by Casey Hagen
Tears sprang to her eyes she curled her fingers into his flesh, holding on tight, and prayed with everything she had to the Great Spirit, to God, to whoever would listen, that Slyder be safe.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” Slyder smoothed a hand over her hair and whispered to her as the sounds faded away into the distance.
She drew in a ragged breath and loosened her grip to run her hands over him. “Were you hit?” she asked.
“No,” he said, pushing himself out of the bushes and reaching for her. He broke branches to keep her from getting further scratched as she worked her way out.
Getting her balance, she dug her foot back into the sneaker that had popped partially off her foot. Taking a tentative step, the throbbing in her hip reared its ugly head.
Skyler reached for her hip and gingerly peeled back her yoga pants. The red, angry skin beneath oozed. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ll be okay.” She waved off his concern and rocked back and forth to loosen up.
His eyebrows snapped low over his eyes, two angry slashes. She wanted to run her fingers over them.
“And you’ll stay that way as long as I’m here. No more walks,” he said.
“You don’t think they were aiming for me, do you? It could have been an accident.”
“I don’t know, and as long as I don’t we don’t go out for walks. Now, let’s get you back and get that cleaned up.” He bent to tuck an arm behind her knees.
“I know you’re not going to try to pick me up,” Nebraska said as a warning.
He froze and looked up at her. “Well, I was.”
“Don’t,” she snapped. She didn’t want to be babied. He’d protected her, it was enough, but the idea of him picking her up was too close to helplessness.
“Your hip—”
She brushed her pants and willed her heartrate to slow. “Is bruised, and I imagine you have a few of your own. Besides, we’ll make it back faster if you’re not carrying me.”
His mouth snapped shut.
She’d finally made a point he hadn’t a chance of successfully arguing against.
Go her.
Chapter 4
Slyder had screwed up. Less than twenty-four hours on the job and he was kissing the client he had promised Dylan he’d protect. He’d been so wrapped up in the way she fit just right in his arms, the way her mouth tasted under his, the hint of pineapple an intoxicating flavor on her full, pretty lips, that he hadn’t seen the car careening out of control until it was almost too late.
He’d gotten the license plate—his knack for noticing number and letter patterns, even when he only had a quick glimpse, working for him in this case.
Because he sure as hell had better not confess to Dylan that he’d been distracted and then not be able to give him something he could work with.
Not only would Dylan chew his ass, but he’d tell Evan and Cole, and between the three of them they’d never let Slyder hear the end of that shit.
He held Nebraska’s hand, keeping her to the inside of the sidewalk, his eyes scanning around them every second until they passed back through that gate.
“Miss Nebraska?” Willy said as he popped out the door and took her arm. “What happened to you?”
He searched her over, brushing off her clothes, fretting like a protective father. It made Slyder wonder just how close she was to her staff, especially Willy. There was a history there. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he’d get to the bottom of it.
He’d find out if Willy could be trusted—or not.
She smiled, and waved him off with a hand. “I’m okay, Mr. Willy. I just took a spill when some out-of-control driver tore down the street. You know those young guys when they get their new sports cars with mommy and daddy’s money. They all of a sudden think they’re experts out there, and next thing you know innocent pedestrians are hiding in shrubs to avoid them.”
“Someone tried to hit you with their car?” he asked, rearing back, his thick gray eyebrows shooting up under the brim of his hat.
Willy had automatically deduced that someone had tried to hit her. Whether it was because he knew she was in danger or because he was part of the plan to harm her, Slyder didn’t know, but he’d discuss it with Dylan.
“Nah, missed me by a mile. Slyder, here, overreacted and threw me into the shrubs. He’s a worrier, mother hen that he is.” She patted Slyder on the chest as if it was all just one big misunderstanding.
And he resented the hell out of her acting as though this was no big deal, again.
He brushed her hip, causing her to suck in a shaky breath and wince. “Now…” When her voice trembled, she cleared it. “If you guys don’t mind, I’m going to get cleaned up,” she said as she headed up the driveway.
The slight hitch in her step told him that she was trying her damnedest to not let the pain show, but it did anyway. He could see it, and when he spotted the frown on Willy’s worried face he knew the man saw it, too.
“That young lady right there just spun a lovely web of bullshit for me, didn’t she?” he ascertained.
“Yes, sir, that she did,” Slyder said, shaking his head. Willy’s question eased some of the tension between Slyder’s shoulder blades, at the thought that Nebraska didn’t need to worry about not only whoever was outside the gate, but also whoever was in.
“I don’t like this nonsense one bit. Weird cars slowly driving by, staring at the house. Nebraska always sneaking out despite being told to stay put for her own good.” He slammed his hand against the gate booth. “Damn frustrating for this old man, knowing I’m useless to stop it.”
“She’s not easy on the nerves, that’s for sure,” Slyder agreed.
Willy wheezed out a laugh. “No…no, she’s not. I worked for her mother, you know. I loved when Nebraska visited as a child. She was so precocious. So eager to experience life. All of it. Not just the pretty stuff. She reminded me so much of my own daughter.” Willy hung his head and wiped at his eyes. “My daughter passed. I couldn’t protect her, but when Nebraska moved to California I saw it as my chance to watch out for her, you know?” he said.
Slyder totally got it. Willy was trying to make up for what he hadn’t done. Unfortunately, no matter how hard you tried, good deeds never quite made it right.
Slyder had his own regrets where life was concerned, and he wasn’t too eager to sit down for a chat with his demons. He sure as hell didn’t need to go there with Nebraska. Not with the way she loved the land she’d come from. She’d never understand why he’d walked away.
Or what happened to his home when he did. She would damn well likely hold the outcome against him.
The thing was, he wasn’t all too sure he didn’t hold it against himself.
“Yeah, she needs someone keeping an eye out, even when she’s not in danger,” Slyder said.
“So, you see that in her, do ya?” Willy asked.
Slyder brushed the hair out of his eyes, slid his hands into his pockets, and nodded, keeping his eyes on the house. Watching for movement.
Always watching. “I do.”
“When the danger has passed, you gonna be the guy to stick around and keep her in line? For safety purposes, of course. I don’t want you to go changing her or stifling her like that brother of hers tries to. She needs someone who can nurture that spirit,” Willy said with a pump of his fist, as if trying to talk Slyder into the job.
But something Willy said stuck out more than his attempt at matchmaking. It was the mention of her brother that piqued his curiosity.
Slyder learned a long time ago, his first year in the SEALs, when it was a good time to stay quiet and when to open his mouth. When Willy started going on about Nebraska, the respectful farm boy in him kept silent. When Willy made mention of Nebraska’s childhood, it was the volunteering of potentially important information that further encouraged him to bide his time and hear the man out.
“I’ve been here for all of eighteen hours. I barely know her,” Slyder said.
&nbs
p; “Hogwash. I knew my Mavis for the span of one dance at the church social. The first time I spun her in my arms, I knew she was the woman I’d build a life with.” Willy’s face had softened as memories played out before him, a movie only he could see.
“I’m not sure it’s so easy these days.”
“It’s only as hard as you make it, Mr. Slyder.” Willy clapped his back. “Keep that in mind.”
“I’ll do that,” Slyder said. He headed for the house.
When the hell had his vacation gone so far off the rails?
He entered the house, to find Nebraska holding an ice pack to her hip. He headed for her, annoyed by the way she played off danger, irritated with the way she had already worked her way under his skin, so he couldn’t just walk away. And angry as all get-out that someone was hell-bent on scaring her at best and, at worst, taking her out of this world all together.
He stopped for a minute, taken by the sight of her golden skin, her sleek, shiny black hair pulled back into a high ponytail, this exotic princess standing in the middle of a house decorated with light blues, ivory, and white. Starfish, sand dollars, and shells lined the shelves, tables, and mantels, making it look more like a home that belonged on the edge of the Atlantic in the Northeast than the fast-paced, lavish Long Beach.
He couldn’t figure her out. He expected to see more of her native side represented, and maybe some of her Hollywood side. He knew she had won awards, but they were nowhere in sight. She loved her homeland and took pride in her heritage, but all evidence of it had been left out of the decorating as well.
Unless you counted her, a native warrior, fighting for those who were weaker, making a respected name for herself—protecting those around her by playing off the seriousness of what was happening around her so they wouldn’t worry.
That was it. She was taking care of everyone.
Everyone but herself.
“Here, let me take a look at that,” Slyder said, reaching for her hand.
She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”
He lay his hand over hers, careful to not apply too much pressure, hoping the gesture would make her see that she could ease up around him. She didn’t need to wear the chain mail here…not with him.
“Nebraska, stop being stubborn. It’s just me. Now let me take a look,” he said, hating the pleading tone in his voice. He should have just walked away and let her handle it. It was his job to keep her alive, not play nursemaid.
She met his eyes and sighed, lifting her hand and handing him the ice pack. “It’s going to hurt if you do it.”
“It hurts now, if the look in your eyes is any indication. I’ll be careful. Anyway, I thought you were indestructible. At least, that’s how you make yourself sound.”
She smirked. “Soft hips don’t like being thrown against rough, hard surfaces, apparently.”
Soft hips…her words put all kinds of thoughts in his head of the round female form, soft, fragrant skin, fevered flesh, and wet heat. He knelt next to her…he told himself it was necessary.
He lied.
Sliding the tips of his fingers into her waistband, he slowly pulled the fabric back and down to her thigh.
He tried to ignore the curve of her hip, the swell of her perfect ass just begging to be touched. Her black bikinis hugged her like a second skin, showing off the mound concealed beneath. They all distracted from the purple scrape covering the expanse of her thigh and tiny droplets of dried blood dotting her hip.
Her breath caught, the sound going straight to his cock and, for a minute, for the first time since he’d been a green teenager, he wondered if he’d lose control of himself. Excitement and need pummeled him. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit back a groan.
“Slyder,” she murmured.
His name on her lips for the first time worked his heart the way her body worked his libido.
“You called me by my name,” he said.
“I did,” she replied.
“I like the way it sounds rolling off those lips of yours,” he said, holding her stare.
“I liked saying it.” She bit her lip, her eyes on his.
“You have a first aid kit around here?” he said, in an attempt to crawl out of the sexual haze that surrounded them. He had a job to do, and her wound needed to be cleaned and bandaged up.
“Uh, yeah, there’s one under the sink in the guest bathroom. I can grab it.”
“No. You stay here. Hold this,” he said, handing her the edge of her pants. “I’ll get it.” Call him a coward, but he needed a minute, and grabbing the supplies was just the way to get it. Standing, he headed for the half-bath, opened the cabinet, and grabbed the case. As he pulled back, a small black disk where the cabinet and door meet caught his eye.
Leaning in, he had a feeling he knew what he had spotted. Taking a closer look confirmed it.
The house was bugged.
By Dylan? Or someone else?
If it hadn’t been Dylan trying to collect evidence, they had further confirmation that they were on the right track checking the family.
He closed the door, leaving the device where it was. He returned to Nebraska, who had thankfully stayed put.
Opening the kit, he dug out the hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, gauze pads, and tape. “This might sting,” he said.
“I imagine it will. Don’t worry about it; I’ve had plenty of bumps and bruises on set. This is just more of the same.”
He soaked a pad with peroxide and pressed it to her angry skin. The bubbles sizzled under his palm as the liquid worked on killing the germs in her scrape. “Is that why you don’t take the threats against you seriously? This isn’t a set. This is real life; someone is supposed to, at best, scare you; at worst, take your life. It’s a hell of a gamble you take when you ignore that.” He hadn’t meant to give her shit, but she was the reason they were out there walking. Of course, he was the ass who’d allowed it.
She hissed when he wiped along the scrape, lifting the dried blood. “Look, most of the threats were stupid little things. Prank phone calls telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, where I shouldn’t go, or else. How do I take that seriously?”
He glanced up before squeezing Neosporin onto another gauze pad and running it over her hip. “You said most. And the others?”
Her fingers curled over the edge of the counter so tight they turned white. “Well, those were, I don’t know. More. Notes left for me on different sets, warning me of things I shouldn’t do. Whoever wrote them knew my schedule. Not just where I was at the moment, but where I would be in the future.”
“And that wasn’t enough to tell you that you needed to heed the warnings?” he asked.
“How do you expect me to do that? If I do as they tell me, they win.”
He lay a clean bandage over her skin and began hitching it down with tape. “Yes, and at the end of the day you’re alive.”
“Not really. I’m nothing more than a puppet. I’d rather be dead than live my life dancing to a nameless, faceless puppet master using my world as his playground,” she said, glancing away from him.
He got it. For the first time he got it. And she was right. Not that he’d tell her that. She’d have a field day with the information, and he’d have an even harder time watching out for her.
“I don’t think the movie this afternoon is a good idea. We can skip it and go to dinner with your mother and brother.” There was no way he was missing a chance to feel them out. He needed to find out from Dylan how much time he’d spent with them and what he knew so far, so Slyder knew better what to look for.
She shook her head and set that ponytail to swinging. “Oh, I’m going to the movie. It’s not up for debate.”
He took her wrist and turned her to him. “Dammit, Nebraska,” he ground out.
She smiled. “I told you I’d wear a disguise.”
“You’re hard to miss. I’m not sure there’s a disguise that will hide you,” he grumbled.
“Look at you wit
h all the compliments. I’m beginning to think you like me,” she said, smiling up at him.
It was that damn hopeful look that had him throwing reason out the window and smiling back. “Yeah, maybe a little bit.”
She glanced back and forth as if someone might overhear them, and then leaned in. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but I’m starting to like you, too,” she whispered, giving him a wink.
“And you’ll do everything I say?” he asked.
She pursed her lips and shrugged. “I doubt it,” she said before sauntering off to her room to change.
Well, fuck.
Slyder pulled out his cell and dialed Dylan’s number before stepping outside.
“What’s up, guy? Don’t tell me you have issues with Nebraska already.”
“We were almost taken out by an out-of-control car. It might have been an accident, but maybe not.”
“You get a description?” Dylan asked.
“I have a license plate number.” Slyder winced.
“Okay, that works, but it’s weird, you don’t know the color or anything?”
“Nope.” Slyder rubbed his forehead, hoping to banish the ache that had formed there.
“What were you doing when you noticed it? Knitting?”
He closed his eyes and tossed himself to the wolves. “Kissing Nebraska.”
“What the actual fuck?” Dylan growled.
“It was a total accident.”
“Really? An accident? You just tripped and your tongue fell into her mouth? Could happen to anyone. Christ. I need someone there with a clear head.”
“I have a clear head.”
“I can send Evan back. You can take his place and assist Cole.”
Not happening. “The fuck I will. I’m not going anywhere. Look, there’s something else. You didn’t plant bugs in the house, did you?”
“No, why? Hell, we even did a sweep.”
“Well, you missed one. Or someone has been in here planting bugs since.”
“Shit,” Dylan muttered.
“I have a feeling you need to focus on the mother, brother, and staff here, starting with Willy.” He hoped he was wrong. He had to force himself to even say the words, but he couldn’t let the fact that he liked the man get in his way.
