Thrive (Guardian Protection)

by Aly Martinez

  He winked, his long, black lashes giving quite the show. “My pleasure. Let me know if this asshole gives you any trouble.”

  I giggled softly and nodded. On my way to Jeremy, I paused beside Caleb, my smile falling as I asked, “Any word on Whitney?”

  He gave my arm a squeeze. “Not yet. But we’re working on it. I promise.”

  I forced a sad smile, bile burning the back of my throat. “Thanks.”

  His mouth tipped up in a sexy smirk, which more than explained how he’d gotten that gold wedding band on his ring finger. “No problem, sweetheart.”

  With one last glance and nod to both of the men, I stopped in front of Jeremy, unsure of how close I could get without Mr. Hyde making another appearance for the day.

  Out on the street, he’d held me in his arms long after the police had arrived. And, when they’d driven us back to the Guardian office, he’d slid in beside me, tight so our sides were flush, and slung his arm around my shoulders. I’d welcomed the comfort, relishing in the way my heart had slowed as the blanket of his warmth enveloped me. He’d released me the minute we got inside, and he’d stayed out of reach since.

  Until now.

  Sweeping a hand toward the door, he placed the other on my lower back and gave me a gentle push to get my feet moving.

  My heart skipped at the contact, and I arched into his touch, the heat from his fingertips branding me through my T-shirt. I swallowed hard, doing my best not to read into it as he guided me through the vast office, his chest brushing against my back with every turn. As we exited the front door, the cool night air whipped around us and an unexplainable shiver traveled down my spine.

  But it wasn’t a good shiver, and it immediately set me on edge.

  I was with Jeremy after what had felt like a million years, but as we waited for the elevator, the most familiar sensation of dread ignited inside me. I was no stranger to anxiety, and after the day I’d had, the only surprise should have been that it had taken so long to catch up to me.

  In an effort to distract myself, I went for small talk. “So…how’s your shoulder?”

  “Fine.”

  Chewing on my bottom lip, I asked, “So…Detective Jones seems nice. Have you two known each other long?” I jumped when the ding of the elevator announced its arrival.

  “Mmmhmm,” he replied, using his hand on my back to guide me inside.

  Two steps over that threshold and my pulse quickened and my mouth dried.

  Never leaving my side, he stabbed the button for the parking garage.

  In an attempt to cut through the nervous energy ricocheting inside me, I rocked from my heels to my toes. “How long have you—”

  He blew out a suffering sigh. “Can we cut the chitchat?”

  My body tensed. Fantastic. I was about to jump out of my skin and the asshole was back.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, barely able to keep the shake out of my voice.

  He angled his head down. “It’s fine.” The pressure of his hand on my back increased the tiniest fraction in what I assumed was supposed to be reassurance.

  It gave me none.

  Panic in the form of little pinpricks spread across my skin like a wildfire.

  “I’m getting off first. Stay close,” he ordered as the elevator came to a stop.

  “W-why?” I stammered. “Are you, like, bodyguard spidey-sensing something right now?” I shuffled over until I was plastered to his side, Mr. Hyde be damned. “Maybe we should go back up. There were some really comfy-looking couches at your office. I wouldn’t mind sleeping—Shit!” I screamed when the door cracked open, revealing the ominous shadow of a large man waiting for me on the other side.

  Spinning, I tried to escape, but I crashed into Jeremy’s chest. His thick arms protectively folded around me, and before I knew it, I was up off my feet.

  My back hit the wall, and Jeremy filled my vision, which left him completely exposed.

  “Get down!” I yelled, the idea of him getting shot more terrifying than taking the bullet myself.

  “Mira, stop,” he gritted out, resting one hand on my hip and the other on the wall beside my head to cage me in. “It’s just Braydon. He’s with us.”

  But I couldn’t stop. It could have been Santa Claus and I still wouldn’t have been able to get myself under control. That panic attack was about eighteen hours overdue.

  My shoulders shook violently as I burst into tears.

  “Jesus fuck,” he cursed.

  Embarrassment consumed me, and I buried my face in his chest so he wouldn’t see my tears. “I’m…I’m…I’m sorry,” I choked out between sobs into his shirt.

  His body shifted closer to me, his powerful thigh wedging between my legs until he had me cocooned. “Look at me,” he demanded.

  I shook my head, and like pretty much everything else I’d done that day, it seemed to piss him off.

  “Mira. Look. At. Me,” he seethed through clenched teeth.

  My frazzled mind could barely form thoughts, much less deal with his attitude. “Can you please not fucking yell at me for a minute?” I snapped at his chest. “I’m in the middle of a panic attack. I do not have it in me to argue with you right now.” My hands shook wildly as I wedged them between us and did my best to dry my eyes.

  “I’m not trying to argue with you. I’m trying to apologize.”

  My heart stopped, shock momentarily breaking through the panic.

  “F-for what?” I stuttered.

  He dropped his elbow to the elevator wall beside my head, bringing our mouths mere inches apart. “I fucked up,” he stated, his breath whispering across my lips. “This morning, rushing in without considering who was on the other side. And then tonight, letting my guard down on the sidewalk. It shouldn’t have happened.”

  Peering up at him through my lashes, I argued, “You didn’t fuck up. We’re both okay.”

  His hazel eyes flashed back and forth between mine, searching and imploring. “I did. Shit with us was personal and I…I wasn’t thinking straight. But please hear me when I say: It will not happen again, Mira. That I can swear to you. If you are with me, you are safe. No matter what.”

  My stomach dipped. He thought I was freaking out because I didn’t trust him.

  It was a little sad, a lot sweet, and pure Jeremy.

  My lungs ached for oxygen, but I couldn’t force air into them. I’d missed him so damn much. All of these little glimpses of the man I’d lost were killing me. In a way, it had been easier when I’d thought he was gone forever. But there he stood, apologizing because he’d thought saving my life twice in one day hadn’t been enough.

  I stared up at him, selfishly attempting to memorize every curve of this new, older, but no-less-gorgeous version of him. From the slight lines around his eyes to the scar just below his bottom lip, I burned them all into my memory. Soon enough, they’d be all I’d have left of him.

  Blinking back another round of tears, I whispered the absolute truth, “I trust you, Jeremy.”

  His body turned rock solid, but he didn’t back away. He just stood there.

  Staring.

  Looming.

  Shredding me.

  Unable to take his scrutinizing gaze for a second longer, I cut my eyes to the ground. “I think I’m done freaking out for the moment. However, if any large men appear out of nowhere between here and your car, I’d like to reserve the right to have a minor snit fit. And that’s not because I don’t trust you, but rather because, as you so informed, snit fits are what I do.”

  He stayed close. “What happened to you now was not a snit fit, Mira. That was fear consuming you. Fear that, I’ll repeat, you do not have to carry if I’m with you.”

  “And what about when you aren’t with me anymore?” I hadn’t intended to say those words out loud, but it felt as if they’d been poison my throat refused to swallow.

  I waited for his answer, but there was none to be had. One day, when the immediate threat was gone, we’d go our own separate
ways. I couldn’t afford to banish my fears. I’d need them to keep me alive in the not-so-distant future.

  With tight lips, he continued to stare at me until he finally let out a resigned sigh and backed away.

  And, just like that, the moment was over.

  I told myself that it was for the best. But the chill that overtook me in his absence didn’t feel like the best at all. It felt like the worst.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I straightened my T-shirt, smoothed my hair down, and lifted my gaze to the tall man standing outside the elevator.

  Jeremy waved a finger between us and introduced, “Braydon. Mira. Mira. Braydon.”

  “Hi,” I whispered, my cheeks pinking with embarrassment—and because, well, he was ridiculously good-looking.

  Dark hair, styled to be messy, brushed his forehead. He was long and lean, but defined muscles stretched the sleeves of his Guardian Protection polo shirt. One of his hands was propped on the door, preventing it from closing, the other gripping the back of his neck, apology heavy in his demeanor. “Leo sent me down to help escort you to the car. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Feeling exceptionally vulnerable, I folded my arms over my chest as if he could see the cracks in my soul. “Please. Don’t apologize because I’m a basket case.”

  He grinned, popping two mouthwatering dimples. “Basket case or not, I’m sorry.”

  Annnnd he was a nice kid. The women of Chicago were screwed. Probably both literally and figuratively.

  “Well, I appreciate that, but—”

  Jeremy cut me off. “We gonna go home or should I forward my mail to the damn elevator?”

  I rolled my eyes and pasted on a smile. “It was lovely to meet you, Braydon.”

  He moved to the side, allowing me space to exit, and replied, “You too, Mira.”

  Fluid, and with a practiced ease that was almost as captivating as it was impressive, the two men fell into place on either side of me, Jeremy one step ahead of me on my left and Braydon one step behind me on my right. They guided me through the underground parking garage and then stopped at a gunmetal-gray SUV that made my eyebrows perk.

  “You drive an Escalade?” I asked.

  “What gave it away?” Jeremy deadpanned, wrapping his hand around my bicep and then leading me to the passenger’s door. He didn’t release me until I was fully inside and he had hit the lock before shutting the door.

  Once alone, I fought the urge to dig through the center console and glove compartment to see what he had inside. The old Jeremy wouldn’t have had more than a stick of gum and a few pennies. But this guy, the one they called Lark? I was dying to figure out who he was.

  I settled for secretly glancing around as I anchored my seat belt. The floors had been vacuumed, the dash had been dusted, but an old paper coffee cup from a drive-through was crooked in the cupholder. I righted it, finding it empty, probably a leftover from that very morning.

  So…he still liked to keep his car clean, and he still drank coffee. Not exactly the bounty of information I’d been hoping for, but I supposed it was a start.

  I caught sight of the guys exchanging chin lifts, and then Jeremy opened the door and slid inside.

  I picked at invisible lint on my jeans, lamenting that I hadn’t grabbed any clothes before I’d left my apartment that morning. Though, if I was going to be wearing the same clothes for the foreseeable future, at least they were comfortable.

  As we pulled out of the parking lot, my anxiety stirred to life all over again.

  “Soo…” I drawled, crossing then recrossing my legs. He didn’t reply. So I gave it another shot. “Soooo…”

  “Spit it out, Mir,” he told the windshield.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  He slowed to a stop at a stoplight but never even glanced in my direction. “Woman, you have never in your life had nothing to say. So spit it out or stop trying to bait me.”

  I swung my head to face him. “I wasn’t trying to bait you.” I had been, but he wasn’t supposed to know that. Or, if he did know that, he wasn’t supposed to call me on it.

  He chuffed. “Right.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Do you have to be a jerk? Like, is there a quota you have to meet or something?”

  “Not being a jerk. If you got something to say, spit it out. If you want to sit there and say ‘sooooo’ until you’re blue in the face, by all means, go right ahead. Doesn’t matter one way or the other. But don’t expect me to break out a decoder and figure out what the hell you are or aren’t trying to say.”

  “See! Like that!” I exclaimed, pivoting in my seat to face him.

  He twisted his lips and furrowed his brow, or at least one side of his face did, because he still wouldn’t look at me. “Like what?” he asked.

  I drew a circle in the air, not that he could see it. “Like this. I distinctly remember you being able to carry on a conversation with complete sentences and courtesy.”

  Spoiler alert: It was the wrong thing to say.

  His head swung my way so fast that I was shocked it didn’t fly off his neck. “I’m not the man you remember! Stop fucking assuming you know me.” He slammed the heel of his hand down on the steering wheel and then turned back to look at the road, his jaw ticking in time with my heart.

  I blinked at him, reality icing my veins.

  He was right. I’d told myself that I knew he was different. But I hadn’t stopped looking, and hoping, for clues that he was still the same. Deep down, I’d still expected him to be the boy who would bicker with me for hours on end and then, one breath later, burst into laughter, wrap me in his arms, and kiss me breathless. It was one of the things I’d loved about him. I didn’t have to filter myself with him. He knew when my anxiety would get the best of me. And he knew how to put me at ease.

  But, now, I was his burden.

  He was doing me a favor—or twelve—and I was the one acting like a jerk.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  He scoffed. “You know, for someone who has repeatedly claimed that I’ve been yelling and arguing with her all day, you sure as hell seem to be giving your fair share.”

  Shit. He was right again. I turned away from him to stare out the window, repeating, “I know…and I’m sorry.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Mira. This isn’t easy on me, either. You’re not exactly the girl I used to know, either, ya know?”

  That didn’t sound like a positive thing. I swallowed hard, my nose starting to sting. “I’m sorry.”

  He sighed. “Stop fucking apologizing.”

  I knotted my hands in my lap. “I’m sorry.”

  He groaned, and out of the corner of my eyes, I saw him drop his head back against the headrest. “Jesus, if you’re just going to sit there and say sorry, I’d rather you go back to yelling.”

  I bit my lips closed to keep from apologizing again and nodded at my legs.

  We sat in silence for the rest of the drive. Every so often, I felt his gaze brush over me, but I didn’t dare look at him. I was scared of who I’d see, and not because I thought it would be the new Jeremy. I feared that it would be the old one.

  Eventually, I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and got lost in memories of truck beds, isolated woods, and country music.

  Her dark hair hung in her face, and it took every ounce of self-restraint I possessed not to tuck it behind her ear. She was asleep, her head propped on her hand against the window, her lips parted, her breaths slow and steady.

  I’d been sitting there, staring at her, for over thirty minutes. I’d thought she’d wake up when I cut the engine, but she hadn’t budged, and I didn’t have it in me to wake her. She was so damn beautiful.

  I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself, but I’d fucking missed that woman something fierce. She pissed me off to no end, but I loved every second with her. She’d always been feisty, but much like it had tonight, it came from a vulnerable place. Mira was soft at the core. She was a chameleon who could adapt to any situation. But th
e one thing you could count on was she’d always break.

  If I was being honest, those were the moments I loved most.

  Because she gave them to me. The moments when she hadn’t been able to breathe. The moments when she’d been completely overwhelmed. The moments when she’d let her walls down and allow someone to see the real woman struggling inside.

  She hadn’t chosen me when it’d mattered the most, but I knew for a fact I was the only person she’d chosen to show the real Mira York. I’d felt like the king of the world when she’d turn to me and silently ask for comfort only I could give her. I’d seen her with Kurt. She hadn’t softened for him. But, then again, he’d never handled her with care. She had been forced to wear that façade of strength twenty-four-seven, to pretend to be who she’d thought she had to be in order to make someone care about her.

  But that wasn’t who she was. Mira was the crazy woman who could fight for hours, but with one touch, she’d curl into me like she’d finally come home.

  She’d done it on the street after she’d almost been kidnapped. Long after her heart had slowed and her body had slacked, she’d clung to me as though not a minute had passed since she’d last been at my side.

  And I’d let her. For as long as I could. Because there was a huge part of me that wanted to pretend we’d never been apart, either.

  But we had. For too long.

  And I was struggling to process that she was back.

  However, she wasn’t exactly back. I had not one doubt that Mira’s stay was short. She’d take what she needed and then she’d be gone without as much as a backward glance.

  And, every time a reminder of that slapped me in the face, my anger would get the best of me. She didn’t deserve it. Mira could go toe-to-toe with the best of them, but it was wearing her down. And I hated that I was responsible for that. Kurt had been ruining her for the majority of her life. She didn’t need me to follow suit.

  I was still staring at her, drinking her in, and convincing myself not to steal a touch when she stirred.

  “Mmm,” she hummed, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Are we here?” she asked without opening her eyes.

  “Yeah, Mir. We’re here.”