Cook's Choice: A Bad Boy Protector Romance (Lost Boys Book 4)

by Janice M. Whiteaker

  “Only three?” Levi reaches out to smooth down my hair. “I would have expected more from them.”

  “They probably hid them.” I’m not even sure how I feel about the possibility that there are still little old ladies packing at Elm Grove.

  On one hand, a little old lady with a gun might have saved my life. On the other, she could have just as easily ended it.

  Levi takes my cup and sets it on the table beside his bed.

  He pulls me close, cradling me against his chest.

  Never would I have guessed the man covered in colors and piercings would be so gentle. So careful.

  So attentive.

  I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have guessed it either.

  “We need to go tell Kerri and Jill.”

  All the air rushes out of my lungs.

  “How do you think they’ll feel about it?”

  Levi’s fingers stroke across my cheek in slow passes. “Probably like you do. Conflicted.”

  I cuddle closer to him. I’ve never had someone like him in my life. A person who supports me in whatever I want to do. Let’s me just be what I am. “I’m sort of grateful to him.”

  Levi is very still. “I’m not sure I follow that one, Pinky.”

  I reach out to trace one of the lines in the FrankenFood logo inked across Levi’s arm. “He is the reason I found you.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a long time.

  “I’m having a hard time feeling the same way, Pinky.” He leans back so our eyes meet. “Without King you wouldn’t be alive, but the way it happened...” His eyes fall from mine.

  “I know.” I wish my existence arose from different circumstances too.

  But it didn’t.

  I am alive because a man raped my mother. An act that ruled her life. Controlled her from that point on, and led her to inflict the fallout on me. Her intentions were good, I know that.

  But it was still wrong.

  She was still wrong.

  There was only one person at fault for what happened the day I was conceived, and that man is sitting in a cold room.

  Dead and alone.

  No one to mourn his death.

  As it should be.

  “What do we do now?” I rest my head against the pillow, watching Levi.

  “We do whatever you want to do, Pinky.” He smiles. “I do what you do.”

  “Knock, knock.”

  I lean up to look at the long-haired man in the doorway.

  Levi sits up, careful to ease away from me slowly. “Hey, man.” He jumps up from the bed to go give the man they call Gypsy a handshake and a hug. “How’s it going?”

  “Good.” His eyes move to me for a second before going back to Levi. “I heard what happened.”

  “He’s dead.” Levi’s tone is cold.

  “You sure?”

  Levi nods. “Just died this morning.” He steps back, tipping his head toward me. “We’re heading over to Jill’s to tell her and Kerri.”

  “Let me know if I can do anything.” Gypsy gives me a wave. “I’ll see you later.”

  Levi closes the door behind him and comes back to the bed.

  “Are he and his wife coming back here?”

  “Maybe.” Levi settles onto the bed beside me. “How do you feel about that?”

  “This is their home. It’s more about how they feel about me being here, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about on that front.” Levi hands me my coffee. “Felicity will be more happy than you can imagine to have a little more estrogen in the house, especially with Moon staying here now.”

  The firehouse is huge. Set up to accommodate a whole slew of people.

  And that’s what it looks like might be filling it. “If you’re sure they don’t mind me being here.”

  Levi’s smile widens. “I think you’re about to have the family you never knew you wanted, Pinky.”

  ****

  “SO WAS HE still a part of The Horsemen?” Felicity’s gaze turns to where Shelly sits at my side. “Or not?”

  I look at the women around me. I have nothing to contribute to this conversation so all I can do is listen.

  “He was probably too crazy even for them.” Kerri sips at her glass of the drink Jill concocted for each of us with the exception of Felicity.

  She got a special, non-alcoholic one.

  “So maybe this is the end of all of it.” Jill tips her own glass my way. “All thanks to our girl.”

  “I don’t know that I did anything.” I shift in my seat.

  It’s my first girls’ night.

  It’s nothing like I expected.

  These women aren’t talking about men. Not in the sense I expected anyway.

  “Then I guess we’ll have plenty more time to talk business.” Shelly leans against the counter. “How are plans for the new club going?”

  Jill blushes just a little. “Good. Moon thinks he’s found us the perfect location.”

  The rest of the evening is spent going over the building specs, the design options, and potential timeline for this new nightclub Jill and the women around me have all decided to create.

  “So is this like a dance club?” I’ve been taking it all in, trying to figure out exactly what they are envisioning, but I’m not sure I get it. The building is in an area that doesn’t get much traffic and doesn’t look particularly well set-up for a nightclub.

  The women get quiet, their eyes moving from one to the next.

  “Not exactly.” Jill’s head tips from side to side. “It’s sort of a female empowerment kind of thing.”

  Shelly leans in close at my side. “It’s a strip club with a twist.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I nod along like I get it.

  I don’t. Not even a little bit.

  “It’s a place where women can own their power.” Jill straightens. “A place where men who like strong women can come and enjoy the evening with them.”

  I shift in my seat.

  I knew this group of people walked on the line that divides right and wrong.

  But prostitution is really far on the other side of that line.

  “Not what you’re thinking.” Kerri holds one hand up. “No sex for money.”

  “Spankings for money.” Felicity grins at me from her spot across the counter.

  “Not sex though?”

  “No.” Jill says it fast. “No sex.” She shakes her head. “That’s illegal.”

  “But this isn’t?”

  “It’s like a loophole. No sex. If someone accidentally gets off, that’s his own problem.” Kerri wrinkles her nose. “And he better clean that shit up.”

  “So the women are like...” I search around my very limited vocabulary on the subject. “Dominatrixes?”

  “According to Merriam-Webster, that word means a dominant woman.” Jill smiles. “So yes. In a very commercial and broad way.”

  I nod as their plan percolates around my brain. How different would my life be if I was raised to be strong? To know I had power over my own life and what happened in it?

  To not feel like I had to apologize for what I thought or felt or believed?

  To know that sex wasn’t dirty, or wrong, or bad?

  I look from woman to woman, ending with Jill.

  “You looking for investors?”

  Jill beams at me. “Why yes, we are.”

  ****

  Thank you so much for reading Cook’s story. I absolutely fell in love with him (I’m a sucker for a grumpy hero).

  What about you? Who’s your favorite Lost Boy so far?

  Don’t say Moon. You can’t pick him.

  Yet.

  His book will be the next in the Lost Boys series, and I’m pretty sure you can guess who his lady love will be.

  Come join my readers group on Facebook to find out more about my plans for Moon and the rest of the Lost Boys.

  Looking for something to read until the next book comes out?

  If you love the suspe
nse of this series, you might enjoy my Alaskan Security Series. I write it as Jemma Westbrook and you can find book one here.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at Loss Recovery, book 1 in the Alaskan Security-Team Rogue series.

  You can also check out my ENTIRE backlist here.

  “YOU READY TO be back in the cold?”

  Wade turned his attention from the small airplane window to where his closest friend sat beside him. “Not everyone likes Florida as much as your crazy ass does.”

  He and Brock just spent the past four weeks on the Gulf coast, making sure the daughter of a smuggler didn’t end up paying the ultimate price for what her father chose to do with his free time.

  It was four weeks too long.

  Brock leaned back in his leather seat on Alaskan Security's smallest jet, lifting one shoulder as he took a sip of his beer. “My love of Florida has nothing to do with the weather, though.” He shot Wade a grin. “You don’t get to see near as much skin in Alaska.” He started to tip his beer back again but stopped, eyes focusing on Wade. “Not that you took advantage of it.”

  Wade glared long and hard at Brock before turning back to look out at the snow-covered landscape getting closer with each passing second. “Not everyone is as driven by their dick as you are.”

  Brock scoffed in mock offense. “You wound me.”

  Wade didn’t bother responding. Brock meant well. His friend had tried everything to get him out of this funk for almost two years.

  That meant two years of Brock showing up at their hotel rooms with women. Two years of him dragging Wade to every bar they passed. Hell, at one point Brock even made him a fake Tinder account trying to get him to hook up with someone.

  Wade wasn’t interested in any of it.

  “You look over the file yet?” Thankfully, Brock must have realized it was time to move the conversation along.

  It was why they were still friends. Brock knew to push just far enough, and then back off before Wade had to be a dick.

  “No.” He barely glanced at the manila envelope as it fell into his lap. It didn’t really matter what was inside. Who he was protecting. This job no longer held the excitement it once did.

  The shine had worn off. Wiped away by the knowledge of what it stole from him.

  What he could never have because of it.

  “You should probably at least read it over before we get there. Might give the wrong impression if you don’t know what the fuck’s going on.” Brock’s tone was sharper now, showing his growing irritation with the perpetual bad mood Wade always wore. “Might make this woman doubt your ability to protect her if you don’t know who the fuck you’re supposed to be keeping away.”

  Wade snatched the file. “It’s not fucking rocket science.” He flipped open the file, pausing as Brock’s words sank in. “Her?” He scanned the top sheet of information. “I thought it was a man.” He found the name he remembered. “Roger Hines.”

  “That’s who hired us, but it was to protect his daughter.” Brock ran a finger down the page until it rested just below another name. “Bessie Hines.”

  “Another prick doing shit to put his family in danger?” It was a lucrative business they were in, offering protection to people who didn’t always deserve it.

  Unfortunately, it was also a business model Wade was struggling with more and more. It’s why he’d been pushing Shawn to assign him and Brock to jobs like the one in Florida. It was a way for him to lean a little more to the right side of the wrong line he walked.

  Brock shook his head. “Dude, this is why you’ve gotta fucking read the files.” He flipped to the next page of the stack of papers in the file. “She’s got a restraining order against some dick she used to date.”

  Wade stared down at the court record in front of him. “Does that say kidnapping?”

  “You’re the one reading it.” Brock polished off the last of his beer. “Finally.”

  “Ass.” Wade scanned the list of charges against Chris Snyder. “Have you read this shit?”

  Brock snorted. “Of course I’ve fucking read it.” He shook his head. “Some men don’t like to take no for an answer I guess.”

  “He’s going to have to learn how.” Wade straightened in his seat, feeling just a little like he used to. Maybe because he finally had a job that felt like it mattered.

  Like it would make a fucking difference.

  Sure they kept the girl in Florida safe. Knocked out a few shitty humans in the process, ridding the world of their presence. But at the end of the day it didn’t matter. Her father wasn’t going to quit doing what he was doing, and it was only a matter of time before she ended up on another bad guy’s radar.

  Ricardo’s voice came over the speaker. “Sit your asses down. We’re about to land.”

  Brock leaned to the left, yelling toward the open door to the cockpit. “You don’t have to use that thing, asshole. We can hear you.”

  The hollow sound of an open connection came across the speaker a second before their pilot’s voice. “Kiss my ass, Brock. I like it. Makes me feel professional.”

  “Professional my ass.” Brock flipped the file on Wade’s lap closed and shoved it into his bag. “Is it just teams of two on this one?”

  “Shawn hasn’t said different.” He and Brock were always partnered up, but depending on the situation, Shawn occasionally added another man to the teams they normally worked in. “Want me to ask Ricardo to join us?”

  “I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident.” Brock’s body jumped around a little as the plane touched down. He grabbed the seat in front of him and leaned into the aisle again. “That’s not fucking funny, Rico.”

  Ricardo’s deep laugh was loud enough to be heard over the sound of the air fighting the wing flaps as the plane slowed.

  Brock’s well-tanned skin paled as he gripped his bag to his chest. “Tell him that’s not fucking funny.”

  “Don’t give him shit and he won’t give you shit.” Wade grabbed his own bag and slung it over his shoulder as the plane made its way toward the small terminal of the tiny private airport where Alaskan Security stored their planes. He glanced out the window to see the rolling stairs were already out, being shoved into place by—

  Wade squinted at the man stomping his way across the tamarack. “Is that Shawn?”

  Brock leaned in beside him. “What the fuck is Shawn doing out there?”

  The plane came to a stop and Ricardo stepped through the doorway of the cockpit, black brows pushed together as he opened the door. “What the fuck is Shawn doing?”

  As soon as the door was open Shawn rushed through. He pointed at Brock and Wade. “Come on. We gotta go.”

  Wade stepped past Brock. “What’s wrong?”

  “Your lady showed up a day early and wasn’t real happy we weren’t ready for her.” Shawn shook his head a little. “That one is going to be a handful.”

  “Great.” Brock grabbed his coat and followed Wade out of the plane and down the steps. “Nothing worse than a woman who’s all wound up.”

  “Her ex-boyfriend is going schizo and the people her parents hired to keep her safe didn’t show up. I would say she has the right to be a little wound up.”

  Wade dropped his bag to the ground and shoved his arms into his black down-lined parka. The air here felt colder after spending so long in the heat of Florida, and the chill was already biting into his skin.

  “She wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.” Brock fought on his own coat as they kept walking to the black SUV waiting for them. “It’s not our fault she showed up a day early.”

  “Doesn’t matter. She’s probably scared shitless if she was willing to move here to hide from him.” Wade opened the door and climbed into the back seat, the heated interior already a welcome relief. He was getting soft. Maybe he’d sit outside naked for a while. Build his tolerance back up.

  It was one of the main reasons they were the only security company in the state. No one else could handle the f
rigid temperatures.

  It was also one of the main reasons their income was so lucrative and their schedule was so full. The cold meant less people and fewer cops. In Alaska you could virtually disappear. Good for the woman they were on their way to meet.

  But also good for criminals looking to hide out.

  Shawn jumped into the driver’s seat and immediately pulled away. “How was the flight?”

  “Fine.” Wade settled back in his seat. “Where is she at?”

  “I set her up in number five. Figured she deserved the nicest we had to offer since we dropped the ball.”

  Wade caught Shawn’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “We dropped the ball?”

  “Her father sent an email letting me know he was putting her on the next plane. Apparently there was an incident.”

  Fuck. No wonder this woman was upset. “What kind of an incident?”

  “He came to her house. Stood just outside the reach of the security cameras so she couldn’t prove he was there.”

  They didn’t deal with too many domestic cases. Most of what they did leaned more toward the jobs that no one else would take, either because of the questionable dealings of the client, or because the threat of violence was more of a guarantee.

  It was why they could charge what they did. The people they protected had the money to pay it and no other options.

  But this woman would have multiple options available to her. Anyone would have taken her case on.

  “Why did they hire us?” Brock voiced the thought working its way through Wade’s head.

  Shawn looked at them long and hard in the mirror. “I think you know the answer to that. He wants his daughter safe.” Shawn paused just long enough. “At any cost.”

  They weren’t mercenaries.

  Technically.

  But if the opportunity arose to take out someone who needed taking out, Team Rogue was more than happy to do the world a favor.

  Wade gave Shawn a nod. “Fair enough.”

  Brock leaned forward. “You have our phones?”

  “Everything’s in the back.” Shawn turned the SUV onto the narrow road leading to one of the ten safe-houses in the small town of Brisbane that Alaskan Security called home. “I grabbed you some clothes, but you might have to get more between shifts.”

  While out-of-state jobs were all work all the time, most local jobs were done with two-man teams, each working in ten-hour blocks before switching out.