Protecting the Prince (Wyn Security)

by Dana Volney

  He sat back easily on the couch, his ankle over a knee, holding his glass in one big hand while his other long, muscled arm stretched along the back of the couch. His broad shoulders made his tall frame even more impressive. His dark, thick hair spiked a couple inches and his short, black beard had a clean line below his cheekbone. His olive skin tone rounded out the picture to one sturdy, manly man.

  “Tell me about your services, Ms. Wyn. What exactly will this entail?”

  “Around-the-clock protection. I have a team. I’ll bring them in bright and early tomorrow morning and we’ll sweep your place, your office… I’d say your car, but I’m assuming that’ll be in the body shop for a while.” And accept a contract to kill you, for research purposes, of course.

  He nodded and his dark stare searched her. With his thick black eyebrows and eyelashes, his brown eyes were captivating.

  Where was she? Oh, explaining protection detail. “We’ll escort you where you need to go. That’s better anyway.” Her phone vibrated in her coat pocket—it was probably details and payday arrangements on killing the man sitting in front of her. Damn, she’d stepped in it this time. “I’ll need your schedule to check other places before you arrive.”

  He drained his glass and focused on the carpet full of rich reds, oranges, and blues. She understood. It was hard to go from being independent and doing whatever you wanted to having people constantly looking over your shoulder and second-guessing your every move.

  Maybe lightening the mood while Eliam processed his new immediate future would help.

  “You’re about to pay a lot of money so an old man can sleep at night?” she asked. Louis had a few standard guilt trip lines, and she hedged her bets on which one he’d used on Eliam.

  His head shot up and she caught the lights and darks this time in his brown eyes—eyes that gaped before quickly returning to neutral. A minute passed between them in silence. Maybe catching him off guard with that type of personal information wasn’t a good move.

  She could practically see his mind, his now very suspicious mind, at work.

  “Either you’re quite impressive at your job or you already know Louis.” He paused and smiled, revealing perfect, white teeth on top with a couple of crooked ones on the bottom. “Although I truly hope it’s both.”

  The man had charm. In spades. Especially when he added that quick and easy smile.

  “Louis and I go way back.”

  “I see.” She spotted the relief even though he tried to hide it by very brazenly checking her out from head to toe. “You’re too young to have that long of a history with him.”

  “Age isn’t measured only in years.” Age-ist. “He knows I’m good at what I do.”

  “I’m sure you are. Here’s the deal. I don’t actually want bodyguards.”

  “No shit.” She wasn’t so sure she wanted to be his bodyguard.

  “But clearly I need some sort of protection.” His jaw muscles flexed. Otherwise, he was completely still, not a major tell in sight. He was way too calm; something wasn’t right with his attitude.

  “Tell me about Franklin.” She had Louis’s opinion, now she wanted Eliam’s—and to watch his reaction.

  “Franklin?” His thumb stroked his glass, annoyance heavy in his voice.

  “Yes. Louis thought you might be in danger, and tonight’s car chase confirms his suspicions.” Clients were usually forthcoming about any and all people who could be up for wronging them, yet she was having to pull it out of Eliam. The quiet clients were the scariest.

  “He’s my stepfather. Ex-stepfather now.” A quick scowl crossed his face. “I just took over as president, a position he’s held for the last four years.”

  “Louis said he was very angry when he left the office today. We need to consider you in constant danger.”

  “Constant danger?”

  “Yes. Unless you think tonight was routine road rage?” She kept her face neutral so as not to give him a hint of how to answer. He wasn’t giving her much as it was, and she didn’t want him placating her to boot.

  “I…maybe. You know, it could be. Unprovoked, of course. Perhaps I jumped the gun calling tonight.” He moved his hand to his lap and onto his glass, twisting it back and forth. “Louis had given me your card, and I didn’t have anything to tell the police.”

  He’d obviously called her out of panic and was now settling down about the situation. Only, tonight’s events and Holland’s call were very real and not something to simply brush off.

  “You could file a report. You still should, actually.”

  “I could.” He nodded once. “Or I could hire you to find out who it was and deal with them.”

  “I don’t provide bounty hunter services. I don’t find people, and I certainly don’t deal with them.” If she didn’t already know the threat was real, she would’ve considered her late-night ride into downtown a complete waste of time. But she couldn’t leave. Not now. She’d loop Louis in, but he wasn’t equipped to deal with this. Winter and her team, however, were. Resentment over being at Eliam’s and not in her soft bed started to seep into her neck. “My team and I provide personal security.”

  “I can’t believe Franklin would actually follow through,” Eliam mumbled more to his glass of whiskey than to her.

  “He probably hired someone.” She said as she pretended not to be that person. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at herself, she met his gaze to reassure him it wasn’t her. “We always want to believe the best in people; most of the time it’s unjust placement.” His trust in her wouldn’t be wrong, though—for him to stay alive he had to believe she had only the best intentions.

  “I have seen my fair share of the human spirit. But, yes, somehow I’m still surprised.”

  Yeah, it would suck to find out someone wanted you dead and was actually trying to make that a reality.

  “Shipping company captain not all rosy?” She sat a little farther back in the chair and crossed her legs, trying to find a balance between being comfortable and being able to stand quickly—it was a damn big chair.

  “There’s a dark side.” His words brought a dimness to his face, shadowing his cheeks even more than his manicured beard. “To everything in life.”

  There was more to his statement she’d have to find out—she didn’t like surprises, but she could wait with her twenty questions until the morning. The man had already experienced enough for the night.

  “Said like a true jaded adult.” She sipped on her drink again, careful to take itsy-bitsy tastes instead of downing it in one gulp like she wanted. She was on the clock and facing a very real threat against her client. She was his only line of defense right now—and, technically, one of the people on the threat list. This night had become one for the record books in a hurry.

  “Please. You’re one to talk.” There was that easy smile again. Right on cue. Eliam was a good deflector of topics he didn’t care to pursue. Good thing she wasn’t dating him—getting to know him would bring its own set of challenges.

  “And you would know this how?” She arched a brow. “Maybe I see the world in laughter and bubbles filled with candy canes.” Some days she wished she did; she wished she hadn’t seen half the shit she had in her thirty years on this crazy-ass earth.

  “I’ve seen and experienced things, yes. And, by the looks of it, so have you,” he conceded and judged all at once.

  She didn’t squirm in her seat, but her crossed legs pushed together a little harder. This wasn’t about her. “I have, but I’ve never been the target of a killer before,” she lied through the teeth she’d worn braces on for two years as a teenager. Her past, or present, had nothing to do with their conversation.

  “I’ll be crossing that item off my to-do list in the morning. If I make it that long.” He winked and the act felt out of place.

  Everything he was saying and doing was to gloss over the fact that his life was in danger. Of course, he didn’t really know how much danger, and she had the sneaky suspicion she d
idn’t, either. It would be fairly easy to put a bullet in his head, he wasn’t a hard target to track, and collect the hefty sum—if she were a cold-blooded killer. Which she wasn’t. Her entire adult life had been dedicated to protecting the innocent, first with the army and now with Wyn Security. Eliam didn’t deserve to die because someone had the money to make it happen.

  “So this protection service you provide, you’re good at what you do?” he asked as he set his glass down on the end table next to him.

  “You’re about to find out.”

  “Me, I save the hunt for more pleasurable pursuits.”

  His eyes locked on to hers and her breath caught. When the man’s full attention was on something, it was a laser beam—a stream of hunky, mysterious energy that, if he weren’t a client, would draw her to him in one tittering heartbeat.

  “I don’t believe in coincidences,” he said.

  “Me, either.” She took a deep breath. Now they were getting somewhere. “Finally, something we have in common…besides wanting to keep you alive.”

  “Alive is good. Alive is preferable.” He nodded once, the playfulness gone.

  Judging from his stern look, he could take care of himself in any boardroom in the world. And get his way. He was well built, imposing, and dark in all the right ways. There was definitely something simmering below his clean-cut exterior, and she hoped she’d find out what. In a totally professional manner, of course.

  What are you hiding? A man like him, in the position he held and with his family, had seen things. He’d made decisions. She wondered how far he’d had to go in his line of work—the shipping industry was usually ripe with mischief.

  Are you good mischief, or the bad kind, Mr. Prince?

  • • •

  Eliam kept his eyes glued to Winter. This is who Louis was adamant I call? It was absurd to think he needed a bodyguard and that this woman sitting across from him was going to provide those services. He should’ve waited, he should’ve calmed down and thought through the events before he’d taken Louis’s advice. Now he was stuck with a stranger in his house who worked for Franklin for all he knew. He glanced at his bedroom door—he should’ve grabbed his gun and stuck it in his jeans.

  Right, like he was some kind of gangster.

  She gracefully stood and stretched her legs. “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary since you’ve returned home?” She didn’t physically touch anything, but it was clear she was cataloging all of his possessions.

  “No. But I haven’t looked, either. I showered and called you.”

  He’d taken a very hot shower to counteract the cold sweats the driver in the black car had given him. He was damn lucky to not have had a heart attack.

  “Mind looking around with me?”

  He did as she asked and they started near the wet bar. He shared his attention equally between the accoutrements his designer had decided he needed and Winter. She had a curvy shape that also managed to be lean, toned—her breasts were a handful, her waist smaller, her ass luscious in her tight, black pants, and her legs long for her estimated five-foot-seven frame. She was a darker-skinned beauty who, offhand, didn’t look to meet the bodyguard criteria—which probably made her that much more deadly.

  “Look for any detail that might be out of place or new. Even if you’re not sure, show me.” She inspected the shelving that lined the two walls flanking the bank of windows.

  “Okay, but honestly the only things I picked out in here were the couches, the art, and my bed.”

  If it were left up to him, he wouldn’t have any of it, but entertaining was necessary and he couldn’t very well look like he dwelled in temporary housing.

  Ah, his bed. Damn, he could feel all of his muscles, and a headache was forming. The shower had done little to relieve the pinch that still cramped his every move. Sleep might help, but he’d be damned if he was going to get any tonight.

  “Should I text you when I’m going in to the office tomorrow?” he asked, resisting the urge to rub his temples at the sweet chance they might stop throbbing.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “So you’ll know when to meet me there.” He just wanted to be alone now and go to bed. Everything would sort itself out in the light of day.

  She picked up a set of three white vases to check in and under them, but her intense, dark blue gaze had already made an imprint on him. Her almond-shaped eyes were like magnets to his groin. Her silky brown skin, mixed with alluring Spanish features—oval face, dark lashes—replaced the images of a car ramming him off the road.

  “I’ll know because I’ll be with you.”

  “You’ll be what?”

  “I’m taking the first shift. You’ll meet the rest of my team at your office tomorrow and then we’ll all take turns.”

  Suddenly he wasn’t so tired anymore.

  “Have we not been having the same conversation this entire time?” she asked. “My team and I provide around-the-clock personal protection.”

  He blew out a loud sigh. This woman was pushing the boundaries of his patience. Maybe she’d mentioned it, but all he’d been able to think about was his heart-pounding night, Franklin’s creepy stare, and his first day as president. His attitude toward Winter was unfair—yes, he’d called her—but it was late and he didn’t really think anything else could possibly happen tonight. But, then again, he hadn’t thought some psycho, hired by another psycho, would try to run him off the road, either.

  The ends of his lips twitched upward as he channeled his presidential self—the calm, cool, and collected part. “I have a spare room. You can use that.” He pointed to the hallway past the bar. Three doors capped off the long passage—one room for his office, another for guests, and a bathroom in between.

  Hell, he’d be at the office most of the week anyway. She’d just be standing at his door the entire time.

  “We won’t be sleeping.”

  A steamy picture flashed of her naked in his bed while they didn’t sleep.

  “My team and I, while we’re here. We will use it for our gear, though. Thank you,” she said while inspecting a blue glass sculpture that always reminded him of lightning even though it looked nothing like a bolt.

  If this was what he had to do to make Louis feel better, and possibly himself, then it was a small sacrifice. It might even be a bit of fun.

  • • •

  “Make yourself at home.” Eliam collected their glasses and returned them to the bar. “I’m calling it a night.”

  Winter grabbed her bag from the entryway floor. “Good night.”

  For a second it seemed he had more to say, but instead he disappeared behind a closed door off the kitchen on the opposite side of the guest room.

  She pulled her phone out from her jacket pocket, checked the time hoping maybe it wouldn’t be too late, which it was, and called Felix.

  “Oh man, this better be dire,” Felix’s deep voice rasped.

  “I think it fits the bill.” She glanced behind her at Eliam’s closed door and headed to the guest bedroom just to be sure she wouldn’t be overheard. “We have a new client with at least one hit on his head through Holland, and it’s a time-sensitive issue.”

  “Do I want to know how you know this exact information?” Felix had been in the field with her and knew Holland’s SOP. To say Felix wasn’t a fan was a gross understatement.

  “Holland called when I was on the way to the client’s.” She flipped on the light switch—a knitted navy quilt adorned the guest bed and looked to be more fitting for a cottage down by the ocean instead of a sleek penthouse.

  “Shit,” he breathed. “You didn’t.” Felix sounded more awake and definitely not pleased with anything she was telling him. The man’s face was in a perpetual state of pissed, so she could picture his grumpy stare easily.

  “I had to. This is where Louis works now. Prince Industries. Eliam Prince is our client.” There was a long vanity with a mirror and some trinkets along the far wall. She opened th
e drawers, but they only contained extra bedding and sheets.

  “Do you know who hired,” he paused, “well, you?”

  Her face scrunched and she rubbed her lips together—it sounded worse out loud than it had in her head. “Not concretely, which is why I need you and Eddie on this, but our best lead so far is Franklin Black. He’s the stepfather and former president of the company.”

  “That’s good. This shouldn’t be too bad, then. And, if we get Holland in the process, it’s a win-win.” She could tell Felix was busting out one of his rare smiles at the thought. Win-win indeed. “I can’t believe he’s on the military’s payroll.”

  “I don’t think he’s in that racket anymore. I heard he got out about a year ago and is stateside making less-than-savory deals. Obviously.” She propped up pillows, sank in to the queen-sized bed, and closed her eyes.

  “That bastard is scum.”

  “Oh”—her eyes quickly opened—“wait, that’s not all.” She’d almost forgotten a crucial tidbit. You can make it six hours, and then sleep will be all yours.

  “Usually that sentence is followed by prizes. Why do I not think you have prizes?”

  “Because I really just have more bad news. Someone tried to run him off the road earlier and it wasn’t Holland. There’s at least one other player in the game, and I don’t know who that could be yet. Eliam isn’t exactly forthcoming with information.”

  Neither of them had to voice their concerns over a client hiding information—they both knew from experience it was dangerous. Three of their former teammates had paid the ultimate price for their lesson.

  “I’ll wake up Eddie and dig into this.” Felix’s voice scrambled the picture of the bloody aftermath her mind had drifted back to. “He’s going to want a jelly donut.”

  “Tell him the first chance I get.” Eddie Dever and his jelly donuts. The man was fit, extremely good with computers, and had a weakness like none other for freaking jelly donuts.

  She disconnected and closed her eyes one more time. Just a few seconds. There’d be time enough to sleep tomorrow when Eliam was safely in Felix’s and Eddie’s hands. She took a deep breath, promised herself a jelly donut, and swung her legs over the bed. There were cameras to hide.