Raw Power

by Jackie Ashenden

  She didn’t want to press her face against his skin. She didn’t want to do anything at all with him. He was an arrogant jerk who’d killed her last night of freedom and was her father’s spy into the bargain.

  She hated him.

  Slowly she leaned back against the leather of the seat, intending to grab her phone and ignore him with some extremely busy and necessary texting. Yet she couldn’t resist the urge to glance at him again, something inside her irresistibly drawn to the lines of his dark, scarred face.

  He wasn’t looking at her. His attention was fixed on the rearview mirror at the front of the car, watching the driver with such an intense focus it made her shiver right down deep inside.

  She didn’t know why he was looking at the driver so intently, but at least that took his attention off her for a change.

  Oh, come on. You liked him looking at you like that.

  She pulled her phone out of her little clutch and scowled down at the screen. No, she didn’t like it. In fact, she hated it. Hated the exposed, vulnerable feeling that had swept through her, reminding her of too many things she didn’t want to remember.

  Silence descended in the car, heavy as a lead curtain.

  Callie concentrated hard on her phone, though for some reason she couldn’t quite shake her awareness of the man next to her. He was sitting so very still and yet he wasn’t relaxed, not in the slightest. There was a subtle tension in him, every muscle tightly wound, like a great cat ready to pounce.

  It made her tense too, her awareness of him becoming acute, which she didn’t appreciate. She was cold, tired, and now that she knew she was going to have to answer to her father for her escape tonight, all she wanted was to get home, have a shower or maybe a bath, then crawl into bed and forget this whole damn evening had ever happened.

  She was in the middle of doing just that with a mindless game of solitaire on her phone when the car abruptly slowed and pulled over to the side of the road.

  She didn’t really pay attention, too busy pondering her next move, but next thing she knew Jack was suddenly surging up and out of his seat, leaning forward to wind one powerful arm around the driver’s neck, jerking the man’s head back. The driver let out a choked cry as Jack reached forward with his free hand, grabbing at something.

  Too shocked to move, Callie stared as Jack raised his hand again, now holding a gun, and brought the butt of the weapon down hard over the back of the driver’s head. The man groaned, then slumped down in his seat, unconscious.

  Callie blinked, shock still pulsing through her. “What the hell did you just do?”

  “He is not Jim’s replacement.” Jack held up the gun. “And this is not my gun.” He didn’t look at her, digging his phone out of his pocket. “Stay here.” Before she could say a word, he pulled open the door and got out of the car, slamming it behind him.

  Silence fell, the engine ticking.

  Callie blinked again, the shock beginning to fade, realization seeping through her, cold as the air outside.

  Jack had said the driver wasn’t Jim’s replacement. And that had been the driver’s gun. And there was only one reason he’d have one.

  Ice formed in her gut.

  Oh God. Her father had been right. The threat she’d assumed was simply another way for him to gain some control over her life was in fact genuine.

  Cold tendrils of fear wound through her. Great. So not only did she have a controlling asshole for a father, she now had someone who wanted to harm her. Which left her with no reasonable excuse to get rid of Jack. Not that she could think of any reasonable excuses to get rid of him anyway, but this changed things. Made his presence not only certain but possibly permanent.

  Say good-bye to your freedom.

  Her hands shook as she shoved her phone back in her clutch, but she forced the sudden rush of despair away. Okay, so the cage had closed and this night of freedom was over. Yet that didn’t mean her life was over with it.

  She was just going to have to think harder and plan smarter for her eventual escape. Because she would escape. She simply refused to contemplate anything else.

  Just then the driver’s door opened and Jack was hauling the driver out and onto the sidewalk. A second later he was back, getting behind the wheel this time, shutting the door and starting the engine.

  “W-What’s happening?” Callie asked, hating the slight stutter in her voice yet not being able to control it. “Who was that guy? You’re going to just leave him on the side of the road?”

  Jack glanced in the rearview mirror, his intense gaze catching hers. A passing car’s headlights illuminated his face, making his scars seem very pronounced, sharp shadows from which his green eyes glinted dangerously.

  And it wasn’t the icy fear that tightened this time, but something else. Something hotter. Something that reveled in his danger. That liked it.

  Okay, it really was true. She was insane.

  “What’s happening is that stupid asshole just tried to kill us.” Jack’s rough voice was curt. “Luckily, I saw him fumbling around with that gun before he actually did anything with it and was able to stop him. I’ve notified your father’s security team and they’re going to deal with him. Right now, though, we have to get you home.”

  Callie swallowed, her mouth gone dry. And she couldn’t help thinking how weird it was that even though she was scared, she wasn’t as scared as she should be. And that it had something to do with him. Just like back in the nightclub there had been something about him that made her feel she could sass at him, shove at him, and nothing bad would happen.

  A weird thing to feel about a man who’d been employed by her father and who, any second now, would be calling the senator to inform him just where the hell she’d been all night. If he hadn’t already.

  “Princess,” Jack growled from the front seat.

  She blinked, pulling herself together. “What?”

  “I didn’t want you to get into the car outside the club, because I had a bad feeling about the driver. Turns out I was right about him. So next time, I tell you to wait, you fucking wait. Understand?”

  “Yes,” she muttered thickly.

  His gaze in the rearview mirror was relentless. “And when I tell you not to run from me, you don’t fucking run from me, not like you did back in the nightclub, got it?”

  “Sure.” She had to force herself to look away, glancing back down at her phone, hoping like hell he didn’t see her hands shake.

  Because again, it wasn’t from fear.

  It was from relief.

  * * *

  Her hands were shaking. She tried to hide it, but he didn’t miss the slight tremble as she went back to texting or whatever the hell she was doing on her phone. Pretending she wasn’t as freaked out as she actually was, apparently.

  Gutsy little thing.

  Though, really, she didn’t have to act like she wasn’t bothered to him. He wouldn’t judge her if she was scared—this shit was scary to civilians. And anyway, that’s why he was here. So she didn’t have to be scared.

  Still, gutsy or not, keeping Callie Hawthorne safe was proving to be a pain in the ass, especially when the damn woman kept running away and refusing to listen to him.

  But she was going to have to. Because that little episode had been way too close a call, especially since he’d had a bad feeling about it the moment the car had pulled up to the curb.

  The driver had been way too cocky and had stared at Callie way too much. The ID he’d waved in front of Jack’s face had looked suspicious and Jack had been going to give it a closer inspection. And then Callie had pulled at him, insisting she had to get in the car and get in now.

  His instinct had told him that he needed to check the driver out first, but it was true that it was extremely cold out and Callie was starting to look blue around the mouth and so he’d given in.

  A mistake on his part. A mistake he wasn’t going to make again.

  Pulling out into the traffic, he began following the GPS to Calli
e’s small Beacon Hill town house. She wasn’t going to like it when he made her wait in the car yet again, but this time he wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. He needed to check her town house out thoroughly before she went anywhere near it.

  In fact, now that he thought about it, going straight to her known place of residence after an attempt on her life was probably a fucking stupid thing to do.

  Better to take her somewhere else and keep her there until he’d completely secured her town house. Jesus, even leaving her in the car was a dumb move, because who would keep her safe while he was checking out her place? Yeah, not going to happen.

  “What’s your favorite hotel?” he asked, already thinking ten steps ahead.

  “My favorite hotel?” she repeated, sounding blank. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “You can’t go home. Not after that. I need to take you someplace else with good security, where no one will know you’re there.”

  “What? What do you mean I can’t go home?” She sounded outraged, but he could hear the fine thread of uncertainty that wound through her voice. It betrayed her, like the shake of her hands as she handled her phone.

  She’s afraid, so how about you don’t come off as a dick this time?

  His leg ached and that brief burst of violence to put the driver out of action hadn’t made it any easier, but he tried this time to get a handle on his patience. Trust was a key factor in keeping someone safe and so far he’d made a shit job of gaining hers. All he’d managed to do was enrage her and manhandle her, neither of which was likely to endear her to him.

  Then again, he wasn’t an easy guy to be around and he didn’t bother making himself likable to people, because basically he didn’t give a shit what they thought about him.

  You’re going to have to give a shit now.

  Christ, he really did. He needed her to do what she was told when he told her, without argument or resistance, and the only way to do that was to get her to trust him.

  Better make a start on being likable then, huh?

  “I need to make sure your house is secure before you go back to it,” he said, attempting to sound less grumpy as fuck. “And I’m pretty sure you won’t want to wait by yourself in the car while I go do that. Not that I’d let you anyway, but it would be cold and you’d be alone, not a good idea after that prick nearly got to you.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror again. “Thought you’d prefer to be somewhere comfortable and warm, and where you can get some sleep.”

  Her eyes were very dark in her pale face and there were shadows under her eyes. She looked swamped in his leather jacket, a little girl wearing her daddy’s clothes. Fragile, vulnerable . . .

  That protectiveness gripped him by the throat, bringing with it a memory from long ago, but he shoved it away before it could settle. Remembering Afghanistan was bad enough, he didn’t need shit from his childhood getting in the way too.

  “Oh.” She glanced away. “Uh, yes. That does sound better than waiting in the car.” There was a subdued note in her voice, and even though he hadn’t much liked her being pissy and not listening to him, he wasn’t sure that he liked her subdued any better.

  Fear wasn’t a bad thing—it kept you safe after all—but there was something about the expression in Callie’s pale, delicate face that tightened the protectiveness already strangling him.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, and though he’d already said it, he thought it was worth repeating. “You’re safe with me, Princess, I promise you.”

  Her jaw jutted at that, a spark glowing in the darkened blue of her eyes. “You’d be a pretty useless bodyguard if I wasn’t,” she snapped. “And don’t call me Princess, Jack-Hole.”

  Interesting. She’d snapped at him back at the club when he’d asked her if she was afraid and she was doing the same thing now. But that fear was still there, he could see the gleam of it under the façade of her annoyance.

  “I’m not going to tell your father where you were,” he said, ignoring her claws, watching that gleam. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Something flashed over her face and she looked hurriedly away from him, as if embarrassed. But he saw it anyway and knew what it was: relief.

  Of course he should tell her father since that was part of his job, but having seen her fear and now, glimpsing her relief . . . Yeah, there had been something about it that made him think there was more to it than simply her being afraid of getting caught doing something naughty. That it went deeper than that.

  You need to find out what the issue is.

  Yeah. He did.

  “As for the ‘Princess,’” he went on more mildly, “I’ll call you whatever the fuck I like. Especially since I’m the one who’s supposed to throw myself in between you and a bullet. So. Tell me which hotel you want or I’ll take us to the nearest Motel Six.”

  Her mouth hardened, but when she answered this time, she at least didn’t snap. “Four Seasons. Naturally.”

  Naturally.

  Jack snorted as he reprogrammed the GPS, then while he waited at the next red light, he sent a text to the head of the senator’s security team, informing them of his decision not to take Callie back to her town house. He’d already notified them of the attempt on her life and now received an almost instant reply approving his decision and letting him know that a room at the Four Seasons would be organized immediately for them.

  He kept an eye out for the rest of the drive, checking for any tails, but they arrived at the hotel without incident. Jack tossed the keys to the valet; then, as a couple of doormen rushed to open Callie’s door, he glared at them until they fell back.

  No one was getting near her, at least no one he hadn’t vetted personally.

  Pulling the door open, he stood there waiting as she got out of the car. “Your father’s security team has organized a room for us,” he told her as she straightened, clutching his jacket as it threatened to slip from her narrow shoulders. “All we have to do is check in.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, we.” He shut the door, staring at her, letting her know that he wasn’t going to be moved on this. “I’m in your room with you. No arguments.”

  Her mouth opened and then closed, her lips compressing. Then she tossed her head and brushed past him, heading toward the front doors of the hotel, leaving him to follow along in her wake as she was surrounded by a flurry of eager hotel staff.

  Good girl. At least she’d accepted that arguing with him was pointless. Though why she’d expect him to get a separate room after that was anyone’s guess. Maybe she wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe she was still in shock.

  Jack stalked after her, keeping an eye on the hotel staff, glaring at anyone who got too close as she checked in. Then as the swipe card to their hotel room—or rather suite—was handed to her, he calmly took it from the receptionist’s hand instead and, ignoring Callie’s squawk of protest, ushered her in the direction of the elevators.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, having to trot along beside him to keep up. “That’s my key.”

  He hit the elevator button. “I need to check the room first before you enter it.”

  “Seriously? It’s the Four Seasons. There’s not going to be assassins lurking behind the furniture, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Like there weren’t going to be assassins replacing your driver?”

  She didn’t say anything to that, but then he didn’t expect her to. She was simply arguing for the sake of it now and they both knew it.

  The elevator pinged and the doors opened.

  Jack put his hand out to hold them open and gestured for her to go in.

  She was pink with outrage, which he found he preferred oddly enough, since it was better than her being pale with fear, but she said nothing as she lifted her chin and stepped into the elevator car.

  Yeah, she was acting like a real little princess all right.

  “Arguing with me about pointless things such as ro
om keys is stupid.” He stepped in with her and let the door slide shut, then hit the button for their floor. “Arguing with me about any decision I make is stupid. Especially when all my decisions are based on saving your life.”

  Callie wouldn’t look at him, staring stonily ahead at the closed doors, and there was a part of him that wanted to reach out and grab that stubborn little chin, turn her to face him so he could meet her sea-blue eyes. So he could make sure she understood what he was trying to say. Because this was important. Sure, she’d had a shock tonight and she was probably still processing it, but shit, her life was at stake, didn’t she know that?

  “Princess,” he growled. “Do you understand?”

  She didn’t move and didn’t speak, her jaw getting tighter by the second.

  Fuck that shit. He was tired and his hip hurt and he’d spent all goddamn day chasing after her. And he wanted to protect her, but she was making it so fucking difficult, and he didn’t know why.

  So he reached out and grabbed that stubborn chin between his fingers, even though he knew it was probably a stupid idea, and gently but firmly he turned her head to face him.

  She stiffened, her blue eyes flaring with outrage, and she tried to pull away, but he only firmed his grip on her, holding her in place with the sheer force of his gaze. “I need to know you understand,” he insisted. “This shit’s important. Especially after what happened in the car.”

  Beneath the defiance and the anger that glittered in her eyes, something else gleamed. And he had a horrible feeling he knew what it was.

  Oh Christ. It better not be.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “I understand. Now take your fucking hands off me.”

  Her skin was warm beneath his fingertips and very silky, and the part of him that had wanted to grab her in the first place now didn’t want to let her go. And that gleam in her eyes was hot, like she didn’t actually want him to let her go either.