The Titan Series: Military Romance Boxed Set

by Cristin Harber

  Asher looked at Jenny. She snoozed quietly. Looked so innocent, though last night had proved that wrong. He would’ve whistled if he didn’t have to explain why. The woman’s sizzle was almost too much. Almost. But he’d take it. He smiled. Yeah, he’d take it every minute of the day.

  He scrolled through the rest of his e-mails. Campaign team, more campaign team. More scrolling. A lot of e-mails overnight. Then again, he hadn’t checked his e-mail since he’d jumped off the train. There was an e-mail from Molly, subject line, “Heads up.” Nope, not in the mood for bad news. It could wait. Scrolling through more e-mail, finally, press clips.

  Typical headlines. News on his opponent. News on the poll numbers. Typical. Everything that would be addressed on the conference call—well, whoa. What was, “McIntyre and Mystery Brunette”? Jenny. Guess Ricky hadn’t gotten all the pictures taken care of.

  That was also what Molly had probably e-mailed him about. His sister was sure to have press clips and a Google Alert set up to track his name.

  He clicked the link open and scanned. Nothing overly interesting. A cell phone-snapped picture and references to Jenny’s attractiveness and reluctance to leave.

  He bet the “reluctance to leave” line would be fodder for gossip blogs and that his campaign team would say things like they should jump in front of the problem. Maybe issue a statement that Asher McIntyre respected women. The reactions sometimes were worse than just explaining the truth. His girl didn’t want to leave the party in her honor, but some people had been dicks and ruined the night for her. Glad I made it better, though.

  He chuckled, taking it more in stride than he should, then leaned over and kissed her shoulder. “We’ve been ousted.”

  She shushed him and nuzzled into her pillow.

  “There’s a picture.”

  Jenny slowly propped up on elbows. Her eyes were sleepy and hair disheveled. All in all, a great look on her, minus the annoyed pinch of her brows. “Picture? From one of the cell phones?”

  He handed the phone over.

  “Oh, this is bad, isn’t it? For you? Politics isn’t my thing, but this isn’t great, right?”

  He shrugged. “Seen worse.”

  She scrolled down and back up again. “They make you sound like a caveman, yanking me out of a bar.”

  “They said you were hot.” He took the phone and tossed it toward the end of the bed. “Can’t fault them for the truth.”

  “God, if I’d just walked out, none of this—”

  “You can’t second-guess yourself, and you know that everything I do is tracked by the local news.”

  She rolled her eyes then tried to smooth her hair. “Yeah, the man who hits every eligible bachelor list in the United States is tracked by just the local news.”

  Shit. What was he thinking? This picture pinpointed exactly where Jenny was and that she meant more to him than just his little sister’s best friend.

  His phone rang, but he ignored it. A gut feeling said nothing good was on the other end of that call.

  “Hey.” Jenny rolled to face him. “You okay?”

  The phone rang again. He rubbed his face. Everything he did was calculated, but last night was not, and the sudden realization of the repercussions made his stomach sink. He grabbed the phone. Caller ID showed FBI Agent Murphy. He accepted the call and closed his eyes.

  Asher took a deep breath. “Think I have a problem.”

  Jenny’s face fell, mumbling, “Guess not.”

  “Yeah, I’ll say,” Murphy grumbled. “You didn’t mention that Jenny Chase was more than your little sister’s best friend. That changes a few things.”

  “It’s a recent development.”

  Murphy laughed. “Yeah, well, guess those things happen. You also didn’t mention that Jenny Chase is the sister-in-law of Jared Westin.”

  Asher’s mind stumbled, and he coughed. “Excuse me?”

  “Guess you’re having quite the morning, aren’t you, Congressman?”

  His mind reeled. Habit almost had him correcting Murphy to call him Asher, but the bigger concern was Jared Westin. “I’ll call you back.”

  He hung up, dropped the phone, and rubbed his temples. “Sugar married Jared Westin?”

  Jenny nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

  His mind raced. Jared Westin ran Titan Group, and they were more than qualified to protect Jenny than half the FBI. Given Titan’s leeway with the law and its connections with everyone from the president to the director of the CIA, it would’ve been beneficial to know. That, and Jared would want to know if there was a threat against Jenny. The man had a ruthless bastard streak to him, and Asher was sure not being filled in on threats to extended family didn’t conjure up a good attitude.

  He pinched his eyes shut. Actually, why hadn’t Titan shown up unannounced for protective detail? Only one reason.

  “You didn’t mention the notes to Sugar?”

  Jenny shook her head. “She’s just back from her honeymoon. Why get her in a tizzy?”

  His stomach churned. He was very good at his job. Titan was very good at theirs. Much better than any resource Asher could call up, and he was man enough to admit that. “Because you were threatened. Because I can’t be with you twenty-four hours a day, and Titan can offer far more in terms of protection than I can sleeping on your couch.”

  “You didn’t sleep on the couch last night.” Her smile flirted with him as she played the innocent card. “Besides, I don’t think that’s what Titan does. They take out war lords and cartel kings or whatever.”

  “Trust me when I say no one really knows exactly what Titan does.” He checked the time and was a minute late for the campaign call. “Forget what you think you know about them, and call your sister.”

  ***

  The unfamiliar bed might have coaxed Asher awake, but the warm woman curled naked against him was like a shot of high-octane espresso. He gathered her into his arms. “Morning, sweetheart.”

  He wasn’t one for morning-after chitchat. But it seemed his standard operating procedures had officially become a joke. Nothing he did or said to Jenny was his norm. Nothing inside his chest felt normal either. It was tight, but he felt… fulfilled. Odd since he’d been driving for that feeling with every career move and election. The answer had been in front of him the whole time.

  “I’m not a morning person,” Jenny mumbled and burrowed against his side.

  He reached to the nightstand and checked his watch. Seven in the morning. Getting a late start.

  When was the last time he had slept in? He couldn’t recall. A campaign conference call was in thirty minutes, but that could be done from bed. Mostly he listened while his re-election team discussed the campaign stops, polling, and focus groups.

  If something interested him, he would pipe up. But the logistics of campaign work numbed his mind. Let him do his day job, then he’d be happy. But that’s not how elections were won. There were fundraisers to attend, commercials to shoot, messaging to try.

  Just thinking about the call bored him, but he had to get up and figure out what he should do about clothes. Didn’t plan this very well, McIntyre. His suit and shirt were strewn across the room. Wrinkles weren’t a good look for a man hounded and photographed on the campaign trail.

  He grabbed his phone and touched the screen. Too many e-mails and text messages to count. Shit. He’d forgotten that Murphy was e-mailing over the Maxwell file. He clicked the e-mail open and downloaded the picture. No one he recognized. The file didn’t share any new information either.

  Asher looked at Jenny. She snoozed quietly. Looked so innocent, though last night had proved that wrong. He would’ve whistled if he didn’t have to explain why. The woman’s sizzle was almost too much. Almost. But he’d take it. He smiled. Yeah, he’d take it every minute of the day.

  He scrolled through the rest of his e-mails. Campaign team, more campaign team. More scrolling. A lot of e-mails overnight. Then again, he hadn’t checked his e-mail since he’d jumped off the train.
There was an e-mail from Molly, subject line, “Heads up.” Nope, not in the mood for bad news. It could wait. Scrolling through more e-mail, finally, press clips.

  Typical headlines. News on his opponent. News on the poll numbers. Typical. Everything that would be addressed on the conference call—well, whoa. What was, “McIntyre and Mystery Brunette”? Jenny. Guess Ricky hadn’t gotten all the pictures taken care of.

  That was also what Molly had probably e-mailed him about. His sister was sure to have press clips and a Google Alert set up to track his name.

  He clicked the link open and scanned. Nothing overly interesting. A cell phone-snapped picture and references to Jenny’s attractiveness and reluctance to leave.

  He bet the “reluctance to leave” line would be fodder for gossip blogs and that his campaign team would say things like they should jump in front of the problem. Maybe issue a statement that Asher McIntyre respected women. The reactions sometimes were worse than just explaining the truth. His girl didn’t want to leave the party in her honor, but some people had been dicks and ruined the night for her. Glad I made it better, though.

  He chuckled, taking it more in stride than he should, then leaned over and kissed her shoulder. “We’ve been ousted.”

  She shushed him and nuzzled into her pillow.

  “There’s a picture.”

  Jenny slowly propped up on elbows. Her eyes were sleepy and hair disheveled. All in all, a great look on her, minus the annoyed pinch of her brows. “Picture? From one of the cell phones?”

  He handed the phone over.

  “Oh, this is bad, isn’t it? For you? Politics isn’t my thing, but this isn’t great, right?”

  He shrugged. “Seen worse.”

  She scrolled down and back up again. “They make you sound like a caveman, yanking me out of a bar.”

  “They said you were hot.” He took the phone and tossed it toward the end of the bed. “Can’t fault them for the truth.”

  “God, if I’d just walked out, none of this—”

  “You can’t second-guess yourself, and you know that everything I do is tracked by the local news.”

  She rolled her eyes then tried to smooth her hair. “Yeah, the man who hits every eligible bachelor list in the United States is tracked by just the local news.”

  Shit. What was he thinking? This picture pinpointed exactly where Jenny was and that she meant more to him than just his little sister’s best friend.

  His phone rang, but he ignored it. A gut feeling said nothing good was on the other end of that call.

  “Hey.” Jenny rolled to face him. “You okay?”

  The phone rang again. He rubbed his face. Everything he did was calculated, but last night was not, and the sudden realization of the repercussions made his stomach sink. He grabbed the phone. Caller ID showed FBI Agent Murphy. He accepted the call and closed his eyes.

  Asher took a deep breath. “Think I have a problem.”

  Jenny’s face fell, mumbling, “Guess not.”

  “Yeah, I’ll say,” Murphy grumbled. “You didn’t mention that Jenny Chase was more than your little sister’s best friend. That changes a few things.”

  “It’s a recent development.”

  Murphy laughed. “Yeah, well, guess those things happen. You also didn’t mention that Jenny Chase is the sister-in-law of Jared Westin.”

  Asher’s mind stumbled, and he coughed. “Excuse me?”

  “Guess you’re having quite the morning, aren’t you, Congressman?”

  His mind reeled. Habit almost had him correcting Murphy to call him Asher, but the bigger concern was Jared Westin. “I’ll call you back.”

  He hung up, dropped the phone, and rubbed his temples. “Sugar married Jared Westin?”

  Jenny nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

  His mind raced. Jared Westin ran Titan Group, and they were more than qualified to protect Jenny than half the FBI. Given Titan’s leeway with the law and its connections with everyone from the president to the director of the CIA, it would’ve been beneficial to know. That, and Jared would want to know if there was a threat against Jenny. The man had a ruthless bastard streak to him, and Asher was sure not being filled in on threats to extended family didn’t conjure up a good attitude.

  He pinched his eyes shut. Actually, why hadn’t Titan shown up unannounced for protective detail? Only one reason.

  “You didn’t mention the notes to Sugar?”

  Jenny shook her head. “She’s just back from her honeymoon. Why get her in a tizzy?”

  His stomach churned. He was very good at his job. Titan was very good at theirs. Much better than any resource Asher could call up, and he was man enough to admit that. “Because you were threatened. Because I can’t be with you twenty-four hours a day, and Titan can offer far more in terms of protection than I can sleeping on your couch.”

  “You didn’t sleep on the couch last night.” Her smile flirted with him as she played the innocent card. “Besides, I don’t think that’s what Titan does. They take out war lords and cartel kings or whatever.”

  “Trust me when I say no one really knows exactly what Titan does.” He checked the time and was a minute late for the campaign call. “Forget what you think you know about them, and call your sister.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jenny rubbed her eyes and wished her duffel bag had made it to the apartment. Until she was able to get it, she had no face wash, no makeup, and no clean clothes.

  But she did have her sister on the phone, and the familial inquisition was reaching a boiling point. Sugar said something to someone in the background. Jenny could only assume it was Jared, and why that made her uneasy, she couldn’t pinpoint. Titan was just a little overwhelming. Some of Sugar’s customers purchased antique pistols. Titan bulk-ordered special-order grenade launchers.

  Sugar came back to the phone. “Walk me through this one more time, Jenny.”

  She sighed. “Okay—”

  “Jenny.” Jared had the phone now. Her brother-in-law wasn’t scary until he was pissed off. Right about now, he sounded pissed. Probably not at her. But still, the scary attitude was loud and clear. “I’ll have a team in New York to meet with you and McIntyre by the afternoon.”

  “I have rehearsals.” And she had no idea why she said that lame-ass excuse, other than everyone starting to treat her like her life was really in danger made it seem... really in danger.

  Jared laughed, but it sounded a little like a grumble. “A wannabe Special Forces nutcase takes a picture of you, and you think your rehearsals are going to slow my men down?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Smart girl.” Sugar said something in the background, but Jenny couldn’t hear it. Jared continued, “So you and Asher McIntyre?”

  Her cheeks burned. The whole world apparently wanted to ask that question, and she didn’t really know what to say or what Asher thought. Like all of a sudden, it was a topic of conversation when she had barely come to grips with the man even wanting to kiss her. And that had been yesterday.

  “Maybe. I don’t know…”

  …why I’m talking to Jared about Asher?

  …how to respond to that question?

  …what I hope Asher’s answer to Jared’s question would be?

  There were a million ways she could finish that sentence. For as confident as she’d felt last night, this morning was a cold splash of uncertainties.

  “McIntyre’s not stupid. Neither are you. But if he hurts you, he’ll never see Election Day.”

  Oh. “I, um…”

  Jared laughed. “Looks like you got the older brother you never wished you had, kid. Blame Sugar.”

  Asher’s call had ended, and he walked over to her. “That’s Sugar?”

  “Jared,” she whispered.

  Jared growled in her ear. “That McIntyre?”

  “Yes,” Jenny said into the phone. “He had me call you guys. Guess he was making sure I did it.”

  Jared grunted, but it sounded like an approvi
ng sound. “Guess not all politicians are morons. Until my boys show up, don’t leave that man’s side.”

  She watched Asher stretch as he walked back toward the bedroom. No problem.

  ***

  Asher kept an eye on Jenny while he sat with Ricky and two men who came from Titan. Roman and Rocco. They seemed like decent guys, though they had only arrived two minutes ago, and he hadn’t felt them out yet. But Asher approved of their give-me-a-reason-to-kill-you- look and was a fan of anyone who walked in the door with a plan. No pleasantries. Just a this is what we’re going to do.

  Plus, Jenny had met them at Sugar’s wedding reception. Judging by the men’s demeanors, they were personally affronted that Maxwell had stepped inside their world and threatened someone they knew. Asher approved.

  Rocco shifted in the theatre’s auditorium chair. “So that’s our plan. Ricky stays in place. We stay nearby after running through a few quick security measures. FBI tracks Maxwell down, and we’ll all be home by the end of the week.”

  Ricky nodded to him. “Mr. Congressman.” He twirled a string of sequins around his finger and snapped it at Asher’s knee. “How might you be staying safe while all this is happening?”

  He’d been waiting for Ricky to ask that. Murphy had asked as well when Asher had spoken with him earlier about Titan Group picking up the lead on Jenny’s protective detail. She was a bigger target now that a few reports decreed her a “newsworthy flame.”

  “Flavor of the week,” as some jerk blogger had said. Asher had given his pit bull of a press secretary the go-ahead to tear that asshole apart.

  The phone he used for campaign work buzzed. The other cell phone he carried for official business did the same. Ricky’s phone rang. They both looked away from the stage and to their phones. Rocco and Roman looked at them. The timing was odd.

  The fire alarm blared. Roman and Rocco jumped up. Ricky stepped to Asher, no longer playing the acting-choreography coach but morphing into the well-trained man that Asher knew well.