Devil Within (Bodyguard Incorporated Book 1)

by Kali Argent

  In the far corner stood a plain white, upright freezer, the hum of its motor reverberating off the concrete floor. A green and black mountain bike hung on the wall next to an array of gardening tools. Phoebe’s dark gray Ford Focus occupied the space closest to the door, but the vehicle next to it stole Rayce’s full attention.

  “Wow. This is amazing.” Cherry red with whitewall tires and a chrome bumper, the 1973 Chevrolet El Camino was stunningly gorgeous. “Can I?”

  Smiling, she wiggled her fingers toward the car. “Go ahead.”

  The driver’s door opened without a sound, and the intoxicating scent of new leather enveloped him, making him shiver right down to his toes. The woodgrain across the dash was new, as was the updated stereo designed to mimic the original.

  “I didn’t know you were into classic cars,” he called as he slid the seat back and settled in behind the wheel.

  “I’m not,” Phoebe answered, coming to stand next to the open door. “This is where I used to live. Well, back when it was rusted and dented, and the seats were faded and cracked.”

  Rayce didn’t know what to say. He’d heard her speech at the Frost Gala, knew she’d been homeless for a time, but sitting in the actual car she’d lived in on the street was surreal.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Obviously, I’ve given her a facelift since then, but it’s still the same car underneath.”

  “Why did you keep it?” He imagined she had a lot of painful memories associated with the vehicle, and he couldn’t imagine why she’d want that reminder sitting in her garage.

  “To remind me where I came from, and how hard I fought to get to where I am.” With a loving smile, she skimmed her fingertips over the glossy paint at the top of the door. “Not just the money or the nice house in the suburbs, but also how far I’ve come as a person. It took a long time to find myself, and I won’t ever let anyone take that away from me again.”

  Stepping out of the car, Rayce stood directly in front of Phoebe and carefully wound his arm around her waist, tugging her closer. “You are strong and brave and incredible in every way. You know exactly who you are, exactly who you want to be, and you’re not ever going to lose that.”

  She chewed her bottom lip while she played with a loose string near his collar. “I completely freaked out tonight.”

  “Rightfully so.”

  “Really?” Finally, she looked up at him, a shallow valley forming between her eyebrows. “Someone left a rose on my deck. That’s not exactly threatening, and I couldn’t call you fast enough.”

  “Threatening or not, someone was here. He could have followed us tonight. Maybe he’s been watching you for a few days now.” Someone was stalking her, and for some crazy reason, she thought she should have been able to handle the situation on her own. “Asking for help doesn’t make you weak, sugar, and it doesn’t change who you are.”

  “In that case…”

  “What is it? You can ask me anything.”

  “Would you stay for a little bit longer?” Her gaze fell to somewhere around his chest. “I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

  “Whatever you need.” Honestly, he was glad she’d been the one to bring it up, because he hadn’t wanted to leave her alone after what had happened. “How about that movie we never got to watch?”

  He hadn’t wanted to scare her, but he’d seen this kind of thing before. It always started innocent enough, but it never stayed that way for long. Whoever had left that rose on her deck had been watching her, Rayce was sure of it, and he knew better than to think it would end with a simple flower.

  “I could make popcorn.” The harsh lighting in the garage glinted off the moisture on her bottom lip as she peeked up at him through her long, dark lashes. “Maybe some hot chocolate?”

  “Oh, well, how can I possibly say no to that?”

  “Good, because I thought I was going to have to bribe you with the tiramisu, and I so didn’t want to share that.”

  The tension ebbed with their laughter, and they playfully debated who should get the dessert as they headed back into the house. Rayce insisted it should be his since he’d paid for it. Phoebe, however, reminded him that he’d promised her “all the chocolate.” In the end, she’d won, because frankly, she was just too damn cute for him to keep up the pretense of a disagreement.

  In the kitchen, Phoebe removed a small saucepot from the cabinet and placed it on the gas stove. “Popcorn is in the pantry.” She pointed to a set of double doors with faux knobs. “I’ll warm the milk for the cocoa, if you’ll make the popcorn.”

  “Probably best,” Rayce answered as he scanned the pantry’s contents for the popcorn. “We don’t want you to set the kitchen on fire again.”

  “Hey!” She stopped in front of the refrigerator and folded her arms over her breasts. A heartbeat later, her expression cleared and she shrugged. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

  Five minutes later, Rayce stood at the counter, staring down at a singed bag of black and smoking popcorn. “This is Karma, isn’t it?”

  Still stirring the milk in the saucepan, Phoebe snorted. “Yes, sir. That’s what you get for being a dick.” She hummed an unfamiliar tune under her breath as she opened two envelopes of powdered chocolate and dumped the contents into a pair of black mugs. “Here. Come stir the cocoa, and I’ll make the popcorn.”

  “Easy, woman, I’ve got this.”

  He burned two more bags before he finally got it right. Hell, he almost burned the last bag on purpose, just to hear her laugh again.

  Before they moved to the living room, he applied more ointment to her burns, taking extra care with the mark on the top of her breast. The skin was still red and warm to the touch, but it hadn’t blistered yet. Hopefully, it wouldn’t.

  When they finally made it to the sofa, he dropped down on one end, sitting first to give her options. If she wanted space, he’d give it to her. No pressure. No expectations.

  She cuddled up right beside him, remote in hand, popcorn in her lap. “Is this okay?”

  “More than,” he answered, curling his arm around her shoulders. “What are we watching?”

  “Something funny. You’ll like it.”

  Probably, he would have liked it, if he’d been paying attention to it. He glanced up often enough to know it was something about treasure hunting and boat salvaging, but he couldn’t have said more than that. The scent of her floral shampoo made his head swim, and the feel of her warmth pressed against his side had his body buzzing. Every time she giggled at something happening on the television, he felt a tightening in his stomach that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  Thinking back, he couldn’t remember a time that he’d ever felt the way he did when he was with Phoebe. They’d been out once, and already, he found himself mentally rearranging his life and his priorities, not just to make room for her, but to place her on a pedestal above everything else.

  He’d driven like a madman to get back to her when she’d called him, running two red lights and a stop sign in his anxiousness while what-if scenarios played through his head. What if he hadn’t been just minutes down the street? What if someone had tried to come into her house instead of leaving a seemingly benign gift on the deck?

  In his line of work, he’d seen it all, every tragedy, every unhappy ending, and he wouldn’t let that happen to Phoebe. He couldn’t.

  Whatever it took, he’d find a way to keep her safe. If she’d just give him the chance, he’d slay her dragons and fight her demons—both external forces and the devil within. Every day, he’d remind her how amazing she was, how beautiful and strong, brave and kind. If she gave him the chance, he could make her happy.

  But he was getting way ahead of himself. They hadn’t even shared a real kiss yet.

  Emerging from his thoughts, he realized he hadn’t heard her laugh in a while. Checking the television, he confirmed the movie was still playing, but Phoebe had clearly succumbed to the emotional exhaustion of the night.
Her head rested heavily on his shoulder, her body turned just slightly and curled into him. She snored. It was too adorable to be annoying, but he decided not to tell her anyway. No doubt she’d be embarrassed. Women were funny about things like that.

  Not wanting to disturb her, he sat in the same position for the next hour, not moving, barely breathing, just watching the moonlight gleam off the rain that pattered over the deck. When his right leg fell asleep and his lower back began to ache, he finally had no choice. Shifting out from beneath her, he carefully lowered her to the cushions and tucked a fluffy, faux-fur throw pillow under her head.

  He stretched, pushing his hands over his head and twisting one way, then the other. Circulation returned to his leg, setting his foot afire with uncomfortable pinpricks that made him grimace. The discomfort subsided after a few seconds of pacing, and he returned to the sofa to cover Phoebe with white, fleece throw blanket dotted in blue stars.

  Then he brushed the golden strands of hair away from her face and waited a few more minutes to make sure he wouldn’t disturb her. Confident that she was warm, comfortable, and deeply asleep, he walked over to the patio doors, slid one open in exaggeratedly slow increments so as not to make any noise, then stepped out into the falling rain.

  The footprints were now nothing more than misshapen piles of mud, and further inspection revealed nothing significant at the bottom of the stairs or around the side of the house. Whether planned or just a stroke of luck for the stalker, the rain had washed away any evidence that might lead him to a suspect.

  The privacy fence that surrounded her backyard looked to be in good condition, with no cracks or loose boards. She didn’t have a lock on her gate, though, something he’d have to remedy soon. Phoebe’s lackluster security measures were going to be the death of him.

  Back on the deck, he crouched down in front the doors and pinched the stem of the rose between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the light to examine it. Unfortunately, he didn’t know anything about flowers, and he saw nothing special about this one. It could have come from a private garden, a florist, or some grocery store flower department.

  Either way, he didn’t want Phoebe to wake up to the reminder come morning, so he carried around the wet and mangled rose to the side of the house and buried in her trash bin. This wouldn’t be the last they saw of her creepy admirer. He knew better than to hope that if they simply ignored his advances he’d get bored and move on to some new obsession. Until he made his next move, though, all Rayce could do was wait, watch, and hope things didn’t turn violent.

  Returning to the house, he pulled the sliding door closed, shaking his head as he turned the knob on the flimsy lock. He still needed to send someone out to better secure those doors.

  Next, he went through the house, checking all the windows and other entry points. Once satisfied, he armed her security system, retrieved the television remote, and settled down on the far end of the sofa. He should be going. It was a long drive back to Dallas, and he had work in the morning, not to mention the drive out to the Lowen estate the next evening. Then he thought about Phoebe waking up in the middle of the night, alone and scared, and none of that matter anymore.

  He could stay a little longer. A few more minutes.

  Just in case she needed him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Judging by the mount of light spilling into the living room, Phoebe guessed it to be mid-morning by the time she dragged her eyes open. A moment of disorientation followed when she found herself on the sofa, and she didn’t remember how she’d gotten there at first. Then the details of the previous night came rushing back, both the good and the bad, and she jerked upright, clutching her fleece blanket to her chest.

  “What?” What is it? What’s wrong?” Rayce was on his feet, spinning in circles, his messy hair whipping around his face.

  Phoebe couldn’t help but laugh. “Everything is fine. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. I was just resting my eyes.” He shoved his fingers through his hair and blinked repeatedly, squinting across the brightly lit room. “What time is it?”

  Twisting around, she looked over her shoulder to read the digital display on the microwave in the kitchen. “A little after nine.”

  “Shit.”

  “Are you late for work?”

  “No, it’s not that. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “I thought you were just resting your eyes?”

  “Don’t be smart,” he grumbled. “It’s too early. I need coffee.”

  “Oh, I’m good at coffee.” Jumping up from the sofa, she yawned widely as she shuffled into the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

  “Just coffee,” he answered around a yawn of his own. “I meant to be gone before you woke up, but I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

  “Well, I’m glad you stayed.” The events during the night had rattled her more than she’d cared to admit, but Rayce had made her feel safe. “Did anything happen after I fell asleep?”

  Before he could answer, the doorbell rang, it’s chime overly loud in the quietness of the morning. Stiffening, Rayce’s right hand went to his hip, as if reaching for a gun. Once his brain caught up with his actions, he cursed under his breath and angled toward the front door.

  “Are you expecting anyone?”

  Phoebe thought quickly and shook her head. “Nope, no one.”

  “Stay there.”

  She doubted a deranged madman would walk up to her house and ring her doorbell in broad daylight if he intended to attack her, but she said nothing and returned to the task of making coffee. The front door creaked a little when it opened, and the feminine yelp that followed made her smile.

  “Who the hell are you?” Elena demanded from the front porch.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Rayce shot back.

  “Where’s Phoebe?” another masculine voice demanded.

  “Who’s asking?”

  Feeling the situation escalating, Phoebe flipped the switch on the coffee maker and hurried to join everyone at the front door before someone ended up bloody. Funny enough, she couldn’t have said whether Rayce or Elena would be the one to throw the first punch. Both had the temperament for it.

  “Okay, everyone stop.” Grabbing Rayce by the elbow, she pulled hard when he refused to vacate the doorway. “Rayce, stop. This is my best friend, Elena Freeman, and her brother, Jonas. They’re not here to murder me.”

  Rayce moved away from the door to let her friends enter, but he didn’t relax.

  “So, this is Rayce.” Crossing the threshold, Elena circled, looking him over like a prized calf at the county fair. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Rayce nodded. “Same.” His gaze flickered to Jonas, and the muscle in his jaw ticked. “You, not so much.”

  “Be nice,” Phoebe hissed under her breath. “Rayce, this is Jonas Freeman. Jonas, Rayce Hawkins.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Jonas smiled and offered his hand, but dropped it awkwardly when Rayce just glared at him. “We’re on our way to the outlet mall for the day,” he added, shifting his focus to Phoebe. “We thought we’d drop by and see if you wanted to join us, but that was obviously before we knew you had company.”

  “Already spending the night,” Elena interjected, her tone disapproving. “You move fast.”

  “Okay!” Lifting her voice, Phoebe clapped her hands together and backed away. “Who wants coffee?”

  “I’ll help you,” Jonas offered, sliding between Rayce and his sister to join her. “I really am sorry, Phoebe,” he added when they’d reached the kitchen. “I told Elena we should have called first.”

  “It’s fine, really.” Grunting, Phoebe stretched up on her tiptoes and wiggled her fingers, trying to reach the extra coffee mugs on the top shelf.

  “Here, let me get that.”

  Only, he didn’t wait for her to move before rushing over to help. Standing behind her, he reached over her head, blanketing her back and trapping her between his
lean body and the counter. The encounter lasted only a few seconds, and while kind of weird, she didn’t think much of it until she turned around to find both Rayce and Elena staring at her.

  “I’m short,” she blurted, as if that explained everything. “Coffee?”

  “Actually, I need to be going, sugar.”

  “Oh, right.” She didn’t want Rayce to leave, but she also didn’t want him to lose his job. “Are we still on for next Tuesday?”

  “Absolutely.” The hard expression he’d worn since Elena and Jonas had entered the house finally melted, and his lips stretched into a crooked, cocky smirk. “I look forward to it.”

  Clearly uncaring of their audience, he strode past the island and hooked his arm around Phoebe’s middle, pulling her into a tight embrace. Then he cupped her cheek, cradling it gently in his palm, and bent to capture her mouth in a slow, easy kiss. His tongue traced her lips, tickling the seam until she opened for him with an involuntary sigh.

  The kiss didn’t last long, not nearly as long as she would have liked, but she still felt lightheaded and a little drunk when he pulled away.

  “If anything else happens,” he said, still holding her close, “you call me. Got it? I don’t care what time it is. I don’t care if you think it’s silly. Call me.”

  “Wait. What?” Elena took a step forward, her brow furrowed as her gaze darted between Rayce and Phoebe. “What does he mean? What happened?”

  “Just some creep trying to scare me.” She didn’t want to rehash all the details, but she could see from the look on Elena’s face her vague explanation wasn’t going to cut it. “After Rayce left last night, I heard something on the back deck. Someone had left muddy footprints and a white rose.”

  Elena frowned. “Did you see anyone?”

  “Nope, but I called Rayce. He turned around and came back, then the police came, and long story short, it was weird and creepy, but there’s not much anyone can do about it.”