Warrior Avenged

by Addison Fox

  “The continued efforts of this organization to bring and keep peace the world over are to be commended.”

  A small bead of sweat ran the length of her spinal column. The unease that had gripped her upon taking the stage spread through her again, morphing distinctly into fear as it did a merry dance along her stomach lining. What was wrong with her this evening?

  “Th-the belief in the equality of all humanity isn’t simply a noble cause. It’s a necessary one.”

  Montana made a pretense of pushing a lock of hair behind her ear as a way to wipe at the moisture covering her hairline. The move did little to make her feel better as the moments ticked by along with the words on her teleprompter. The normal rhythm that took over after her nerves calmed simply wouldn’t materialize. Instead, the small waves of panic began to grow larger and more pronounced.

  Feral.

  Shifting her gaze from the teleprompter to scan the rest of the room, Montana fought to keep her voice even and level. The words of her speech were so practiced, they were virtually memorized, and she used that shift into mental autopilot to her advantage.

  Quadrant by quadrant, she scanned the room, searching for something out of the ordinary as she allowed the benign words about corporate responsibility and what it meant to be the world’s largest shipping company float toward the audience. All that looked back at her was a sea of smiling faces, dressed to the nines and in various stages of happy, glowing, open-bar inebriation.

  Even as she told herself this reaction was silly, Montana’s gaze sought the corner where he had been. The tuxedoed man no longer stood against the wall, and for some reason, that small fact made the fear coursing through her system spike uncontrollably.

  Without warning, unease morphed into a desperate need to get out.

  The flicker of the teleprompter drew her attention brief moments before two things registered.

  A loud scream pierced the air as the room went black and a wave of static electricity washed over her with harsh, piercing needles. Montana reached instinctively to protect herself, wrapping her arms around her midsection and bending at the waist to stop the jagged pain coursing through her.

  Before she could even utter a sound, Montana felt large arms wrap around her just as her knees buckled from the pain. The last thing she felt before going utterly numb was the sensation of falling against a very large, broad chest as the man cushioned her suddenly lifeless limbs and dragged her to the ground.

  “Shhh. Don’t say a word.”

  Quinn felt the long, supple lines of the woman in his arms and—for the briefest of seconds—forgot the danger that surrounded Montana Grant like a haze of noxious smoke.

  Her luscious breasts pressed against his chest and his inner thigh lay against the taut lines of her outer leg where they sprawled as he’d fallen with her in his arms.

  What the hell was this woman involved in?

  Every instinct he possessed suggested she was anything but the peace-wielding, beloved-by-all heiress of Grant Shipping.

  The static that had gripped her from head to toe when Quinn first touched her was gone. The effect of his body, as well as the room’s sudden plunge into darkness, killed the field of view of her attacker. Almost immediately, she began to struggle, pushing at him, hissing in a dark, throaty voice still trying to recover from the unexpected electric charge. “Get off me!”

  “Shhh, Heiress. Not yet.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” Her words spewed anger, but at least she could do no more than whisper them.

  Quinn tightened his grip on her, well aware the he-man routine wasn’t going to win him any points in the “trust me” department. “Your savior, unless you insist on struggling away from me.”

  “What do you want?”

  “A really good corned-beef sandwich. An ice-cold beer. World peace. I’m relatively easy to please.”

  The hotel’s generator kicked in and a dull grayish wash of light filled the room. Montana’s bright blue eyes never left his, her long lashes framing a stubborn gaze. “Who are you?”

  “Quinn Tanner, Emerald Security. At your service.”

  He shifted slightly, moving off of her but still keeping her body shielded from the ballroom. He suspected her attacker had moved on, but he wasn’t taking any chances until he could check out the room himself.

  Extending a hand and helping her into a sitting position, he couldn’t resist adding, “I’m your new shadow, sweetheart.”