I Hate Myself For Loving You (Scorned Lovers Book 2)

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I Hate Myself For Loving You (Scorned Lovers Book 2) Page 2

by Simone Harlow


  “Amen sister.”

  Jane turned to see Paige Ernest standing in the door way. The sweet faced honey blonde was in her thirties and still got carded at bars. She could hack any computer and handle a sniper rifle like nobody’s business. They’d been besties since their West Point days. “What’s the word?”

  “The French told me to fuck myself.”

  “Fuck the French.” Irina said.

  Jane agreed. Cheap bastards probably didn’t want to pay. Her cell phone pinged and she checked her text. It was from the fifth member of the party Makeda Hadar, Irina’s lover and a former Israeli soldier. They’d met when Jane had done a joint mission with the Israeli army outside of Baghdad. Keda was great at covert ops and if you needed to blow some shit up she could do it with a rock and ball point pen.

  Jane read the one word on the screen. Done. That meant that she had landed in Sydney with Sanaa Amin and her children. “Keda and the package have arrived. Let’s get this over with. I need a bath and scotch.”

  She turned to Malik Amin and noticed fear in his eyes. Bastard knew this wasn’t going to end well for him. She smiled. “They’re going to break you and you’re going to tell them everything.” She said in perfect Arabic. “Do you know why I know this?” She patted his cheek. “Because you’re not one of the faithful. You like to pretend you are, but we know the truth. You don’t feel like a man unless you have a woman under your thumb. It’s ironic that it was women who fucked you over. Your wives, who can’t stand you, me and my girls, and I’m going to make sure that it’s a woman pulling your strings. When you’re sitting in a dirty cell with a probe up your ass I hope you think about your mistakes. You should have never married Sanaa, she might have been raised Muslim, but she’s American and you know what that does to a girl. You should have never tried to sell her twelve year old daughter to a pervert.”

  A tear rolled down his cheek. His day of reckoning had finally arrived. How many people his bombs killed no one would ever know. Since Bin Laden’s death he’d been on the run. He was supposed to be in Cuba until he could slip into Bolivia, but he made the mistake of trying to marry off one of his daughters to the wrong man. Sanaa had called Cindy Verdon, who ran a woman’s rights organization, and Cindy called Jane. The rest was history. Jane got a big payday, Cindy got a nice donation, Sanaa and her sister wives got their freedom and Malik’s money, the US got a big bad they’d been hunting for years, and Malik got what was coming to him.

  As they loaded up their prisoner, her cell pinged again. She got a text from her old major Mick Fernandez. After he retired, he opened up his own security firm. Jane did work for him occasionally, usually a high paying gig that wasn’t too bloody. She basically prevented some big wig from taking a bullet while wearing a dress or go after some high value felon.

  He had job a for her. She was going to turn him down, when his next text said she would be sorry if she did. He said he had a blast from the past. That intrigued her and she hated to turn down money. She had her eye on a sweet house in the Garden District that needed a lot of TLC. She sighed.

  “Down time is for sissies.”

  She told him to pick her up at the Belle Chasse Naval Air Station in four hours. She knew the entire team would have to be debriefed by the Feds and the Brits and that could take a while.

  * * *

  JANE HUGGED her friends thanked them for the help and then walked over to Mick’s black Escalade parked under a Spanish moss draped live oak. She opened up the door and his smile turned to a frown.

  “What the fuck is that smell?”

  “Hello to you too.”

  Mick was a handsome man. Dark haired and dark eyed with a dazzling Latin lover smile that drove the boys crazy. He taught Jane to be a soldier and he was a good friend. “You aren’t getting in my ride smelling like that.”

  Jane put her hand on her hip. She knew she didn’t smell girl pretty, but after the last two days she needed sleep more than a shower, besides she had to go pick up her gear at the hotel where she intended to shower. “I’m not getting any fresher.”

  “Where the hell you been?”

  “Cuba and then the bottom of a shrimp boat.”

  He reached behind the driver’s seat and threw a towel on the leather seat. “Do I want to know why you were in Cuba?”

  Uptight neat freak bastard. “I brought Malik Amin back for some American hospitality.”

  His eyes widened. “That had to be a major payday, you couldn’t invite a friend?”

  She felt a moment of guilt. If she’d have shown up with Mick and his boys, Sanaa Amin would have locked the front door and called it quits. “It was, but the lady who hired us only wanted women or you know I would have invited you.”

  “Why?”

  Over the last few years she’d called on Mick and his guys when she needed muscle and he’d hired her when he needed the feminine touch. “She’s his wife and still Muslim enough to not feel comfortable dealing with men.”

  He seemed to ponder that. “I forgive you because I snagged a major A list client.”

  She laughed. “Did Channing Tatum hire you?”

  Mick shook his head. “I can beat that.”

  This was interesting. “Who’s the client?”

  “Declan Shaw.”

  Holy crap. “Scorned Declan Shaw?”

  Mick started the car and pulled onto the main road. “Is there another?”

  She wished there was because where Declan Shaw went, Malcolm Elliot wasn’t far behind and she hated knowing that, because that meant she cared, which felt like a betrayal to her family. “Not really.”

  “Declan Shaw has a stalker.”

  That wasn’t surprising. A man that handsome and charismatic should have a legion of them. An actor she’d had as a client once told her that a stalker was proof he’d made it. He’d laughed about it until she tried to burn down his house with him in it. Did she want this job? “Probably the father of some poor girl he humped and dumped.”

  “It’s a woman.”

  Was she ready for this? To come face to face with Malcolm Elliot. “Is he there?”

  “He is. The band is working on the next album.”

  Jane wasn’t sure how to feel. Anger, curiosity, envy. There was nothing she could do about it. She prided herself on her ability to let go of the things she couldn’t control. “Oh.”

  “I just get an oh.” He turned on the road heading to New Orleans. “Don’t you want to meet him?”

  She stared out the window. Did she want to meet her half-brother? Did she want to run the of risk of Malcolm finding out who she was? If she met Malcolm, she might meet Fox Elliot and she’d be tempted to beat the crap out of Fox for abandoning her mother. There was always this corner of her brain that blamed Fox Elliot for her mother’s death, because if he’d put a ring on her even temporarily she might be alive. “I don’t know.”

  Mick grinned. “I don’t know is Jane for yes.”

  Damn he knew her to well. “I’m curious.”

  “Good, the job pays a hundred grand.”

  He knew she couldn’t resist cash. “What do I have to do?”

  “Don’t let Declan Shaw get dead and be sexy in a dress. You can handle that.”

  She’d done worse, she could deal with her half-brother. Did she want to? For the last ten years, she’d been curious about her biological family, she’d read articles, or catch some tidbit on the internet, but she’d never wanted to meet them. Half-brother number two, Grant, was in and out of rehab until he landed in jail for trying to mule enough coke to drop an elephant. Number one, Tate, was a porn director. Malcolm, the youngest of the Elliot brood, turned out okay, he just looked funny. As for Fox, she didn’t even want to think about her sperm donor. She’d landed on her feet and had a family that loved her, and that she loved more than anything. Finding her blood relations would seem like she’d missed something. She hadn’t, but still… “I can deal with my daddy baby.”

  “I have no idea what you just said
.”

  “You pay for the clothes, because skanky groupie wear is not my taste level. And if Declan Shaw is an asshole, I get an extra fifty large for not taking him out myself.”

  “Just don’t do it on my watch.”

  Now what fun would that be?

  Chapter Two

  SUCCULENT. Yeah that’s the right word. Everything about Jane Peterson was succulent, juicy. Maybe it was those plump cupid bow lips or the lush tits. Could be that beautiful round ass. Maybe the legs? Jesus they were long in the black cargo pants. She had to be six feet tall. She had these witchy green eyes that just burned right into his soul. The sable haired beauty reeked of raw power.

  Dear God when did they start making women like this? She was a Victoria Secret model who could kick ass. He knew he should be paying better attention to what she was saying because she might be the only thing to stand between him and death, but all he could think about was her and him in tangled sheets fucking. Dear God he was ready to come down his leg. But the best thing of all was that she was totally unimpressed with him. He liked that. He didn’t know why, he shouldn’t but he did. He hadn’t had a challenge in a while.

  “Mr. Shaw are you listening to me?”

  Her low sultry voice whispered over his skin. What did they call a voice like that … whiskey and cigarettes. She was a bad habit he wouldn’t mind having. He turned on the Golden God smile that melted panties from here to Tokyo. “Call me Declan.”

  One of those batwing eyebrows rose. “Did you hear what I said?”

  Nor was she amused by him. This was going to be fun.

  “Every word.” He didn’t really. Who could listen when all he could think about was burying his face in those tits. Were they real? Jane Peterson didn’t seem like the implants type.

  “What did I say?”

  She sounded like she was giving him an order. Did she know who he was? Did she care? She didn’t give a damn. “You want to use me as bait to catch my stalker.”

  “That was one thing.” She took a step close to him, never breaking eye contact. “Do you remember anything else?”

  That was as exciting as it was intimidating. Again, another novel feeling, the only woman who ever really unsettled him was Cherry, but at least Cherry liked him for the most part.

  Those green eyes were mesmerizing. Her nostrils flared. She was controlled but he’d made her mad. Which probably wasn’t a good idea since she was supposed to keep him breathing.

  “Well?”

  He wanted to take a step back, not because he felt threatened he just wanted to take her all in and commit it to memory so that when he did get her into bed he’d know where to start. Jesus she smelled good. Exotic and wild, like sex. Maybe a hint of jasmine. How was he supposed to concentrate on anything but bedding her?

  “Mr. Shaw?”

  “Ms. Peterson?” How did such an exotic honey get such a generic name?

  She studied him like a bug under a microscope. “Do you want to live?”

  The words were spoken slowly, as if he were an idiot. What kind of question was that? Of course he wanted to live. Why else would he hire a high price security service. These guys were supposed to be the best in this area. “Yeah.”

  She held up the bullet that had been left on his pillow. “This is a .45 caliber hollow point bullet just like the one on your pillow. This bullet was designed to inflict maximum damage. Where it enters your body it’s will leave a hole the size of a fifty cent piece. Where it leaves it’s going to leave one the size of your fist. You have big hands, and unless you’re shot outside of a fully staffed emergency room you’re going to die. Painfully.”

  She sounded as if she talked from personal experience. He had no idea there was a no bullshit bullet. “You don’t pull your punches do you?”

  She shook her head. “I do not.”

  He took one more glance at her cleavage and promised himself he’d be a better victim. “I’m sorry I was distracted.”

  “I wear a D cup. If my breasts are distracting you can close your eyes.”

  Awkward. He was so busted. He raised his eyes and gave her that mega-watt smile that made him a tabloid darling. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. You were saying.”

  She made an annoyed face again. “I’m not uncomfortable. I’m just thinking about what it’s going to say on your tombstone. He’d be alive today if he wasn’t gawking at his bodyguard’s rack and listened to what she said.”

  Declan sighed. She was right. Fuck it he was going with truth from now on with her. “They’re spectacular.”

  “They are, but they aren’t going to keep you breathing.”

  But those babies made him want to live. “My bad, Jane, may I call you Jane.”

  Jane rolled her eyes. “It’s going to sound strange you calling me anything else while I’m pretending to be your fuck buddy.”

  Even her cussing was hot. Damn this woman pushed all his buttons. Heat rolled in his belly, he had been without a playmate for nearly two weeks and it was grating on his nerves actually, with the exception of Travis, because he had Charlotte no one was getting laid around here. Charlotte was too polite to be a stalker. If she wanted him dead, she’d kill him with kindness and he’d be grateful because she was so nice. Fucking stalker was messing with his groove. “So you think if my stalker sees me with a steady woman she’ll come after me, make a mistake, and you will catch her?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Have you done this before?”

  “Several times.”

  She radiated confidence. What a turn on. “Your client survived?”

  She nodded. “And the stalker was caught.”

  He still had a hard time believing that she was here to protect him. “You’re going to put yourself between me and a crazy person?”

  “Yes.”

  There was just something unsettling about the fact that he had to be protected by a woman, not that he believed women couldn’t be tough, but, it played havoc with his pride. He didn’t like anyone poking his ego. He was the hero in his story. “By playing the new girlfriend?”

  “The new high profile girlfriend. We are going to go full press. You and I are going to be the new ‘it couple.’”

  “I can play that role, but how do you know it’s going to work?”

  “Stalkers don’t like anyone standing between them and the person they want. If we do this right they’ll come after me and I’ll stop them. You’ll go on with your life.”

  It was weird that she was so casual about it. The band always had security, but this level, that was restrictive. Besides his father no one had wanted to kill him, but his father hadn’t been crazy he’d been mean. “You make it sound easy.”

  A look of something like understanding crossed her face. “It isn’t.”

  She seemed to care. “How are you going to protect the rest of the band?” He stood there trying not to fidget.

  “Mick has people on every member of the band, because we don’t want any of them to be a means to an end for your stalker or for them to get hurt by standing in the way.”

  “I won’t have them put at risk.”

  She smiled. “If they follow the rules, they’ll be fine.”

  And that was the problem. They weren’t bad, but they didn’t follow rules. They were rock stars, they made them.

  “Promise?”

  She nodded. “Are they are okay with the rules we’ve set down?”

  No, they were all whining about having the pussy train put to a halt. At least they liked him enough not to want to see him dead, but he wasn’t sure how long that was going to last if they couldn’t get laid. “Everyone is cool with it.”

  There was that I-don’t-believe-you stare again. “If you’ve changed your mind, we could set you up someplace out of sight until the police catch her.”

  Hell no he wasn’t cancelling anything. He’d been dying to get out and do more performing and they’d been asked to do several charity events. He wasn’t going to le
t some crazy ass stalker make him live in fear. He'd done that once when he was a boy who couldn’t fight back, but he was a man now and that shit wasn’t going to play.

  He was Declan Shaw and he wasn’t going to let anyone get the better of him. And he got to hang with the sexiest woman on this side of world and she gave him a mission. He was going to make her like him. “I don’t want someone controlling me like that, besides we have an album to record and several events around town that we’ve already committed to.”

  She put her hand on her hip. “Did Mick go over your options?”

  “You caught me Jane, I wanted to spend time with you.”

  She let out a breath. “You’re going to get plenty ‘Jane’ time.”

  He smiled planning his seduction. “It’ll be fun.”

  “I knew it.”

  “What is that?”

  She sighed. “You like playing with danger.”

  “I’m going to like playing with you.”

  “What makes you think I’ll let you play with me?”

  He took a step closer, feeling the heat pulsing off her curvy body. “A boy’s got to have hope.”

  “You think if you charm me and flirt with me I’m going to let you do whatever you want don’t you?”

  He nodded.

  She jabbed a long finger at him. “For the most part I’m not going to impact your life too much, but do not alpha dog me. My bark is as bad as my bite. And I don’t bark. I’m the big bad bitch.”

  If that didn’t send a hot shiver of lust to his groin he would have had to check his pulse because he’d be dead. “Dogs like me. Not that I’m calling you a dog. You are more like a leopard. Sleek, beautiful, lethal.”

  “Leopards are ambush predators.”

  “You wouldn’t have to trap me.”

  She got in his face. “I’d run you to the ground and snap your neck.”

  Her eyes said she do it, but he didn’t miss that hint of a smile. Damn that was sexy. “Would you like to meet the rest of the band?”

  “Have they all been debriefed?”

  Talk that dirty talk to me he thought. “That sounds covert like you’re on a mission.”

 

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