Guardian For Hire: A For Hire Novel

by Christine Bell

  And now it’s finally rubbed off on you. The thought was almost as scary as the person trying to kill her.

  “This will be yours,” Gavin said as he opened a drawer and laid an ominous-looking black gun between them on the oak desk. “There’s a holster attachment on those pants.” He nodded in the direction of her hips, and she tried not to show him how badly her hand was shaking as she picked up the pistol.

  Apparently, her new persona was going to be initiated through trial by fire. Literally.

  “Don’t worry, it’s not loaded. Just something to keep anybody who might want to come near you on their toes.”

  “At eight in the morning?”

  “Trust me to handle things at exactly the right moment, and we’ll do fine.”

  His matter-of-fact words brought back the shuddering memory of him tackling her an instant before her car exploded into a fireball. She couldn’t argue that timing seemed to be a strong suit.

  “Okay, then. You’re the boss.” And I’m the bait, she added, swallowing hard to try and muster up her courage.

  I’m a warrior. I’m a survivor. She played the words over and over in her head, trying desperately to overpower her other, more natural mantra. I’m terrified. I look ridiculous. And the other, most quiet and yet more powerful internal reminder: I could die, and aside from Lindy, no one would really give a crap.

  “Right then, no time to waste. Let’s go.” He stood and walked toward the door, cool as if they were headed to the grocery store.

  When they’d run the gamut of alarm-setting and door-locking and had finally settled in the car, she got up her nerve to ask him. “So…what are we going to be doing?” Clearly, she didn’t hide her fear as well as she hoped, because he grinned.

  “Don’t worry. It’s your first day. We’re going to take things nice and slow.” He glanced at her for a second before concentrating on the road again.

  She swallowed hard, wondering why she could feel her heart beating in every cell of her body. Blood was rushing in her ears. Her hands were shaking. She’d be thankful if she didn’t simply pass out by the time they got wherever they were going. “Doing what?”

  He considered her for a moment, examining her in the reflection of his visor mirror. “Simple security check.”

  That didn’t seem so bad. Check some perimeters, probably look at some cameras, make sure they were functioning, see if the footage was clear maybe. It was like security preschool. That would be some relief from all the stress, a way to ease into handling the crisis that was so suddenly thrust upon her. Not to mention, give her something else to think about besides her impending death. Maybe she’d find something Gavin didn’t see, and he’d be impressed by how observant she was. By the time she emerged from her daydreams, though, she realized that he was parking in a crowded lot adjoining a strip mall.

  “Are we stopping in to—” She glanced at the names of the shops. “Very Clean Chicken Shack?” She wrinkled her nose, but when he popped the car into park and got out, she followed suit.

  “That place has the best red beans and rice in town, but unfortunately we’re not here for food. Get ready for your first lesson. We’ve got a job to do, and sometimes it’s easier to hide in a crowd than in perceived seclusion. Lots of cars here, people coming in and out.” He ambled over to the stores, toting a large black briefcase he pulled from the backseat along with him, and she followed close behind, trying to catch what he was saying. Really, this first pro tip of his seemed like a lesson in the obvious.

  “Okay, then. So are we testing this mall’s security?” She eyed the Duds and Suds bar/Laundromat warily.

  “No, there’s a chain-link fence behind these shops. Once we scale that, we’ll be in a gated community.”

  She blinked rapidly. Scale that? He said it as if it was no big thing. She’d never been much of a climber. Between the designer outfits her grandmother always made her wear and her innate fear of ever breaking the rules, climbing anything—be it tree, rock, or fence—had been pretty much out of the question. But it was probably no big deal, really. They’d see how stable an enclosure was, high five all around, and then head home to make sure nobody made any more attempts on her life. That seemed like a fair enough deal. “All right, then.”

  They crunched over some fallen twigs and rounded the back of the strip mall. Less than a minute later, the fence in question came into view, and she wished she could stuff every stupid word back into her mouth. The thing stood more than twice as tall as Gavin, probably at a solid fifteen feet, and above the chain there were spirals of long, sharpened barbed wire.

  “Right then, here we are.” He opened his briefcase and shuffled around its contents without sparing her a glance.

  She peered over his shoulder, her stomach in knots. “Oh my gosh. Is that a grappling hook?” Anxiety bubbled in her stomach, threatening the back of her throat. “I didn’t agree to grappling.” Already her words were raspier than she would have liked, but she cleared her throat, remembering again that she wasn’t Sarabeth Lucking in that moment. She was Sarah Lockwood, experienced kick-butt security gal. She could do this.

  He barked his loud, deep laugh and put the grappling hook back in his bag. “I just brought that to see what you’d do. No…what was it? ‘Grappling’ for us today.”

  He winked and she stewed. She’d gone out of her way to be nice and apologize for being difficult, and he was making no attempt to meet her halfway. She should have known better. Today was clearly going to be like every other experience she’d had with him. Complicated and frustrating to the point of insanity.

  No matter how that deep laugh of his resonated through her. No matter that being around him made her feel strangely calmer, despite the situation. No matter what, he’d still be the same brute he’d been before, and in that respect she’d always be the same old Sarabeth Lucking.

  “Actually, we’ll be using this.” He unfurled a long strip of carpet from his bag and handed it to her. “Curl the carpet around the barbed wire as you climb over. It will protect you from getting hurt. When you’re done, throw the carpet back over the fence so that I can go next.”

  She stared at the rug like it was a bowl of maggots. “What if there’s a guard on the other side? Am I going to get shot or something?”

  He gave her the dead eyes. “Do you honestly think I’ve spent the last two days driving all over kingdom come to get you and bring you here under my protection so I could turn around and throw you over a guarded fence to get shot?”

  Use some common sense, Sarabeth. She shook her head. “No, no, I—”

  “My company is being paid to do this,” he said with an impatient sigh. “The development is new, so the only house in use is the one the developer built for himself. He wants to make sure security is top-of-the-line so he can get a premium price for each house. I promise, you’re perfectly safe.”

  He threw the dirty white carpet toward her, and she caught it reluctantly, biting her lip before she squared her shoulders and started up the gate one link at a time. She dared not glance down, careful to focus on the task at hand. As she wrapped the rug remnant around the wire, she heard Gavin’s voice, more soothing than gruff, assuring her.

  “You can do it, Doc. You’re doing great.”

  He repeated it over and over until she’d gotten to the other side and was staring at him through the chain links. Her pulse was still pounding as she dropped lightly to her feet, elation coursing through her. She did it.

  “Thank you. For the coaching.” Heat rushed to her cheeks, but she said it all the same. It was a strange experience for her to have someone rooting her on, supporting her. New. And she kind of liked it.

  His gaze met hers for an instant before he shook his head and grunted. “Yeah, no problem. Toss the carpet over. We’re on a tight schedule for this one.”

  She ignored the niggle of disappointment at his abruptness, worked up all of her might, and flung the carpet as high as she could. It was too high and too far—it sailed dow
n to snag on the high branch of an oak tree beside the fence.

  So much for her big moment. She’d botched it up after all. She swallowed back her disappointment and locked gazes with Gavin. “Do you still have that grappling hook?”

  To his credit, he didn’t blink. He slung his bag over his shoulder, muttered under his breath, “Right then, plan B,” and started up the fence with the agility of a cat, clinging to each link with precision. When he reached the top, he supported his weight with one hand and a foothold and pulled a new tool from his Mary Poppins–style survival bag. Wire cutters.

  He made quick work of snipping the barbed wire before vaulting over the top of the fence and landing in a crouch at the bottom.

  Her mouth was agape, and she snapped it shut, torn between annoyance and awe. That was majorly badass, but…

  “Seriously? Why did I have to deal with the carpet when we could have cut the wire?” Her hands balled into fists, and it was all she could do to keep her voice down to a whisper.

  “A well-prepared criminal would have a backup plan. Besides, how would you ever learn anything if I always let you take the path of least resistance?”

  She stared at him. “You realize I’m not actually your protégé, right?” she reminded him. “This is all just a front.”

  “And the more we commit to it, the safer you’ll be. Now let’s move.” He raised an eyebrow before sprinting ahead of her and motioning for her to follow. Crouching down to match him, she hustled past a row of houses with fenceless yards toward the stone mansion that sat on the very far side of the community. Stone lions sat outside a wrought iron gate while the rest of the house was flanked with tall, green bushes. It looked sort of familiar, not unlike Gavin’s fortress.

  Stopping beside the left retaining wall, he crouched and waited for her to join him. “This is our target. All we need to do is get over these bushes, then the real fun begins.”

  “You’re sure that these don’t qualify as trees?” She strained her neck to see over them, but the tall shrubs were practically impenetrable, a wall of green. She reached out to touch a branch, but he caught her wrist an instant before she’d made contact.

  “Hold on there.” He took a small metal device from his briefcase and threw it into the bush. There was a soft clicking sound, then a muted hum that she had barely registered halted, and the place was entrenched in complete silence.

  “The greenery is fake. It’s a sensored fence.” He turned over the frond she’d been about to touch. “See the underside of these ferns? No red spots. Dead giveaway.”

  “That’s a dead giveaway?” Forget the fact that she’d almost blown the whole mission, how could anyone have noticed such a minute detail?

  “Well, sometimes it’s literally a dead giveaway. Bunnies tend to find these types of things more often than people and sometimes chew through the wiring and get zapped.”

  “So is it safe to climb now?” she asked.

  “Should be.” He nodded, lending half a shrug to his attempt at convincing her. Comforting. “I deactivated the sensors with that little scrambling device. Just don’t try to chew through it.”

  She bit back her response and followed his lead as they both made quick work of the fake shrubbery, climbing over the lower hanging ones and scuttling under the larger ones. By the time they got to the other side, her kick-ass clothes were streaked with dirt and grass. A familiar bubble of nerves surfaced as she swiped at stains. Grandmother wasn’t there to look down her nose and scold her because she’d gotten her clothes dirty. She was a damned grown-up, and the fact that those feelings still surfaced at times was infuriating.

  She dropped her hands and let the dirt stay exactly where it was. As she clenched her fist, she wondered how calloused Gavin’s fingers and palms must have been after years in special ops. After only one fence and a wall of fake greenery, every inch of her hands was angry, red, and sore, having been pinched and prodded in every way possible. But when he whispered her name, she snapped back to attention, prepared to prove herself a worthy soldier. He was peering around a corner, and it was another long moment before he spoke again.

  “The storm cellar is two yards ahead. You ready?” She nodded before he continued. “On my six, and pay attention.”

  On his six. She knew that one. That meant get directly behind him. Her blood hummed with excitement as she followed his lead, sprinting alongside the stone monstrosity. A half a minute later, he stopped in his tracks, running a hand over a crack in the wall. He crouched down and pushed a particularly worn stone, and a man-size opening appeared.

  She stared at it in awe. It was like something straight out of a James Bond movie. Her grandparents were wealthy and had some pretty serious security, but this was unreal. Gavin shimmied inside, almost too large to make it at all. Still, he moved with a deftness she wouldn’t have thought such a large man was capable of and waved her in behind him. She stepped in, sucking in a deep breath. Her first B&E. She was officially now a badass.

  The dank, earthy smell hit her, and she tried not to panic as the door closed behind them, plunging the tiny, empty room into total darkness. Almost as if he’d read her mind, Gavin switched on a light on his belt, and a soft glow lit their surroundings.

  “You’ve got one, too. The buckle has an embedded light.” He reached toward her and pressed the round, metal fastener. His fingers brushed her stomach as he pulled away, and a thrill surged through her.

  “Thanks.” She felt half an urge to switch her light back off. First, to quell the irrational desire for him to touch her again, and second to veil the red that was assuredly painting her cheeks.

  He turned away before she could think too hard on either and navigated them toward the wooden stairs leading to the main level. Before setting foot on the first step, Gavin turned to her and whispered, “We need to get to the second-floor office. Quick and quiet. That’s our motto, got it?”

  She nodded, but he didn’t bother keeping his attention on her long enough to notice. Instead, he climbed the stairs and eased the door open before giving her a silent go-ahead.

  She set foot on the first floor and that’s when she heard it. The alarm. A long, low series of foghorn noises on repeat. It was faint but certainly present. Her heart leaped, and despite Gavin’s assurances, already she was picturing herself, face plastered across the television again. This time she’d be the criminal instead of the crime.

  Infamous Doctor Sarabeth Lucking hits rock bottom, busted for breaking and entering.

  She could practically hear her grandparents now.

  Instinctively, she plastered herself around Gavin, hiding behind him for whatever was about to happen. His muscles tensed beneath her hand and he cupped it for an instant before pulling away gently. “That’s an alarm clock. You know that, right? Someone must have set it and forgotten it.”

  She cleared her throat, peeling her limbs from around his with a dignity that even she knew was fake. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”

  They crept down the hall side by side, and she was careful not stare at him too long, but no matter how hard she tried, she still felt like the air was too thin. Like she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Maybe it was the high-pressure situation, or the rush of adrenaline that was pulsing through her. And maybe it wasn’t, her mind countered as she eyed his masculine profile. What was it about seeing a man in his element, so in control, so capable, that got a woman’s pulse pounding?

  Get it out of your head, missy. He was a novelty, for sure, and she owed him big-time, but they were oil and water. Besides, the idea of him ever looking at her that way was beyond laughable. If there was one thing he’d made clear, it was that he didn’t like their predicament any more than she did.

  …

  This was shaping up to be the hardest post-service mission of his life. Literally. And that was saying something. He’d broken into mobsters’ homes, fought off guard dogs, and set up a safe house for the feds, but this? Watching the doc’s eyes go all hot and excited, pressing h
er sweet, soft curves against him? Listening to her as they moved through the house, her catchy little breaths that could so easily be mistaken for something else?

  Pure torture. If he was even one iota less of a gentleman, he’d have already suggested that they test out the strength of that staircase with some healthy sexual exertion.

  When they reached the top of said staircase, relief flooded through him. They were almost out of here, and he could get some much needed space and fresh air.

  He paused, one foot on the landing as the skin on his arms prickled. It had all gone so easily…without a single hitch. Too easy? He stepped gingerly onto the gleaming hardwood floor, his whole body on high alert, every muscle tense and at the ready as he approached the room at the far end of the hall. Sarabeth trailed behind him, probably wanting to keep her distance after their tense and unintentional embrace. It was better that way, considering the fact that he still had a raging hard-on even thinking about her pressed against him.

  His plan had totally backfired. He’d hoped to drive the wedge between them even deeper by throwing her out of her comfort zone, but so far, rather than really pissing her off, in spite of her protests, she’d seemed like she was having the time of her life. A sort of heat had filled her eyes after she’d crossed over that fence, and from that point on it had been as though she was an entirely different person. She’d climbed and sprinted like an old pro, and as much as he wanted to goad her and push her away, he couldn’t make the words come. He was fucking proud of her.

  She wasn’t even the same woman he’d met two days ago. It was curious.

  And sexy.

  He shoved the unwanted thought away, reaching for the door handle of the room at the end of the hall, but a whisper caught his attention before he gripped the cool, polished metal.

  “Gavin,” Sarabeth tugged furiously at his sleeve. “It’s a booby trap.”