Guarding Him

by Kori David

  Staring down at the piece of paper, he shook his head. It shouldn’t have surprised him really, but for some reason it did. This needed to end, and it was going to end today. He had a virus ready for just this moment, and while the link was open, he sent his own malware into the system. No one would know it was there until he activated it. He sent the code to his phone, so he could activate it from any location. But he had one in mind.

  Grabbing a coat, he was out the door and in his car before his sister and Cody Sanders realized he was leaving. Ian ignored his sister as she yelled at him, and he got a bit of male satisfaction over the look on Cody’s expression as he left them in the dust. Pulling out his cell, he dialed a familiar number.

  “Sir, we have a problem.”

  “Explain,” the voice said.

  And he did, starting with his suspicions and ending with the information he’d written down on the piece of paper jammed into his pants pocket. It was short, terse, and to the point. No sense wasting all his good anger—yet.

  “I’m headed there now. I suggest you come as well because the chief of police will be right behind me unless I can lose him.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  The call disconnected, and Ian had a moment’s twinge about not calling Nic. She was going to be pissed when she found out what he was doing, but some things needed to be handled alone. Or as alone as he could get with an angry cop and his sister close behind. He hit the gas and his car shot forward. He needed a better head start.

  * * *

  “I have to follow him,” Isobel said.

  Cody nodded. “As long as you let me drive. Your brother is going to get me in trouble if I don’t stay on his ass.”

  “Fine, you drive. I’ll try to call him and find out where the hell he’s going.”

  Isobel locked up the house, and they both climbed into Cody’s big, black GMC Yukon. The SUV fit the large man, even if it was totally impractical for San Francisco. She tried her brother’s cell phone several times, but it just went to voicemail.

  “Do you know where he might go?”

  She liked the sound of his voice and the easy confidence he exuded. Isobel had watched him at the charity events over the years but had never really gotten to know him, probably because he usually had a sun-kissed-beach-bunny type on his arm. The women were never the same, but they all looked the same, so Isobel figured he just wasn’t into petite, curvy, brunettes.

  “I have no idea. My brother is one of those enigmatic genius types, so I only know what he’s thinking about half the time, and only because I’m related. Although Nicolette seems to really get him.”

  He flashed a look at her and grinned. “Well, she’ll kill me if we don’t catch up to him.”

  “You seem to know her well.”

  Another look, this one with a blond eyebrow raised. “Are you fishing?”

  “Just curious. She seems to be your type.” She paused and shrugged, then continued, “At least the type that I’ve seen you with at various functions around the city.”

  “And you’ve been watching?”

  “Yes.” Isobel wasn’t an overly coy woman; she didn’t like games. Even in the boardroom, she got annoyed when the corporate bullies decided to play around. “You seem only to prefer long-legged, tan, blondes. I am none of those things.”

  “Nic and I had a single date several years ago. It didn’t go as I had hoped, and I enjoy teasing her about it, but I’m also not hung up on her. I enjoy the blondes because they’re more into themselves than a relationship, and I just became chief, which demands most of my time and effort.”

  Isobel found her lips quirking at his frank explanation. “You sound like my brother. He has the same reasons, and I appreciate the honesty.”

  “I have a feeling that Nic is going to change that for him. I’ve never seen her watch a client the way she watches him. He doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Isobel heard the wistfulness in his voice and wasn’t sure if it was due to the fact that Nic didn’t reciprocate his attraction or if he was just envious of what he could see happening. “I don’t have much time for a relationship, either.”

  He shot her a glance as they sped through narrow streets, attempting to catch up with Ian. “Maybe I’ll go solo to the next charity sponsored by Jamison Electronics.”

  “Maybe I will as well,” she replied. Isobel had a death grip on the door and her seat as they raced through the streets in pursuit of her idiot brother. Cody might be used to this, but she wasn’t. Her stomach jumped and rolled with each hill they crested. It was like being on a roller coaster ride. “If we die in a flaming car crash, just know that I will come back from the afterlife and ghost pee on your grave.”

  Cody threw back his head and laughed. “Ghost pee?”

  Keeping her eyes on the road, Isobel nodded, “Ectoplasm or whatever ghost residue is. I’m going to make sure your headstone is full of it.”

  “Isobel?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m really good at this. I promise you won’t die tonight.”

  “If you say so.”

  He reached over and squeezed her thigh, his big strong hand hot against her leg. For a moment, she forgot that she was speeding through hilly streets notorious for accidents and rollovers, and just enjoyed the sensation of his warmth against her. Just a hand, but the stomach flipping that was already going on changed to something else. What would it feel like to have both hands on her? While she was naked.

  “I think we have a problem,” he said, taking his hand away and slowing down.

  She glanced around and saw that they were alone on the street. “Shit, we lost him, didn’t we?”

  Pulling out his cell phone, he started dialing. “Nic’s going to kill me.”

  * * *

  Nic let herself into Ian’s home and instantly knew she was alone. Drake had dropped her off and left immediately to beard the lioness in her den. She’d never been sure what had happened between her boss and Drake Page, but those two were like ticking bombs around each other. If either of them went off, Nic wanted to be in a concrete bunker somewhere because the fallout was going to be epic.

  She pulled out her phone just as it buzzed. Cody’s number flashed on the screen.

  “Tell me you have brother and sister in the car with you, and you’re getting a pizza or something,” she said. Her voice was soft. Deadly.

  “I have the sister. We were in pursuit of the brother, who gave us the slip. He’s going somewhere in a hurry, and the look on his face when he left said he was pissed or worried about something.”

  “Goddamn it, Cody.” He’d never let her down before, but then, he’d never been a bodyguard before. It was her fault for leaving Ian in the first place. She should have known better.

  “I know. Listen, Isobel and I will head to the office and see if he’s there for some reason. I’ll call you and let you know.”

  “Do that. You able to handle the Jamison you have?” He didn’t deserve the snarl, but she couldn’t help it. She was pissed at him—and herself.

  “Sorry, Nic. I’ll call you soon.”

  When he disconnected, she felt like she’d kicked a puppy—a very big, very capable, puppy. She’d apologize later—if—Ian ended up being okay. And after she kicked her client’s ass for disappearing in the middle of a case with killers on the loose—vicious killers that liked to hurt their victims. In terrible ways.

  Her fists clenched as she forced herself not to think of Lindsay. Taking a deep breath, she dialed Courtney.

  “Whatcha need, Nic?”

  “I need the coordinates from Ian Jamison’s phone.” She heard typing, faster than anyone else in the office could manage, a brief pause, and then Courtney was back.

  “Sending to your phone now. Looks like he’s still driving.”

  “Copy that. Any news?”

  “On Lindsay, no,” she sighed. “But the white van was being used by a man by the name of Nestor Pacheco. Good possibility that he’s the dead guy fro
m the water, according to Special Agent Busybody who keeps pestering me.”

  “Does Drake know?”

  “I told Kei, and he’s been inside with her for a while, so yeah, I’d guess he knows by now.”

  The line disconnected, and Nic thought about her options. Her vehicle wasn’t here, but Isobel’s was. Running up to the second floor, Nic rifled through her bag. Arming herself with knives and her gun, she also grabbed a hard, flat piece of plastic and a small tool kit. Her boss, Kei, was a woman of many secrets and skills. One of them was the ability to hot-wire a car. She’d taught that skill to all her operatives. Kei Whyte didn’t care about right or wrong when it came to certain skills; she cared about keeping her people alive by whatever means she could teach them.

  Back downstairs, Nic locked up, set the alarm, and made her way to Isobel’s BMW. Using the plastic, she leaned on the window, giving herself a gap, and setting off the alarm. No one listened to car alarms for the first minute or so; after that, there’d be looky-loos. She popped the lock and was inside clipping wires in under a minute. The alarm cut off mid-wail, and the engine roared to life. She’d always been a quick study.

  Propping her phone in the holder on the dash, she entered her code and pulled up the app she needed. Courtney’s own creation, the app showed her a blip that marked Ian’s cell phone. She always put her clients’ phones in the database for just this reason. When her clients were men, at some point, their testosterone couldn’t take being cooped up, and this was the way she was able to find them. It never failed.

  Ian’s blip on her map stopped. It was stationary in front of an address she recognized.

  Interesting. Guess it was time to blow her cover. What Ian was doing at this particular house was a mystery, but she did have a theory. Putting the Beemer in drive, she floored it.

  * * *

  “I knew you’d be back eventually,” she said, practically purring.

  Ian had never been a particularly violent person, but the moment Leigh Ashmore opened the door and her mouth, he’d wanted nothing more than to slam his fist into it. “I’d like to talk with you,” he said. His voice was even, and he was surprised that she opened the door wider. If she’d looked even once into his eyes, she would have seen the danger she was in.

  “Of course, darling.”

  She stepped back, admitting him into her luxury loft apartment. Glass and chrome, modern furniture blended perfectly with the open concept of the room and the San Francisco skyline. A cloud of flowery perfume assaulted his nose as he stepped through the door. Leigh had on a black strapless jumpsuit that complemented her white skin and auburn hair. Her breasts were in fear of escaping the top at any moment.

  Ian wondered what he’d been thinking when he’d taken her to bed two years ago. Now, all he could do was look around and think that Nic would hate this place. His bodyguard was understated in every way that Leigh was overblown. He frowned, the distaste in his mouth aimed at himself as well as the vulture in front of him.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked, putting the kitchen island between them to pour herself red wine from an already open bottle. Her laptop sat closed in front of a barstool, where Ian was sure she’d been working on breaking into his network.

  “I won’t be staying long.”

  Leigh frowned. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Ian had a few minutes to kill while he waited, so he went ahead and texted his address to his sister. He had a feeling he’d lost the chief, and police back-up might be needed when Ian started giving ultimatums.

  “This visit is going to turn into a party soon,” Ian said. He propped himself on the edge of her black couch, more of a sit/stand in case he needed to pace or punch something. The edginess he felt kept him from sitting completely. “You’ll be getting a couple of guests soon.”

  Her head cocked to the side as she smiled over the rim of her wine glass. “What’s going on, Ian?”

  “What was that little scene about in the bathroom with Nicolette?”

  A perfectly painted-on eyebrow shot up. “She told you about that, did she?” When he didn’t answer, she shrugged and shook her hair, sliding him an enticing look. He’d seen her do that many times, and he’d thought it amusing back then. Right now, it looked as fake as her breasts. He crossed his arms and waited.

  “Fine,” she huffed. “I didn’t think she’d tattle on me. We had a woman-to-woman chat about what kind of man you are and what you want in a relationship.”

  Ian snorted, “And you know all about me and what I want?”

  “Of course, darling.” She slid around the corner of her island, glass in hand, putting herself just a bit closer. “You aren’t looking for some mere housewife; you want a woman who has her own mind and her own business. We used to have fun, and we could have that again.”

  “Stealing my designs is part of the irresistible package?”

  Laughing, she batted her eyelashes, “It kept your attention on me. However, I was hoping for a different resolution. I want a merger, Ian. Your company and mine, making headlines and changing the face of electronics.” She moved closer, her perfume enfolding him and turning his stomach. “And, personally, I like us together, and you did too.”

  Ian was saved from saying anything else when the doorbell rang.

  “Your party, I assume?” Leigh asked, moving toward the door.

  He stayed where he was but stood, wondering who made it first. He had no doubt that the moment he texted his address to the chief that he texted it to Nic. She was going to be pissed at him, but this was necessary. The threat against him needed to be over, so he could get back to his life and convince one very lovely bodyguard that she should be with him. Not because he was in danger, but because she wanted to be.

  “Jamison,” Admiral Harris boomed. He was dressed casually in gray slacks and a deep brown bomber jacket; his hair wasn’t as tidy as it could have been considering the late hour.

  “Thank you for coming, Sir.” Ian held out his hand, the men shaking quickly.

  “I still don’t understand what is going on. Uncle Henry, why on earth would Ian call you over?”

  The doorbell rang again. Leigh went back around the corner to answer it. When she reappeared, both Cody and Ian’s sister were with her. The chief had a slightly inquisitive look on his face at the people standing around, but his sister had her eyes narrowed. She was working it out, quickly, by the look on her face.

  Leigh turned to him as she set her wine glass down and crossed her arms, “Just what the hell is going on, Ian?”

  “There should be one more person coming, and then I will explain what this little get together is about. I don’t wish to repeat myself,” Ian said. He’d have found the whole thing amusing except for the seething rage. It was under wraps for the moment.

  “Well,” Leigh said, eyebrows furrowed as she turned to everyone in the room, “can I get you all a drink?”

  “I think we’re all good, Leigh,” the admiral said. He’d made himself comfortable on the couch, unzipping his jacket. “I don’t imagine we’ll have to wait long for Ian’s last guest.”

  “No, we won’t,” Cody muttered. He’d moved to block the exit, putting himself by the entryway to the door. Then there was a knock at the door. “Here we go.” He looked at Ian, “I’ll get it. I hope to Hell you know what you’re doing.”

  Ian nodded. “I hope so too.”

  Chapter 16

  The door opened, and the man looking down at her had a worried look on his face. Nic stepped forward and put a single finger in the middle of Cody’s chest. “I have some not-so-nice words to say to you.”

  The big man nodded. “I deserve them.” Moving his body to the side, he gestured toward the interior of the plush apartment. “You have any idea why he’s here?” he asked, his voice too low for it to carry.

  “Let’s go find out,” she said. The apartment was richly appointed, modern to the point of fanaticism. It looked like a professional designer had a
photoshoot. There was nothing personal about the space. It was a glass, chrome, and black furniture nightmare. It looked like a modern tomb. Where Ian’s home was similar in the aspect of no personal touches, at least his home didn’t look like something out of a science fiction movie or smell like someone encased a cinnamon stick in a batch of lavender.

  The group gathered was not what Leigh Ashmore had been expecting, according to the frown and the posture of her body. She radiated confusion, but when she turned and saw Nic, that confusion turned to loathing. If the other woman had been a cat, her fur would have been standing up, and she’d have hissed at her.

  Nic moved around Isobel, lightly touching her shoulder since the elder Jamison was focused on Leigh. “I see you may be thinking what I am,” she whispered as she passed. Nodding to the admiral, she moved to stand near Ian Jamison, object of her simmering rage. Placing herself to the side, but slightly in front of him, her body was between his and Leigh Ashmore’s. The other woman noticed.

  Leigh scanned her up and down, noting the faded jeans, bulky sweater, and less than new tennis shoes. Her dainty nose wrinkled before turning her attention to Ian. “Alright, I’ve had enough. What the hell is going on, Ian?”

  “Yes, Ian,” Nic echoed, her voice sweet and sugary. “What the hell is going on?”

  He shot her a quick look, the muscle in his jaw working. Nic didn’t give a damn about the look on his face or in his eyes. She wasn’t the one that ran off, putting himself in danger. He took a quick breath and looked around the room, finally settling on the guest of honor. Leigh had her back to the kitchen, leaning a hip against the bar. A partially full glass of deep red wine and a designer purse were the only things sitting on the bar next to her.