Hot Soldier Bodyguard

by Cindy Dees

  Gunter escorted them upstairs and ushered them into her room with a quiet admonition. “Stay inside at night from now on.”

  Joe grinned at the security man. “Can I quote you on that?”

  Gunter’s gaze flickered over to her. “Keep her safe, eh?”

  Joe’s voice shifted, taking on a tone she didn’t hear often outside of this room. One of deadly seriousness. “With my life.”

  Gunter nodded as if the two of them had come to an important understanding. Must be some sort of guy thing. Passing the torch for the care and feeding of the weak, needy female. She rolled her eyes and stepped into the room.

  While Joe did, in fact, lock the door securely, she turned off the lights. All of them. It had suddenly hit her that Joe had seen what had happened in her father’s office. He’d witnessed the Slav’s disgusting suggestions as well as her father’s response. It had been so personal. So…degrading.

  In an effort to distract him, she said, “I need a shower. To get the chlorine from our swim out of my hair. Join me?”

  Joe glanced at the bathroom and then back at her. Understanding that she wanted to talk and didn’t want to be overheard dawned on his face.

  He nodded crisply but drawled easily, “You got it, baby. I’ll scrub your back if you’ll scrub mine.”

  “Deal.”

  When the bathroom door was closed and the water running full steam, Joe turned to her. “What’s up?”

  “I thought you might be interested in exactly what it was my father was buying tonight.”

  “He’s buying something?”

  She leaned her hip against the blue granite counter and crossed her arms. “Yup. Information.”

  Joe cocked a questioning eyebrow.

  “Turns out the Slavic jerk has access to his country’s intelligence documents. And the South African guy buys information from a spy satellite the South African government has in orbit. I don’t know where the other two get their stuff from, but they’re information brokers, too.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s your old man trying so hard to get his mitts on?”

  She paused for a moment to let the dramatic tension build.

  “Well?” Joe prompted.

  “He’s trying to buy the names and home addresses of everyone on the Blackjacks.”

  Joe lurched up off the toilet, where he was seated. “What?”

  “I said—”

  “I heard you the first time. Tell me everything he said.”

  That answered that. Joe was definitely a member of the highly classified Special Forces team.

  She shrugged. “There wasn’t much to hear. My father offered a million dollars per name to the first man to bring him the complete roster of the Blackjacks operators and where they live. Another ten million to whoever can find my sister.”

  “And what’s he planning to do with all that information?” Joe snapped.

  She winced. Wasn’t it obvious?

  Rather than say the words aloud that her father planned to kill Joe and his teammates, she said, “The South African asked the same thing in a roundabout way, and in just as roundabout a way, my father told him to mind his own business.”

  Joe unleashed a long string of profanities. “I’ve got to get that camera back.”

  “What camera?” she asked, confused.

  “The one I used to take pictures of your father’s guests. I hid it under the bushes below your balcony when I thought your father’s men were going to shoot me.”

  The thought of him taking a bullet made her shudder.

  Joe was speaking again. “Did you catch their names?”

  She nodded.

  “The first order of business is to relay this information to some friends of mine who’ll know what to do with it.”

  That was interesting. He didn’t come right out and name himself a member of the Blackjacks, nor did he acknowledge the existence of the team by so much as a flicker of an eyelash. Was that a matter of habit, or didn’t he trust her?

  Not that she blamed him. Her last name was Ferrare, after all. Well, now it was technically Smith. But same diff.

  “Have you got any ideas of how I could send out a message without it being intercepted?” he asked.

  “I can modify your cell phone. Tighten up the transmission frequency and change it so the regular scans Gunter uses won’t pick it up. Would that work?” she asked.

  He murmured, “Color me impressed.”

  “Let’s go get the camera now,” she said eagerly, already thinking about how to modify his phone to send out data files.

  “Slow down, honey. We won’t get an inch outside this room for the rest of the night without a horde of your father’s men landing on us. Maybe tomorrow.”

  She deflated rapidly. He was right. Apparently, the adrenaline still surging through her after their close encounter in the pool had left some sort of residue in its wake. An afterglow of wildness that was tearing at her for release.

  “Besides,” he continued, “I’m beat. You must be exhausted. I know I am. Go ahead and grab a shower. I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”

  Hah. She was the exact opposite of exhausted.

  As Cari took a quick shower and dried her hair, she doubted Joe’s supposed fatigue. He just didn’t want her coming on to him. She knew he was attracted to her, but why wouldn’t he do anything about it?

  Obvious answer: work. He felt a need to be on guard all the time.

  Obvious remedy: get him to relax. Let down his hair for a little while and then his real feelings would come through and he would finally get around to making love to her.

  It was worth a try, at any rate. She couldn’t take too much more of this frustration.

  When she left the bathroom, Joe was surfing TV channels. He stopped on a music video station and turned it up loud. And then he reached for the bed covers, which had been remade from where he’d ripped them up earlier. Cari would bet a maid had been sent in to repair the damage from the search of her room while she and Joe were trapped in the pool.

  She never could get used to the total lack of privacy in her father’s home—the way others came in and out of her room, manhandling her possessions as if they were public property. Yet another reason to get out of here as soon as possible.

  Joe invited her with a sweep of the hand to climb in.

  And, shockingly, she was okay with doing just that. Maybe it was the knowledge that this was a new mattress. Or maybe it was Joe’s comforting presence. But whatever it was, she was actually going to sleep in her bed again! Exultation at the victory filled her. It was a small thing—stupid, really—but she’d overcome her fear. That was huge for her.

  She slipped between the smooth, cool sheets, and Joe smiled down at her as if he knew exactly what a victory it was for her to get into this bed again.

  “Way to go, tiger,” he murmured. “I told you. Spine of steel. You’re a brave woman.”

  She smiled up at him. “Don’t be too impressed. I only borrowed some courage from you.”

  “Consider it a gift,” he replied. Joe pulled the covers up around her chin and leaned over to turn off the little lamp on her bedside table. The room went dark.

  Beneath the blaring music, she murmured, “Hold me?”

  “Are you sure?” he replied cautiously.

  “Please.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t require any more invitation than that. His warmth encircled her even before his arms did. Oh, my, he felt nice.

  His hand cupped the back of her head as her cheek found the perfect spot to nestle at the base of his neck. He’d pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, and the soft cotton rubbed lightly against her skin. Her palms itched to get under it to the warm man beneath.

  Why not? They were technically married, after all. All the cameras were gone and nobody was going to hear anything over that music channel. Besides, tonight she’d earned a little of what she wanted for a change.

  She eased her hand underneath his shirt. Joe tensed, an
d acres of abs formed ridges beneath her palm.

  “I don’t bite,” she whispered.

  “Damn,” he mumbled. “I was hoping you did.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” she laughed. “You look pretty tasty.”

  “I’m all yours.”

  The comment shot her pulse up. A lot. Going to sit back and let her call the shots tonight, was he? Whoa. Well, all right then. She knew exactly what she wanted from him.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Anything I want?” Cari echoed. She wanted to make sure she’d heard him correctly before she made her request.

  “Well, within reason,” he amended. “It’s not like we can walk out of here tonight, for example. The hornet’s nest is too stirred up for that.”

  “That’s not what I want, anyway.”

  “What do you want, princess?” He sounded wary now, as if it was dawning on him exactly what giving her a carte blanche could mean.

  “Tell me your real name,” she said.

  “It’s Joe.”

  “Seriously.”

  “Seriously,” he repeated. “My real name is Joe.”

  “Joe what?”

  “Ah, Cari. Let’s not go there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Some things are best left alone. If you knew my last name, you could research all kinds of unpleasant things about me and my past. And trust me, you don’t want to know the details.”

  “Are you a criminal?” she asked.

  He answered reluctantly. “I suppose in some people’s minds I am. I’d like to think there’s always a good reason for anything I do. I certainly don’t think of myself as a criminal.”

  That was an interesting answer. Open to several possible interpretations. She cut to the chase. “Are you a member of the Blackjacks?”

  He leaned back far enough to look down at her.

  Stalling, was he?

  “If I were a member of that bunch, I would have to say no, and if I weren’t a member, I’d say no, too. So my answer to that one is…no.”

  That had to be the most unconvincing denial she’d ever heard. Maybe it was as close to an honest answer as he was allowed to give her, though.

  “Where did you learn how to do spooky stuff?”

  “Spooky stuff?”

  Stalling again. She clarified. “Finding weaknesses in security systems, climbing off balconies, and lurking in the bushes.”

  He chuckled. “You make me sound like the perfect paparazzo.”

  She smiled against his neck. “Believe me, I know paparazzi, and you’re not nearly aggressive enough to be one of them.”

  “Wow,” he responded. “That bad?”

  “If you want to see firsthand, go out in public with me. By now, the rumors of our secret wedding have to be flying like crazy.”

  “You know, that’s not a bad idea. I wonder if daddy dearest would go for it.”

  “After tonight’s little expedition, probably not. He’ll want to yank the leash hard for a couple of days. Make us remember who’s in charge.”

  Joe shrugged beneath her ear. “If you pull the leash too short, the dog can bite you.”

  She raised herself up on one elbow in alarm. “Don’t do anything stupid, Joe. You’ve gotten away with the surfer bum act so far, but he’s got plenty of bite of his own.”

  Joe reached up and urged her head back down onto his shoulder. She subsided, but reluctantly. She had to convince him not to push her father too far.

  And then it hit her. He’d done it again! He’d adroitly turned the conversation away from whether or not he was involved with the Blackjacks. Damn, he was good. She could reopen the subject and push the matter, but he would just distract her again.

  He’d probably given her all the answers he was going to, anyway. Ultimately, that was more revealing than hearing him actually admit to being in the Blackjacks.

  She lay there thoughtfully and started when Joe’s hand closed over hers. She hadn’t been paying attention, but she’d been stroking his chest beneath his T-shirt and twining her fingers in the sprinkling of chest hairs there.

  Sudden vibrating tension raced up her arm and down to her core. Without a word and hardly a movement, he’d totally changed the tenor of the moment. It was as if he had flipped on a sex-appeal switch and, all of a sudden, steaming sensuality rolled off of him. Not that she was complaining about it, of course. As distractions went, it was pretty bloody effective.

  An answering surge of need welled up inside her, rising to meet him halfway.

  “God Almighty, woman,” he muttered as he half rolled to face her. “What am I going to do with you?”

  He felt it, too, huh? “Do you want me to actually answer that question?” she replied laughingly.

  He laughed ruefully. “No, I don’t. I’ve got too many ideas of my own already.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  His free arm went around her and he gathered her close. “Nothing I’m going to act on right now. You’ve had a rough night and I’m not going to pile more emotional baggage on top of everything else.”

  Her right hand crept around his waist. This guy didn’t carry an ounce of fat on him. He was solid muscle. “Look. That Slav was a bigger asshole than most of them, but it’s not like stuff like that hasn’t happened to me before. And I’m okay.”

  “Are you?” he whispered. “Are you really?”

  The pain in his voice arrested her. He was genuinely upset by the incident.

  “Yes, Joe, I really am.” She leaned back and wormed her arms free so she could reach up and put her hands on either side of his face. “I’ve survived worse.”

  “Christ. Don’t tell me that. I’m going to have to kill every bastard who’s ever laid a hand on you.”

  “My own knight in shining armor,” she murmured. “You can’t slay all the dragons by yourself, you know.”

  “No, but I can kill the biggest, baddest one of the bunch,” he growled. “You just say the word.”

  She froze. If she wasn’t mistaken, he’d just offered to kill her father for her. The thought sent a cold chill down her spine. Her father was just doing business, using all available tools at hand to get the job done. It was nothing personal.

  “Joe, my father has always used my looks to distract men in meetings. It’s no big deal.”

  “Honey, I’m sorry, but I have to disagree. It is a big deal. That Slavic guy was all over you. And your father let it happen, even implied it could go further. No parent who loves his child would use her in that way. It’s…sick--”

  Joe broke off sharply as if his anger was about to get the best of him. He took a couple of long, deep breaths, exhaling hard.

  “It’s okay, Joe. Really.”

  “No, it’s not okay!” He exploded, sitting up abruptly and yanking his arm out from beneath her.

  “Shh,” she cautioned him in alarm, sitting up as well.

  “I’m serious,” he continued in a lower voice. “At a minimum, it should infuriate you.”

  Should it? She looked inside herself. Was there a kernel of anger inside her somewhere that she’d missed or ignored? Anger wasn’t the word for it. Hurt was a better description. She wanted to please her father, to do what made him happy. She wanted his approval. If letting his business associates paw her a little made her father proud, then she would put up with it. Except, tonight her father had gone further than before.

  Surely, he hadn’t really meant what he’d suggested. He would have made sure the Slav kept away from her once the meeting was over. Of course, he would have. She frowned. Viewed through Joe’s eyes, it did seem like she was letting her father prostitute her in a calculated and debasing way. Maybe she should be angry.

  “Maybe I’m not strong enough to get mad over it,” she said carefully.

  “Bull,” he snorted. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” He shoved a hand through his dark hair. “The bastard is using you. He’s treating you with no more respect than a cheap h
ooker. Jesus—” Joe broke off and took a deep breath “—Cari, that’s not love. It’s—”

  Anger flared in her. “It’s what, Joe? Go ahead and say it. What does that make me?”

  It was his turn to look at the walls in alarm and shush her.

  “Don’t go telling me to be quiet. You’re the one who brought this up. You can damned well finish this conversation.”

  His eyes closed in acute pain. When he finally opened them, sorrow shone in their dark depths. He spoke gently. “I’m sorry, Cari. I was wrong to open this can of worms. It’s your life and I have no right to intrude or judge. I just hate to see you get hurt.”

  That did it. The dam broke and the tears came. Thank God the room was dark because she had never learned how to cry prettily. Her eyes turned red and swelled and her nose ran, and she snot-cried ungracefully while ugly sobs racked her. She didn’t even make decent crying noises. She sounded like a bull moose with a cold.

  She wanted Joe to claim the right to intrude! Why did he refuse to see that? It all closed in on her—the hurt, the fear and the shame—and she sobbed all the more.

  But through it all, Joe held her, offering her tissues and pushing her hair off her face and wiping away the tears.

  “Better?” he finally murmured.

  “God, I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I’m not even sure what I was crying about.”

  “Why don’t you just chalk it up to stress relief,” he suggested.

  A comforting thought, but there was more to it than that. Much more. Tonight, Joe had torn away the blinders she wore to get through her life with a measure of sanity. She didn’t want to see her world as it really was! Didn’t Joe understand that? She had to let a layer of fog obscure the sharp corners and harsh realities of it all. The illusions were all she had.

  “Come here, Cari,” Joe murmured.

  She rolled into his arms and clung to him tightly. She ought to be embarrassed by her complete breakdown, but Joe seemed to have taken it in stride.

  “I’ll make it better, I swear,” he muttered into her hair.

  Was he saying that to her or to himself? She couldn’t exactly tell.