His to Defend (The Guard Book 2)

by Em Petrova

  She had to shake herself free of the man. She didn’t actually love him—well, not yet—but she teetered on the brink. One more encounter, one more dark look from him, and she’d pass the point of no return.

  When she turned from the window, she found herself looking upon the space where she’d spent so brief a time with Lars didn’t help matters. Everywhere she looked, she saw his handsome face, the burning intensity of his eyes…his big, muscled body.

  Since he left, she thought of little else. Amelia and Francis couldn’t even persuade her to share her language lessons with them or cook. She hated how depressed she felt. She’d never experienced such a thing and she didn’t know how to shake the feeling off.

  Thinking about her situation through a clear head, she could see why she felt the need to curl up and hide like an injured animal. Someone wanted her dead. She’d been uprooted from the country she loved, ripped from the work she lived for, and she had no support network. Funny enough, right this moment, she would even welcome a talk with Pierre over drinks. In many ways, they were actually friends.

  At least she had Olivier. Her cat never wandered far away. Now he rested on a cushion nearby, and when she looked at him, he swished his tail.

  A knock on the door made her tense. She turned, half expecting to see Lars walk in again. For a painful heartbeat, she held her breath. She didn’t know how she’d react to seeing her bodyguard. She decided days ago that she’d either stalk over and knee him in the balls or demand he take her home.

  She most definitely would not slip her arms around his neck and pull him down for one of his fiery kisses. Or unbutton her shirt, sit on his lap or any of the other things that had steered her so wrong on this confusing course.

  She looked at Amelia. The sister offered a kindly smile and then came into the room. Francis entered right behind.

  “Oh no. I sense an intervention.” Lillian tried for a light tone and failed.

  “We’d like to talk to you, Lillian.” Francis sank to the sofa, and Amelia took up residence beside her.

  Lillian drifted over to the armchair and sat. Olivier hopped onto her lap, and she thanked God for her pet’s ability to tune in to her need for comfort.

  “Lillian,” Amelia began softly, “we realize your situation is delicate. You aren’t expected to be happy while hiding from whatever it is you’re hiding from.”

  She gulped back a sudden rise of emotion.

  “We sense you’re really not faring well emotionally, dear. We’ve talked about it for days now, and we’re here to ask what we can do to help you through this period of your life.”

  “This period.” A fat lump of salty tears hit her throat. She gave a harsh laugh to dislodge it. “This period feels like it will never end!”

  Olivier, unaccustomed to an outburst from her, dug his claws into her thigh. She carefully removed him and dumped him back on the cushion near her feet.

  “I’m sorry I’m making you two feel awful on my behalf. I don’t want to cause you upset.”

  Francis shook her head. “This isn’t about us, Lillian. We’re here to aid the women who come into our care. We’ve never quite dealt with someone like you, and we’re only asking you to tell us what you need. A therapist? We can have one here today. Ice cream? I’ll run down to the shop and buy you a gallon.”

  She grated out what sounded like a laugh though held no humor. Dipping her head into her hands, she battled to figure out the question herself. What did she need? Right now, only Lars came to mind.

  When she looked up at the sisters, she saw sympathy on their faces. Amelia nodded. “That’s what we feared. This is Lars’s doing. That man makes me want to hunt him down and pull his ear!”

  She would have giggled at the vision of the petite sister catching hold of Lars’s ear and tugging, but she felt too shocked that they knew Lars was to blame.

  As if her anger couldn’t be harnessed, Amelia stood and paced to the window. She whirled, arms folded. “He has you all tangled up, doesn’t he, Lillian?”

  How to even refute that statement? She couldn’t.

  She nodded slowly. “It’s true he’s been quite confusing to me.”

  She made a noise of irritation in her throat. “He never should lay a hand on a ward.”

  Lillian stilled, staring from one to the other. “Has he…before?”

  “Not that we know of, but he’s so damn handsome, it’s no wonder women fall for him. All that mystery, and the ability to speak so many languages. He’s a mastermind when it comes to technology and I heard how he drove out of that crash at Le Mans.” She slashed a hand through the air.

  Lillian lowered her stare to the cat, who washed his paws, oblivious to how knotted up she felt. So much for having her pet’s sympathy.

  “He never should have toyed with your emotions.” Francis’s tone came out harder than anything she’d ever heard from the woman before.

  She felt the need to defend Lars on some level. “To be fair, he didn’t make me any promises. And I’m the one who started all this. I…seduced him back in Guernsey.”

  The sisters only offered more sympathetic stares and nods. “Have you fallen in love with him?” Amelia asked after a moment.

  The lump returned, bigger this time. Lillian attempted to swallow it and couldn’t get it down the whole way. Her voice came out tight as a result. “I don’t know. It’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. I don’t believe I’m in love with him. Though I can’t stop thinking about him. I really think this might be some kind of result of the danger—he saved me and now I’m behaving like a lovesick young girl.”

  “I’ve heard of it happening. A danger of the business.” Francis shook her head sadly.

  “So we’ll keep him away until it’s time for him to take you home. It’s imperative that we keep him from toying with your emotions even more,” Amelia said.

  Lillian almost did laugh—the mere thought of these two women barring Lars from entering their home and seeing her bordered on ridiculous. One glare would have them tripping to get out of his way.

  It slammed into her mind. These women knew Lars’s business far more than she did. They must have connections. “I think I have a better idea.”

  Both turned nearly identical stares on her.

  Lillian drew a deep breath. “Help me get out of here.”

  “Oh no, dear. We can’t just open the door and allow you to walk out. Your safety is our first priority.”

  She wondered how either would be capable of stopping someone if they really wanted to get at her. Their help lay in how normal they both were, and how they led such quiet lives that drew no attention from anybody, therefore giving women the ideal place to hide. Though Lillian had seen the occasional unfamiliar man walking the perimeter of the yard, she figured they were mostly left on their own, without a protector.

  “I mean, you must know other people who operate safehouses too. Help me move to another, a place where Lars won’t find me right away. When he needs to take me home, you can tell him how to find me.”

  “Lars won’t put up with us refusing to tell him where you are.” Francis knitted her fingers together in her lap.

  She compressed her lips. “Please. You know of somewhere else I can go. Just help me buy some time so I can get my head on straight again. It’s embarrassing enough that he’s thrown me so off course. I always considered myself too strong for a man to affect much. I never pictured myself in a long-term relationship or the marrying sort…until Lars.” The admission came out as a hot whisper.

  Francis jumped up and crossed the room to her, and then put her arm around her and squeezed tight. “Men confuse the best of us, dear. Why do you suppose Amelia and I are so happy to remain single? We both experienced men who didn’t have our feelings in their interests.”

  Lillian hated the idea that these women had been hurt so severely that they’d given up the idea of love. While she didn’t want to ride the same road, she now saw their reason for shuttering themselves away as
being a sound one.

  “Please help me find another situation. You’ve both been wonderful, the best of friends, but I need to find some distance and think.”

  Francis squeezed her again. “We’ll need to discuss it—”

  Amelia looked up. “I know someone on the approved list. Someone out of the way where Lars might not think to look. We’ll need to arrange it today. Within the hour if possible. Get your things ready while I make a call.”

  Lillian stood and directed a nod at Francis and then her sister. “Thank you both. I won’t forget your kindness.”

  * * * * *

  When Lars walked into the Church, several people were gathered at the front. Their uplifted voices and laughter invited a celebratory air, but he couldn’t feel further from it.

  Leaving Lillian was the hardest fucking thing he’d ever done.

  He strode up to where Oz stood with his arm slung around Rose’s shoulders. She blushed like a schoolgirl. Lars took one look at her and knew the change—she now sported a fat diamond on her ring finger.

  Unable to hold onto his own bad mood, Lars reached out and clapped Oz on the back. “I see you finally got the balls to pop the question.”

  Rose turned to him with a grin. “Nick said the same thing.”

  Lars barked out a laugh. “See? They did wonder why you hadn’t made things official with their mom. At any rate, congratulations to you both.” He hugged Rose. When he released her, he drew Oz into a back-thumping embrace. “Never thought I’d see the day, man.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  The other members of the Church who gathered around laughed and joked with the couple for another few minutes, though Lars slipped away. He had a major man-hunt on his mind.

  The dim chamber glowed with lights from the computer system, but nobody sat here. He drifted to one desk and sank to the seat, immediately setting fingers to keys.

  “I’m surprised you’re here so early, after we were out all night.” At Roman’s deep voice, he tossed a glance over his shoulder.

  “I don’t get jetlag.”

  “Well, I do, though a pot of coffee can fix that.” Roman came to lean on the desk, arms folded. “Did you check that fucker we killed last night off the list?”

  “Only in here.” He tapped his temple. “There are too many others. I’m starting to question what the hell is actually going on. It doesn’t make sense,” he told Roman, not for the first time.

  On the flight to Germany to take out another small cell with Lillian in their sights, he discussed his thoughts about the case at length. Something about sitting in the cockpit, flying through the clouds, gave a man perspective.

  “We need to look elsewhere. We can take all these guys out—hell, they all need to go down anyway—but we haven’t gotten to the root of the matter—you’re right,” Roman said.

  “I wish to fuck North wasn’t laid up. I could use his help.”

  “What about bringing Madeline in on the case? I know you don’t get along with her, though she’s the best we’ve got.”

  “I can put aside my personal preferences if it means getting answers. Go on—call her in.” He waved at Roman, who pushed away from the desk and went to the door.

  Seconds later, he entered with Madeline. She gave him a once-over. “You look like shit, Brother.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You should have stayed home and slept off the jetlag.”

  “I’m good. I need to find something.”

  Her lips tipped at the corner. She really might be pretty if she wasn’t such a bitch to everyone. He had no doubt that front carried her far in this business, but it sure as fuck didn’t win any hearts. He always wondered how the hell Oz put up with her, or how North managed to work so closely with the blonde bad-ass.

  Pivoting in his chair, he faced her. “I could use your help. I’m spinning wheels on this case.”

  She stared at the computer monitor that had a screen open marking locations where they had several reports of activity from the same group hired to kill Moreau.

  “Fill me in from the top,” she said to Lars.

  “You probably know everything we do. Insurance policy taken out on the racecar driver. He’s supposed to die in a crash on the track. I took his place and walked out of it. When I got to the sidelines, I saw a man wielding a weapon. He was supposed to shoot Moreau and instead turned on Lillian Delphine, Moreau’s press agent.”

  “And you saved her and got her out of France.” Madeline shifted her gaze to him. “What was the reason behind that? What could you do in America that you couldn’t in France?”

  He twitched his shoulders, feeling the discomfort of her direct stare and question. He’d asked himself this several times, and he couldn’t find an answer other than he wanted to guard her on his own damn turf, where he knew the ins and outs better and there would be no surprises.

  “I felt removing my ward from France would protect her better. Stay one step ahead of them—isn’t that our saying?”

  Madeline nodded. “It’s a usual practice to remove the ward. Let’s see what we have here. Then you can return Ms. Delphine home as soon as possible.”

  The burning returned to his gut at the mere thought of her being far from him, out of his reach. Away from his watch. How could he protect her if they weren’t even in the same hemisphere?

  He stifled a groan. “Yes, as soon as we know she’s safe, I can return her to France.”

  Madeline crowded in to the keyboard and typed. Seconds later, another screen popped up. Camera footage of a building in Paris. He peered closer at the screen, and his heart juddered at the sight of Lillian stepping out the door, caught in motion, reaching back to hold the door for another person and her hair swinging over her shoulder.

  “Where is that? When?” He checked the date signature in the bottom corner of the screen. “Why the fuck didn’t I ever see that?”

  “Because you weren’t looking at Delphine, only Moreau and any men associated with the men hired to kill him.”

  Goddammit. He’d let his emotions for the woman cloud his performance. One of the first things that must happen was a thorough enquiry into the ward’s life.

  Madeline threw him a look. “It says here that she placed an offer on a rather large chunk of property. She spoke with the bank manager about borrowing a large sum, and what you see here in this footage is her leaving the bank.”

  He shot up from his chair, causing it to slide backward. He slammed his fingers through his hair. Think it out. She can’t be guilty of sending out the hit.

  Except he’d seen it many times—the guilty party putting themselves on the other end of the crime in order to redirect the spotlight. In other words, she needed money and took out the insurance on Moreau. Then to keep herself from being arrested for attempted murder, she stepped into the role of the hunted.

  All this flashed through his mind.

  When he turned back to where Madeline and Roman hovered over the monitor, fury stole over Lars. He wanted to knock them both aside and demand they stop digging immediately. Fuck if he wanted confirmation of his fears. Even as he considered he could be wrong about his assumption, he pictured Lillian unbuttoning her blouse and sidling across the patio to him.

  Seduction was definitely a tactic.

  He swallowed hard.

  “I’ve gotta make a run. I’ll be back in a while.” Without explaining his sudden departure, he walked out of the chamber and strode through the church. Thank God nobody tried to stop him to talk, because he couldn’t be responsible for biting off a fellow brother or sister’s head. He already walked a precarious line when it came to his status in the Church.

  After he climbed into his vehicle, he gripped the wheel, head bowed. I better fucking be wrong about Lillian.

  All those soft looks she’d given him couldn’t be faked. Wasn’t part of her job to talk up her client to others and make them believe whatever she said about him? If that didn’t toe the line of acting, he didn’t know w
hat did.

  She’d acted strange last time he saw her. Guilt? Or fear of being caught?

  Why the fuck are you so skeptical? You’re practically accusing the woman you love.

  Love? Jesus Christ, no. Not that. He didn’t do emotions, especially when it came to women. He took what he needed to sate his body’s needs and then walked away. He’d just broken a few rules with Lillian in order to have her.

  He slammed the heel of his hand off the wheel and then passed his wrist over the ignition to start the car. When he whipped it into reverse, he slammed the brakes, skidding the car around to face forward. Then he peeled out of the parking lot and hit the streets.

  He didn’t make the conscious decision to go to Lillian, but he found himself on the road leading to the safehouse. He felt his jaw pop and realized he’d been grinding his teeth, and his knuckles were white on the wheel.

  Nobody made a fool of him. Nobody bested him.

  She didn’t. This is all Madeline playing head games with me.

  Was it, though? She only located that image of Lillian exiting the bank and found the records for a loan application. Lillian mentioned wanting a place in the countryside—maybe she had left out the fact that she found one and put in an offer. Just because he knew the feel of her bare ass in his hands and her pussy clenching around his dick in orgasm didn’t mean he knew everything there was to know about the woman.

  He issued a low growl. That better goddamn be the case and this better all be him jumping to conclusions. Because if he discovered Lillian really had used her skills of seduction to throw him off her trail… Hell, he didn’t even know what he’d do with her. He couldn’t see her put behind bars, and yet no way could he allow her to walk away if she really was guilty of this crime.

  He throttled the car into another gear and shot away from the Maryland harbor to the highway leading to the safehouse. Once he saw Lillian, he’d know how to proceed with her. He knew how to wring information from a person. He had ways to pick away the layers of their mind until they caved to him and blurted out the truth.

  The idea of using these methods on her left an acrid taste in the back of his mouth.