Singe (Guardian Protection Book 1)

by Aly Martinez

  Stopping in front of me, he extended a hand my way. “Devon Grant.”

  I took his hand in a firm shake. “Jude Levitt.”

  One side of his mouth lifted into a cocky grin. “So I’ve heard. Leo briefed us yesterday.”

  I made a mental note to renegotiate my salary sooner rather than later.

  Scanning the nearly full garage, I noted I couldn’t possibly be the only one who liked to be punctual. “Sorry, but I’ll probably always be early.”

  He shrugged and turned toward the elevator. “Smart man. Johnson’s gonna shit though. He almost never gets breakfast, and now, with you here, that almost never will become just plain never.”

  I fell into stride behind him. “Breakfast?”

  He stopped at the elevator and pulled a card from his wallet before flashing it in front of a square sensor located where the up button would normally be. The door immediately slid open, and we both stepped inside.

  “Yeah. Leo’s wife makes breakfast on Mondays for our weekly briefing,” he answered. “We have muffins and bagels delivered for our Friday team meetings. Tuesday through Thursday, you’re on your own.”

  I leaned against the back wall of the elevator as it began its ascent to the fourth floor. “I already ate,” I said, tugging on the red tie attempting to strangle me.

  Devon’s dark-brown gaze flashed to mine, a humor-filled grin pulling at his lips. “You can lose the tie. We’re pretty casual around here as long as we aren’t on duty. And, even then, I don’t think I’ve seen but one of the guys wear a tie. And it was a bow tie, so I’m pretty fucking sure that that travesty of fabric doesn’t count.”

  “Good to know,” I mumbled.

  The door opened and I followed Devon out into an open breezeway. The cool wind whipped past us, rendering the fifty-dollar product the chick at the salon had to talked me into buying and the twenty minutes I’d spent trying to make my chin-length, sandy-brown hair appear professional useless. I did my best to tuck it behind my ears as he led me toward the only door in the breezeway.

  “Leo will issue you your own security card. There’s an intercom at the elevator and the front door if you ever forget it though.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Word of advice. Don’t fucking forget it. Chances are whoever is in the security room will leave you hanging as entertainment. And the colder it is or the harder it’s snowing, the longer you’ll wait.” He once again waved his card in front of a sensor beside the door and then pushed it open.

  As the scent of vanilla and bacon rushed out, Devon growled his approval and walked inside, holding the door wide for me to enter behind him.

  Inside, I got my first glance of Guardian Protection Agency. It was a far cry from the sterile business environment of my last job. Actually, it didn’t look like an office at all. Dark hardwood floors covered the expansive area. No walls divided the rooms, but overstuffed leather couches, complete with matching leather ottomans and a big screen TV, had been arranged to section off a living room. Behind it, a long, rectangular table surrounded by at least twelve chairs served to create a dining room. And, on the far right, an island with a black marble countertop and six barstools separated the dining room from the kitchen. But not just a regular kitchen you would expect to find in an office break room. I was no chef, but it didn’t take an expert to recognize that the stainless-steel appliances were all top of the line.

  “Shut the door. You’re letting out the warm—” a woman started only to stop when her eyes landed on me. A huge smile broke across her face. “You must be Jude,” she said, tugging a baby-blue apron that matched her eyes over her head. She smoothed down her long, blond hair and her fitted, black dress while heading in my direction. “I’m Sarah James. Leo’s wife.”

  “Jude Levitt. Nice to meet you.” I took her hand, and her returned shake was surprisingly firm.

  “Christ, you’re a tall one,” she stated.

  She was pretty damn tall herself, but at six-five, I towered over her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

  Devon coughed loudly to cover an unmistakable laugh.

  “Ma’am?” she questioned in horror.

  I quickly amended. “I mean…yeah.”

  She shot me a blinding, white smile and patted me on the chest. “Better.” Spinning on a toe, she headed back to the kitchen. “Let me tell the rest of the guys breakfast is ready and I’ll get you some coffee.” Then she turned around and yelled to an empty room, “Breakfast is ready!”

  As if she’d rung the cowbell at feeding time, men began flooding in. Some offered me chin lifts, others gave me a pat on the back, and a few grunted, “What’s up?” as they passed. It seemed a table full of food was more interesting than the new guy.

  Devon shoved me on the shoulder when I didn’t fall in line behind the rest of the men. “Come on. Grab a plate. And drop the ma’am shit. Take it from me: Her biscuits and gravy are hell to eat off the floor.”

  I chuckled and, out of habit, rubbed my hand under my hair and over the scars on the back of my head. “Noted.”

  “So, I hear you moved here from LA?” he asked.

  I followed him to the end of the newly formed serving line. “Yeah. I was at PPS until they closed up shop last month. Luckily, my name got passed over to Leo.”

  “No luck involved. Word is you’re good.”

  I shrugged.

  With a past like mine, I’d learned to follow protocol to a T. I couldn’t afford to have any more fuck-ups haunting me. I was barely surviving with the one I had.

  So, damn right I was good. However, so was Leo James. His agency was known throughout the country for his team of misfits and his unconventional take on personal security—which basically meant he got shit done for his clients and wasn’t above turning a blind eye to how it happened as long as, at the end, it was done. In my research, I’d found that turnover was virtually nonexistent for Leo, and clients eagerly sat on waitlists for over a year in order to work with his firm. It’d been a miracle I’d gotten the job at all.

  When Patterson’s Personal Security shut down, it left over fifty of California’s best scrambling for a position. Despite the fact that I’d been highly successful in my three-plus years working in personal security, I hadn’t figured I’d had a shot in hell at Guardian Protection’s only opening. Yet I’d been hired without so much as an interview. One day, I had been unemployed; the next, a new-hire packet had landed in my mailbox.

  Needless to say, I’d taken the job.

  “Word is right,” I confirmed.

  He nodded, picking up two floral plates and then passing one my way. “You’ll love it here. Leo’s good people. Though I should warn you. The bullshit here isn’t much better than the bullshit out in LA.”

  “Were you out there too?” I asked curiously.

  The flinch was almost imperceptible, but he wasn’t quick enough to hide it. “Yeah. Just some private security. No one special. Anyway…where are you living?”

  No one special my ass. As much as I wanted to press, I didn’t need anyone returning the favor and prying into my past.

  I shuffled forward with the line. “Currently? A hotel.”

  He sucked in a low whistle. “That’s gotta suck. Let me know if you need help finding a place. I’d be happy to ask around for you.”

  “That’d be great. I’m paying a small fortune to keep my shit in a storage unit.”

  He chuckled. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna be paying a small fortune to keep your shit in your apartment when you get a place here.”

  I sighed. From what I’d seen on the market so far, he was not wrong.

  “You got a family?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Divorced.”

  “Ouch. Well, a one-bedroom shouldn’t be too bad.”

  “Two bedrooms,” I corrected.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Kids?”

  How did I answer that? April and I had never had any kids. Thank the Lord for that miracle, considering she’d s
tarted trying without my knowledge before we had even gotten married. But I’d Jerry McGuire’d that woman so fucking hard. She’d had an eight-year-old when we first met, and truth be told, I fell in love with that little girl long before I did her mother. Despite the fact that we only stayed married for two years, Valerie was very much mine.

  “Something like that,” I mumbled evasively.

  “Gotcha,” Devon whispered, taking the hint and turning around to end the inquisition.

  When we reached the food, I took just enough not to seem rude and then made my way over to the seats, where Sarah had placed two cups of coffee. Devon settled beside me with a plate tall enough to rival Everest.

  A loud wolf whistle sounded at the front of the room as Leo appeared, his arms filled with folders.

  “Where the fuck is Johnson?” he boomed, shaking his head and dropping the stack of files on the end of the table. “Can someone give him a call and tell him to get his ass in here? I don’t have all day.” It was an order, but not a single person reached for their phone.

  The new-hire packet had had a list of at least thirty numbers with specific instructions to program them into my phone. Aidan Johnson was one I remembered.

  After bringing up my contacts, I pressed send and then called out, “On it.”

  Swear to God I heard a round of forks hitting their plates and all eyes turned to me.

  “You must be Levitt.” Leo grinned and crossed his thick arms over his chest.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, rising to my full height, my phone still held to my ear.

  “Nice to finally meet you, son. Patterson had great things to say about you.”

  The drone of an unanswered phone rang in my ear. “Thank you. I’m excited to be here.”

  His grin faded as the ringing was no longer only in my ear, but rather, behind me.

  Like right fucking behind me.

  I didn’t have time to react before my phone was snatched from my hand. I spun, coming face-to-face with a man who looked like he belonged on the inside of a jail cell more than he did leisurely standing in Guardian Protection. His eyes were so dark that I couldn’t see the pupils, and thick, black gauges stretched his ears. Short, dark hair covered his inked skull, those same tattoos running down the left side of his neck, into his collar, and out the sleeve of his black T-shirt, which barely stretched over his barrel chest. The ogre didn’t have me in height, but I didn’t have to look down to know he outweighed me.

  If Devon was the typical bodyguard, this guy would have been the black sheep never allowed to leave the security room.

  But there he stood, inches from my face, waves of pissed-off energy radiating off him.

  “Johnson, I assume,” I stated.

  He didn’t move.

  I blankly stared at him. “So this is how we’re gonna play it today?”

  “Who’s playing, Goldilocks?”

  I kept my expression tight. “Right. Because of the hair. Fucking ingenious.”

  He shrugged, and his lips split in a cocky grin. “Sit the fuck down.”

  “Give me my phone,” I demanded.

  He inched closer until our chests bumped. “Sit. The. Fuck. Down.”

  “Give. Me. My. Fucking. Phone.”

  His smile fell, and he menacingly narrowed his eyes. “You’re gonna need to have this phone surgically removed from your spleen if you don’t shut the fuck up and sit down.”

  Seriously? Was this the high school cafeteria?

  I maintained my stoic expression and retorted, “I’ll take my chances.”

  He chuckled humorlessly. “See, I was starting to like you for a minute there. But, now, you’re pissin’ me off.”

  I lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Sounds like a personal problem.”

  His jaw clenched. “Right. Well, now, it’s your problem too,” he said seconds before lifting his hand to the side and dropping my phone into my coffee cup.

  And there was my answer: Yes. Yes, we were in fucking high school.

  “Jesus Christ!” Leo boomed.

  I gave Johnson no reaction. Refusing to feed the beast, I held his stare without blinking. Dealing with egotistical assholes was a large part of my job description. And, while he wasn’t a client, the moment I’d walked through those doors, I had officially been on the clock. It was an inconvenient and completely unfortunate fact, considering that my fists ached to wipe the smug grin off his face as he sauntered away.

  Closing my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath. Ten minutes in and I was already regretting my decision to blindly accept the job. It was bad enough I was homeless, missing Valerie, and running on a week’s worth of nightmare-induced sleepless nights. Now, I had to deal with this bullshit too?

  I opened my eyes when Leo called out to no one in particular, “Can someone get Jude a company phone?” He then stabbed a finger at Johnson. “That shit’s coming out of your check.”

  Johnson shrugged, not giving the first damn.

  “Right… I probably should have mentioned in the welcome packet that Johnson’s a dick before noon,” Leo muttered.

  Sitting back down, I mumbled, “Yeah. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Before noon?” Devon called. “Don’t lie to the man! He’s always a dick.”

  The room erupted into laughter.

  Johnson’s eyebrows shot up as he grabbed his crotch. “I got one you can suck, Devon.”

  Devon leaned back in his chair and casually crossed his legs ankle to knee. “I find myself in need of a toothpick, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Oh God, Aidan,” Sarah groaned. “I’m standing right here.”

  “Sorry, babe,” Johnson said, giving her hip a squeeze before moving to the nearly empty buffet to make a plate.

  Leo shook his head and ran an exasperated hand through his thick, black hair. “Everyone got that shit out of their system? We gonna pretend to be grown-ass men now so I can get started?”

  Johnson sauntered over behind me, used his fork to stab a piece of bacon off my plate, and then propped himself on a shoulder next to the window. “By all means, boss man. Get to it.”

  Leo pinned him with a pointed scowl. “As I was saying.” He dropped his gaze to me. “Welcome to Guardian Protection, Jude.”

  I. Was. Back.

  I’d written nearly thirty thousand words in the last four days. It wasn’t exactly a record for me. I’d once written an entire eighty-thousand-word book in four days. I also hadn’t slept, eaten, or showered, but as far as I was concerned, it was a small price to pay for typing The End.

  However, these recent words were more cherished than most. Because they came after an eight-week dry spell. For some, a few weeks off after finishing a book was considered a well-deserved break.

  But writing was my job.

  How I earned my money.

  How I kept my sanity.

  Coincidentally, it was also what drove me insane. But that’s neither here nor there.

  Writing was who I was.

  And, for anyone, losing such a huge piece of themselves would be staggering.

  For me, it was agony.

  It gave me time to think.

  About the future.

  And worse—the past.

  But, thanks to Margaret’s latest stunt, I’d found myself again. It was worth every single penny of the ten grand I’d sent her on Tuesday.

  It was now Friday—the one day a week when I dropped everything and carved out much-needed time for myself. I would force myself to do my hair, put on makeup, pants without an elastic waistband, and a pair of kickass heels, and get the hell out of my apartment. And, this morning, I’d done just that. Well, minus the hair, as I’d scheduled an appointment for later that afternoon.

  I was standing at the elevator, juggling a mile-high pile of breakfast pastries, bagels, and several vats of cream cheese when the door to the stairway slammed closed.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as his heavy footfalls approached.

  “Little help here,
” I called out.

  And then my entire body locked when a tattoo-free arm stretched toward me. It was only the briefest of seconds before I recognized his voice. But it was more than enough time for my heart to lurch into my throat and all the blood to drain from my face.

  “Shit. Are you okay?” Devon asked, taking the boxes from my hands.

  I mentally chastised my overactive imagination and did my best to get myself back together. “Yeah. I’m good.” I added a laugh to really sell it.

  He eyed me warily for a moment but then let it go. “Why don’t you have this shit delivered to us instead of carrying it down from your apartment?”

  I pasted on a snarky smile. “Because then everyone would stop asking me that question. I’ve grown quite fond of it over the last two years.”

  Yes, I could have had breakfast delivered to the door of Guardian Protection. It wasn’t like the bakery would charge me an extra delivery fee for going one floor up. But, if I did that, I wouldn’t have gotten to spend the morning bullshitting with my guys before they had to head out on their assignments.

  Writing was a solitary career, but with Guardian so close, I’d never felt alone. Leo and the entire Guardian crew had adopted me the day Johnson had first escorted me through the front doors.

  They’d never looked back.

  And neither had I.

  I dug my access card from my back pocket and waved it in front of the elevator sensor. “Where’s Johnson?”

  Devon looked down at me and grinned. “He got busy, so he sent me to help your stubborn ass bring up breakfast.”

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  His teasing grin warmed reassuringly. “Your little boyfriend’s fine. We’ve got a new guy and he and Leo were prepping him for his first assignment.”

  I nodded, unconvinced. Aidan Johnson was never too busy for me—even when he was.

  I tapped the toe of my red-soled pump against Devon’s dress shoe. “You might not want to let him hear you calling him my little boyfriend.”

  When the elevator arrived, I took a step inside, holding my arm in the door so it wouldn’t shut.

  “But thanks for helping,” I said. “There’s a special chocolate croissant in it for you.”