The Bodyguard

by Adair, Cherry; Showalter, Gena; O'Clare, Lorie

  Another sigh. “So what do we do now?”

  He didn’t have to think about it. “We do what we’re good at. You work your way into her pants and I eliminate anyone who tries to stop you.” Himself included.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Thursday through Sunday, Gabby worked from 7:00 P.M. to 3:00 A.M., her usual nights and hours. Only difference was, her new boss and his bodyguard. Mr. Patrick was in his office upstairs, standing at the wall of windows that overlooked the entire club, watching her. That shouldn’t have bothered her. He was a handsome man, almost pretty. But bother her it did.

  Why? He was the kind of man she usually preferred—on the rare occasions she allowed herself to date, that is. Clean-cut, well mannered, established. He’d had letters to his mom on his laptop, even. Sweet letters. Loving letters. Not many men were that sensitive, and she liked that about him.

  But he wasn’t the one who had fascinated her. The moment she’d walked into the office earlier that week, Sean Walker had consumed her attention. He was big and tattooed, his gaze unwavering, his expression etched in constant challenge. There were secrets in his eyes . . . a darkness that should have frightened her.

  Unlike Rowan, Sean was the kind of man she usually avoided. Hard, rough around the edges, a fighter. The kind of man that reminded her of her past, of those nights spent on the streets, alone and scared. Of those days locked in some madman’s laboratory, a lab rat whose head had been shaved, whose skull had been sawed open—whose brain had never been the same.

  Hell, her life had never been the same. Before releasing her, the asswipe who’d operated on her had given her a warning: Go to the authorities and spend the rest of your life in someone else’s laboratory. Have your head examined and spend the rest of your life in someone else’s laboratory. Tell someone what was done to you and spend the rest of your life in someone else’s laboratory. But if you do the smart thing and tell no one, you’ll keep your freedom.

  She hadn’t realized the extent of what had been done to her until years later, when laptops and cell phones became so prevalent. She’d walked into a building and suddenly found file after file opening up in her brain. Private information, photos, password-protected documents.

  For several years, she’d assumed she was going crazy and hallucinating—but she’d been too afraid to get help. As if she could ever forget the warning she’d been given. Only when she’d worked on her own computer, trying to write a résumé, had she realized the truth about her ability. Once she’d saved that résumé, it had downloaded into her mind, just as thousands of other files had done, and she’d known it wasn’t a hallucination.

  Secrets were hers for the taking. Secrets she didn’t want. Secrets that could bring down an entire nation.

  Why the man responsible had let her go, she didn’t know. What he’d hoped to prove, she didn’t know that, either. She only knew that it had taken nearly a decade to learn how to shield her mind from automatic downloads. Sometimes her firewalls failed her and things seeped in, but for the most part, she now controlled what entered her mind.

  Like on Wednesday, when she met her new boss. Curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she’d wanted to know what kind of man she would now be working for. Thomas Wayland, former owner, had had his quirks and a violent temper, but he’d left her alone and paid her under the table.

  Mr. Patrick refused to pay her in secret, but he wasn’t selling drugs out the back door, either, so she could live with the change. Didn’t mean she’d pay her taxes, though, and put herself on the grid.

  “The new boss is hawt, isn’t he?”

  Gabby turned. Bentley, a waitress like her, pressed up against the bar, unloading the empty beer bottles from her tray. She looked to be Gabby’s age, late twenties, had a short cap of black hair and pretty hazel eyes. Her skin was pale and freckled. She always had a friendly smile, and everyone seemed to like her.

  “Sure,” Gabby said, remaining noncommittal. That was always easiest.

  “I wonder if he’s available.”

  Thankfully, they didn’t have to strain to hear each other. The band and dance floor were enclosed by glass and the bar and tables in a separate room, keeping the music and laughter muted.

  “Ask him.” As the bartender handed Gabby the drinks she’d requested, she loaded them onto her tray. “Maybe he’ll take the hint and invite you out.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?” Bentley asked, biting her bottom lip.

  Gabby laughed. “Why would I mind?”

  “Well . . . I hear he asked you out.”

  Yesterday, in fact. And the day before. Why he wanted her she hadn’t yet figured out. Average-looking as she was, he might think she was desperate and easy. Not that he needed desperate and easy. The guy could get anyone he wanted, including the lovely Bentley. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I said yes.”

  “So you said no? Are you crazy?”

  Not Gabby’s favorite question. “Yeah, I told him no.”

  Her irritation must have oozed through her voice, because Bentley’s cheeks leached of color. “Are you interested in someone else, then?”

  “No.” Yes. Part of her wanted to confide in Bentley, to tell all. But trust did not come easily to her, no matter how benign the topic. Even the smallest details could be used against you.

  Where was Sean, anyway?

  She hadn’t seen him all night. But sometimes she would have sworn he was watching her, his electric blues boring into her, taking her measure . . . wanting. Probably wishful thinking on her part. Men just didn’t look at her like that. Not plain little Gabby who didn’t have a lot of curves and was merely cute on her best days.

  She sighed. She’d dreamed about him every night since meeting him. Dreamed of him walking from the shadows in her bedroom, standing over her, and reaching out, smoothing the hair from her face. His skin was always hot, like a brand, his fingers callused.

  He liked to murmur to her, soft, soothing things she couldn’t decipher. Once he’d even brushed his lips over hers. She’d moaned in pleasure, but he’d torn away from her rather than press his weight into her and give her what she craved. Him. Only him.

  She scanned the club, through the masses and around the tables, but there was still no sign of him. Disappointment filled her. He was supposed to be guarding the place and the employees, right? Why wasn’t he?

  God, she had it bad.

  “Something wrong?” Bentley asked. “You’re frowning.”

  “Oh.” Damn it! Caught mooning. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yep.”

  Bentley shook her head as if trying to dissolve a troublesome thought, then lifted her notepad. “Well, I guess I should get back to work,” she said, and strode to the tables in back to take orders.

  Gabby gathered up her tray and headed in the opposite direction. She stopped at one of the side tables, this one surrounded by drunk twentysomethings. One by one she placed their beers in front of them.

  When she released the last one, someone grabbed her wrist and tugged her forward. Without her arms to stop her momentum, she tumbled into the lap of the man closest to her. He laughed and snaked his arms around her, holding her captive. The tray clattered to the floor.

  Everyone else at the table laughed as well.

  Gabby ground her teeth in annoyance. “Let me go,” she said as calmly as she was able.

  “But I like you where you are,” her captor said. “And admit it: you want to be here. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself at me.”

  That earned several more chuckles.

  Just as Gabby latched onto his thumb and shoved it backward, toward his wrist, the man howling in pain, she saw Sean step to the table. He was scowling.

  “There a problem here?” he demanded, his voice hard as steel.

  Gabby popped to her feet, heart racing, and released the man’s thumb. “No,” she said, hating the way her voice shook. Sean probably thought she was scared, but she wasn’t. Sh
e’d dealt with men like that her entire life and knew how to handle them. She was excited, despite the fact that she might get fired for her actions.

  Finally, Sean was with her again.

  To her surprise, he smelled like mint and evening primrose. The floral fragrance should have been feminine, but on him it was delectably masculine, and she found herself breathing deeply.

  “Hell, yes, there’s a problem,” the man growled, jumping up. Though he wavered on his feet, he glared down at her. “You broke my thumb, bitch.”

  Gabby returned his glare with one of her own. “And you sexually harassed me, you son of a bitch.” She moved to flatten her palms on his chest and shove him back into his chair, but he was already out of reach.

  Sean had circled the table, come up behind her, and slammed his hands on the man’s shoulders, sending him propelling into his chair. Sean leaned down, putting him nose to nose with his opponent.

  Everyone at the table went silent and no one moved to help their friend. Probably because Sean looked capable of cold-blooded murder just then.

  “You ever touch her like that again and I’ll cut off your hands. Ever talk to her like that again and I’ll cut out your tongue. Believe me, I’m very good with knives. Do we understand each other?”

  Shock overwhelmed Gabby. Sean had defended her.

  The man paled, the blue veins underneath his skin now visible. He nodded. “Y-yeah, man. Yeah.”

  “Good.” Sean patted him on his cheek and straightened. “Finish your drinks and get out. You won’t like what happens if you linger.”

  The command was not met with any protests. In fact, everyone at the table grabbed their beers, downed them as quickly as possible—liquid even spilling out the sides of their mouths—and raced from the building.

  She and Sean stood in place for several minutes, silent. His back was to her, and that was for the best. She didn’t want to see that fierce, determined expression, didn’t want to feel the lance of attraction that always followed the meeting of his gaze. Didn’t want to like him any more than she already did.

  Of course, he had to turn eventually. Thankfully, though, he didn’t look down at her. He kept his attention just over her head, a muscle ticcing in his jaw.

  “You okay?” he asked. Still his voice was like a barely banked inferno.

  Concern. For her. Wow. “I’m fine.”

  He arched a brow. “Stuff like that happen often?”

  She shrugged, careful to keep her expression blank. Not that he was looking at her. Why wasn’t he looking at her? Sure, she wanted to avoid catching his gaze and feeling that lance of attraction, but what was his reason? “Depends on your definition of ‘often.’ ”

  “I’ll take that for a yes.”

  “Smart man.”

  His lips twitched into a smile as his gaze fell . . . only he didn’t meet her eyes. Yet. First he studied her chin, then her lips, then her nose. When those electric blues finally collided with her plain browns, every muscle in her body tensed and a shiver of awareness slid the length of her spine. God, he was beautiful. And yeah, maybe his tattoo and badass demeanor reminded her of her days on the streets, but suddenly she couldn’t recall why that was a bad thing.

  “What time do you get off?” he asked.

  Loaded question. Was he asking her out? But while the words had been sexual, his tone had been matter-of-fact. “Around three, after my area is clean. Why?”

  “I’m going to walk you to your car.”

  That was his job, keeping everyone safe. Not special treatment. That’s what she told herself, anyway, but that didn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat. “Okay.”

  “And then, of course, I’ll follow you home.”

  Wait. What? “Uh, no, thanks.” She didn’t live at the address in her personnel file. She never had. It was better that way. If anyone came for her in the dead of night, she wouldn’t be where they assumed.

  The thought of having Sean over, though, of getting to know him and spending the night locked in his arms, was heady. Heady enough to cause her breath to hitch.

  “That’s not necessary,” she forced herself to add.

  Once again, his brow arched. “What if those guys are waiting for you? What if they follow you home?”

  More of that concern . . . it was as potent as a caress. No one had ever concerned themselves with her safety. “I can take care of myself. I swear.”

  “Oh, really?” His gaze dropped to her lips and lingered this time. “Know how to lose a tail?”

  To admit that yes, she did, would be to invite questions about why she did. Gabby simply shrugged.

  Someone bumped into her, and she stumbled forward. Sean caught her by the arms to steady her. She experienced another sizzle of awareness, and maybe he did, too. Neither of them backed away.

  “I want to kiss you,” Sean said suddenly, gruffly, “but my boss wants you for himself.”

  Her eyes widened. Sean wanted to kiss her. Sean Walker actually wanted to kiss her. You have to get away from him. You can’t allow him to do what he wants—even though you want it, too. “I don’t want your boss.” Damn it. Why had she said that?

  “Why?”

  Because I want you. “He’s not my type.”

  “And what’s your type?”

  “Temporary.” That was the truth, and that’s the way it had to be. And yet even those temporary dalliances ended poorly. Every time. Someone would get too attached, usually her, but she would still have to move on when the time came because staying in one place for too long allowed a person to develop habits, and habits could make that person a target.

  Sean ran his tongue over his teeth. “And you think Rowan wants more from you than a good fuck?”

  Probably not. Which made him perfect for her. “You ask a lot of questions,” she grumbled. Talkative men were annoying. Sometimes. God, why didn’t Sean annoy her?

  “I should walk away from you,” he said darkly.

  “Yeah, well, I should walk away from you.”

  Now his eyes narrowed. Every word out of her mouth seemed to anger him. “Do it, then. Walk away.”

  “Believe me. That’s not a problem.” Except it was. Still. She turned. She didn’t handle challenges well.

  His fingers curled around her shoulders, and he jerked her back around. The shadows in the club seemed to swirl around them, thick and impenetrable, chasing away the rest of the world until they were the only two people in existence. She bumped into his body and his arms banded around her. Before she could say a word, his lips smashed against hers and, rather than ease her into the kiss, he thrust his tongue past her teeth and into her mouth, conquering, demanding.

  Stopping him never entered her mind. She moaned, sinking into him, tongue rolling over his. His taste was orgasmic. Mint and cherry. Heat radiated from him, such delicious heat.

  One of his hands tangled in her hair, angling her head for better, deeper, wetter contact. The other hand glided down her back, gripped her thigh, and hooked it to his waist. The new position opened her up, placed her core just over his thigh. Another moan escaped her, this one hoarse and needy. She could feel him, his muscle against her clit.

  Thank God she’d worn jeans. Had she done laundry and worn a skirt as usual—and as required—she would have been rubbing against him and he would have felt how damp she was.

  She shouldn’t be doing this. Not with him. Not in a crowded club. Not even in private. She’d managed to avoid male temptation for the past two years, and she preferred to keep it that way. There’d be no tears when she left. And she would leave; she always did. Except her solitary, nomadic lifestyle had been getting to her lately, depressing her. That was probably why she’d spent six months in New York rather than her standard four.

  “I’m hard as a damn rock,” Sean suddenly growled.

  Oh yes, he was. That erection rode up her belly, tall and thick and teasing just right. More, more, more, she thought. It had been so long, and this was so freaking good. Good-bye
tears be damned. “So?”

  “We have to stop,” he insisted. He was panting. His eyes appeared black rather than blue, shadows swirling in their depths.

  “Yes, stop.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassed heat. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

  “Good.” His arms fell away from her, and her knees almost buckled.

  She managed to remain upright as she struggled to find her breath. A girl could get used to—and addicted to—being kissed like that. Like she was the entire world. Like everything revolved around her and nothing mattered but her pleasure. Like her body was worthy of worship.

  But rejected like that? No, thanks. No kiss was worth that. Liar.

  Thankfully no one was whistling or telling them to get a room. In fact, as the shadows faded from around them, she saw that everyone was going about their business as if nothing had happened.

  “Don’t leave the club without me,” he said. “Understand?”

  “I—I won’t.” Except that I will. Clearly noncommittal evasions weren’t going to work with this determined man.

  “And I’m following you home.”

  “Sure.” Sorry. No can do.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t happen to be lying, would you?”

  “Of course not.” Yes.

  “Good.”

  “Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said, raising her chin, “I have to return to work.”

  “Not yet. We haven’t discussed that kiss.”

  He was teasing. He had to be. “We don’t need to. It’s over. Done.”

  “Yeah, we do need to discuss it. You need to know that it won’t be happening again.”

  “Fine,” she said, hoping she sounded relieved rather than disappointed. Wishing she felt relieved rather than disappointed. This is stupid. All that darkness inside his eyes couldn’t be good. He was better off as a memory.

  “Believe me. It’s best this way,” he added, mirroring her thoughts. “I might be as temporary as Rowan, but I’m a hell of a lot more than you can handle.” With that, he strode away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  For two and a half weeks, Sean followed Gabby home. Well, to the address she’d given her former boss. From the very first, she had known Sean was following her—even though she’d ducked out of the club, trying not to draw his notice. But notice her he had. Every damn time. He was always hyperaware of her and knew the moment she split. He’d race out and be on her tail in seconds, not even attempting to hide.