Twisted Intentions: Westbrook Security Bodyguard Book 1

by Owenby, J. A.

  I walked to the entrance of the penthouse, punched in the code, then stepped back while Redd and ZW entered first. A few minutes later, they returned for Jeffrey and me.

  “She’s a fucking beaut,” Redd said. “Mr. Westbrook had exceptional taste.”

  My head throbbed with the mention of his name in the past tense as I walked inside and scanned the living and dining room. He should be here, sitting on the couch next to the fireplace waiting for us with a bourbon neat in his hand.

  ZW released a low whistle as he examined the living room. “You’re seriously stepping up from the hood.”

  “No kidding. I’m not the broke-ass little white boy anymore,” I replied.

  “I’ll put your bags in the bedrooms, sir.” Jeffrey grabbed the luggage and disappeared momentarily.

  “Thanks.” I was definitely distracted and overwhelmed with my new living space, even if it was only temporary.

  “Look at this kitchen!” If a guy could be giddy, Redd was the perfect image of it. He moonwalked across the floor, oohing and awing over the appliances. “So cool!” His eyes widened as he reached the copper gourmet pots and pans that were suspended from a rack over the stove.

  “Feel free to enjoy it while we’re here,” I said.

  ZW laughed as Redd made a mad dash to the cabinets and opened them two at a time. Then, he ran his fingers over the white and black marble countertops and opened the fridge, eyeing the available inventory.

  “If you’ll make a list, I can run to the grocery store for you, sir,” Jeffrey said from behind me.

  “Redd, you heard him. You’ll be the one cooking, so why don’t you and Jeffrey work it out.”

  I wandered into the living room and sighed heavily. The late afternoon sun warmed the space. Floor-to-ceiling windows were tastefully decorated with automatic blinds, even though we were high enough that no one from the surrounding buildings could see in. This place was furnished differently than Dad’s house in Spokane. I ran my hand across the expensive, velvety material of the modern taupe sectional couch.

  “I’m afraid to touch anything,” ZW mumbled while he meandered into the adjoining dining room.

  “Pristine,” I replied. “It’s so …”

  “Bossman,” Redd said, addressing me from behind. “The bar is fully stocked, but is there anything specific you want before Jeffrey leaves?”

  “Where is it?” I asked.

  ZW and I followed Redd to a room tucked away on the far side of the kitchen.

  “There’s a library?” My brow quirked in surprise. Books of every height, color, and size nestled into wall-to-wall shelves. A recliner sat in the middle of the room with a sleek, contemporary rectangular table next to it. I could easily imagine Dad wearing his glasses and reading the latest by Lee Child. A slow, burning ache seeped through my chest while I scanned the room. A beautiful wooden bar sat near the window that once again spanned from the floor to the ceiling.

  “Right? But check out the scenery.” Redd motioned me over.

  The magnitude and beauty of Mount Hood stole my breath. It’d been years since I’d seen her, and never this close. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans and stared in awe. There was no doubt in my mind why my dad loved it here. The privacy alone was worth it, but gazing down at the world below was somehow calming. Almost nothing could touch you up here. Almost.

  Like the rest of the house, the library was decorated in a modern style. While the living room furniture was taupe, this set was dark green. Another chair and a love seat faced the window and offered the best views in the penthouse so far. But I’d not seen the master suite yet.

  “Sir?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “Would you like me to show you to your room?”

  “No, it’s fine. Thank you. Feel free to go to the store or anything else you need to do. I’d like a few minutes to collect myself.”

  Everyone in the room fell silent as I gazed out the window, once again lost in my thoughts and memories. When I heard footsteps retreating from the room my attention fell on the bar.

  I rifled through Dad’s alcohol selection until I located the scotch. This time I didn’t even bother with a glass. I removed the lid and took a healthy drink from the bottle. How the hell was I supposed to deal with the loss of Dad and manage the company at the same time? I felt gutted and hollow inside, simply a spectator on the sidelines of my life.

  Taking another drink, I made my way to the recliner and sank down exhausted. I tipped the bottle of scotch up again. Fuck. This. Fuck Dad for leaving me. And Fuck Portland. Refusing to think about anything else, I watched the sunset fill the sky with an orange and pink glow. Tipping the bottle up, I drank until I passed out in the chair, drowning all of my despair along with it.

  * * *

  A foul, bitter taste in my mouth woke me the next morning. I rolled over in bed, then bolted upright. My eyes narrowed as I scanned my surroundings. Nothing seemed familiar. At. All.

  Tossing the covers back, I realized I was still in my polo shirt and jeans from the day before. I sat on the edge of the bed, my bare feet landing on the plush tan carpet. Dad. I was in his penthouse. His bed. I rubbed my head while memories of yesterday flooded my mind. My stomach twisted in knots, and I massaged my temples, willing the pounding in my head to dissipate. I stared at my iPhone. It was nearly eleven in the morning. Sunlight peeked around the lowered blinds. I groaned, the mere thought of how bright it was outside caused a sharp, stabbing pain in my eyeballs. Drinking myself into oblivion never solved anything, but I’d apparently forgotten that fact.

  A silver tray sat on the dark oak nightstand and offered hangover assistance. I grabbed the glass of water and popped the two Advil with it.

  Dammit. I’d slept in my dad’s bed. Scrubbing my face with my hands, I willed the tears and pain away. Never again would I hear his voice on the other phone line. Never again would I hug him. Never. The thoughts rang through my mind, carving out another piece of my heart with it. There was only so much loss one person could take before they snapped, and with the death of my dad … I was on the edge.

  I stood slowly, willing myself to keep my shit together as I walked toward what I suspected was the bathroom. I needed to take a piss, and a hot shower would help ease the pounding in my head.

  Although I’d had clients worth a ton of money, this was different. The money, penthouse, and plane … They were now mine. Wining and dining with the elite had never been my thing. Put me in the middle of the action. Let me get my hands dirty. I was a fighter.

  The black and white marble floors chilled my bare feet as I stepped into the bathroom. I discarded my clothes on the floor, my attention traveling around my surroundings. Dad’s electric razor and collection of high-priced cologne spanned across one side of the marble countertop. The entire room was marble, including the walls. I shook my head, wondering how much this penthouse had cost and what could I sell it for. There was no use in keeping it. I wouldn’t be staying in Portland.

  Before turning on the water, I played with the settings of the eight shower heads. Dad was a couple of inches shorter than me, so I adjusted them for my height, then selected a steam option and turned on the water. Amazing. It was like a tropical downpour. I relaxed under the hot spray and moaned. Jesus. My entire body felt like it’d been run over by a fucking eighteen-wheeler. Not only had I drank too much, but my muscles were also tight as hell. Tension. Stress. Death. Mourning. I leaned my forehead against the wall. Gone. In a blink of an eye, Dad was gone. One more tattoo to add to my body. One more loss.

  My fingers trailed over my pec, lightly tracing the delicate angel. The artist had done an amazing job on the feathers that were almost lifelike. The curve of her face, the slight tilt of her chin … Impeccable. Every other year, I went back to the shop in Spokane and had touchups. I wasn’t interested in the ink fading. It was my first. It was for my mom.

  An invisible hand wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed. I’d been in the Marine
s, serving our country, when Mom had been diagnosed with cancer. But she didn’t want to tell me. According to her brother, she was concerned it would distract me from my mission. Damn right it would have. I’d have come home before she could have even blinked. I would have stayed by her side, holding her hand during chemo and making sure she ate. Nothing could have kept me away from the one person who had loved me unconditionally no matter how much crap I’d gotten into.

  A few weeks after her diagnosis, she was gone. Ripped from my world without even a goodbye. I’d flown home to her casket. After everyone had left her funeral, I stayed at the burial site. My knees sank into the wet, soft ground next to her fresh grave, and I broke the fuck down.

  I gritted my teeth together, overwhelmed with the agony of losing her and now my father.

  “Suck it up, asshole,” I muttered under my breath while I washed my hair and body.

  Inhaling the steam, I began to clear my mind—my go-to when things became overwhelming. The voice of my former martial arts teacher, Da Shifu, filled my thoughts. “Exhale the negative, inhale the peace. Focus. Calm. Steady. Exhale. Inhale.” My chest heaved with each deep breath, and I felt the tiles beneath my feet. I had to remain grounded, present. Dad knew I could run his company. He believed in me. It was time that I manned up and became the Da Shifu, the teacher of teachers. I’d train Redd and ZW to run the company as well.

  Shutting off the water, I left the shower and grabbed a towel. I wiped the steam from the mirror and frowned. The hot water had helped, but there were now dark, half-moon circles beneath my eyes. Two-day-old stubble lined my jaw, but I didn’t care. Some guys could handle it. Not me. It itched like hell, but I didn’t have the energy to shave. Plus, I didn’t need to for a few more days. At least not until the funeral. I brushed my hand over my short hair, flinging water in every direction. Regardless of whether I wanted to or not, it was time to return to the real world. I had a business to take care of.

  Ten minutes later, I was dressed in well-worn jeans and a black T-shirt. There was no reason not to be comfortable. I'd return to wearing the Westbrook Security, company-required suit and tie soon enough.

  I left the bedroom, my bare feet padding down the hall while I noted the photos that lined Dad’s wall. I stopped, my fingers trailing over one with him and Gary Winston holding a buck’s horns. Their grins were infectious. Dad had loved hunting, but I’d never gotten into it. My heart skipped a beat. If I had a second chance, I’d hunt with him every time he offered. In a daze, I wandered down the hall until I found my way into the living room.

  “Sir, did you find the Advil and water on your nightstand?” Jeffrey asked from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, thank you. I appreciate it. Where are the guys?”

  “They’re eating brunch.” Jeffrey nodded toward the dining room just as the doorbell rang. “I’ll get that, sir.”

  I held up my hand to stop him. “Stay right here.” I wasn’t expecting anyone, and the only person from the company who knew we were here was my dad’s personal assistant from the office. Not a good sign. I frowned as I reached for the door.

  ZW flew out of the dining room and tried to intercept me. “I’ve got it.”

  But it was too late. I’d already opened the door.

  Chapter 4

  “How in the hell did you get up here?” I didn’t even try disguising my shock.

  It had been nine years since I’d laid eyes on Sutton Forrester, and within the first twenty-four hours of returning to the city that had nearly destroyed me, here she was. My breath hitched while my attention traveled over her. Stunning. She was absolutely heart-stopping in her navy-blue dress that hugged her body. Her long blonde hair flowed down her back, and her breasts seemed more pronounced than when I’d last seen her. My gaze moved down her well-sculpted legs, and I immediately recalled them wrapped around my neck while I’d had my face buried in … Stop.

  “Hi, Pierce.” Her chin lifted with determination. Sutton’s expression was devoid of any emotion as she stood in front of me.

  A nasty concoction of anger and astonishment coursed through me. I hated surprises. In my experience, they were rarely good, and I’d classify Sutton showing up out of nowhere an unwanted bombshell.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, my forehead creasing in confusion. “More importantly, how did you get up here?”

  “I see your manners haven’t improved since you’ve been gone,” Sutton snapped. She shifted around me and inside the penthouse and hurried toward ZW.

  “Sutton.” ZW grinned, opening his arms to her.

  “Hey.” She returned his embrace. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on here?” My patience was evaporating.

  “I called downstairs and asked them to escort her up.” ZW eyed me, willing me to challenge his decision. He placed a brotherly kiss on her forehead and took Sutton’s hand. It was obvious they’d already formed an alliance.

  ZW knew this wasn’t okay with me. Why in the world would he bring her up here? He had damned well better have a good reason.

  Folding my arms across my chest, I glared at them. “What are you doing here?” I asked again.

  “I’m here on business,” she said. “I met with your dad the night he passed away.”

  She had my full attention now.

  “You knew about this and didn’t tell me?” My jaw clenched, and I turned to ZW. I was confused as to why my best friend would bring the one person in the world I didn’t want to see into my house.

  “You weren’t awake when she called this morning,” ZW explained.

  “Pierce, just hear me out—please.” Sutton peered up at me through her long dark lashes, and I caved.

  “Fine, have a seat in the living room.” Regardless of how irritated I was about it, she was here now, and I couldn’t turn away ZW’s guest. I suspected her knocking on my door was as difficult for her as it was for me.

  Sutton followed ZW while I hung back, enjoying the scenery of her well-shaped ass and legs in her black heels. We hadn’t ended well, but I’d be blind not to notice how gorgeous she was. She had never been shy, but the quiet confidence and strength that surrounded her was unmistakable. She’d grown from a rebellious teen to a sophisticated woman who knew her place in the world. Or at least it seemed that way.

  A steady thrum pounded in my head as I attempted to wrap my brain around the situation. Sutton was here. In my house. After nine years.

  Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I joined them in the living room and sat down.

  “I’m sorry about your dad, Pierce.” Sutton sat on the edge of the couch and wrung her hands together.

  She was nervous. I remembered the tell-tale signs. Pacing, biting her lower lip, and wringing her hands.

  “Yeah, it was very … unexpected.” Although Sutton was being polite, I needed to get down to why she was here. The faster we did, the sooner she could leave. “Redd,” I called. “I think you might want to join us.”

  Redd’s face lit up as he rounded the corner and his attention landed on her.

  “Sutton!” He approached her, arms extended for a hug. “Wow, you look amazing. It’s so good to see you.” His eyes quickly bounced to me when I stood from the couch, indicating for him to wrap it up. He grimaced. Redd and ZW knew what her presence could do to me.

  “You too, Vaughn.” She embraced him quickly.

  Redd fell silent as we all took our seats.

  “You saw my father?” I asked, urging her to explain why she was here. I leaned forward in my chair, waiting for her to speak.

  “Yes. I’m sure you know our fathers are … were very close friends,” she started.

  “I know.”

  “I needed to talk to someone I trusted, and it seems as though those people are few and far between these days.” Sutton's shoulders shook with her deep sigh, and she folded her hands tightly in her lap. A tangled ball of anger and regret threatened to erupt inside me, but I stomped them down
before I could lose my shit. The good and bad times with Sutton were teasing my thoughts, inviting me down a memory lane that could be dangerous.

  “Sutton, I’m trying not to be a total dick here, but I’ve got a lot on my plate. I’m not sure why you’re here, but can you get to the point?” I asked.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m your next assignment, Pierce. I need your help.”

  Chapter 5

  I would have preferred to have been kicked in the nuts rather than to hear those words escape her beautiful lips. It hadn’t even been forty-eight hours since Dad died before trouble knocked on my door. I’d had every intention of avoiding Sutton while I was here, too. But apparently life had other ideas, and now she sat on my couch, staring at me with those electric blue eyes that pierced me to my very core.

  “Did you hear me? I’m your next assignment.” Her voice faltered, her eyes pleading with me.

  A shiver traveled down my back. It was obvious something was wrong, but before I could ask more, my mouth opened and spoke without my permission.

  “No.” I stood quickly. “But I’ll find someone else for you.” Spending hours and days with her wasn’t an option. We shared too much history together, and it would only leave another painful imprint on both our hearts. I wasn’t willing to open the door to my past again, either. In a way, I already was by simply being in Portland, but that was as far as I wanted to go.

  She folded her arms over her chest in determination. Her naturally wavy light blonde hair caught the sunlight as she shook her head, her eyes begging me once again.

  “You don’t understand. It’s Claire. She’s in trouble. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t serious.”

  Sutton Forrester shouldn’t fear anyone or anything. She was a badass in her own right. We’d trained in Aikido in high school, and she was the only person in class who could almost kick my ass. She was fast and powerful.

  “What about Claire?” I prompted.

  “She’s missing.”