I duck as low as I can as I slam into Joy’s car, knocking it out of the way, and hammer it, speeding away from the two fake-cops as fast as possible.
I may be making a big mistake by intervening like this, but I know that leaving her at the mercy those two men would be an even bigger mistake – one that I could never forgive myself for.
3
Joy
I can’t believe it. He’s helping me!
Four more shots thud against the car as Dawson speeds away from the two thugs Senator Bryant hired to kill me. I should have seen it coming; I should have known that he was watching me after his laptop went missing last month. It wasn’t me that had it, but I was the first one he suspected. But now that I know what I know, he can’t let me live. I thought that I was done for when I crashed into Dawson’s car, but now I’m sure I wouldn’t be alive without him.
What are the chances that I would end up driving straight into the car of an ex-Marine, a gorgeous ex-Marine who actually seems to have a heart and is willing to put his life on the line for a total stranger? I’m crying, scared out of my mind, my heart is pounding and I’m just about bursting with adrenaline, but when I glance over at him, his strong hands gripping the steering wheel and his chiseled jaw clenched tight with concentration, I’m also swooning.
