Protecting The Billionaire

by Christina Tetreault

  The red tractor-trailer passed her on the right as it headed for an exit. Immediately she checked the cars behind her again. A white pickup now road her bumper so close that if she stopped quickly, the driver would find himself in her trunk. Unfortunately, that wasn’t uncommon for this time of day. And as infuriating as it might be, if it meant the dark-colored car from earlier wasn’t around, she wouldn’t complain.

  The pickup drifted a little to the left as the driver spoke on his cell phone, giving Allison a good view of the cars further back. She wasn’t an expert on cars, but the dark sedan three vehicles back on the right resembled the car from earlier.

  Is it the same one? They’d passed multiple exits since leaving Alexandria and she’d changed lanes three times. If it was the same driver, could it be a coincidence that they still remained behind her?

  “In one mile, take exit twenty.” The GPS directions forced her to watch the exit signs rather than the cars behind her, which was something she really should’ve been doing all along.

  If someone did follow her off the interstate, should she still go to Rock’s apartment? What if she parked and whoever drove the other car attacked her in the parking lot? Heading straight to the police station made much more sense. Too bad she didn’t know where it was located.

  Her stomach clenched at the sight of the white pickup truck and the dark-colored sedan following her off the exit ramp and right onto Dumfries Road.

  “Turn left,” the GPS said a few seconds too late as she passed the road she needed. Normally, she didn’t rely on only the device’s verbal instruction but also checked the map on the display screen. Thanks to the car behind her, she’d ignored the map and missed her turn.

  The GPS repeated its instructions as the line representing her route changed on the screen to compensate for her error. A quick look in the mirror showed the dark sedan still behind her as she turned down the next street.

  Unsure of what else to do, she pressed the phone icon on her steering wheel. “Call Rock,” she said, thankful for whatever technology made it possible for her car and phone to work together. “Come on, answer.” If he didn’t answer now, she’d drive around until he did. No way was she getting out of her car without him around.

  ***

  Rock ignored the beep of his cell phone. Ever since the pictures from the hockey game and another of them exiting Bartholdi Park went live in the media, he’d been getting texts from his buddies, all of them letting him now what a lucky SOB he was. Not that he needed any of them to tell him. However, a part of him did wish he’d thought a little harder before making out with Allison in full view of a camera lens. Having pictures of them making out all over the Internet wasn’t the best way to make a good impression on her father. She said it didn’t matter, insisting her father wouldn’t make any judgments about him based on some pictures. Regardless of her reassurance, he remembered his own reaction when he spotted a similar picture of his sister and Trent on the cover of The Star Report back in the fall. When he’d told Allison, she’d reminded him of Trent’s playboy reputation and stated it had probably contributed to his negative feelings. He hadn’t argued with her. People might call him a lot of things, but he wasn’t a heartless playboy like the media had once portrayed Trent.

  Oddly, he didn’t disagree with Allison on much. Since the weekend they’d gone to the hockey game, he’d either driven up to Alexandria to see her or they’d talked on the phone. The only time they’d come close to really disagreeing had been last night. He’d promised to drive up once his interview with Elite Force Security ended, which was an event he still needed to process. She’d insisted this time she’d come to him instead. Rather than argue about something so trivial, he’d given in.

  Right now though, he’d prefer to be in his truck driving instead of hanging around his apartment with Baxter and waiting. Somehow driving helped when he had a lot on his mind. Tonight he had a crapload clogging up his thoughts.

  He’d expected his interview to be a meet-and-greet with Eric Coleman. The guy would do his best to convince him to join the company and become a glorified babysitter for any Tom, Dick, or Harry with deep enough pockets. Thanks to his conversation with Connor, he went into the interview knowing the company did more than just babysit, but he’d assumed that meant they also dabbled in some private investigating or something else along those lines. He hadn’t been prepared for the truth.

  To the world, Elite Force Security was just another pricey private security firm, which had been providing personal security for over forty years. However, some of its employees never worked as personal bodyguards. Instead, they worked as part of the H.R.T. or Hostile Response Team, a special division within the company developed almost twelve years ago. This division conducted the clandestine black-op assignments the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the CIA, and/or POTUS didn’t want the US tied to, as well as hostage rescues. When Coleman dropped his bomb on him, his first thought had been that the guy was delusional. The idea of a secret paramilitary team running assignments for the government sounded like a plot for an action movie or some reality TV show. When no camera crew appeared and started filming, he accepted that Coleman was for real.

  Now he needed to decide if he wanted to sign onboard or forget he ever learned the truth about Elite Force’s special division and go on with his life. The military was in his blood. Never had he doubted he’d join the military and serve his country. Except for his sister, it was just what Raimonos did. She was the black sheep of the family.

  He’d never regretted his decision either. Unfortunately, the politicians often influenced the decisions made by those in charge, limiting the effectiveness of the military. From the sound of it, the orders H.R.T. received bypassed the politicians all together, making it able to carry out operations without all the bullshit and red tape.

  Working for such as organization appealed to him on many levels. If he agreed though, it would mean keeping a part of his life a secret from everyone. The director had stressed more than once the level of secrecy all the men and woman on the team needed to uphold. In many cases, even spouses didn’t know what their husbands or wives did. Did he want that type of life? He didn’t have an answer and he didn’t see himself reaching one tonight either, not with Allison around.

  Allison, now that was another case of there being more than what you saw on the outside. Most people probably looked at her and saw a beautiful woman who lived a life of luxury and did nothing more then get her nails done. He’d never admit it to her, but he’d initially had a similar opinion. There was a hell of a lot more to her than that.

  During the past few weeks, he’d only scratched the surface, and the more he uncovered, the more he liked her. Perhaps it had been inevitable. She had taken him to a hockey game and a barbecue joint on their first date. Any woman who’d do that was a keeper in his book.

  His favorite AC/DC song blasted out of his phone, causing Baxter to raise his head and look at him. Few people called him. Most of his friends and his older brothers preferred to send text messages. Only three people called him on a regular basis his mom, sister, and Allison. If it was Mom or Addie now, he’d let them leave a message. A call from Allison he’d take.

  Checking the number on the screen first, he grabbed the phone and he hit the talk icon. “Hey, Allison. On your way?” He almost asked if she’d gotten lost. She’d admitted her sense of direction sucked.

  “My GPS says I’ll be at your apartment in three minutes. Can you meet me outside?”

  The unease in her voice stopped him from asking why. Later he’d find out what was up; for now, he’d go with it. “Sure thing.”

  “Thanks. See you in a few,” Allison said before she disconnected the call.

  Rock shoved the phone in his pocket. Allison’s request made no sense, neither did her tone of voice. He’d heard the same unease in her voice before too. He’d let it go on the other occasions; tonight he’d get some answers because it wasn’t his imagination. “Outside, Baxter.” Passing by
the couch, he gave the mutt a tap on the side, sending him toward the door.

  Several cars passed by before Allison’s two-door coupe turned into the parking lot. When she spotted him, she waved before pulling in alongside his truck.

  Stepping out of the car, Allison glanced at the road before looking at him. “I brought you a surprise,” she said, holding up a plastic bag and walking toward him.

  He ignored the bag and focused on her face. She was pale and her eyes kept darting to the road. Something or someone had spooked her.

  “Let’s go inside,” he said, meeting her near the row of mailboxes and taking her free hand. What he wanted to do was pull her against him and kiss her. His gut told him she wouldn’t be at ease until they were in his apartment with a locked door between them and the rest of the world. Her apparent unease didn’t stop her from placing a kiss on his cheek, sending his pulse up a notch before she all but sprinted up the steps into the building.

  “Hope you’re hungry. I stopped at the Coffee Factory Cafe for lunch. When I saw the bear claws, I remembered you mentioning how much you like them,” she said, naming one of his favorite pastries as he opened his apartment door for her.

  “Thanks.” Accepting the bag, Rock considered his next move. The head behind his zipper said to kiss her now and ask questions later. The one attached to his neck told him to get to the bottom of things first, because once he kissed her, they might not talk again for a while. “What’s wrong?”

  She gave him a forced laugh as she walked away. “Nothing is wrong.” She slipped off her jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, a false smile in place. “How was the interview today?”

  “Don’t buy it.” He dropped the bag on the table and crossed his arms. “Out with it, Ally.” The more time he spent with her, the more he thought of her as Ally. However, he’d never called her that until now.

  “My mom called me Ally all the time. Sometimes my dad would too, but not after Mom died.”

  Merda. She looked ready to cry. He preferred to avoid crying women. “It slipped out. Won’t happen again.”

  “I like when you say it.” Incredibly soft hands, hands he vividly remembered touching him in other ways earlier in the week, slid up his arms before settling on his shoulders as she pressed her lips against his.

  The woman knew how to distract him and put off answering questions, but he’d get what he wanted before they moved from this spot. He pulled her hands away and took a step back so he could see her face. “Tell me what’s going on. Why’d ya need me outside?”

  “I thought someone was following me, but I think I was wrong. Right after I called you, the car turned and I didn’t see it again.” Her voice lacked its usual cheery tone. “Maybe it wasn’t even the same car the whole time. Lots of cars look alike.”

  She didn’t believe what she said. She wanted to, but eyes gave her away. He saw the fear in them. “Start at the beginning.”

  Allison clasped her hands behind her back. If she didn’t want him to see how they shook, she should’ve hid them sooner. “When did you first see the car?” he asked when she remained quiet.

  “Right after I left work. It stayed behind me all the way to 95. At first it didn’t bother me too much. Then, I don’t know, I got this funny feeling, like something was up.” She rolled her eyes as she sat. “Go ahead say it. I know it sounds crazy. Feelings don’t just come on when something is wrong.”

  “It’s not crazy.” Instincts and feelings had helped him too many times in the past for him to dismiss them as crazy. “What happened on the highway?”

  “The car stayed right behind me. I changed lanes a few times and whoever was driving did the same. Even after I took the off ramp. That’s around when I called you. I didn’t want to get out of the car and be alone in case whoever it was followed me to your apartment.”

  “Smart.”

  “Then the car turned down another street.” She played with her gold hoop earing and looked at him. “It could’ve just been a bizarre coincidence, right?”

  Maybe if her last name wasn’t Sherbrooke and her uncle wasn’t the President of The United States, he’d entertain the idea it had been a coincidence or not even the same car the entire ride. Given the evidence he had though, he didn’t buy it. “Has this happened before?”

  The fingers on her earing stopped, answering his question.

  “Ally?”

  “The night of my accident, I thought someone was following me.”

  “Did ya tell the police then?”

  “No. I thought maybe my imagination had run crazy. It was late and I was tired.”

  She was telling him the truth, but not the whole truth. “What else has happened?”

  “Nothing really, but sometimes it feels like someone is watching me, especially after work when I walk to my car or if I’m shopping somewhere. And then I got the silly bear and candy at work. Derek thinks I called the police and reported it, but I didn’t.”

  “Ya should’ve.” He would’ve told his sister to do the same thing.

  “What am I supposed to tell them, Rock? Someone sent me a gift and that makes me uncomfortable?” A little aggravation replaced the fear in her voice.

  “Considering everything else, hell yeah. There are some sick people out there who’d hurt you without blinking an eye. Or use ya to get to your uncle. Ally, you gotta do something. If ya don’t want to involve the police, get a bodyguard.”

  “You have no idea how horrible and creepy it is having a bodyguard follow you around all the time.”

  The idea of some guy tailing his girlfriend didn’t thrill him, but he couldn’t do it himself either. “You need someone around, and I can’t be with ya 24/7. Give Elite Force Security a call. They’re the best around here.” Considering what he’d learned about them recently, he couldn’t think of a better organization to keep her safe. But she didn’t and couldn’t know any of that.

  “They are one of the best. My family’s hired them before, but I just don’t know.” She stood and paced. “What if it is my imagination? I don’t want some stranger invading my privacy because my brain’s got its wires crossed.” She paused in front of a window and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

  She wanted to play it cool, but he’d seen the same look before on many individuals. Deep down, she knew the truth and it scared her shitless. “How ‘bout a compromise?” He didn’t force women. Ever. They possessed their own minds. However, she needed protection, which meant this situation called for a little persuasion. “Get a bodyguard for during the day or whenever we’re not together,” he said, joining her near the windows and replacing her hands with his own. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, the close proximity intoxicated him. He wanted nothing more than to pull her so close he didn’t know where his body ended and hers began. “And stay––”

  Glass shattered and intense pain sliced across his upper arm. Without hesitation, he pushed her toward the floor and covered her body with his. Later she might have a few bruises, but better that than the alternative.

  “Don’t get up,” he ordered, reaching into his back pocket for his smartphone. “When I tell ya, crawl across to the bedroom.” Located on the other side of the apartment, his bedroom was as far away as she could get from the windows. “Call 911 and stay there.” He pressed the phone into her hand.

  “What’s going on? Why do you want me to call the police?” She searched his face for an answer but punched in 911 as he instructed. “Did someone throw a rock through the window?”

  She thought a rock sent him for cover. That explained her lack of freaking out. Too bad he needed her to know the truth. “Tell them shots have been fired.”

  Every ounce of color left her face, and if she hadn’t already been on the ground, he would’ve feared she’d pass out. “You’re safe. Just do what I said.” He rolled off her and got into a crouched position. “Move. I’ll be back.”

  Rather than follow his orders, she sprang to her knees and grabbed his arm, gripping
the gash the bullet left on its way by, and making him grimace.

  “No. If someone’s still out there, it’s not safe. Wait and let the police handle it.”

  Considering her size, she possessed a decent grip and it took a little effort to remove her hand from his arm. “No time. Just do what I said, Allison.”

  “Please stay.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t outright cry.

  He repeated ever curse word he knew in both English and Italian in his head and nodded. His gut told him the SOB who’d shot at them was long gone anyway. “Get in the other room.” Rock took back the smartphone and hit the talk button.

  When the 911 dispatcher answered, they only managed to get the words “911 where is” out before he interrupted them.

  “Shots fired at Glendale Apartments,” he barked out as he moved back toward the window and at the same time kept on eye on Allison. So far, she’d held it together and moved into his bedroom.

  The dispatcher asked questions and while Rock answered them, he pressed himself flat against the wall near the broken window and peaked outside. Nothing. Not a soul moved in the parking lot or on the sidewalk. Even the street remained empty. He’d expected that.

  Across the apartment, Allison didn’t speak. Instead, she chewed on her thumbnail and watched him from the bedroom doorway. The fear he saw caused more pain in his chest than the gash on his arm.

  Keeping clear of the window, he moved back to Allison and wrapped his arms around her. She shivered against him as if she spent the last ten minutes on the beach in December with nothing more than a bikini on, but she never cried or lost her head. Other women he knew would be a hysterical, sobbing mess and clinging to him. Not Ally. She possessed a backbone. She wasn’t going to let fear overtake her.