To Love and Protect

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  Not long ago, he’d told himself he was lucky he hadn’t done something as stupid as fall for her all those years ago. But he’d been lying to himself. He’d loved her then, and loved her even more so now. He’d managed to not give in after that inferno of a kiss, but as soon as he was no longer her bodyguard, all bets were off.

  Speaking of which, he refocused his attention and opened the folder to flip though to where he and Rey had left off. Shelby’s phone alarm sounded faintly from the bedroom about six, and by then Dev had marked two letters in particular he wanted the PI to look into further.

  She shuffled out in her slippers a few minutes later, sleepy-eyed with her hair slightly mussed. Cute and sexy all at once.

  He closed the folder and tucked it away before turning to pour her a cup of coffee. Then he slid it and the container of sea salt caramel hot chocolate she’d brought from her place across the island as she slumped down onto one of the stools.

  “Thanks.” She dumped a heaping scoop of hot chocolate into her cup and stirred. “I slept like a rock.”

  Good. He loved knowing she felt safe enough for that. “You had a long day yesterday.”

  “Thank God I’m not on the surgery floor today,” she mumbled before blowing across the surface of her cup and taking a sip.

  When she gave a closed-eyed hmm of pleasure, Dev had to look away. A quickly snuck glance caught sight of her tongue flicking out to catch the drip on her bottom lip, and he wished he could be the one to lean over and lick it off.

  He turned away to top off his half-empty cup.

  “How long have you been up?” she asked.

  Since about five seconds ago, and half the night before that.

  He thumped the coffee pot back on the burner and attempted casual by leaning back against the cupboard. “About an hour.”

  “Still those military hours?”

  He smiled slightly, because it was close enough.

  She took another sip before straightening in her chair, her expression suddenly determined. “What was the deal with that folder yesterday? I meant to ask you about it last night, but you distracted me with the self-defense.”

  “You don’t miss much, do you?”

  “Nope.”

  Dev sighed and brought the folder back out. He stepped forward and placed it on the counter, but kept his palm on the top when she reached for it. “This is only because I promised to be straight with you.”

  “And I appreciate that.” She gripped the edge between her thumb and forefinger and tugged.

  He kept his hold. “These are copies of death threats and other borderline letters sent to your dad.”

  She stopped pulling, her brown gaze somber as it rose to his.

  “The choice is yours, but I don’t think you should read them. They’re not…nice.”

  “What death threat is?”

  He let go of the folder and watched closely as she opened it to read the top letter. Emotions chased across her face and left a deep crease in her forehead. She flipped to the second page, but slammed the whole thing closed about five seconds later. A quick shove of her hand spun the folder back in his direction.

  “God, people can be so horrible.” She was still frowning as she took a gulp of her coffee. “I knew he got stuff like that, but didn’t know how bad it was. Is.”

  “I’m sure your parents don’t want you to worry about them. And they’re not all as bad as those top ones. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent of the time it’s just idiots venting their anger.”

  “Yeah, but all it takes is that point-o-one percent to be more than an idiot blowing off steam, doesn’t it?”

  “That’s why your parents have their own protection.”

  She nodded, then sought his gaze once more. “Why do you have these letters?”

  “Gus was going through them to see if there could be any connection to whoever’s been bothering you. I offered to be a second pair of eyes.”

  “And?”

  Even though he’d promised to tell her everything, he still hesitated. After seeing her reaction to just a couple of the threats, he worried that admitting he saw the possibility of two connections would magnify her anxiety.

  She watched him over the rim of her cup as she took a sip. “You found something, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe,” he reluctantly admitted. “I was going to call Gus to see if he saw the same thing and have him check it out.”

  Her gaze flicked down to the folder, and after a moment, she squared her shoulders. “Which one?” When he didn’t move right away, she reasoned, “If the connection is to me, maybe I can confirm it.”

  He sighed slightly, then located one of the letters toward the back that had stood out the most and passed it over.

  Her gaze skimmed back and forth, her frown returning as she read out loud, “‘Until you lose a child, you can never fully understand the responsibility you have to do what’s right for the survivors. It is our duty as parents to protect our children. You must advocate for them, or you will be replaced with someone who will.’” She sat back and stared at the paper. “It’s so articulate. Not like the other one where every other word was a swear word.”

  “Yeah. Those—and most of the others—generally tend to be the hotheads blowing off steam. It’s the present-tense wording that elevates it from implied to actual threat. In my opinion anyway.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she leaned in to look closer again. “When was it sent?”

  “It’s older—from right after your dad became governor.”

  “That was six years ago.”

  “I still want to have Gus look further into who sent it—if he hasn’t already.”

  “Surely it would’ve been dealt with by now?” she asked.

  “Everything in that folder has been investigated by either the Colorado police, or the Capitol police, and prosecuted as needed. But it’s the wording that caught my attention.”

  “‘Until you’ve lost a child’?”

  “Yeah. The man’s daughter was killed in a shooting a year before he sent the letter.”

  Shelby frowned. “That’s horrible.”

  “It is,” Dev agreed. “And he was determined not to be a threat at the time, but with your dad’s strong stance on the second amendment and everything heating up on gun control laws, maybe it’s got the guy stewing again and looking for someone to blame. Or for revenge. Or to make your dad understand by going after one of his kids.”

  Not to mention, all the little incidences with Shelby had started suspiciously close to the anniversary of the daughter’s death.

  She stared into her cup in silence.

  “I’m not saying that to scare you, I just want you to be aware.”

  After one last drink, Shelby slid off the stool while setting her cup down. “I’ll make sure I’m done with work on time today so we can get in double time on the self-defense.” An arch of her eyebrows followed. “If you’re good with that?”

  Approval surged forward as he nodded.

  That’s my girl. Don’t back down.

  Chapter 21

  About an hour before Shelby’s shift ended later that afternoon, Dev set his magazine aside and hurried to hold the hospital clinic door open for a petite, older woman hobbling in on crutches with her left foot in a boot.

  Her blue eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled her appreciation. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  “I didn’t know the clinic had gotten themselves a doorman. What a classy touch.”

  Dev smiled that she thought he was a doorman in his boots, jeans, and unzipped black fleece jacket over a black T-shirt. But he didn’t correct her—no sense alarming an old lady.

  With no animal in sight, he asked, “Are you picking up?”

  “My grandson is parking the car. He’ll bring Pixie in with him in just a moment.”

  Dev glanced back in time to see a guy step back from a pearl white Cadillac SUV as a large black and tan Rottweiler jumped down from the bac
k seat.

  Pixie?

  “Mrs. Walters!” Shelby’s voice exclaimed. “What did you do? Are you okay?”

  Dev turned back to see she’d come through the double doors from the back, her expression concerned as she greeted the older lady.

  “Oh, I’m fine. Just twisted my ankle on a patch of ice.”

  Shelby flicked her gaze to Dev, gave him a quick smile that put a warm glow in his chest, then looked past him as she asked, “Where’s Pixie?”

  Dev caught the slight falter in her smile and turned to see what caused the reaction. His whole body stiffened at the sight of Chad Mayer on the other end of the Rottweiler’s leash.

  “There she is now,” Mrs. Walters said. “My grandson insisted on chauffeuring me today.”

  Mayer opened the door, his gaze bouncing between the three of them standing there. Shelby bent as the dog rushed forward, stub of a tail wiggling along with its big, solid butt.

  “Hello there, Pixie. How you doing girl?” She gave the dog a rub by the jowls while tilting her head to glance up. “Hey, Chad.”

  Dev heard the forced smile in her voice and instinctively eased closer. Mayer shot him one more glance before giving her a friendly grin.

  “Shelby, hey. I forgot you worked here.”

  Bullshit.

  “You two know each other?” Mrs. Walters asked.

  Oh, boy. There was definitely matchmaker’s hope in that question.

  “We do,” Shelby answered, her voice bright and cheerful as she extended her hand for the dog’s leash without explaining how. “Let’s get Pixie in for her pedicure so I can stay on schedule.”

  The moment Mayer reached toward her, Dev shot his hand out and took the leash. Giving the guy a stern glare, he passed the leather handle to Shelby.

  Mrs. Walters laughed, oblivious to the tension. “Ginny from my bridge group has a huge Golden Doodle with bright pink toenails.”

  “Oh, my.” Shelby straightened and started for the back, her step slow enough for the woman to keep up on her crutches. “Sorry, but we don’t do pink here.”

  When Mayer started after them, Dev stopped him with a hand to his chest, and pointed toward the chairs in the waiting area. “You can wait right over there.”

  The guy stepped back with a frown. “What is your problem?”

  “No problem. We’re just going to let Bells do her job, and then you can take Grandma and Pixie back home.”

  A tick flickered near Mayer’s eye with Dev’s purposeful use of Shelby’s nickname. That vibe he’d gotten the first time he saw him twinged harder than ever as Mayer stalked over to take a seat. Dev stood right where he was until Shelby walked Mrs. Walters and Pixie back out a half-hour later. Then he took the leash to pass back to Mayer. No way was he going to let the guy even get close enough to touch her.

  After paying her bill, Mrs. Walters made her way toward the exit on her crutches. Shelby stayed behind the counter, and Dev moved ahead to get the door with a conscious effort to not reveal any evidence of his limp.

  The woman smiled her appreciation, and then said over her shoulder to Shelby, “Thank you again so much, dear. We’ll see you in a couple of months.”

  “Without the boot,” she replied. “Take care of yourself and watch out for ice patches.”

  “Oh, believe me, I will.”

  Pixie pulled on her leash to follow, but Mayer held her back long enough to say, “Always good to see you, Shelby.”

  She smiled, and again, Dev read the discomfort in the tight lines at the corners of her mouth.

  The guy was smart enough to follow his grandmother out to her vehicle without another word.

  Once the front door was closed, Dev pivoted to join Shelby on her way to the back. “Has he been here before?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t even know he was her grandson. Though she did mention having one the last two times.”

  “I don’t like that guy.”

  A grin curved her mouth as she straightened up the exam room. “Never woulda guessed.”

  Dev shrugged. Yeah, he might have overdone the bodyguard role, but just the thought of Mayer looking at her the wrong way had him ready to kick his ass.

  Shelby braced one hand on the table, the other on her hip. “Anyways, he’s gone, and I’m done for the day. Get me out of here before an emergency comes in.”

  He swept his arm toward the door. “As you wish.”

  She grabbed her things from the break room, and they walked out to his truck.

  “You ready for your next lesson?” he asked.

  “Ready and willing.”

  The eagerness in her voice skipped his mind clear over self-defense, straight to the bedroom. The word willing didn’t help one damn bit. It had him picturing that sexy little satin slip from back when she was sixteen.

  “Although…” At the passenger door, Shelby gave him a head tilt and eyebrow arch that was becoming very familiar. “Isn’t there something you wanted to ask me first?”

  He paused with his fingers curled around the door handle. “And what would that be?”

  “Dinner at your parents’?”

  Well, crap. Dev jerked open the door, his jaw tightening. “Mom texted you,” he guessed as she climbed inside.

  “She did,” Shelby confirmed. “And I said—”

  He slammed the door on what she said. Because of course, after he’d answered his mom’s text about dinner with a no, she’d gone behind his back because she knew Shelby would say yes.

  Her gaze had him tingling with awareness every step of the way around the front of his truck. As soon as he opened the door, she finished her sentence.

  “I said yes.”

  “I thought you wanted to put in extra time on self-defense.”

  “We can do both,” she argued. “I had to switch the vet check with Grayson to tomorrow, but we don’t have to be there until ten. So we can work late and sleep in.”

  “Easy for you to say,” he groused as he started the engine and drove toward the exit. “I haven’t slept in in over ten years.”

  She shrugged lightly. “I can always text her back if you want. It’s just that I haven’t seen them much since moving out of my parents’ place, and I thought it would be nice to sit and visit.”

  And once again, he couldn’t say no to Shelby.

  After she changed into a pair of skinny jeans and a soft, cream-colored sweater back at his house, they were on their way again—with a detour for dessert at her sister-in-law’s bakery, Must Love Frosting.

  “I’m shocked Mom asked you to bring anything,” he commented. While his mother never went anywhere empty-handed, she also never asked guests to bring anything to her house.

  “I insisted,” Shelby said. “And I know she loves Honor’s tiramisu.”

  They ended up with the tiramisu, and a half-dozen assorted cupcakes loaded with two inches of buttercream. He eyed the mountain of sugar as he carried the bakery boxes out to his truck. “That’s insane.”

  “Insanely good,” she countered. “Have you had one of her cupcakes before?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “They’re the best. Seriously.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” He handed over the boxes once she was in her seat. “You can get a cavity just looking at one of those things.”

  “It’s worth it,” she declared.

  Dev shook his head, until he remembered Asher’s wife had baked Loyal and Roxanna’s wedding cake and yeah, it had been fucking amazing. He’d barely resisted a second piece.

  When they reached his parents’ house, he knocked first, but didn’t wait for them to come to the door before walking in with a loud, “Hello!”

  In the next instant, the savory scent of onion and garlic and fresh bread filled his senses. He gave a low groan while taking Shelby’s coat to hang with his on the coat tree tucked in the entranceway corner.

  “Wow, it smells amazing in here,” she said.

  “Empanadas,” he said with
reverence. “I haven’t had them in ages.”

  “I made them just for you, mijo.”

  Dev turned around with a smile. “Mamá.”

  He leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek and a hug. When she squeezed hard and held on a few extra moments, he was reminded of Shelby’s comment the other night about how his mom worried about him and Reyes—and likely Solana, too. A twinge of guilt had him tightening his hold for a brief moment, too. They hadn’t made it easy on her or his dad with their profession choices, had they?

  Finally his mom let go, and moved to give Shelby a hug. There was a quick exchange of whispers with their smiles, but he chose to ignore it when he heard his mom’s heartfelt, “Thank you.” He could hardly complain about a little scheming when it got him homemade empanadas and made them both happy.

  His dad offered beer or sangria when they all joined him in the kitchen. Shelby took the sangria, but Dev declined. No alcohol for him until the job was done. Instead, he moved to the cupboard to grab a glass for water while his parents returned to their in-tandem cooking. He’d grown up watching them fairly dance together in the kitchen. And then there were the times they literally danced while the sauce simmered.

  “Is Rey coming, too?” he asked.

  “No.” His mom reached up to brush away a dark strand of hair that had escaped the bun at the nape of her neck, her brow furrowed. “He made up some excuse about working on his taxes.”

  He heard the hurt in her voice, underscored by concern. When he glanced at Shelby leaning against the counter with her glass in hand, she gave him an I told you look. He turned back to see his dad graze his mom’s arm with his knuckles. She leaned into the gesture as if needing the comfort of his touch.

  Dev set his water down and moved up on the other side of his mom. “You don’t have to worry, Mamá. Rey’s working on things, same as me.”

  She huffed out a breath and twisted to face him, knife in hand. “Of course I worry, Devante. Your father and I both do when you and Reyes hold yourselves at arm’s length. Neither of you have been here for family dinner since Christmas, and you’re only here tonight because of Shelby.”