Darkest Night

by Megan Erickson

  And now she was willingly placing herself in a small space with a man who could and already did overpower her. Wren had said to trust him, and even though it’d been a while since Fiona had seen her friend, she knew Wren had always cared and looked out for her.

  When they reached the courtyard, Jock dropped the leash and Sundance dutifully trotted around, sniffing at flowers and digging up some dirt. She sat on a stone bench, still warm from the daytime sun.

  Jock didn’t sit. He stood at the end of the bench, thick arms across his chest, looming over her. It was weird. After five minutes of said looming, she was over it. “Can you sit down?”

  He looked down at her with that frustratingly blank expression. Was he part cyborg? Maybe that was how they made hackers now. Half machines themselves. “Sit?” he asked.

  “Yeah, you’re…looming.”

  “‘Looming’?”

  “Yes, looming. It’s making me nervous.”

  He sat promptly, as if those were magic words. His body took up three-quarters of the bench as he spread his massive thighs and leaned his elbows on his knees, head still up as he scanned the courtyard.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled, but he didn’t react.

  There were worse things, she figured, than a silent bodyguard. What if he hummed? People who hummed nonstop were the worst. She ran her finger over a small hole in the knee of her jeans. “So, what happens now?”

  Again he had one eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” She gestured vaguely. “Are you going to go back to lurking invisibly? Are you leaving? What?”

  “I’m not leaving,” he said like that was the stupidest suggestion ever. “Made a commitment to your safety and intend to see it through.”

  “Okayyyy, but—”

  He straightened and twisted at the waist to face her. “How much you see me is up to you. Got an apartment where I sleep and work, so no need to crash your place. You want someone to run your errands? I’m here. Want someone to watch over you at the dog park?” He jerked a thumb at his chest. “Me.”

  This was all so weird. Who was this guy? “I don’t get it. I can’t pay you—”

  He made a disgusted sound in his throat.

  “I’m just saying, I’m confused how this is possible for you—”

  “I have plenty of money. More than I need. Can’t take it with you when you die.”

  Must be nice. She was in constant danger of her electric being shut off. “Don’t you have family, friends—”

  “Nope.”

  She smacked her thigh to draw his attention. “Can you stop interrupting me?”

  He jerked at her raised voice and then bowed his head slightly. “Sorry.”

  “I get the impression you don’t like to talk or answer questions, but you have to understand I need answers. My instincts have gotten me this far. I can’t ignore them when they question why I’m going to trust a strange man.”

  Shit, the telltale prickle of tears burned her eyes. She didn’t want to cry, but this was a lot in one day. She’d learned that horrible event in her past was resurfacing, and she now had a six-foot-something bodyguard. Sundance trotted over like he sensed her distress, and nudged her hand. She rubbed his ears and he panted, his moist breath blasting her leg.

  Beside her, Jock sighed heavily. “This isn’t normal for me. I prefer the anonymity of working from behind the computer. Letting you see me was a mistake, and I’m not trained to…to…”

  “Deal with humans?” she finished with a slight smile. The man was trying; she had to hand it to him.

  “Yes.” He blew out a relieved breath.

  “But you can protect me physically, too?”

  This time he met her gaze square-on. “I can protect you in every way.”

  The intensity in his eyes was too much for her. She looked away, focusing on Sundance, even as the words sunk into her bones like a drug. He could protect her. He would protect her. He’d had the chance to kill her or kidnap her about five times now, and he obviously hadn’t. “I don’t know why you’re doing this for me, but thank you.”

  He didn’t respond, only reached out and ruffled Sundance’s ears.

  “So, what do you know about me?” she asked.

  “You write freelance, mostly listicles and quizzes. You like romance and mystery books that you either read on your Kindle app or buy from the used paperback store over on King. You take Sundance to the dog park every three days, and when you’re not looking he likes to flirt with that golden retriever.”

  For some reason, she latched on to the last thing and ignored everything else. “I knew it,” she hissed dramatically. She glared at Sundance. “You hussy.”

  Jock’s lips tilted up at the corners, the first semblance of a smile she’d seen from him. “You burn grilled cheese but make great omelets.”

  “How the hell do you know that? Do you have cameras in my apartment?” The thought that he’d been watching her…

  He shook his head and tapped his nose. “I can smell everything you burn.”

  “You can smell it?” What kind of cyborg was he?

  Then he laughed, a rusty sound that rumbled up his chest and burst from his mouth. “I’m kidding. You wrote it in an article that I read.”

  She snapped her jaw shut and slumped on the bench with relief. “Don’t freak me out like that again.”

  He rubbed his palms together, his gaze on his hands. “I couldn’t put cameras on you. To spy. Thought you’d been through enough.”

  Her hulking bodyguard had a conscience. And it occurred to her now that he knew. He knew everything about her and her past. Her stomach twisted painfully. “So you know. What happened to me.”

  He looked at her sharply. “It didn’t just happen to you. They did that to you. Blame is on them. And as soon as we get any sort of idea how to find who’s behind this, I’ll be first in line to make them hurt. Understand?”

  She’d never met a man this intense. His words, when he finally did speak, dripped with determination and confidence. Something fluttered in her stomach, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Sexual attraction. To a real human being sitting in front of her, not harmless porn on her phone in the dark.

  She nodded and looked back at Sundance, thankful he was the perfect distraction. Attraction to Jock was stupid. This was a job to him, another duty in a long line of them, she was sure. She was merely a body he meant to protect, and he wanted to take down the men who were criminals. Pure and simple. This wasn’t personal for him. Not like it was for her.

  He was a bodyguard to keep her safe. Don’t make it a thing, Fiona, she thought to herself.

  Jock stood next to her. “Up,” he said, like she was a dog, and she didn’t even bother to argue. Maybe tomorrow she’d establish better boundaries. Right now, she was too tired. The sun had set so the only light in the courtyard came from a couple of yellow pole lights. She stood up and grabbed Sundance’s leash, walking ahead of Jock.

  She had to admit that not having to look over her shoulder all the time, to have him back there doing it for her, was a relief.

  But what would happen once he left? He wasn’t going to stay with her forever. That was crazy. When it was just her and Sundance again, would her instincts still be as sharp? Would she forget how to watch her back?

  She’d never relied on anyone. Her parents had only gotten married when her mother got pregnant, and they’d divorced before she entered elementary school. Her father quickly remarried and started another family while Fiona’s mother—who’d never been a pleasant woman—worked nonstop. Fiona learned at a young age how to do just about every household chore herself, from cooking to cleaning. She’d grown up like this, so relying on someone else was foreign to her.

  By the time they made it back to her apartment, a headache had her feeling like her head was crushed in a vise.

  Jock closed the door of her apartment but didn’t stray far from it while she poured fresh water for Sundance. She downed a
couple of Advil dry before turning to Jock.

  “I’m up on the fifth floor. 5H. If you need me. Number’s already programmed in your phone.” He handed it to her with no explanation of how he’d gotten it or when he’d had the time to type in his number. She didn’t bother asking. Maybe one day she’d get him to spill more secrets.

  “Thanks,” she muttered.

  With a nod and one more lingering look he walked out, closing the door behind him. She stared after him, feeling, for the first time in a long time, not alone.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Her hands scorched up his back, nails digging into his skin, and he grunted, wanting more pressure, wanting her marks.

  “Jamison,” Fiona panted in his ear as her tight heat clamped around his cock. “Fuck me.”

  He rolled onto his back and thrust up into her. She moaned as he held tight to her hair, wrapping it around his fingers. The softness brushed his chest, his neck, his face. He was surrounded by her scent and the sound of their bodies colliding. He tried to speak, to tell her how perfect she was, how fucking amazing she felt sprawled on top of him, skin to skin. Her body trembled and her nails dug into his shoulders as she braced herself above him. He was almost there, the feeling of his impending orgasm speeding down his spine like a bullet.

  Her hips stuttered. “Jamison,” she said on a moan, continuing to thrust. His real name on her lips was fucking heaven to his ears.

  He tried to speak again, but then something wet trickled down his chest. He glanced down to see red rivulets of blood from where she’d pierced him with her nails. The drops turned into spurts, hot gushes of fresh blood, coating his chest, slipping down his sides to wet the sheets.

  “Jamison!” The urgency in her voice had him jerking his head to face her. Her eyes were wild, unfocused, her mouth dropping open as she continued to ride his cock in frenzied thrusts.

  The pain hit him then, daggers in his shoulders, from her nails digging into his flesh, muscle, scraping his bone.

  “Fiona!” he finally shouted, his voice sandpaper rough.

  “Jock!” she screamed as mascara-tinted tears streamed down her face, mixing with the blood on his chest. Fuck, his vision blurred as he tried to figure out what was going on.

  Something was tugging her off him and she clung harder, her hands coated in his blood. “Save me!” she cried.

  He tried to hold Fiona to him even as something was yanking her away. He wrapped his arms around her naked body but his skin was slick with blood and he was weak, so weak. Why so much blood? His vision darkened. “Fiona!” He blinked rapidly. Where was his gun?

  “J!” she shouted, and then she was gone, her body pulled into the darkness, out of his arms.

  “Fiona!” he shouted, his bloody hands grasping at nothing but air.

  Jock bolted upright on his mattress, clutching his chest, swiping at the blood but only finding clean, dry skin. He breathed deep, heart racing, whipping his head around his darkened apartment, looking for Fiona.

  He blinked, his brain slowly filtering out his dream from reality. He peered at his shoulders, rubbing them but not finding any wounds, no blood. Nothing. He was, however, hard as a fucking rock, his cock an iron bar in his boxers.

  A dream. A dream that turned into a nightmare. But it wasn’t real. Not real. Jesus, would this be how the mission went? Him dreaming of fucking his charge? Because that was not okay. For fuck’s sake, why did his unconscious have to be a horny bastard? He hadn’t had sex dreams since he was a teenager.

  Save me. Fiona’s voice echoed to him in the dark. He scrambled on the floor for his phone and pressed a button. It rang three times before a soft voice said, “Hello?”

  “You okay?” he asked, trying hard to keep his voice calm.

  “Jock?”

  “Who else? You okay?”

  There was a rustle, like she was turning in her sheets. He swallowed hard as his cock throbbed.

  “Um…” She yawned. “It’s two a.m.”

  “Didn’t ask the time, asked if you were okay.”

  “Right.” There was a smile to her voice. “Well then yes, I’m okay.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “Uh, not really. I sleep in fits a lot.”

  He didn’t like that. She should be getting a solid eight hours. “’Kay, get some rest.”

  “Is that an order?” Her bedroom voice was killing him.

  “Yeah.”

  “’Kay, will do, Jock.”

  “Later.”

  He hung up and tossed his phone on the floor and then fell back onto the bed with a groan, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. His dick could fucking deal. He wouldn’t be getting anywhere between the legs of Fiona Madden, and that was that.

  Now if he could just tell his subconscious that, maybe he’d make it through this mission without losing his goddamn mind.

  * * *

  The first half of the night Fiona hadn’t slept well. Sundance was fine, snoring in his bed beside hers, but she tossed and turned, thinking about Jock. Would she see him every day? She still had to work. It wasn’t like she could sit and talk with him in her apartment all day. Then the image of Jock’s big body sitting in her kitchen while they drank tea and chit-chatted made her smile. Yeah, she didn’t think she’d have to worry about him trying to take up her time with conversation.

  Then Jock had called to check on her, which was weird, yet his order for her to get some sleep was something her body obeyed. She’d hung up the phone and fallen asleep.

  When the sun came up and she was awake again, she felt like she could have slept a whole extra day. Her shoulders hurt from firing her gun and she was still shaky from yesterday’s panic attack. Which…she didn’t really want to think about that. The way that her throat had closed and her mind spun had been fucking terrifying, and no training could have prepared her or stopped her body’s natural reaction.

  She’d been so confident that she was prepared for what could happen, but her meeting with Jock proved her one-woman show wasn’t as strong as she thought it’d been.

  When the sun rose she stared at the ceiling until Sundance got up, stretched, and began to nudge her. She let him lick her fingers with his long tongue. She ruffled his ears, and he sat on his haunches and let out a soft woof.

  “I know, I know, you have to go out.”

  She rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of leggings and a hoodie. She let her hair down, not bothering to fuss with it. A long time ago it’d been a source of vanity to her; now she contemplated chopping it off just about every day.

  By the time she’d let Sundance do his business and then climbed the stairs back to her apartment, she was yawning and irritable. And oh shit, she just remembered she didn’t have enough coffee. She’d meant to get some yesterday with her groceries.

  A movement by her door had her jerking her head up but it was only Jock, standing with his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall outside her door. He had on the same shirt he’d worn yesterday, minus the stain.

  Her eyes remained glued to his chest because she wasn’t sure anyone who was attracted to men could look away from a chest like that. “You really do own several of the same shirt, huh?”

  He didn’t answer her, probably because he was wearing the answer. She almost asked him to be a little considerate and buy a bigger size, but she kept that to herself. His damn pecs were distracting, not to mention his biceps.

  He straightened from the wall and picked up several plastic bags at his feet. She frowned at them. “What’s in there?”

  “Supplies.”

  “Supplies for what?”

  “You.”

  She’d been the recipient of random acts of kindness over the years, like that time she’d gone to the grocery store but forgotten her wallet. She’d only wanted some peanut butter and jelly to tide her over until her next paycheck. The woman behind her had paid for her groceries, no questions asked.

  But this…this wasn’t a random act of kindness. T
his was a man doing things for her, things that would probably make her feel indebted to him. Did she want that? “Is this a thing where you’re going to say I owe you?”

  He gave her that look again, like he was disgusted. “Owe you?”

  “Yeah, you’re buying me supplies, basically working for me, and I don’t—”

  “Open your door.”

  “You’re interrupting me again.”

  “Not having this conversation in the hallway, babe. Open the door.”

  Her eyeballs bulged. She actually felt them swell in her skull. “Did you just call me ‘babe’?”

  He inhaled deeply, his eyes sliding shut for a moment, before he exhaled with a flare of his nostrils. “Open. Your door.”

  They were going to have words, but those words would be said inside because she did have nosey neighbors. She imagined Marlene was across the hall with her ear to the door right now.

  So Fiona flung open the door and marched inside. After pouring Sundance’s food into his dish and fetching him fresh water, she rounded on the man who’d crashed into her life. He was unpacking his supplies on her counter while she fumed five feet away.

  Her kitchen was now littered with a smoke detector, surge protector, new router, and several other odds and ends she couldn’t identify. Finally Jock leaned his hands on the counter and looked up at her. “There is no owing in this. None. This is my job to watch over you, and I take it seriously. You don’t have to like me or be kind to me. I don’t really give a fuck. But one thing you won’t do is assume I think you owe me.”

  He held her gaze for a long time as she processed what he’d said. Of course she wouldn’t be unkind to him. No matter if it was his job or not, he was here for her benefit. Something she was thankful for. “I’m sorry. I’ve been alone for a long time, and one thing that’s nice about that is never feeling like you’re indebted to someone.”

  He nodded. “I get that.”

  “And I do appreciate what you’re doing. I…” She looked away, the memory from yesterday threatening to swamp her. “I thought I was strong, and then yesterday, when you told me they were looking for me, I…”