Fierce Protector: Hard to Handle trilogy, Book 1

by Kane, Janine

  Eva smiled prettily and nodded in surprised appreciation of such a combative evening. “The skills on display were amazing,” she said. “It seemed like a mix of ballet and boxing.”

  Mark laughed the hardest, replying, “You won’t get far comparing these guys to ballet dancers, but I guess you have a point,” he conceded, receiving a fresh beer from Zack. “I think of it as an exercise in controlled brutality.”

  Brandon snorted. “There ain’t much that’s controlled about ZackAttack here, now is there? Damn near beat me into the ground.”

  “But Brandon won, right?” asked the curly blonde who was clearly on a mission to explore Brandon’s pants.

  “Zack withdrew,” explained Mark.

  “So is that really a win?” she persisted.

  “Little lady,” began Mark, “do you know what happens when a large explosion goes off a few meters from you?” She shook her head, cowed by this giant, who had perhaps eighteen inches on her. “There’s this very awkward piece of physics called a pressure wave,” he explained, his hands mimicking the expanding shockwave of hot, high-pressure air which radiated from the blast site. “It’ll knock you straight off your feet, maybe throw you through the air.”

  “Like in the movies,” the brunette confirmed.

  All three men laughed. “Something like that,” agreed Mark, unwilling to be rude to two women at once. “Well, it forces this high-pressure air into your lungs, and they really don’t like that.”

  “Is it like what scuba divers get when they come up too fast?” Brandon asked.

  Zack took over. “Similar, but that’s more of an over-expansion problem. This was just like the inside of my lungs got hit with a whole bag of hammers.”

  “Causes contusions,” Mark added.

  “That sounds horrible,” the blonde admitted. “I’m sorry that happened.”

  Zack handed her a beer. “It’s OK. The docs out there are just the best in the world, and here I am.” They all clinked bottles to celebrate the fact.

  The brunette had begun, none too shyly, to take a fancy to Mark, so Zack judged this the best moment to excuse himself and give Eva the ‘dime tour’. “Thanks for coming over,” he said. “I hope there aren’t too many new people.” He showed her the layout, taking pride in the renovations he had done, and then gave her a quick tour of the photos which lined one wall of the living room. “These are mostly from my Navy days,” he explained. “That’s my graduating class at the end of Hell Week.”

  “Sounds tough. Is that basic training?”

  “Sort of. It really weeds out those who shouldn’t have applied. Only about 60% of this group actually made it to be SEALs.” And eight of them are dead, he didn’t say. “There’s my buddy Grayson,” he said, pointing out a tired, stocky guy with the same military-grade haircut as the others. “He’s DEA, now. A lot of them are still in the service, but the ones who leave are mostly security people, consultants, or cops. It’s almost a tradition. Grayson’s probably doing more good for the world now than when he was a SEAL,” Zack added wryly, hiding the true depths of his disenchantment.

  Eva glanced to her right to find two of the groupies glaring at her from the corner. Zack noticed and simply steered away as if they weren’t there. “How about one more beer?” he offered. “Or are you driving?”

  “I am, I guess,” Eva replied. “And I have a 5.30 shift at Cheryl’s tomorrow. Would you forgive me if I hit the road?”

  The moment to which she had been looking forward finally arrived, as Zack held out his arms and invited her in for a hug. Oh God, the whole freakin’ room is watching, her mind yelled as the warm strength of his arms gathered her to his torso. She didn’t hesitate, pressing her breasts against Zack’s body, letting him feel them, albeit clothed, while her arms wrapped around him. It took only a few seconds but it left her nearly breathless, her nipples instantly hard, her stomach fluttering, the need within her body awakened and, yet again, unquenched. As she made to pull away, she felt a slight kiss on her left cheek and made sure her lips brushed his skin as they began to separate. An inch from his mouth. Their eyes met for a second, smiling and unmistakably lustful.

  Her mouth dry, Eva bid him goodnight and found Trish, which was easier because she had been watching Eva’s every move. “You go ahead, hun. We’re going to hit a bar in town with a few people. Don’t wait up.”

  Eva made it to her car on jellied legs and took five deep breaths before starting the engine. All those women, with their big boobs and their pierced navels showing and their toxic perfume, and it’s me who gets the goodbye hug. Her focus switched alarmingly between her driving and the limitless possibilities of their having been alone in his house, the certainty that their hug would have developed into a kiss, which would have meant clothes hitting the floor, tongues exploring each other, hands sliding down into jeans which hid delicious hardness.

  ***

  There was a car in her parking place, she found to her annoyance. Then she saw that someone was standing on the stoop outside of Trish’s place. With a stab of fear in her gut, she recognized immediately the profile of her brother. He was smiling slightly, squinting at her headlights as she parked. You have got to be fucking kidding me.

  “Hey, Sis,” he said with entirely inappropriate brightness in his voice. “Told you it was time for a visit. How are you?” Eva slammed her car door almost as hard as she could, and simply stood there. “I really was hoping you’d be pleased to see your own brother,” he added optimistically.

  “I know why you’re here,” she said angrily. “What I want to know is, how did you know where I was staying?”

  Hank walked the few steps to the garden gate and opened it, ostensibly for Eva, although she still didn’t move. “Trish’s father was very helpful,” he confessed. “I had to, Evie, I really had no choice but to come here.”

  Anger boiled in her gut like bad chili. “You need to get back in your car and drive away,” she said steadily, somehow hoping her clarity might convince him. “I can’t help you.”

  “I think that you can, and I think that you should,” Hank replied, matter-of-factly.

  “You need money, right?” He nodded slightly. “I work in a bakery, part-time. Most of my savings went on gas for this piece of junk,” she tapped the Pontiac, “which was my only way to get away from all the crap you created in Chicago. I don’t have two dimes to rub together.”

  Hank stepped forward again, leaning now on the garden gate. “But you know people who do.”

  “Leave my friends out of this,” she warned. “If you come near them . . .”

  “What? You’ll have me arrested?” he sniggered. “Great, go ahead. Jail would be the safest place for me, at least until one of Vincent’s men finds me on the inside and sticks a shank in my back.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was supposed to deliver something,” he explained. “I was shaken down and I lost the package.” His delicate choice of words did nothing to soothe Eva’s exploding temper. “Vincent says I’m responsible for the package, and for the money I was meant to collect.”

  “So, you’re responsible,” she said dispassionately. “Get a job.”

  “It’s thousands, Evie. More than a construction worker makes in six months.” He fell to his knees. “Do you want me to beg? I’ll beg.”

  “Get the hell out of my life!” she yelled at the top of her voice. “You’re a fucking parasite. I never want to see you again.”

  Hank rose with a sudden swiftness, turned slightly and then landed a hard, driven punch across Eva’s left cheek. “You call me that, you bitch, when you’re sponging off your friends! When you’re driving my car!” He spat on the ground by her feet. “I knew you didn’t really care. I knew you’d rather I were dead in some ditch with a bullet in my brain. You’d do anything to get rid of me, just like the others.”

  Eva’s world was vibrating with a sickening pulse, back and forth. She tasted blood. Her arm had caught under her as she awkwa
rdly landed on the sidewalk, and the other arm refused to push at the ground with enough force to lift her. She was certain he would kick her to death, right here. Readying herself for the blows, she squeezed her eyes shut and tensed her stomach, bringing her knees up in a reflexive gesture of self-protection.

  There was nothing. She heard only an engine starting, and then Hank roared, squealing, out of the neighborhood and into the night.

  ***

  Most of his lights were off now, she saw. There was only his Mercedes parked outside; the others must already have left. She tried turning on her cellphone again, but it only managed to bring up the menu page before the battery gave out. She still would not have called the cops, she knew. Hank might have joked about being safer in jail, but really, when was that ever true? Having the cops looking for him, as well as some crazed gangsters, might just push him over the edge. Eva knew she would not be able to live with that.

  Her first thought had been simply to wait for Tyler and Trish to come home, but within moments she knew that she had to keep them out of it; if Hank was truly in debt to dangerous people, then the fewer of her friends who became involved, the better. She didn’t know if Tyler owned a gun, although in these parts, it was likely, and dragging those lovely people into this mess would be harsh repayment for their kindness.

  The same was true of her new neighbors and friends. How could she bring violence and the unwelcome glare of media attention to a town which had welcomed her so warmly? She’d be unable to show her face at Cheryl’s ever again, another young girl with a foggy past and insalubrious connections who left suddenly and under strange circumstances.

  No, there was only one real option.

  What made the decision for her, in many ways, was not simply who he was, but who he knew. One of her first thoughts had been of Zack’s friend in the photo from ‘Hell Week’, their grueling SEAL training. Hadn’t Zack mentioned that he was now in the DEA? It was a long shot, but she felt that this might be a way to help Hank, maybe even find the gang before they hurt him, and keep this whole mess out of the public eye.

  Then there was Zack himself. Honest, mature, incredibly strong. The only man in her life who could help her, even if he was her newest friend. She had no choice but to depend on him.

  Eva dried her face with her sleeve, instantly regretting it as she saw the smear of blood. It was hardly how she would have chosen to appear to Zack at 1.30am, disheveled and bleeding, rather than draped in gorgeous lingerie and smelling of sandalwood and sex. But there was nothing she could do, she reflected yet again as she knocked gingerly on his door.

  After a few seconds, it opened and Zack greeted her with a surprised grin which quickly disappeared as she stepped forward into the light. “Eva? My God, what’s happened?” He ushered her into the house, instinctively checking left and right out of his door to see if she had been followed. “Are you OK?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just didn’t know where to go. Trish and Tyler went to a bar somewhere and I knew they’d be a bit drunk and it’s late,” she rambled, trying not to cry but failing. Zack sat her down on the living room sofa, and then moved efficiently around the house, grabbing his first aid kid from under the sink, and a fresh t-shirt to replace the stained blouse Eva had arrived in.

  “You need to tell me what happened,” he said gently, sitting on the sofa next to the crying, injured girl, “just as soon as you’re ready. I need to know who hit you.”

  She sniffed. “I’m so sorry, Zack,” she said again, “I really don’t want to get you involved.” Her head was crowded with confused thoughts; she began to regret imposing on this caring man. “I should go.”

  “No,” he said with a certain firmness, “you need to sit there and tell me what happened.” He gently held her hand. “Take your time.”

  She breathed deeply and regained some of her composure. Zack worked on cleaning the wound and smeared on a little antiseptic ointment, making Eva wince. “It’s not that he’s a bad guy, he’s just made a bunch of bad choices,” she explained. “And now he’s in deep trouble. He seems to think they’re going to kill him if he doesn’t come up with the money.”

  Zack applied a blue cold-pack to her face. “Go back a few steps, Eva. Who is ‘he’ and who is ‘they’?”

  “My brother, Hank. He’s been getting himself involved in the wrong kind of business since he was a teenager. I don’t know how he stayed out of jail,” she said. “He’s depended on me more than I care to admit. Without me, I don’t know where he’d be.”

  “What kind of business?”

  She was quiet for a moment, terrified as to how Zack would react. “Drugs,” she said quietly. “I don’t think he uses them much,” Eva added honestly, “but he’s been moving things around for drugs people.”

  “Guns?” Zack asked immediately, assessing the level of the threat.

  “No, no,” she insisted, “he’s not violent.” Zack gave her a look. “Well, not normally.”

  Zack brought out another cold pack to replace the first one. “So he’s a courier?”

  “Something like that. They use him for fairly simple jobs and I guess he was given something to do and screwed it up.”

  “Was he caught by the cops?” asked Zack, doing his best to follow closely, despite the late mind and the tiring evening.

  “He lost the ‘package’,” she said using hand quotes. “And some money. They’re really pissed with him. And he thinks they’re really serious people, the kind who would just . . .” She held a finger to her temple in an unmistakable gesture.

  “He can’t just go to the cops? They’d protect him.”

  Eva shook her head. “They have cops on their payroll. It wouldn’t be any use, and then they’d kill him anyway for trying to snitch on them.”

  Zack removed the ice pack and took a close look at Eva’s face. “Sounds like an impossible situation.” She nodded, winced slightly as he pressed the swollen skin under her eye. “I’d take a number and get in the line to beat him up, but I guess he’s got enough trouble right now. You’ve got to admit, though . . . hitting his sister is pretty damned low.”

  “I’m not going to argue with that,” she said through the pain.

  Zack reflected on the situation, willing his tired brain to analyze it, to step back and see the larger picture; and to ignore the emotions – Eva’s and his own – which swirled confusingly around the few facts. “I mean, does he really think you’re hiding a pile of cash under your bed?”

  “I know,” she smirked, “it’s kinda ridiculous, right? I mean, Cheryl’s a great boss but it ain’t that far above minimum wage, and all my savings went into fixing up the car and getting out of Illinois.”

  Zack returned to holding her hand, something she found profoundly reassuring. “Did you have to leave because of what Hank was in to?”

  “It was partly that, partly some other things,” she said.

  Zack didn’t press further. “Well, my priority is to keep you safe,” he said. “There’s nobody going to hurt you. Do you understand?”

  She squeezed his large, warm hand between hers and smiled at him, her first since arriving. “Thank you so much, Zack.” Relaxing a little, Eva then remembered her friends with a start. “Would you text Trish or Tyler and let them know I’m OK?”

  “Want me to tell them you’re at my place?” he asked, sensitive to how that would be seen.

  Eva thought for two seconds, then imagined how Trish would smile about it. “Sure. Leave out the details though, OK? I’m trying to keep them out of it. We’ll just say I braked suddenly to avoid a rabbit and whacked my head.”

  Zack eyed her skeptically but brought out his phone and sent the message. “There’s a friend I’d like to call, in the morning. I think he’ll be able to help.”

  “Your SEAL buddy at the DEA?” she said.

  Zack laughed. “So you were paying attention.” Eva nodded, filled with yet more admiration for this caring half-stranger and happy for any support. “It’s
late, and I guess you’re exhausted.” He was going to say beat, but it hardly seemed appropriate. “I’ll take this couch. Why don’t you shower and then take my room?”

  He helped her up and walked her to the bathroom, less unsteadily than before. “Lock the door if you want to,” he said, handing her a towel. “And shake me if you need anything, OK?” He returned to the sofa and started arranging the cushions.

  “Zack?” He turned. “Thanks for everything. I . . . I hardly know you but you’ve been so kind.”

  “Think nothing of it,” he said, closing the living room curtains and turning on a side light. “Just relax. You couldn’t be safer.”

  Chapter 6 – Kingpin

  San Antonio, TX

  Saturday night

  When a man achieves notoriety, Vincent reflected, there was no longer the need to chase down those who owed him. A pile of cash the size of a microwave oven sat on a battered wooden table in the center of a cavernous, echoing warehouse building. The only sounds were the retreating footsteps of the two lackeys who had brought Vincent today’s winnings; betting against the Rangers used to feel disloyal, but now it was merely good business practice. He could have had one of his men count the cash, but there was hardly any need. His reputation already cemented by a series of violent reprisals and territorial acquisitions, Vincent knew that a small gambling syndicate would never be dumb enough to short-change him. He lit a cigar and put his feet on the table, relaxing in an ancient, but still magnificently comfortable office chair.

  “Jesus, Vincent,” came a voice. “Did they used to assemble moon rockets in here, or something?” Curt was the square-jawed muscle man of the San Antonio operation and, despite Vincent’s efforts, still saw fit to express an opinion on almost everything. “This place is huge!”

  Vincent remained seated as the younger, decidedly more brutish man approached the table and took one of the wooden chairs opposite his boss. A severe haircut had left him with a shock of graying hair which barely covered his scalp, and within his black, leather jacket, Vincent was certain, lurked at least two firearms. But Curt was easily controlled, easily manipulated. And Vincent knew just how.