by Tara Wyatt
“Did you sleep much?” asked Sierra, passing her a cup of coffee and offering her a muffin from a nearby plate.
Alexa took the food with a smile and settled onto one of the stools lined up against the island in the center of the kitchen. “A little.” She took a sip of the coffee and peeled the wrapper off the muffin, picking at a raisin and popping it in her mouth. “Not really.”
Sierra rubbed a hand in a soothing circle over Alexa’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, honey. I can’t even imagine…” She trailed off, shaking her head.
“Have you thought any more about going to the cops?” asked Sean, looking every inch the professional bodyguard in his simple black suit, his shoulder holster peeking out from under his jacket.
“I’ve thought about it a lot.” She sighed and broke off a piece of the muffin, then chewed it thoughtfully. “If I do, I’m putting myself at greater risk, but it might prevent another murder from happening. It might also destroy my relationship with my family. And bad guy or not, he’s still my father.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I don’t know.” Once again her eyes met Zack’s, who was watching her intently, tension coiled in his muscles. “What do you think I should do?” she asked him, the question popping out before she could stop herself.
Zack crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles in his arms rippling as he moved, and he tilted his head, thinking. “My main concern is that your father’s offering you up as bait. Not only is that fucked up, but it’s dangerous. I’m confident that I—we—can keep you safe. I think you need to wait until you’re sure before you involve the police.”
She nodded slowly, picking at her muffin, crumbs falling from her fingers and speckling the granite surface of the island. “I need more time. I’m not ready to decide. For now I just want to go home.”
“I’m not sure that home is a safe spot for you,” said Sean, pushing a hand through his hair. “Until we figure out how to play this, I’d feel better with you here.”
“And what about me?” asked Zack, his brow furrowed.
Sean turned to Alexa. “I’m assigning Zack as the lead on this case. Obviously he’ll have the support of the team, but he’ll be your main guy. Is that okay with you?”
She nodded and shot Zack a small smile, feeling suddenly shy. “Sure.”
“Good,” said Sean. “So that means he’ll be staying here too, for now.”
“Are we at all concerned about how that might look?” asked Ian. “Won’t it seem suspicious that you’re staying here?”
“My father probably won’t even notice,” she said, shrugging. “And if he does, I’ll tell him my place is being fumigated, or a pipe burst, or something. I think we’re okay.” But then she frowned as she turned to Zack. “What about your training? Your fight?”
He smiled, the half smile that made her heart flutter. “The fight’s still on, and don’t worry about me.”
She swallowed, and just when she thought she was regaining control over her haywire body, Zack winked and mouthed, “Too sweet.”
Her mouth fell open, and she exhaled slowly before shoving a piece of muffin in her mouth. She stared at the granite as she chewed, blood heating her cheeks, her fingertips tingling. She crossed her legs and felt the urge to squeeze her thighs together.
“We’ve got you covered, lass,” said Ian, nodding at her, probably mistaking her silence for fear. And shit, fear might’ve been better, because at least she knew what to do with that. But right now, in this moment, she wasn’t afraid.
She was aroused.
“We do,” said Sean, nodding. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, but we’re not going to let anything happen to you, regardless of what you decide.”
“No matter what,” added Zack, his hands braced on the island, the corded muscles of his forearms moving beneath tanned skin.
She looked around at these three men, all so strong, so confident, so capable, and a completely welcome sense of security enveloped her, gratitude and relief filtering over her like sunshine.
Now she just had to figure out what the hell to do.
About everything.
Chapter 6
Zack pulled open the passenger side door of his Jeep and took Alexa’s hand to help her up into the vehicle. Her hand was so small, so delicate in his, and he glanced down, not letting himself savor the sight of her fingers against his palm. But looking down was a mistake, because now he was staring at her denim-clad hips, the jeans barely containing her curves.
Fine. He was staring at her ass. For a sliver of a second, the image flashed through his mind before he could stop it, his hands around those hips, her ass pressed against his thighs as he buried himself inside her.
Shit.
With a brief smile, he made sure she was tucked inside before closing the door and walking briskly around the front of the Jeep to hop up into the driver’s seat. Without a word he jammed the key in the ignition, cringing as Jay-Z blared through the Jeep’s interior at full volume. Quickly, he reached out and twisted the knob, turning it down.
“Sorry. Postworkout adrenaline,” he said as he put the Jeep in drive and maneuvered to the bottom of Sierra and Sean’s circular driveway.
She shrugged one shoulder and shot him a sweet smile. “Hey, it’s cool. Ain’t no one fresher than Hova.”
Fuck, she was cute. Cute, and off-limits. She’d already been off-limits for a number of reasons, but now he was officially her bodyguard, which added another layer of what might as well have been yellow caution tape around her. Fraternization with clients was against Virtus’s policy. Not because Sean was trying to control the love lives of his employees, but because he knew firsthand how distracting it was to date a client while trying to keep her safe.
Part of the reason that Zack had offered himself up for the job was that he didn’t want to leave her safety up to anyone else. And her safety had to come first.
Fuck, her safety was the only thing that should be coming anywhere at all.
Easing the Jeep into traffic, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he struggled to refocus his thoughts, refusing to poke into the deeper reasons why he’d been so reluctant to leave her security up to someone else on the team. Refusing to let his mind linger on all his Alexa-fueled fantasies, and not just because he didn’t want to get hard while wearing sweatpants.
“Thank you,” said Alexa, her hand landing on his thigh and completely eviscerating his tenuous control over his dirty thoughts. Immediately, he imagined her hand sliding higher, her fingers brushing against his package…
Jesus, maybe taking this job had been a mistake. And yet it didn’t feel like a mistake. Having eyes on Alexa, knowing he could keep her safe…Fuck, it felt right. Really goddamn right.
She gave his thigh a squeeze and quickly took her hand back, and he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, forcing images of different choke holds into his brain, pushing out anything remotely sexy. If he wanted to keep her safe, he needed to get a grip on his nearly out-of-control crush on Alexa.
Alexa, who was too sweet for him. Too good. Too distracting. Too out-of-bounds.
“For what?” he asked, focusing on the traffic around them.
“I overheard you and Sean earlier. Thanks for volunteering.”
He cleared his throat before speaking, slightly embarrassed. “You’re welcome.” He rolled to a stop at a red light and turned to look at her, truth bursting free. “I like you, Alexa, and I care about your safety. It’s important to me. I want to help you.”
She inhaled sharply, her breasts straining against her T-shirt, and she nodded, pressing her fingers against her mouth. “Thanks. I…appreciate the help, Zack.”
He almost groaned at the sound of his name because it sounded so damn good coming from her. God, she’d probably be so sweet in bed. Hot and yielding and giving and incredible.
This assignment was going to be either a disaster, or the best thing he’d ever done.
And he couldn’t let it be a disaster. So he push
ed away everything—how attracted he was to her, how much he liked her, how good she smelled, how amazing she’d felt in his arms yesterday—and started mentally going through a security plan. He navigated the morning traffic on Fountain Avenue, descending from Sean and Sierra’s house in the Hollywood Hills and heading west toward Alexa’s neighborhood, which was between West Hollywood and Beverly Hills.
“You’re going to be okay. We’ll figure it out, and until then I’ve got you. Okay?” The Jeep crawled toward Melrose, and he met her eyes, feeling a kick in his gut when he did.
It was ridiculous. Morning haze above him, cars surrounding him, a hundred other things to be focused on, but he was absorbed in the silvery blue of her eyes, and in that moment he swore a silent oath that he’d do whatever it took to keep her out of harm’s way.
“So you had training this morning?” she asked, a slight flush on her cheeks.
He nodded, resisting the urge to honk when a Porsche cut him off. “Yeah. I train at six a.m. most mornings.”
“Wow. That’s really early. I’m completely useless at six in the morning.”
Immediately, the image of Alexa in bed, sleepy and warm, sheets wrapped around her naked body, seared through his brain, and Zack cursed his vivid imagination as it conjured up several uses for Alexa at the crack of dawn.
“When I’m prepping for a fight, I train twice a day, once in the morning and once again in the afternoon or evening, depending on my work schedule.”
She peered at him thoughtfully. “That must be tough.”
“It takes up most of my time. It’s partly why things didn’t work out with Taylor.” Well, shit. He hadn’t meant to take the conversation down that road.
She nodded slowly, her lip caught between her teeth. “I get that. You’re already committed to your fighting career. That takes a lot of dedication.” She sighed softly, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “It must mean a lot to you.”
“It does.”
“Can I ask why? I mean…Crap, that sounds rude. I don’t mean it to be. I’m just curious. I’ve seen you fight before, but I’ve never really…I guess, wondered why you do it.”
He eased back against the seat, the conversation relaxing some of the tension in his muscles. “First of all, I want to lay down a few ground rules if we’re going to be working together.”
“Ground rules?” Her brow furrowed. “Like what?”
“Well, like that we need to be able to communicate. So don’t feel uncomfortable asking me questions.” He turned to look at her as they stopped at yet another red light. “I need you to be honest with me, to tell me what you need, and I’ll do the same for you. So you ask me whatever you want. We need to be clear with each other.”
She smiled and licked her lips. “Okay. What else?”
“Along with communication, we need to listen to each other. If I ask you or tell you to do something, it’s not for shits and giggles. And it’s my job to listen to you and make sure you’re getting the protection you need.”
“Agreed. I’ll try not to be too difficult.” Her lips twitched, and his dick mirrored the movement.
“And that feeds into trust. I need you to trust me to do what’s best for you, even if it doesn’t seem like it at the time. Your safety is my top priority.”
“I believe you, and I do trust you, Zack. I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I didn’t.” She huffed out a soft laugh. “Hell, I wouldn’t have told you everything if I didn’t.”
Something in his chest melted and softened, and he sent her a smile. “I’m glad you did.”
Her hand returned to his thigh, and this time it stayed, her fingers pressing into him. “Me too.” After a second she continued the conversation. “Okay. Communication, listening, honesty, trust. What else?”
“That’s pretty much it. Those are the biggies.”
“What are the smallies?”
He chuckled, relaxing even further. She made everything feel so good, so right, infusing everything with her warmth—even a simple conversation like this one. “If and when problems come up, we’ll tackle them together. We’re a team now.”
“A team.” She echoed his words back to him and gave his thigh a squeeze that she probably intended as friendly, but that his mind took to filthy places.
So much for honest communication.
His mind drifted back to the dream he’d had about her last night. In it they’d been in a limo, driving God knew where. Sitting on the bench across from him, Alexa, wearing the same strapless dress she’d had on the night before, had merely watched him, one finger pressed against her pink bottom lip. She’d smiled, something both sweet and bold, never taking her eyes off him.
“Yes?” she’d asked him. And in that weird way where you just know stuff in a dream, he’d known exactly what she meant.
“Hell yes.” He’d spread his arms over the back of the limo’s bench as they watched each other. And then, without another word, she’d tugged her dress down, freeing her full breasts. She’d tilted her head, one eyebrow cocked as all those silvery blond waves tumbled around her pretty face.
“Come here,” he’d said, his voice feeling far away. Small and foggy.
With a smile that was all sweetness, she’d pushed slowly off the bench and settled herself on his lap, straddling his hips, her breasts inches from his face and begging for his mouth, her sweet pink nipples hard and peaked. He’d slid his hands to her gorgeously curved ass, giving her cheeks a firm squeeze.
“Is this what you want?” he’d asked, starting to inch his fingers under the hem of her dress, her skin smooth and soft and warm beneath his touch.
“Is this what you want?” She’d echoed his question back to him, her tongue skimming along her bottom lip. He’d opened his mouth to speak, to assure her that fuck yes, he was game, but then he’d woken up with a jolt, sweaty and tangled in his sheets.
He glanced at Alexa and shifted in his seat. His dick twitched in his pants, and he forced his brain to switch gears. Mentally, he rehashed this morning’s workout, the various combos and holds he’d practiced.
Alexa ran her hands through her hair, her breasts straining against her T-shirt, and he knew he needed to up his distraction game, because his dick was already halfway to punching a hole through his sweatpants.
Baseball. Cars. Motorcycles. Will Ferrell.
She yawned and let out the tiniest, sweetest sigh, and he wondered what kinds of sounds she made during sex.
Shit. He was at erection DEFCON 1.
You fucked her friend, and she’s out of your league. On top of that, she’s never given any indication that she’s into you. And she’s your client now, so it can’t happen. Get your fucking shit together, De Luca. Put your dick away and keep her safe.
He held on to all the reasons he couldn’t have her, repeating them on a loop, the mental equivalent of a cold shower.
It was working. Sort of.
He changed lanes as he turned onto North Robertson, glancing over his shoulder as he maneuvered the Jeep through traffic and Alexa gave his thigh another squeeze. He ground his teeth together and tried to ignore the way his skin seemed to tighten when she did that. He stared at the landscape around him, at the tall, shaggy Mexican fan palms that stood out in the distance against the hazy light-blue sky. Scrubby mountains rose in his rearview mirror, their bumpy outline barely visible against the smog. He focused on the trees and mountains and not the heat thrumming through his body, still fighting against the erection doing its damnedest to make an appearance.
“You never answered my question,” she said, pulling his attention back to her.
“You’re right. I didn’t.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel, trying to figure out how much to tell her and at what point in the story to start.
“So what are you fighting for? What draws you to it?”
“A lot of things, really. I like the physical challenge of it. It’s a good outlet. It focuses me.”
She studied him. “But there
’s more to it than that. I’ve seen a couple of your fights. It’s about more than just beating another guy up.” She smiled, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Which you’re very good at, by the way.” Her gaze trailed over his hands and up his arms.
“Yeah, there’s more to it than that. It’s the discipline, you know? Working hard to be the best at something, to push my body to new limits. There’s something primal about it that makes me feel alive, and to know that I could potentially be the best at something like that…”
“To succeed,” she added, nodding slowly. “But why MMA specifically?”
He shrugged as he turned onto her street. “I never went to college. I was working as a bartender when I started training at Take Down. Honestly, I was looking for a hobby. The bar I worked at showed the fights on TV sometimes, and I wanted to try it. Turned out I was really good at it. It gave me a sense of purpose, a goal to work toward. And it was a hell of a lot more fulfilling than pouring shots for frat boys, I can tell you that.”
“How come you didn’t go to college?”
“Which one’s yours?” he asked, peering at the house numbers.
“Eight-eight-two-five.”
“College wasn’t for me. I’m dyslexic, and school was…Fuck, I hated school.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“It’s not a huge deal. Really.”
She nodded, staring at him, and he could almost hear the wheels turning as she put all the pieces of his story together. He liked when she looked at him like that, as if she wanted to figure him out. As if knowing more about him was worthy of her time.
“I never went to college either.”
He glanced at her. “No?” he asked, unable to keep the note of surprise from creeping into his voice.
She shook her head. “I guess I could’ve, if I’d really pushed it, but it was never something talked about in my family. From as early as I can remember, everything was about being a Fairfax and living up to the family name.”
“What did you want to be when you grew up? A ballerina? Doctor? Or did you always want to be an actress?”
