Deep (Raw Heroes Book 4)

by S. R. Jones

  Yep, not my type, but arresting nonetheless.

  I once read that a man never meets a woman without assessing whether he’d fuck her or not, and I realize I’ve done that to the person I’ve been assigned to protect. I drag my mind out of the gutter, and away from busty blondes, and get into professional mode.

  The two women head on over, and Gina reaches out to shake my hand with a flash of a grin. “Reece.”

  “Gina. Nice to see you again.”

  “This is Kate.”

  The other woman holds her hand out, too. I take it and give a brief shake, not some bone crushing show of manly strength that only weak men seem to feel the need to do, but a simple grab and release.

  They sit opposite me.

  “So, you’re going to take over from today.” Gina takes out a diary. “I feel awful having to leave Kate in the lurch like this, but I’ve told her she’s going to be in very capable hands. The threat is very real, this guy’s a fucking lunatic. Police think he’s behind a fair few rapes and even a couple of murders.”

  I see Kate flinch at Gina’s casual words.

  “I read the files,” I say. I turn to Kate. “I’m so sorry this asshole has found you again, but believe me, I will do everything in my power to make sure he doesn’t get to you, and to find out who he is.”

  She raises her gaze to me and there’s surprise there.

  Green with flecks of gold, I think as I stare into her stunning eyes. For a moment, I’m lost in them. I’ve never seen such beautiful eyes before.

  “Find out who he is?” Her words bring me back to the moment.

  Her voice is such a contrast to her appearance. It’s smoky and husky and a little bit worn, as if overused…or not used often enough. It’s a voice made for sinful whispers in the dead of night. She could narrate erotic audiobooks and make a fortune.

  “I’ll try my best,” I promise.

  “The police have been looking for him for years. They don’t even know if it is definitely the same man. They’ve deduced it is from a profile, but he doesn’t leave any concrete evidence. He’s good at what he does, at hiding his identity and covering up.” She casts her eyes back down, but not before I see the dismay there, a tinge of hopelessness that I suddenly want to erase.

  “Reece here used to work special forces and also…some intelligence bits and bobs.” Gina gives me a sly smile. She knows some of the shit I used to do. Gina did some of it as well. Infiltrating deep into foreign governments or organizations, by fair means or foul.

  “He’s an expert hacker, and if anyone can follow this bastard’s online trail, Reece can.”

  “If he even leaves an online trail, which is doubtful because all the stuff he’s sent me has been old fashioned paper. Why don’t the police have people like you working for them?” Kate asks a damn good question.

  “They do have special teams, but they don’t have the money or resources to use them widely, plus…there’s the legalities to consider. I don’t have to worry about those.”

  “But if you break the law to find him, then he won’t be convicted, will he?”

  “We can worry about those things later,” Gina butts in. “Reece won’t do anything to compromise stopping this arsewipe.”

  I don’t bother to tell Kate that my plan isn’t for this dick to go to jail, but for me to give his information to a group of people who won’t take kindly to a raping murdering bastard, and will sort him out themselves. My Ukrainian friend, Andrius, would make, probably literal mincemeat of him.

  I note Gina glance at her watch, and I’m keen to get going, too. Get Kate out of the public glare of this pub, small and cozy at it may be.

  “I’m nipping to the gents, and then we can get out of here,” I tell Kate.

  I see Kate shoot a glance at Gina before nodding, the frown divot deepening.

  Great, I think Liam might be right and she hates me on sight.

  Chapter Two

  Kate

  “Oh, my God!” I turn to Gina as soon as The Hulk is out of earshot. “You cannot leave me with him. No. I mean...I won’t feel comfortable.”

  She shoots me a look that’s an odd mix of kindness and exasperation. The expression I suspect many a parent has when looking at their child who fears monsters under the bed or other made up terrors. Except my terrors are real, and now Gina expects me, someone who finds men intimidating at the best of times since my stalker, to cozy up and share my space with a giant of a man.

  “What’s wrong with him? Trust me, I know he looks a bit…hippy-dippy, but he’s extremely well trained, and highly competent.”

  “He doesn’t look hippy-dippy. He looks…like the Hulk grew his hair, stopped being green and got all…hot.”

  My face heats but I push on. “Have you seen him, Gina? He’s…hot. I can’t be guarded day and night by him.”

  Her mouth literally drops open. “Oh…I mean, I thought your problem would be with him being too casual or something. You think he’s hot?” Then she cracks a grin. “That’s good, Kate. You told me yourself you’ve not had…you know…those feelings for ages.”

  She’s doing some weird winking thing and she looks like a Monty Python sketch. We’ve had a few long, slightly drunken, on my part at least, chats at night, and become kind-of friends. During one of those chats, I admitted that the worst thing about being targeted by a crazy sex-maniac stalker is that it kind of dampens your libido somewhat.

  “Not that you should do anything about it—because Reece, he’s here in a professional capacity. He wouldn’t anyway, so you don’t have to worry—but have a little crush on him. Spy on him in the shower.” She cackles at her own joke, but I don’t. I think my stalker spied on me, so the idea leaves me cold.

  I could do the crush part quite easily though. He’s gorgeous. I mean, truly gorgeous. With his blonde hair, warm eyes, blinding smile, and that body. Oh lord, his body. It’s outrageous. He reminds me of the guy who plays Thor, only better looking. Seriously, that’s how hot he is. I can’t have him in my little safe house, smoldering away in the corner as I sit wracked by unrequited lust.

  Then I think about the current book I’m working on. In this one, my lead character, a female detective who has a dark past and solves a never-ending series of grisly crimes, is supposed to be finally getting together with the hard-nosed Private Investigator she keeps running into. My publishers have been pushing for it from three books back, and I’ve resisted, but they’re growing insistent. The fans want it.

  I can’t write it.

  I’ve got no sex drive, at all. Or haven’t for the longest time, ever since I read the reports of what my stalker did to some of his suspected victims. At that moment in time it was as if some weird switch got turned off on my otherwise healthy sex drive and turned it to closed in an instant.

  It’s not completely gone as I often have unbearably erotic dreams and I’ve woken up coming before, gasping against my pillow, but in the cold light of day, when I’m thoroughly awake and my rational brain is online, I can’t seem to get the urge.

  Now, my lizard brain is doing a happy dance. She’s saying, yeah, here’s a guy to finally get the juices flowing. My rational brain is terrified I’ll make an utter fool of myself sharing space with the stunning specimen of manhood pretending to be a mere human being. Surely, he’s at least half-god or something. Like some demi-god son of Zeus or some such.

  Gina is watching me with a half-smile flirting about her face. “Listen,” she leans in close. “Reece is professional, he’s not going to do anything to make you uncomfortable. But I get he’s gorgeous. So…enjoy it. You’ve got to write the love story stuff, right? Use him as your muse. It’s going to be warm, but tell him you need some firewood chopping and hope he takes his shirt off.” She laughs.

  “Oh, you’re loving this, aren’t you? You crack yourself up. Did you plan this?”

  She sobers instantly. “Don’t be silly. There are other teams I can call. If you want me to? I called these guys because I worked with
them before. They are hard bastards, all of them. Trained to the hilt. To be honest, Reece is probably the best out of the bunch for this job because the other three all need a personality overhaul. Liam and Ethan in particular. Oh, and if you think Reece is hot, thank the Lord you don’t have Luka looking over you.”

  I raise an eyebrow. She glances behind her, in the direction of the toilets, then swipes at her phone a moment before holding up a picture of a guy with dark hair, sad eyes, and a face so gorgeous he could have been a movie heart throb.

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Yeah. He’s lovely,” she sighs. “But he’s loved up now, so he’s off the market. Listen, you’re in safe hands. The best. But if you can’t bear the hotness that is one Reece Trent then I will call him off and get another team put into place.”

  I think about what she’s saying, and I know it would be ridiculous to take someone less well trained to protect me simply because they weren’t hot. I mean, what does that say about me? Imagine if a man sacked a woman because she was too sexy? I’d be horrified. It’s not Reece’s fault he looks like someone made my dream man come to life from clay and spun gold. Nope, that’s all on me, and I need to handle it.

  Sighing, I nod at her because I know she’s damn well right. “No. Don’t do that. It’s my issue. I’ll have to woman up and deal with it.”

  She glances around and from her sudden, smooth smile, I guess Reece is heading back our way and lift my gaze to see him sauntering toward us.

  He reaches into the pocket of his dark jeans, and I try not to notice the way they cling to his thighs, and pulls out a set of keys, swinging them around one long finger.

  “Shall we?” he asks me in his deep, smooth voice.

  My stomach does this odd little flutter. The sort of thing I’ve not felt in years, maybe decades. I smile, glance one more time at the safety net that is Gina, then gather up my bag, and with butterflies rioting in my stomach, I follow Reece out the door, after giving Gina a quick hug and promising to call.

  Reece heads to a big, expensive looking black car with tinted windows. To my surprise he opens the passenger door for me. I climb in as it thuds shut with an expensive thunk.

  Once he climbs into the driver’s seat and pulls out of the car park, I find myself making inane conversation to try and dampen my nerves.

  “Nice car,” I say.

  “It’s a rental,” he replies.

  “Oh. What’s your car?”

  He glances in the rear-view mirror, then at me briefly.

  “I’ve got a couple, and a couple of bikes. Motor bikes, I mean, not push bikes.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  Silence. A silence I can’t stand for some reason.

  The thing about me is, I’m a quiet person. Fairly introverted in many ways. Not lacking in confidence, people think being introverted means being unable to stand up for yourself, it doesn’t. I simply find being around a lot of people exhausting and prefer to be in my own company, or that of a few trusted friends. I don’t chatter on for the sake of it…unless I’m horribly nervous. Right now, I’m horribly nervous.

  “I used to go out with a guy who rode bikes. Scary as hell. I hated riding on the back. Never got used to it.”

  “You’re not an adrenalin junkie then?” He glances at me for a nano-second.

  I frown at his question, because I used to be. In some ways I still am. “I don’t know. I used to be. I did a few extreme sports. Rock climbing, some high-altitude stuff even.”

  He looks at me for a beat longer this time. “Me too.”

  “Yeah? Where’s the highest you’ve been?”

  “Aconcagua,” he says. “How about you?”

  “The Rockies for me. I’d love to go to the Himalaya one day.”

  He smiles. “Yeah, me too. Thing is though, I’m not actually a great fit for high altitude stuff, build- wise, but I still love it. Takes its toll, though.”

  I glance at his body, nope. He’s too big, all that weight to haul up in thin air.

  “Do you ski?” I ask him.

  He shakes his head. “Not into it. Tried snowboarding, it’s okay, but I prefer to get out hiking and climbing. I like diving, too.”

  “Me too.” I almost clap my hands together like a child. “I love to dive, it’s a real passion, and I like a good hike. It’s great for it around here.” I point vaguely out the window. “Of course, I can’t go now. Not now he’s back.”

  Reece makes a grunting sound and turns right onto a smaller road. He’s heading toward the house I’ve rented under a false name. It’s a small place, inland from the coast, with views out over the hills from the back garden and the mountains too from the side. I love it, but not as much as the holiday cottage I own on the coast. That’s far too dangerous to visit right now, though. The perverted freak stalking me most likely has a list of the places I own.

  “Where are you from?” I ask Reece. He’s got a slight southern accent, but not a strong one.

  “Near Reading. But I’ve lived all over the place for a lot of years, travelled so much with the forces I never felt I called anywhere home, you know? I love it here, and North Wales. Go there a lot, know parts of it like the back of my hand. I always tell myself I’ll live there one day. Currently, I live in Yorkshire. A group of my friends live there, and we set this business up together.”

  “The protection work?”

  He gives a nod. “And some other stuff, too. But mostly close protection.”

  “Do you get many famous people?”

  “Nope. We’re not minders, although we do short term jobs when dignitaries visit. Often, it’s to do with state visits, or the sort of people with real power but who most of the population have never heard of.”

  “Must be a comedown babysitting little old me then?” I give a laugh.

  He shoots me a sideways glance. “Not really. I love your books.” A tiny tinge of color hits his cheeks, under his tan.

  “You read my books?” I’m flattered. Call me silly, but he’s a real-life hero, and I love that he’s read and enjoyed my writing.

  “Yeah. I like them. Of course, I thought you were a man then. I doubt I’d read them now I know you’re a lady.” He throws a wink my way to let me know he’s joking, but all I can focus on is the smile lines fanning from his eyes, and the dimple peeking out of the scruff on his cheek. He hasn’t got a beard as such, but he’s got full-on, thick stubble. His hair is a dirty, dishwater blond and his stubble a touch darker. I expect his hair would look darker too, if he cut it, and took the sun-kissed bits out.

  I turn away and stare out the tinted window at the sunny day, which looks gloomier through the dark glass. He’s hot, but he’s way out of my league, younger than me too, I think. So maybe Gina is correct. I can simply have a harmless crush on him and use him to feed the muse. Let my creative juices get flowing. I smirk at the double entendre and then close my eyes, letting the movement of the car lull me as we head back to the place where I am holed up.

  Trapped.

  Waiting.

  Because I know pain and death are coming for me.

  I can feel it in the air around me, taste it on my tongue. I hope the big, scary body Reece comes housed in is as capable as it looks, because I think they are going to be put to the test sooner or later.

  Chapter Three

  Reece

  We pull up outside the house and Kate gives a small gasp of dismay. I follow the line of her gaze and see a bunch of flowers on top of her car. They aren’t the cheap sort you get from the petrol station, but expensive looking. All wrapped up in dusky pink paper and cellophane—the flowers are velvety pink roses, and some other bloom I can’t name.

  Motherfucker. I know for a fact this is the work of her stalker. It means he’s found her new bolt hole. I turn to her. “Don’t move.”

  I climb out of the car, taking the keys with me, and locking the door so the fucker can’t get to her in the car if he’s in the area still.

  Approaching the vehicle, I look on
the ground around it. There’s footprints in the soft soil. Today is warm, but it has rained on and off for a week prior to the last two days, and there is still enough moisture in the soil for it to hold the shape of the footprints. I take out my phone and photograph them. I don’t touch the flowers. There might be fingerprints on them, but I doubt it. Unless this criminal genius is a lot less amazing than the cops have made him out to be. There’s a card in a thick envelope with the flowers. I’ll look at it later when I’ve got some gloves so as not to disturb any possible prints.

  I glance all around me, but there’s no sign of anyone still being here. Doesn’t mean he’s not, though. The place is surrounded by trees. I don’t like it one bit. I take out my phone and fire a text off to Liam, asking him to find me a place to rent as soon as possible. I tell him to pay for it himself, so it isn’t traceable back to either me or Kate. I doubt this freak has my information, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful. Thinking for a moment, I fire off another text to Liam.

  I ask him to try and get something on the Welsh coast, maybe somewhere like Moefre. It’s a tiny place on Anglesey. I know North Wales well, and I feel more comfortable trying to protect her somewhere I know. There are many resorts that are so small there is only one road in and out. It won’t be easy for someone to skulk around there like it is here. Kate has a holiday cottage there, so she must like it, feel comfortable there. It’s also about half the journey time for the guys to get there if something happens. Part of me wants to take her back to Yorkshire, near my team, but she’s already shaken, and scared. She’s also turned her life upside down more than once because of this dick. I want her somewhere she feels relatively comfortable. I imagine if she owns a holiday home there, then North Wales is somewhere she both knows and is fond of.

  Happy all seems safe, I head back to the car, beeping the lock as I go. I pull open the passenger door to find a wreck.