“Thanks for getting my car, but where are you going?” He pauses as he lifts his overcoat from the chair, his eyebrows raised. Ugh, that was a bit forward, Mina. “Um, what I meant was…were you assigned to me for the evening too?” I tuck my hair behind my ear and smile. “I kind of wanted to hear some stories from Oxford.”
Den’s brief smile transforms his whole face, giving another peek into the man behind the stoic guard persona. “We were an incorrigible lot.” Clearing his throat, he seems to pull back into himself, his expression turning serious once more as he shrugs into his coat. “I imagine you’ll be asleep by the time I relieve Theo.”
“Maybe not.” Tilting my head, I smile. “For the first time in forever, I get to sleep in tomorrow. See you later, Den.”
Opening the door, he nods. “Lock it after I leave.”
Once the door closes, I do as he says and flip the deadbolt, then move over to the window. As I wait for Den to exit my building and slide into his car, I smile behind the closed curtain, thinking about the deadly combo of his smile with his appealing accent. Is his laugh equally pleasing to listen to? My smile fades when I see my ex pull up in his car across the street from my building. Den stops walking and turns to wait for him. What’s Derrick doing here?
As much as I don’t want to see my ex, I can’t have him getting into it with Den. When my gaze lands on the scarf Den left on the chair, I have the perfect excuse to go downstairs and hopefully head off any confrontation. Grabbing the scarf, I quickly slip on my jacket and start for the door, then frown. Theo will adhere to BLACK Security protocol and follow me downstairs, causing more attention than I want. I gnaw on my lip and stare at the fire escape. Yep, that’ll be much faster. Locking my phone, I slip it and my keys into my jacket pocket, then open my window.
The last thing I expect to see is Den walking down the sidewalk when I round the corner of my building. His car is still parked at the curb and my ex is nowhere in sight.
What did Den say to chase Derrick away? I really need to know so I’m prepared if he tries to give me a hard time about it later. I can’t have Derrick using Den’s protective nature as an excuse to try to get shared custody of Josi in order to see her whenever he wants.
And where is Den going? He seemed a bit on edge right before he left. And why did he have Theo come relieve him? What could he possibly be worried about? There’s only one way to find out. I tuck Den’s soft scarf around my neck and pull my jacket’s hood over my hair as I follow him toward the train station.
As Den gets off in East Village, I do the same. The last place I expect to see him walk into is a popular bar/nightclub called Village Venue, known for great drinks and all genres of music. I’ve been there before with college friends, but I honestly don’t remember much about that night. I wait a few minutes before I slip inside, then quickly push my hood back and move over to the only empty table close to the back of the dimly lit room. Next to me, a large group of people in their thirties are holding their beers up and calling out songs they’d like the live band to play in their next set. According to their loud conversation, apparently this band is known for its folksy blues sound.
I peer through the neon lit darkness, looking for Den and sigh my frustration when I don’t see him in the crowded room of people drinking and chatting. Where did he go? Is he in a backroom or something?
The sound of a bass guitar being strummed as the band warms up draws my attention to the stage where blue, pink, and deep purple lights shine. My focus locks on Den talking to a man holding a saxophone. The bald guy with a thick, dark beard smiles at something Den says, then points to the stage. When Den shakes his head, the guy shrugs and sits on a stool, wets his reed with his tongue, then pulls the stand up mic closer to his instrument. Giving Den an expectant look, he lifts the mic from its stand.
Den stares at him for a second, shakes his head, then unbuttons his suit jacket. Once he shrugs out of it, and starts to take off his tie, the guy lets out a victorious laugh and turns to speak to his band mates before putting the mic to his lips. “We’re back this time with a special guest who came all the way across the pond just to entertain you for a song or two. Give it up for Den, New Yoooooork!”
As the crowd whoops and whistles, I wait for Den to pick up the guitar leaning against an empty stool on the stage. But when he rolls up his sleeves, then takes the mic from the bearded guy’s hand, I let out a short laugh of surprise. He’s going to sing?
The drummer taps his sticks and then the rest of the band jumps in with their bluesy take of Rolling Stone’s iconic “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction.” The audience claps and hollers at the crowd-pleasing choice. The moment Den belts out the first few lyrics, the whole room goes wild in their approval of his deep, angsty voice. Chill bumps scatter across my skin and I stare in astonishment at his sexy, smoldering rendition of the famous song as the music amps. Clapping my wholehearted appreciation along with the rest of the room, I call out, “Rock it, Den!”
“Hell if I ever knew Den could sing that well,” a dark-haired man in his late-thirties with gray at his temples sits in a chair at my table.
His British accent quickly captures my attention and I say over the music, “You’re a friend of Den’s?”
“I’m Hugh. Den and I have known each other for a long time.” A scar on his chin stands out in the darkness as he puts the beer bottle to his lips. Instead of taking a swig, he continues, “We haven’t talked in a while, so I’m here to see him.”
I gesture to the stage. “I think he should be done soon.”
“There’s some old wounds.” He absently rubs the scar on his chin, his attention never leaving Den. “I’m not sure if he’ll be willing to chat.”
Unspoken issues with my mom, ones I’ll never get to address, swim around in the back of my mind. That’s probably why it seems like I see her everywhere lately. I shrug the sudden tension from my shoulders and shift my gaze back to Den on the stage. “Don’t wait until it’s too late. You never know if you’ll get another chance.”
The song ends, but Den and the band effortlessly segue into a faster paced tune I’ve never heard before. I tap my fingers on the table and smile. “This one’s new to me, but I really like it.”
“You’re so young, I’m not surprised you don’t recognize this lesser known classic by the Stones, Mina. It’s called ‘Ride ‘Em On Down.’”
I instantly tense that he knows my name. I never said it. Then it hits me…how did he know to sit next to me? It’s true my table was the only one that wasn’t already full, but still.
“I need to use the restroom. Can you save my seat for me?” I start to slide my chair back, but he puts his foot directly behind my chair legs, stopping my movement as he leans closer to speak over the music.
“You should stay until the song’s over,” he says smoothly, his gaze still fixed on the stage. “It’ll be worth listening to the whole song.”
Heart racing like mad, my whole body tenses. Just as I start to push the table forward to free myself, the song ends and the room lights brighten slightly. Oblivious to the crowd’s whoops and applause of appreciation, Den’s gaze lands directly on me. He hands the bearded guy the mic, says something quickly, then grabs his jacket and tie and walks off stage, heading straight for our table.
If I weren’t already a bit tense about this guy next to me, I’d be unsettled by the intense look on Den’s face. He nods to acknowledge the couple of people in the crowd who clap him on the shoulder as he passes, but he doesn’t take his eyes off us, his determined stride never breaking.
“Let’s go,” he says, gripping my elbow to pull me to my feet once he reaches the table. Turning his head, he directs a lethal tone at Hugh. “If you come within a hundred feet of her again, I will end you.”
The guy holds his hands up, his beer bottle dangling between two fingers. “I’m just here to talk, Den. I really need you to listen. There could be trouble.”
“The only trouble is staring right at me.” Den
looks pointedly at Hugh, then turns to me. “Off you go.”
The tension between the two men is so palpable, I let Den lead me out of the club without a word. Once we’re outside, he continues to usher me forward, but several steps away from the club, I pull free of his hold. “What the hell was that? Why won’t you talk to the guy?”
“He’s dangerous, Mina. Trained to kill.”
“You mean just like you?” I challenge. When he doesn’t respond, I exhale a slow breath. So Den really was part of the MI6 in the past. I always assumed the office rumors were exaggerated and had never asked my dad to confirm when Den first came to work for him. “If Hugh wanted to kill me, he would have. He was there to speak to you.”
He looks down at me, the grooves around his mouth deepening. “Either keep walking or I’ll cave-man you out of here.”
I throw my hands up and follow him farther away from the club. “Is threatening to haul me around like a sack of sand going to be your pattern?”
“Will a total disregard for your own safety continue to be yours?”
We’re only a block away from the club, but I’m already panting from taking three steps for every one of his. “Slow down, you long-legged, Brit!”
Den suddenly halts, then lifts an arm to hail a cab.
I study his profile, noticing a small muscle pulsing in his jaw. He’s really not happy. “I don’t need a babysitter, Den.”
The silent “I know better” look he cuts my way sparks my defenses.
“Today’s crazy-Mina was an anomaly,” I say, spreading my hands in innocence. “Normally I’m pretty boring.”
The cab pulls up and Den says in a low tone as he reaches for the door. “You’re not crazy, nor is there a single boring thing about you. The stubborn Blake blood running through your veins assures that.”
Den doesn’t speak the entire ride, but I can tell by the way he’s resting his big hands on his thighs, fingers spread with a slight grip, that this discussion is far from over.
Fine by me, I’m not done yet either.
The moment Den and I step off the elevator, Theo stands up from his chair outside my apartment door. Rubbing a hand through his styled light brown hair, he shrugs his thick shoulders and does a double take. “Are you some kind of ninja, Mina? How’d you leave without me seeing you?” Before I can respond, he looks at Den and shakes his head. “I honestly never left my post.”
Den waits for me to unlock my door, then says to Theo, “Your job was to keep others from getting in.” He pauses a beat, shifting his gaze briefly my way. “Not to have to keep the person you’re protecting from sneaking out. I’ll take it from here for the night.”
“Do you want me to write the report for this evening?” Theo asks as he shrugs into his jacket.
Den shakes his head. “I’ll fill Sebastian in tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Theo,” I call after him as he walks toward the elevator. I feel bad that he just wasted a couple hours of his time guarding an empty apartment.
“Hold on a sec,” Den says to his colleague as I enter my apartment. I leave the men to chat and walk inside, shrugging out of my coat.
My cheeks flame with embarrassed heat when Den closes the door and catches me sliding his scarf from underneath my hair. I set in on the back of my couch. “I um, put your scarf on once I saw you walking down the street. I’d brought it downstairs after you left without it, but you were already heading away. That’s why I followed you to the club.”
His brows pull together. “You followed me all the way to East Village just to give me my scarf?”
“Of course not,” I say, shaking my head. “Before I came downstairs, I saw my ex had just pulled up and you seemed to be waiting on him. By the time I made it downstairs to make sure you two were civil to each other, he was nowhere to be found. I needed to know what was said between you two before he tries to contact me again. My daughter is my priority, and I don’t want to mess up our current status.”
“Which is?” Den’s gaze narrows slightly. “You’re not planning on getting back together with him again, are you?”
I give him an “are you kidding?” look. “So what did you say to him to make him leave?”
“I told him you were tired and couldn’t be disturbed.”
“That’s all?” I tilt my head, eyeing him. “I know there’s more. What else did you say?”
He steps into the living room and picks up the scarf, his gaze holding mine. “I told him that it’s good to see he’s finally showing an interest in his daughter, but if he ever tried to manipulate Josi or you for any kind of financial gain, that I would ruin him.”
I can only imagine how intimidating Den appeared to Derrick. I’m so surprised he stepped in to make sure my daughter’s father does right by her that I’m speechless for a second. “Thank you for looking out for Josi, Den. I appreciate it.”
He dips his head in a quick nod, then holds the scarf out to me, saying gruffly, “There’s no reason to take it off, since you’re not staying. You need to pack a bag.”
On reflex I’d taken the scarf he handed back to me, but I lift my gaze to his, crushing the soft material between my fingers. “A bag? Why?”
Den folds his arms, his serious demeanor making him look every bit the MI6 agent he used to be. “I’m not discounting your story about what happened in that hotel.”
“But you said there wasn’t any evidence.”
“Lack of evidence doesn’t mean something didn’t happen. At least for tonight, I would like you to stay somewhere that’s not easily traceable to you.”
“You think I’m in danger?” My pulse starts to race. “Is that why you had Theo stay behind while you went off to sing at a night club?”
He frowns. “That wasn’t singing. That was a negotiation.”
“Sounded like singing to me. Which was freaking awesome, by the way. But you obviously weren’t too worried or you never would’ve left.” Setting the scarf back down on the couch, I walk into my kitchen to retrieve a mug from the cabinet, then tug the container of tea forward. “I’m staying here and making some tea. My best friend, Laura, bought these blends for me. You should try some.”
“Mina—” Den says, but I just talk over him.
“While you have a cup, you can tell me some Oxford stories.” I start to open the container of tea when Den’s hands land on either side of my mug on the counter. His hard body trapping me in, he leans close, his voice rumbling in my ear.
“That wasn’t a request. If all evidence was removed that quickly in the hotel room, it could only have been the work of a professional. Bring your tea if you want, but you’re not staying here.”
My stomach knots and I glance up at him over my shoulder. “A professional? Does that mean you think Regan didn’t kill herself?”
Den turns me around and tilts my chin so I meet his gaze. “I’m not sure yet, but I’m not taking any chances with your safety. I want you to come stay with me.”
Stay with him? The knots of worry in my stomach morph into excited flutters as the warmth from his touch spreads through me. He’s so close, his compelling golden gaze bending me to his will. I inhale, trying to get a grip of my scattered emotions, but his aftershave only pulls me deeper. Appealing notes of leather and woodsy bergamot soak into my senses and chill bumps scatter across my skin, just like when he began to sing earlier.
There’s something so primal about Den. He’s as hard as steel, but there’s a caring quality about him that draws me in. Like the way he protects Talia, and how he considered Josi’s well-being first in every instance. I close my eyes against his magnetism, but I can’t shut off his actions. He has no idea how much his belief in me, despite any tangible proof, bolsters my battered confidence. I’ve never trusted a man this much or felt so safe, and it’s freaking me out. I’ve been doing things on my own for a while now. How is it possible to feel like both a failure and adept in someone’s presence? I swallow my nervousness and open my eyes, nodding my agreement. “Just so you
know, when you ask nicely, the combination of your deep voice and accent is like some kind of hypnotic sorcery.”
Den releases me, his low laugh silky smooth. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now go get packed.”
I walk into the living room, then pause to pull out my phone.
“What are you doing?” Den asks from his leaning position against the kitchen doorjamb.
After a quick search, I click a button, then I tuck my phone away in my back pocket, calling over my shoulder, “Ordering a pair of earplugs.”
His arrogant chuckle follows me all the way to my room.
Chapter Eight
Den
My gut tells me Mina’s in danger. Not a single bit of evidence gives me a reason to think this, but I trust my instincts, and her word, on this one.
She’s been quiet on the ride back to my house. Something shifted between us the moment I turned her around in her kitchen. It wasn’t my intent to get that close, but she’s so stubborn and I needed her to understand. When she lifted those gorgeous brown eyes and looked at me with such blind trust, my whole body tightened with the need to slide my hand down the beautiful curve of her neck, to feel her soft skin and pull her against me. I had to release her and put some distance between us. I can’t overstep my bounds. She’s my charge. My one job is to protect her.
Yet she distracts me with worry, makes me care for her and Josi’s safety. Mina invades my thoughts in ways I swore I would never let another again. I didn’t want to let her in, but here she is, winding past my defenses, breathing life into my dead heart, making me think about her. More than I bloody well should.
I don’t want the pain, fear, and terror that caring for another can evoke.
I don’t want any of it.
But that’s exactly what I felt when I saw Hugh sitting beside Mina in that nightclub. I didn’t need my gun at the club, so I’d left it in my car for this trip. Which made the gut-wrenching panic I was determined to never experience again that much more visceral, crushing my lungs and jacking my protective instincts. I didn’t have a way to defend her from a distance.
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