Guarding Him

by Kori David

  “You mistake passion for loathing.” The music slowed, and Ian loosened his grip on Nic, but she didn’t move away. Not yet. She told herself it was because they were basically whispering to avoid being overheard, and not because she could feel every sinew in his body rubbing against her.

  “Well, either you caught her in bed with someone else—” Nic trailed off because she saw Leigh talking to the admiral. She had her hand on his arm as she smiled at him, and Nic suddenly figured it out, given Ian’s driving passion about his company. “You caught her trying to steal your plans.”

  Ian followed her gaze, his voice turning ice cold. “Not this project, but she was able to copy some plans for a new robotic design I’d been working on about a year and a half ago.” He inclined his head toward her. “She’s the admiral’s niece.”

  “Bet that burned,” she said, looking away from Leigh and up at Ian. His grip tightened on her as they danced. Nic usually didn’t like to dance, but the lessons she’d been forced to endure as a child paid off because she moved in time with Ian as if they were one body instead of two.

  “Doesn’t matter any longer, and I was able to block her from using the design.” The music stopped, and Ian slowed to a stop as well, even though he didn’t fully let her go. He stepped away as a new voice intruded.

  “And who is this lovely creature?”

  Ian’s face moved into a neutral position from the intensity they’d just shared, and Nic looked toward the intruder. Under six feet, light chestnut hair that was beginning to thin, and a body that was once muscled but now carried a spare tire—the man was clearly related to Ian and Isobel. Evan Jamison. Oldest brother and marketing guru for Ian’s company.

  “This is Nic Montgomery, as you well know,” Ian said. “I’m sure Izzy filled you in.”

  Evan nodded. “She did, and yet the reality is so much better than the picture.” He reached out and brought Nic’s hand to his lips. “It will be a pleasure working with you.” He paused and gave a delicate sniff of her wrist, “It’s refreshing to meet a woman who prefers her natural scent to all the perfumes women douse themselves with.” He gave an exaggerated shiver.

  “Nice to meet you as well,” she said, reclaiming her hand and moving to twine her arm with Ian’s. This Jamison did not inherit Ian’s reserve or Isobel’s charm. He didn’t bother to comment on Nic’s move; instead, he turned toward the bar set up in the corner.

  “Ah, there she is,” he said. “My date was in need of some Champagne.”

  Nic turned to see a very young woman, raven-haired and stunning in looks, standing at the bar laughing and smiling with the bartender there. He was about her age and handsome, with curly blond hair and dimples in both cheeks. Nic glanced back at Ian’s older brother to gauge his reaction. His head was cocked to the side, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  “My drink has been delayed. I guess I should go and retrieve it.”

  When she was alone with Ian again, she couldn’t help but comment. “Evan’s a womanizer, huh?”

  “Picked up on that, did you?” He shrugged. “They all seem to know what they’re in for with him.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever been sniffed before.”

  “He’s got a thing about smells. Claims strong fumes of any kind give him a headache. He’s a tyrant about candles and incense.”

  Ian tugged her toward the second room in use for the evening, dismissing his brother from the conversation. Tables were set and arranged, and as they entered, an older woman dressed in a white jacket and black shirt stood at the door with a bell. She rang it three times before retreating into the room.

  Dinner was served.

  Chapter 5

  Nestor woke with a start, rolling off the stack of packing blankets and onto his knees with a thud. He cursed out loud as his soft flesh hit the metal bed of the van—then abruptly remembered where he was, so he shut up and sat back on his heels. Running a hand down his face, he yawned and scratched his crotch, trying to focus on the job.

  The old lady’s house.

  A glance outside the windshield showed the sun was completely down, so he crawled into the front seat and glanced around. The street was quiet, no dogs barking, no joggers. He shrugged into a black hoodie and slid the hood up over his head. Then he opened the door and got out. He reached back in and grabbed a small crowbar before shutting the van door quietly.

  The night air had turned cold, and he shivered when the wind caught him, making it feel like he was naked while crossing the street. He hugged the shadows at the side of the house, keeping to the decorative shrubs. He’d just passed a window when he heard a noise inside the house.

  “What the fuck?” he muttered.

  The blinds weren’t quite closed, affording him about an inch of viewing space. The inside was dark, but there were two men inside with penlights searching the place. Motherfuckers beat him there. Who the hell were they? He circled the house and couldn’t find their point of entry. He gripped the crowbar tighter, but two guys on one weren’t good odds. And they probably had guns. Plus, one shadow was really big.

  Nestor hunkered down behind the neighbor’s trash can. There was no light here, so he was confident he wouldn’t be seen. He figured they came in through the back and would leave the same way, and he planned on following. The wait lasted ten minutes before the back door creaked open, and the two men walked out, turned, and locked the door behind them. Both had black, skintight clothing on and gloves.

  Both men looked big and in shape. He thought maybe they were related, not that they resembled each other in the face, but they moved the same way and had the same body type, one just being a lot larger in size. They scanned the alley behind the house and then took off walking. Nestor waited until they were at the mouth of the alley before he followed. They’d turned right and gotten into a black Mercedes with dark tinted windows.

  Nestor ran as fast as he could back through the alley to the van. He jerked open the door, jumped in, and fumbled for the keys. The engine turned over a couple of times and then caught. He put it in drive and sped down the street. He was parallel to the street the Mercedes was on, so he turned right at the next intersection and eased onto the street but didn’t see the car. He sped up, looking up and down the intersections he passed. He was about to give up when he saw the car.

  They had made a left and were headed into the business district. More vehicles were on the road, so Nestor kept about six cars between them as he followed. Twenty minutes later, they pulled into a warehouse with a secured gate to the parking garage. There was no name on the building, but Nestor drove around to the front and wrote down the address. Maybe his client had hired someone else as well as Nestor, but he didn’t think so.

  Now that he had something, he could feel his stomach growling. Time to go home and see if Carla made any dinner. Or maybe he’d just rob a small little convenience store. Carla liked it when he brought home candy. And he wanted a hot dog.

  Nestor would decide what to do tomorrow. ‘Cause right now, he was hungry and horny. And Carla would do some nasty shit for one of those little cherry pies.

  * * *

  Once dinner was over and speeches were given, there was dancing and more cocktails. Nic watched the “pretty” people mingle and smile meaningless smiles at each other. Honestly, she’d have rather been back in Iraq, covered in sand, and protecting her fellow soldiers than here. The only thing that made it bearable was her client. She was guarding him, but he was turning the tables on her.

  His hand at her back felt warm and comforting. He included her in the conversations as if she belonged in this glittery world, and he was so darned nice. He smelled too good for her peace of mind, so when his sister demanded a dance with her little brother, Nic was happy for a bit of space.

  “Nic?”

  She spun at the voice and found herself face to face with the Chief of the San Francisco Police Department. All six feet five and two-hundred pounds of him. Sun-bleached blond hair and haze
l eyes made him look like a muscle-bound surfer, but the uniform gave him a more serious air.

  “‘Bout time you got here, Cody Sanders. This whole nightmare is for your people, you know, the least you could do is get here on time.”

  He threw his head back and laughed before scooping Nic up in a big hug that was unseemly for both the venue and the watching audience. “Police work doesn’t stop just because I’m supposed to be at one of these things, Angel.”

  “Put me down, you big idiot,” she said, but she couldn’t stop the grin. “I know you’re still out on the injured list.”

  “Nope, you’re going to dance with me. And I’ve been doing my physical therapy; the leg is much better.

  Then he dragged her out onto the dance floor. Nic genuinely liked Cody. He was a great officer, and he’d worked with her on several of her assignments when she’d ferreted out information that needed police attention. Now that he was the new chief, she hadn’t seen him much. They’d gone on exactly one date a couple of years ago, and for her, the chemistry just wasn’t there. He was gorgeous, built, and had the best personality—but he wasn’t for her. She’d told him and then let him kiss her to make sure, and by the end of it, he’d gracefully conceded defeat.

  “I could take you down in front of all these rich people,” she threatened.

  “True. And I would enjoy every moment of it,” he said, before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I haven’t been out of the house much since the accident, and my Assistant Chief is doing a better job than I do, so please, wrestle me to the floor.”

  “I am working, you know.”

  He nodded. “I’d heard. Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “Ian Jamison.”

  His brow puckered, and he glanced over his shoulder, spinning Nic around as well. Ian watched them from the bar, drink in hand. Isobel now danced with someone else across the floor. Nic couldn’t quite decipher the look on his face, but it was less than friendly.

  “How long ago did you start the job?”

  Nic smiled and pantomimed looking at the non-existent watch on her wrist. “Three p.m. today.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked. His expression had taken on a considering look.

  He shrugged and danced her around, so her back was to Ian, then he smiled down at her. “I normally hear about any threats to our higher profile citizens.”

  The question was implied. “He’s working on a government project. The threats are minor, but personal protection for him and the plans is part of the deal. Per the Pentagon.”

  “Go out with me again.”

  Nic cocked her head to the side as she continued to dance with him. “What’s going on, Cody?”

  “Why does anything have to be going on to want a beautiful woman to go on a date with me?”

  “I believe the lady is otherwise occupied.”

  Nic stopped dancing immediately as Ian’s soft voice rolled over the music. She dropped her arms from Cody’s shoulder and hand and took a step to the side—showing neither man favoritism. Even at a four-inch disadvantage, Ian commanded attention. Hers. As well as his siblings’ who moved a bit closer.

  “Nice to see you again, Cody,” Ian said.

  “Thanks for throwing money at the charity, Ian.”

  Nic could feel the tension. She’d swear they were facing off, but why was the question. It couldn’t possibly be her. She was only friends with Cody, and Ian was a client known to her for less than a day. But it was the only thing that made sense. The words were civil, but the virtual dick-waving was present, and that kind of crap only happened over women. Nic rolled her eyes.

  No one was close enough to hear them at the edge of the dance floor, so she put a hand on both men’s arms. “Now, fellas, if you want me to find a tape measure, then I will. The ladies present will no doubt throw some extra money into the pot for the pleasure, but then a riot might break out, and the whole fiasco will make front-page news.”

  Cody grinned, and the tension broke. “Ah, Nic, you’re just no fun at all.”

  Shooting him a stern look, Nic nodded toward the spectators. “Go find someone to dance with.” She made a shooing motion with her hand, leaving her other hand on Ian’s arm.

  Like a dog that barks one last time after being told to shut up, Cody winked and said, “Think about that date, gorgeous. You know we had fun together last time.”

  The intriguing thing about the taunt wasn’t the words or even the tone; it was how the muscles in Ian’s arm reacted. He flexed—hard—as if he were going to spring forward and punch the taller man in the mouth.

  “You know each other,” Ian said.

  Flat tone, no inflection. “I know a lot of people, Ian. So do you,” Nic said, giving a fake little finger wave toward Leigh, who watched intently from the bar.

  He took a deep breath and looked down at her. “Touché, Ms. Montgomery.”

  “Oh, my, that was formal. Are we back to a more master/servant relationship?”

  Ian looked nonplussed. “The servant role doesn’t seem to fit your DNA.”

  Nic laughed. “Are you done here? Because I wouldn’t mind heading back to the house and getting out of this outfit.”

  “You aren’t enjoying yourself?”

  Taking his arm, she turned them both toward the door. “No, and neither are you.”

  “How can you tell?”

  He sounded curious, so she decided to tell him. She didn’t typically give away how observant she was because it made clients uncomfortable to feel watched, but she thought Ian could handle it.

  “You avoid touching anyone unless it can’t be helped. You stay to the edge of the crowd with your back to the walls, so you can watch everyone around you, but they have a hard time watching you—which is an interesting trait, considering you don’t have military experience. You only truly like a few of the people here, the rest you’d rather didn’t speak at all. I’m guessing because you know they want something from you and are so sugary sweet and fawning that it makes you want to gag.”

  She had him outside and into the limo by the end of that little speech, and said it all without looking at him because honestly, she was afraid to see his expression. He’d probably look at her like she was a bug under a microscope, somewhat horrified and yet fascinated. That was the look.

  “You’re unnervingly astute.”

  “That’s why I get paid the big bucks,” she replied with a small grin. And while he looked cautious, he hadn’t recoiled from her the way some had in the past. People, in general, liked to think they hid what they were really thinking, but to the observer paying attention to such things, the truth was written in every micro-expression and movement of their bodies.

  Nic gave the limo driver a new route home before holding out her hand and asking, “May I use your cell phone? I didn’t bring mine.”

  Ian pulled his cell out of the inside pocket of his dinner jacket, handing it over. She ignored the warmth of his fingers and the little zing it gave her as their skin touched. Nic had been so good about not touching him skin to skin, except for that dance. But she was damned proud of herself that she didn’t jump or give away any sign that he affected her.

  “Thanks.” Dialing the number, she got Lindsay on the line. “I need a full workup on Leigh Ashmore and a number eight.”

  “You got it. I’ll put Courtney on the number eight,” Lindsay replied before disconnecting the call.

  “What’s a number eight?”

  Nic shrugged and handed him back his cell. “Just a shorthand method of asking for information.” Information about his cell, his GPS location at all times, and any calls inbound or outbound. It was a horrible invasion of privacy if she had to use it, but it could also save his life if he took off without telling her. Most people couldn’t function without their cells; Ian would be no exception. Courtney could have all that information in moments.

  Ian didn’t look convinced, but Nic liked that he questioned what she did. It showed i
nterest and intelligence. He was going to need it soon because the limo had just turned the corner. They were a mere three blocks from Ian’s home, but now they headed in the opposite direction.

  The privacy screen was already up when they got into the back, so their conversation should be private, but Nic didn’t like to take chances. She slid over the leather seat until she was thigh to thigh with her client. Then she threw her left leg over him and pressed her body to his.

  “Nic,” he said through gritted teeth. His body tensed.

  “Relax, stud; this isn’t a seduction. Our driver took a wrong turn, and I don’t want him listening to what I tell you,” she whispered in his ear. Her lips brushed the outer lobe of his ear, and she had to stop the urge to give him a little nip there, just to see if he’d shiver. Good God, what the hell was wrong with her?

  “Do you know how to use a knife?”

  He gave one sharp nod, his eyes focused on the partition between them and the driver. “Good. Turn your body toward mine and slide your right hand up my inner thigh on my left leg. Do it now.”

  “Are you sure—"

  Nic cut him off. “I’m not taking any chances here, Ian. If we are being watched, I want it to look like we’re about to get into some heavy petting.”

  She gave him a little kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Trust me,” she whispered.

  * * *

  Ian wasn’t sure what to think, and he was pissed that he’d been so wrapped up in Nic that he’d missed it when the limo driver had taken them off course. It was something he should have been aware of. Now he had a gorgeous woman in his arms, nibbling his chin, and demanding he run his hands up her thighs. Most fantasies started this way, but he had the grim feeling that it wasn’t going to end the way he would’ve liked.

  Starting at her knee, he ran his hand casually up the thigh that was tossed over his. His pants got tighter, but he resolutely ignored it and kept his hand going upward. It wasn’t long before his questing fingers reached metal. Warmed by her skin, and incredibly sharp, he would’ve cut his fingers if he hadn’t had an inkling of what he’d find. And it explained why she hadn’t bothered with a gun. She had a freaking arsenal strapped to her thigh.