by Rye Hart
I looked up sharply at the sound of Logan’s voice. “What?”
“You’ve been going to get help, right?” he asked, cautiously. “You’ve been home for almost four months, and this is the first time I’ve seen you since Tony’s funeral.”
“Yah. It was one of the requirements my Mom set up when I came back,” I said, nodding. “I agreed to get help as long as she let me help pay the bills around the house along with treatment.”
“Then, promise me you’ll consider this job. I know your Mom could use the extra help while she’s in remission. She’s been in our prayers during her treatment,” Logan said.
“Thank you, that means a lot.”
“Remember Robert Carter?”
I frowned at the familiar name. “That’s one of the federal prosecutors who put terrorists behind bars, right?”
“Correct. He wants to hire a bodyguard for his daughter who recently graduated law school and is going on a trip to Spain.”
“How old is the daughter?”
“I believe she is—” Logan picked up the file in front of him to flip through the papers quickly. “—twenty-two. She graduated from Harvard a few weeks ago. Obviously a smart girl, so she can’t be that much trouble. You know Robert doesn’t put up with anything. I can’t imagine how strict the guy was on her – not to mention how much balls he must have busted all these years. In my opinion, this is easy money man.”
I rubbed at the back of my neck and sighed.
The last thing I wanted to do was leave my Mom while she received treatment for Stage II breast cancer, but our bills had to be paid. I had been discharged with honor, and a hefty sum to start early retirement, but my Mom struggled enough as it was financially. Growing up, we had no money, but she always made ends meet for us – and now it was my turn to step up.
The doctor I had arranged her to see was expensive. Damn expensive. Though, she was worth every fucking penny I could scrounge up - and then some. I’ve never imagined taking up a job like this, but maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea if it meant helping out with my Mom’s situation. I could swallow my pride and get through it.
The appeal to babysit a rich prosecutor’s daughter was not high on my list of things to do now that I had the time to do whatever I wanted. I had respect for Robert Carter though. While Logan and I took the bad guys out on combat through deadly force, Robert Carter put them behind bars for the rest of their lives as a form of punishment.
“How much is the mission here?” I asked.
“$500,000,” Logan said and laughed when I nearly choked on air. “That ain’t nothing compared to what some celebrities pay. That’s just your cut too. I’m not including mine.”
“Shit,” I exclaimed. “You could’ve started with that number.”
Logan grinned at me. “Good to know. Figured you might like this job since we’ve dealt with Mr. Carter previously from handing his reports for court. He’s a hard hitter, but you knew that, man.”
I nodded. Hard hitter was putting it nicely.
“My Mom’s receiving treatment this summer,” I said. “I have a feeling he wants a bodyguard for this summer.”
“Just for one month. All the travel expenses will be paid for as well along with the hotels.”
“I’ll make my suggestions about Madrid,” I said, shaking my head. “There is some corrupt bullshit going on over there within that country. I don’t trust any personal guards there.”
“I take it that means you’re accepting the job then?”
“As long as I know you and Jade can help my Mom,” I said, pointing a finger at him. “I’m helping you, so you help me here.”
“Always,” Logan said, nodding. “Brothers are always first. No matter what. Here’s all the information.” He handed over all the papers. “I don’t know the exact dates besides that it’ll be in a week or so. Just sign and leave the contract here. I’ll call Mr. Carter to let him know you’re coming into Manhattan to speak with him this afternoon.”
I sat back in my chair. A headache pounded in my temples while I flicked through the papers quickly. Libby Armstrong. I glanced down at her photo attached to a piece of paper.
There was the best friend I’d be protecting too— the tall and leggy blonde with a sultry smile. I snorted. Abigail Carter. A timid woman with shoulder length brown hair and large frame glasses looked up at me from the photograph. She was small too. 5’3. 125 lbs. She could easily be abducted without a fight. It didn’t help her case either that she looked like a sexy book nerd with those glasses and innocent expression.
I cleared my throat at the last observation. Easy boy, Jordan, if you’re thinking of bangin’ a top US prosecutor’s daughter then you’d better be ready for another kind of war.
“Okay,” I said. “Call him up. I’ll be there within an hour.”
***
End of Sneak Peak. Would you like to know how this continues?
Click Here: Rock Hard SEAL: A Navy SEAL & A Virgin Romance
I was hired to protect her at any cost – but all I can think about is turning her over my knee and teaching her a lesson she won’t forget.
Years of training in the Special Forces couldn’t prepare me for Abigail Carter.
From the moment we met at her Dad’s office, I knew I was royally f*cked.
Smart-mouthed. Sassy. And unbelievably sexy.
Her Dad’s a big shot attorney prosecuting the world’s deadliest terrorists– and someone has placed threats on his family.
I was called on to protect her from the bad guys –but who will protect her from me?
I may be her body guard but I’m tempted to teach her who’s really boss.
She's forbidden fruit, and I know that letting my guards down will mean losing everything – so I’ll have to stay focused and treat this like another battle I won't lose.
Rock Hard SEAL: A Navy SEAL & A Virgin Romance
Rock Hard Daddy: Sneak Peak
Rock Hard Daddy: A Single Dad & Virgin Romance
Chapter One: Chloe Jones
Three months after I graduated from college, I decided that Peter Clarke was an asshole and, for that reason, I hated him with every damn cell in my being. As was expected of the valedictorian, Peter’s speech was grand and filled with triumphant words. In a confident and jubilant tone, he assured me—and our entire graduating class—that the world was ours for the taking and, therefore, we could do anything, have anything and be anything we desired. Like a dumbass, I believed him, and therein lies my problem with the guy.
Stupid Peter.
It turns out that Peter was full of shit, and the world was not mine for the taking. In fact, the world didn’t give a crap about me. Despite my outrageously expensive degree in Hotel Management, and 4.0 GPA, I am now left jobless, penniless, and left wanting to crawl under a rock and die.
The economic downfall meant that my degree, which cost enough to virtually pay off a house in Tuscany, didn’t mean jack shit in the real world. If only I had the power to predict the future - I would now be in my gorgeous Tuscan villa, in the arms of my hot Italian boyfriend, sipping a glass of red. At least that was my logic. Of course, that suggests I somehow would have gotten over my obsessive infatuation with my childhood crush, Conner Wilkes. In case, I haven’t already painted a picture of the pitiable and unrealistic fantasy world I’ve been living, my child hood crush also happens to be my Dad’s best friend. We’ll get to back Conner soon enough; for now I’ve got some more venting left in my system.
If only Peter was here now so I could tell him flawed his logic truly was. None of the hundreds of hotels I sent my application to bothered to even call me back for an interview. It was embarrassing and left me no other choice than to collect my crap and return to the small Tennessee town I grew up - with my tail tucked between my legs.
Stupid, stupid Peter.
Life sucked, and I hated it, but amidst all of the frustration, there was one good thing about being back home. Dad.
“Bumblebee,�
� Dad cried as soon as I walked through the gate at the airport.
A broad, face-splitting grin formed on my lips at the sight of my father. I know most girls say that their Dad is the best, but mine actually was. He and my mother had both been twenty-one when they had me, so in a way, the three of us grew up together. Thanks to them, I had an almost perfect childhood filled with fun, forts, and smores for dinner. Unfortunately, the two of them grew apart, but our closeness remained intact.
“Daddy,” I said as I ran toward him and wrapped my arms around his neck. He smelled like grass, leather, and home.
We hugged for a solid minute. Then, he pulled away to look at me.
“Let me check the status.”
Those words were familiar and instantly made me grow a little taller in my spine as I stood in front of him. Not caring that we were surrounded by curious strangers, Dad cupped his square jaw with his right hand and tapped his index fingers on his lips as he looked at me through mock stern eyes that made me chuckle.
Like he used to do when I was a kid, he placed a hand on the top of my head, fidgeted with my long blonde hair and poked me in the belly. “The hair is longer. You still look exactly like your mom, but I don’t think you grew this time.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m twenty-two, Dad. I haven’t grown in like five years.”
“It’s a shame,” he said with a sigh. “I liked when you were still growin’, kiddo.”
“Yeah, I know,” I replied with a smile.
He’d been saying that for five years, and it always tugged at my heart. I had never worked up the courage to ask him if he said that because he missed me as a child or because he missed mom and how our family was back then. Hearing those words always made me feel for him and wish he could find a way to get over the divorce and move on with his life - like mom did.
“Now it’s your turn,” I informed, changing the subject. Dad stood a little taller as I looked at him. Imitating him, I nodded and tapped my index finger over my lips. “The hair is a little grayer, the beard is a little longer, but you still look like Dad. Also, you may be starting to shrink.”
His deep laugh echoed around us, and the sound warmed my heart. He bumped his shoulder against mine and grabbed my suitcases.
“How did you get to be such a smart ass?” he asked.
“It’s inherited,” I deadpanned as I followed him toward the airport’s parking lot.
As we walked toward his truck, he asked for updates, and I gave him the low down. Since we talked all the time, I didn’t have much important news to give, so I just filled him in on my newfound hatred toward Peter Clarke and my overall disappointment in adulthood. In my annoyed excitement, I also ended up babbling about how much going back to my childhood room and small-town life would suck after two years of living in Italy and four in New York City.
“Don’t be unfair, Chloe,” he admonished me while placing my luggage on the back of his brand-new Ram. “You’ve always loved living at the ranch. Can six years of living away really change your mind like that?”
Taken back by the sternness in his voice, I turned to look at him and saw hurt in his hazel eyes as he made his way to the driver’s side. The reaction shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did. Mom told him basically the same thing right before she left for a corporate job across the ocean.
Although she loved us and admired Dad for building a very successful—and profitable—horse-breeding empire from the ground up, the small-town life he loved so much eventually became too monotonous to keep her interest. He was heartbroken when she left him and relocated the two of us to Rome. Deep down, I knew he feared I would one day disappear into the cement and smog of a big city just like she did.
Feeling like a jerk, I followed him into the truck. Even though his face was strained and he refused to look at me, I reached for his hand and focused my eyes on him.
“It didn’t change my mind. I still love it here,” I assured him with all the honesty I could muster. When he finally turned his eyes to me again, I added, “I’m just frustrated and feeling like a complete loser. I guess I always assumed that by the time I was twenty-two and graduated I would have accomplished something. But here I am, back at my Dad’s house with no job, no income, and totally screwed.”
The sadness that had previously been in Dad’s eyes morphed into indignation.
He started as he looked away from me and cranked up the engine. “Not making it in New York—or anywhere else, for that matter—has nothing to do with being good enough. You're incredible, and I’m not saying that because you’re my kid. I’m saying that because it’s true.”
Trying not to smile like a little girl at those words was damn near impossible. However, before I had a chance to comment or thank him for lifting my spirits, Dad added, “As for accomplishing somethin’, you finished college with a 4.0 GPA. That’s more than a lot of people can say.”
“Dad, you know I love you and appreciate your efforts to lift me up, but your accolades won’t pay the bills. I still don’t have a job.”
“Not for long.” My brows pulled together with curiosity as we entered the highway. A wide grin curled on Dad’s lips as he continued. “Conner came over to the house last weekend, and we were talkin’ about you finally coming back home and looking for jobs. He said that since Quinn’s passing, Blackwater hasn’t had a good administrator and he’s in serious need of professional help. You know how Conner is – a pro with horses and tools, but a hot mess with papers and computers.”
As Dad laughed at the expense of his best friend, my heart started to beat so fast I was sure it was plotting an escape from my ribcage. Blackwater Ranch & Resort was the reason I originally chose Hotel Management as my major, and Conner Wilkes was the reason I loved that place so much.
Growing up, my Dad worked for the same ranch as Conner and since the first day they met they were stuck to each other like glue. Even though they had a four year age difference, it was as if they were always meant to be best friends. They had the same interest in horseback riding, sports, and women. They were both complete players, with their fair share of conquests over the years.
My Dad settled down early and got married to mom at age twenty I was born one year later. Conner had been only sixteen at the time so naturally he treated me like his baby sister. Despite being my father’s best friend, Conner was young enough to keep me from seeing him as an uncle like most kids do with their parents’ friends. To me, he was always Conner—the cool older friend who took me to summer fairs, concerts and taught me how to find the constellations in the sky. As we grew up, he became less of a friend to me and more like a hot crush.
For years, I worshiped the ground he stepped on, while he continued to look at me as just a cool kid. On my sixteen birthday, Conner took me out to my first concert to see Cold Play. It was a memorable night for many reasons, but mostly because I experienced my first orgasm that night alone in my bed. Since then, I always thought about Conner when I had the urge touch myself.
It bothered me that I could never get close to Conner like I wanted. It was frustrating, and then, when he started dating Quinn, it became excruciating. Conner always had a bad boy image and everyone who knew him could tell that Quinn was different from the girls he usually dated. She was sweet, funny, and a keeper. She was the kind of girl a guy marries, and he did. He married Quinn and I had my first ever heartbreak.
Soon after, they had a baby and I asked mom to take me to Rome with her just so I could be away from the two of them. It took me a while, but the distance allowed me to finally forget him—or at least stop wishing for a future with him. Even with so many miles apart, his memory pulled at me from time to time. I hated that I couldn’t get over him, or have a normal relationship with another guy. I had Conner to blame for being a twenty-two-year-old virgin. It was almost embarrassing, but as much as I tried to move on, no guy could ever come close to Conner. Pathetic, I know.
When I heard about Quinn’s tragic accident, my heart broke for Conn
er, and it made me feel like a complete jerk for ignoring him for so many years. I had been a selfish brat, and it left me five thousand miles away when he needed a friend the most.
The sound of my Dad’s fingers snapping in front of my face pulled me from my reverie.
“You okay sport?”
“Oh yeah. Sorry Dad, I guess I’m still kind of exhausted from the flight. I appreciate you for thinking of me. I guess it doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”
Maybe this chance to help Conner would finally make up for my errors in the past. I couldn’t tell if it was the jet lag or high altitude from the flight, but I suddenly felt encouraged to take this opportunity and make the best of it. I turned sideways on my seat and grilled my Dad for details about the job. Finally, I was actually glad to be home.
Chapter Two: Conner Wilkes
Like most Saturday mornings, I woke up with a major headache and absolutely no idea of where I was. I opened my eyes just a little to try and locate myself and winced at the clarity slipping in from around a set of curtains. Silently, I cursed aging.
Although I looked better than most twenty-five-year-olds, I could no longer drink like them. Five shots of whiskey were enough to fog up my brain to the point where I had to put some actual effort into remembering things. It was annoying as fuck, but I refused to cut back and drink like the thirty-eight-year-old I was. In my mind that was giving up which didn’t mesh with me.
I didn’t give up, I didn’t give in, and I didn’t compromise. I got what I wanted, when I wanted, and how I wanted. That was how I had managed to turn the sad, run-down ranch my Dad had left me into the largest and most expensive ranch-resort in the state, and became a millionaire before I was thirty.
As my eyes started to adjust to the light, I took deep breaths and looked around. The first thing I saw was a blonde head using my arm as a pillow. Our mutual nakedness made it clear that we had an interesting night, but aside from a fantastic blowjob inside my truck, I couldn’t remember much. That seemed to be a rule with my one night stands lately, and, in all honesty, it didn’t bother me too much. I was in the market for instant gratification, not something to remember.
