by Nana Malone
They both hummed with satisfaction when her hands came into contact with his chest. Wide eyed, she slid them lower, and he locked his jaw. Fuck. If she touched him, it was all over. He didn't make a habit of one-night stands. That was War's department. But he wanted this girl enough that he almost didn't care. He wanted her too much. Needed her too badly. It had been too long since he'd allowed himself contact, allowed himself to connect with someone. But as much as he wanted her, his conscience tickled the back of his mind. This girl was clearly running from something, and he didn't want to be the kind of asshole who took advantage of that. "I—"
"Shane, please."
Fuck, she couldn't keep looking at him like that. He wasn't a fucking saint. "You're beautiful."
She averted her gaze and reached for him again. This time he went easily, but she made a whimper of protests when he kissed her collarbone. Her pelvis arched into him as she silently offered herself. The scent of her perfume spurred him on. The light flowery smell mixing with the scent of her skin to intoxicate him.
He kissed just below her collarbone, down the center of her chest, and she drew in a shallow breath, her fingers lacing through his hair and drawing him close.
The jersey fabric of her dress molded to her flesh, displaying the gentle curve of her breast as if they were an open feast for him. With his thumb, he nudged aside the stark white fabric, exposing her nipple to his view. The moment the cool air of the room hit her exposed skin, the peak stiffened.
His pulse thundering in his skull, he watched in fascination as he circled the mocha-tipped nipple, teasing it. With every stroke, she bit her bottom lip, and then rocked her hips into his. She was so damn responsive, so hot.
"Shane, oh my God."
With every rock of her body into his, he bit back a curse. If she kept rubbing herself against him, he'd lose it for sure. But he loved this. Loved how open she was, how she responded to him.
Unable to help himself any longer, he dipped his head and sucked the pebbled tip into his mouth. So fucking sweet. She rolled her hips, and he clamped a hand on her hip. She had to stop. Damn, he was already too fucking close, and he couldn't lose control with her. He wouldn't.
"Shane."
He released her nipple with full intention of paying the same kind of attention to the other one when he heard a text chime twice in a row. From the time they he and War had been kids, they'd worked out ways of notifying each other of impending trouble. The product of bored kids who were spy obsessed growing up. Two rapid chimes meant trouble was incoming.
With a groan, he dragged his lips from her breast. Still panting, he forced himself to a standing position and reached for his shirt. "Any chance one of those goons followed you here? War says I've got incoming trouble."
Her gaze darted to his phone. "Is that who texted you?"
He was supposed to be staying out of trouble. But somehow trouble kept finding him. "Yes. Now is probably a really good time to start talking. Who's after you?"
Her face fell, and she was quick to readjust her clothes and scooted off the bed. "I have to go."
Yes, let her go. But something deep down told him he'd regret it if he did. Though, in all fairness, he probably shouldn't be listening to his cock at a time like this. "Who are you?"
"Shane, I’m so sorry. I swear, I'm nobody."
The hell she was. "In my experience, nobodies don't have people chasing them. If you don't tell me the truth, I can't help you."
She shook her head as she practically jogged into the sitting area and stepped into her shoes. "I don't need help. Those guys are my security team. Or rather, my father's security team. My dad is…a little over protective. If they find me in here, with you, you're going to have a very bad night, and I’ll be going to college in some far off convent. I have to go."
"I don't understand."
"I'm really sorry."
And just like that, with him staring after her, she walked out of his life.
* * *
Tris’s hands shook as she stumbled out of Shane’s room. She gave herself a second to decompress from the building pressure in her head and leaned up against the wall, dragging in deep breaths.
Had she really done that? Gone to some random guy’s room? Had she really walked away from that? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Who cared if Roland and his men caught her? She was technically an adult now. But they would make his life hell.
And that thought alone kept her from knocking on his door and finding out if the promise of his kisses would deliver or not. No, he didn’t need her particular brand of headache. One step at a time. Once she was halfway to the elevators, it was easier to keep going. Then it was easy to push the button.
When the door slid open, she was hardly surprised to find Roland standing inside with a wry smile. “Tristia, you’ve given my guys a hell of a chase tonight.”
She scowled at him and considered taking the stairs, but she knew if she didn't go willingly, he’d have no problem slinging her over his shoulder. “Roland. I thought I was free of you.”
He shrugged. “Not just yet it seems,” he muttered as he handed her the phone. “Your father would like a word.”
She snatched the phone from his hand, and then shot him an apologetic smile. None of this was his fault. He was just following orders. It was her father she was really pissed at.
“Dad,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
The warm rich sound of bass in his voice filled her with memories, both bad and good. There had been a time when he hadn’t been so crazy about her safety, when he’d been fun. They’d had fun together. But things were different now.
“Do you want to tell me why you insist on making Roland’s job so difficult?”
She slid her long-time bodyguard a glance as they rode down to her floor. “That all depends.”
“On what?”
“If you intend to break the promise you made me.”
He sighed. “Tristia, you know—“
She cut him off. “Unless you plan on saying yes, you should probably stop right there.”
“Tristia, I am still your father. I will do what I need to protect you.”
She was so sick to death of this. She needed to cut the cord with an industrial meat cleaver. If she really wanted her freedom, it meant no using Daddy dearest as a safety net. “I hear you, but you need to hear me. Until you can keep your promises, I’m done.” She hit the end button on the phone. Her heart beat a panicked rhythm, but she needed to do this. Otherwise, she’d be in her thirties with the armed goons tailing her, V-card still intact.
Chapter 5
"You gotta let all that shit go, man."
Shane stared in awe as Dr. Andrew Michaels stepped back and took an easy three-point shot from the line. As if his true calling should have been basketball instead of Psychiatry. Because he sure was different than any other shrink Shane had ever heard of.
For starters, instead of his hyper-modern office, for their sessions, they went out to the nearby park and they hooped. It made it much easier for Shane to talk. Certainly more comfortable than that stuffy office.
"It's not that easy to let go, Doc."
"Sure it is. Just shed the dead weight. You’re carrying around all these heavy, useless thoughts. Look, I just want you to try a visualization exercise. Every time you have a useless thought. Picture yourself stopping at the side of the road and unloading it. Physically at first, then mentally. You'll find yourself a lot lighter."
Considering the shit Shane carted around, that might be easier said than done. But it wouldn’t' hurt to give it a shot. Dr. Michaels’ methods had already helped.
The idea that the shit his father used to tell him wasn't true, that they were lies, that he needed to replace them with thoughts that were productive was often difficult for him to grasp.
At first, Shane had written the good doctor off as a hippy, but his methods worked at least for him. The nightmares weren't as bad as they used to be. These days, he even managed to get sleep
, so he was grateful. But the guilt over killing his father still lingered.
"Are you looking forward to getting to know your uncle?"
Shane’s father's youngest brother had been a very late in life baby for his grandfather. Six months ago, his uncle had offered him a fresh start, away from pain. A chance to start new, so he'd lept at the chance. "Yeah, he's cool." Dribble, shoot. The ball swished down the net.
Dr. Andrews nodded. "I'm going to recommend that Caleb put you on active duty. Just give me a call any time you want to practice your jumper."
"Yeah, I could do that."
"Remember what I said. Your father was a liar. Only you determine your fate.”
Shane aimed another shot, but missed. "I guess I need some practice."
The Doctor chuckled. "We all do."
* * *
Shane had always had a different image of his uncle Caleb in his head. Granted, his father had rarely ever said anything about his much younger brother.
But when Shane had met his uncle at his father's funeral six months ago, the real picture surprised him. For starters, the guy was young. There was less than six years separating them. Secondly, while former military, Caleb didn't have the same hard edges that Shane’s father did. And finally, so far, Caleb wasn't a son of a bitch. A fact that went far in Shane's book.
And he and Caleb also had a lot in common. For starters, they'd both been Foreign Service. Shane's father had about blown a gasket when he said he wasn't going into the military. Their relationship hadn't survived him making his own choices.
He'd only been in for four years before the old man died, and somehow, he didn’t have the heart to go back. When Caleb had offered him a job, he'd been surprised, but he'd jumped at the chance. It was a fresh start. No shadow of the old man. No more living with the guilt of being responsible for his father’s death.
As Caleb kissed his fiancée Micha and swatted her butt, Shane pretended not to notice and suddenly became very interested in a photo on the wall.
Micha laughed and smacked Caleb back, her laugh low and throaty. "You're embarrassing Shane. Come on."
She turned that megawatt grin in his direction, and Shane blinked rapidly, unsure where to look. Micha Bennet was a stunner, and he was pretty sure checking out his uncle's fiancée was a sure way to get his ass fired.
"You'll have to forgive your uncle. He has no shame. Make sure we see you for dinner this weekend, okay?"
He nodded his head obediently. She'd just taken him in sight unseen, insisting that he was family. Not to mention something told him it might be best if he didn't dare contradict her. It was clear that she was formidable, and just as clear that Caleb loved her. Absently, he wondered if he'd ever feel that strongly about anything or anyone. Growing up, his father had labeled any kind of attachment weakness. So Shane spent most of his life acting like he didn't care about anything just so the old man wouldn't take it away.
His uncle watched affectionately as she sashayed down the hallway, but the moment she was out of sight, he was all business again. "How are you settling in, Shane?"
"I, uh, I'm good. Thank you for helping me with the apartment and everything. It's a really nice place."
Caleb waved a hand dismissively. "Not a problem. I thought the renter would be out of mine by now, but there was some problem or another. Luckily, Jaya's old place was open, so it all worked out."
"It's perfect."
"Good." He changed the subject quickly. "Did you see the shrink?"
So they were going to do this. "Yeah, five sessions. He determined that I was experiencing normal emotions after a trauma."
"And you're sure you don't want to return to the Foreign Service? I spoke to your supervisor on your last post. They were exceptionally sad to see you go."
He cleared his throat. He'd loved that job. His last post had been in Accra, Ghana, in the security department. But it wouldn't be the same to go back now. Not after everything that had happened.
"No, I'm ready to do something new." Something that didn't remind him every day of how he'd disappointed the old man. "And I appreciate the chance at a job, Uncle Caleb."
Caleb winced. "Okay, can it with the uncle thing. I'm only six years older than you. Your dad was nearly twenty-five when I came along. You make me feel old."
Shane bit back a smirk. "Then what do I call you? Boss?"
His uncle sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "How about we go with, Caleb, okay?"
"I can do that." He met his gaze. "I appreciate the job. I won't fuck it up." Maybe if he did something good with his life he could shake the guilt over killing his father.
Caleb frowned. "Of course you won't." He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. "I told you at Bryan's funeral that you had a home and a job here if you wanted it, and I was serious about that. I know my brother could be a son of a bitch, and he rode you hard to be the spitting image of him. I honestly knew him mostly by rumor. He wasn't so keen when Dad married my mother, so I never saw him. But I didn't agree with a lot of what he put you through. And I'm sure I only heard snippets. You don't have to kiss my ass in this job. I honestly want you to be happy."
Fuck. That was the most emotion he'd ever really had showered on him. War's version of emotion was to call once a week with a "Hey asshole, you still breathing?" comment or two. Shane blinked rapidly. Shit would have been a hell of a lot easier if Caleb had been his father. "I appreciate it." If he lost it in front of his uncle, he would never live it down.
Caleb shifted on his feet like he was just as uncomfortable by all the talky talky. "Cool. So now that we've poured it all out for Oprah, I have an assignment for you."
They both sat, Caleb taking up post in his wide leather chair. Shane perked up. He'd been dreading the idea of desk work. "Oh yeah?"
"It's a basic babysitting gig. Straight surveillance. It calls for someone young."
Not particularly exciting, but it beat filing. "Just call me Jump Street. How long is the gig?" At twenty-three, he still looked young enough to pull off college senior.
"It's a trial period. A month to start."
He frowned. "That's a long time to tail someone. Anything in particular I'm looking for?"
"It's mostly a babysitting gig. A girl at the local university. Her name is Tristia Munroe. She had a major stalking incident in the past that resulted in her kidnapping."
"Shit." He sat straighter in his seat. "My assumption is they caught the guy?"
Caleb nodded. "Girl escaped and sent cops to the location. Instead of being captured, he killed himself."
"Fuck. That's messed up."
"You can say that again. Her father has had security on her since."
Shane frowned. Even though the threat was eliminated? "Who's her father?"
"Robert Munroe."
Why did he feel like he should know the name? "Is there a recent threat? Seems a bit like overkill."
"That's her argument. Munroe agreed to drop the detail for her to go to college. But he has no intention of leaving her exposed."
There was something that pricked at his subconscious, but when he couldn't put his finger on the thought, he ignored it. "Any present threats?"
"Her father is oil money, so he's got some skeletons. Dabbles in real estate too. Lots of rumors of payoff and bribes. Do you remember the Nafti partnership for all those large-scale skyscrapers? A couple of years ago?”
Shane nodded. “The one that went tits up after it was discovered the CEO, Norman Heft, had been running an elaborate Ponzi scheme?”
“That’s the one. Word is some of the other partners got it in their heads that Munroe knew about Heft’s swindling and lined his own pockets. His wife was diagnosed with cancer the year before, but she’d been in remission. She was killed in a car hit and run. Munroe claimed it was some sort of attempt at retaliation, but nothing was ever proven. It’s unsolved.”
Caleb rubbed his chin. “Usually, he receives a half dozen nastygrams a month. Mostly from environmental group
s. Some of the more fringe ones make veiled threats against his daughter. But nothing worth taking too seriously until he put in his bid to run for President of Trinidad. There are a lot of people who want him in jail, or worse, and won’t hesitate to use his daughter to get to him.”
“So when you said simple, you meant delicate and complicated?”
“Exactly. You were Foreign Service for a reason, right? You'll go undercover as her Resident Assistant."
"Will the school help us maintain cover?"
Caleb nodded as he cracked his knuckles. "Cooperation can be bought. Munroe has his own security, so we'll need to coordinate with them."
"Why aren't they doing the surveillance?"
Caleb grinned. "He promised her she wouldn't be going to class with linebackers tailing her. So he wants someone unknown who can blend in. This file has your cover in it. You'll be a senior at San Diego University."
He was going back to college? "It's weird, I didn't exactly have the full college experience last time around."
He'd started taking classes at University of Nevada, Las Vegas when he was sixteen. But there hadn't been time for keggers and friends. Not in his father's plan. His father had always pushed him to be brighter, better, faster. Even if it meant foregoing friends and fun.
While his classmates had been playing sports and hanging out with girls, he’d been graduating high school early, thanks to summer classes and a hard ass for a father. College had been no different. He’d graduated in three years instead of four at age nineteen. After that, it had been straight to the Foreign Service.
"Well, now's your chance. We're still working out some of the details. The plan is to have you be a teaching assistant for one of her classes as well."
"If she's studying engineering, then I'm golden. Anything other than that, I'll struggle with a bit."
"From what I know she's a Sociology major."
Fantastic. “It'll be hard to fake."
"We'll figure something out. But, Shane, one thing. She’s family—Ricca’s cousin. So a viable threat or not, nothing bad happens to that girl. Client made it clear, in no uncertain terms, he doesn’t want her to have so much as a hangover. Same goes for guys. She’s been real sheltered. Just the kind of girl that some drunken frat boy will try to get his hands on. It’s your job to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
