Frost Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  “Come on, fucker,” he called as he brought his fists up in front of his face and rolled his shoulders to loosen them up. “Happy hour’s going, and I ain’t got all day.”

  I slammed the Jeep’s door shut, thumbed my nose, and spat to the side. Okay, if things went bad—or worse, I guess—there was one of me and five of them. They all looked pretty rough around the edges, which meant they probably knew how to fight, and how to fight dirty. I had to keep my face covered and cushion my head if they knocked me to the ground, as well as support my kidneys. As a shifter, I healed fast, but I could still be knocked unconscious if I wasn’t careful.

  I could work with this. After all, I only had Big Bear to deal with, right? And, as soon as I stomped him into the ground, I could get back on the road and make sure Jessica was alright. I marched up to him, fists at my side. “You know I don’t want to do this,” I told him.

  “Fight me?”

  “More like kick your ass, but sure, whatever makes you feel better.”

  A big toothy grin broke his coal black beard as we shuffled towards each other, keeping our stances tight and firm, our heads down low and behind our fists.

  He swung first, a quick right jab that came hard. I sidestepped and blocked, and jabbed him in the ribs with my own right. He barely reacted and slammed into my jaw with his left fist before I could get away.

  Stars burst behind my eyes as my steps faltered a little, and I stumbled back from him.

  “Guess you’re a lefty,” I said as I touched my smarting chin and blinked the splotches away. I couldn’t take many of those, even with my faster-than-normal healing, and I knew it.

  “Guessed right, asshole,” he said, urging me forward with a wave of his hand as his biker buddies cheered and jeered behind him.

  Damn, that had been one hell of a rightie earlier, though. This guy hit like a freight train rolling downhill at ten times the OSHA-approved safety limit. I needed to rethink my strategy here.

  Before I could, though, he was back on me, his hands everywhere and moving fast. His buddies urged him on, their voices loud and raucous on the stretch of empty road, echoing off the barren cliff face beside us.

  I knew I didn’t have a chance in a straight-up boxing match with this guy. He outweighed me and out-reached me. Every time I’d try to hit him, he’d be able to block me or counterpunch me into next week. So, I took a different tack. On defense now, I blocked almost all of his swings and made no counters. Each one hit like a truck as I desperately tried to find an opening, a way to try and get to him. I was too busy blocking, though, to get back on the attack.

  I could tell Big Bear was already getting out of breath.

  Any kind of fight takes a lot out of you, and if you’re not specifically training for endurance, you’re not going to last long. Thankfully, Peter made us run with the sand bag every weekend to keep us in shape. Sprint up the hill with the seventy-five pound bag in your arms, throw it to the ground, wrestle and punch it like your life depends on it, grab the bag, and sprint some more. Repeat ad nauseam, literally. He doesn’t let up till we’re puking in the pine needles, swearing to him how much we hate him between gasps.

  Beads of sweat dotted Big Bear’s forehead and his chest was heaving. I had a sneaking suspicion that he hadn’t had a fight last this long in quite a while, and had never thought to really train for it. He gasped for another breath and swung again. This time, his punch had lost some of that notable ‘oomph’ from before.

  Finally, I did what he’d never expect. Not with a guy so much smaller than him, even though I was pretty damn big in my own right. I rushed him, head down, and wrapped my arms around his waist.

  Big Bear planted his feet in the gravel, laughing almost he as pounded his ham-hock fists into my back. He stopped sliding backwards, but only because I’d stopped shoving.

  I shot my hands down grabbed the back of his thighs and lifted.

  “The fuck?” he yelled as I heaved him into the air by his middle.

  In the air, I positioned him so his back was right at the ground.

  He flailed his fists at me again. With how close I was, and how tired he’d already become, each punch just glanced off my head and shoulders, barely phasing me.

  With a roar like an old hot rod, I slammed him into the ground with a resounding crash, knocking the wind from him as I pinned him to the ground like a spear from heaven. As I was just about to climb on top of him to straddle his torso and pin his arms to the ground, I looked up. I realized then that my earlier roar hadn’t been my own, and that crash hadn’t been Big Bear and me going down.

  No, it had been Frank O’Dwyer, one of my pack mates! He’d put his old silver Shelby Mustang into a slide and gone right through the line of Skull and Bones bikes, sending them flying as he came through like a bowling ball.

  All around me were toppled motorcycles and broken bikers, the men screaming on the ground as Frank hopped from his car, its engine still rumbling like a panther.

  “Murdoch!” he yelled, sliding across the hood of his now scratched up and dented Mustang like some 80’s badass, sidearm already drawn as his combat boots hit the highway’s surface at a run.

  I slammed my fist into Big Bear’s face, knocking his head back into the asphalt. “Frank!” I called back, glancing up at him.

  “What the fuck, buddy?” Frank yelled, his pistol’s barrel directed to the ground. At least he had enough sense not to start picking up targets without knowing exactly what was going on. “What the hell you doing?”

  “What does it look like?” I yelled from on top of Big Bear, punching him in the nose and causing blood to splatter all over his face. “Fighting bikers!”

  All around us, the Bonesmen were getting to their feet shakily. As if by unspoken command, they clamored for their bikes. They were leaving, I realized. Still, I was impressed they could even move. It’s not every day an old sportscar slams your bike into you like that.

  I climbed off Big Bear, who didn’t have any fight left in him as far as I could tell, and one of the guys came over and helped him regain his wobbly legs.

  I moved back from him, my eyes darting around as I checked out the men around us.

  He looked at me around his already swelling nose. “This ain’t over.”

  “What the fuck, man?” I said, my fists back up in front of my face. “It wasn’t my ass that ended up on the ground, getting helped up by his buddies.”

  Big Bear hocked up a big bloody loogie and spat it to the side, dangerously close to my feet. “Fuck you!” he growled. “Your buddy showed up to help you.”

  “He showed up after I kicked your ass!” I reminded him.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Then this ain’t over cause of our bikes.” Behind him, his buddies were already getting their bikes turned around, pointed back to Enchanted Rock. They were keeping one eye on Frank, who still had his pistol at the ready, and one eye on me.

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. You call my secretary and set up my rematch. Just leave the girl out of this, or I’ll do worse than beat your ass next time.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t back up, bitch,” he growled.

  “Fine, whatever.” I replied. “Guess I’ll see around then. Meanwhile, you just take your trashy asses out of here. Next time I see you in my town, though, I won’t be as fucking nice as I was today. Hear me?”

  He growled again and started to go after me, but his buddy that was holding him up and helping to keep him balanced, pulled him back. “Nah, Bo, this shit’s over for now.”

  Big Bear glanced down at him where he was tucked beneath his armpit, and growled again as he looked back at me. “Be seeing you, asshole.”

  “Yeah, Bo,” I said. “I’ll be looking forward to our next conversation.” I would have air-quoted the last part, but he was still within swinging distance.

  He growled again, then his buddy helped him over to his bike, one of the only ones still standing from Frank’s powerslide.

  As they started th
eir bikes, I looked at Frank. “You came north on the highway, right?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a nod, his eyes still locked on the bikers as they started up their bikes and headed back to Enchanted Rock.

  “Did you see a red Jetta on the way here?”

  “Now that you mention it,” he said, frowning slightly, “I did. Off on the side of the road, looked broken down. Why?”

  My heat started pumping again in full throttle. I knew they’d had a reason for cutting me off from her!

  “Shit!” I shouted as I ran back to my Jeep and reloaded my pistol and shoved it in my holster.

  “What?” Frank asked as he came around to my driver side.

  “That was our client,” I explained as I started up the Jeep. “They cut me off from her.”

  He nodded. “Meet you there!” He was off in a flash, running around to hop back in his Mustang.

  This was all my fault. I shouldn’t have lagged so far behind her. I should have just done what Frnak did and rammed through those bikers when they’d blockaded my way down the road. Would’ve served those fuckers right to have this much domestic steel rammed right up their hairy asses.

  I took off before Frank could even get the door open and climb inside.

  I just hoped Jessica was okay. I didn’t know what I’d do with myself if they’d even hurt a hair on her head. Not just because she was my client, either. This was something else. Something more.

  Chapter Twenty-six – Jessica

  I was a little shaken up, but after a quick self-evaluation, I felt fine overall. I’d never been driven off the road like that before, so at least it was a new experience.

  A little adventure, I thought sardonically.

  Admittedly, I didn’t ever want to do it again, but at least I wasn’t hurt, as far as I could tell. My airbag hadn’t even deployed, and I hadn’t been knocked around at all by the crash.

  My little Jetta, on the other hand, was screwed. One of the rocks I’d driven over when the black truck had slammed me off the road had done something to my undercarriage, and oil was pooling beneath my car. And, on top of that, I’d had to kick the driver’s side door open to even get out. The double slam from my stalker had messed up those panels pretty thoroughly.

  I didn’t know what I’d do. Between the gallery going under, the crazy bikers that were apparently now out for blood, and my wrecked car, my whole life had just completely turned upside down.

  And, God, what had happened to Richard? He still hadn’t shown up, and the distance he’d left between us shouldn’t have been more than a few moment’s drive. He should have been right behind me already. I could feel the tears beginning to form in my eyes again as I thought of his body mangled at the bottom of the valley, my ultimate fate shifted to him somehow.

  What if they’d hurt him, too, somehow? All because of me not turning over my stupid gallery when Wyatt Axelrod had demanded it. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to him because of me. I didn’t care if it was his job to stand in harm’s way or not. I turned and kicked my tire, frustrated, a couple tears spilling down my cheeks.

  All of a sudden, as if God himself heard my thoughts, I heard the sound of his Jeep as he came driving around the corner.

  I looked back at him as he crunched to a halt behind my car as my misty eyes locked with his own frantic gaze.

  “Fuck, Jessica!” he yelled as he leaped from the Jeep and came running to me, his eyes wide with obvious fear, blood dripping from his lips. “I’m so sorry! Some Skull and Bones bikers cut me off just as I lost sight of you!”

  My heart sang as he came running to me, and my tears of fear turned to ones of relief. “Sorry?” I asked in a half-sob, meeting him halfway as I sniffled. “What the hell happened to you? What are you sorry for?”

  “I wasn’t here,” he said, putting an arm around my waist and pulling me into a warm, strong hug before either of us realized what he was doing. “Are you okay?” he nearly whispered in my ear.

  A shiver went through my body as I relaxed into his arms and lay my head against his chest, tears soaking his shirt.

  “Yeah, it was just a fender bender,” I replied with a sniff, pulling back from him so I could take a look at his bloodied face, at his already scabbing lips. I explained to him about the truck and told him about what happened. I reached up, forgetting that we didn’t have a relationship to speak of, and touched his chin. “What about you? You’re all bloody.”

  He winced and brushed my hand from his face. “Some of those Skull and Bones bikers came up from behind and cut me off. Got into a fight with one of them before Frank came and kept me from kicking his ass,” he said. He brushed a tear away with his thumb. “Besides, I’m not the one that’s traumatized,” he continued as the old Mustang I’d seen earlier came barreling up and parked right behind Richard’s Jeep. With all these vehicles piling up, the side of the highway was starting to look like a parking lot.

  Another tall, equally heart-throbbing hunk climbed out of the car. Rather than blonde and clean shaven like Richard, this one had dark brown hair and a well-trimmed goatee.

  “Everyone okay?” he called as Richard broke away from me, almost as if he was embarrassed by our moment of intimacy.

  “Yeah, Frank,” Richard called back. “Client’s fine.”

  At first I was hurt by his pulling away from me so suddenly, but then I realized this was another one of the security guys, the one who’d helped with the fight Richard had been in. If sleeping at my cabin the previous night had been against protocol and required special approval from Richard’s boss, then hugging a client and sharing a moment after a traumatic event, like we just had, certainly was too.

  “Frank, meet Jessica Long. Jessica, meet Frank O’Dwyer. He’s back up from Denver, and will be helping us out on your protection detail.”

  Frank grinned a little as he came towards me, his boots crunching over the gravel with every step. He was a little shorter than Richard, but he was definitely broader. He looked like the body building type, and, just like Richard, he exuded that same vibe of quiet danger. Not necessarily the kind of guy I’d personally go for, but I could see why Sheila would have been so enamored with this one.

  “Jessica,” he said in a strong Texas twang, offering his worn, rugged hand, “a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” I replied, taking it firmly.

  Frank craned his head around me and looked down at the pool of motor oil forming around one of the wheels. “Car’s fucked,” he said, not even attempting to sugarcoat things.

  Richard glanced down, and nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, but then looked to me. “But you’re safe, right? Cars can get fixed faster than people.”

  “Cheaper, too,” Frank agreed.

  I nodded and smiled, reassured a little. They were right. I might be stuck between a rock and a crazy biker gang, but at least I was alive.

  Richard set his eyes on me. “Safe house?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, not even having to consider it any longer.

  “Good,” he replied, then addressed Frank. “Get a wrecker out here to pick up her car while I run her back to her place. I want to get her moved fast.”

  “Gotcha covered,” he said, nodding curtly. “I’ll get the cabin stocked full of fixings, too, while you guys get her packed. Fresh meats, everything you’ll need for a few days. The whole nine yards.” He turned and headed back to his Mustang without saying another word, his phone already in hand.

  “Grab your purse,” Richard said to me, “and keys and whatever else you need from your car. We go to your place, we get Eli and Wallach, we get everything else, then we drop off your dogs and head for our bolthole, okay?”

  I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “Sure thing.”

  And, like that, I was headed for a secluded cabin in the woods.

  With Richard. For a few days.

  As I mechanically grabbed my belongings and piled into Richard’s Jeep, I realized that I was way less freaked out than I shoul
d be. Something about his presence just made me feel warm and fuzzy inside, like everything was going to be alright, even if there were moments when they weren’t.

  One part of my brain was terrified by what was happening.

  The other part, though? It was just relieved that Richard was okay.

  Chapter Twenty-seven – Richard

  I swept Jessica’s cabin when we got there while she dealt with getting Eli and Wallach out the back door so they could have a break. The place was clean, as far as I could tell, with no suspicious smells or sounds. But I went ahead and ran through all the rooms again just to be certain.

  Guilt was gnawing away at me still for having gotten separated from her on the road. It was stupid of me to keep so much distance between my car and hers on the highway, and none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been so idiotic. From here on out, I’d have to be more cautious.

  Aside from the guilt, though, my thoughts returned to her and how Frank had caught us in our embrace on the side of the road. That, by itself, was almost as unconscionable as my letting her out of my sight on the road, and totally out of line on my part. What kind of example was I setting for Frank, my nominal subordinate, by getting so close and personal with Jessica? I was just grateful he hadn’t said anything to me, and secretly prayed he wouldn’t say anything to our boss, either.

  But damn, it had felt good to hold her in my arms like that. I’d have fought Big Bear Bo and all his buddies one after the other, or even as a group, for just another chance to feel her pressed against my body like that. There was just something about the way she molded into me, something that felt perfect as I’d felt her breathe against my chest.

  Now, as I stood here next to the front door, peering out of the blinds and watching the road, I couldn’t get the smell of her off me. If I had my way, I’d never wash this shirt again just so I could keep her essence infused with the fabric’s fibers. I felt like a pup again, a pubescent teenage shifter who could hardly keep his emotions in check.