Deliberate Deceptions: Hauberk Protection, Book 3

by Leah Braemel

  Chad suppressed his smile. Did he know Sam or what?

  “I would have staged a fuckin’ intervention or whatever the fuck they’re called,” Sam continued. “I fuckin’ well wouldn’t have locked you in with the ice queen and hope a little global warming set in.”

  “You used to like her. She’s the one who…” Encouraged Sam to date Jill. Ah. Strange how time and distance sometimes made things so much clearer. “She and Jill had been good friends, Sam. She was upset when she said what she did. Losing Jill right after...”—Emily— “She was confused. Upset.”

  “She was a self-centered bitch.” A feminine gasp from off-screen told him Rosie was listening.

  He lined up the pen with the mouse pad. “She needed me and I wasn’t there for her. Not really. You were…collateral damage.”

  “She wasn’t there when you needed her either, damn it. You need to get your head out of your ass and see she’s not good for you. Sure, she was a good fuck, but there are lots of women who would do you in a heartbeat.”

  “Sam!” Rosie appeared on the screen. She hooked an arm around Sam’s neck and settled in his lap. The sappy look on Sam’s face should have been amusing, instead, he was jealous. “Chad, do you still love her?”

  Behind her, Sam snorted and shook his head in disgust. “You see him dating anyone else lately, Rosebud? Nearly ten fuckin’ years he’s gone on a handful of dates with women I’ve set him up with. I doubt he’s gone through a box of condoms that whole fuckin’ time.”

  Rosie placed a finger over Sam’s lips and ssshed him before facing the webcam again. “Chad? You need to get things straight with her. Talk to her. Listen to her.” She flattened her fingers over her heart. “Listen to what your heart is telling you. Because it sounds like you still care for her.”

  Behind her, Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, fuck her and get her out of your system. Then dump her on her ass out the front gates.”

  That pearl of wisdom earned Sam a slap on his hand. Damn, Sam was lucky to have convinced Rosie to come back to D.C., to agree to date him again. Just how much groveling Sam had done in New York, neither of them would say.

  That’s how things should have happened with him and Lauren, yet it hadn’t. Which was his own damned fault. Lauren had probably expected him to fly after her and beg her to come back, the way Sam had flown after Rosie. Instead he’d let Lauren go.

  “Thanks Sam. I’ll phone you when I get back into D.C.” Chad clicked the mouse on the “end chat” button and the chat session disappeared from the screen.

  The conversation replayed in his mind as he closed up his computer. Fuck her and get her out of your system. Didn’t Sam realize Lauren was his drug of choice? That if he fucked her again, the way he’d came too damned close to doing last night, he’d never get her out of his system?

  Talk to her, Rosie had said. Listen to her. Right. Well, Lauren sure had some talking to do. About who Weir was and who she worked for. He just had to decide whether she’d be talking to him or to Troy for that conversation.

  A quick check of her room showed Lauren hadn’t returned. The closed circuit cameras revealed her location—she’d gone jogging and was a third the way out to the far end of the property. He could wait until she passed by the house and catch her then.

  Ah, hell, he needed to jog this morning anyway. He lost seven minutes dashing back up to his room and changing into his sweats. By the time he met Troy halfway out, he’d warmed up nicely. Both his muscles and his irritation.

  Troy slowed as he approached Chad. “If you’re looking for Lauren, she’s up the hill.”

  Once again he debated turning around and waiting for her to return to the house but decided against it. If it ended up with her screaming at him again, he’d rather do it where no one could hear. He found her pounding hell bent for leather down the path.

  “Lauren.”

  She glanced over her shoulder but kept running. “Leave me alone right now, Chad. I’m not very good company.”

  His step hesitated as he almost did turn around. No, if someone was trying to discredit Hauberk through her, he owed it to Sam—and Troy—to find out just what the hell was going on.

  “Lauren, slow down, damn it.”

  She didn’t.

  He sprinted, thinking he was fresher and could take advantage of her exhaustion. Considering she’d probably run close to five kilometers already, it still took a concerted effort to catch up. “You’re worn out and if you keep this up, you’re going to trip over a root and twist your ankle.” Not to mention he needed to talk to her face-to-face instead of to her ass, as nice a view as that was.

  With a huff of exasperation, most likely more at herself than at him, Lauren slowed down and a few hundred yards up stopped entirely. Breathing hard, she braced her hands on her knees.

  “Just leave me alone for a while. Please.”

  “That’s not what you were begging me to do last night. Or have you forgotten how you got on your knees and sucked my dick?” Fuck. That was a stupid—

  Before he could finish the thought, Lauren did a neat sweep with her foot he wasn’t expecting and he found himself flat on his back, the breath driven from him. He rolled to a stand and watched her disappear down the trail.

  So she wanted to play it that way, did she? Game on.

  They ran half the trail dodging and evading each other’s attacks. At some point, he couldn’t figure out when, his anger morphed to arousal. He found himself admiring that she’d run more than twice as far as he had yet showed no signs of tiring; he also found himself admiring the swing of her hips as she ran in front of him, the bounce of her breasts when they wrestled. Until they reached the steep hill and she stumbled over a protruding root as he’d predicted would happen. Launching himself at her, Chad trapped her by using his full weight on top of her.

  She fought him for a moment, attempting to buck him off, then relaxed. Chuckling, she reached up and skimmed a finger down his jaw. “You still get turned on by the chase, don’t you?”

  Considering the erection jabbing into her belly he could hardly deny it.

  “Never could understand guys who liked submissive women.” He ground his cock against her mound then, with a sigh, sat back on his heels but stayed straddling her. “You realize my guys are probably watching on the monitors.”

  “They even have cameras out here?”

  He tipped his head toward the gazebo further down the path. “There are a couple mounted down there. They’re motion activated and we’re within range.”

  “Shit.” She shoved him off and scrambled to her feet. “What did you want that you had to chase me for this far?”

  He opened his mouth to say “I’m leaving” but the words wouldn’t come. The sensual side she’d shown him yesterday, the I want you. I’ve only ever wanted you hunger in her eyes had returned.

  “Yesterday you said we needed to talk. I told you we’d talk this morning.” Talk? He wanted to bend her over the trunk of that fallen tree and fuck her from behind. He took a deep breath and centered himself. “I told you not to leave your room without me, or are you incapable of following orders?”

  She straightened, holding her chin high. “I brought my gun and one of your guards. It was only a matter of time before I returned.” Her eyes narrowed. “Besides, Hauberk guaranteed this as a safe house and their employees as well-trained professionals. Are you telling me this place isn’t secure?”

  “We can’t—oh, for Christ’s sakes, just come with me.” Chad stalked down the path toward the pond, wondering if she would indeed follow him. He made it almost to the gazebo before he chanced a glance back and realize she still stood there, her shoulders slumped. “Don’t play any more games with me, Lauren.”

  “I wasn’t playing a—” Her voice fractured and she cleared her throat. If it were anyone else, he’d think she was fighting tears, but her eyes were dry.

  “You were sleeping when I checked on you this morning,” she continued, her voice firm once again. “I kn
ow you were up late last night so I didn’t want to disturb you.” When he didn’t say anything, she explained, “I saw the light under your door, that’s how I know you were up until at least four this morning.”

  Which meant she’d been awake too. Plotting a sob story? No, that wasn’t Lauren’s style. There were circles beneath her eyes he realized as he took a closer look, lending her an air of fragility that belied her defiance. He reminded himself all wasn’t what it appeared. “I’ve got some questions for you.”

  She opened her mouth as if to snap something in return but instead she simply sighed. “Fine.”

  Fine. Now there was a landmine of a word.

  His hand firm on her elbow, he followed her up the wooden steps leading to the gazebo overlooking the pond and the rest of the valley. He steered her to the canopied sofa where she sank onto the cushions with a soul deep sigh.

  She’d run hard, worked up a sweat so her T-shirt clung to her curves, making him acutely aware of the hard nipples jutting from the fabric. Except for the Sig Sauer in its holster, she was the ultimate picture of femininity and composure, her feet neatly crossed at the ankles, her hands clasped on her lap. Concentrate on the mission, damn it.

  Instead of folding his arms the way he wanted to, he let them hang loose and leaned against the center post in an attempt to appear relaxed. “I want to talk about why you’re here.”

  “Okay.”

  “You work for a private investigation firm called Light Brigade Investigations, Inc.”

  Her gaze met his for just a second before it flitted away to focus on something on the other side of the pond. “Yes.”

  “They sent you to South Africa to determine if a mole in Edward Weir’s mining company was selling corporate secrets.”

  “Yes.” If he hadn’t been watching her carefully, he may not have noticed her fingernails dig into the skin of her knuckles. Or the almost imperceptible tightening of her shoulders.

  She’d just lied. Why?

  “And you uncovered someone who led you to a man named Frank Harris.”

  “Yes.”

  Chad swore under his breath. “If you keep giving me one word answers, we’ll be here all frickin’ day. Don’t you want us to catch whoever it is who has forced you to hide?” Tell me why you’re really here.

  He continued questioning until he’d verified her story corroborated with Weir’s. Which of course it did, damn it. The silence between them hung heavy, as if someone had hung a blanket between them. It wasn’t that he didn’t have questions for her. The big one, the Why are you lying? one got shoved aside by the others crowding his mind. Where have you been? Why didn’t you call me, tell me where you were going when you moved from London? Or Paris?

  A damned email might have been nice. A text message. Something. Anything to let me know you were all right.

  Did you know I still dream about you? About us? He heaved in a breath and found himself staring at a spot across the lake, absently wondering if they were staring at the same tree. Damn it, this was the reason why ex-husbands should never be assigned to guard their ex-wives.

  Focus on your mission. Which was…what? Was she in danger? Or was this some sort of setup to discredit Hauberk?

  He lost track of the time they’d been there when she suddenly spoke, startling him. “I suppose you guessed I haven’t been living in London for a while now.”

  “Yes.” Any of his attempts to contact her had gone unanswered so he’d used his Hauberk resources to track her. “You ran the security for a fancy spa, Tranquil Pastures or something, for six months in Kent, then quit and moved to Brussels. Six months after that you moved to Paris where you were hired to guard the wife and children of a Saudi Arabian family.”

  Her gaze darted back to him before returning to the pond. “You’ve got good sources.”

  Not good enough. From there, she’d dropped from his radar. “And now you work out of your company’s offices in Rome.”

  “Yes.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the stop of the stairs, blocking the exit. “Did you know there’s no record of an Edward Weir owning any mine, diamond, gold or otherwise, in South Africa? Or anywhere in Africa, Australia, Canada or the States?”

  “He’s not the only owner, so the mine isn’t in his name. It’s registered to a numbered off-shore corporation.” She finally looked at him, her mask of composure firmly in place.

  “Did you also know that there’s no record of him coming into the country in the past six months? Oh, there were several Edward Weirs but none fitting your boss’s description.”

  Once again that spot across the pond got her undivided attention. “Maybe you aren’t looking in the right places.”

  Why was every nerve ending twitching? Oh, yeah, because she was lying.

  “I’ve spoken with Sam, Lauren. Yesterday morning he got a call from someone at the Post telling him about a spread they’d be running about me, about…back then. Sort of a ‘where are they now and how did they change American history’ type story. Ten minutes later Weir phoned Sam. Told him he’d be coming into the office, laid out what he needed. Not once did he mention you by name. But he knew we’d been married, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.” He could hardly hear her whisper above the wind in the trees.

  “They went through the various operatives Sam thought could run the operation and Weir found fault with every single operative. Except me.”

  “Because you are the best. Because you’re the only one I trust.”

  He dismissed that as flattery. Or prevarication. She hadn’t trusted him all those years before. “You know it’s never SOP to assign an ex-spouse as a bodyguard. There’s too much baggage attached.” The truckloads they had between them could fill Chesapeake Bay. “So, what’s the story? Is there someone after you? Or is this some elaborate scheme to discredit Hauberk?”

  “There really is a threat.” This time she looked at him, her hands were still together in her lap, but her fingernails no longer scored the skin. Her expression was composed if rather sad, not tense. Her shoulders slumped, and a hint of vulnerability pierced her armor. “LBI caters to very rich clients who need discreet investigations—blackmail, that type of thing. I’d investigated this scumbag who was blackmailing a certain high profile movie star. Part of the fallout of it was the scumbag’s wife divorced him. I had taken some incriminating pictures of him as part of my investigation and so I was called to testify against him at his wife’s petition for full custody. Which she got based mainly on my testimony. Next thing we knew he’d hired Harris.”

  When he’d first met her, she’d been quick with a retort, her eyes sparkling, her mouth pulling up at the ends in the most provocative grin he’d ever seen. They’d laughed at lot in those early years. Before. Even in their more serious moments, they were in tune—finishing each other’s sentences, knowing when the other needed a touch, gentle or not, to ground them. For a while there, things had been so good between them he’d have taken a bet that their marriage could have survived anything.

  What he’d give to see her smile. Just once. The way she had…before. The memory of finding her on her knees, sobbing, clutching Emily’s lifeless body. Of the tears streaming down her face at the funeral. Tears that dried up and never reappeared. She’d held herself in ruthless control after that. She’d closed herself off from him and everyone.

  He shook his head and forced himself to focus on his objective. Damn it, why the hell was he still so attracted to her? Concentrate on the mission. Stop letting her distract you. This was the very reason he shouldn’t have been put in charge of the op. “So, who’s Weir?”

  “Ed’s my partner. Or, he was my partner. I’ve told my boss that once this is settled, I’m quitting.”

  “Why come to Hauberk? Couldn’t your own people protect you?”

  “LBI’s a small company. We don’t have the type of safe houses Hauberk does, or the manpower to protect me. Harris is…dangerous.”

  “So you
manipulated Sam and me until I was assigned as your lead op.”

  She nodded.

  “So there’s no story in the Post this weekend? You had someone call it in to convince Sam to assign me to your case?”

  “No, there really a story. Ed’s sister works for the Post so we knew they were working on it.”

  Shit. He grabbed the pine railing and stared over the lake. “Why me, Lauren? Why seek me out after all these years?”

  “Because you’re not the type of man to walk away from an assignment. Because I trust you.”

  From the location of her voice, she’d moved. Was coming closer.

  His shoulders stiffened as if he were expecting her to plunge yet another metaphorical knife between them. “You didn’t trust me when we were married. Why in hell would you trust me now?”

  The footsteps stopped. “I trusted you! I’ve always trusted you.”

  He snorted. “You trusted me not to follow you to England.”

  She’d been right. He’d let her walk away. Until yesterday he’d questioned that decision every day. Now, with her here, he wasn’t sure that perhaps it hadn’t been the best decision he’d ever made. The ability to live with the hole she’d left had been torn from him and when this was over, he’d have to rebuild everything all over again.

  “I didn’t leave you because I didn’t trust you. I left because I trusted the wrong person’s advice. I made a bad decision, Chad. Haven’t you ever made a decision you regretted later?”

  Instead of feeling the satisfaction, the relief he’d expected, anger surged inside him, a low burn that boiled over. “It’s taken you nearly ten years—ten fucking years—to find me to tell me that? You threw everything we had together away, Lauren. I gave you my word that I would be there for you. I stood up in front of a judge and promised to love, honor and cherish you, no matter what. So did you.”

  “I know. I should have stayed.” Her quiet answer slipped into his brain, into his heart, a soothing balm tipped with barbs. “I was mixed up; I wasn’t thinking clearly. By the time I realized it, I thought you’d moved on.”