“I don’t sashay.” Laughter sneaks through her softening whimpers, a budding smile lightening her expression. “And, there wasn’t anything sweet about it. I was ready to throat punch you. My Dad needed to know about the—”
“And as you remember, I already knew and was going to tell them as soon as the meeting ended.”
“You’re so fucking arrogant.”
She gives him an eye roll, but there’s humor infused in her irritation. Because she knows he’s right and loves making up as much as he does. Except this time, they have to use their words rather than their bodies. Which as much as he wants her – God does he fucking want her – love making has to wait until her stomach and her mind heal. “You’re so fucking amazing.”
“Vamos acabar com isso.”
The guy’s return saves him from her feisty rebuttal. She slides back and lifts her dress too fucking high. His fingertips pushing the hem lower earns him another smirk but he doesn’t give a damn. This man’s already seen enough of his woman’s skin.
“When did you turn all caveman on me?”
“Always have been. I’ve just been good at hiding it.”
Another chuckle from his wink releases the remaining tension in his taut muscles. Her body as relaxed as his. They’ve made it back to each other. “I love you.”
This assertion comes through without hesitation, matching his own. “I love you too.”
Her grip tightens as the needle punctures her skin again, but her gaze remains on his. Surprisingly content despite the pain.
“I told Bruno I choose you.”
His body flames at her whisper. Fucking shit. She may be drunk, yet there isn't any slur in her words. Or confusion in her declaration. His fingers clutch hers so tight she winces from his grip rather than the tattoo. He forces himself to take a deep breath and release his crushing grasp. “What are you talking about?”
“He said I had to choose between you and them. I picked you."
They are so completely fucked. He wants to scoop her up, start planning their escape, get her the fuck out of here. But he can't break away from the absolute conviction in her eyes. Mesmerized by her bliss as they lock with his. "Why?”
“Because I wasn't going to let him treat you like an asshole any more. He said you're the reason Daddy's dead. I couldn't let him blame you. Not after everything you've done for me."
Her burden lifts, unaware of the danger she puts herself in. The rabid revenge her brother will attempt to satisfy his hatred of both of them now. He jerks his head toward the tattoo artist and starts tapping on his phone. "Tell him we have to go. Tell him to hurry!"
"Why? What's going on?"
He jams the cell against his ear. Willing the pilot to pick up. Luckily he answers on the first ring. "We're leaving now. Be ready as soon as we get there."
"Yes, sir."
The tattoo artist rolls his eyes from her request, mumbling all kinds of complaints under his breath while bandaging her and shoving an instruction sheet in her shaking hand. Suddenly realizing from his panic the trouble she instigates, all the relief evaporates from her expression. "He wouldn't...You don't think..."
"I'm sorry, G." He really is. So fucking sorry that her brother would kill her to avenge their father. That she's finally exposed to the darkness pervading her family. "I don’t know what he's capable of, and I can’t take the chance he’ll find you to show me."
Once outside, he hails another ride, urging her inside. Lifting her butt into the seat when she flinches from the rawness of her wound. He pushes her down, laying her on his lap to keep her out of the line of fire. Delicate fingers entwine his free hand, while the other grips his Glock in preparation.
The cab driver’s gaze flits between the windshield and the rear mirror, probably fucking thinking she’s going down on him. Damn, he wishes that’s why they were in such a rush. Max raises the gun and nods to the man, who quickly returns his focus to the road. Smart move, asshole.
"He sounded like my Dad. Him and my mom.” Her face scrunches in mental anguish rather than physical pain, and her head flails side to side, scraping against his nylon shorts. “They don’t care about my happiness. They just want to control me. They want to make me be something I’m not.”
Such fucking idiots. Unable to see how fucking amazing she is. Generous. Brave. Creative. And none of them even care. He lifts their coupled hands and kisses her satin skin. Fuck them and their selfishness. She’s his, and at least now, he can have her all to himself.
11
Chapter ELEVEN
Max shoves his phone back into his pocket and steps into Nick's office, blowing out a deep sigh. Guilt cripples him like the flu, throbbing in his muscles and burning his throat.
This is what he wants. Shae and Evie will be safe, and he can devote himself to Gina and building their life together.
Even though she’s doing better than he ever thought possible, moments of unexpected sorrow still sneak through. Disappointment filling her face from the buzz of texts that are never from her Mom. Ripping open the envelope postmarked from Brazil to find only Leticia’s signature in the card. Huffing about the extra security that accompanies her when she works. The bodyguards’ presence serving as a reminder of the vigilance required for Bruno. Especially after a man with a Portuguese accent cornered the carpenters working to salvage her art studio, asking too many fucking questions about her. All of the bullshit she suffers through confirming that there isn’t any other option.
He nods to himself. The right choice at the right time.
Then why does it feel so damn wrong?
Because he finally breaks the promise to always protect Shae that he never thought he could. Not because Gina asked him to. She would never make him choose. And, she'll probably be pissed as hell when she finds out he's quitting. But, he really has no choice. He's fucking distracted, and Nick needs someone who can devote himself to protecting his family, while Max solidifies his. A smile fights through his worry. Gina fills his world now and deserves to be treated like his only priority. "He's here. Dominic's patting him down now."
Nick nods. No change in his passive expression. Yet the lack of emotion doesn't mean uncertainty isn't pulsing under the surface. The same doubt runs through him. Neither of them able to easily accept another man can be trusted with Shae and Evie’s safety.
They both turn toward the footsteps pounding across the tiled foyer. Blade Ryan. The bodyguard recommended to Andy, strides toward them, flanked by Dominic and Leo. No way in hell they'll let him move unattended through the house. Especially with the girls here.
His background checks out. The Middle Eastern princess, now a successful editor in New York, after the coup that crumbled her country and killed her dictator brother. The young woman the only person to survive the attack. Because of Blade.
The daughter of the arms dealer who cared more about his black market empire than his child. Now making straight A's at Northwestern. Her future brighter than the explosion that massacred her father and ended his merciless reign.
The list goes on and on. Blade's the perfect choice. If he survives the interview. This discussion can only end in two ways – hired or dead. Nick can't let him walk away knowing his weakness.
Blade pauses in the doorway. Hope he’s not waiting for an invitation because he’ll be standing there all damn day. Nick leans back in his chair, inspecting the man he considers trusting with his wife's life. Not giving any indication of interest or concern.
“Your guys are sloppy.” Blade’s gaze flicks from Nick to Max, the smirk on his face matching the amusement in his eyes before he puts his hands up. An exaggerated expression of deference to the mob boss before he bends over, slides up his pant leg, and taps the Remington strapped to his ankle. “Or maybe you planned that.”
He passed the first test.
“Why are you here?” Nick taps on the scratched wood, unwilling to replace the desk with a nicer version to match the rest of the furniture. “From your reputation, I�
�m sure you have your choice of assignments around the world.”
“Andy’s call intrigued me.” A half-hearted shrug lifts Blade shoulders. A cool demeanor mimicking his icy Nordic looks. “LA suits me and I don’t mind staying for a while. I like the terms, but you have to agree to mine.”
Bastard’s awful cocky coming in here and demanding shit out of the gate. He better be fucking careful. Treading a very dangerous line, almost insulting Nick’s willingness to even meet him.
“Which are?”
“I only accept jobs on two conditions.”
Nick rolls his finger forward, ready to get past the small talk and really understand this guy’s game. What it will take to land him. If either of them wants him.
“You may pay the bills but she’s the boss. I protect her from everyone, including the person who hired me…” The bodyguard flips his palms, feigning a casualness that Max doesn’t buy. “Should the need arise.”
Motherfucker. Heat flames in his muscles from the implication. Ready to dole out Blade’s death sentence himself, Max steps forward. Eager to escort this asshole out of here.
His boss flattens his hands on the desk. “She knows who the enemy is, and it’s not me.”
Blade doesn’t back down from the furious edge ripping through Nick’s tone. “Really? From what I hear it wasn’t that long ago your old boy Max had to step in.” He nods toward Max but his gaze remains locked with Nick’s. “What would you have done to your wife if he hadn’t been there to stop you?”
The fire blazes to an inferno. Not sure if he’s angrier at the bastard for bringing up Nick’s drug-induced meltdown or someone on their own fucking team for ratting out their boss. Another fucking reminder they can’t trust anyone.
Nick’s jaw twitches but he doesn’t utter a word. Which is all it would take for Max to lay this son of a bitch out.
“And your second condition?”
Unbelievable. Nick’s still considering this guy. But he has to admit Blade’s good. Quick to hone in on Nick’s deepest insecurities. And fucking brave to push his boss like this. Very few men could taunt Nick with that insult and live.
“I want to meet her. When I guard, it’s only for people I’d give up my life for. I have to know if she’s worth it.”
“She is.”
Another shit-eating smirk curls his lips. As if he's going to decide that assertion for himself. But the bastard is smart enough not to argue. He acquiesces as Nick rises and strides past him out of the office. Following behind for a few steps before increasing his pace and falling in beside Nick. Already taking Max's place.
“Tell me about your wife.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Will she submit to me guarding her? I don't have the patience for a diva who resists me all the time."
“She understands the need for protection. If I trust you, then so will she.” Nick gestures toward the steps and continues the path downward. “She’ll treat you like her best friend instead of my employee. She’ll be welcoming and generous and sweet to you just like she is to everyone.”
His boss stops short, forcing Blade to step down and balance a foot on each stair. Asserting Nick's dominance over the bodyguard in power and stature. Ensuring no question of his intention. “But that’s the difference between me and her. I won’t be any of those things. And, if you let anything happen to her, I will fucking kill you." The hardness in his voice a reminder of who Blade should fear. "Nothing she says or does will protect you from me.”
A slow bob of the mercenary’s head confirms consent. He and Nick may have an understanding. But that doesn't mean jack shit. There's something about this guy. Something smarmy. Something too fucking perfect.
Or, maybe it's him. His own inability to accept a diminished role. Of wanting to tell this motherfucker to go to hell. That his friends’ security is his job. Breaking one promise to ensure another. Which he fucking hates.
They pause at the glass door. Shae runs steadily, her pink sports bra and tiny shorts the bright spot in the gray and black room.
"What the fuck is she doing?" Nick shakes his head, his gaze never wavering from his wife. "Hold up."
His best friend shoves down the handle and strides to her. A huge smile lights up her face as she taps buttons on the control panel and slows her pace. Confusion lines her forehead, stealing her grin, from Nick swiping her shirt from the counter and waiting while she pulls it over her head. Their words can't be heard, but he knows exactly the message Nick sends to her.
Blade remains stoic. No reaction to Nick's possessiveness playing out behind the window. No snarky comment or eye roll. Just watching.
Shae glances toward them, red creeping up her cheeks, and she accepts Nick's hand to step down from the belt. He grabs the small white monitor tucked into the cup holder before he curls her against him as they walk toward them.
And there it is. The slight shift in Blade’s stance. Attempting to minimize his body's involuntary reaction to Shae's natural beauty. Motherfucker better hope Nick didn’t catch it.
“Sweetness, this is Blade Ryan.”
The bodyguard accepts her outstretched hand, his expression the softest since he arrived. He stoops a bit, transforming into a gentle giant in her presence. “A pleasure.”
"Thank you.” Her smile returns, and she shakes her head, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes that Max has missed. A good sign things are finally returning to normal. At least between Nick and Shae. “I think we’re going to have to keep an eye on you with a name like Blade. Are you trying to tell us something?”
Laughter rips from his mouth with her teasing. "I was a pro snowboarder back in the day. That's how I earned the nickname. My real name's Blake."
A burgeoning whimper fills the open space, and Shae glances toward the speaker in Nick’s hand. "Someone’s waking up.” Her gaze moves from her husband to the bodyguard. “Okay, Blade/Blake, would you like to meet the boss?"
He lets out another huge laugh, enjoying her joke about the enormous power of a tiny infant. "Of course."
Nick fists the back of her tee, tugging her to him before she can step forward. His ‘fuck this’ gaze meeting Max's. But, they both have to accept what hiring Blade means. Unfettered access to the house, the baby, Shae. No matter how much they both fucking hate it.
Confusion lines her forehead as she looks between the men, not understanding her husband’s hesitation. Nick's lips curl together before he shakes his head. Ignoring the doubts that match Max’s own.
"Bring her to my office once you get her up.”
“Of course.”
She cups Nick’s cheek and kisses him, another way she reminds him that everything will be okay. Failing to relieve either of them.
Blade gestures for her to go first, and Shae leads them up the stairs and through the foyer. It takes everything Max has not to follow them to the nursery instead of heading into Nick’s office. “Smart move keeping the monitor.”
Nick nods but doesn’t speak. Neither of them with really anything to say. Waiting in strained silence, accompanied by Evie’s escalating fussing until Shae’s voice crackles through the tiny speaker.
“I guess I’m semi-retired now, which sounds so weird since I’m only twenty-five. But a lot of times when you take a break from music it’s hard to go back. The momentum’s gone.
Good morning again, sweet baby.”
A few last gurgles before Evie quiets down, content from her mother’s touch.
“I bet that’s difficult.”
“Not really. I love being with her. I felt guilty at first staying home with her while Nick works so hard. But I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
Nick’s fingers tap harder on the arm rest. Unhappy that his wife has any remorse about letting him take care of them. Knowing he would sacrifice everything to keep them happy and safe.
“I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”
“No, he doesn’t. I told him that once, and he said that nothing makes him happier than
knowing she and I are together all day. Another one of the many gifts he gives me.
Just like you, baby girl. Your Daddy loves you so much. You have to make sure you give him a smile just like that when you see him.”
Quiet, except for a strange rustling sound. The smile fades from Nick’s face, and Max jerks up too, both of them ready to jet up there and rescue them from whatever bullshit Blade tries to pull. He knew he should have stayed with her.
“That feels better, doesn’t it? A dry diaper and new outfit, now you’re ready to play.”
The muscles in his shoulders relax. No tension at all in Shae’s voice as she talks to Evie or Blade. Hopefully her assessment is correct.
“What about you Bl...I’m sorry, do you prefer Blade or Blake?”
“It’s Blade when everything’s fine. But, when we’re out, if you get scared or someone gets too close, call me Blake and that’s the code to let me know something’s wrong. Okay?”
Seconds tick by, and he meets Nick’s frown. A slick technique, perfect not to upset an overeager fan or stupid paparazzi, yet still doesn’t make her exposure to the bullshit from her stardom any easier.
“O-okay. So, what about you? Are you married or have children?”
“No kids. I was married once – confused lust for love. You can imagine how well that worked out.” Blade chuckles again. “I know that look, but don’t feel bad. We’re still friends.”
“Good.” More swishing reverberates through the monitor. They must be on the move. “Are you going with us tomorrow? We have a meeting for the Domestic Violence Foundation. Nick’s on the board and we’re planning the annual gala...”
Her voice fades away, leaving just the echo of their steps on the hardwood until those recede too. Max blows out a long breath. With her invitation, it’s official. Blade’s her new bodyguard.
Truth About Tequila: Believe in Me (Surviving Absolution #4) Page 9