by Sybil Bartel
Copyright © 2020 by Sybil Bartel
Cover art by: CT Cover Creations
Cover Photo by: Wander Aguiar
Cover Model: Jonny James
Edited by: Hot Tree Editing, Jaime Ryter and Lee Piper
Formatting by: Champagne Book Design
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
Warning: This book contains offensive language, alpha males and sexual situations. Mature audiences only. 18+
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Books by Sybil Bartel
Shameless
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Epilogue
Heartless
Scandalous
Merciless
Reckless
Ruthless
Fearless
Callous
Relentless
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Sybil Bartel
The Alpha Bodyguard Series
SCANDALOUS
MERCILESS
RECKLESS
RUTHLESS
FEARLESS
CALLOUS
RELENTLESS
SHAMELESS
HEARTLESS
The Uncompromising Series
TALON
NEIL
ANDRÉ
BENNETT
CALLAN
The Alpha Escort Series
THRUST
ROUGH
GRIND
The Alpha Antihero Series
HARD LIMIT
HARD JUSTICE
HARD SIN
The Unchecked Series
IMPOSSIBLE PROMISE
IMPOSSIBLE CHOICE
IMPOSSIBLE END
The Rock Harder Series
NO APOLOGIES
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SHAMELESS
Bodyguard.
Shadow.
Warrior.
The Marines trained me to be a weapon. Tactical warfare was in my blood. I didn’t think twice when I was deployed for the fifth time, because I was born battle ready. Then a mission went south and left me with a medical discharge.
Too many years downrange, I didn’t fit in the civilian world. Taking a job with the best security firm in the business seemed like a solid plan… until I was assigned babysitting duty for a spoiled little rich girl. The only thing worse than the assignment was the client’s smart mouth. She thought she could run it—all over me—and not suffer the consequences. She was wrong.
Now she was about to find out how shameless a bodyguard could be.
For Nikki
“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE kidding me,” I muttered into the empty SUV as I pulled up to the bullshit rehab place that was more like a five-star resort and laid eyes on the woman standing out front.
Grabbing my phone, I scrolled to the most recent pic of the client, even though I knew what the hell she looked like. I’d had the displeasure of meeting her almost a year ago.
Blonde, stacked, smirking at the camera, her image played me.
I glanced back at the brunette in front of the rehab place who was standing next to two suitcases in fifty degree temps without a coat. Her ass hanging out in hot pants, boots up to her knees, stomach-baring shirt, she’d put on twenty pounds of perfect curves. Flipping her mane of wavy hair that was just begging to be fisted, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot as she glared at the Escalade.
Fuck my life, she looked like the last brunette I was stupid enough to sink my dick into.
Slowing the SUV to a stop, I put the passenger window down and leveled her with a look.
“You?” Summer Amherst asked in disgust. “What the hell was your name? Tree?”
The same damn instinct that’d hit me downrange right before everything went FUBAR kicked at my gut. I never should’ve agreed to this bullshit assignment. This chick had trouble written all over her, and that was before you took into account her background.
“Do you speak?” she asked slowly, like she talking to a fucking idiot, before her disdain turned into a sneer. “Or do you save that for when you have a gun in each hand?”
“Do you mouth off to everyone who has to bail your ass out?”
“Only the assholes being paid to do dear ole Daddy’s dirty work. Which, super professional attitude, by the way. It almost tops the last time I saw you. I’m sure Leo Amherst will want to hear all about it.”
“Don’t forget I’ve seen you in action, sweetheart. I don’t give two fucks about your father or Trinity Media Group, and I care even less about being professional.” I was only assigned babysitting duty to pick her rich ass up from rehab because she couldn’t keep her shit away from drugs. Selling out anyone and everyone who’d gotten in her way of getting high, she was a goddamn train wreck.
“Whatever.” She reached for the locked door. “What the fuck? Unlock it, you jerk.”
“Two rules,” I stated.
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Rule number one,” I continued, ignoring her bullshit. “It’s Shade. Not tree, not asshole, not jerk, not go fuck yourself. Shade. Remember that,” I commanded.
Crossing her arms, she rolled her eyes. “You done, Shade?”
Not by a long shot. “Rule number two. You get in this car, I am the law. What I say, goes. I tell you to do something, you do it. I tell you not to do something, you don’t fucking do it. I tell you to shut your mouth, you bite your goddamn tongue.”
“Is this the kind of loser André hires these days
? Control freaks with a god complex who swear every other word because their vernacular sucks? Can you even get it up anymore, old man? Or is this your way of compensating for a small dick and even smaller hard-on?”
If she weren’t twelve fucking years old, I might’ve enjoyed spanking the hell out of her for that last remark. “Get it all out now, because the second your ass hits the front seat, you’re going to be fucking respectful.”
She snorted. “Am I now?”
Mildly amused at her attitude because I was wired wrong, I tipped my chin at her bullshit outfit. “You cold in that getup?”
“Seriously, how old are you? Did you really just say getup?”
“If you’ve got a better word for trolling for attention, sweetheart, I’m all for it.”
“Hmm, let me see if I get this straight.” She grasped her own chin and brought out the innocent routine like a pro—sweet, submissive voice and all. “You can insult me, but I can’t insult you, is that it?” She dropped the pretense. “Nice personality disorder, asshat.”
“Shade,” I corrected. “Answer my question.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Dripping sarcasm, she wasn’t sorry. “I thought that was a rhetorical question about me being cold since you’re making me stand out here while you keep the doors locked.”
I fought a smile at my own brilliance of forethought. “Still waiting.”
She finally cracked. “Yes, you fucking asshole jerk, it’s forty degrees outside right now, and I don’t have a coat, so I’m fucking cold.”
“Then find some manners, and you can get in.”
“Manners.” She practically choked on her indignation. “Are you fucking serious? I’m paying you. Open the door, or I’ll have your job.”
I raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. I gave zero fucks about the money or if Luna fired me. This was a bullshit assignment, and I was doing him a favor. He knew damn well this bitch had run roughshod over half his employees already, and he knew I wouldn’t put up with it.
“Open the door!” she yelled.
“Manners,” I repeated. She had ten more seconds before I put the window up and drove around the block to teach her a lesson before coming back to see if she’d had an attitude adjustment.
It didn’t take ten seconds.
It didn’t even take five.
Three seconds later, the richest trust fund brat in Florida threw her hands up. “Fine. Whatever. Gee, Mr. Shade, can I please have a ride home to Miami in your warm and comfy SUV while I keep my mouth shut, my attitude in check, and your name branded on my forehead?”
I hit the unlock button.
WHAT AN ASSHOLE.
I should’ve known dear old Dad wouldn’t come pick me up himself, let alone my stepmom, but I’d stupidly held out hope that my dad would’ve at least sent his driver. Except that’d mean he’d be without, and God forbid Leo Amherst, owner of the music industry’s biggest record label, ever went without.
No wonder my stepmom divorced him.
I didn’t even know why I was thinking about any of this shit. Yay for being clean and having uncensored thoughts.
Yanking the door open, I got in the Escalade and was immediately hit with the scent of bodyguard—testosterone, musk, and something spicy I refused to admit smelled like heaven after six months of sterile rehab laced with overcooked food.
The asshole bodyguard with his oversized biceps threw the SUV into Drive.
“Hey!” I barked. “You forgot my luggage.”
“I didn’t forget shit.” He put the vehicle back in Park and hit the button to open the back lift gate.
Cold northern Florida chill swept into the SUV as I buckled my seat belt. “Make sure you get both suitcases.”
Slow and calculating, he turned in his seat and gave me the full weight of his dark-eyed stare. For three whole heartbeats, he didn’t say a damn word. He just stared.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, and a pulse between my legs, which I would’ve sworn was dead two seconds ago, chose that exact moment to come roaring back to life. I didn’t think I could get any more uncomfortable, but then he opened his mouth and bled dominance.
The deep, controlled timbre of his voice was quiet and so damn sexual as it crossed his full lips. “Get your suitcases.”
My heart stopped, my pulse threaded, and I suddenly wanted to climb onto his lap. To hit him or grind against him, I wasn’t sure which. He was just so… visceral, I wanted to taste him. Or smell the inked skin just below the collar of his shirt.
And I’d never wanted to taste a man.
Ever.
Not like this.
Drugs? Sure. I liked drugs. Shit, I loved them. Ever since my first taste. But men? Sex? They paled in comparison. They were just a means to an end to get that high I so desperately craved when nothing else in the world felt real.
But this tree of a crude man with his shitty, dominant attitude and whispered commands?
Damn.
I couldn’t even name a single rock star who radiated the kind of sexual presence this guy was giving off, and I’d met a fuck ton of rockers over the years.
As if sensing he’d thrown me completely off balance, his voice dropped even lower, and the calculating bastard raised one eyebrow. “You hear me or you too busy thinking about a walk on the wild side?”
Wow.
What an arrogant fuck, but wow.
I forced a mocking tone into my unsteady voice. “If you think that’s going to work on me, you seriously need to try harder.” No guy had ever given me an orgasm. He and his wild side could fuck off.
His eyes darkened, and a muscle in his jaw moved. “You don’t want to see me try hard, princess.”
“Princess?” This time, I didn’t have to force the disdain. “You can go fuck right off with your—”
His hand shot out and grabbed my jaw.
Huge, strong and forceful, his fingers, his grip, they tightened in warning, but his tone went lethally, provocatively quiet. “What are the rules?”
Heat shot from his touch and raced through my veins like fire. Before I could stop them, two words flew through my shocked brain and popped out of my mouth like my body was his to control. “Obey Shade.”
The entire right half of his mouth slid into a devastatingly sexy half smile. “That’s it,” he murmured sexually, drawing the words out like he was easing himself into my body inch by inch. “Obey Shade,” he repeated in the same sexually charged tone.
Oh my God.
Winking, he released me.
Sinking back in my seat, I was a damn puddle of want, and I hated him for it.
“Good luck with that.” I tried to snap the words at him in defiance, except I was out of breath, and all I managed to sound like was a desperate, pathetic Shade groupie.
As if knowing the exact reaction his dominance had on me, he chuckled. “Suitcases, princess.”
A shiver I couldn’t hide ran up my spine and feathered across my skin like pinpricks. Attempting to play it off, I glared at him. “What kind of useless bodyguard are you?”
That one, sexy eyebrow of his rose again, and I didn’t wait for whatever stupid excuse he was going to shovel out. I pushed my door open and hefted my own damn luggage into the SUV. Then I got back in and pulled the heavy door shut.
“What the hell is that door made of, lead?” Every inch of my traitorous body thrumming with need, I yanked my seat belt out and shoved it home like abusing a piece of plastic and metal would make anything about this fucked-up day better.
All of his sexual innuendo from a minute ago gone, his deep, rough voice cut through the heated interior as he scanned the street and the rearview and side mirrors. “It’s armored.”
“Let me guess, my father paid extra for that.”
“No.” His arms flexed as he turned the SUV around. “André Luna did.”
Popped out of the Mr. Bodyguard-Sexual bubble and hit with a dose of reality, I sighed.
Of course my father wouldn’t
think of putting me in a bulletproof vehicle. He’d never even seen the scars I sported from being shot twice.
Feeling like an idiot, I didn’t say anything more as Shade pulled away from the overpriced rehab facility I’d called home for the past six months. I’d bounced between three other rehab places before this one, with a month’s stay at a five-star resort in between where I’d snorted my weight in coke before finally breaking down and admitting I had a problem. I didn’t count any of those other rehab stints because I didn’t finish any of their programs.
For some reason this place had stuck, or maybe I’d just stuck to it. Whatever. Despite staying twice as long as I technically needed to, and my shrink saying I was ready to reacclimate to society, my stomach was churning at the idea of leaving, let alone going back to my penthouse by myself.
Which, if my dad had his way, I probably wasn’t.
“Where did dear old Dad tell you to take me?” I stupidly asked. “His house or my stepmom’s?”
“Your place.”
“Awesome,” I deadpanned. Even more proof that Leo Amherst had washed his hands of his only daughter.
Without comment, the over-inked, overmuscled bodyguard who should’ve been called Tree because he was the size of one, reached over and turned the stereo on. Heavy bass and guitar filled the SUV, making my head instantly pound.
Left without sexual gratification in the wake of his dominating suggestive bullshit, I lasted all of about half a minute.
Reaching over, I turned it off.
“What’s wrong?” Shade smirked. “Can’t handle Tool?”
“You’re a tool,” I muttered.
SHE SMELLED LIKE TROUBLE.
Hell, she walked, talked and looked like trouble.
Jailbait trouble.
I wanted to fuck her.
Once.
Maybe twice.
Thinking about her deep-throating my cock, I glanced at her and wondered if her mouth would open in shock when she came like it did when I’d grabbed her.