Asher looked at Jenny. She snoozed quietly. Looked so innocent, though last night had proved that wrong. He would’ve whistled if he didn’t have to explain why. The woman’s sizzle was almost too much. Almost. But he’d take it. He smiled. Yeah, he’d take it every minute of the day.
He scrolled through the rest of his e-mails. Campaign team, more campaign team. More scrolling. A lot of e-mails overnight. Then again, he hadn’t checked his e-mail since he’d jumped off the train. There was an e-mail from Molly, subject line, “Heads up.” Nope, not in the mood for bad news. It could wait. Scrolling through more e-mail, finally, press clips.
Typical headlines. News on his opponent. News on the poll numbers. Typical. Everything that would be addressed on the conference call—well, whoa. What was, “McIntyre and Mystery Brunette”? Jenny. Guess Ricky hadn’t gotten all the pictures taken care of.
That was also what Molly had probably e-mailed him about. His sister was sure to have press clips and a Google Alert set up to track his name.
He clicked the link open and scanned. Nothing overly interesting. A cell phone-snapped picture and references to Jenny’s attractiveness and reluctance to leave.
He bet the “reluctance to leave” line would be fodder for gossip blogs and that his campaign team would say things like they should jump in front of the problem. Maybe issue a statement that Asher McIntyre respected women. The reactions sometimes were worse than just explaining the truth. His girl didn’t want to leave the party in her honor, but some people had been dicks and ruined the night for her. Glad I made it better, though.
He chuckled, taking it more in stride than he should, then leaned over and kissed her shoulder. “We’ve been ousted.”
She shushed him and nuzzled into her pillow.
“There’s a picture.”
Jenny slowly propped up on elbows. Her eyes were sleepy and hair disheveled. All in all, a great look on her, minus the annoyed pinch of her brows. “Picture? From one of the cell phones?”
He handed the phone over.
“Oh, this is bad, isn’t it? For you? Politics isn’t my thing, but this isn’t great, right?”
He shrugged. “Seen worse.”
She scrolled down and back up again. “They make you sound like a caveman, yanking me out of a bar.”
“They said you were hot.” He took the phone and tossed it toward the end of the bed. “Can’t fault them for the truth.”
“God, if I’d just walked out, none of this—”
“You can’t second-guess yourself, and you know that everything I do is tracked by the local news.”
She rolled her eyes then tried to smooth her hair. “Yeah, the man who hits every eligible bachelor list in the United States is tracked by just the local news.”
Shit. What was he thinking? This picture pinpointed exactly where Jenny was and that she meant more to him than just his little sister’s best friend.
His phone rang, but he ignored it. A gut feeling said nothing good was on the other end of that call.
“Hey.” Jenny rolled to face him. “You okay?”
The phone rang again. He rubbed his face. Everything he did was calculated, but last night was not, and the sudden realization of the repercussions made his stomach sink. He grabbed the phone. Caller ID showed FBI Agent Murphy. He accepted the call and closed his eyes.
Asher took a deep breath. “Think I have a problem.”
Jenny’s face fell, mumbling, “Guess not.”
“Yeah, I’ll say,” Murphy grumbled. “You didn’t mention that Jenny Chase was more than your little sister’s best friend. That changes a few things.”
“It’s a recent development.”
Murphy laughed. “Yeah, well, guess those things happen. You also didn’t mention that Jenny Chase is the sister-in-law of Jared Westin.”
Asher’s mind stumbled, and he coughed. “Excuse me?”
“Guess you’re having quite the morning, aren’t you, Congressman?”
His mind reeled. Habit almost had him correcting Murphy to call him Asher, but the bigger concern was Jared Westin. “I’ll call you back.”
He hung up, dropped the phone, and rubbed his temples. “Sugar married Jared Westin?”
Jenny nodded. “Yeah. Why?”
His mind raced. Jared Westin ran Titan Group, and they were more than qualified to protect Jenny than half the FBI. Given Titan’s leeway with the law and its connections with everyone from the president to the director of the CIA, it would’ve been beneficial to know. That, and Jared would want to know if there was a threat against Jenny. The man had a ruthless bastard streak to him, and Asher was sure not being filled in on threats to extended family didn’t conjure up a good attitude.
He pinched his eyes shut. Actually, why hadn’t Titan shown up unannounced for protective detail? Only one reason.
“You didn’t mention the notes to Sugar?”
Jenny shook her head. “She’s just back from her honeymoon. Why get her in a tizzy?”
His stomach churned. He was very good at his job. Titan was very good at theirs. Much better than any resource Asher could call up, and he was man enough to admit that. “Because you were threatened. Because I can’t be with you twenty-four hours a day, and Titan can offer far more in terms of protection than I can sleeping on your couch.”
“You didn’t sleep on the couch last night.” Her smile flirted with him as she played the innocent card. “Besides, I don’t think that’s what Titan does. They take out war lords and cartel kings or whatever.”
“Trust me when I say no one really knows exactly what Titan does.” He checked the time and was a minute late for the campaign call. “Forget what you think you know about them, and call your sister.”
***
Jenny groaned and stared at her phone. Calling Sugar was never the easiest ordeal. She was pushy, and once her mind was set on something, it didn’t matter what Jenny said.
Working with Sugar at GUNS was fun. But telling her that a stalker had snapped a photo of Molly and Jenny at Disney World? Not fun.
Nor would the inquisition be when she told Sugar that after years of pining after Asher McIntyre, he’d spent the night in her bed. At least she could tell Sugar about the part in Tassels and Tangos. Jenny nodded. Sugar would love the performance for no other reason than costumes were going to be unbelievably outrageous.
Speaking of which… Jenny climbed out of bed and wrapped a sheet around her. It was too early to call anyone. God, what time did Asher start working? It wasn’t even eight yet. She watched him pace in the living room, wearing his boxer briefs from yesterday. That man had a killer body. A smile curved onto her cheeks, and she stared. In a million years, this wouldn’t have been the way she pictured her first morning in her temporary apartment.
He must’ve felt her gaze because he stopped and turned to her. That face, whoa, and that chest… There was a reason he’d always made those magazine lists and, for as long as she’d known him, never had a problem finding a date.
He covered the phone. “You okay? Talk to Sugar?”
“Calling.” She shook the phone in her hand but went to the kitchenette to see if a furnished apartment came with food.
He went back to pacing. “There’s nothing to talk about. End of discussion. Move on.”
Yeah, he was talking about the picture. Last night had been special for her and fun for him. But her mind started ticking. How could he date an actress who played a tassel- and glitter-wearing burlesque dancer and still win his upcoming election? She wasn’t a campaign genius, but it seemed like bad public relations for him.
“There’s nothing to address. Nothing to define. Can we get back to how the latest focus group reacted to whatever they reacted to? Don’t you have some fundraiser I need to know about?” His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, and he looked up.
Busted. She busied herself in an empty kitchen. Furnished apartments didn’t come stocked with food. At least hers didn’t.
Asher p
added over, still only in his boxer briefs. Her sheet was still wrapped around her. They made quite the pair.
He whispered, “It’s not a big deal. Don’t look so worried.”
She didn’t believe him but nodded. “I’ll call Sugar now.” Because waking her up and dropping this bomb on her would be as much fun as listening to Asher talk about how there was nothing worth defining when it came to her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jenny rubbed her eyes and wished her duffel bag had made it to the apartment. Until she was able to get it, she had no face wash, no makeup, and no clean clothes.
But she did have her sister on the phone, and the familial inquisition was reaching a boiling point. Sugar said something to someone in the background. Jenny could only assume it was Jared, and why that made her uneasy, she couldn’t pinpoint. Titan was just a little overwhelming. Some of Sugar’s customers purchased antique pistols. Titan bulk-ordered special-order grenade launchers.
Sugar came back to the phone. “Walk me through this one more time, Jenny.”
She sighed. “Okay—”
“Jenny.” Jared had the phone now. Her brother-in-law wasn’t scary until he was pissed off. Right about now, he sounded pissed. Probably not at her. But still, the scary attitude was loud and clear. “I’ll have a team in New York to meet with you and McIntyre by the afternoon.”
“I have rehearsals.” And she had no idea why she said that lame-ass excuse, other than everyone starting to treat her like her life was really in danger made it seem... really in danger.
Jared laughed, but it sounded a little like a grumble. “A wannabe Special Forces nutcase takes a picture of you, and you think your rehearsals are going to slow my men down?”
“Um, no.”
“Smart girl.” Sugar said something in the background, but Jenny couldn’t hear it. Jared continued, “So you and Asher McIntyre?”
Her cheeks burned. The whole world apparently wanted to ask that question, and she didn’t really know what to say or what Asher thought. Like all of a sudden, it was a topic of conversation when she had barely come to grips with the man even wanting to kiss her. And that had been yesterday.
“Maybe. I don’t know…”
…why I’m talking to Jared about Asher?
…how to respond to that question?
…what I hope Asher’s answer to Jared’s question would be?
There were a million ways she could finish that sentence. For as confident as she’d felt last night, this morning was a cold splash of uncertainties.
“McIntyre’s not stupid. Neither are you. But if he hurts you, he’ll never see Election Day.”
Oh. “I, um…”
Jared laughed. “Looks like you got the older brother you never wished you had, kid. Blame Sugar.”
Asher’s call had ended, and he walked over to her. “That’s Sugar?”
“Jared,” she whispered.
Jared growled in her ear. “That McIntyre?”
“Yes,” Jenny said into the phone. “He had me call you guys. Guess he was making sure I did it.”
Jared grunted, but it sounded like an approving sound. “Guess not all politicians are morons. Until my boys show up, don’t leave that man’s side.”
She watched Asher stretch as he walked back toward the bedroom. No problem.
***
Asher kept an eye on Jenny while he sat with Ricky and two men who came from Titan. Roman and Rocco. They seemed like decent guys, though they had only arrived two minutes ago, and he hadn’t felt them out yet. But Asher approved of their give-me-a-reason-to-kill-you- look and was a fan of anyone who walked in the door with a plan. No pleasantries. Just a this is what we’re going to do.
Plus, Jenny had met them at Sugar’s wedding reception. Judging by the men’s demeanors, they were personally affronted that Maxwell had stepped inside their world and threatened someone they knew. Asher approved.
Rocco shifted in the theatre’s auditorium chair. “So that’s our plan. Ricky stays in place. We stay nearby after running through a few quick security measures. FBI tracks Maxwell down, and we’ll all be home by the end of the week.”
Ricky nodded to him. “Mr. Congressman.” He twirled a string of sequins around his finger and snapped it at Asher’s knee. “How might you be staying safe while all this is happening?”
He’d been waiting for Ricky to ask that. Murphy had asked as well when Asher had spoken with him earlier about Titan Group picking up the lead on Jenny’s protective detail. She was a bigger target now that a few reports decreed her a “newsworthy flame.”
“Flavor of the week,” as some jerk blogger had said. Asher had given his pit bull of a press secretary the go-ahead to tear that asshole apart.
The phone he used for campaign work buzzed. The other cell phone he carried for official business did the same. Ricky’s phone rang. They both looked away from the stage and to their phones. Rocco and Roman looked at them. The timing was odd.
The fire alarm blared. Roman and Rocco jumped up. Ricky stepped to Asher, no longer playing the acting-choreography coach but morphing into the well-trained man that Asher knew well.
His stomach sank. Impending disaster was striking. Both Titan men were taking several steps at a time down the theatre’s aisle toward the practice stage. Actors had stopped on stage, and a few covered their ears. Crew members walked onto the stage. It was a cacophony of people in mass hysteria.
The fire sprinklers turned on overhead. The emergency lights lit, and stage lights died.
In the blinking lights and under the water pouring from the ceiling, smoke began to fill the stage. The smoke floated and swirled under the gyrating lights. The sirens were too loud to shout over.
People began to run and call for help. Someone slipped in the water.
One second, Asher could see Jenny blinking on stage under a strobe light. The next, his eyes caught a man on stage, mixed in with the crew, who focused on Jenny. The only person who wasn’t reacting to the craziness.
“Maxwell!” Asher shouted and pointed to Ricky, to the Titan men who were jumping on stage.
He pushed his way out of his aisle to the stairs. An explosion sounded at the back of the theatre; the lights went black. An eruption of screams staggered through the theatre.
Two beams of light illuminated on the stage. Had to be Roman and Rocco. They flashed all directions, then the overhead lights came back on.
Jenny was gone.
Ricky hustled Asher down the stairs and opposite from Roman and Rocco. He struggled to head toward stage. “Get your hands off me.”
“Move your ass, Ash.”
“Damn it, Richard.”
“Move. Outside. Let Titan handle Jenny. I need to get you secure.”
“Me? Secure? Fuck that—”
“Deal I made with Murphy. Move your ass, Congressman.”
Fuck Ricky and Murphy. He should’ve known, having dealt with FBI and private security too many times before. They would talk, make their own plans. Asher was the man they wanted to protect. The public official who the FBI wouldn’t let down. “You fucking played me.”
“No, brother. I didn’t. But you bet your congressional pin that it’s in my job duty to keep you safe as well.”
They made it outside, completely soaked and stinking like a fog machine. Asher scrubbed his hands over his face, into his hair, furious. He paced in place. Glared at Richard. And he waited. Roman or Rocco would give them an update. Explain that they had killed Maxwell in the hallway. Something. Anything.
His phone rang, and he answered it on the first ring. “What?”
“Now there’s something in play that we both want.”
A chill ran down Asher’s spine. He roared into the phone, but the line was dead.
***
Jenny came to, soaking wet in a dark space. The hum of road noise and the occasional illumination of red lights along the back panel delivered the bad news. She was stuffed in a car trunk, wearing a practice costume. A black
bustier, glittery boy shorts, and high heels that would make the burlesque world proud. Not the best run-and-escape outfit, and she sure wouldn’t be blending into a crowd if she did get out in public.
Two immediate options popped to mind. Kick out a tail light and stick her foot out the trunk. That would surely get someone’s attention. Or she could wait until they stopped somewhere and scream until a passerby heard and called for help.
She opted not to wait and began kicking. The tail light didn’t budge. Not as easy as it looked on television. Every pothole and sharp turn jarred her. The air was warm and stuffy and seemed to worsen with each passing hour.
It had to be hours. Right? Where were they going?
Eternity passed, and finally the car stopped for longer than a red light. The engine cut off, and her stomach tightened. She might throw up.
But that wouldn’t help her.
Get it together, Jenny!
She sucked down a weak breath and willed her nerves to quiet down. They only semi-listened. A lock clicked, and the trunk popped. She jumped up to the same man who’d offered to be her acting coach and who matched a photo Asher had shown her that morning. Maxwell.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doesn’t matter to you.”
Jenny tried to scamper out of the trunk, but his thick arm caught her. She blinked under the pressure on her neck and threw her hands in the air. He would knock her out again. She remembered that was how he’d done it the first time.
“Sorry,” she choked out. “Shouldn’t have done that.”
His arm released, and she looked around, for the first time realizing where they were. I’m at home? The car was parked in the alley behind her apartment. But why?
He dragged her to the back entrance and jimmied the door open then did the same to her apartment and walked in. The most comforting place in her whole world now appeared dark and menacing. The man kept the lights off and pushed her on to the couch.
The Titan Series 1-3 Boxed Set Page 93