Guardian For Hire: A For Hire Novel

by Christine Bell

  Halfway down the hall, she noticed a door ajar. A sliver of light cracked through, beckoning her to enter. She paused and glanced around before looking back at the open door. Gavin was a security guy. Anything he wanted hidden would be impossible to find, and if he specifically didn’t want her to go in there, he wouldn’t have left the door open. She swiped her damp palms on her jeans and braced herself as she toed the door open. Given all the rigmarole involved in getting into the house, she’d be shocked if there wasn’t a retinal exam and an anal probe just to cross the threshold. But nothing happened. The hardwood floor didn’t even squeak as she walked over it into the spacious room.

  It was warmer than the rest of the house, both in temperature and feel. The walls were a deep red, and the wall-length windows and king-size bed were both covered in red-and-chocolate fabric. Obviously, the master suite. Still, the furniture was as sparse as hers had been. The bed frame was simple, and across from it sat a wide oak dresser with an enormous mirror hanging above it. A lone photograph sat on the dresser. Aside from that, the room was devoid of decoration.

  She walked toward the photo and picked up the simple gold frame. It was a picture of Gavin, noticeably a few years younger—maybe twenty-five or so, and the white scar she’d noted on his collarbone was freshly bandaged. His hair was the same, but his smile looked easier, his shoulders obviously more relaxed. Genuinely happy.

  Beside him was a woman about the same age, wearing a military uniform that matched his own. If Sarabeth were to imagine a person who looked like her opposite in every way, it would have been the woman in the picture. A shock of red curls framed her heart-shaped face, and she stood a good foot and a half shorter than Gavin. Where his smile was easy and good-natured, hers was blinding, her eyes squinting in her mirth, her toned arm wrapped casually around Gavin’s midsection.

  Sarabeth’s stomach cramped, a twinge of envy coiling through her. Obviously, this woman was his girlfriend or fiancée. Not that she cared. In fact, it was better this way. Safer. All those funny feelings she’d managed to ignore up until now were nothing but trouble, and this was the perfect reason to continue ignoring them.

  She set down the picture with a sigh but paused when she spotted a piece of paper stuck to the dresser beneath it. She tugged it gently, and the tape came loose with ease. She hesitated for a split second before reading the feminine scrawl:

  Gav,

  Christ on a cracker, is your house atrocious. If it had even an ounce less character, it could run for political office. I left you this picture so that at least you can remember there’s one shining beacon of beauty in this world—me. Oh, and I put the other stuff I found in the spare room dresser in your sock drawer. Seriously, dude, do you have no concept of houseguest protocol? You don’t leave stuff like that lying around. I’m going to have nightmares for years to come.

  Maddy

  She glanced back at the photo and jealousy crawled over her skin again. So maybe not girlfriend or fiancée, but they were obviously close and she looked exactly like the kind of woman Gavin would go for. Tough, edgy. A 10 a.m., luscious-crepes-followed-by-bedroom-calisthenics kind of girl. The antithesis of 6 a.m.-run-followed-by-half-a-grapefruit Sarabeth.

  She let the thought go as another took control of her newly devious brain. It was wrong. That went without saying. But there was no way in hell she wasn’t checking out the sock drawer to see what Maddy had hidden there. With a quick glance at the clock next to the bed—still twenty-five minutes before he returned—she inched open the long, thin drawer at the top of the dresser, blood pounding in her ears. Maybe it was twisted, but even with all the terrible stuff going on and with her life in danger, some part of her had never felt so alive as she had since leaving with Gavin.

  She held her breath and then glanced down, excitement and nerves coalescing. A pile of socks, some black, some white, folded in military precision stared up at her. Her shoulders slumped as the adrenaline faded. He must have moved what Maddy had left for him. She went to shut the drawer again, but the light caught on something buried beneath the rows of black socks.

  She dug to the bottom of the drawer, heart pounding, and pulled up the hidden treasure—a gleaming set of silver handcuffs. A shiver went through her as she imagined him closing them over her wrists. Her cheeks went hot, and she shook her head. “Stop it,” she murmured. She was reading into things. He was a security officer. Really, it only made sense that he’d have handcuffs in his house, even if having them lying around his bedroom was a little suggestive. But then something else caught her eye. A swatch of color beneath all the black and white. She plucked up the cloth stared at it nonplussed for a few seconds until the web of intricate strings and lace began to make sense. Crotchless women’s panties. Size five.

  A leftover from his last sleepover? Yep, edgy women were definitely his style. She thought of her own staid pink boy-cut underwear and winced. Yet another to add to the growing list of reasons why she should be more diligent about mixing up feelings of gratitude and feelings of attraction. She was a psychologist. She knew better than anyone how easy it was for people to bond in emotionally taut situations like theirs. Now if she could only keep that in mind the next time he walked around without his shirt on, they’d be good to go.

  She closed the drawer without another glance and made for the door, not wanting to see more evidence of the active life he’d enjoyed before she’d darkened his doorstep. As she crossed the hallway back to her room, no matter how she tried, she couldn’t shake the comparison between herself and the women Gavin clearly consorted with. Maybe she wasn’t a sexpot or anything, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be a badass.

  She stepped back into her room and held up her new uniform. Sure, it was going to be tight, but it was also going to make her look like some kind of bounty hunter or something. The idea sent thrills of anticipation running up her spine. Like being a kid on Halloween night again, feeling like she really was a Disney princess. And playing dress-up had never killed anybody, right?

  She stripped out of her clothes and pulled on the uniform, a nervous jiggle in her stomach as she wriggled into the fitted shirt. Blowing out a breath, she turned to eye herself in the mirror. Imagine that. Overall it was…well, kind of kick-ass. With some combat boots and one of those ninja-style headbands, she’d look exactly like someone out of an action movie.

  She posed in the mirror, jutting out her hip and pressing her thumbs and forefingers together to make a literal handgun. Then she spread her feet hip-width apart and pointed the imaginary gun at herself in the mirror.

  “You feeling lucky, punk?” She stared herself down hard before cocking her make-believe pistol. “I’m going to take you down. Town. Real low. Like…to the station. Yeah.” She nodded at herself, pouting her lips.

  Her pretend foe would have none of it, though, so she began shooting. “Pyew, pyew,” she whispered, every shot hitting her squarely in the chest.

  Maybe she could work with this look after all.

  …

  “You look like shit,” Maddy observed drily, tossing a pile of files onto the desk in his office.

  Gavin glanced up to see his business partner staring down at him, the concern in her eyes at odds with her usual ball-breaking tendencies.

  He’d almost finished reading the couple reports she’d sent him while he was gone when she’d called and said she wanted to stop by. Against his better judgment, he agreed. There was no question he was in for a grilling, but better here than at work. Maddy was the most trustworthy person he knew, but she was also nosy and couldn’t resist the urge to butt into his life whenever possible. He blew out a sigh and speared a hand through his hair.

  “I had a rough weekend.”

  “Good rough?” She waggled her auburn brows. “Or bad rough?” She didn’t wait for him to offer her a seat, sliding into the leather chair facing him.

  “Bad rough.” He picked up the file on top and opened it, skimming the new client information on the cover page before
turning his attention back to Maddy.

  “So where is she?” She peered around the room and then under the desk before turning wide, innocent eyes on him. “Thought you weren’t letting her out of your sight?”

  “Don’t be a wiseass. I said I want to keep her close.” He pursed his lips and tried to look stern. “I know you’re not on board, but I need you to do as I said and go along with telling anyone who might ask that Sarabeth is a friend of the family and that she’s going to be working with me for a while.”

  Maddy blew out a sigh and nodded. “Like I said before, I think you’re overreacting, but I’m not going to say no and then have her blown up on my account. Be aware, though”—she held up a hand and narrowed her eyes at him—“this does not make you the boss of me. I’m doing you a favor. Plus, Rita could probably use some help with the files, and there is some backlog with the billing department, so maybe data entry…”

  He shook his head. She wasn’t going to like this part. “Nope. We need eyes on her at all times when she’s not at the house. She’ll be with me, shadowing on security runs and whatnot.”

  Maddy crossed her trim legs, her killer boot heels almost as threatening as her thunderous expression. “The buck stops there. I’m not fucking babysitting, Gav,” she started, but he held up a hand before she got a full head of steam going.

  “Nobody is asking you to. This is my obligation to Owen, and I’ll take care of everything. It will only be for a few weeks, tops, and I’ll keep her out of your hair.”

  She eyed him hard.

  “I swear to God.”

  “Okay. A few weeks then.” She tilted her head in a stiff nod. “Do I get to meet this precious flower? Where is she now?”

  “Upstairs, I’m guessing. I gave her the run of the house while I was gone, but she’s not really the exploring type.”

  “Sounds like a blast already.” Maddy yawned.

  “I’ll go get her.” He stood and then headed up the two flights of stairs to the top floor of the house. Sarabeth’s room was at the far end of the hall, the door slightly ajar. As he approached, he heard her muffled, low voice.

  “You looking at me? Are you looking at me?”

  His heart kicked it up to double time, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He slid a hand to rest on the Sig in his holster and crept closer to the door. Had someone managed to get to her here? In his house, where he’d promised her protection? His stomach cramped as he peered through the narrow crack in the door.

  “Pyew pyew!”

  What the fuck? Sarabeth stood facing the full-length mirror. Her back was to him, her body angled so that she was pointing a gun she’d made with her fingers directly at her reflection.

  “Take that, fool,” she spat.

  He tried to hold it in, but the crack of laughter burst out, and she whipped around to face him with neck-breaking speed, her cheeks hot pink. But the way she looked, the fitted black clothes clinging to her thighs, the sleek top hugging her perfect breasts? That cut off his laughter in one hell of a hurry, and instead he was choking on his own shock.

  The outfit from the day before had been eye-opening, but this look on that body was beyond anything he could have imagined. She was packing heat and that gun was fully loaded.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he managed. “But can you point that thing away from me?” He gestured to her hand, and her cheeks went even redder. “I don’t like having a gun in my face.”

  To her credit, she raised her chin and holstered her “weapon” with the grace of a queen. ”I was…I do community theater. So I had to practice. For our play.”

  “Play?” He dragged his gaze away from her smoking-hot body to meet her eyes.

  “Yep, The Big Stupid Idiot. Neil Simon, you know.” She nodded, pressing her lips into a thin line and sucking in a deep breath.

  She was turning into quite the accomplished little liar, even if her face did give it all away. Given his current state of befuddlement at her chilly beauty morphing into red-hot sexiness literally overnight, he opted not to call her on it. They both had something they were trying to hide. Might as well leave it even steven.

  “Yeah, well, I wanted to go over some things with you. So get your stuff and we’ll get started.” He could hear the gruffness in his voice, but she seemed grateful for the change of subject and snapped to attention, collecting her shoes with a solemn nod.

  “Right, of course. Lead the way.”

  She followed him back down to the basement, and he asked her to wait outside until he gave her the go-ahead. Closing the door behind him, he gave Maddy a cool, appraising stare, but she didn’t bother glancing up from her newspaper. Instead, she said, “Unless you’ve got some kind of X-ray vision and are trying to locate a tumor, stop looking at me like that.”

  “Be nice, okay? It’s important for Owen.”

  Maddy rolled her eyes. “I’m the nicest person you know.”

  “No, you’re not. Lindy is the nicest person I know, and the rest of my associates are ex-Special Forces, mercenaries, and criminals.”

  She buffed her nails on her pants and didn’t reply.

  “Maddy?”

  She groaned and slumped in her chair before nodding. “Fine. You have my solemn oath. You need a blood seal or something or are we good now?”

  “We’re good.” He opened the door for Sarabeth, and she stepped into the room.

  She paused, mid-step, fingers tugging at her top, when her gaze caught on Maddy. “Oh, hello. I didn’t realize there was someone else here. I can…?” She stopped fiddling with her neckline and gestured toward the door with a polite smile.

  Maddy’s face lit with mirth as she turned to face him. “Ah, yes. You were correct, Gavin. Your protégé does appear to be very…qualified.”

  Her pointed smirk wasn’t lost on him, and he wished he could defend himself without Sarabeth catching on. Sure, the doc looked hot in her second-skin black gear, but to be fair, he never would have guessed she’d fill them out so well, and he’d taken on the case before then.

  “Hi.” Maddy stood and stuck out a hand. “I’m Maddy Saunders, Gavin’s partner at McClintock and Saunders. Welcome aboard.”

  Sarabeth took her hand and shook it. “I’m…Sara Lockwood.”

  Good. He hadn’t reminded her, or warned her that Maddy was going to be there, and she’d remembered to use her cover.

  Maddy eyed her hard and pressed her. “Gavin says you want to be a PI? What type of work did you do before this?”

  It was a reasonable question, given that she was in her late twenties rather than a kid fresh out of school, but one that he hadn’t given any thought to. He’d been so worried about covering their tracks, he hadn’t gotten to creating a full dossier for her yet. Leave it to Maddy to see if Sarabeth had her backstory memorized before they introduced her to the rest of the staff.

  “I went to culinary school but realized it wasn’t my forte,” Sarabeth responded smoothly.

  The lie rolled off so easily, he found himself staring at her. She was always so flustered whenever he asked her anything or talked to her and until now, he would’ve cited her as the worst liar in history. Now, five seconds into meeting Maddy, she was confident and together and had all the answers. He’d have to take some notes.

  Maddy’s eyes lit with grudging respect, and he knew he wasn’t the only one who was impressed. “Not bad. If you can keep that up, you’ll do fine. If you have any questions, I’m sure Gavin can handle them. See you around.”

  Maddy crossed the floor and let herself out, but not before she caught Gavin’s gaze and bit down on her knuckle exaggeratedly in the universal sign for “hot damn, she’s a looker.” He ignored her and turned to face Sarabeth as she padded across the gray carpet to stand in front of his desk, a frown marring her face.

  “She hates me.”

  “No, she doesn’t. She hates me right now,” he clarified, picking up the next file. “She thinks I’m going to dump you on her.” And possibly, that I’m trying
to get in your pants.

  “I’m sorry for that. I can imagine you’re not thrilled about your routine being disrupted.”

  She sounded miserable, and he pretended to read the papers he held in his hand rather than glancing at her. Partly because he didn’t want to see her sadness, partly because he didn’t trust himself not to stare at her cleavage. “No problem.”

  She sank to the visitor’s chair and leaned closer until he had no choice but to turn his attention to her.

  “I know it’s a problem. I know all of this has been a problem, and I’m sorry. I’m going to stop. My behavior has been unacceptable. From now on, you’re the boss, and I’m going to make your life as easy as possible.”

  He held her gaze, trying not to let the soft green eyes draw him in, but damned if he could stop it. The newly darkened hair was the perfect foil for them, and his thoughts drifted to witches and spells for an instant. The only thing keeping him from flipping the desk to the side to get closer to her was the constant bickering between them. If that was gone?

  He’d end up in a little town called Fucked.

  Close enough to keep an eye on, far enough to continue keeping her at arm’s length. If he wanted to stay clearheaded and effective, he needed to keep her annoyed enough to create a separation between them, and annoying enough to keep him from wanting to bridge the gap. So he did it the only way he knew how.

  “We’ve got a job to do, and you’re going to help me.”

  Chapter Seven

  A job. Well, that wouldn’t be so hard with him around. Besides, it would give her the opportunity to prove to him that she wasn’t the flimsy, crying mess he’d met the day before. No, she was a warrior. Like Maddy. Like him. Her thoughts were instantly drawn back to her Finger Pistol Patty impression, and she winced. No way he’d bought her community theater excuse. She’d nabbed that one from Lindy, who’d told Owen the same thing early on in their relationship after an ill-fated fifties movie star impression. It hadn’t worked for her either, and Sarabeth knew things were going badly if she was looking to Lindy for inspiration. She loved her dearly, but she was a total nutball sometimes.