by Aden Lowe
Why the fuck did I give her my call name? That was too fucking close to handing over my real identity. My only excuse was that at the moment, I would give anything to hear her say it. And I was not disappointed. That voice of her slid around me, and touched my dick with just a hint of hot promise.
When she opened that door, tits half out of her dress, I was fucking lost. I would have given her anything she wanted just to let me look, even while every instinct demanded I touch, taste. Her bare back nearly undid me, and zipping her into that dress went against everything I wanted to do. The pale skin of her back felt like exotic silk against my fingers. Need coursed through me, to touch in a real way, to fill my hands with her flesh.
Somehow, I managed to stifle the need burning through me, and do as she asked. But I couldn't get that vision out of my head, even after I met the asshole Senator. That fucker seriously tested my self-control, giving orders like he knew everything. Never had I met someone I took such an instant dislike to. Killing him would have been a fucking public service even if he hadn't been a woman-beater.
And now, I had to sit in a fucking car and do fucking nothing after he slapped her. I wanted to strangle him, but I had to maintain my cover long enough to convince her to leave of her own accord. Landing my own ass in jail for assault would do absolutely nothing to help her. So I clenched my fists, gritted my teeth, and did nothing. Not a fucking thing.
I should have followed my instincts and passed on this job. My ability to sit still and watch that fucker hurt a woman was already in serious jeopardy. I wouldn't be able to do it for long, even to protect my cover and allow myself time to get her to leave. If I didn't have a chance to talk to her soon, and get things moving, I would be forced to turn this into a simple snatch.
When we finally pulled up outside the mansion where the Senator had some kind of fancy thing going on, the bastard leaned forward and spoke to me. "Take Miss Johnson back to her apartment. I can't have anyone seeing her like this." His guard got out, opened the door for him, and followed him inside.
I sat there for a moment, stunned by his callous attitude toward her. "Are you okay, Miss Johnson?"
"I'm fine. I'd just like to go home, please." Her voice sounded resigned, as if she had simply grown to accept the abuse. Her hand still covered her cheek, and the handprint I expected was there.
I had a lot to say, but I bit my tongue and held it. During the silent drive back to her apartment, I contemplated taking her somewhere else, somewhere away from Richardson, somewhere safe. Anything to keep from having to witness that again, or allow her to endure more of it.
The assigned parking for her place sat empty, and I left the car there to escort her up to her door. The Senator's man could figure out how to get that jerk home. As far as I was concerned, he could walk.
Miss Johnson seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and she allowed me to take her arm to support her. Inside, she stumbled a little as we started up the stairs. Rather than wait for her to recover, I bent and picked her up.
She made a little noise of protest, but I shushed her. "This will be faster."
"I'm too heavy to carry up to the third floor."
"Hardly. I've carried men who weighed three times as much as you out of a battle with enemy bullets buzzing past my head. Taking you up to your apartment is nothing." What the fuck was it about this woman that compelled me to reveal so much about myself? I never talked about that shit, not even with the men who were there with me.
"Okay." She relaxed into me, allowing me to cradle her close.
I tried not to think it. I really did. But having her so close, her hair tickling my jaw, her scent tantalizing me, a vision of taking her into her apartment, stripping that sexy dress off her, and kissing every inch of her silky skin filled my head. I never got involved with a job. Ever. Never even been tempted. And this woman pushed my restraint to the limits within a few hours of meeting her. Fuck. My. Life.
Her door signaled the end of my little illicit fantasy, and I set her back on her feet, careful to steady her. She fumbled a little with her keys, until I took them and unlocked the door. If I were a good bodyguard, I would have left her there, and let her close me out.
"I'll come in and make sure everything is okay." I didn't wait for her objection, just followed her into her home, and closed the door. A quick walk-through revealed no threats, and all the windows were secured. "Everything looks okay." Richardson's handprint still marred her cheek, livid red against the pale skin. "Sit down, let me get you some ice."
"You don't have to do that." Her low voice trembled, as if she held back tears by only a thread of control.
"I know I don't have to." I led her to her sofa. "Now, sit."
No further objections came, so I went in search of ice. Looking around her kitchen to find something for the ice allowed me to learn a little about Miss Johnson. The drawers and cabinets were neatly organized, and a tote labeled 'Emergency' held a variety of non-perishables. I found a small bag and a dishtowel, filled the bag with ice, and returned to the living room.
She took the ice and held it gingerly to her cheek. "Thank you. I'm really sorry for the way Jared spoke to you. It was totally uncalled for." A rueful smile curved her lips. "He's so used to getting his way, he has no idea how to act when someone has a different opinion."
I shrugged. "No big deal. Though I have to admit, I'm glad I was assigned to you instead of him. I might have second thoughts about my career choices if I had to spend much time with the Senator."
"You like being a bodyguard?"
"I do, even though it wasn't really something I planned." I sat on the other end of the sofa. "How about you? What do you do? When you're not campaigning, that is."
"I managed a little art gallery until Jared declared his candidacy. After that, it was impossible to continue working and still help him." One shoulder came up in a gesture she probably didn't even realize she made. That little half-shrug indicated he pressured her to leave her work, and she gave in.
"You miss it?"
"Very much. I loved working with the artists, helping them choose pieces for exhibits, and arranging the events." The way her eyes lit up when she talked about her work made me want to see them that way all the time.
"Helping the Senator takes all your time? It seems like there would be a little downtime where you could still do the things you enjoy." Unhappiness over having to give up her work could turn into the angle I needed.
"No, but he doesn't want me working. It's unseemly. He wants me to move, too, but I've resisted. I love this neighborhood. It's vibrant and warm, even if it's a little rundown, but it doesn't give the right sort of impression of Jared." Slender fingers traced the pattern in the upholstery. "Everything is all about appearances now."
"Can I get you a drink, or something, Miss Johnson?" I'd much rather continue the conversation, but I didn't want to risk pushing her too fast. "Or a snack?"
"Call me Lauren, please. I'm fine, thanks. I think I'll just go to bed early. I planned a quiet evening at home anyway, but Jared made other plans."
I stood, still reluctant to leave her. "Okay, Lauren it is, then. Just not in front of the Senator. I wouldn't want to provoke him into being angry with you."
She stood and offered her hand. "Deal. He doesn't need anything else to be angry with me for. I give him plenty of reasons on my own."
I shook her hand, when I wanted nothing more than to scoop her into my arms and kiss her until she went weak in the knees. Fuck, I knew better than this. Getting involved with a target could lead nowhere good. Not to mention, she was already engaged to a very powerful man. A hint of suspicion from the Senator and he could make my life a living hell.
"Have a good night, Lauren, and rest well. I'll be right outside if you need anything." Walking out of her apartment and closing the door behind me proved far more difficult than it should have been.
My orders from McKinley were to make myself visible and act as a deterrent for the time being. So I took up
a position on the landing outside her door. The man on the shift before me already had a little post set up, with a chair and a small table, and a cooler for drinks. The boring part of security work came now, the endless hours of staying silently on watch, waiting for a threat that might never come.
At first, I passed the time running through possible conversations to convince Lauren to leave. The ideas quickly ran out, though, leaving me with nothing to think about but Lauren herself. The woman haunted me from the moment I first saw her photograph, but now that I knew her? Had actually spoken with her, touched her? A billion times worse.
Suddenly, I realized how some men came to be so obsessed with one woman. At the moment, I would give nearly anything for a kiss from Lauren, including some of my hard-earned freedom. That she belonged to another man was of no consequence to me, partly because of the way he treated her. But if I were strictly honest with myself, it wouldn't have mattered if he treated her like a fucking queen. I wanted her. He presented nothing more than an obstacle.
So what the hell was I going to do about it? The smart thing would be to get her away from Richardson and walk away, and never look back. I was hardly the sort of man to give any woman a future, let alone a nice woman.
Thus far, any female in my life had been strictly short-term, and they knew exactly what I wanted. I made it clear right up front I had no honorable intentions toward them. Quick flings with no emotional encumbrances were my thing. And until now, I never regretted that choice. I never wanted more, never wanted to get to know a female on any level other than fucking.
Lauren? Yeah, I wanted to fuck her, but she interested me, too. Probably just a fluke. After all, she was the sort of woman I rarely encountered, one from a good upbringing and All-American home. She had no clue I knew that about her, of course, but I couldn't shake the knowledge. What would it be like, just once, to fuck a woman who hadn't had more men than she could count?
It didn't matter. I wasn't going there. Work did not mix with pleasure, especially in my business. As soon as I convinced her to leave Richardson, Lauren would go back to her family, back to the wholesome life she should have. She would find work with another gallery, or a museum, or whatever, find a decent man. She would settle down, have kids, a dog, and a white picket fence.
A woman like her wouldn't give me a second glance, anyway, so a fling with her wasn't even an option. Sure, when I touched her back to zip her dress, she shivered a little, and her breathing changed, but that meant nothing. No surprise if she caught a chill, as much skin as that dress left exposed. No, even if I made some sort of advance, she would either send me packing, or be embarrassed. Neither scenario worked for me.
Chapter seven
I sat there for a long time, thinking, after Trick left. Whatever reaction I expected from him, it wasn't what I got. If he punched Jared out, I wouldn't have been shocked. He had that look on his face that said he could do it. But then, he visibly reined in his temper.
I already thought I knew enough about him to make a guess about his reasons. He took his job seriously, and he knew if he defended me, Jared would have him arrested and he could no longer do the job. So he settled for getting me home safe, and making sure I was okay.
Trick's reactions didn't matter. Before long, he would get used to Jared's ways, and then he wouldn't bat an eyelash. The other bodyguards had been startled at first, too, but they quickly grew to accept how things worked. I was glad they did. It saved a little of the embarrassment of seeing pity in their faces.
I didn't need their pity. I could take Jared's temper, especially if the little flare-ups helped him deal with the pressures of his candidacy. Soon, that would be behind us, and I would still be right there at his side. No giving up. No failure.
The book I'd planned to read this evening held little appeal now, so I took a shower and went to bed. As I lay there, unable to sleep, I kept seeing the flash of heat in Trick's eyes when I opened the door half-dressed. What would it be like to have a man look at me like that every day? Jared loved me, but he was far from passionate. Sex with him was about him getting off, and nothing else. Detached. Emotionless.
Somehow, I really doubted anything with Trick would be cold or detached. He seemed like the sort of man who did everything with his entire being. I hadn't asked if he was involved, because the conversation hadn't become that personal. But now, I found myself truly wanting to know. If he was, she was a lucky woman.
God, this was ridiculous. There I was, feeling like I knew a man I'd barely met. For all I knew, he could be far worse than Jared. The only thing I had to go on was my first impressions, and those were admittedly clouded. But I still couldn't shake the feeling that Trick was a decent man, one who acted decisively and with honor.
When I finally fell asleep, my dreams were a mixed up montage of cobalt blue eyes, a dark faceless villain who watched my every move, and warm fingers moving across my skin. I woke in a tangle of sheets, breathing hard. Whether the breathlessness came from fear of the faceless villain, or something to do with those eyes and fingers, was anyone's guess. Maybe it should have been from the villain, but I thought it mostly came from the tension tightening my belly.
I lay there, refusing to look at the clock. Darkness still filled the sky outside my window. My schedule for the day held nothing until after noon, other than the mandatory breakfast with Jared. Maybe I should cancel everything, including breakfast. A day spent on the sofa with a book sounded like a perfect idea.
But I couldn't do any of that. People had expectations of me. I couldn't let them down, couldn't fail at any of it. So I would drag myself out of bed, shower and get ready, meet Jared and deal with him, then get on with the day. Just like every other day.
Longing speared my chest. How I missed the gallery and my time there. Every day felt new and unexpected. My current existence amounted to one long, boring luncheon after another, and cocktail parties full of strangers whose money Jared wanted. I dreaded the thought of spending the next six months this way, but there was no choice.
Jared had to win the nomination, and then campaigning for the general election started. More of the same, just on a bigger scale. More pressure. Stronger dread settled in my stomach. If the stress of the primaries affected him so much, what would Jared be like as the general approached? Assuming he won the nomination, of course. How many times would I bear the brunt of his anger or impatience?
It didn't matter, of course. No matter how many times he lashed out, I would take it. Even if it meant staying hidden half the time while the bruises healed. Now that my picture was everywhere, I could never return to my quiet little life. And any hint of scandal, or breakup, would ruin Jared's chance at the White House. And mine.
I might as well get used to it. The moment I accepted Jared's invitation to dinner that evening, my future was laid out. Our picture ended up in the society pages, along with all sorts of speculation about my identity. It didn't take them long to put a name to my face, and my entire past paraded in front of the nation. I wasn't a quitter. The shame of admitting failure would be unendurable.
I lay there, just thinking, for a long time. Finally, the sky lightened, and I got out of bed. The shower succeeded in washing away the lethargy from my thoughts, at least. It did nothing for the faint bruise on my cheek. I supposed I should consider myself lucky. No blood. No serious bruising. No swelling. This time.
Standing in front of the mirror as I hid the bruise with concealer, I thought back to the days when I didn't have to fuss with makeup if I didn't feel like it. My hair could go in a messy bun, and no one thought anything of it. Yet another aspect of my pre-Jared life to miss. Along with jeans, casual shirts, yoga pants, and flip flops.
Would my life ever be simple again? With days where I could be a slob if I wanted, hang out with 'unsavory' friends, drink a beer and watch football, and scream until I lost my voice when my team scored…So much change.
A knock came at the door as I tied the belt of my thick robe. A quick glance at th
e clock as I went to open the door showed a shockingly early time for visitors. People didn't just knock on my door at seven a.m.
"Who's there?" Yesterday's little incident with Trick taught me a lesson, at least.
"It's Trick." The way his voice rumbled through the door felt like an intimate touch.
I suppressed a shiver and swung the door open. "Good morning."
His smile lit up my doorway. "Morning. Do you make a habit of answering the door only partially dressed? Or is that a privilege just for me?"
Mortified, I glanced down. My robe hung mostly open, revealing the silky gown I'd worn to bed. "Oh, damn." I hurried to tie the belt properly while my cheeks flamed. "I'm sorry. It came loose." At least this time I didn't flash the poor man. "Your wife will think I'm chasing you."
He smiled again. "No wife. No girlfriend either."
I couldn't think of a reply to that. "Oh." I paused. "Come in. I was just about to get some coffee. Would you like some?"
"Coffee sounds great, thanks." He followed me to the kitchen. "I heard water running earlier and thought you might be awake. My boss just called to tell me my replacement called off sick, so I'm on duty for the day, too."
"That isn't fair! Can they do that?" How could he keep going?
"I volunteered."
"But, aren't you tired?" I couldn't fathom staying up all night and all day, too.
He shrugged a little, drawing my attention to his shoulders. They were wide, barely contained by his jacket. "No. I'm used to long periods without sleep. This is nothing. Don't worry, I'll be alert."
I laughed a little. "I'm not worried about that. It just isn't good for a person to miss too much sleep." I fidgeted with the coffee pot, and got out the mugs. Anything to keep from looking directly at him.
Trick chuckled, another intimate sound that sent warmth chasing through my body. "I'm fine. This isn't exactly physically demanding work, and I know my limits."
"If you say so." The coffee pouring into the mugs seemed overly loud. "How do you take it? Cream? Sugar?"
