by Cynthia Eden
His hold tightened on her. “At the grocery store, you saved my ass then, too.”
“It’s my job.”
A shudder ran the length of his body. He pulled her closer to him. “You stepped between me and a bullet.”
“I’m your bodyguard, that’s what I’m supposed—”
She didn’t get to finish. His mouth was on hers. Not in some easy, breezy kiss. In a dark and commanding, I-want-to-consume-you kind of kiss. The kind of kiss that broke your world and left it in jagged pieces that you would never be able to put right again.
She kissed him back the same way. With wild abandon and a stark desperation. Because he had almost died that morning. If she hadn’t made the connection in time…hell, she almost hadn’t made the connection because she’d been too caught up in him. Blind to everything but Bran and she hadn’t been able to see the danger until it was nearly too late. She was supposed to keep him safe.
Falling for him had never been an option.
So why was she clinging too tightly to him? Holding him as if her very life depended on this moment?
His hands dropped to her hips. He hoisted her up. She loved that easy strength of his. Her legs curled around his hips, and she didn’t care that they were in the sheriff’s office. Wait, she did care, in the sense that they were in a safe place, but she wasn’t about to stop kissing Bran. Not then.
Not when this was probably going to be her last chance to have him this way.
I got too close. I can’t do my job. This morning proved that. Someone else will have to be sent in, and I’ll have to pull back from him.
Tears stung her eyes.
Bran tore his mouth from hers. Kissed a scorching path down her throat. Her head tipped back as she allowed him better access. They shouldn’t be doing this.
“Every bit of it was a lie…but I still go fucking crazy thinking of anything happening to you.” Pain—no, torment—was in that rough, dark voice of his as he lightly bit down on the curve of her shoulder. A tremor of pure lust racked over her. “Nothing bad can happen to you.”
Something bad had already happened to her. He’d happened. The bad boy of rock. He’d slipped past her guard and gotten too close, and now she didn’t know what in the hell she was supposed to do.
“I want to take you right here.” His voice wasn’t just rough. It had gone straight guttural. “Stop me.”
Yes, yes, they had to stop. The hot visual of having sex on the sheriff’s desk was not going to happen. So even though she wanted him, wanted him so badly her whole body ached, she flattened her hands on his chest. “Stop.”
His muscles turned to stone.
Julia forced herself to say, “Put me down.”
Slowly, he lowered her until her sneakers pressed to the scratched floor. She pulled in a deep breath. Then a few more breaths because she really needed them. When her knees weren’t going to buckle, she pushed away from him. “I have to go check in with my boss. We’re going to need extra manpower for your case.” I need someone to replace me. Someone who won’t make mistakes that could cost you your life. “I’ll go into the hallway to call him. I’ll be right back.”
“You can call him from right here.” He motioned to the phone on the desk. His face was a hard, rough mask that showed his need hadn’t dissipated any. Fair enough, neither had hers.
She didn’t look at the desk or the phone. Calling while Bran was right there wasn’t an option because he’d hear her asking for a replacement. Rick. Rick would be the best one to take over. Rick would keep him safe. She could trust Rick.
Bran’s head tilted as he sensed her hesitation. “What other secrets are you keeping from me?”
She wasn’t about to touch that one. She could still taste him. Still feel him. Her shoulder seemed to give a sensual throb where his mouth had pressed against her.
“Julia?”
“What secrets are you keeping from me?” If she was going to leave, she might as well go all in. Burn all those bridges. But…
I just want to kiss him again. Want to hold him. Truth be told, she never wanted to let go.
Bran’s gaze immediately became shuttered. “What do you mean?”
“Fiona Hawke, Bran. Who is she? What does she mean to you?”
He stepped back and appeared genuinely surprised by the name she’d tossed at him. “Fiona is dead.”
That she knew. “Who was she to you?”
Bran shook his head. “She…she wasn’t. I mean, she was a friend. Not a lover, if that’s what you’re asking. Fiona was a girl I knew back in Louisiana. We hung out a little, but it was nothing serious. God, that was a million years ago.”
Some people had long memories. “Your stalker sent me an email about her.”
Again, he shook his head. “That’s not possible. That doesn’t make sense.”
“She matters to him. He said that you destroyed her, Bran.”
“No, I didn’t. I left New Orleans before she died. I wasn’t involved with her romantically. Look, I was a seventeen-year-old dumbass back then, but I didn’t do anything to Fiona. I didn’t hurt her in any way.” A muscle jerked along his jaw. “She wanted out of that parish. So did I. We both wanted to be bigger and to be more than the dirt-poor kids that we were. All of us in that group—we wanted out. I took my guitar and hopped a bus, and I didn’t look back because I knew if I stopped, I’d lose my nerve.”
“And Fiona?”
“She was killed while I was in Nashville. I wasn’t anywhere near her, I swear. Someone told me she’d been mugged. That she was out late at night and got killed and was dumped behind a club in New Orleans. I hated it—I still hate it because Fiona was a good person. She had a laugh that could fill a room.” Bran’s eyes glittered. “I had nothing to do with her death. I swear it.”
“Your stalker mentioned her for a reason.” He blames you for her death. But…why?
“I don’t destroy everyone that I touch,” Bran fired, but then he frowned. He looked down at his hands. Stared at them as if he’d never seen them before. “Or maybe I do,” he muttered.
“Bran?”
“Go call your boss. Tell him whatever the hell it is you don’t want me overhearing.” His smile was grim when he glanced up again. “I’ll stay right here and wait on you. You don’t even need to handcuff me in place this time.”
He was hurting. She could feel his pain. Instead of heading out the door, Julia stood rooted to the spot. “You don’t destroy everything that you touch.”
“No?” One brow rose. “How are you feeling right now?”
Shaken. Off-balance. Scared. But she didn’t say those things and because she hesitated, sadness flashed on his face.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Bran muttered.
***
“Rick has to take over the case,” Julia said as she hunched her shoulders and talked into the phone on the deputy’s desk. She didn’t even know where her phone was. The thing was probably a melted piece of junk back at the cabin. She’d have to get a replacement ASAP.
“Rick?” Eric Wilde’s voice sharpened. “Why? What’s happened?”
What hadn’t happened? Eric already knew about the fire—at both cabins. But he didn’t know… “I’m too close on this one.” Eric would understand what she meant. Hell, hadn’t he fallen for his own wife when he’d been in close confines with her? When he’d gone in to keep her safe from a threat? But when you fell for the one you were supposed to protect, your objectivity went straight to hell. “I can’t do this job.”
Silence.
“Eric?” Julia prompted.
“You never get too close to your clients.” There was no missing his surprise.
“Yes, well, I screwed up on this one.” I’m human, all right? She cast a quick, nervous look over her shoulder. The door to Gideon’s office was still closed. “I almost didn’t get Bran out of his cabin in time. I was too caught up in—” Him. “Look, I think he wants to get rid of me, anyway. The guy isn’t thrilled that I’v
e been lying to him.” Understatement of the century. “Rick won’t have the same problem with him. Get me a safe location for Bran to crash, and then Rick can take over. I’ll stay close by.” No way was she just going to leave Bran, but someone with more objectivity had to be leading the case. Bran needed a bodyguard who wouldn’t be distracted. “I’ll be on the secondary team.”
“Bran’s going to agree to this? You’re sure?”
Bran didn’t exactly seem to love Rick, so she figured he’d have some objections. However… “He’s not the one who hired us, remember?” Hathway was paying the bills.
Eric grunted. “I’ll call Hathway. I tried to get the guy earlier, but he’s gone silent on me.” Frustration boiled in Eric’s words. “Wanted to talk to him about Fiona Hawke. Our agents have been digging, and it turns out she was connected to him, too.”
“What do you mean?” That was news to her.
“After Bran left Louisiana, she followed him to Nashville. Went to see Hathway. Apparently, she bragged to a cousin about having an appointment to meet with Bran’s manager. Said that Bran was her in with the guy.”
But…Bran had said—
“This is piecemeal info, so I need more. Looks like she didn’t stay in Nashville long before she headed home. Her body was found a few days later. I don’t even know if she saw Bran while she was in Nashville, but I’m sure thinking Hathway can tell me more.”
Her temples throbbed. “Bran said he never slept with her. That they ran in the same group, but he didn’t have any contact with her after he left Louisiana.”
“Huh.”
She didn’t like his huh very much. There was a world of meaning in that one sound.
“You believe him?” Eric asked quietly.
“I don’t have any reason not to.” He hadn’t been the one lying. That had been her.
She waited for another huh. It didn’t come. Instead, Eric said, “He trusts you, Julia. You’ve saved him. You’ve built a bond with you.”
“Correction. He trusted me. Past tense. That was before he found out that I’ve been lying my ass off to him. I don’t know how he feels about me now.” She knew he still wanted her. She’d felt the evidence of his desire surging against her. She’d felt it in his kiss. A kiss that had swept her away in a flashfire of need.
“He won’t confide in Rick the way he’ll confide in you.”
Her gut clenched. She did not like the way this conversation was going. “I need a replacement. I told you, I’m not objective. You of all people know what it’s like when objectivity goes out the window. I almost didn’t see the threat coming in time. I almost let Bran die.” Her voice turned ragged. Another lover dead with her left standing? No.
A tense moment passed. “I’ll talk to Rick.”
“Good. You do that.” Her breath huffed out as she blinked away tears. She was running on fumes and the really bad, incredibly stale-tasting coffee that she’d snuck from the deputy’s desk. “And please tell me there is a safe house near here that we can use. I’m holed up in the sheriff’s station and feeling too exposed.”
“I’ve got a place ready for you right now. Wilde is taking over the bed and breakfast at the end of Redwood Lane. It’s got enough rooms for our agents to settle in while we try to figure out the next move.”
The next move. Check. “Bran was using himself as bait. Whatever happens next, that crap has to end. His protection needs to be visible and constant. This stalker isn’t going to stop, not unless we stop him.”
Eric gave a delicate cough. “We? I thought you’d just stepped down.”
“You know what I mean.” And she’d just said that she was moving to the secondary protection detail. Not that she was deserting Bran.
“I’m not sure you know what you mean. It’s been a rough night and morning for you, and you need to crash. Get Bran to the bed and breakfast. I’ve been told there are two adjoining rooms on the second floor. You can stay close to him until Rick takes over.”
Good plan.
“And Julia?”
She waited.
“You did one hell of a job. Cole is alive because of you. I’ve already been briefed on how you got him out of the fire.” A rough laugh. “Cole called me from his hospital bed because he wanted me to know what you’d done to save him.”
Her hold tightened on the phone. “How is he?”
“Alive. That’s what matters.” A beat of time passed. “Cole told me that he thought he remembered something. Right before he blacked out, Cole said he could’ve sworn that he heard laughter.”
She mulled that over as fear slithered through her. “Maybe the bastard who pushed him down the stairs was laughing at Cole’s pain. The guy could get off on stuff like that.”
“Maybe so…only, according to Cole, it wasn’t a guy. The laughter he heard belonged to a woman.”
Chapter Fifteen
“The building is secure. Two agents are stationed on the first floor—one near the rear door and one near the main entrance. No one will be getting inside, only the people who are supposed to be here. You can rest for a while.” Julia stood beside the door that connected the two rooms on the second floor at the old bed and breakfast. As Bran watched, her hands twisted in front of her. A nervous gesture. She didn’t seem to make a lot of those. His gaze sharpened on her as Julia added, “I’ll be right next door if you need anything. All you have to do is call out.”
He didn’t move from his position near the bed. Looked like a queen size, with a gleaming, brass headboard. They’d both fit, especially if she was on top of him.
But Julia was retreating. Tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear as she edged back. “Both suites have bathrooms. I’m going to shower, and I’m sure you want to get cleaned up, too.”
Because he was covered in dirt and ash and who the hell knew what else? Yeah, he wouldn’t mind getting clean.
She turned away.
“Julia.”
Her body tensed. “Look, Bran, I’m sorry I lied to you. I get that you’ve had plenty of people lie to you before.”
“I thought you were different.”
Her hand lifted and curled around the doorframe. “I guess you were wrong about me.” She didn’t look back as she left him. The door closed softly behind her.
I don’t think I was.
He’d never met anyone like her. The woman had so many layers, so many secrets. Hell, yes, she was different. And her betrayal had cut him to the quick because…
I was falling for her. Now he didn’t know if the woman who’d slipped into his heart—was she even real? What parts had been the real Julia? What parts had been the persona she’d faked for him?
He took a step toward the connecting door, but his phone rang. A new phone, but his same old number. Julia and her magical crew of agents had gotten it delivered to the bed and breakfast for him, along with a new phone for her, too. He looked down at his screen and saw his manager’s number.
Growling, he answered the call and shoved the phone at his ear. “Hathway, you rotten bastard…”
“I’m sorry!” Hathway’s frantic response. “But you were in trouble! I had to do something.” His breath heaved in and out. “Look, are you okay? I was out all night and for most of the day, and I just talked to Eric Wilde a few minutes ago. He told me what happened, and Jesus, aren’t you glad the woman was there? Shouldn’t you be thanking me right now?”
Bran’s gaze locked on the door that separated them. Thank you? Fuck you.
“Wilde Securities is the best. The best. You weren’t taking this mess seriously enough, so I had to take steps.”
“I didn’t want anyone else involved! Shit, that other agent with Julia—Cole Vincent—he could’ve died.”
“You could’ve died! You’re the one I’m worried about! These people are professionals. They understand the risk. They are far more equipped to deal with this nutcase than you are. I can’t afford to lose you.”
Because Bran was the gravy train. Like Hathway hadn’
t told him that a time or twenty.
“I knew Julia Slate would be perfect for you the minute I saw her. She seems all innocent and sexy. One look into those big, dark eyes of hers, and I knew you’d want to fuck her. No way would you turn her away when she landed on your doorstep. No way—”
“Hathway.”
“Yeah?”
He was about to crush the phone. “The next time I see you, I am going to punch you in the face, and you are going to deserve the punch. So just take it and shut the hell up.”
“What? Why?” Hathway’s voice rose sharply.
Why? “Because you don’t talk that way about her again, understand?” A snarl.
But Hathway laughed. “See? I knew it. You have always gone for that type. You look at someone and want to protect, so I knew she’d get close to you easily. Told her to work that angle.”
Breathe. Just breathe. “What do you mean, that’s my type?”
Hathway coughed. “Uh, you know…those doe-eyed ones.”
No, he didn’t know. But he suspected Hathway was holding back on him.
“We need to get you out of that Podunk town,” Hathway declared. “I’ll get the private jet to come and get you. We’ll get you back to your home base. Get the Wilde protection team in strong around you, and we’ll handle this bastard.”
He wasn’t leaving Hideaway. “The stalker is here.”
“Yes, yes, I know. All the more reason you shouldn’t be there. I’ll have the jet in the air by tomorrow morning. You’ll be back in Beverly Hills before you know it. Going into the woods was a mistake. I told you that over and over again. You are too vulnerable up there. You should’ve listened to me.”
“Fuck off, Hathway.”
“Bran—”
He hung up the phone. Dropped it on the bed. He headed for the door. Reached for the handle. It turned easily beneath his hand. When he walked into the next suite, he saw the empty bed. The clothes that had been tossed onto the floor. But no Julia.
His head turned. He could hear the rush of the shower. His feet scraped over the floor as he marched for the bathroom door. His hand lifted. Hesitated over that doorknob.
You look at someone and want to protect, so I knew she’d get close to you easily. Told her to work that angle.