by Alisa Woods
“She trusts me, I think,” Jared said to Piper.
“Why?” Jace asked. “I take it she doesn’t know you tried to kill her father.”
“She trusts me because I could have killed her, and I didn’t. Plus I have her secret now.” He still remembered her standing there, defenseless in the middle of the meadow, afraid of him but not running. Brave and innocent and beautiful. That was part of it, too—those things had stirred something inside him. Then she decided he was okay enough to come shake hands. It was a smart move, actually. Disarmed him completely and put him off his balance. Not that putting him off his balance was hard to do. Keeping tethered to reality was the hard part.
Besides, he promised he would see her again. He would hold up that much at least.
“Okay, how are we going to do this?” Jaxson asked. “Off the top of my head, I’m not seeing how you can get close enough to the Senator’s daughter to shout hello. Unless you’re planning on breaking and entering?”
“Garrison Allied does private security for the Senator’s estate.” This part Jared had already worked out on his own. “They owe us a couple favors. We tell them we have some intel that the daughter is messed up with the wrong kind of crowd. Say it involves one of our clients, and we’d like to put a bodyguard on her. Firstly, ensure her safety. Secondly, to get some intel for our client. We’ll say we’ve got credible evidence she’s under a specific threat as well, something that will convince the Senator that his daughter needs a bodyguard. That’s me. I work the daughter, trying to convince her to come to our side, to understand where her best interests lie in all this. Failing that, I get some inside knowledge on the Senator himself that might implicate him and take him down for good. Failing that, I’ll look for an opportunity to carry out my original mission.”
“Putting a bullet in his head.” Piper’s voice was flat. “There are still other options you haven’t considered, Jared. I can get into the Senator’s office as well.” Her counterintelligence experience had uncovered the Senator’s plans to begin with.
“All right, then.” He gave her a nod. “You work that angle, while I work mine.”
Jace was still shaking his head. “We’ve still got several options before you put that last one in play… as if that’s even an option. Which it’s not. Like Olivia going to the press. Or blackmail—I like that option. A lot. If you can’t get the daughter to come on board, then I say we put the pressure on to force her.”
Jared nodded, although he had no intention of letting his brothers blackmail Grace. She was an innocent in all of this—that much he was sure of. And he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin her life by outing her as a shifter. That was what he was trying to prevent—and if anyone was going to be sacrificed to the cause, it was going to be her asshole father. And Jared himself on death row. Grace would come out of this untouched if he had anything to do with it. He would fight his brothers to make that happen—because it was right, and they knew it, even if they were overly concerned about his life hanging in the balance.
“Lean on Garrison Allied to get me in,” Jared said. “Give me a week to work the daughter. After that, we’ll consider your other options.” Of course, what he really meant was that they could consider their options while he was considering the best angle to snipe the Senator.
“I’ll do what I can to find out if a week is enough time,” Piper put in. “I’m not sure what the Senator’s timetable is, but I think I can find out.”
Jared gave her a sharp nod, and he felt sure that she understood—there were really only two options in his mind.
Either he’d convince Grace to help them, or her father would have to die.
Grace’s small, red Fiat climbed the hill to the estate.
All things considered—including the fact that her life was going to implode within a week—the afternoon had gone well. The photo-op at the VA hospital couldn’t have been any more moving or perfectly pitched as PR. It was the best possible warm-up for next week’s launch of her father’s re-election campaign. Nolan did an outstanding job with the speech, per usual, and Kylie made sure all the right members of the press covered it—she even managed to include the veteran who was turned away. Grace hoped her ideas about new onboarding requirements for VA staff—lining them up with the best practices of top-rated hospitals—would gain some traction in the Senate. In truth, the administration could implement them right away, if they chose to—sometimes, it just took the right political pressure at the right time with the right photo-op to get the bureaucrats to do their job.
That was what Grace loved about her work—making real things happen for real people. This kind of change, if it went through, could affect so many people’s lives every day. During the photo-op itself, Grace’s father was his usual stately self, delivering Nolan’s speech as if the words had naturally come to him on the spot. Grace may not agree with her father about his new shifter legislation, but there was no denying he was an accomplished politician who could make things happen. After the photo-op, he had returned home, while she went back to the office to tie up loose ends and plan the calendar for the next day. Things would just get more frenetic the closer they got to the campaign launch.
The sun was sinking in the West, and its rosy hue turned the soaring pine trees surrounding her home into a mystical forest. As she pulled into the long winding driveway, she couldn’t help thinking about the sexy shifter she met last night—and wondering if he would be returning tonight.
God, she hoped so.
Whenever she thought of him, it was an instant fully-body turn on. She’d never felt anything like it, even with smart and sexy Nolan-the-speechwriter. She couldn’t tell if she was just desperate for sexual release or if the intense attraction was simply a natural response to the devastating sexiness of the man. Were all shifters that way? Or was it just him?
She parked her car in the vast garage where her father kept his showpiece vehicles. Her Fiat was plain-looking next to all the Jaguars, like a poor cousin who had come to visit, but she didn’t mind. Sometimes she felt like the one normalizing force in her father’s life—the thing that connected him to the real world where people didn’t live in mansions and drive fancy imports. Even though, truthfully, she did both of those things, too.
She strolled toward the front of the house and gave a smile to Richard, one of her father’s private security guards. Security was a constant presence around the estate, ever since she was a kid and her father was first elected to the Senate. To her knowledge, there hadn’t ever been a real threat to their safety, but her father had always said the price of being a public figure was the loss of a certain amount of privacy. The guards were always professional and practically invisible most of the time. She didn’t give them much thought, other than to politely acknowledge their presence. To do otherwise—to completely ignore them, as her father did—always felt a little wrong to her. They rotated a lot, so it wasn’t like she got to know them personally, but they were still human beings, doing their job—and doing it well, as far she could tell.
“Good evening, Ms. Krepky,” Richard said. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, and he made her feel more secure just having him around.
She grinned. “All quiet on the Western front?”
“Everything’s secure,” he replied with a small smile. “I’ll leave it to you to decide the rest, Ma’am. Your father requested that you visit him in his office when you arrive.”
She frowned, but she knew better than to ask for more details, and just strode through the door Richard held open for her. The wide entryway was empty, not that she expected to see anyone. The house was lightly staffed these days, with just a housekeeper and cook as well as a gardener who only came on the weekends. Her heels clacked on the marble flooring, and she smoothed back her wayward hair as she wound through the halls to her father’s office.
One of Grace’s fondest memories was brushing her mother’s long hair at night, pretending she was Rapunzel and Grace was rescuing her from the ca
stle by twisting it into a long braid. When the cancer struck, the first thing to go was her mother’s gorgeous brown locks. Grace felt like her world was shattering with each clump she found abandoned on the floor. The chemo treatments were useless, and the cancer took her mother quickly. That was ten years ago. At the time, Grace didn’t know if she would survive. But ever since, Grace had grown her hair out, long and straight and all the way to her waist, just like her mother’s, with only the occasional trim to keep it neat.
It reminded Grace of her mother every day, but it annoyed her father to no end. He had ideas about the proper, professional length of a woman’s hair, and Grace pretty much blew that out of the water. She tried to keep it under control in his presence, so she bound it up with a small band that she kept in her pocket just for that purpose. She was an expert by now, and in just a few seconds, it was restrained in a knot that tucked neatly at the nape of her neck.
She checked herself in the mirror outside her father’s office, and it looked decent enough.
She knocked on the thick wood-carved door, then entered without waiting for a response. Her forward momentum came to a screeching halt, hand frozen on the doorknob when she saw who was inside.
Jared.
She gaped—her father was standing next to the shifter, speaking in calm tones. A buzzing sound filled in Grace’s head, and a hundred thoughts ran through her mind, but they all settled down to one thing—Jared was a spy for her father.
Her world was about to crash down around her ears.
She almost turned and fled—the only thing stopping her was the fact that her knees were locked, and her hand gripped the doorknob so hard, she wasn’t sure she could like go.
“Grace.” Her father beckoned her over. “I’m glad you’re here. I have something to discuss with you.”
She made a horrible squeaking sound, deep in her throat. Jared finally turned to look at her with cool, calculating eyes. He was even more gorgeous in his dark tailored suit and polished black shoes than he had been the night before in all his nakedness… but the look in his deep brown eyes was inscrutable.
There was no running away from this.
With great effort, she forced herself into the room, one awkward step at a time. She almost forgot to let go of the doorknob.
Say nothing. Admit to nothing. Don’t tip your hand.
Her mind was reeling, but she managed to reach her father’s enormous desk, where Jared and her father were standing, without passing out.
“I know you like your independence, Grace,” her father said, calmly, “but I hope you’ll consider this with an open mind.”
Grace stared at Jared. He held her gaze, unblinking. No smile. No emotion. Nothing to give away what was going on.
She forced herself to drag her gaze to her father. “Consider what with an open mind?” Her heart was pounding so loud, she was afraid they both could hear it.
Her father sighed. “I’m going to make my announcement for re-election soon, and you know that’s going to be a somewhat contentious announcement.”
Contentious. As in, extremely controversial. The shifter legislation was designed to be exactly that—a call to arms about the shifter menace among them, and the determined Senator who was going to do something about it. They had been arguing last night about it, but it was supposed to still be top-secret—had he told this shifter about it? Something wasn’t right here.
“As we discussed before, it’s not too late to change course with that,” she said cautiously. What was going on here? Did her father know she was a shifter, or not?
Jared didn’t move a muscle, but his eyes lit up at her words. He couldn’t possibly know what they were talking about—could he?
Her father cleared his throat. Only she would be able to detect the disapproval in that small noise, but it was there. Only it was nothing like the level of raging disapproval, not to mention stunned anger, which would come if he knew what she was.
“And as I said, it’s the key part of the platform.” Disapproval that she’d brought it up; also a touch of impatience. “And I have even more plans beyond that as well.” A warning. “But there are some risks inherent in this course of action. Ones I hadn’t fully considered.”
Grace narrowed her eyes—what was her father talking about? “I don’t think we should—”
He cut her off with a raised hand. “I’m not talking about political risks. I’m willing to take those—that’s what a good leader does, taking the risk to do what’s right. What the people need, even if sometimes they don’t always understand that. Although some certainly do. No, Grace, I’m talking about the kind of risk I really don’t like to take.”
Grace’s head was still swimming. He doesn’t know. He wouldn’t be standing calmly in his office if he did. He’d be throwing a fit or throwing books or throwing her out.
Play it cool. Figure this out. “What kind of risks are those?”
“The kind that threaten my family.” He gestured to Jared. “I think it’s best that you have a personal bodyguard from here on out. At least through the campaign.”
Her eyes widened, and her heart climbed into her throat. “Bodyguard?” Her eyes flicked to Jared—again with the inscrutable face, but she detected a hint of humor in his eyes. A tiny crinkling around the edges.
Her father folded his arms, as if he was expecting a fight from her on this. “This is Jared Bachman. He’s one of Garrison Allied’s top personal bodyguards. They’ve heard some chatter on the street, especially among the shifter gangs, that hinted you might be a personal target. A way to get at me. I don’t know how they know about the legislation, but it’s obviously already leaked in some capacity. And they see you as my soft underbelly. I don’t want you endangered in any way, Grace.” He took a breath. For patience. “Please. I know it will be inconvenient, and I know you’re against this in the first place, but I’m moving forward regardless. And I’d feel much better if I knew you were protected at all times.”
Grace’s mouth hung open. She struggled for words, but they simply wouldn’t come. The crinkles around Jared’s eyes deepened. He was laughing at her, on the inside, she would bet her life on it.
She turned to stare him straight in the face. “I guess I can tolerate a bodyguard for a while.” It took everything she had not to give any indication that she knew he was much more, or perhaps less, than a bodyguard of any kind.
What in the world was he up to? And how had he managed to do this? Her head was whirling again, but this time with an unabashed excitement, not fear. Jared hadn’t blown her cover. He’d kept her secret. What’s more—somehow, he had managed to find a way to see her again. Not just once, but an ongoing, 24/7 personal bodyguard.
This was like a very naughty fantasy come true.
Her nether parts were already heating up.
Unbelievable.
Her father clasped his hands together. “Wonderful.” Then he reached to hold her by the shoulders, something he never did. She couldn’t remember the last time her father had hugged her. She almost forgot to hug him back, and only barely managed it before he quickly released her.
“Thank you, Grace,” he said quietly. “It means a lot to me, your support in this. I don’t want to have to worry about you.”
Her father didn’t need her support, at least not emotionally. Or in any other way, really. Of course, she supported him tremendously in being his campaign manager, but that was just a given. Doing her job. Part of Senator Krepky’s vast empire that he used to effect his political goals. There were some privileges in being his daughter—she got a pass on things he’d fired mere employees for—but she knew the bodyguard just meant one less thing distracting him, so he could focus on the campaign. Which was fine.
Even better—her cataclysm had been averted for the moment.
Jared finally spoke up, extending his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Krepky.” The smiling lines had disappeared from his eyes. Now they were smoldering hot sexiness at her. Or maybe that was j
ust her imagination, sparked by the heat of his hand on hers. It was like an electric shock had bridged the space between them and enlivened her entire body.
“Mr. Bachman.” She dipped her head and hoped the heat in her face wasn’t turning it beet red. Her father had already moved on to attend to some business on his phone.
“Please, call me Jared.” He was holding her gaze so intensely, her mouth went dry. They needed to be alone. To talk. Now.
“Well, Jared, I have a few things to do yet tonight. I suppose you will be accompanying me?”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “I’ll try to be as unobtrusive as possible. And I’ll make every effort to respect your privacy, Ma’am.” He was telling her something—that he was still keeping her secret. Perhaps.
“If you call me Ma’am, you’ll just summon the gray hairs to my head at a faster clip. Please, call me Grace.” She was saying this primarily for her father’s benefit, but he wasn’t even listening. Grace stepped back and beckoned Jared with her head. To her father she said, “Great photo-op today, Senator. Tomorrow’s schedule is full as well.”
Her father made a noncommittal nod, waving her off as he attended to his phone.
She had been dismissed.
She gave a wide-eyed look of What the hell is going on? to Jared, then turned on her heel, expecting him to follow.
As she strode toward her bedroom, she licked her lips in anticipation. The other security guards generally stayed outside, toward the front—she knew this from the many times she’d slipped out to the forest when her wolf was raging under her skin, wanting to get out. But since Jared was her personal bodyguard, she figured that meant bringing him into her bedroom was entirely appropriate. Hot as sin, but completely excusable, if they were caught.
A tight, low, and giddy feeling danced in her stomach. Was this really happening? She didn’t look at him or say anything until they were alone with her door closed.
She whirled on him. “Oh. My. God. Do you want to explain this?”
He just stared at her for a moment, then said, “I made you a promise.”
