by Sybil Bartel
Then he pulled back and kissed my forehead once like I meant the world to him. “I’m taking you in, and I’m taking you out. You get nervous, you need me to take over, just give me a single look. Understand?”
I couldn’t reply. My heart in my throat, I fought tears so hard, I thought I would break.
“Sienna?”
“I’m mad at you for sleeping with that woman last night,” I blurted.
He inhaled and looked like he was going to say something, but then he didn’t.
I pushed ahead. “I have no right to be.”
“I have no right to be pissed as hell that you fucked the quarterback, but I am.”
“That wasn’t last night.”
He nodded once, but he didn’t say anything.
“Would you have slept with her if I didn’t tell you to?”
He searched my face, then he answered truthfully. “I’m not a fucking prince, Red.”
I pulled away, wishing I’d never asked.
His large fingers wrapped around my upper arm, halting me. “But not for the reasons you think.”
I wasn’t thinking about reasons. I was feeling like my heart had just been broken, and I didn’t understand why. “I don’t trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
He was right, but I wanted to trust him. I stupidly wanted it all—the knight in shining armor, the castle, the whole ridiculous, irrational, mockery of every single real relationship out there—I wanted it. I wanted the fairy tale. And I wanted him to be it. But I knew better than to trust a man, let alone a man like him. “My boss is waiting.”
“You shouldn’t trust me, not because of last night, but because I haven’t earned it.”
Honesty. Like a blinking neon sign, the word popped in my head, and I grasped at it. Every sentence he’d ever spoken to me ran through my mind, and I realized there was one commonality underlying all of it. Honesty.
My mind reeled. “Do you have a Purple Heart?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t look injured.” It was the single most inappropriate sentence to ever cross my lips.
He didn’t take offense like he should have. “You haven’t seen me naked.”
I couldn’t help it, my eyes dropped to his pants.
He chuckled. “I’m not injured there, sugar.”
“Why do you sleep with women for money?”
As if he knew this was a test, he didn’t hesitant in his honesty. “Because it’s not only my body that’s scarred.”
My chest hurt, my heart broke and I wanted to reach for him so badly, it physically hurt to hold back. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I’m alive.”
He was humble and human and honest. I nodded because that’s all I had. A nod for the man who’d just destroyed everything I’d ever believed about men.
“You ready?” He took my hand.
I wasn’t but I nodded anyway and my feet moved automatically toward an office I could find blindfolded. Leading us down the corridor and through the glass door to my office suite, I took us to my boss’s closed door and knocked.
“Come in, dammit!”
I glanced nervously at Jared. “Please don’t hit him if he swears at me.” I was only half kidding.
“You’re asking a lot, Red.”
“Jared—”
He squeezed my hand then broke our connection to open the door for me. “I hear you.”
Taking a deep breath, I walked into my boss’s office.
Coach took one look at me and he practically growled. “I don’t have time for this shit, Montclair.”
Internally, I shrunk a foot. “Yes, sir.” But when I saw who was seated in one of the chairs on the other side of Coach’s desk, I winced.
Dan’s nose was taped up, bloodied cotton was stuffed up his nostrils and his eyes were already black and blue. He took one look at Jared and jumped to his feet. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“Shut up, Ahlstrom.” Coach pointed at me. “Do you know how much headache you’ve caused this team?”
It was always about the team. Everything was the team. “Yes, sir.”
“She didn’t cause anything. You can blame your quarterback for that.” Jared glared at Dan.
Dan snorted, as much as he could with his nose broken. “You admitting you know who I am now?”
“Enough!” Coach bellowed. “Sit down.”
Dan fell back into his chair.
“I prefer to stand, sir.” I wasn’t going to get fired while sitting in a chair like a coward.
Jared stood next to me. One hand over his wrist, the other hand in a fist, his stance widened slightly and his shoulders went straight. He looked every bit the marine he was trained to be.
Coach walked behind his desk. “How long has this been going on?”
“I went to lunch today and—” I started.
“I’m not asking about the damn restaurant, Montclair.” Coach lowered his voice. “You messing with Ahlstrom?”
I said “No” at the same time Dan said “She’s with me.”
I spun and glared at Dan. “I am not with you. I never was.” The cheating jerk.
“Lying doesn’t suite you, Sie.”
I hated him and his nickname. “Ditto.” It was a stupid retort, but I was too angry to come up with anything better.
Coach rubbed a hand over his head. “You both know the rules.” He eyed me. “And it’s not his ass that’s gonna be on the line. You know how this works.”
I did. With my head held high, I stood straight and braced for the worse. “Do what you have to, sir.” Jared’s hand landed on my shoulder, but I was too proud to push him away in front of Dan and Coach.
“Christ,” Coach muttered, tossing some papers around on his desk. “You’re on leave until the season is over, Montclair. Give your schedule to one of the other girls. And for God’s sake, don’t do a damn thing unless the lawyers tell you to. You don’t breathe without passing it by them first. Understand?”
I understood perfectly. It was the same speech I gave every player who ever got into trouble off the field. I’d said it so many times, I’d lost count after my first month on the job. “Yes, sir.”
Dan stood. “Sienna.”
Coach jabbed his pointer finger toward him like a weapon. “You’re on thin ice, Strom. You’re done talking to her.” He glanced at Jared. “Get her out of here.”
“Gladly.” Jared’s hand moved to the small of my back.
In an enormous show of restraint, I didn’t slam her asshole boss’s face into his desk or finish what I started with the fucking quarterback pussy.
My phone had been vibrating in my pocket, but I didn’t pull it out until I had her safely back in the Mustang. I had one text from Neil.
Media is at her house. The Mercedes is parked. The keys are at your place.
I fumbled through a text back to him.
Thx. Owe u one
His reply was almost immediate.
You owe me more than one.
No fucking shit. I glanced at Red. “You handled that like a boss.” She was a rock in that office, and I wanted to kiss her so fucking bad, but I knew I had to earn that right. But it didn’t stop me from touching her. I cupped her face. “You okay?”
“Humiliated, but fine.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t cause a scene at a restaurant trying to piss in the sand. That’s all him, Red.”
“I meant losing my job.”
“I didn’t hear you get fired.”
“It’s only a matter of time. By the end of the season, Coach will have another assistant.”
I brushed my thumb across her cheek then released her. I didn’t want to sit in the parking lot in case her ex came out and I’d be tempted to break both of his fucking arms. “How long have you worked for him?”
“Five years.” She leaned back in her seat and sighed. “Since my daddy got me the job.”
I glanced at her. “Your dad had an in with th
e team?”
“Ken DeMarco is my uncle.”
Jesus fuck. “The coach is your uncle?” And he’d treated her like that?
“Defensive coordinator.” She said it all prim and proper.
“Why the hell are you answering phones?” She should be in marketing or some other cushy job.
“I do a lot more than just answer the phone.”
Yeah, like take the hit for the asshole quarterback’s bullshit. “What kind of fucked-up family are you from?”
She sighed. “The kind I stay far away from.”
“Except every day when you go to work.” What the fuck?
“I have a different last name. No one knows who I am.”
“Is that on purpose?” I was shocked no one had figured it out.
She shrugged. “It’s how my daddy set it up.”
“And you haven’t asked him why?”
“He passed away five years ago.” She cleared her throat. “Until then, I’d never met Coach… my uncle.”
Jesus, she didn’t even think of him as her uncle. “And no one ever said why?”
She glanced at me. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m sure it’s easy to see black and white from where you’re sitting, but my daddy had just died. I had no one, and he’d told me right before he passed that he’d lined up a job for me. He said to keep my head down, do my work and I’d be taken care of. I wouldn’t have to worry about a roof over my head as long as I stayed a good girl and didn’t go blabbing who I was related to. So that’s what I did.” Her voice went quiet. “For four and a half years.”
Christ. “Until the quarterback.”
“I don’t really think you’re in any position to cast judgment.” She turned toward the window.
“I’m not casting shit.” I fucked women for money. Or I did until last night. I fired up the engine. “Except to say you need a vacation.”
“Coach said not to go anywhere.”
“Do you always do what you’re told?” Just the thought turned me on.
“Yes.”
“Time to change that.” Except where I was concerned. She could take fucking orders from me all day long. I pulled out of the lot.
“I just want to go home.”
I shook my head. “I’m taking you to my condo. Media’s camped out at your place.”
Alarmed, she glanced at me. “At my house?”
“Yeah.” I turned in to traffic. “Neil texted after he dropped your car off.”
“Shit.”
I laughed once. “You do swear.”
“This isn’t funny.” She crossed her arms.
I grabbed her hand. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”
She pulled away. “That’s easy for you to say. Your life hasn’t been turned upside down. You don’t have media stalking you, and you didn’t just lose your job.”
I didn’t say dick. I was bringing a client to my house to shack up, my cock was in a holding pattern and I was probably going to be sued by a professional football team. She was right, I hadn’t lost my job—only my fucking mind.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
“For getting you involved.”
“I told you I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to.” Simple truth, I took orders from no one now, least of all the US government.
“So you said. I know the media is at my place, but can you take me there anyway? I at least need a change of clothes.”
I didn’t want to risk it. “Hold on.” I pulled out my cell and dialed. After three rings, my buddy from the Marines who owned his own personal security firm answered.
Luna laughed. “You’re calling me. Does this mean you’re ready to come work for a living instead of playing with the chicas?”
“No.” But I’d been thinking about it. “I need a favor.”
“Hold up.” I heard a door close and the background noise got quieter. “What’s up?”
“I need you to get some things out of a friend’s house.” I didn’t look at Red when I said friend.
Luna chuckled. “And by friend, you mean a woman.”
“Yeah.”
He sobered. “Domestic?”
“No. Media situation.”
He whistled low. “All right, fess up, who you involved with?”
“I can bring her keys to you.”
“All right, all right, I got it. You can’t talk. Where you at? I’m not at the office.”
I gave him my location. “But her house is in Coral Gables.”
“Okay, meet me at St. Augustus church, back parking lot. You being followed?”
I glanced in my rearview mirror. “Not yet.”
“Seven minutes.” He hung up.
“Who was that?”
“Friend of mine from the Marines. He does personal security.”
“Like a bodyguard?”
“Yeah.” Among other things, but his real skill was with a sniper rifle. “I’m going to have him grab some stuff at your place for you.”
“I can do that myself.”
“This is safer.” She didn’t say anything, but when I glanced at her, she was pressing her lips together. “What?”
“I don’t want some stranger going through my house.”
“He’s a professional.”
She turned in her seat. “And how would you feel if a professional went through your underwear drawer?”
She was barking up the wrong tree if she thought I gave a shit about her privacy versus a mob of cameras in her face. “Not a whole lot of privacy in the military.”
“Point taken.” She turned back to the window.
I drove to the church, and she didn’t say another word. When I pulled into the back parking lot, one of the Luna and Associates black SUVs was already parked. I pulled up to the driver side.
Luna scanned the parking lot as he got out then he shook my hand through the window. “Brandt.” He nodded at Red. “Ma’am.” All business, he looked back at me. “What do you need?”
“Everything she’d need for a week.” He’d figure it out.
“A week?” Red squeaked.
I spared her a glance. “Precautionary. Do you have your house keys or are they with your car keys?”
“I have them separate.” She dug in her purse then handed them to me and looked at Luna. “Can you please water my plants?”
Luna took the keys from me. “Yes, ma’am. Is there an alarm? Any items you specifically need? Medications?”
Red’s cheeks flamed. “I don’t take any medications, thank you. And yes, there is an alarm. The keypad is inside by the front door and the code is one-two-three-four.”
Luna frowned. “Understood. If I may suggest, ma’am, when you return home, reset your passcode to something more secure?”
Red blushed then nodded.
“Thank you. Address?” Luna asked.
Red rattled off her address.
“Copy.” Luna slapped the top of the Mustang and straightened. “Sixty minutes. Your gate security code still the same?”
“Yeah. Don’t drag strays back to my place.” I didn’t need the media on my doorstep.
He scoffed. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
A marine who could smile like an angel one second, then blow your fucking brains out the next. “Patrol.” I didn’t forget the well-earned nickname he’d gotten downrange.
“You know it.” He winked then got in his SUV.
Red watched him drive away. “He had two guns.”
“I know.” A Taurus 9mm on the left side of his waist and a Walther P99 AS in a holster on his right thigh. The fucking scary part? His accuracy was equally deadly, left or right handed.
“I didn’t think bodyguards carried weapons.”
“He does.” Luna didn’t go to the fucking john without being armed. I pulled out of the lot.
Jared drove us to his condo and parked without another word. He opened my car door and put his hand on my back as he led me to the
elevator, but he still didn’t speak. We walked into his condo, and he tossed his bloodied T-shirt he was wearing earlier in the trash in the kitchen.
“You’re throwing that out?” I noticed my car keys on the counter and set my purse down next to them.
“Bloodstains don’t come out,” he stated without emotion.
His muscles were so strong and his body was so perfect, it was hard to imagine him wounded in combat. “Is that something you have experience in?”
“Yes.” He tossed his keys and his wallet on the counter.
I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “How were you wounded?”
He went to the fridge. “Our Humvee was hit by an IED.”
Oh my God. “What happened?”
His hands paused as he pulled two water bottles out of the fridge. It was only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for me to notice it.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I quickly amended.
He held out the bottle of water and met my gaze. “Afghanistan. Second tour. I took shrapnel in the back.”
“You didn’t have any protective gear on?” I thought the military gave all their soldiers protective vests.
“It penetrated my MTV.”
I frowned. “MTV?”
“Modular Tactical Vest. Not the music TV channel.” His half smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You thirsty?”
I took the bottle from his still outstretched hand, and the question popped out before I could stop myself. “Did you feel it? I mean, were you conscious?”
“Yes.”
Of course he felt it. I felt like an idiot for asking. I opened the water and took a sip, looking around his condo. Not a thing was out of place. In fact, it was so neat, it was almost as if no one lived there full-time. No magazines on the coffee table, no dishes out, no shoes by the entrance, not even a single framed picture sat on his built-in bookcases. How could someone not have any books?
“Ask,” he demanded.
I looked back at him. “Excuse me?”
His stance rigid, he tipped his chin. “Ask what you want to ask.”
“You don’t like to read?”
He studied me for a moment. “No. What happened with the quarterback?”
I answered how he answered my questions, with frank honesty. “I wasn’t enough to hold his interest.”
