by Lisa Childs
Even through the parka and her scrubs, she could feel the imprint of his hand. She wanted it on her skin, wanted it moving over her body. Despite her best efforts to hang on to that hatred for him, his kiss had awakened something inside her. Something she had ignored for far too long. And now it—that desire—refused to be ignored.
She shivered.
“Nobody’s used the place for a while,” he said. “So the heat probably needs to be turned up.” He moved to a control panel on the inside, pushing buttons that slid the door closed again and had the furnace kicking in with a deep rumble. “It’ll warm up fast.”
She doubted that. The ceiling was high, open rafters, the walls brick and the floors hardwood. It was a nice apartment, but there was nothing warm about it.
He gestured to a doorway off the open living area. “The master suite is through there. If you want to shower and change, there are always different sizes of clothing stocked in the closet.”
“Payne Protection thinks of everything,” she murmured. She only wished she had as well, before she’d played along with his little charade in the parking lot. She’d only intended to disarm him when she’d acted all flirty. She hadn’t thought he would take the charade even further with that kiss.
He nodded. “Yes, they do.”
“I would prefer to have my own clothes,” she said. Not that she had ever been able to afford much, but she would be more comfortable in her own stuff.
“We can send someone to your apartment to pack up some of your things,” he offered.
She shook her head, rejecting the idea of strangers riffling through her belongings. “I want to go myself,” she said.
He snorted. “Are you crazy? You nearly got killed there. You can’t go back there.”
“I can’t stay here until the trial,” she said. “I can’t put my life and my job on hold for weeks.”
“You have to,” he said, “if you’re going to stay alive to make it to the trial. You saw those kids at the hospital. They were looking for you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know that. You’re just trying to scare me.”
“I’m not the one who shot at you,” he said.
“No, you’re the one who threw me out a window.” To save her life...
She knew that was why he’d done it, but she couldn’t let it go. She couldn’t be grateful to him. She needed to stay mad at him. She needed to hate him or she might just start needing him.
And that scared her even more than having men shooting at her.
* * *
Clint flinched as the bedroom door shut behind Rosie. She hadn’t slammed it. And he wasn’t in pain, at least not much. He flinched because he knew she was going to take a shower. She was going to change, and he would be imagining her naked, standing under a spray of water, droplets glistening on her golden skin.
He groaned now.
“You should have taken that prescription for painkillers,” she said through the door. She had heard his groan.
Heat rushed to his face. It was already everywhere else in his body. He’d been burning up since he’d kissed her.
That had been one hell of a mistake. He could taste her still on his lips, on his tongue...
Kissing her had definitely been a mistake. But it was one he wanted to repeat over and over again. First he had to deal with the other mistake he’d made. He drew his cell phone from his pocket. The screen was shattered, the phone blank. He must have broken it when he’d fallen in the dumpster, which probably explained why Parker hadn’t been blowing up his phone since he’d purposely ditched the other Payne Protection SUV.
Because the Payne Protection Agency did think of everything, just like Rosie had said, it was also stocked with extra cell phones. He picked up one from the granite counter, and sure enough, it was already programmed with Parker’s number. He tapped the contact and called him.
“It’s me,” he said when his boss answered.
“Where the hell have you been?” Parker demanded to know.
“At the ER.”
“Are you okay? Is she?” Parker anxiously asked.
Clint sighed as he felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t meant to worry his old friend. “Yeah, yeah, we’re fine. She just insisted that I get stitched up.”
No matter how much she hated him, she hadn’t wanted him to bleed out or get infected. How much did she really hate him? She hadn’t pushed him away when he’d kissed her.
For a moment he’d actually thought her lips had moved beneath his. And her tongue had brushed across his. But had that all just been part of the act?
He hadn’t been acting, though.
“Why the hell did you purposely shake your backup?” Parker asked.
“She didn’t want them all at the hospital,” Clint said. “None of her coworkers know about the trial.”
Parker snorted. “You believe that?”
“No.” But Clint didn’t think she’d lied to him.
It was just that River City, despite being nearly as big as Detroit, was still small-town in some areas, like the one Luther Mills had ruled before his arrest. Hell, he still ruled it even from jail, and the hospital where Rosie worked was within that area.
There was no way her coworkers weren’t aware of what had happened to her brother and that she’d witnessed it. Rosie was just fooling herself about it, like she had so many other things.
He hadn’t forced Javier to become an informant. Her brother had wanted to do it—for her. But Clint wouldn’t tell her that. He would rather carry all the guilt himself than share any with her. She was already in enough pain over her brother’s death. And now she might even lose her life, too.
“She wants to go back to the hospital,” Clint warned his boss.
“You said she’s not hurt.”
“She wants to work,” Clint said.
She wanted to pretend that she wasn’t in danger, that nothing had changed. But she was fooling herself about that, too.
“She can’t,” Parker said. “She’ll get herself killed and probably you, too.”
Clint must have already made it clear to Parker that he wasn’t going to quit the assignment no matter what. Maybe that was what his boss had told Rosie that had convinced her to agree to Clint’s being her bodyguard.
Even a restraining order wouldn’t have gotten him to stay away from her now that he knew how much danger she was in. But was he the right person to protect her?
He’d allowed himself to get distracted in the parking lot. He’d allowed her to distract him.
And even now, hearing the shower running, he could barely focus on his conversation with Parker. He couldn’t think of anything but Rosie, standing naked under the water...
Another groan slipped out.
“I thought you went to the hospital,” Parker said. “What did they do?”
“Stitched me up,” he said.
“Didn’t they give you painkillers?”
“I can’t take any now,” Clint said. He needed to stay alert to any potential threat.
But Rosie was more of a threat to his focus than the painkillers probably would have been.
“You’re in the safe house,” Parker said. The others must have reported his arrival. “So you have backup in place. You can get some rest.”
That was easier said than done with Rosie so close to him, so naked...
“I’m fine,” Clint assured his boss. If only he could convince himself.
“Get some rest,” Parker repeated. “You’re going to need it to deal with her.”
Now the heat in Clint’s body was anger. “What are you talking about? Sure, she’s stubborn, but she—”
“Hates your guts,” Parker said. “You have to keep one eye open for Luther Mills’s crew and the other for her.”
Clint couldn’t argue with that. Rosie had wished him dead b
efore. But if she was going to kill him, she would have done it that day he’d shown up for her brother’s funeral. And she certainly wouldn’t have insisted he get treatment for his shoulder wound if she’d wanted him dead.
“I’ll be fine,” Clint told him.
But his boss cursed and said, “I probably should have given her another bodyguard like she wanted.”
“Why didn’t you?” Clint asked. He’d really thought Parker would try to take him off the assignment—per Rosie’s demand.
“Because I know no one will work harder than you will to protect her.”
Did he know why?
Clint hadn’t mentioned his promise to Javier to anyone else. But the Payne family was notorious for their ability to just know things.
“No one will,” Clint promised. “Thanks for not replacing me.”
“Don’t thank me,” Parker told him. “I don’t think I did the right thing.”
“Why not?” They’d both just agreed that nobody would try harder to protect her.
Parker uttered a ragged sigh that rattled the cell phone. “Because I think this damn assignment will probably wind up getting you killed.”
Clint wanted to argue with his boss, yet he couldn’t. He would gladly give up his life for Rosie’s. And he had a feeling that it just might come down to that before his assignment was over.
Luther Mills had never before let a witness live to testify against him.
* * *
The Payne Protection Agency.
Luther had heard of it. A person couldn’t live in River City and not know about it. But he didn’t just know the agency. He knew Parker Payne.
He leaned back on his bunk and chuckled. Parker Payne had tried for years to take him down. Instead, the former vice cop had nearly been taken down.
Too bad Parker hadn’t died when that hit had been put out on him years ago. So many assassins had tried...and failed. Regrettably.
Maybe Luther should put out another hit on Parker Payne and on every damn bodyguard working for him.
Luther knew all of them. Clint. Hart Fisher. Landon Myers and that little hottie, Keeli Abbott. They were all former vice cops who, like Parker and Clint Quarters, had tried for many years to take down Luther and his organization. But eventually, they’d all given up and quit the River City PD.
Luther ran his fingers over the cell phone that was still warm from his last, long conversation. He’d been apprised of the situation.
The chief knew that Luther had gotten to someone in the police department. Obviously, he didn’t know who yet, or Luther wouldn’t have gotten all the information he just had—that the chief had hired the Payne Protection Agency to guard the witness and everyone else associated with the case against him.
Someday soon, when he was free, he would have to thank Chief Lynch for making it all so easy for him. Now he wouldn’t just take out the witness and the other people going after him, he would take out all those former vice cops as well.
He would take down everyone who had tried to take him down for so many years. But it wouldn’t take him years to accomplish his objective.
Just days.
Or hours.
And all of them would be dead.
Chapter 7
Rosie had never felt so on edge with her nerves so frayed. It probably didn’t help that she hadn’t slept at all the night before. She wanted to blame that on getting shot at, but she knew the real reason: Clint Quarters.
She wished she’d been sleeping and that she had just dreamed that kiss and it had never actually happened. She felt like a traitor to herself—and to Javier.
No matter what he’d said at the end.
She shouldn’t have let Clint Quarters kiss her—even if it had been just to fool whoever Luther might have sent to look for her. She should have shoved Clint away; instead, she’d...
Kissed him back. And she’d wanted to go on kissing him. That was why she’d lain awake the night before, her lips tingling, her body hot despite the cool shower she’d taken.
She’d wanted to kiss him again.
So she’d locked herself in that master bedroom, and she hadn’t come out again until morning. She wasn’t sure where he’d slept or if he’d slept at all. There were dark circles beneath his deep green eyes. The darker gold shadow of his beard was thicker now. He hadn’t shaved. But he’d changed out of the scrubs into jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt.
Heat flashed through her as she remembered him dropping his jeans to change into the scrub pants. He’d worn boxers beneath but the material was knit and had left little to her imagination.
So that she’d been able to tell how tight his ass was, how muscular his thighs and his...
She mentally slapped herself. She needed to snap out of it. She was not attracted to Clint Quarters. Of course, when Javier had first introduced them, she’d thought he was handsome and nice and smart...until she’d discovered what he’d done, that he’d turned Javier into an informant against the most dangerous criminal in River City.
And there had been some very dangerous criminals in River City over the years. Most of them were off the streets now, and if the rumors she’d heard were true, the Payne Protection Agency was responsible for those arrests or deaths.
“Coffee?” Clint asked as he held up a pot he must have just brewed. The rich aroma floated across the granite kitchen counter into the open living room.
“Yes, please,” she murmured, but she hesitated before approaching him. She didn’t trust herself to get too close to him. But then years of training had her asking, “How is your shoulder?”
He grunted.
“You should have taken the prescription for painkillers,” she admonished him. He hadn’t had to play superhero for her. Again. He’d already been her superhero when he’d saved her from the shooters at her apartment.
“We didn’t have time to fill any prescriptions,” he said as he walked around the counter. He held two cups of coffee. One he kept; the other he held out to her.
As she reached for it, her hand trembled slightly. Then her fingers brushed across his, making her skin tingle, and she shook so much she nearly sloshed the hot brew over the rim.
“Careful,” he said as he steadied her hand on the cup.
But that only made her tremble more. Her blood heated from his touch.
“Do you need cream?” he asked. “Milk?”
She shook her head. She needed him. No. She needed to not react to him. He—of all men—could not affect her like this. She took a sip of the coffee before saying, “I don’t think those kids were working for Luther.”
She hoped they weren’t, but then why had they been back in the emergency room area? Anita?
Had she looked the other way to allow them back? Had the security guard?
He hadn’t wanted to let Clint through with his weapon despite his having a permit to carry, until he’d recognized him from when they’d been on the force together. Of course, even the chief thought Luther Mills had a mole in the police department. Maybe the security guard was friends with that mole.
Her head began to pound with all the possibilities. But she couldn’t look for conspiracies everywhere. She couldn’t live her life in constant fear.
“I can get you another prescription when I go to work today,” she offered.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“I told you that I can’t stop living my life,” she said. “I have rent and bills to pay. I have to work.” More for her sanity than for the money. If she was locked up in a house all day with Clint Quarters, she would lose her mind for certain.
Or worse.
No. She was in no danger of losing her heart to Clint Quarters. Not to the man who had caused her brother’s death.
“You have to testify,” Clint said. “And if you don’t stay here, you’re not going to
live to do that.”
She sighed. “And here your boss convinced me you were the best bodyguard for the job.”
“I am.”
“You must not be that good if you don’t think you can protect me if we leave here,” she said, purposely goading him.
He narrowed his eyes. “I have protected you.”
“So it’s settled,” she said. “I’ll put on my scrubs.” She’d found some loose yoga pants and an oversize T-shirt in the closet that she’d worn to sleep in. “And you’ll take me to the hospital.”
“No!”
She ignored him, set the mug back on the counter and headed toward the bedroom. But she didn’t get far before a big hand wrapped around her arm and stopped her short.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said.
She turned back and glared at him. “You’re my bodyguard,” she said. “Not my jailer. I’m not the one under arrest. Luther is.”
“Rosie—”
Before he could say anything else, the panel next to the door buzzed. He tensed and removed his hand from her arm in order to draw his weapon.
Then a voice emanated from the speaker next to the door. “Hey, Clint, it’s Landon. I’ve brought ADA Gerber to speak with Ms. Mendez.”
“Good,” Clint said as he holstered his weapon and walked over to open the door.
Maybe it was good for him, but it wasn’t good for Rosie. She still intended to go to work. So with his hand removed from her arm, she headed into the bedroom and changed into her scrubs just as she’d intended.
Fortunately there was a washer and dryer in the master closet, so she’d washed them. They smelled fresh as she pulled them on. She clipped on her ID badge before opening the bedroom door again.
The three people in the living room must have been watching it because they were all staring at her as she stepped out. Clint had his coffee cup in his hand again as he leaned back against the counter.
Another man stood near him. He was even bigger and broader than Clint was, with thick, unruly-looking brown hair and brown eyes. That must have been Landon.
Ms. Gerber looked as gorgeous as ever in a suit with a tight skirt. Her black hair hung like a silk curtain around her slender shoulders. She looked more like a model than an assistant district attorney.
