by Mia Madison
Protect & Serve
Love at First Sight: Book Three
Mia Madison
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
About the Author
Protect & Serve
Love at First Sight: Book Three
Copyright © 2017 by Mia Madison
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
Each book in the Love at First Sight series can be read on its own, but if you’d like to check out the previous books in the series, just follow the links below.
Touch & Taste (Book One)
Work & Play (Book Two)
1
‘Sit up straight, Ava. It’s unseemly to slouch.’
“Deep breaths. Breathe in…”
‘Don’t you dare embarrass me tonight. Go put on something appropriate for a lady.’
“And out. Breathe in…”
‘Those friends of yours—the poor one and the promiscuous one—need to go, Ava. I know you like them, but you are only as good as the company you keep.’
“And out. That’s wonderful, Ava. Breathe deeply. Feel the breath in your entire body and relax.”
When Layla had invited me over for a private yoga class in the hopes that it would help me ease some of my stress, I hadn’t known what to expect. I certainly didn’t expect it to work considering everything that had been going on in my life as of late, so I was shocked when the instructor ended with a meditation that actually made me feel ten times better than when I arrived.
Letting go of the internal voice of my mother was a difficult task, but Mason had somehow managed to help me achieve it. Even if it was only temporary.
“Thank you so much,” I told him at the end of the session, blushing when he gently took my hand and gave me a warm-hearted smile.
“It was my pleasure. Will I be seeing you again?”
I gave him a nervous smile, my eyes flickering past him and my mood instantly souring when my gaze landed on my shadow.
My tall, muscular shadow that was currently leaning against a wall and sneering at the man who was holding my hand in a purely professional manner.
“Um, maybe?” I said, cursing the way my voice rose and gently tugging my hand out of his grip before Trent made a scene. “Only time will tell, I suppose.”
“Either way, I do hope you continue to practice. You’re a natural.”
“Thank you. Again.”
He laughed and gave me a polite nod, turning his attention to Layla and giving me a chance to stalk over to where Trent was standing, his expression void of any emotion and that damn toothpick sticking out from between his lips.
“I asked you to wait outside,” I hissed, glancing back to make sure my friend was still occupied. “I’m not in danger here.”
Trent sucked in a breath between his teeth, squaring his shoulders as he asked, “You sure about that?”
I rolled my eyes and backed away as I whispered, “Go. Away.”
He pushed himself off the wall, scowling at me before shooting another death glare at the instructor. I nearly groaned when I saw Mason glance over and immediately pick up on Trent’s growing hostility.
To my great surprise, the yoga teacher didn’t shrink away from Trent’s gaze—no, his shoulders raised like he was preparing for a fight. Whatever Layla was saying fell on deaf ears and a moment later, she turned to frown at my bodyguard and rolled her eyes when she realized why Mason had stopped listening.
“Men,” she muttered.
If one could even call it a mutter considering it was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
Just like that, the weird tension was broken. Trent took his sunglasses from where they hung on the collar of his shirt and repositioned them on his face, exiting the room without a word. Mason gathered his belongings and followed suit, though he did stop to say a quick round of goodbyes before heading out.
With the drama finished, I plopped down on the couch and wondered how long Trent would actually follow my wishes for. It wouldn’t be surprising to me in the least if he silently popped back into the room ten minutes later.
Layla didn’t seem to be concerned about the possibility. She sat down next to me on the couch, raising a brow as she asked, “What’d I tell you? Hot, right?”
“Yeah, he’s pretty stacked. How’d your mom even find him?”
Layla shrugged. “Probably the same way she managed to find a hot, straight pool boy and gardener and driver… I swear she purposely surrounds herself with these guys so she can try to get in their pants and feel young again.”
I scrunched up my nose. “That’s gross.”
“Isn’t it? But I’m happy to report that Mason has been immune to her charms. I heard her bitching about it on the phone last night.” Layla shifted around until her legs were crossed beneath her, looking off into the distance as she wistfully said, “Sadly, he seems to be immune to me as well. The Harrison gals just aren’t doing it for him.”
“Please tell me you haven’t been throwing yourself at your mom’s yoga instructor,” I said incredulously, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.
“Um, did you see him? Of course I want a piece of that!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes like she couldn’t understand why I didn’t. “But no—I haven’t been throwing myself at him.”
“Why not? It is your style.”
In the craziest turn of events ever, Layla blushed. I’d known her for years and I couldn’t ever recall seeing her flustered or embarrassed. Not even the time that it rained during lunch break at school and her white blouse became completely see-through. It was no secret to me that Layla hated wearing bras and the entire school found out that day as well. But she owned it.
At least until a teacher spotted her and dragged her to the principal’s office until her mom brought her a fresh shirt and bra. Layla put them both on and dutifully went to class—but being the rebel that she was, she came back from a bathroom break swinging the bra through the air before flashing the football team.
People said she was easy. It wasn’t hard to figure out where the assumption came from, but the truth was she actually slept with very few people. Layla was just a total free spirit. Both Charlie and myself envied her for it.
In our circle of friends, Layla was the wild one, Charlie the innocent, and I was caught somewhere in between, unsure of who I really was and—perhaps more importantly—who I wanted to be.
It wasn’t a fun position to be in, but I somehow knew that I’d never figure it out unless I could wiggle out from beneath my parents’ thumbs. Now that I had a full-time babysitter, that dream seemed more impossible than ever.
“Earth to Ava? You still with me, girl?”
I snapped out of my thoughts and gave her an apologetic smile, uncertain of how I managed to zone out so much that I hadn’t even realized she was sp
eaking. She rolled her eyes at my obliviousness, but waved me off when I tried to apologize.
“It’s cool. I know you got your own stuff going on with Captain Surly out there.”
She didn’t know the half of it. Both Layla and Charlie had gotten an earful about some of the crap I’d been putting up with ever since the threats to my father—and by extension, me—started rolling in, but I’d purposely left out a lot of information about Trent.
All they knew was that he was unfriendly, crass, and ridiculously good-looking. And pretty much a permanent addition to all of our outings—at least until the threat of danger finally passed.
But neither of them knew how torn I was about him. One moment I would catch myself wishing that he’d be around forever, and the next—I couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
It didn’t make any sense. It’s not like Trent ran hot and cold with me. He was always frigid. He’d never given me a reason to want him, but I did. More than I could even comprehend.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand why the idea of becoming more to Trent than just a job had occurred, but at least I could say with certainty when it happened…
2
Four months ago…
Waking up to my parents’ drunken arguments wasn’t anything new to me, but hearing the high-pitched screech of my mother’s sober voice ranting without so much as a response from my father was… unusual.
I sat up in bed and flipped the comforter off my legs, padding to my closed bedroom door and pressing my ear to the wood. It was clear that my mother was still frantically reaming my father out for something, but the words were too muffled for me to fully make out. So I grabbed my bathrobe from the back of the door and slid it over my nightshirt, slipping out of the room as silently as I could and preparing to tip-toe to the staircase to eavesdrop.
I thought I knew what to expect—it wasn’t my first rodeo, after all—so when I spun around after quietly pulling the door shut and came face-to-chest with a very large, burly man—I couldn’t stop the blood-curdling scream that escaped past my lips.
“Holy Christ!” the man growled, his hands raising and twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to cover his ears or slap a hand over my mouth. Instead, he shouted, “Calm down, woman!”
In a panic, I reached out and shoved hard at his chest. He didn’t move an inch—his massive frame was like a damn brick wall. I shrunk back in an attempt to get away from him, screaming again when he took a step forward and reached up to touch my shoulders.
“Fucking hell, Ava. Listen, just—”
“How do you know my name?” I asked, looking up at him and cursing the way his face blurred from the thin film of tears that had formed in my eyes. “What do you want from me?”
“I don’t—”
“AVA!”
The man winced at my mother’s scream, stepping back and letting his arms fall back to his sides. I numbly watched as my mother ran to hug me, burying her face against my shoulder and sobbing hysterically while my father slowly trailed up behind her.
“What happened?”
I pushed away from my mom just enough to scrub at my eyes, noticing with a frown that the question hadn’t been directed at me. It was directed at him.
“She saw me and screamed,” the man sourly recounted, rolling his eyes in irritation.
“Can you blame me? You were just lurking outside my bedroom! Who are you?!”
“I wasn’t lurking,” he stressed, gesturing back to an unoccupied chair that I hadn’t noticed before. “I was waiting.”
“Waiting for what? What the hell is going on?”
“Language!”
It was my turn to wince at my mom’s shrill shriek, and the man snorted in response.
“Not so fun, is it?”
My jaw tightened with anger as I finally turned to look at him—really look at him.
Unfortunately, it only took a split second for my traitorous body to decide that it liked what I saw. Really liked it.
I already knew he was tall and generally huge in size, but I’d been too freaked out to take a good look at his face. Square jaw, strong chin covered in a very short beard, annoyed brown eyes staring me down below a raised eyebrow. There were strong lines around his eyes along with marks littered on his face that were definitely scars.
I swallowed hard as my mind immediately declared that he was mine. What the fuck?
“Ava, this is Trent Morgan. He’ll be… accompanying you for a little while,” my mother said with a thin, displeased smile directed at my father.
“Accompanying me? I don’t get it.”
“I’ve received some unpleasant threats since winning the Callahan case,” Dad said bluntly, ignoring my mother’s voice as she tried to protest. “We have a full security detail keeping an eye on the house, but I’d feel better if you had a personal bodyguard protecting you at all times.”
“Hired without my approval,” Mom muttered distastefully.
Trent snorted again, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. His large arms folded over his equally impressive chest as he dryly stated, “If you want some pretty-boy douchebag that’s happy to run around and collect a check to spend on designer suits, I admit that’s not me. But if you want someone dedicated to the job—someone willing to take a bullet or two for your daughter—then I’m your man.”
I inhaled a shaky breath, watching as my mom’s jaw tightened with irritation for a long moment before she sighed and waved a hand through the air, a clear dismissal.
“Whatever. I’m going to the den.”
“Isn’t it a little early, dear?”
“Don’t call me that!” she barked, pointing a shaking finger at my dad. “You brought this on us, Arthur.”
With that, she spun around—all graceful elegance even in her night clothes—and stormed down the hall. Dad sighed and stepped over to give me a quick kiss on the forehead as he whispered, “Please don’t fight me on this, sweet pea. It’s for your safety. Promise me.”
I nodded and mumbled my consent, watching with wide eyes as he dashed down the hall, obviously running to attempt to talk down mother before she went on a bender. I looked back over to Trent, my anger returning when he plopped down on the chair and gave me a cocky smile, showing off his white teeth as he reached into his pocket and produced a toothpick.
Much as it pained me to do, I tried to honor my father’s wish and make nice. I eyed him up and down while I meekly asked, “You’d really take a bullet for me?”
His expression turned serious as his deep voice surely stated, “Yep.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“It’s my job.”
“Sounds like a shitty job.”
“It has its moments,” he said vaguely, shrugging when I frowned. “But it mostly depends on the charge.”
“Charge?”
“You, doll. You’re the charge.”
“Oh,” I said dumbly, shifting my weight on my feet and suddenly realizing how underdressed I was. “How, uh… How is it so far?”
“Could’ve done without the screaming. Other than that… Well, it’s really too soon to tell. Just keep in mind what your pops said. Don’t fight my presence and it’ll make both our lives a hell of a lot easier.”
I nodded mutely and gestured back to my bedroom door.
“I’m just gonna—”
“I’ll be here.”
I backed away a few steps before turning around, but I could still feel his eyes lingering on me right up until I closed the door. I leaned back against the wood, letting out a long, slow breath and saying a silent prayer that the threats against my father were handled sooner rather than later.
Because despite my promise, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to adjust to Trent’s presence.
3
Layla and I continued to chat until Trent unsurprisingly barged in to check on me half an hour later. He would never outright say it, but whenever I spent time with a friend and he frequently interrupted, I cou
ld tell it was because he was bored.
Though every time I tried to call him out on rushing me, he’d just give me a charming smile and shake his head like I was just a silly little girl making things up.
It was infuriating. Mainly because of how frequently he treated me like a child.
Of course, slamming the car door before he could speak a word probably just reinforced his view. He probably thought of it as yet another temper-tantrum.
Trent slid into the driver’s seat of my Lexus with his usual amount of grace—which was none. He flopped down hard enough that I swore I could feel the shocks straining under the sudden pressure. I rolled my eyes when he adjusted the rearview mirror, grinning at his own image before directing the smile to me.
Sometimes, I was sure that he knew how I felt about him. The scary part was that I was certain he understood it better than I did.
“Where to, sweet pea?”
“Can you not call me that?”
“And if I didn’t, you would’ve just pouted and stared out the window. The cold shoulder act gets old real fast.”
Damn him. He knew me better than I wanted him to. We’d spent way too much time together and yet I still felt like I didn’t know a damn thing about him.
Well, other than the fact that he was rude and crass and pretty much everything my mother despised in a man—and she certainly didn’t waste the chance to say what she thought of Trent at any opportunity.
It made dinner pretty fucking awkward.
To his credit, Trent took it all in stride. Every time she gave him a verbal thrashing for his appearance, his manners, or his language… he just stared back at her like he didn’t have a care in the world.
I admired him for that. Her withering glares could make lesser men shudder in terror.
“Home it is,” he said, breaking the silence as he turned over the engine.
