Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2)

by Cari Quinn

  “All the reports I have show Keys is the name she goes by most often.”

  “When’s the last time you heard me use a nickname?”

  “Third of Never.” There was a hint of a burr reminiscent of Owen’s accent. My boss had spent a lot of time in Northern Ireland when he’d been a SEAL, and it slipped out when he was tired or super amused.

  I had a feeling amused was the reason behind the current slip.

  Why the hell was everyone so damn tickled about me and this assignment?

  I cleared my throat to get back on track. “I’ve been researching the band and working with Patrick on the more problematic fans that have been on their radar.”

  “Take her out of the house, Q.”

  I gripped the back of the chair and spun it. “Why?”

  “Because you need to see if someone’s following her. You need to do some recon.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I know you don’t, but at least you can control the outcome here while you guys are in the city. When the tour starts, the fans and security will be even harder to control.”

  “Don’t remind me.” I paced to the windows as dusk washed the hills in a slate blue. “I wish they’d call off the tour.”

  “You know people can’t live like that.”

  “I don’t know what the true threat level is.”

  “And it might have been a one-time thing.”

  “Could be,” I said, but I didn’t mean it. No one used Ketamine when they didn’t mean to kidnap someone. Another reason why I didn’t want to take her out of the damn house.

  All it took was someone bumping into her and a little stick and she could go down. There was nowhere in this godforsaken city that wasn’t overrun with people.

  “Take her out tomorrow, Quinn. That’s an order.”

  I fisted my hand and pressed it against the glass. “Fine.” I swallowed a growl. “Have you heard back from Carson about the glass?”

  “Yeah, he’s going to have it done while you guys are on tour. The house will be ready for their break in October.”

  “Good. Does he outsource the jobs?”

  “No, Blake is as much of a pain in the ass as you are. He has secure teams that work on the houses. He understands the security issues, Quinn. We’ll make sure the house is secure.”

  “I’m not worried about the glass. I’m worried about someone in the house that I don’t know.”

  “I requested a special team. The same one that worked on Lindsey York’s place out in the Canyon.”

  “That’ll have to do. I’ll do a sweep of the house when we get back before she’s brought in.”

  “You’re worse than I am, man. And Marcus says I’m a cynical bastard with a control problem.”

  “Yeah, well…no one’s getting kidnapped on my watch.”

  “Let’s keep it that way.”

  “Then I should keep her—”

  “No. You need to do some recon out of that damn house.”

  I clenched my jaw so tight my head was starting to throb.

  “Say it, Q.”

  “I’m taking her out tomorrow.”

  “Good. Send me the list from Patrick and I’ll have Lucy dig into the names.”

  “Will do.” At least that would be something. If there was dirt on anyone Lucy could find it. She was our resident hacker turned white hat. She was scary and amazing, and one of the few people I trusted to do research.

  I hung up with my boss and took one step before coming to a halt again.

  “No! You bastard!” Faith’s voice rose and ended in a burst of giggles. I was pretty sure I’d never heard her giggle in all the days we’d been together. Laugh, sure—she was naturally light-hearted.

  I left the office and followed the voices out into the dining room. There were two bowls of junk food between them—chips and something with the fake orange cheese that ended up on clothes and fingers like a radioactive cloud. Two bottles of wine were empty and a third was being uncorked as I walked in.

  A child’s game with manic-looking animals in primary colors was askew at the end of the table. In front of them was another game. Faith slapped a button gleefully and a geyser of black cards came at her.

  “No! Come on.” She gathered them with both hands until she had a mitt full of colorful cards. An alarming number of them were Wild Cards to boot. Uno on steroids. I remembered playing the game when I was a kid, but then it was just a tray that you flipped.

  Now, not so much.

  Owen had a similar handful of cards and his eyes were bloodshot with too much wine. He looked over Faith’s shoulder and noticed me. “Oops. We’re in trouble now, love.”

  She twisted around, the laughter in her eyes fading. “Here to ruin our fun, Warden?”

  I smiled tightly. I really hated that name. I hated that I had to keep her cooped up when it was obvious she was one of the most alive people I knew. “Was just wondering if you wanted a pizza?”

  She slapped her cards down. “Yeah?” She rushed over to a drawer near the fridge. “We’ve got three really good places.”

  “No.”

  She shut the drawer with a bang. “What do you mean, no?”

  “I’m making pizza.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re making pizza?”

  I nodded. Last grocery order, I’d added a few things that were more in Faith’s wheelhouse. We’d need to compromise on food, but at least I could do a few things to lessen her misery.

  Her nose wrinkled up. “I don’t want broccoli pizza or something gross like that.”

  I sighed. “Pepperoni and mushrooms sound good?”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” She crossed the room to me and dragged me into the kitchen. “I can help. We can help.”

  Owen came in with his glass of wine. “I could use the carbs. This one is trying to drink me under the table.”

  “Why don’t you two go back to your game and I’ll make a couple of pies, all right?”

  “Yeah? You sure?” Owen asked. “I can actually do the pizza thing. I throw a frozen one in the oven all the time.”

  “I’m making it fresh.”

  He cupped his hand over the top of his glass, skull ring flashing on his middle finger. The rest of them were tattooed with letters so it spelled out, love with the scull as the o. Interesting look. “Oh, well then. We’re getting fancy. Does that come with the bodyguard classes?”

  “Frozen dinners get old, man.”

  “And that’s why I usually go out to dinner every day.” He took his glass. “C’mon, darling, we have a game to finish. I intend to win this round.”

  Faith came around the island. “Only if you happen to have low cards for the next five hands.”

  “Five?” He tipped his head back. “Can we switch to Sorry?”

  She gathered the cards and started organizing them. I listened to them chatter on as I readied the dough and put the sauce together on the stovetop.

  “Breadsticks are up,” I called to the table.

  Faith came running over and groaned. “Garlic-a-licious, you beautiful man.” She snagged one out of the basket. “Hmm. I didn’t even know I had these baskets.”

  I smiled down at her. “Your kitchen is as close to a chef’s set up as I’ve ever seen outside of a restaurant.”

  She shrugged. “As I said, Tristan tricked it out. I think he used me as an excuse to buy toys to try out. He cooked for me for a week. It was fairly glorious.” She snuck over to the sauce and dipped the end of her bread in.

  “Hey!”

  She popped it into her mouth. “What? You saw nothing.” She broke off another and held it up to me. “Want?”

  My mouth watered. And not for the damn breadstick. “I’m good.”

  “Come on. You’re always denying yourself. It tastes so good. All buttery and perfect. Decadent and so bad for you.” Her eyes were soft with too much wine and happiness.

  Christ, she made me want.

  Sh
e held it closer to my mouth.

  “Faith.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Right. You said no. I forgot. It’s your favorite word.” She backed up and dunked it into the pot on the stove. “You’re missing out.”

  I moved to the stove and swallowed a groan. Oregano and spices should have overpowered the space. Instead, her peach scent was the only thing I noticed. I reached around her to a ladle and the little bowl I’d readied for dunking.

  She chewed, her lips shiny with butter. I held the bowl out for her. “Use this, huh?”

  “Right. You know it’s more fun to dunk in the pot, right?”

  “You’re going to get my sauce all greasy with the butter.”

  She dipped her finger into the bowl and licked sauce off her fingertip. “Wouldn’t want that.”

  “Go feed your friend.”

  “We’ll try not to fill up on the breadsticks.” She twirled around, grabbing the basket on her way by. “I have appetizers,” she said in her singsong way.

  “Excellent,” Owen said. “And I’m red by the way.”

  “I’m blue.”

  I listened to them trash talk each other over the game that was older than both of them combined. Oh, it was an updated version, but I was pretty sure my grandparents had played it. Or maybe that was Parcheesi.

  Either way it was a comforting sound.

  I could deal with that better than the music. Watching her hips sway and the bawdy, sultry voice that rolled out of such a tiny woman had nearly killed me. I kneaded the dough out a little too forcefully at the memory of her spinning around me earlier. So carefree and so defiant.

  The fact that I wanted to snatch her up and wrap those distractingly bare legs around my waist was the mother of all bad ideas. Heightened situations and forced proximity were the gateway to serious trouble.

  I wasn’t her type—never would be her type. If it wasn’t for the fact that I had to be in her space, she’d never give me a second thought. Hell, she wasn’t my ideal either. She was brash and bucked at even the idea of rules. There was no safe corner in her world.

  It was purely a physical response to her.

  I could ignore physical needs.

  I’d been ignoring them for the last year, ever since I’d enjoyed a mutually beneficial hour of stress relief with a woman after a charity ball. It had been a one day thing where Aidan had needed extra security personnel. Since I’d been between jobs and knew the layout of the Kennedy Center, I’d been a logical choice.

  There’d been some chatter about a possible sniper and I’d been using that particular woman’s balcony seats as a lookout. Being on that kind of high alert for hours, then not having any action had resulted in a one-night stand with an heiress from some Fortune 500 company. She liked the idea of danger, and I’d been alone too long.

  It had been sexual release, and that was it. Neither of us had wanted anything more than that moment and had parted ways with a, “Have a nice life”. Then I’d taken the ambassador job and had been too focused on deciphering the ins and outs of D.C. to think about getting involved with anyone.

  I wasn’t exactly the flirting kind, and usually attracted women who found my serious nature an attribute. The problem with that was I ended up with women who were just as serious about their careers as I was. Add in the fact that there was little time for socializing when my calendar was full of political functions, as well as an active family to watch out for, and in the end, relationships had always landed on the bottom of the list.

  Little moments like this, when I couldn’t ignore the pull of intangibles like chemistry, were the times I wondered how long I could do this job without making another mistake.

  I loaded the two pizzas into the oven and closed the door a little too hard. Faith turned in her seat and gave me a look over the rim of her wine glass.

  If it wasn’t Noah asking me for this favor, I would have requested a reassignment.

  Not only because Faith was a wild card in so many different respects, but because having any sort of emotions in this job was detrimental to the safety of the client.

  I stabbed the timer app on my phone and wished for a beer. Fuck, it was going to be a long night.

  13

  Keys

  I rolled over and buried my head under my pillow. What the hell was that banging? And why did my mouth taste like I’d made out with a clove of garlic?

  “Up and at ’em!”

  “Fuck off!” I muttered into my mattress.

  “You want to get out of this place, then shake your ass, Faith.”

  I flipped back my pillow. “What did you say?”

  “We’re going out.”

  I rolled off the side of my bed and stumbled. “Oh, fuck. No more wine.” I weaved my way to the door and swung it open. “What? Leaving? Really?”

  Quinn stood in the doorway, his standard cargo pants and Henley in place. “You keep ragging on about being stuck in here. So, we’re going out.”

  I pushed my hair out of my face. “Awesome. I’ll be ready in ten.” I blinked up at him. “Wait. Is Owen still here?”

  “Negative.”

  “Did you wake him up just as rudely?”

  He pursed his lips. “I may have opened the blinds in your guest room before he went to bed last night.”

  “You’re a cruel, cruel man.”

  “Did I not tell you to back off on the wine at two this morning?”

  “It was way too late at that point, Warden.”

  “It’s never too late to put the glass down. Get ready.” He walked down the hall to the stairs. “And brush your teeth. Twice.”

  I slapped my hand over my mouth. “Hateful,” I muttered and shut my door. Afraid that he would change his mind about actually leaving, I raced into my bathroom and took a five-minute shower. I would have skipped a shampoo except there was garlic coming out of every pore and it had traveled into my hair.

  Holy mercy, that boy put garlic in everything. It had tasted amazing, but good thing I hadn’t been kissing anyone last night.

  A quick flash of Quinn pressing his lips together when I’d tried to lure him into tasting my breadstick came out of nowhere.

  There were times when he was the most closed-off man on the planet. I had no freaking clue what he was thinking about ninety-five percent of the time. Then there were the other moments.

  The dangerous moments, when he seemed to be on the verge of…something. I didn’t know if it was shaking me, shooting me, or…other.

  I didn’t really want to think too much about the other.

  The other played tag with me in dreams. As I was running away from someone, then running to him. Obviously it was because he was guarding me. Every woman had fantasies about a strong, virile man playing hero to her damsel in distress. Even friends who were the most independent people I knew had one or two fantasies that included a rescue.

  When it came to Devon, my best friend, they were usually of the handcuff variety. But she was the exception to many rules. One of the reasons I loved her dearly. And missed her even more.

  I didn’t want to worry her while she was out of the country. I was going to catch hell for it, but I didn’t want to ruin her trip. She’d been saving for years to backpack her way around Ireland. My little drama would still be here when she got home.

  We’d actually coordinated our schedules so we had a few days together before my tour started up again. Tuesday. Just a few more days under the warden’s rule and then I’d have Devon in my corner. Two feisty women against one man was more way more fun.

  Until then, I had to deal with him on my own.

  I quickly parted my hair and did two messy half-braids so my wavy hair wouldn’t run wild. I didn’t have time to dry it properly. Not if I wanted to make sure Quinn definitely didn’t change his mind.

  I slipped on a few rings because I felt naked without them, my favorite hoop earrings, and a trio of necklaces. After a quick dash of blush, gloss, and mascara so I didn’t look like a teenager next to M
r. Silver Temples, I ran for my closet.

  “Faith! Is this your idea of ten minutes?”

  What? Was he honestly so literal? A girl’s ten minutes was not actually ten minutes, for fuck’s sake. “Two minutes,” I hollered through the door. I dropped my robe and struggled into my bra. Dammit, my skin was still damp.

  I snapped the strap into place and dragged on a Clash T-shirt, my favorite jeans, and my red Chucks. My lightweight leather jacket finished the look. I might have to be quick, but shit, I still could look cute. The cameras were always around.

  Especially now.

  I was halfway down the hall when I turned back around for a pair of sunglasses. Just in case the paparazzi really were out en masse, I didn’t need to look like a deer caught in headlights. It was bad enough I’d made headlines at Hunter’s wedding.

  It was supposed to be his day—Kennedy’s day.

  Instead, everyone was talking about how I’d almost gotten…what? Kidnapped? Drugged? Murdered?

  No one knew.

  I took a deep breath as I got to the bottom of the stairs.

  No one really knew.

  I’d been trying so hard to believe that it was just a fluke. But what if it wasn’t? I clutched the wall as I paused on the second-to-last stair. I wasn’t going to let fear rule me, dammit. I lifted my chin and took the last few steps.

  “What are we waiting for?” I put on my shades and headed for the door.

  “Hold up.”

  I held up my arms. “Right. You first. Age before beauty.”

  He slid his hand behind his back and I heard the slide of his gun into his holster. What had I expected? That he wasn’t going to carry a weapon? I knew he had a gun. I’d seen his shoulder holster the first day he’d come into my house.

  But not this? Not at the base of his spine.

  That was new.

  He pulled down a button-down denim shirt over his faded gray Henley. He wore black cargos today. All of it made him look tanner, more unapproachable, and way more badass.

  I swallowed as he put mirrored aviators on.

  Why did he have to be so attractive? I could handle a paunchy ex-cop, or even a lantern-jaw marine-looking dude, but not an Alex O’Loughlin stunt double. The wrongness was beyond wrong.