“He should have,” Brick agreed. Leaning back in the seat, he closed his eyes for a moment. He already had a headache.
“There’s more,” Sterling said as Elias pulled up behind them. “No changing her routine. We cannot talk to her with anything other than respect. When she gets nervous, she might grab hold of our clothing and we should allow her to do that. And if she goes still and cold, she could be having a panic attack. There’s a number of a guy called Xavier to call in case of emergency.”
“Wonder what’s going on,” Elias said. “She sounds—”
“Crazy,” he barked.
“Brick,” Sterling warned. “Just because Linda was a bitch doesn’t mean all women are.”
He closed his eyes and nodded. “Sorry. High-maintenance.”
“Sounds to me like she has some problems,” Elias said. “Bad anxiety.”
All three of them were Dominants, and their protective instincts were strong.
“She works four days a week at the local library and that she uses a bicycle to get around,” Sterling stated.
“That’s out,” Brick stated.
“Goes to a bar quiz night every Thursday,” Sterling added.
“Also out.”
“We’re not supposed to disrupt her schedule unless necessary,” Elias reminded him.
And he was being a jerk for the sake of it. Yeah, he knew that. But he would do whatever was necessary to keep this woman safe. This job could salvage his business. Losing it wasn’t an option.
Winding down the window, he reached out to press the button on the communication system.
Elias got out of his truck and walked over to his open window. “This place is in the middle of nowhere.”
Brick nodded. He didn’t like all the trees surrounding the place. Too easy for someone to sneak close. But if there were any blind spots in JSI’s security system, he knew he could plug them.
“Maybe if you tried smiling instead of scowling, she might be inclined to let us in.” Elias raised an eyebrow, staring at Brick. “You do remember how to smile, don’t you?”
“Fuck off,” Brick snarled.
“Maybe she went out. Forgot we were coming,” Elias said.
Humph. Probably out getting her nails done or shopping or whatever else rich people did. Like making a huge list of ridiculous instructions just to guard one woman. “Don’t suppose there was a gate code on that list?”
“Nope,” Sterling said. “But her number is here. And some information about her. Juliet Jackson. Age twenty-nine. Works at the Wishingbone Library four days a week for four hours a day.”
He was kind of surprised she worked at all.
“Five foot three. Ninety-seven pounds.”
Jesus. She was tiny. Didn’t she eat?
“Allergic to shellfish. Carries an EpiPen.”
He noted that all away as he pressed the buzzer again. Where the hell was she?
“How’re we going to do this?” Elias asked. “Take shifts?”
“Jones wanted her to have one main guard,” he replied. “Apparently, there’s a guest suite in the pool house with two bedrooms. And then one of us can stay in the house.”
When you were rich, you could afford to be quirky and different. Yes, he had a slight hang-up around money. Perhaps it was because he barely had two pennies to rub together. Or maybe because he had grown up watching his mother work three jobs to get food on the table.
Shit like that made you cynical.
“Quirks we can work with,” Sterling said. “Just remember the money, man.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You can’t let her see that chip on your shoulder,” Elias warned. “It’s good money just to guard one woman.”
And he needed it.
Frustrated, he put his finger on the buzzer again. Where was this woman?
“What’s her phone number?” he asked. “I’ll call her.”
“Might be best to text her,” Sterling suggested after rattling off the number.
He didn’t care if he had to interrupt her manicure or whatever. Jones had told him that she knew they were coming. It was common courtesy to be here.
3
She had a headache. Her hand was throbbing from the burn. And she was really wishing that she hadn’t freaked out like that around Xavier.
For as long as she could remember, she’d had a crush on the sexy doctor. He saw her as a sister, though.
She didn’t blame him for not being attracted to her. She wasn’t sexy. Or sane.
That seemed like something men might like. Someone who was sane. Right?
Kiesha was always saying that normal was overrated, but Juliet wasn’t so sure. Besides, while Kiesha might be a bit crazy, she was also outgoing and fun, and she could actually talk to people.
That sort of thing helped, you know?
He’d rejected her once a long time ago when she was feeling surprisingly brave and kissed him. It still hurt all these years later. She wouldn’t survive that rejection again.
Rubbing a hand over her face, she walked into the downstairs kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing the cranberry juice she poured it into a glass. Her upstairs fridge was filled with iced coffee and water, but she had a craving for cranberry juice.
As she moved back towards the stairs, a buzzing noise frightened her.
She dropped the glass, which smashed on the ground, spilling juice everywhere. And she was standing in the middle of it, not wearing shoes.
“Crap. Crap. Crap.”
Buzz!
Shoot. Whoever was at the gate was impatient.
“Keep your pants on, buddy,” she snapped, feeling brave because she knew they couldn’t see or hear her. Or even get onto the property without her letting them in.
She didn’t want to let them in. She knew it had to be the security team that Reuben hired.
Buzz!
“Big girl panties, Juliet. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know them. Reuben sent them to protect you. They’re doing a job. That’s all. They don’t have to like you. You don’t have to like them.”
She nervously tapped her fingers against her thigh, feeling her stomach churn. She wished Xavier had stayed. Not that she blamed him for leaving. After all, she’d fallen asleep on him. He’d had to put her to bed.
It was embarrassing that he’d had to take care of her like that.
Her phone dinged with a text message. Shoot.
She checked the text message.
* * *
Unknown number: Miss Jackson, this is Brick Sampson from Sampson Security. Your brother hired us. We are at the gate and would appreciate you letting us in.
* * *
“This isn’t going to work. His texts are so formal. What if he’s like that in real life?”
She sent a text to Kiesha.
* * *
Juliet: Can you trust people who txt in a formal tone?
Kiesha: Nope. Serial killer. 4 sure.
* * *
Yep. That’s what Juliet thought too.
Switching to her email, she went through what Reuben had sent her.
Brenton Sampson. Forty-two. Ex-Marine. Owned his own security company. Reuben had included a photo. He had a muscular build. Short, dark hair and tanned skin. He was also frowning. He looked kind of grouchy and hard.
Juliet rubbed at her temples. Her headache was still pounding. Her juice was all over the floor. There were shards of glass everywhere. And she was just standing here, doing nothing.
Her phone buzzed again with another text.
* * *
Unknown number: Miss Jackson? Are you home? Are you all right?
* * *
Yeah, she was home. But whether she was all right, well . . . she guessed that depended on your definition. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. She couldn’t stand here all day.
Stepping carefully around the mess, she moved to the panel up against the door. JSI had installed the system, and Kent had patiently shown her how to use
it. She liked Kent. He was kind and he never rushed her.
She wished he or one of his guys could guard her. Then she wouldn’t have to put up with this Brenton Sampson, who was not only impatient with a heavy buzzer finger, but had a scowly face and was obviously a serial killer.
Well, perhaps that last part was still up for contention. He could just be a lover of grammar. But the first two were definitely true.
Unfortunately, it seemed the man scowling up at the camera at the gate was almost certainly Brenton Sampson. Or his evil twin brother.
Her phone vibrated in her hand as wolf howls filled the room.
Darn it.
She answered the call.
“Two calls in one day,” she said cheerfully. “Are you sure you’re not dying?”
There was silence on the other end. Drat.
“Let him in, Juliet.”
“So, he’s a tattletale too,” she muttered.
“Mini,” he sighed. She could feel the exhaustion in his voice and felt terrible. Here she was playing silly games and he was literally dealing with a threat to his life. If she could spank her own ass, she would.
She deserved a time-out at the very least. Or maybe writing some lines.
“I’m sorry, Reuben,” she told him. “I know I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”
“Excuse me?” he snapped coldly. He rarely used that tone with her. Only when she said something he really didn’t like.
Oh. Like right now.
Good idea to anger him when he was already exhausted, worried, and in overprotective mode. She usually handled him better than this. It was just a sign of how stressed she was.
“What did you just say?”
“Nothing.”
“Darn right. Because if you just said you’re more trouble than you’re worth, then I know I’m not talking to my sister. I know my sister must have been body-snatched. Because my sister would never say such a thing. Because my sister knows her worth, doesn’t she? What’s her worth?”
“I’m more important than anything and you’d give up everything you have for me.”
The words filled her with a self-confidence she sorely lacked most of the time. When other people failed or left her, Reuben hadn’t. He’d always had her back.
And you have to have his. Do this for him, so he doesn’t worry about you on top of everything else.
Also, so he didn’t kidnap her and take her to the island with him. Because he was also the most important person in her world, and if she killed him, then she’d be really upset with herself afterward.
“I’ll let him in now. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Mini. I know I’m asking for a lot. But I just need to know you’re safe so I can do what I need to do to eliminate the threat. All right?”
“Yep. I can do that.”
“I know you can. Because you’re smart and brave.”
“You’re a good liar. Makes sense given your job,” she teased him.
“Ha-ha, brat. You owe me some brownies for that.”
“I might even leave out the walnuts this time.”
Reuben hated walnuts but loved her chocolate brownies. So, when she was annoyed with him, she’d make him brownies with finely cut-up walnuts in it.
He laughed. A real laugh and she bounced on her toes, pleased with herself for relieving some of the stress in his voice.
“Listen, this guy comes with a lot of good references. He’s had some financial difficulties, which was why he was available. I get the feeling he doesn’t think much of me, so I doubt he would have taken the job unless he was desperate.”
She frowned, not liking the sound of that. How dare this jerk think badly of her brother? Sure, Reuben could be a bit of a prick at times if you pissed him off. But the rest of the time, he was a teddy bear.
Yeah, okay, even she didn’t believe the bullshit she was trying to spin.
“He looks scowly.”
“Scowly, huh?”
“Kiesha thinks he’s a serial killer.”
“Kiesha thought the new pastor at her church was a serial killer.”
“Yes, well, it turns out he was printing counterfeit money in his basement,” she told him. “So Kiesha’s instincts were right.”
“It was play money and he was printing it off his computer.”
“So he says. Kiesha says differently.”
Reuben muttered something under his breath. She knew it would be nothing flattering about Kiesha, but it didn’t matter. Reuben and Kiesha were oil and water, but they both loved her.
She hit the button to release the gate as he was muttering. Mr. Scowly gave the camera an even bigger scowl.
“He’s going to give himself wrinkles,” she muttered.
“What?” Reuben asked.
“Nothing, brother. I better go, I’ve let them in the gate.”
“There are two guys with him?”
“Yep, looks like.”
“Good. He’s going to be your main point of contact. Kent said if one of his guys finishes a job sooner than expected that he’d send someone.”
“Kent actually spoke to you?”
Reuben let out a huff of breath. “No. He’s still sulking over something that happened ages ago. He needs to learn how to let go of a grudge. I spoke to Corbin. Who relayed the information to his majesty.”
She rolled her eyes. She didn’t know what the issue was between Reuben and Kent. But then, if she tried to keep track of every issue that someone in Wishingbone had with her brother, she’d never get anything else done in her life.
“They’re here now.”
“Okay, let Xavier do the talking. Wait. Why didn’t he let them in? I sent him over to help ease you into this.”
“You did?”
“What? Didn’t he turn up? That bastard.”
“No, he did. But I, ahh, doesn’t matter. He left.”
“You what?” Reuben asked suspiciously.
“Fell asleep.” There was a knock at the front door. “Gotta go, they’re here.”
“I can’t believe he left you! I’ll kill him.”
“Did you tell him that you’d hired a security team and that they were on their way?” she asked suspiciously. Because she was surprised that Xavier would have left her if that was the case.
“Well, no.”
“Right, so you just ordered him to come over here instead of asking him or telling him any of the details.”
Buzz!
What was with this guy? Was he trying to make her headache worse?
“Maybe,” Reuben muttered. “Thought he would have stuck around for a bit longer.”
“I’ve got to go. I got this.”
She totally didn’t. But she figured it wouldn’t hurt to fake it.
“Love you, Mini.”
“Love you too, BBW.”
His sigh made her smile. Which faded as soon as she ended the call and faced the door.
Shit.
4
“Do you think she let us in just to leave us standing on her doorstep?” Elias said with amusement.
“Maybe you should let one of us do the talking,” Sterling suggested.
“Probably a good idea,” Elias agreed. “One look at you, and she’ll likely run screaming.”
He gave them both an exasperated look. “I can handle one woman. I’ve been doing this for a while.”
Elias held his hands up. “Think I’ll go start doing a recon of the area then.”
“I’ll see if I can find this pool house and unpack the stuff,” Sterling added.
Wait. So, they were fucking leaving him? Assholes. He sighed. Great.
The door opened before he could call them back. Standing in the doorway was a tiny slip of a girl. She had her thick chestnut-colored hair in two braids. Her face was pale with smudges under her eyes.
She was dressed in a black dress that covered her from her shoulders to her feet. Which he noticed were bare. And the nails were painted a pink so bright it almost hurt his ey
es to look at them.
That was surprising. And kind of cute.
She’s not cute, idiot.
It had been a long time since he’d been involved with a Little. Or even played at a club. Linda had been a sub, but not a Little. When they’d first started dating, they’d often go to the club to play. But after they were married, both of them had lost interest. Although, he’d come to learn that she’d simply found someone else to play with. His accountant.
He’d been fooled by his wife, his accountant, left with nothing.
Complete and utter failure.
But he wouldn’t let this woman-girl see that. Sure, she might rouse his Daddy instincts, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he was ready to move back into that scene.
His gut churned at the thought. Or maybe not.
Her fingers started tapping against the sides of her legs. A sign of agitation. And nervousness.
Because you’re not talking, you ass.
Then his gaze caught on the red, blistered patch of skin on the top of her hand.
“How’d you get that?” he snapped, reaching for her hand. And why hadn’t anyone taken care of it?
She snatched her hand out of his reach, stumbling back with a gasp. Her foot landed in something red on the floor. She let out a cry of pain.
Fuck, was that blood?
“Where are you bleeding?” he yelled.
Her eyes widened as she wobbled, about to fall. Acting on instinct, he grabbed her, pulling her towards him. She cried out, clasping her hands around his neck, and holding on tight. He swallowed heavily at the feel of her body against his.
Don’t react. Don’t react.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded, growing stiff. He saw the moment she realized that she was pressed against a strange man’s body. He set her down before she could start to panic. Last thing he wanted was a hysterical, pint-sized woman on his hands.
Oh yeah? Because you’re quite enjoying holding her in your hands at the moment.
Her Daddies’ Saving Grace Page 3
