Mastiff Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  “That’s depressing.”

  “You know what I mean. I’ve never done anything remarkable enough to warrant a hitman coming all the way out here to kill me! I’m just a farm girl!”

  “I think right now the best thing for us to do is focus on the immediate danger. You can figure out who hired him later.”

  “Yeah,” she said just as a gust of wind hit the front doors. She jumped, a little squeal slipping from between her lips. She was suddenly frightened, spooked by the idea that someone had taken a shot at her this morning, twelve hours ago, and she hadn’t known it. What if it happened again? But what if, this time, he hit her and she died? She wouldn’t even know what had happened.

  The idea of dying without warning scared her more than the unknown, more than the idea of freezing to death in here while they tried to figure out what their next step should be.

  “We have to get back to the house.”

  “No!”

  He was struggling to his feet when she turned. She rushed to him and slid her shoulder under his arm, helping him up. He turned into her, taking her face between both his hands.

  “You have to focus. I know this is a lot of information, but I need you to listen to me. The only way we’re going to survive this is if you listen to me.”

  She nodded, tears flowing over the backs of his hands as she looked up at him. Those green eyes—she could get lost in those eyes. But there was something about them, something dark, that also frightened her.

  Everything was scaring her right now.

  She had to get a grip.

  “We need to warm you up and find some clothes.”

  He nodded, stumbling sideways almost as if her statement had reminded him that he was naked in twenty-degree weather.

  Abigail helped him down to the floor again, pulling the blankets tight against him before going in search of something, anything, that might work to keep him warm. As she searched through the old tack room, she was bothered by something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was something about the light. She held the heavy-duty flashlight in her hand, one she now recognized as part of set her father used to keep in the house. How it had ended up here, she had no clue, but she was grateful for it. Its beam was much wider than that of the narrow flashlight she carried in her pocket. Or the light she might have gotten from her cell phone.

  Speaking of which . . . she pulled her cell phone from her back pocket and checked to see if it had a signal. Sometimes she had trouble getting bars out here on this side of the property. But she had three at the moment.

  “I could call nine-one-one,” she raised her voice to tell her naked guest.

  “He’ll be expecting that.”

  “What if I call a neighbor?”

  “It’d be better if you just wait on calling anyone.”

  Abigail came out of the tack room and walked around him so that she could see his face. “We can’t just sit here and wait for that man to come find us.”

  “We’re not going to. We’ll wait until morning and then walk to my car.”

  “It’s supposed to snow tonight. And you’re naked.”

  “The snow will slow him down.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  He shrugged, a movement that was nearly lost in his shivers. His teeth began to chatter again, his body moving violently as he tried to bury himself as deep as possible in the blankets. It wasn’t working. He wasn’t warming up.

  “Close your eyes.”

  “What?” he asked with a voice made shaky by the cold.

  “Close your eyes. We have to get you warm, and I only know one way to do it if you won’t let me light a fire.”

  “Ms. Rains—”

  “I think you can call me Abigail. Only my professors ever called me Ms. Rains.”

  Abigail undressed quickly, leaving on her thermal underwear because she just wasn’t that prepared to get naked with this stranger. But when she turned and saw how violently he was shivering now, how his eyes were closed and he was clearly on the verge of passing out again, she knew she had to get prepared, because this man was going to die and leave her alone to deal with whatever might be out there.

  She stripped quickly and pushed him flat onto the floor, crawling under the blankets with him. Then she reached for her clothes, piling them on top of the blankets, trying to gather as much warmth as she could. She snuggled up against him like she’d known him for years, slipping her hands around his ribs and tugging him close against her. His chest was frigid, so cold to the touch that it felt like she was pressing up against an ice cube. But she moved close, pushing her leg between his and wrapping the other over his thigh, her hands sliding to his back as she rested her head against his shoulder.

  Abigail could feel the heat rushing out of her body, but it seemed like his shivers had lessened slightly.

  “Are you still with me?” she asked.

  “I’m here.”

  She ran her hands up and down his back, hoping to create a little friction that would warm him. He lay limp against her for a while, his breathing a little shallow. But then he moved, slipping one arm almost reluctantly around her waist.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he said softly.

  “If you freeze, I’m alone with that guy.”

  He grunted, but he didn’t comment any further.

  They must have looked ridiculous laying there that way. Two naked bodies under a pile of blankets and women’s clothing. She didn’t think much about that. Her thoughts were more curious about the narrow scars he had on his back, the dimples on the small of his back just above his ass, the tattoo on his upper chest. She hadn’t been this close to another human being in a long time and had never had the opportunity to explore someone quite like this. Her one lover had been self-conscious, unhappy with scars. He’d lost his arm in an accident several years before they met. He liked to look at her, but rarely would he let her look at him, let alone take the time to touch in this way.

  Hadn’t she imagined how this would be a million times over? And hadn’t it always been a desire she never thought she’d experience? But when she imagined it, it hadn’t been with a man whose name she’d heard once.

  “Your name’s Axel?” she asked softly as her fingertips brushed those low dimples for the hundredth time.

  “Yes.”

  “How’d you end up with a name like that?”

  “Don’t know. I always imagined my mother was a fan of Axl Rose of Guns n’ Roses.”

  “You never asked her?”

  “I didn’t really know her.”

  “Oh.”

  Abigail bit her bottom lip, wishing she hadn’t asked. She knew nothing about this guy. She was walking on egg shells, but she kept forgetting that.

  “It’s okay,” he said, his hand slipping out from under her body so that he could lift her chin and look her in the eyes. “It was a long time ago. I don’t really think about it much anymore.”

  “She died?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. I suppose it’s possible.”

  Abigail groaned, pulling her face from his hand. He laughed, brushing his hand over the side of her face like he had a right to touch her however he wanted. Not that she minded. In fact, she kind of liked it.

  “I was taken from my mother when I was a toddler. I hardly remember her, and she never tried to get me back for whatever reason. I grew up in the foster care system.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I am, too. But we all have a cross to bear.”

  Abigail shuddered a little, not sure if it was the cold or his touch that inspired it. She felt rude for asking him such intrusive questions, but she was curious, especially when her eyes fell to the SEAL tattoo on his upper arm. She touched it lightly, her eyes moving up to his perfect green ones.

  “You were a SEAL?”

  “I was.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  He shrugged, suddenly rolling onto his back and pulling her with him. She landed across hi
s body, very aware of the heat that had returned to his body. It was difficult not to turn this into something sexual with their bodies pressed so close together, especially when he tugged at her hip, pulling her higher up against him. His hand seemed almost familiar against her skin, but his chest and six-pack under her belly were so new, and they were incredibly exciting.

  Her juices were running in a way she had never known was possible. It made her heart pound and her hands shake.

  “Are you going to thank me for my service?” He grunted deep in his chest, a rumble that rushed through her. “I never know what to say when people do that. Maybe it’d be easier if I was the noble sort, but I’m not. I joined to get out of the foster home I was in at the time. I intended to stay because I didn’t know what else to do with my life. That’s not something to thank me for.”

  “No matter your motivations, serving your country in that way is noble.”

  “Is it?”

  “And what you do now—”

  “Pays the bills.”

  “Then saving my life is just another day at the office?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Abigail didn’t know what to think of that. She found it annoying because it made her feel insignificant. Like she really didn’t matter, and she really wanted to matter.

  She started to roll away, but he grabbed her and pulled her back up against his chest.

  “Where are you going?”

  “You seem pretty warm now.”

  “Yeah, but if you get out from under the blankets, you’ll get cold. Then we’ll be back where we started.”

  He had a point. She wished he didn’t.

  Abigail let him pull her back against his chest, aware of his hand resting on her hip. She was aware of where just about every part of his body was resting. His hand on her hip, his leg—the hair as soft as a flower petal—between her legs, his chest moving steadily with his breaths against her ribs. Her nipples were hard as little pebbles. She found herself wondering if he could feel them, if he knew that it was lying so close to him that caused them to be that way.

  Was she really that lonely? Or was it just that impossible to ignore the baser instincts everyone was born with?

  “What did they tell you about me?” she asked, hoping to distract herself. Maybe him, too.

  “Basically, everything you’ve told me. That you live here on the farm, that an older couple works for you, but they have a house in town. That you are single and haven’t been seeing anyone. That you—”

  “Why would my relationship status matter?”

  He shifted slightly, moving a shoulder that caused her to slide deeper against his chest. “I need to know who normally comes and goes around you. If you had a boyfriend, I’d be prepared should he spend the night or whatever. We couldn’t have someone getting caught in the cross fire.”

  “Just me, right?”

  “The idea is for you to survive this whole thing. If you don’t, I didn’t do my job.”

  Abigail shuddered, but Axel took it as a shiver. He rolled onto his side again, wrapping his body around her as he tugged her into the angle of him. She slid her hand over his side just to have a place to rest it, finding herself tangled with him the way lovers might lay as they moved toward greater intimacy. Her breath hitched in her chest, her nipples rubbing against him in such a way that it sent waves of pleasure through the length of her.

  “This is a little awkward, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, afraid to look up at him. “Sorry.”

  His angles softened into curves as he smoothed a hand down the length of her back. “We could always get rid of the awkwardness.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “Do what God intended for two naked people to do.”

  His hand wandered down over Abigail’s ass. She stiffened, unable to believe she heard what he’d said.

  “Are you—”

  He kissed her before she could get the question out, his lips insistent. She should have fought him, should have tried to pull away, but the whole thing was so bizarre that it wasn’t a surprise that she’d respond in a bizarre way.

  She kissed him back.

  Chapter 12

  Rain Drop Farms

  She had a fucking beautiful ass!

  Axel had watched her through the thin curtains of her bedroom, watched her move, those curves of hers on display more than she could probably imagine. He was almost disappointed when she turned off the lights and headed down to the kitchen, the curtains open in the front room so that he could clearly see the jeans and t-shirt she’d put on. The curves were still there, but he couldn’t pretend that they were completely uncovered anymore.

  It was a boring job sometimes. It made it more interesting to watch beautiful women show off their perfect bodies.

  And now she was lying in his arms, nothing covering her silky skin, her satin hair both on her head and below. She thought he was out of it, but he wasn’t quite as gone as that. When she crawled in beside him, it took everything he had not to put his hands places he hadn’t earned the right to touch. But then she was wiggling around, and he couldn’t help himself.

  He kissed her, his hand sliding over her ass to tug her closer against him. He wanted her to feel what she was doing to him, wanted her to be aware of the power she had over men. Women like her needed to know these things. He suspected she’d never been shown before.

  Such a pity.

  Durango had told him more about her than he’d let on. He knew about her time at Harvard, knew how smart she was. Knew she had a master’s degree, and that she’d been nearly done with her PhD when she quit. Durango hadn’t known why she quit, but he suspected it was someone from that part of her life who’d hired them to protect her. A former lover, he thought.

  The way she was responding to Axel right now, though, he wasn’t sure there’d ever been a lover. Her touch was hesitant, her kiss sweet. She was willing, but there was an innocence in the way she moved her body, the way she arched away from him instead of closer. Or was that just him hoping to find innocence in a world gone bitter?

  His last lover had constantly told him what to do, complaining when he didn’t touch her right or didn’t get her off quickly enough. It was a turnoff, being instructed in the middle of the act. Maybe he just wanted someone who was less demanding, less forceful.

  Or maybe he just liked the idea of taking advantage of this scared, sexy, isolated woman.

  He never claimed to be a saint.

  “You smell like spring,” he whispered near her ear before he slid over her, nibbling at her throat as she leaned back and moaned.

  She did smell of spring. Like strawberries and fresh air, like everything good about leave while he was in the military. He shrugged the blankets off his shoulders, the cold air sudden and frigid, but not nearly powerful enough to take away the heat they’d built underneath. He nibbled her ribs as she ran her hand over his head, pain flashing through him as she brushed his torn scalp.

  “Oh, hell, your head!” she gasped.

  “It’s nothing,” Axel said, moving back to her mouth to steal a kiss. “It looks worse than it really is.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “That’s supposed to be my line, isn’t it?”

  He kissed her roughly, possessing her mouth as his hand slipped down between her legs, brushing her swollen, moist lips. She grunted against him, lifting her hips slightly to encourage his touch. He pulled back rather than follow her instruction, teasing her with just the tips of his fingers moving close to that hot little button but not actually touching it. She grunted again, this time in frustration. But it was a good kind of frustration.

  He nibbled at her neck again, loving the taste of her skin, the sweetness of the lotion she used, the heat of her gorgeous skin. “I’m going to make you scream for it,” he whispered harshly against her neck as his fingertip brushed that button, as she thrust her hips up, ready for anything and everything he had to offer. He could smell her, could
smell how ready she was for him. And that made him ache deep in his balls, a need that couldn’t be satisfied easily.

  His fingers slipped inside of her as his mouth burned a path over her shoulder. She moaned, the sound like a salve on a burn. She loved his touch, and he loved offering it, the promise it made burning deep inside of him. Just a second more and—

  “Shh!”

  He pressed a hand to her mouth, silencing her moans as he twisted, listening closely for what he’d thought he’d heard. Fucking damn bad timing! He pulled away from her and crossed the room at a low crouch, snatching the shotgun from where she’d left it leaning against the wall.

  “What are you doing?”

  A plank of wood exploded near the doors like a punctuation to her words. Abigail screamed, throwing herself flat against the floor under the pile of blankets and clothing.

  “I know you’re in there, Abigail Rains!” a voice called from outside. “And I know you found him. You think he can save you, but I already got the best of him once. It won’t take much to do it again!”

  Axel crouched near the door, moving slowly toward the hole the hitman had conveniently placed there. He peeked out, searching the cold darkness for the predator. The moon was full in the sky, and it reflected off the whiteness of the snow like a lightbulb off a lampshade. But he couldn’t see him. Whoever this guy was, he knew what he was doing.

  “Enjoy your night, Abigail Rains!” the hitman called. “Tomorrow you die.”

  Axel rushed across the room to Abigail. She was still cowering under the blankets, but now she was crying tears that were as big as rain drops. Any doubts she might have had finally gone.

  “I won’t let him get you, Abbie,” he said, drawing her up into his arms. “You’re going to survive this.”

  “How?”

  He couldn’t answer that because he didn’t know.

  Chapter 13

  Rain Drop Farms

  Dressed again, Abigail stood between Axel’s legs so that she could get close enough to clean up his head wound. She’d found a pair of coveralls in one of the file cabinets that her grandfather had worn to work on the machinery. Her grandfather was a much smaller man than Axel, but it covered him to the waist and the blankets were keeping him warm enough where they hung over his shoulders.