Guardian For Hire

by Christine Bell

  instantly or…

  “Well, that was…that was fun,” she breathed. He turned back to find her sitting with her legs slung over the side of the bed, smiling, her arms crossed over her still-rosy chest. She looked more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. Hope lodged in his heart, and he grinned back.

  “I agree.” He’d been through plenty of awkward afterglows, but he’d never had to deal with knowing the person would still be living with him afterward.

  “We’ll have to do it again sometime…soon?”

  At first he thought he hadn’t heard her, but she was looking him in the eye so intensely that there was no way it could have been a mistake. She bit her lip hard enough that the thing looked fit to bust, so he rushed to put her out of her misery.

  “Yes. As a matter of fact”—he leaned in and kissed her, pushing back the warning blaring in the back of his mind with a vicious shove—“why don’t you join me in the shower in five?”

  Chapter Twelve

  In the days since he and Sarabeth had first slept together, he’d made an effort to leave bed as little as possible, with the exception of working her case and getting her in shape for the basics of self-defense. Every time he thought he wouldn’t be able to muster the energy to pleasure her in every way he could imagine, she’d turn over in the sheets, and he’d catch a peek of those sweet pink nipples. Or she’d get out of bed to use the bathroom so that he could see the curve of her heart-shaped ass swaying as she walked away from him. By the time she was back in bed, his worries were always long forgotten.

  He still had to leave more often than he’d have liked, but every time he got to come back to bed and find her there was another reward for all his hard work.

  That morning, however, he slipped out while she slept, reluctantly leaving her in Maddy’s capable hands for an hour. He got to his office in record time, determined to get in and out so that he could get back in and out of Sarabeth as quickly as possible, but as he was about to enter the building, a motion from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned to get a better look and found a lanky man leaning against a limo parked near the wrought iron gates. A fedora masked the upper part of his face, but Gavin took in the spindly build and lightning-shaped mutton chops. A mug shot flashed through his mind, and he examined the Roman nose. There was no mistaking the pockmarked face of Sal “Lightning” Lighterton.

  The gangster stared back at him and made the slightest motion for him to approach, not raising his hand above his waist.

  Gavin strolled over, hand on the butt of his pistol, senses alert, saying as loudly as possible, “Let me guess, Jimmy Too Short? Joey Baggamuffins? Johnny on the Spot?” If he was going to get information, he’d have to play dumb. And if he wasn’t going to get information, then he was going to need backup. Keeping him talking might be the only way to get the private parking lot feeling more public. Until then, playing dumb was his only option.

  The thug laughed a wheezing, labored chuckle, then plucked the toothpick from between his ashy lips and pointed it at Gavin. “You’re real funny, huh? It’d be a shame if somebody slit that hysterical windpipe on you, so I’ma do you a favor. Listen closely—all’s we want is all the footage from The Healing Place so it can be destroyed. There are things my employer doesn’t want…seen.” His voice sounded as though there was a wasp perpetually lodged in the back of his throat.

  “What would make him think I know anything about that?” Gavin said. His mind whirred. What possible motive could a gangster have for wanting tapes, other than continuing the string of blackmail Nico had started? Unless… His chain of thought was broken by Sal’s reply.

  “That was a pretty young lady, that one that’s always on the news. You know her?”

  “What are you trying to say, buddy? Spit it out.” He wasn’t playing games any more. His brain flashed to an image of Sarabeth, dark hair spread on his pillow, and his stomach cramped. What if he wasn’t the only mobster in town?

  “We got some recent intel that could make getting rid of your young friend a moot point. Good information, you know, says that all the footage is hidden away in some evidence locker. You wouldn’t happen to know anybody with access to that locker?” Sal perched the toothpick back between his lips, a malicious smile curling his thin lips.

  He obviously already knew the answer to that question, but Gavin wasn’t about to give him any leeway. Not yet. “I couldn’t say, since I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The smile on the thug’s face hardened into a solid line. “I don’t think you’re paying attention. Let me spell it out for you. We’re willing to forget about Sarabeth Lucking. Scout’s honor. And you know it’s hard for guys like us to forget about such pretty ladies. All you have to do is turn over those tapes. Easy as that. If not, well, things might not be so easy.” He spit the toothpick onto the ground in front of Gavin’s feet. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Sal slipped into the back of the limo, closing the door without a second glance at Gavin before the car sped away on the high street. It was only after he’d watched the vehicle disappear over a hill that he noticed the man had left a calling card. On the other side of the space where the car had been parked, there lay a dark-red brick with a note rubber-banded around it. The words were typed in newspaper font:

  Beachwood Street. 5 p.m. Pay phone.

  He read the words twice before stuffing the paper in his pocket and turning on his heel to stalk toward his office.

  There was no question that the only way to obtain the tapes was through illegal measures. He’d been on the wrong side of the law more than his fair share and for far less altruistic reasons. So what if he’d given up that life more than a decade ago? Sarabeth was special. And the thought of seeing even a single hair on her head harmed made his chest hurt. He wasn’t in a mental place to think too hard on the whys of that. If he wanted to ensure her safety, there was work to be done.

  His conscience kicked hard at the thought of doing any favors for the mob and the possible ramifications of those videos going missing, but the more he knocked the pros and cons around, the more he was convinced of what he needed to do. The tapes were part of the evidence against Nico, and now that Nico was dead, they might never come out of their box again. It wasn’t as if their disappearance would hurt the DA’s case against him. He’d paid the ultimate price for his crimes already, and once Vito got what he wanted, it could all be over. Sarabeth would be safe and free to choose how she lived the rest of her life.

  Maybe she’d even choose him.

  Either way, he’d be damned if someone was going to tell him she wasn’t worth the risk.

  She was the only risk worth taking.

  …

  When she woke up, Sarabeth shifted in the bed to find an empty pillow and a man-shaped imprint on the mattress. The place where Gavin normally slept had gone cold since he’d left, and the feel of the cool pillow left a residual chill in her heart. The disappointment of not finding him beside her was a splash of water on the red-hot trend her imagination had taken over the past five days. But the thing that was most unsettling wasn’t that he wasn’t there, it was how much she wanted him to be. How much she’d expected him to be.

  The past few nights they’d fallen into a routine where they’d cook together, often taking an hour or more as they talked and he showed her the proper way to grill a steak or make a meatloaf. She’d actually managed a half-decent pair of pork chops almost totally on her own the night before. Sure, the mashed potatoes were a little gluey, but all in all, not bad. After dinner, they’d have a glass of wine and talk some more, or watch a movie. And then? Things invariably heated up. Her cheeks burned at the memory of some of those nights. She loved being with him that way. Loved who she was becoming. Braver. Bolder. The Sarabeth she felt like she would have been all along if she had the freedom to grow her own way.

  But almost as good as the sex were the moments right after. The quiet moments right before they fell asleep, when he would nudge her
to her side and spoon her from behind. One hand resting lightly on the flat of her stomach, his thighs pressed against the back of hers, his breath washing over the nape of her neck as they drifted off.

  He was becoming a habit. A lovely, warm, sexy, and entirely too tempting habit.

  Her throat went tight, and she shot upright in the bed. Leaning off to the side, she scooped up the first piece of clothing she found—a discarded button-down shirt Gavin had left on the floor the day before—and yanked it on. It still smelled like his musky, woody cologne, and she breathed deeply, taking in his scent. The smell comforted her.

  Not good.

  When she’d slept with him that first night, it had been because she wanted him, and for no other reason. Now, five days later, she was perched precariously between wanting to run from his house before she fell so hard that she couldn’t make herself go, and taking her chances and seeing if he could possibly feel what she’d been feeling.

  He’d enjoyed her body for the past few days, and they’d fallen into a routine in the evenings, but in between there were times where he grew distant again. Most of the day, he left her alone with her books when he was off working or on the telephone, and he was very tight-lipped. When they practiced self-defense, it was often in silence, and even then, he seemed distracted.

  Was that some sort of checks and balances system? Where he was pulling away half the time so he could make sure he didn’t get truly close to begin with? He had no use for the neat, proper life he knew she’d go back to, and she was pretty sure that his edge-of-your-seat, he-may-never-come-home lifestyle wasn’t something she could handle either.

  She stood, suddenly sure of one thing. If she kept on this road with him, she was going to wind up in a world of hurt.

  Her throat ached as she collected her clothing from his floor, carrying all her belongings back into the spare room he’d shown her on their second day together because that was where it, and she, needed to stay. She might be in physical danger right now, but if she let Gavin get any closer than she had already, there was no way she was coming out of this in one piece.

  The downstairs door banged open as she began picking out her outfit for the day. She dropped the clothes and rushed to the top of the stairs to find Gavin already stalking toward her.

  “There’s been a change of plans,” he said gruffly, pushing past her to head toward his bedroom. He’d barely looked at her as he went. “You’ll need to stay here, you understand? With your gun. Just in case.” He wrenched open drawers of his dresser, pawing through the garments until he found little metal gears and gadgets she’d never seen before.

  She swallowed hard, reminding herself to maintain her resolve. “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been contacted by someone who assures me that if I get the footage from The Healing Place’s security cameras, you’ll be safe.”

  “Who contacted you? And what do they need the footage for?” Her heart pounded at the thought of being free of the constant fear, but at the same time, the fact that he was being very vague wasn’t lost on her.

  “Look, the less you know right now, the better. I’m going to do what I need to do in order to make sure you’re safe. I feel confident that if we play these cards right, they’ll call off the dogs and you’ll be free to go.”

  Free to go?

  Her heart plummeted into her stomach. “What do mean, ‘what you need to do’?”

  He didn’t answer, but his face said it all and her skin went cold with growing horror as she took in the items in his hands.

  “You’re not seriously thinking about breaking into the police station evidence locker, are you?”

  He closed his eyes and slumped against the dresser. His voice was low and tight. “I don’t know what I’m doing yet but I have to consider all options right now.”

  “Are you crazy?” she whispered furiously. “You could be arrested. You could ruin your career, and Maddy’s. Not to mention, how do you know you can even trust these pe—”

  “I’m going to weigh it all out and decide what the right way to handle this is. I’m the expert. This isn’t up for debate.” He grabbed a leather satchel from the far right drawer of the dresser and shook it out, muttering over a checklist to himself as he went.

  “Exactly right, it isn’t. I know you understand criminals and all that MacGyver stuff you do, but that doesn’t mean you can be a criminal. It’s not in you.” She crossed her arms over her chest, providing a mental congratulations to herself on a point well made.

  The right side of his mouth curled in response. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I? I’m a mental health professional.” Bam. Two points Sarabeth. Zero points crime.

  “That you are, and you’re a good one, I’m sure, but I’m what you’d call a retired pro in terms of crime. When I was in Edinburgh, I had to get by somehow. My ma was…unavailable, so I found other ways. I lived that way from the time I was five until I became an Army Ranger. Never once was I caught. Trust me when I tell you I can handle it.”

  “But it was petty stuff, right? Like, Les Mis steal-a-loaf-of-bread-to-eat type of stuff?” Her voice hitched in the middle of the sentence, and he turned away from her as he stuffed the rest of his trinkets in the bag.

  When he was finished, he took a deep breath and a step toward her, his cool hazel gaze penetrating hers. “Would that make you feel better?” The warmth of his breath brushed her face, and she bit back the urge to lick her lips and taste the minty flavor he’d left on her mouth the night before. But no, right now, they were serious.

  “It would make me feel better if you didn’t go at all.”

  He leaned in close, pausing a millimeter from her lips before dipping lower to plant a kiss on her collarbone, his lips traveling the length of her neck before she felt his warm breath tingling her earlobe.

  She made an attempt to push him away, but his grip shackled her wrists and pressed her against the dresser, knocking over the picture of Maddy with his force. “I think I know another way I can make you feel better,” he breathed. Her back arched into him, her core pressing against his hot, hard bulge. With deft movements, he released her wrists and tore open the shirt she’d been wearing, sending buttons flying in every direction.

  Her breath caught in her throat as he closed his mouth over her pert nipple, sucking on the sensitive tip until her toes curled and her thighs quaked. “Gavin…”

  “Don’t you want to feel better?” he asked, raising a hand to stroke her other tight peak.

  “I…” she started, and he got on his knees, reaching to massage both of her breasts, and his mouth traveled lower, uninhibited by her lack of panties.

  His tongue flicked against her bud, and he looked up at her, his chin resting against the light trail of hair that led to her center. “Yes?” he asked, his hands gripping her waist.

  “Yes,” she whispered, part of her wanting to resist, but the bigger part knowing, one way or another, their time together was coming to a close. She blinked back the hot rush of tears and let herself sink into the moment.

  His tongue entered her again, tracing her folds before dipping inside of her, then pulling back and toying with her clit once more. She wanted to scream, to lose herself in his touch. Each time was more electric that the last, and the way his tongue moved against her was building to a full-on power surge. It was too much for one woman to bear.

  He gripped her waist and pushed her back so that her bottom was atop the dresser, then moved to spread her legs wider. His tongue pulsed slowly, then quicker, and slowly again until she was banging her head against the wall, nearing the point of physical explosion. Her lip might bleed if she bit down on it any harder, but the hot, iron taste in her mouth would be worth it, so worth it for even a fraction of what he did to her.

  “Gavin,” she moaned, and his response was to slip two fingers inside of her, working them up and down until her body made the dresser shake beneath her. “Oh, oh,” she cried, and he wo
rked faster, plunging his digits in and out while his tongue continued to work against her.

  “I want to be inside you.” He bit gently on her inner thigh. “But I want to watch you come first.”

  Her walls shuddered at the words, tightening to meet his command as he licked her wet sex. He fingered her deeper and faster, pushing her over the edge until she was free-falling, a flush rising through her breasts and settling in her cheeks. She released her bottom lip, finally unleashing the scream she’d been holding on to for so long.

  Her toes curled around him, resting on the hard muscle of his thighs as her body convulsed with pleasure.

  “Ah, that’s what I want. You’re so sexy when you come.”

  “Now it’s your turn.” She licked her upper lip and pushed him off of her gently with her foot.

  He complied, yanking off his trousers as he stood, and her mouth hung open for a second as she took in his hard length. It didn’t matter how often she’d seen it before. Every time she beheld him was more impressive than the last. She moved to slide from the wood surface, to resume her familiar place in the middle of his mattress, but he cornered her on the dresser, pressing himself against her as he kissed her earlobe again.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was hungry and deep. When he pulled back to kiss her, his lips were red and plump from his hard work, still slick with her. She bit gently on his bottom lip as her mouth closed over it, inviting his tongue with her own. His thickness pulsed at her kiss, and she smiled at the reaction.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded, and she followed orders. His fingers dug into her bottom as he lifted her from the dresser. Still, his kisses never ceased as he carried her across the room and her back connected with the cold wall. He had her absolutely pinned, her nipples pressed hard against his own, the heat of his member grinding against her aching sex.

  With one arm, he propped her body against the wall, and with the other he pulled back, gripping himself and guiding his way inside her. He groaned, growing even harder as he buried himself deeper. “You’re so fucking wet,” he ground out.

  Her walls quaked at his entry, sending a jolt of pleasure through her every nerve as he worked in and out of her. The mirror on the wall shook with their effort, but it was all peripheral. The thing could have shattered into a million pieces on top of her for all she cared. She was in sexual paradise, and his body was her island.

  His eyes were dark and hungry as he kneaded her bottom, pulling her hips into each of his thrusts with a demanding growl.

  “You feel so good,” she murmured, clawing at his back to keep herself aloft. Her fingernails dug into his skin, and she could already spy angry red marks along his shoulder blades. It only seemed to excite him more, though, and what little restraint he had left disappeared. He slammed her body against the wall, nearly knocking the wind out of her. His love was greedy, rough, and gripping, and nothing had ever felt so good.

  Her breasts bounced against her as he worked her up and down, her hips slamming against him in equal time. Again, she ran her nails down his back, and he dug his thumbs into her hips in response. Already, she could feel the bruises that would be there by morning, and it only heightened the sweet ached building between her thighs. Her back arched, leading him deeper inside her.

  “Sarabeth,” he rasped, low at first, then louder.

  That was what pushed her over the edge. His voice in tandem with the waves of pleasure he sent through her with every thrust—it had all been building toward this screaming crescendo.

  “Oh, Gavin.” Her body exploded, every part of her shaking with ecstasy. She clung to his back, her calves hooked tighter around him, and she threw herself into it, demanding he work faster and harder, needing to feel every delicious motion to its absolute fullest until she couldn’t feel anything anymore.

  When it was over, he carried her to the bed, carefully laying her down before pulling away. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and rolled to his feet, handing her a tissue before he began to dress.

  “I was going to shower before I did all that,” she offered. “You can join me if you want.”

  “I can’t. I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff again, and she realized that their lovemaking had shifted her focus. They’d been discussing something important, but her ears were still ringing, and it took a second to dredge up the memory.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, bolting to sit upright when their conversation came back to her in a rush. “Tell me you’re not still seriously going to do this.”

  He looked away and shook his head. “I won’t. At least, not the way you’re thinking. I’ve got an idea, though, and it needs more looking into.”

  Relief flooded her until she realized they weren’t out of the woods yet. “Right now?” Her eyebrows shot up, and she leaned back on her elbows, flashing her breasts in hopes of getting him to abandon whatever crazy scheme he was planning, but he still wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “Yeah, and I have to go to the office for a bit. I won’t be long, okay? And I’ll explain everything when I get back.”

  He zipped up his leather jacket and made for the door, pausing in the frame for a moment. He turned to her, his mouth hanging open for an instant, but in the next he snapped it shut and was on his way.

  “Yeah, okay,” she called, but she’d already heard the echo of the downstairs entrance closing behind him.

  At least now she knew where she stood.

  You’ll be free to go.

  Pain closed an icy fist around her heart as she made her way to the bathroom. At least she’d managed to convince him not to break into the evidence locker. He might not be falling for her the way she was for him, but that was something, at least.

  Wasn’t it?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gavin’s mind hummed with possibilities as he sped down the steps, taking them two at a time until he was finally out the door. He only had a few hours until he had to get to that pay phone, and now that Sarabeth effectively reminded him of all the reasons he shouldn’t do the job himself, he’d have to do things the hard way. The way Vito’s boy had thought he was going to do them in the first place. By dealing with the devil he knew to get out of dealing with the devil he didn’t.

  He dialed his phone as he backed out of his driveway, using the one number he’d hoped he’d never need.