His to Defend (The Guard Book 2)

by Em Petrova

  “Lil. People call me Lil.”

  His pleasant expression remained, and that smile lingered around his lips.

  While she finished her sandwich, she didn’t ask more questions. But when she took up her coffee once more, she felt the urge to tell him about her work.

  “I’ve known Pierre for two years now. I met him at a party.”

  “Business or pleasure?”

  “I was there representing his competitor at the time, so business. Have you tried the grapes?”

  “Yes, they’re sour.”

  She wrinkled her nose and stood to reach for a pastry instead. After a bite or two, she set it back on the plate.

  “Is it bad too?” he asked.

  “No. I just try to avoid too many sweets.”

  He shook his head. “How very French of you.”

  He sounded as if he’d figured her out, so she picked the pastry up and took a huge bite. He ducked his head to hide a grin, not before she noted it.

  “Is Pierre a difficult man to work for?” he asked.

  “Yes and no. I’m driven to push his career to the top, though it’s not always easy. He likes to party and carouse.”

  “With other men’s wives.”

  “I think that only happened once. At least that I know of. Anyway, he isn’t a bad person. He pays me very generously.”

  “I’m sure you put in the hours, though, don’t you, Lil?” The slight drawl of her name on his tongue made her meet his stare. A flutter of awareness sidled through her, and she shoved it aside. Very few times in her life had she experienced a feeling of true attraction, and she couldn’t think of a worse time for it to happen.

  With her stomach pleasantly stuffed, she thought to wash up and stood.

  He half rose from his seat.

  “I’m just using the bathroom.”

  He dropped back heavily to the chair, causing the frame to creak under his weight, but his stare followed her every step.

  * * * * *

  Lillian really did talk a lot. But as the sun continued to sink in the sky and the light in the room went from golden sunset to gray shadows, he watched her grow more relaxed. Talking seemed to help her unwind, and he was a natural listener.

  “I grew up in a small suburb outside Paris. My parents still live there and—” She stopped on a gasp.

  His instincts were to get up and check the perimeter of the room again, but he resisted because he knew it was secure. “What’s wrong?”

  “My cat. He’s all alone in my apartment. We have to go get him.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Your cat will be okay. Cats are self-sustaining.”

  She shoved a lock of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know I was leaving for days. There isn’t enough water or food set out. Please.”

  “No way.”

  She sent him a glare. “Why are you so heartless?”

  “I’m not. I just refuse to compromise your safety for a cat.”

  She jumped off the bed, strode into the bathroom and slammed the door. He stood and stretched the tight muscles in his back. Let her huff and puff with anger over his refusal to return for her cat. He knew he was in the right.

  Drifting to the window, he parted the curtains and peeked out. The area seemed to be slumbering, and the inn was quiet.

  Lars threw a look at the closed door. No way in hell was he going back for a cat. An animal would slow them down, involve feeding and breaks to do its business. And cats shed.

  After listening hard, he didn’t detect any crying. She may talk nonstop and ask countless questions, but at least the woman wasn’t one of those bawling messes he’d dealt with several times in his career.

  She’d get over the upset about her cat. What the hell did he care anyway?

  He walked past the door, straining to hear. No sound came from within.

  Suddenly, the door flew open, and she faced him, standing mere inches away. Her gaze latched on his chest, and then she slowly lifted her dainty jaw to meet his eyes. “Can I make a call to my neighbor to look in on my cat?”

  “No.”

  She opened her mouth, and he knew a tirade was about to take place.

  “I can get someone to look in on the cat,” he cut her off before she started.

  “How can you get into my apartment?”

  He leveled a look at her. With her so close, he saw the pink flush of anger on her cheeks. Would all that French blood and passion be equally as hot between the sheets?

  Hell, what was he thinking? He must remain focused and not think about her other than as his ward—someone to protect with his life. Standing so close to the woman, though, he felt a tingle of interest. Why? It wasn’t her curves beckoning to him. The woman resembled an ironing board.

  Yet she intrigued him in ways he couldn’t figure out, and dammit, he was going to figure her out.

  Stepping back, he eyed her. Couldn’t be her voice. She never stopped talking, even at the worst possible points of danger.

  She raised her jaw another notch, a defiant gleam in her hazel eyes. “I’d like to come out of the bathroom now. Do you mind moving? You’re like a stone wall.”

  He nearly chuckled at her description of him. Well, he could be worse things than a stone wall.

  With a sweep of a hand, he stepped aside. She returned to her perch on the bed and sank to the edge. Lars went back to studying her from the armchair.

  Being close to a woman was nothing new or unusual for Lars. They all rescued women every day—most of their clientele was female. She wasn’t even beautiful, not in a conventional sense of beauty. So what about her kept drawing his stare back to her?

  His mind drifted to his boss, Oz. Having a history with his own ward, Rose, hadn’t helped him when it came to keeping his hands off her and reining in his desires. Though Lillian was nothing to Lars—just another woman in a long line of women to protect.

  He bit back a groan of irritation. Right now, he wished he had Pierre under guard instead of this woman he couldn’t make sense of.

  Maybe if he figured her out more, he’d stop thinking about whether or not she was afraid or uncomfortable or disliked him. It’s a useless pursuit of my mind. What does it matter, as long as I keep her safe?

  Crossing a line would end in disaster. He and the Church already had bad blood. Believing him a turned spy for the Russians, the members had gone for his throat and nearly ripped the chip out of his wrist for what they believed to be treason. He couldn’t get away with laying hands on his very normal, uninteresting ward.

  Chapter Four

  They watched a little mindless TV. She found a selection of old paperback novels that she attempted to skim, to pass the time. Eventually, she fell asleep early fully dressed and curled on the corner of the mattress.

  She woke several times in the darkness to see Lars slumped in the armchair. At one point, she considered waking him to share the bed with her. While she didn’t like the guy—or the situation—she still held humanity and kindness in high regard. In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to shake a big, dangerous man like him awake, so she laid there until she drifted off again.

  The mattress sinking under her roused her awake, and she shifted, only to roll into the divot created by Lars’s weight.

  She jerked upright, blinking through grainy eyes at the man sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.

  “My contacts need peeled off my eyeballs at some point, but I don’t have a change of clothes let alone contact solution.”

  Lars offered her a hint of a smile, which seemed more like a twitch of his hard lips, reminding her of horse’s hide shivering to shake off flies. “I can try to find you some solution. At least you slept.”

  “Not well,” she grated out.

  He released a huff. “Are you hungry?”

  She glanced down to see the tray he held. A loaf of bread, with more of that honey dolloped on top, yogurt, berries and another pot of coffee awaited her.

  “Yes, I am hungry, even though I’m
not sure why I have any appetite. Knowing someone wants me dead should surely be a diet aid.”

  “You’re far from in need of a diet. But I’ve seen people react differently in your situation.”

  Her sleep fog cleared out of her mind at his words. How many people did he protect that he made distinctions between their habits?

  “I’ll just slip into the bathroom,” she said and eased to her feet. Moving past him brought an awareness to her. She rarely woke up with a man, and even though he didn’t sleep with her, she still felt the strangeness of seeing Lars’s rugged face first thing when she opened her eyes. His brown hair had a way of being rumpled without looking messy, but the thick sprout of hair on his angled jaw reminded her that he was all man.

  She quickly showered, using some small bottles of shampoo and body wash provided by the inn. Luckily she also located a new toothbrush and toothpaste on the vanity.

  She rushed through the rest of her toilette, thinking of how well that hot coffee would go down after her rough night. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Lars’s pine-green stare settled on her, leaving her with an annoying shyness.

  We aren’t lovers. I have no reason to feel this way.

  He stood at the window, and he’d changed from the racing gear he used to impersonate Pierre. Oh, and when had his eyes turned from Pierre’s dark brown to green? She had no memory of when it might have happened, but clearly he’d ditched the contacts.

  “Where did you get a change of clothes? Let me guess—you snapped your fingers and they appeared out of thin air, like in a child’s book.”

  His lips twitched again, though he didn’t smile. “We’ll get some clean clothes for you soon.”

  Nodding, she moved to the edge of the bed and drew the tray across the covers to her. The tray only contained one meal and one coffee cup.

  “You already ate?” she asked.

  “You’re speaking English, you realize.”

  Her gaze flashed to him. “I suppose I flip-flop often, because of my upbringing. Do you have a language preference?”

  “Not at all. I can keep up.”

  She had no doubt he could. As she poured herself coffee and lifted the steaming cup to her lips, the rich scents flooded her head and woke her up even more.

  “What happens today? Another gun fight? Perhaps a car chase?”

  He turned from the window. “With luck, none of those things. By the way, your cat is okay.”

  She blinked at the burn behind her eyes several times. Still the tear escaped the corner. Relief swept over her, and she lowered her cup to the tray again with a shaky hand.

  In a stride, Lars reached her—the room seemed far too small to harness his huge proportions and power—and he sank to the bed beside her. For a terrifying moment, she thought he might try to take her into his arms.

  He raised a hand and brushed the tear off her cheek…and the tenderness did more to throw her off course than all the events so far. She understood danger and precautionary measures, but she couldn’t reconcile this huge and lethal man sweetly wiping away her tears.

  “I don’t suppose whoever fed Olivier gave him the tuna he loves.” She sniffled. Silly to worry about her pet getting his favorite breakfast when God knew what she faced.

  Lars chuckled. “My person fed him whatever he found in the kitchen.”

  She nodded. “We can swing by my apartment and get Olivier. Then you can take us to my parents’ home.”

  He tightened his fist on his thigh. “I told you no.”

  “But—”

  His gaze penetrated her, deep down to the marrow, leaving her feeling as though he’d just x-ray scanned her. She felt more vulnerable today, easily picked apart. Somehow, some way, she needed to find enough bricks of strength to build a wall around herself once more. Either that or she’d crumble every other minute.

  “Lillian, you saw what happened in that country house. Three armed men came because you were inside. Do you want your parents put into danger?”

  “No.” Tears threatened for real, rising up like a tide. Again, she managed to beat it all back down.

  Raising the cup again, she noted how her hand trembled, and by the tightening of Lars’s lips, he apparently did too.

  “What’s next?” She drew a sip of the fortifying drink.

  “Next is you trusting me.” He returned to the window. While she ate, she took in his pose and how he stood to the side of the window frame, as if prepared to leap out of the line of fire. The inn had an eerie silence to it. None of this seemed real.

  She worked her way through the yogurt sprinkled with fresh berries and took a bite or two of the sweet bread then set it aside.

  The entire time, Lars divided his attention between her and what he saw outside the window. The odd intimacy fell over them again, and she brushed the crumbs from her lips.

  His gaze tracked the movement, and then he turned away. “If you’re finished eating, get your shoes on. We’re leaving this place.”

  While she went for her low-heeled boots, he withdrew his money clip again and dropped several more large bills on the food tray. Standing, she pushed her shower-damp hair off her face. They faced each other, and suddenly—unexpectedly—a sharp knife of attraction twisted in her gut.

  Trust him... What choice did she have but to do just that? He’d saved her life twice. Just his overbearing presence proved he was more than capable of snapping necks and tossing bodies like some superhero—or villain.

  As she studied his sculpted shoulders and broad chest, she felt a second jab of attraction. Why? Of all people, of all times in life, why did her body have to choose this man to interest her on a primal, physical level, when she really disliked him in every other way?

  “Let’s go.”

  She glared at his demanding tone but readied herself and followed him out. They never saw the owner again, nor the wife he spoke of who fixed their meals. Lillian felt a bit bad about not taking the time to thank the couple, though she supposed his generous compensation had been thanks enough.

  He guided her with a hand on her shoulder, propelling her too fast and steering her out the door like a vacuum cleaner. In the parking area, she shook him off and turned to find an empty spot where he’d parked the van.

  Her brow creased. “What happened to the van?”

  Lars’s lips tipped up at the corner. “Traded her in for a fast car.”

  She gaped at him. “Who the hell do you work for?”

  Without a response, he gripped her shoulder and led her to the car, head swinging right and left, and moving fast in the open area. Her skin prickled with the knowledge that someone could be waiting for them to come out.

  She dragged in a breath, and the country air filled her head with wildflowers and grass, not the terrifying stench of burning oil from a car explosion or the reek of blood from the men Lars shot back at the house. Her brain couldn’t connect the apprehension weighing on her with her love of the countryside.

  Lars opened the door and tried to push her into the car.

  She threw him a dirty look. “I know how to get into a car.”

  He gave her that flat blasé expression she was beginning to despise and stepped back, though he couldn’t resist waving a hand for her to hurry up.

  When she settled in the seat, she reached for the door handle, but he shut the door in her face.

  Ugh. There have to be less rude bodyguards out there.

  Right now, she didn’t know which was worse—surviving this ordeal or suffering through Lars’s attitude.

  He slid behind the wheel and threw her a look. “Put your seatbelt on.”

  As she did, she shot him a glare of her own. “This might be a better experience if I had a nicer bodyguard.”

  “You think I’m not nice?” he practically growled like a wild wolf. He whipped the car onto the street at a speed that made her grip the dash. She glanced in the side mirror to check if they were being chased. Behind them, she saw nothing.

  Clinging to
the armrest, she fired another glare his way. “Do you hear yourself? You don’t exactly sound nice.”

  “I can be nice.” He lowered his voice, though his tone still grated. “I’m sorry if you think I need to use please and thank-you while I’m fighting to keep you alive.”

  “This ordeal is confusing and frightening enough without you giving me orders and slamming doors in my face.” From the corner of her eye, she studied his profile. Hard, chiseled into stone and his expression unmoving. Not even an eyelash flickered, and she knew she wouldn’t get anywhere with this argument.

  “Let’s just talk about something else,” she said, trying to relax into her seat while he drove at a speed well above the limit.

  “Like what?”

  She gestured to the road. “Like what a beautiful country this is. Of course, you’re driving so fast, all we can see is a blur.”

  He made a show of lifting his boot off the gas pedal and drifting for a long stretch. They went slower and slower. A scream gathered at the back of her throat.

  “I don’t mean drive like you’re old and blind. Just drive a normal speed. The fields of sheep are my favorite.”

  When he turned his focus from the road and locked it on her, she felt that tickle deep in her belly that only came from a hot man giving her his undivided attention. The last time that happened…

  She had to think hard about her former encounters. For a short spell, she’d dated another press agent. Their chemistry had been off the charts, with flirting every chance they got. Once between the sheets, the attraction fizzled. Turned out he didn’t hold the same intrigue for her once she realized they had nothing to discuss other than work.

  Looking at Lars, she thought at least her former boyfriend hadn’t treated her like he could think of anything better to do than to save her life.

  She gazed out the side window at the pastoral views she loved. Green fields high with waving grasses and wildflowers and a flock of sheep were on full display under the pale blue sky.

  “I apologize for what I said.” She swung her head from the window to meet his stare.