In Enemy Hands

by Michelle Perry

  Nick sighed and pressed the button. “All right, Waynie. Go to bed.” His eyes narrowed when he turned to them. “What are you two doing up?”

  “Insomnia,” Nadia said quickly. “I was showing Dante the garden.”

  Not to mention what I might’ve shown him if Waynie hadn’t tripped the alarm, she thought, glad the room was dark and her father couldn’t see the blush creeping up her neck.

  “Go try to get some rest. You can show Dante around tomorrow.”

  “Okay, goodnight, Nick.” Nadia hurried up the stairs, conscious of Dante’s gaze burning into her back while he jogged up the steps behind her. She found the courage to face him when they stepped into the hallway.

  She pointed to the oak doors and forced a smile. “This is me, that one’s you.”

  To her surprise and disappointment, Dante turned without another word and walked toward the guestroom.

  “What, no goodnight kiss?” she blurted.

  He stopped and slowly twisted around to smile at her. Something unreadable flashed in his dark eyes.

  “Still afraid of me, huh?” she joked, but her heart pounded in her ears when he strolled back to her.

  Her breath caught when he gently removed the flower from behind her ear. He traced the bloom along her face, down her throat and Nadia shivered, not from the whisper of the rose across her skin, but the desire burning in his eyes.

  “No. I’m afraid of me. Afraid if I touch you again, I won’t be able to stop. Goodnight, princess.”

  He handed her the rose and walked to his room. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him before she could even muster a reply. Not that she had any idea what to say to that anyway.

  Nadia slipped inside her room and shut the door behind her. She closed her eyes and leaned against it for a moment, reliving his kiss and the feel of his hands on her body. With a sigh, she crossed back to her bed and slipped between the cool, crisp sheets.

  She sniffed the rose again before laying it on the nightstand and tugging the sheets up to her chin. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep, but thoughts of Dante kept intruding.

  What would tomorrow be like? For the first time in a long time, she couldn’t wait to find out.

  Saturday, August 6

  8:30 a.m.

  Dante slipped out of the guest bedroom and shut the door behind him. He stopped by Nadia’s door and lifted his hand to knock, but then decided against it. The emotion of the night before still had him reeling.

  I feel you.

  He’d known exactly what she meant.

  Ever since he’d lost Sharon, when he’d known he’d lost Lara forever, he’d felt it. The same void, the same restlessness inside that provoked him to do crazy things just for that one surge of adrenaline, that one moment he felt alive. All these things, this mindless attraction to Nadia … he finally recognized it for what it was.

  He felt her too.

  What kind of life had Nadia led to make her feel the way she did? What could make such a beautiful, electrifying woman feel cold and numb inside?

  His mind was like a movie screen and only one feature played there. Visions of Nadia in the garden, her silver silk nightgown sliding on his bare skin, the way she tasted, the scent of her perfume. The raw, vulnerable look in her eyes.

  He was in serious trouble here.

  If he kept on, he would hurt her. She needed someone she could trust, and he wasn’t it. How would Nadia feel if she knew he was here to kidnap her, even if he was doing it for her protection? But no matter how many times he vowed to keep his distance, his resolve crumbled at her touch.

  Troubled, Dante wandered downstairs, through the dining room and into the kitchen. Nick Branson sat with his back to him, outside on the patio. He was talking on a cell phone, and Dante guessed from his animated gestures that the conversation was an important one. He slid the door open a crack to listen.

  “I want him dead! Whatever you have to do, whatever the cost. I’m sick of worrying about my family. My daughter was nearly killed yesterday. Yes, yes, I know that, but you have to find a way to get to him. No, I don’t blame you … no. It was a good plan, but it came just a little too late.”

  Footsteps sounded in the foyer behind Dante. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, he yanked open the patio door, making sure Nick heard him.

  Nick twisted around to stare at Dante, then said into the phone, “I have to go. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  Clicking the phone shut, he smiled and gestured at an empty seat across from him. “Please, Dante, join me for breakfast.”

  “Thanks.”

  Plates heaped with eggs, bacon, and fresh fruit covered the table. Dante filled a plate as Nick poured himself a cup of coffee. The strong smell beckoned Dante, sharp and enticing, reminding him of how little sleep he’d gotten the night before. “Is Nadia up yet?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” Nick said. “Actually, I’m glad we have a chance to talk without her. I have a proposition for you.”

  Dante waited while Nick dumped a teaspoonful of sugar into his cup and stirred it. Nick frowned, tapping the spoon against the side of his cup. “As you saw yesterday, I have major security problems. My family is under attack, and to be honest with you, Ronnie’s the only man I have that I can fully trust to protect Nadia. But he’s just one man, and he can’t be on duty all the time.” Nick waved toward the house. “My wife isn’t really a problem. She doesn’t leave the house much anyway, but as I’m sure you can imagine, I have my hands full with Nadia.”

  Dante sipped his coffee, wondering if Mrs. Branson stayed home by choice, or because she was afraid to go against her husband’s wishes.

  “I’d like to offer you a temporary job as Nadia’s bodyguard. I know you have your own business, with its own expenses, but I think you’ll find my compensation more than enough to cover your downtime. I need someone with your experience to keep her safe until I can neutralize the threat against her. Are you interested?”

  “I’m interested.” The wheels in Dante’s mind were spinning. This was a perfect opportunity, but he didn’t need to look too eager. “I need a little time to think about it, make arrangements.”

  “Fair enough,” Nick replied, then leaned back in his chair. “There is, however, one stipulation.”

  “What’s that?” Dante asked, but he already knew what the man was going to say next. Resentment settled in the pit of his stomach like a rock.

  “I want you to keep your relationship with Nadia strictly business.”

  There it was. Same story, different faces.

  Men like Nick Branson were all the same. They expected him to die for their daughters, but he wasn’t good enough to date them. Dante remembered the fury on Sharon’s father’s face when he’d caught the teenagers kissing behind the garage. Russ Martin had fired Dante on the spot, but it had been too late. Sharon was already carrying his child.

  “Please don’t take offense,” Nick said.

  Dante remained silent.

  “I can’t tell Nadia not to see you, because she’s so rebellious it would be like spitting in the wind. She needs someone who would be a stabilizing influence on her. Somehow I don’t think you’re it.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  The words slipped out before Dante could stop them. He should be playing along, agreeing with whatever Branson suggested, but Nadia’s stepfather had managed to tear the scab off a wound that had never quite healed.

  “Don’t I?”

  Nick’s sympathetic smile infuriated Dante. “Let’s see …” He flipped through the file in front of him. “You signed up for the marines when you were 18 and served a four-year stint. In the past three years, you’ve lived in Texas, Los Angeles, Chicago, Japan, and recently returned home to New York. Always looking for action, the next big adventure. I simply don’t want to see my daughter hurt the next time you blow out of town.”

  Dante struggled to keep his face impassive. He took another sip of coffee before replying. “F
ine.”

  The fact that Nick Branson lied about his real reason didn’t make it go down any easier, but Dante knew he couldn’t blow this opportunity.

  “Hey, guys. What’s going on?”

  Dante looked up to see Nadia standing at the patio door.

  Nadia leaned in the doorway, suddenly feeling self-conscious in her blue jeans and white T-shirt. Maybe she should’ve dressed up a little more. Or maybe she should’ve stayed in her room and prayed Dante would be gone by the time she came out. She didn’t know what to think, or what to feel.

  Dante’s eyes were on her and, although physically he was several feet away, his gaze felt like a touch.

  Her father turned to smile at her. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  “Good morning. You guys save me anything to eat?” she managed.

  “What would you like?” Nick asked.

  For my hands to quit shaking, she thought, but replied, “Um, I think I’ll just get some cereal. Anybody need anything while I’m up?”

  They both shook their heads and she fled into the kitchen. While she poured herself a bowl of Raisin Bran, Dante came through the doorway, juggling a couple of plates and his coffee cup.

  “Here, give me those.” She took the dishes from his hands and stacked them in the sink. “You didn’t have to mess with that. I would’ve gotten them, or one of the maids—”

  “I’m a big boy. I can clean up after myself,” he said with a slow smile that made her heart flutter. She hurriedly turned away to retrieve a carton of milk from the refrigerator.

  He cleared his throat and said, “Look, Nadia … about last night …”

  Her stomach pitched at the serious tone of his voice. Here it was. He wasn’t any different after all. Nadia slammed the carton on the counter and closed her eyes.

  “So, I guess you’re leaving. Today? Right now?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, and cupped her shoulders with his big hands. Nadia tensed when he bent to kiss the top of her head. “Your father offered me a job.”

  “What?” she asked, hardly daring to breathe.

  “He wanted to know if I’d be your bodyguard.”

  “What did you tell him?” The thought of being around Dante, day in and day out, was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

  He laughed, that deep, sexy laugh of his that sounded like the rumble of thunder. “What do you want me to tell him?”

  “Say yes,” she blurted. “Say you’re not going to Indiana.”

  “Okay, I’m not going to Indiana.”

  “Easy as that?”

  “Easy as that.”

  He released her, and she poured milk over her cereal. Then she laughed.

  “What?” Dante asked, smiling.

  “You’re going to protect me?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and smiled up at him. “So, who’s going to protect you from me?”

  Who indeed? Dante thought a few hours later when Nadia skipped down the front steps in a pair of short, faded cutoffs and a yellow bikini top. Standing outside the barracks, Dante struggled to ignore her and listen to Nick Branson explain the guard rotation.

  Despite his best efforts, his gaze sought her out over Nick’s shoulder. Nadia gave him a secretive smile before taking a sip from the glass in her hand. She strutted over to the carport where Waynie was watching Ronnie check the oil in the Hummer. Nadia leaned into the big man and whispered something. Waynie gaped at her and vehemently shook his head.

  She set her glass on the Hummer’s hood and clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture. Ronnie scowled and snatched the glass away, rubbing the Hummer with the tail of his T-shirt. Waynie shot her a beleaguered look and shook his head again. Dante turned his attention back to Branson, wondering what she was planning.

  He didn’t have to wait long to find out. Waynie jogged over to them.

  “Mr. B,” he said breathlessly. “I’ve messed up my computer again. Do you think you could help me fix it?”

  “Do you mean right now?” Branson asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  Waynie shifted and tugged at his scraggly red beard. “Well, yeah, if you’re not too busy. As soon as you can anyway. I’ve got a paper due in Sociology Monday, and there’s an online poker tournament in a couple of hours that I’d like to get in on.”

  A paper due? Dante didn’t know what surprised him more: that the burly redhead knew how to use a computer, or that he was taking a sociology class.

  Nick sighed. “I suppose I can. We were almost finished here anyway.” He frowned at Dante. “If you have any questions about anything, ask Ronnie.”

  That’s exactly what Dante intended to do.

  So far, all of Dante’s fishing with Nick had turned up nothing. Nick wanted him to protect Nadia, but he was very vague about from whom. This whole situation felt off in some way, and Dante didn’t like it.

  One thing was becoming crystal clear, though. Nick Branson wasn’t the kind of man you messed around with. Although Dante was still puzzled by Nick’s relationships with his family and bodyguards, he’d glimpsed the coldness behind those dark eyes. Dante didn’t have to guess what would happen if he was caught trying to kidnap Nadia. Nick Branson would kill him without hesitation.

  Nadia slipped up behind her stepfather and linked her arm through his.

  “I’m going for a swim,” she announced. “Ronnie said he’d go with me. Waynie, are you coming?”

  “Would be a nice day for a swim, but I can’t,” Waynie said grumpily. “Mr. B is going to work on my computer for me. It’s started freezing up again. I guess Dante will have to go in my place.”

  Nadia glared at him emphasis, and Waynie dropped his head. He sighed. “I’m going to boot it up now.”

  Branson’s eyes narrowed. As Waynie shuffled inside the barracks, the corner of Branson’s mouth twitched. He snagged Nadia’s ponytail and gave it a gentle tug. “You think—you’re a clever girl, don’t you?”

  She stared up at him with twinkling green eyes and an impish smile. “Apparently not as clever as I thought.”

  Nick laughed and seized her in a brief, fierce hug. Then he kissed the top of her head and shooed her away. “Go, before I change my mind, you little sneak.”

  Dante watched with amusement. Whatever Vandergriff thought about Nick, he was wrong about one thing. Nick loved Nadia. He felt the connection between them. But Nick wasn’t the real threat—the meth dealer was. He was going to have to remember that.

  A laughing Nadia pushed Dante toward the barracks. “You heard what the man said. “Go change. Ronnie and I will meet you behind the house.”

  Inside the room Nick had assigned him, Dante remembered he didn’t have any shorts in his duffle bag. He hadn’t exactly figured on a pleasure trip. But Nadia was waiting, so he sat on the edge of the bed and sawed the legs of his blue jeans off at mid-thigh with his pocket knife.

  He found her in the backyard, adjusting her ponytail holder. A white bottle of Coppertone peeked out from the loose waistband of her shorts and, when he drew closer, the wind carried her sweet coconut smell to him. Her tan glistened in the sun, and once again Dante’s mind filled with thoughts he had no business thinking.

  “Hiya, handsome,” she said with a wink. “I hope you don’t mind us stealing you away. Nick’s had you busy for hours, so I thought a rescue mission might be in order.”

  Dante grinned. “Thanks. A swim sounds great. But where’s the pool?”

  “Pool?” Nadia scoffed. “You’re not in New York, mister. We do things different around here.”

  “Nadia, you do have a pool,” Ronnie pointed out, and Dante jumped. He hadn’t even noticed the bodyguard standing there. Man, he really had to focus.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, but what good’s an indoor pool in the summer? I like to feel the sun on my skin, the wind in my hair—”

  “You just like to make me freeze my ass off in that running water,�
�� Ronnie grumbled. He lifted the digital camera slung around his neck, snapped a picture of the big oak tree at the corner of the house, and headed to the woods.

  Nadia slid her hand in his, and Dante felt a little jolt at how good it felt there. How natural. He thought about Nick’s stipulation, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her. Instead, he gripped her hand tighter.

  Trailing behind Ronnie, they entered the woods.

  “It’s a waterfall,” she said, staring up at him with those jungle eyes. “Not a big one, but it’s still amazing. The most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen.”

  Dante squeezed her fingers. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  Her cheeks flushed, impossibly rendering her even more beautiful. She was such a strange combination of seduction and innocence, woman and child. He didn’t know what to make of her, but he knew he liked her. Liked her a lot.

  If he lived to be a hundred, would he ever hold another woman without seeing Nadia’s face?

  I don’t feel much of anything, but when you touch me … I feel you.

  He’d had women tell him they loved him—one or two of them might have even meant it—but none of their declarations had affected him like that one simple statement. He wanted to believe it was just something physical—that’s all it could be, right? But looking down at her, he thought, I could love you.

  Man, he was seriously losing it.

  They stepped into a clearing. Nadia released his hand and wandered over to an old bridge. He stared at her back, finding even her the jut of shoulder blades exciting.

  “The main road used to run through here,” Ronnie explained, drawing Dante’s attention to the faded gray road with weeds growing through the cracked asphalt. “But then they added the interstate a couple miles north of here and bisected this section out.” He leaned to peer around Dante. “Hey, Nadia, get down from there.”

  Dante glanced back to see her climbing onto the metal guardrail. Her shorts, shoes, and bottle of Coppertone lay in a pile near her feet.

  “Relax, Grandma,” Nadia said, and began walking the rail heel to toe like it was a tightrope. She staggered once and threw her arms out to balance herself. “Whew!” she said, and shot Ronnie a triumphant grin.