Guarding Aisha

by Zoë Normandie

  Looking back up at her big dark eyes, he slowly opened the door for her. “Get in, please,” he grumbled.

  She slowly peeled herself away from the wall and tiptoed over to the passenger door of his car. As she brushed past him, he caught hints of vanilla and blackberry. A jolt of fire hit his abdomen, and his eyes narrowed on her. He bet she was just as delicious as she smelled.

  Seated inside, Jake shut the door with more muscle than necessary. Her body jolted with the thud. Why was he such a brute?

  He settled into the driver’s seat and placed his gun in the door, avoiding her gaze entirely but feeling the burn of it on his neck. He focused on the gun. Tactical planning. His job. If necessary, he was as good a shot with his left hand. Another useful skill.

  She tensed up beside him. Uncomfortable with guns? he wondered. Or uncomfortable around him? Hopefully the latter. It would make it easier if she stayed away. He didn’t need any distractions. He needed to drive her wherever she needed to be, and then walk away. No heroics. No fancy shit. Just in and out. With his head down.

  Key in the ignition, the old Shelby Mustang GT500’s engine roared like a bonfire doused in gasoline.

  It turned him the fuck on.

  It disturbed Jake how giddy he was getting from the atmosphere of danger. It had been a while since he’d been behind the wheel in a good car chase, and the thought of it was getting him hard. He felt like a starving wolf finally presented with some fresh, bloody meat. He licked his lips and felt his arms flex.

  “Ready for this?” he asked, purposely not looking at her, fearing any added arousal from the princess would be detrimental to his goals.

  He heard her swallow and then, very pertly in perfect English, she said, “I am.”

  The sweet silk of her feminine voice made his mouth water.

  “Good,” he bit out.

  He slammed the car into first gear, punching out his ire. He wouldn’t normally treat his first love like that, but he wanted to fuck his passenger, and that realization was aggravating.

  Was it his fault that he was an asshole? He’d had his game face on for thirteen years— back-to-back-to-back tours in various death traps and hellholes. The war on terror had literally become the never-ending story. The OPTEMPO was insane. He wasn’t complaining—he was damn grateful for the opportunity to serve, the opportunity to make a difference. It was just that in the post-mortem, he realized how he’d let it wreak havoc on his life.

  The past twelve months post SEALs had been an exercise in walking back that tactical preparedness. An exercise in relaxing. An exercise in becoming a civilian. An exercise in letting go.

  An exercise in goddamn futility.

  As he watched Charles mount up in his company’s Audi S3 and move forward, he looked over at the princess. She caught his gaze momentarily. Her lips, luscious and round, trembled a touch, just a touch, before she steeled herself again.

  He snapped his gaze away. There was no room for emotion. Just execution. That was all he was capable of. He needed her to realize it wasn’t personal. Maybe she would eventually hate him less.

  “Put this on,” he ordered her, placing a black baseball hat and large sunglasses in her lap. He reached into the back seat and pulled an army-green jacket into the front. “And this.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the contents in her lap.

  “Keep it over your chest and, if I tell you to, pull it over your head.” He was commanding her like she was one of his men.

  The princess frowned. “Is this really necessary?”

  Jake gripped the steering wheel tighter. Obstinate woman. “Yes.” Just follow my orders, he thought.

  “Why?” she asked, lifting her head and cocking it to the side.

  “Because I said so!” he retorted, shocked at the pushback from her.

  There was a brief pause, and he heard her exhale in submission.

  Good.

  Someone had once accused him of being controlling. Was he? It had served him well in operations. Turns out, SOF was his personality, and tactical zealot was his lifestyle brand.

  “Just do it,” he added as he adjusted the car controls for catharsis. He caught her gaze. “Understood?”

  She nodded and studied the jacket, keeping her eyes averted. But Jake didn’t miss her skepticism.

  He shifted in his seat. He didn’t want to be a jerk, but she needed to follow his orders if they were going to survive. He rubbed his hands across the leather grip on the steering wheel before donning a pair of driving gloves. He wanted all the grip he could get. He wanted to be in full control of what was going to come next.

  It took everything he had not to allow himself the vanity of feeling particularly badass with his leather driving gloves, roaring engine, and beautiful VIP princess escaping the repression of her father.

  Oh god, it was so good.

  A sick grin crossed his lips as his eyes scanned the fleet bay. Like an addict that had been sober for too long but not really long enough, a familiar excitement rose in his throat, crowding out the screams of warning that shot through his mind.

  2

  Aisha was beside herself.

  She knew defecting, claiming political asylum, and trading intelligence for a green card would be dangerous, but she didn’t expect it to be increasingly so once she made it past the embassy doors. That was supposed to be her safe haven.

  Or so Leo had assured her when he’d dropped her off and told her that he’d find her on the other side.

  That she was doing the right thing.

  Perhaps she was naïve. But when exactly could she start feeling safe?

  She held tightly onto her seat belt as the car pulled out of the garage toward the exit gate. She tried not to look at her driver. She took no comfort in his behavior.

  “Relax,” the hulking mass of masculinity muttered at her, seeming to sense her stress.

  She raised an eyebrow and contemplated a response. She had no idea how to talk to this man. He was so unlike Leo, her longtime friend. This man just barked orders at her left and right. It made her ill at ease.

  Nightmares of her father controlling her every movement, her every thought, flushed to the front of her mind.

  “Got it?” he prompted again. His eyes found their way to hers briefly, and she felt shivers up her spine. Sooty lashes framed the intelligent color underneath. His eyes bore almost a camouflage mosaic.

  She finally found her voice. “This isn’t the most relaxing experience.” She tried to take a polite tone, and fiddled with the jacket he’d piled into her lap.

  “I get it. But you need to chill.” It appeared to take every ounce of his being to tone down his frustration.

  “Why?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

  He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “Why? You ask that a lot.”

  Aisha felt embarrassed that she’d asked. She was inquisitive, that much was true. She thought she’d be free to open her mouth in this country, so unlike her own.

  He rubbed his hand to his chin and seemed to search for a nicer voice. “It’s safer—for all of us—if you chill the fuck out.”

  She bit her lip and watched him tighten his leathery grip on the steering wheel. His forearms flexed as he turned the wheel. His corded muscle went up and up, all the way to his biceps and shoulders, which were well-defined under his long, dark-green shirt.

  She felt the engine revving, and the care exploded up the parking ramp toward the exit gate of the embassy.

  It was fast. Powerful. She felt it.

  Anxiety climbed in her throat. There she was, finally leaving the embassy and emerging back into the public. Back into danger.

  All she had to do was stomach the ride to the safe house, wherever that was. When she’d struck the deal, Kate had never shared with her the details of what would happen next. Aisha assumed there was a good reason for all the secrecy. After all, Kate and Aisha trusted each other, but they were still two women from different countries with different ambitions and purpose
s. That had to be respected and understood.

  The fear growing inside her was beginning to feel insurmountable. Aisha tried to turn her thoughts away, but it was difficult to steel her emotions as she usually did.

  Jake’s eyes flitted to her, and he shifted in the driver’s seat.

  Her driver seemed to read her discomfort like a book. She had to toughen up. She was no longer a princess to be waited on hand and foot. She was a defector, a runaway, and as of today, she had to be one-hundred-percent self-reliant.

  She had to be strong.

  The car’s engine hummed with a throaty growl as they lined up in front of the parking exit gate and idled in front of the Frenchman’s dark-blue Audi.

  In Yoman, her brother had a fleet of those Audis, his favorite. He’d choose one to match his outfit for the day. The son of the sheikh of Yoman, heir apparent to the emirate always traveled in fashion.

  “Nervous?” Jake asked. He didn’t look at her but continued to scan the perimeter as their vehicle idled behind the last steel fence standing between the secure area of the embassy and beyond. She could see traffic whipping back and forth on the street in front of them.

  “No,” she lied. “I’m fine.” She made a point to stare straight ahead, betraying no emotion. But her stomach burned with anxiety, and the only reason tears hadn’t spilled out was because her cortisol was too high.

  He let out a low chuckle. The shift in his demeanor was intriguing. He’d gone from despondent to engaged and locked on as soon as he had the power of the vehicle beneath his clutch.

  “You aren’t a good liar, you know that?” he said. Aisha felt her eyebrows snap together. “Don’t worry. I’m a professional. You’re in good hands,” he gruffly assured her.

  “I should hope so,” she whispered to herself as the gate lifted.

  He snorted loudly.

  Had she heard correctly that he was actually a SEAL? Special forces? When she studied in France, she had heard of those men. Who hadn’t? She just never thought she’d meet one. They seemed like a rare breed.

  She snuck a glance over at her driver. Yup, he was special, all right.

  “Who was that guy in the lobby?” He turned his full attention on her, and his dark gaze absorbed her. She felt three feet tall and about a thousand degrees warmer. The man was an oversized, broad-shouldered, ex-military machine. His muscled thighs barely had enough room to clutch in and out.

  She blinked up at him rapidly, feeling awestruck. “An old friend,” she said. “He encouraged me to just… do it. To stop talking about it and just do it.”

  “He didn’t seem happy to see you go,” he remarked, his eyes narrowing.

  “Only when he saw you…” She let her words trail off and looked out the window, her face flushing hot. It wasn’t wrong, what she’d said, but it came out wrong all the same. She hadn’t wanted to admit it—how threatened Leo acted when he’d seen the energy coursing between herself and the tightly muscled SEAL. Immediately, there was something tangible between them. An unspeakable attraction.

  Jake’s head cocked to the side, his eyes knowing, but he said nothing.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw her driver running his hands through his slicked-back, dark-brown hair. It was long on top and trimmed on the sides, complementing his shadow of facial hair. One of his calloused hands was big enough to fit over her face, and she wondered how they’d feel.

  She’d never seen a man like him before. For one thing, she could see a tattoo poking out from under his shirt cuff whenever he switched gears. It was very fashionable in the West to be tattooed all over one’s body. Her father would have killed her brother for getting one. As for his daughters… he’d do worse than kill them for dishonoring the family with such adornments.

  A loud buzzing noise brought her attention back to the street and back to reality. She took a deep breath, but very quietly. She didn’t need him to realize how he affected her. The light at the gate flashed green, and the large metal doors began to crank open.

  “Hold on tight,” her driver commanded as he slammed the gas. “This ain’t going to be smooth.”

  He cocked the steering wheel, getting them out onto the street in a hurry. Her body smashed against the side door, even with her seat belt on, as they melted into traffic. Jake instinctively shot his hand out to protect her, and she grabbed him back, breathless.

  Then she saw an all-too-familiar pedestrian on the sidewalk outside the embassy, and she immediately released her hand.

  Leo.

  As their car whizzed past, she locked eyes with her friend. But she was frightened, and she had no time to motion to him. As her vehicle with Jake weaved in and out of lanes, the memory of Leo’s face percolated in her mind. What was his expression?

  Several blocks later, their car jerked to a stop at a red light. Her driver eyed the traffic around them, casually drifting from car to car. She knew just what he was looking for—because she was looking for the same.

  Danger.

  “Can I help?” she squeaked, after hotly debating if she should offer.

  A half grin crossed his face, the expression of an amused predator on the hunt. “Sure. You can relax,” he replied, covertly eyeing a pedestrian walking close to their car.

  “There must be something else I can do,” she muttered. She needed him to see her as capable.

  “Yup.” He pressed the gas again as the light turned green. “Have a nap.”

  The words hit her hard, and she clenched her jaw. For the first time, she felt tears well, but she chastised herself until they left her. She needed him to take her seriously.

  A white truck in front of them suddenly hit its brake lights, and so did Jake, squealing their tires.

  “Shit,” he said, hitting the gas again to get away from the truck.

  “What’s wrong?” Aisha clutched the dash nervously.

  He whipped the car down the street, weaving in and out among the other vehicles. She found herself sitting forward and clutching her chest. Something bad was happening. And though it was rough, she had to admit: the man had technique. He easily navigated impossible-looking situations.

  As they came to another red light, he looked over at her. “Do you see what you are doing here?” he asked sternly.

  “No.” She looked at her hands, embarrassed. She was leaning forward, clutching her seat belt. Her heart was beating fast, and none of the items he’d given her were still in her lap. She didn’t doubt that she looked as frazzled as she felt.

  He let out an exasperated breath and rubbed the stubble on his square, hard chin. His eyes bored into her, and for a fleeting moment she felt them pull her in.

  “Listen, princess,” he started.

  “Aisha,” she corrected.

  “Okay. Let’s start over.” He exhaled slowly. “Hi, my name is Jake. Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand in the first kind gesture he’d given her. She looked at it. Analyzed it. Questioned it.

  It was the first time in her life a man ever had extended his hand to her to shake.

  She hesitated for a good while, long enough that it became awkward, but eventually she took his hand in hers and he pumped her delicate paw up and down.

  A strange feeling washed over her. Jake shook her hand like an equal, she looked into his eyes. He was completely unfazed. But he had just done something that meant everything to her.

  “I have a job to do,” he continued. “And that job is to get you somewhere safe.” He narrowed his eyes on her.

  Aisha felt chills up and down her spine. She told herself it was just from the glare. Secretly, she knew it wasn’t.

  The light went green, and he hit the gas, moving the car as fast as he could down the street. “Do you want that too?” he asked. “Do you want to be safe?”

  “Yes.” Her voice grew stronger. “Yes.”

  At her change in tone, he paused and gave her a searching gaze. “Good.” He nodded approvingly. “Good.”

  She felt herself sitting up straighter.


  “So guess what that means?” he prompted again, eying her from the side.

  “I know. I need to listen to you. I see what you are getting at.”

  The man—Jake—was being clear about his expectations. He wanted her to listen and follow suit. She gritted her teeth. On one hand, she knew she had to be a good pet in order to survive. But she hadn’t come this far just to listen devoutly while a man told her what to do.

  She held his gaze as he assessed her for fault. Aisha opted for survival. He nodded curtly, seemingly happy with her compliance.

  “Good,” he said as the car hurtled down the streets of the city center. “Because I’m going to be honest with you. We’re being followed. It’s not good.”

  The threat of guns and imprisonment flashed before her eyes. Her breath caught and her heartbeat rose. Her spine let go, and she was back to feeling completely weak.

  She wished she were stronger. She needed to be stronger.

  “Oh my god.” She collapsed forward into her lap. “Oh my god. I can’t do this.” Her breath came quick and fast, and her head grew light and dizzy.

  “Fuck,” Jake spat, gripping the wheel tighter. “Breathe, girl.”

  The car whipped around a corner fast, and her head hit the window. Reeling in pain, she sucked back shorter and shorter breaths. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. How could I have been so stupid?”

  Her gut burned like fire, and she wished she had never come. She was a stupid woman. She deserved every stoning. Her eyelids pressed together, and her throat began to close in shock.

  The car came to a stop at another red light. It didn’t take long before Aisha felt a big bear paw tepidly pat on her back. Jake’s bear paw.

  “It’s okay.” His voice grew lower, calmer. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  With his warm body beside her, Aisha collected and calmed herself slowly, breathing in his thick, masculine scent. His voice was soothing, and his strength was almost palpable. She believed him.

  Her anxiety about her situation was matched only by her embarrassment. She had just made an idiot out of herself. Jake was probably hoping for a strong, confident companion, and he’d gotten a blubbering fool.