Heartless (The Alpha Bodyguard Series Book 9)

by Sybil Bartel

  For two heartbeats, he said nothing.

  Then his voice, quiet and deep, touched my heart. “Let’s go home.”

  I wanted to shoot Vance.

  He did me a favor, but I still wanted to shoot him. This would hang between us, and I didn’t want to owe him a damn thing. Not to mention, I didn’t trust what he’d said. I wasn’t worried about Harm, Luna, Trefor or Sanaa saying anything, but I was worried about all the first responders on scene. Covering up a fatal gunshot wound involved more than paying off a few cops.

  Walking Sanaa to one of the company SUVs, I opened the door for her.

  She glanced expectantly at me.

  I didn’t say anything.

  She got in and I pulled her seat belt out before clicking it into place like I used to when we were younger.

  “Thank you,” she quietly murmured, searching my face.

  “You’re welcome.” I closed her door and dumped her things in the back, but then I pulled my phone out and dialed before I opened the driver door.

  Luna answered on the first ring. “Problem?”

  Yeah. “You’re on board with Vance covering up Abernathy’s COD?”

  “Hold.” I heard a door open and close, then Luna spoke again. “It wasn’t only him.”

  Goddamn it. “When were you going to tell me?”

  “Vance said he would tell you.”

  I tried to rein it in, because I respected Luna, but I didn’t like being handled. “This wasn’t either of your call. He was holding her hostage, and I took the shot. It was clean.”

  Luna was silent a moment, then he sighed. “You want me to hold your dick or tell you the truth?”

  My jaw clenched, my hand about to crush the phone, I didn’t reply.

  “All right.” Luna took my silence as consent. “Here’s the deal. This whole op was FUBAR from the get-go. Your history with it only added to the mess, but you weren’t the only one who made mistakes. With the exception of the damage to the hotel, this situation couldn’t have had a better outcome, and even I don’t give a fuck about the hotel when frankly, it provided the cover we needed to clean this whole thing up so we can all walk away. Abernathy and whoever his piece of shit assistant was ten years ago aren’t worth one of my men throwing himself on the sword for, let alone one of my brothers. You’re familia, hermano. I made a call. Vance made a call. It’s done. Walk away.”

  “Am I supposed to thank you?”

  “No,” Luna stated flatly. “Because you’re like me, and I’d be pissed too at being handled, not to mention not doing the honorable thing. But I’m telling you, in this case, it’s better off if none of this shit comes to light, including your past and your connection to Abernathy.”

  I knew he was right, and it would only hurt Sanaa if it all came out.

  Exhaling, I made the decision. “Fine, I’ll stick to the script.”

  “Good choice. If the investigators call, tell them you don’t know what the fuck happened and leave it at that. And Ronan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Take care of her.”

  I glanced at the SUV. “Plan on it.”

  “Copy that. See you when you get back from London.”

  “I never told you I was escorting her back.” He’d assumed, correctly, but it’d still been an assumption.

  Luna chuckled. “You didn’t have to.” He hung up.

  Pocketing my phone, I opened the driver door and got behind the wheel. I only spared her a glance, because if I let my gaze linger, my mouth would be on hers.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked in a quiet voice that told me she was worried both for me and about the situation.

  I turned the engine over, but then I cupped the side of her face. “We’re sticking to the script. Abernathy died from his own bomb. You didn’t see him. I didn’t see him. You were in the suite while I helped Harm, and you didn’t leave until I took you to the elevator shaft.”

  Her fingers covered my wrist, and she gave me a slight smile. “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  She inhaled deep, and her eyes welled. “Being here.”

  Two words and she fucking gutted me, because all of a sudden, I was looking at the last ten years.

  “Don’t.” Her eyebrows drew together. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  She couldn’t possibly. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Ronan,” she quietly chided. “We’re here now.”

  But she may not want to be after I told her what I should’ve admitted days ago. “I saw you perform once.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Four years ago,” I added.

  She pulled my hand away from her face, and I let her.

  “At Madison Square Garden.” She’d admitted to me one night when she was only sixteen that it’d been a dream of hers to perform there. She’d said if you ever booked Madison Square Garden, then you knew you’d made it. When I’d heard she was playing there, I’d bought a ticket, gotten leave, and flown from Afghanistan to Germany to New York.

  “You were in New York,” she stated, her hands folding in her lap. “At my show.”

  “Opening night,” I confirmed.

  She stared at me, waiting for more.

  “You were beautiful.” So goddamn beautiful, it’d hurt to look at her when she’d walked out on stage in a revealing white dress. But then she’d started to sing. The crowd went insane, and I’d lost my fucking mind. I’d never been more proud of her, but I couldn’t watch twenty thousand people scream her name. I couldn’t watch the men in the audience staring at her, knowing what they were thinking.

  “You didn’t come see me after the show,” she accused.

  I didn’t make it though the first song. “I never would’ve gotten past security.” Halfway through, like a coward, I’d left.

  “You could have told anyone who you were and you would’ve gotten backstage.”

  It was my turn to stare at her.

  “Your name has always been on my all-access list for every single concert. All you would’ve had to do was show your ID.” Her hands perfectly still in her lap, her shoulders proud, she’d slipped back to professional Sanaa.

  I hated it. “I’m sorry.”

  She stared at me a beat longer, then she leaned back in her seat and looked out the windshield. “You didn’t know.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was stating a fact or looking for confirmation. “I didn’t know.”

  She looked back at me. “Would it have made a difference?”

  “I’m not going to answer that, and you’re not going to ask it again.” Either answer was shit. “If we do this, we move forward.”

  “If?” she asked.

  This was one of the things we needed to talk about. “Yes, if.”

  She immediately turned away from me.

  I caught her chin and brought her back to me. “This is one of things we need to discuss, Sanaa.”

  “Sanaa,” she snorted, pulling out of my grasp and turning toward the window. “You only call me that when you’re being distant.”

  “Look at me,” I demanded.

  Spinning on me, she threw her hands up and spit hurt masked as anger. “Why? So you can give me every reason why we shouldn’t be here?”

  I didn’t hesitate. My hand was on her throat, and my thumb and forefinger held her jaw firm. I dropped my voice. “I did not give you reason to doubt me. I said if. That implies choice, and I’m going to give you a choice, right now, this one time.” I held her gaze. Then I forced myself to give her the goddamn choice. “You give yourself to me fully or not at all.”

  Her breath hitched, and her mouth opened.

  “I’m not finished,” I warned.

  Her mouth closed, but her pulse sped up.

  I wanted to dominate the hell out of her. I wanted to fuck her hard for hours until she was begging me to come, writhing for it. Then, after she was satiated and boneless in my arms, I wanted to make love to her for the rest of the night. But we now
had closer to six hours, she needed a shower and sleep, and I didn’t have enough goddamn time to show her what it would be like between us. All I had right now was my voice, my tone and a promise.

  “If you give yourself to me, then that’s it, Sanaa,” I warned. “You will belong to me. I’ll take you back to my place, bathe you, give you a release, then put you to bed. In the morning, I’ll fly back to London with you. On the flight we’ll discuss logistics for after the concert.” Inhaling, I gave her the alternative. “If you’re not all-in, then I’ll still take you back to my place, you’ll shower, then you’ll sleep in your own bed. I’ll take you back to London, make sure you get situated with your security there safely, then we’ll say goodbye.” That was it. She was either in or out. I wasn’t doing halfway with her. “Make a decision.”

  Her throat moved with a swallow. Then her voice came out in whisper. “I know how you feel about me being famous.”

  “No, you don’t.” She had no fucking idea how proud of her I was. Nor did she fully comprehend that she probably would not be where she was today if we had been together, because she would’ve given up opportunities for me. But that wasn’t what she was getting at. I knew exactly where she was going with this. “I said discuss. I’m not asking you to give up your career.” I just hoped like fuck I could deal with whatever she decided.

  “You want control.”

  “Yes, I do. In the bedroom and when we’re alone.” And every other goddamn time she’d let me. But that would take time between us, and discussions about boundaries and what she truly wanted outside closed doors. “No matter what, I will always respect you.”

  “Even when you’re spanking me?” she barely whispered.

  My cock hardened to the point of pain, and my hand tightened on her. “Especially then.”

  Her breath came shorter, and she licked her lips.

  It took all my self control not to drag her into my lap. “Decide, Sanaa.”

  “Will you be mine?”

  I already was. “Without question.”

  Her gaze dropped.

  I gave her a slight shake. “Eyes on me.”

  She lifted her gaze back to mine and whispered, “Do you love me?”

  I was merely a man.

  She was a goddamn goddess.

  I didn’t deserve her. I didn’t deserve a single fucking minute with her. But I got a gift that day I heard her sing for the first time. Before I even saw her, I heard something special in her voice—raw talent, innocent beauty, desperate hope, and above all, determination. It’d gripped me by the throat and stolen my fucking breath.

  I fell in love with her before I knew what she looked like.

  And I hadn’t stopped.

  She was it for me. She always had been.

  “Give me your answer, Songbird,” I demanded, selfish and on edge and refusing to acknowledge her question and give her any more of myself before she gave me an answer.

  “Tell me you still love me,” she ordered, issuing her own demand.

  “I don’t have to.” Losing control, I leaned closer. “I never stopped.”

  His mouth crashed over mine, and his tongue demanded entrance.

  Still holding me dominantly by my throat, he kissed me fiercely. Like the winds outside, he blew through my defenses, and he claimed me. My heart sung, my core wept and I wanted to lose myself in his demands.

  But just as abruptly as he’d surged, he retreated.

  His thumb swept across my bottom lip, rough and possessive as his eyes burned into my soul. “Decide,” he ordered, his voice thick and guttural.

  “I don’t have to.” I smiled. “I already have.”

  His nostrils flared, and he issued a single warning. “Songbird.”

  I took his beautifully austere face in both of my hands. “Yes. A thousand times yes.” I gave him words to one of the few songs I had written that my label let me perform live. “I am you. You are me. We are one.”

  He stared at me for a long moment, and I knew. He recognized the lyrics.

  Inhaling sharply, a slight shake overtaking his shoulders, he kissed my forehead reverently. “Thank you,” he rasped.

  “I lov—”

  His hand covered my mouth. “Remember what I said.”

  A tingle went through my limbs and settled low in my stomach. I remembered what he’d said. Every word. Nodding, I held his wrist.

  Slow, he dropped his hand, but not his gaze. His eyes staying on mine, his attention so consuming and dominant, I felt his intensity all the way to my soul. I didn’t know how I had survived ten years without this man, but I didn’t want to spend another day without him ever again.

  As if reading my thoughts, he lifted his chin. Then he put the SUV in gear and backed out of the parking space. With the same confidence and ease that had made my heart flutter all those years ago, he handled the large vehicle as if it was second nature and drove us out of the garage and onto the darkened streets of downtown Miami.

  The wind howled around us, and the traffic lights swayed, but Ronan kept the heavy vehicle steady. With the terrible weather keeping people in, it was as if we were alone in the world, and the thought made me smile.

  His hand landed on my thigh. “What are you thinking?”

  A memory surfaced. “You know, I never did learn to drive.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “I taught you.”

  I laughed. “You tried to teach me.” He’d been patient and kind and never once made me feel nervous, but all the other cars on the road were a different story. “You let me freak out behind the wheel while a million other cars drove around us honking and giving unkind hand gestures while I drove slower than my grandmother.” I shook my head at the memory.

  “You knew how to drive. You just lacked confidence at the time.”

  “Oh, I lacked a whole lot besides just confidence,” I admitted with humor. I was a terrible driver. “Besides, I’m still waiting to drive for when I buy a boat. Like I said back then, and I still say now, there’s a lot less traffic on the ocean.”

  His expression shut down. “You said you wanted to live on the water.”

  I smiled. “I remember. On a big boat with shiny white decks and sleek lines and air conditioning.” I laughed. “I liked to dream big back then.” Watching the empty street blur by, I realized how much I’d missed this. Simple things like car rides and no entourage of security and handlers and my assistants.

  “Do you have a home?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts

  My smiled faded. “I do not. I don’t even own my grandmother’s house anymore.” I looked out the window at the violently swaying palm fronds and wondered where he lived. “It became impractical. I was living on the road, and I wouldn’t have been able to go back there anyway. Do you still have your mother’s house?” I missed the freedom of not having fans or paparazzi follow me.

  “No. Vance sold it.”

  “Shame.” It was a nice house. Small, but tidy and cute. “Where do you live now?” I couldn’t picture him in an apartment or condo, but Miami Beach was expensive, and he wasn’t driving inland, he was heading toward the water.

  “We’re almost there,” he evaded, turning toward the marina.

  I glanced at some of the high-rises skirting the gated entrance to the docks, and my stomach churned with nerves. “You said no elevators.”

  “I did.” He pulled up to a gated parking area and lowered the window to enter a code into a keypad.

  Wind whipped into the SUV, and I shivered.

  The gate lifted as he put the window back up and pulled into the parking area, taking a spot next to an identical SUV.

  Turning the engine off, he clipped out a command. “Wait until I come get you.” He was out of the vehicle before I could reply.

  The heavily tinted front passenger window of the other car went down, and Ty appeared. While Ronan spoke to him, I glanced at the high-rises behind us. No elevators would mean only a few flights, and while I was relieved, I was also suddenly so
tired, I didn’t want to think about climbing stairs.

  Before I set in to a proper pout, the back opened, and Ronan grabbed my bag and purse. A moment later he was opening my door and holding his hand out.

  I glanced warily around the parking lot and then across the way to the closest high-rise. “I don’t usually walk this far without a security team anymore.”

  “It’s not far, and you’re safe. No one followed us in or out of Luna and Associates.”

  “Okay.” I took his hand and stepped down.

  As soon as my feet touched the ground, he pulled me close.

  But then he didn’t lead me toward the condominiums.

  He led me toward another gate. In front of a dock. Then he dropped my hand and punched in another code.

  Wind whipping my hair around, small insistent waves beating against boat hulls, the air heavy with atmospheric pressure, I looked up at him. “Ronan?”

  Pulling the gate open, he held it for me. “Almost there.”

  My heart racing as fast as the wind, I stepped through, but then I took a moment.

  We weren’t merely on a dock at a marina. We were at the marina. The one we’d snuck into as teens to look at all the boats. But they weren’t boats. They were yachts. Big, giant, fancy, expensive yachts.

  Yes, I had money. I had a lot of money. So much, I wasn’t even exactly sure how much. But I was still the girl who grew up in Trinidad with no food. I was the woman who avoided looking at the price tags on the clothes my assistants brought me to wear. I was a famous singer with wealth that made me uncomfortable.

  But I was also that teen that envied these beautiful boats.

  His hand back grasping mine, pulling me down the dock, Ronan led us to a gleaming white and dark charcoal gray yacht that looked like it’d been built yesterday.

  Tossing my bags onto the deck, he turned to me.

  “Ronan.” My voice broke and then I was speechless because I saw the name on the back of the boat in big, beautiful, bold script.

  Songbird.

  Tears spilled over, and I threw my arms around him. Then I was sobbing, from joy, from heartache, from so many missed years and from my own stupid, stupid mistake a decade ago. “You bought a boat. You bought the boat.” This looked almost identical to the one I’d said was my favorite, but this one was newer and prettier and oh my God. “I can’t believe this.”