by Selena Kitt
Cursing, he ripped his gaze off her lounging form and pivoted on the thick heel of his boot. Leaving the door open, he walked quickly away. Going to the refrigerator he opened it with such force the door audibly protested before he grabbed a bottle of water. Women! Damn things can get a man in so much trouble! Now he knew he definitely had to leave this job. In fact, I ain’t waiting till the morning shift arrives neither! He was angry now, at himself, not her.
As the company’s best man, he knew better. She’d proved a very difficult job as his co-workers had warned him, but he had never failed a job. Grabbing his cell phone he punched in his boss’s number.
Pete, while also his best friend, was his boss and the owner of the protective services company he worked for. The man was very explicit and stern on the rules he’d created for his protection, for his employees, and the protection of the clients, but most importantly, the protection of the business. Under no circumstances whatsoever were those rules to ever be broken. Jason knew he had really fucked up big time, and for what? A glimpse of the Senator's full-figured, twenty-year-old daughter playing with herself? Simply because she also happened to be the most attractive woman he'd met this side of the border? Besides, her attitude left far too much to be desired, and he was sick of the shopping and the dining out in fancy, high-class restaurants where his jeans and cowboy boots were completely out of place. He was done watching as she slipped the Stewards a Benjamin Franklin when they huffed and puffed over her companion's dinner wear.
He and Pete had just been discussing the possibility of a partnership between the two of them. Shit!
Punching in the number, he thought of Pete's wife and his friend, struggling with the loss of her mother on the very eve of their first child's rough entry into the world. Shit. His hand automatically snapped the lid closed on the phone. Nope, he couldn't do this to Pete. Time to suck it up and stop being such a whiny bitch. He could handle this. He was a professional, damn it! He could do this. With some serious effort, he would tame back the illogical responses this woman seemed to bring out in him, the way being around her screwed with his senses enough to allow him to border on completely insane. To counter the sting, he promised himself some much needed R&R & RW–rest, relaxation, and rigorously working his ass off at the ranch when this job was finished. He firmly decided the temporary loss of his mental capacity was a one-time thing, meant nothing, and tomorrow he'd be back to his old, cold, hard-working self. The pampered life he'd been experiencing while following this filly around town to cater to her indulgences had rubbed off on him. Yup, that was it. Too much of the niceties in life could make any man lose his mind, fast. He'd get over that shit, quick!
Now he only had to convince his body to believe what he had already convinced his mind. No problem there. He was used to being completely in control.
3
Jason had been acting different around her the last few days since he’d walked in on her naked, post masturbation. Stand-offish. Cold. Distant. Uninterested. She clicked off the adjectives in her head. The more he acted like the others before him, like she was a bitch to barely be tolerated, the more she acted like one. Irritated, she thought nothing of taking it out on him. The sting of not being able to even entice a bodyguard she ignored, or paid back by making him take her everywhere that she could dream of to go, gulled at her. She’d bought more the last few days than she had when she’d been with all of her other guards combined. Of course, none of them had led her to erotic daydreams and raging lust to the point of having to pleasure herself, not to mention the desperate display she’d made of herself after. She’s tried to call him in like a siren, but he’d done exactly as he should have. He’d kept his distance despite the display she’d made of herself. That cut deep.
Even now, seeing the glazed over look in his eyes as he played with his food after a few hours of waiting for her to get a massage, then her nails done, a full work up at the spa, all she could do was attempt to think of ways to piss him off. He ticked her off, so she paid it forward with robust determination. She’d ordered for them both from the salad of heirloom tomatoes, to the seared tuna, to the crème fraiche he now pushed around. He couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable in the dinner jacket she had forced him to wear to adhere to the dress policy of the restaurant.
While she should have been pleased with herself, should have been thrilled with the way she'd repaid Jason's nonchalant attitude–and bursting with glee at her accomplishment–instead, she felt let down, which only fueled her anger. A weight remained, slowing her heartbeat, rolling like a brick in her stomach. He hadn’t even attempted small talk like he had in the past, at least asking her about growing up, school, the last few years since she’d been out. She’d taken his interest, obligation or not, for granted. While there had never been much to truly tell, she’d exercised her mind and made up some good shit each time. Or, so she’d thought. He’d at least seemed amused by her then. Now that he’d seen her naked, he couldn’t even look her way despite the fact he obviously couldn’t have been less interested in the golden, sugary cream he scooped up only to watch it slide back down off his spoon into the bowl.
“Eat, damn it!” she hissed at him across the table, her tone low but forceful. Her anger laced words normally would have made any man cower. Yet Jason sat looking bored to death and entirely unaffected by her viscous display.
“Look, Kathryn, you can make me stand outside of spa doors all day long while you make yourself relaxed and beautiful. You can force me to wear ridiculous looking, restrictive suits. You can even order my food for me for presentation sake. But, you can not make me put food in my mouth, chew, or swallow. A man has to have some boundaries. Besides, I’m saving my taste buds, and my hunger, for some wings and beer when we get back to the condo.”
He’d talked to the dessert rather than her, but she’d received his message loud and clear, though many of the words had been fuzzy, hard to understand, after he’d called her beautiful. Well, technically he’d said 'make herself beautiful', but that meant he thought at some point she could be, right? Maybe. Possibly. It was the first hint she’d gotten from him in days that he thought anything of her at all. Regardless, rather than this fact elating her, raising her mood, it seemed to fuel her bitterness. Something about his comment, an emotion she couldn’t identify, made her eyes begin to burn before unexpected tears welled up in the corners. If he’d been paying any attention to her at all, he would have noticed. Thankfully, he'd already returned to ignoring her again.
She tried to pull it together, biting her tongue to avoid lashing out at him. For some reason her cuts, witty comebacks, all remained frozen in her brain, unwilling to show themselves. When an audible groan bordering on a sigh escaped her throat, she grabbed her napkin up off her lap so fast she could feel the rake of her nails, perfectly painted today, across her thigh through her sundress. She carelessly, so unlike her, put the napkin to her eye to dab at the emerging tears that she caught his attention at just the wrong moment. She fumed as he looked at her, mouth hanging open like he’d realized for the first time she was a real girl, with real emotions and all.
This infuriated her. She never let anyone see her innermost thoughts and feelings, not even herself, whoever the hell she was. She knew her role, had learned it at school, and she played it well. So well, in fact, it was who she'd become. The role she played was all she knew of herself. Tears were never, under any circumstances, allowed.
“Kathryn?” He reached across the table only to hover his calloused hand inches above hers for a moment before he pulled it back.
“Don’t act concerned. I have something in my eye. Must have been that stupid lady who did my makeup,” she tried to cover.
“What, she got something in both of your eyes over an hour ago that is just now bothering you?”
“A delayed reaction, asshole. Take me home. Or to that hell hole you call a condo so I can wash this shit off my face,” she demanded.
When he didn’t move, just sat there
dumbfounded, she pushed back her chair, purposely making the legs scratch across the floor, hoping she could walk to his side of the table and actually appear threatening. Like she could truly move the mountain of muscle that made up Jason with any physical effort. Her daddy’s wallet could, though, and she intended to use that to her advantage. Before she could grab his arm and dig in her fingernails to make him stand, he did so on his own, moving his arm in tight to his body to avoid her touching him at all.
Asshole. The word deafening, even just said internally.
4
Jason had to remind himself about his duty to his friend, Pete, and his job every time this woman made him come close to losing his mind again. She had a knack of getting under his skin whether with her words or her looks. While two completely different types of irritation, he often existed on the edge of his breaking point either way. Between wanting to put her in her place and fuck her, the dominant male in him could only dream of a sexy as hell discipline session. Yet, the internal fight to keep such thoughts far from repeatedly flowing through his head remained alive and well.
When he pulled the car up outside of the place they stayed, she got out immediately, yet again disobeying another simple order to stay in the car until he secured the perimeter and let her out. He took in their surroundings fast, too fast, as he followed her to the door. He had the keys, so even being a few steps behind her, the woman suddenly moving like she ran a sprint, she’d have to stop at the door. Then he could guard her body with his, careful not to get too close. Tedious, but necessary. The whole idea of being so close to her just about undid him, the familiar pulse that turned to an ache in his groin beginning when she slipped through the door.
“Fuck,” he yelled, preceded by his screaming out “Kathryn,” as his run became a leap through the entranceway.
It had been open, and no one but him and Pete had a key to this place. Pete would never stop by unannounced to a house with an armed guard in it. Jason rapidly scanned the living room as Kathryn disappeared into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
“Damn it, Kathryn,” he yelled as he made his way to her door. He didn’t bother to knock, his adrenaline fueling him, pushing him instinctively into his training, making him a protector, her bodyguard first and foremost.
He entered the room accompanied by the soundtrack of her scream. His entrance precipitated a brief struggle between her and her attacker she easily lost. With his gun raised, aimed, finger poised over the trigger, he couldn’t get a clean shot as the man used Kathryn like a shield. While the intruder struggled to move them both toward the already open window, which seemed odd given someone had broken in through the front door, Jason used the mirror to form a plan of attack to take the man down without harming his charge. Then he saw the message taped to the mirror, a threat that her attacker would soon take her.
This was all a game to this man. He obviously didn’t want to harm Kathryn, just scare her and her father. He was smart. Had made his way past the secured front door. He’d taken too stereotypical of a way of leaving a threat on the mirror, all in large cutout letters from various sources, and had probably been about to leave through the window he’d opened when Kathryn had stupidly stormed in on him. He'd clearly only tried to make a point that if he wanted to, he could do something. What he really wanted, his demands, would come next. All the man probably sought now was a clean exit. Devoid of a clear shot without endangering Kathryn, Jason hoped his theory was correct.
He remained poised, gun aimed if he got a chance at a shot, as the man shuffled them to the window, his arm tight about Kathryn's throat. Moving cautiously, Jason remained only a few inches away from them, ready to take a bullet for her if this creep drew a gun. He only cared that he could grab her once the man tried to exit out the window. Under no circumstances would this man take her from him, even if he had to die to pull it off. Ready as the stalker moved to step out the window, he found himself catching Kathryn as the stalker thrust her at him. The man's violent push sent her slamming into him so fast he had to stiffen his hand, take the impact of her body against his fingers on his gun without firing the weapon he’d been poised to shoot. A damn difficult maneuver, even for him.
Without conscious thought, acting on pure instinct alone, he wrapped his free arm around her to secure her to him as he turned them both, putting his body not only between her and the stalker in case he decided to take a shot, but also between her and the ground they were soon to hit. And, hit they did, with a heavy thud. His ass hit the ground, his back the windowsill, and her body crushed his against both surfaces. He reached through the pain to pull down the window with an aching hand, still miraculously holding his gun, but he couldn’t reach. He rolled to the side, pushed her to the ground, covered her with his body, and cautiously peered out the window.
In the dark night, even with the streetlights, Jason watched the assailant get into a non-descript, dark colored car across the street. Slamming the window shut so hard Kathryn screamed again, he locked it back up. Of course, while they had special locks, the glass reinforced so it couldn’t be broken, this guy had entered through the front door, so opening the window had been nothing from the inside. He would have to inspect the front door to ascertain the skills this guy retained that he had so easily gotten inside the specialty locks. The man was a pro with a point to make. The message given tonight, Jason had received loud and clear. The stalker hadn’t wanted to hurt her this time or he would have, but there was no telling what he would do the next. Plus, he kept getting to them. He had proof now, he believed, that an internal leak had led this guy to them once again. He needed to take her, get her out of here now.
The thought had barely entered his brain when a plan started to form. Screw policy. He’d keep her safe. He’d take her with him to his ranch. He’d tell no one where they’d gone, only tell Pete she would remain safe in an undisclosed location. They could fire him after the stalker had been caught. He’d gladly give up the job. He could check in from time to time on burner phones until they managed to catch the man, but until then they would both disappear. That is all he would tell Pete, his plan.
But first, he had to comfort the sobbing woman trembling in his arms, snuggled into his body.
“It’s over, Kathryn. You are okay. But, you broke the rules running from the car without me and paid a horrible price. I’m taking you away from here, somewhere where I know I can keep you safe until they catch this guy. You need to grab your stuff so we can leave now. We are open targets with the front door compromised, probably unable to be locked again. I will stand here, make a phone call while you grab your stuff as fast as you can.”
He tried to stand, but she only shook her head as she continued to vibrate in his arms. She had a death grip on his sides, getting clothing and flesh, her thick, manicured nails leaving crescent shaped indentations just below his ribs.
“Kathryn. Please. I have you. You are safe. But, sweetheart, we have to move fast before the guy comes back.” Even though he didn’t believe the man would dare at this point, Jason needed to scare her into understanding as he pushed her away from him, easily overpowering her death-like grip on him so he could look her in the eyes. “Can you do that for me? Can you grab just what you need?”
She nodded, her red-rimmed eyes wide with fear.
“Good. Do so while I make a call to my boss, tell him a brief description of my plan.”
He figured he could leave his phone here after the call. They would be completely out of touch until after he had secured them at the ranch and gone out to buy a burner and check in again. He only told Pete they were going to disappear before hanging up on the man. Next he called the head of staff at the ranch, instructing them that while he was coming there, if anyone called they were to say they had not heard from him. Then he wiped the calls from the log, did a fast factory reset, and turned off the phone purposefully tossing it on her bed. With bag in her hand, he pulled her to him again. Tucked under his side for her protection, they moved ca
utiously into every room, his gun aimed, held steady despite a painfully bruised hand.
As he pulled away from the curb, her with her head down below the dashboard, he wished he could focus on the fact that somewhere Pete was cursing him up and down right now. He’d left his friend with the message to catch this bastard stalker and then he would return her home. Pete knew about the ranch, but his employees would make sure no one knew he was actually there. Kathryn and he would literally go off grid, hiding in the most obvious place due to the help of a loyal staff who had already been carefully instructed for years lest he ever need such a backup plan to disappear. They had protocol even if someone showed up in person to the ranch. When the order was given, they knew their first and most important responsibility was to keep him hidden there.
He wished he could be concerned with Pete’s anger. Instead, as he drove through the night, rushing Kathryn to safety, all he could think about were the nerve endings still awake and tingling all over him from where her body had pressed against his.
5
It had been dark when they arrived at Jason's ranch yesterday, and Kathryn had been unable to get a clear vision of her surroundings, this dream home and ranch Jason had told her about on the way here. Basically, the guy had talked a mile a minute. She figured it had been his attempt to get her mind off what had just happened to her. All she really got from what he said, though, her brain still having trouble with the whole concentration thing, was the fact they were driving a few hours north of Sacramento to a horse ranch he owned. He loved the place. That came out loud and clear. He trusted his staff to hide them in such an obvious location. She understood that, too. She had to trust him.