Bedded by Her Bodyguard (Billionaire Bodyguard Series)

by Kristi Avalon

  Shutting her eyes, she shook her head no, trying to block out the memories. But they surfaced in quick succession, flashing in disjointed glimpses like pictures under a strobe light. She barely heard him leave the desk and come to her side.

  “Mindy, look at me.”

  She refused. She just wanted the whole incident to go away.

  “Look. At. Me.”

  Nervously, she lifted her eyes and concentrated on the present moment, on his handsome face level with hers as he knelt beside her. He took her hands in his.

  His eyes were clear and determined. “You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you, sweetheart. Can you recall any other details?”

  A stab of fear lanced through her chest. “I don’t want to.”

  “I know.” He gathered her against him gently stroking her hair. “But what you saw could be important.”

  He held her, making soothing sounds that eased the sharp pinch between her shoulder blades. She wanted to stay in the protection of his arms forever.

  Sunlight trickled into the room through the curtains. One of the shafts hit the bronze lamp and reflected like a beacon, drawing shadowy images from her mind that became sharper like examining pieces of broken glass. She described them aloud.

  “The second man, the one I could see, had a long thin nose and a moustache. He wore a beret, I think.”

  “Good. That’s good, sweetheart. What else?”

  She took in a shuddering breath. “The man in the beret had a strange accent when he spoke Russian to the other guy and English to me. The one who grabbed me sounded like the Markovs, but the thin man sounded different, his Russian and English less fluid. Not quite German. Maybe more Nordic. Swedish or Norwegian.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Pretty sure. My mother hosted an exchange student my junior year of high school. She was from Norway, in the States studying journalism. Helen loved her,” Mindy recalled with a leftover twinge of jealousy.

  Anla had been blonde and blue-eyed like Mindy, but the young worldly sophisticate had engaged in riveting conversations with her mother discussing global politics. Socialist states versus capitalist countries and everything else under the sun. Helen had treated Anla more like a daughter than she treated her own. They’d talked long into the night about things Mindy couldn’t have cared less about at the time. More interested in cheerleading, studying for her SATs, and what dress to wear to prom. That whole semester Helen had raved endlessly about Anla and how she was a bright young star in the field of journalism. Again, Mindy hadn’t measured up, but back then she’d still bothered to try.

  “Interesting,” Isaac murmured.

  “Why?”

  “You probably don’t know this, but a large faction of gunrunners has been linked to ties in Norway. And Russia has a heavy influence in the global weapons arena.”

  She lifted away his chest and stared at him. “But we’re not here for guns. The Sorens’ SOS technology is meant for personal protection, like the bodyguards. The Markovs didn’t seem like the gunrunning type.”

  “They aren’t, they’re in the precious metals business but their rivals could be.”

  “Why would a device for GPS location be in high demand by arms dealers?”

  He shrugged. “Same reason people carry guns or our SOS thumb drive. The need for self-defense isn’t specific to one group of people or another. Still, I wonder if there’s more to it.”

  The weave of the carpet left pockmarks on his knees when he stood and started pacing. This was hardly the time to notice the impressive musculature of his thighs and calves, but his lower body proved as athletic and built as his upper body. Some guys were super pumped up top but looked ridiculous with scrawny legs and no shape to their backsides. Isaac was a prime male specimen. Proportioned like a Greek stature, a marble god. She wanted to feel his thigh muscles strain as he sent himself into her. She choked back a moan.

  Then she realized he’d stopped pacing. And she was still staring at his legs. Immediately, she forced her gaze to dart from object to object around the room before he received the impression she’d been ogling him. Which she had been. But still.

  “Can you remember anything else about the ring?” he asked.

  “Jade.” She startled herself with the announcement but the memory just popped into her head of the murky green oval stone embedded in gold. The same color as the Chinese dragon bookends her father used to prop up a row of books in his office at the university. She could almost smell the comforting scent of pipe smoke, sweet and earthy, her father’s one and only vice; besides his unconditional love for his wife who’d barely acknowledged his existence for years before their divorce. “The gold ring held an oval jade stone,” she whispered.

  Isaac snapped his fingers. “Now there’s a possible connection.”

  “There is?”

  “The Markovs deal with precious metals and precious stones. You know, I had the thought last night, maybe the attempted robbery was an inside job.”

  Unnerved, she asked, “What do you mean?”

  “As far as we know, the only people in this country—hell, in this hemisphere—who knew about the SOS technology are us and the Markovs.”

  She twisted her fingers together. “That sounds ominous.”

  His expression darkened. “It may be.” Then he resumed pacing. “Did you notice all the Markovs wore gold rings? The only one who wore a ring with a stone in it was Marcus.”

  Good grief, the guy had sat beside her half the night. How had she not noticed? “I guess I wasn’t paying attention to their jewelry.”

  Maybe she needed to stop comparing places to scenes in Indiana Jones movies and focus more on the immediate details of her surroundings. Then again, she’d been more than distracted by her continuous blunders. Marcus was the only one who’d laughed them off. Because he’d had a secret agenda?

  “I’m usually better at picking up on people’s quirks and responses,” she said, bemused.

  Walking over to her, Isaac tilted her chin up, his touch firm yet gentle. “You were busy trying to hold your own in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language and don’t know the customs.” His thumb grazed her cheek and her heart thumped hard. “Understandable. It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

  “Still.” She licked her lips.

  His eyes widened then narrowed as he focused on the darting movement of her tongue. Eventually his gaze met hers. “I want to do something with you today before our second dinner meeting.”

  The suggestion made her pulse thrum. “You do?”

  “Get dressed while I grab a quick shower. Wear the dark red skirt suit.” He stroked her cheek again. “It’s stunning on you.”

  His fingers slid along her jaw before he dropped his hand to his side. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a distinct outline in his boxer briefs.

  Isaac touching her had affected him—down there?

  How about that. She gave an inner squeal of delight. “Okay, I’ll be ready by the time you finish your shower.”

  Chapter 5

  After a night of torture lying next to the woman of his dreams, watching her run half-naked to the bathroom, seeing her nipples poke through her towel, catching her checking him out when he’d been pacing, then sliding his hand along the satiny texture of her face…Isaac teetered on a knife’s edge of exploding.

  He wanted to haul her against him. Plunge his tongue into her mouth. Throw her on the bed. Thrust inside her and claim her.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead, mingling with the water coasting down his neck. He knew exactly what he’d like coasting down him right now, and it wasn’t soap suds. Unless she was in the shower with him.

  He slapped his hand against the tile with a wet smack, running his other hand down his face. He considered relieving himself while he fantasized about her lips wrapped around his cock. But he didn’t want the fantasy anymore, desperately craving the reality.

  Nothing compared to the feel of her small fr
agile form in his arms. Last night had been purgatory. Restless, hot and aching for her, he’d finally fallen asleep to the soft hypnotic sound of her breathing. Only to wake up and find her wedged against him, her cheek buried in his chest, his arm around her, her hand between his thighs, his erection screaming for her.

  But, like the night before, he would slap himself with the label World’s Biggest Asshole if he’d taken advantage of her vulnerability. It nearly destroyed him to see the fear frozen on her face at breakfast when she endured a PTSD moment from her attack. He’d wanted to go back in time so he could rip the guy’s throat out.

  And he could have. He’d gone through training, some self-taught, some natural instinct, plus a few years of martial arts. The break-ins at his junkyard had forced him to learn real self-defense techniques. He’d discovered most of the scrappers who’d tried to help themselves to his property carried a knife. So he’d hired a pro to teach him how to use a knife and defend himself against one.

  Something he’d decided in the past ten minutes to teach Mindy. Although he had plenty of confidence in his ability to protect her, she needed some of that assurance for herself. A good life lesson situation. Whether or not they ended up together, he knew if anything ever happened to her he’d hunt down and kill the bastard. Giving her a sense of self-confidence, and avoiding a murder rap, seemed like the best outcome for all concerned.

  He finished his shower, slicked gel through his hair, dressed in a pair of Calvin Klein jeans and the t-shirt he hadn’t slept in last night, and then threw on his overcoat.

  “Are you leaving right now?” she questioned, seeing him dressed and ready to go.

  “Yes, and you’re coming with me.”

  She brightened. “Sightseeing?”

  “More like an errand.” He checked his watch. “But we should have time for a stop I think you’ll enjoy.”

  Leaping up from the desk chair, she clapped like a kid who was told she could have an extra hour of recess. He sent her a fond smile. Appreciation swelled in his chest and nudged his heart.

  Damn, she got to him. Every time her eyes lit up and she smiled like the world was made of sunshine and rainbows, he fell a little bit more in love with her. When he wasn’t with her he missed her, thought about her, worshipped her from afar.

  Too far, for too long.

  That was going to change. As soon as he found the right moment to show her how he felt, how much she meant to him.

  “Let me call our driver,” he said, “so we can get a head start on the day.”

  Once they’d settled into the back seat of the luxury ride, he gave the man instructions in Russian of the general area he wanted to go. At the request, the driver’s eyebrows lifted and disappeared under his cap. “Yes, sir,” he replied. They traveled down main streets then took a few turns until they entered a seedier part of town. The driver asked in Russian, “Any pawn shop?”

  Isaac replied, “One that specializes in weapons.” When the man’s eyes widened, Isaac explained. “We’re not going there to make trouble. Just to buy some protection for the lady’s peace of mind.”

  The driver nodded. “We will see it done.”

  Isaac thanked him, glad Mindy couldn’t understand the language. She might’ve grown concerned at his request.

  Eventually they pulled up to a dingy storefront with diamond-shaped grates inside the windows. She glanced past him. “I guess I get to see the real parts of the city, not the tourist stuff.”

  “We’ll see a tourist attraction, too. This is a brief detour.” When she exited the car he secured his arm around her and ushered her into the shop.

  Sad little bells clanged against the door when they entered. The smell of aged metal and mothballs filled the air.

  “Geez, what kind of place is this?” Reaching out, she touched a chainmail shirt on a mannequin torso as if she expected it to bite her. “Look at all these…” She swallowed. “Weapons.”

  He nodded and went straight to the smudged glass countertop. Inside lay a host of knives spread before him. Scanning them quickly, he found one that suited his purpose.

  “Hello?” Isaac called out his greeting in Russian, not wanting the owner to know his American status and risk getting raked over on the price.

  A round-bellied man emerged from a curtain that concealed a back room, and with him came the ripe odor of unwashed armpits. The man’s beady glare sized up Isaac then shifted to Mindy, undressing her with his eyes.

  Isaac slapped his hand on the counter. “I’m here to buy a knife.” He pointed at the piece he wanted from the selection. “This one.”

  The owner grunted and the smell of stale tobacco wafted over the counter. Then the rotund man shook his head, reaching behind him into a case containing an array of black market guns. “You want something like this. Solid gold, ivory detail in the handle. A showpiece.”

  Isaac took one look at the pistol and disagreed. He doubted the gun even fired. “No showpiece. I want something for practical defense.”

  Frowning, the man shrugged and muttered under his breath. He replaced the gun, locked the case, and withdrew the knife requested in the first place. Isaac picked it up, testing the weight and balance on his forefinger. Satisfied by the level of craftsmanship, he feathered his thumb along the blade. Unimpressed, he stated, “This needs sharpening.”

  The owner sent him a look that said, How is that my problem?

  With a loud exhale, Isaac requested a sharpening stone. At least the man produced that, a reluctant attempt at customer service. Isaac planned to bargain him down to the bone. Growing up around his uncles and cousins and the rest of the extended Atlas family, they’d helped him refine his negotiating skills. The perfect preparation for a career in sales. While cutthroat bargaining wasn’t the norm in most parts of America, his family had turned it into an art form. Sometimes they’d challenged each other to see who could get the best price for any item. From a Lamborghini to a can of Lysol, there was always a bargain to strike. The one key for the purchaser was his willingness to walk away. The loss of a sale was worse for a seller than losing a few bucks in profit. God, he loved his career.

  He felt a tug on his sleeve. He glanced down at Mindy, her petite stature appearing smaller and more fragile than usual. “Why do we need a knife?”

  “I’ll show you later. Let me pay for this then we’re out of here.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, she nodded. However, Isaac had revealed his crystal clear American speech. The owner’s eyes glittered like a snake oil salesman’s.

  I don’t think so, pal. Isaac spread his feet in a cocky stance and dove into the negotiations speaking flawless Russian. Long ago he’d mastered the art of reading body language, a priceless tool in a salesman’s arsenal of tactics. The only person he’d been careful not to use that with was Mindy. Everyone else was fair game.

  As he bargained with the owner, a surge of adrenaline spiked his veins. He enjoyed the game as much as the prize in the end. He played the man masterfully. He aimed for half the price the owner first quoted. He was five dollars off when the owner dug in his heels and refused to go lower. Thing was, Isaac always got what he wanted.

  After a few more minutes, he shrugged. “Then we’ll go someplace else and talk to someone who wants to make money.”

  Sliding his arm around Mindy’s waist, he turned her toward the door and lifted a finger to his lips in a gesture for silence. She stayed mute, though her puzzled expression was adorable.

  The owner dropped his fists to the counter with a dull thud. “Fine. It’s yours.”

  Isaac grinned then schooled his features into a mask of disinterest. He turned back to the man. “I don’t know that I still want it.”

  The owner glared them grumbled his final offer. Two dollars less than Isaac had planned to pay. Score.

  Walking back to the counter, he withdrew his wallet and paid cash for the knife at a dirt-cheap price. Pleased with the success, he pocketed the knife and hurried Mindy out the door.


  “What was that about back there?” Her dazed expression remained until they’d pulled away from the shop.

  He grinned. “My idea of fun.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” She eyed him with hesitation. “Are you going to tell me what the knife is for?”

  “That’s the purpose of knives like this. An extra level of protection.”

  She clicked her thumbnails together. “Then wouldn’t the gun have been a better choice?”

  “A knife is easily concealed and just as powerful when you know how to use it. I’m going to teach you some defense techniques when we get back to the hotel.”

  “Oh.” That seemed to soothe her nerves. “I’d like that.”

  “Consider it done.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “But first, we’re going on a tour.”

  Her eyes sparkled like sapphires. “Where?”

  He tapped her nose. “It’s a surprise. I think you’ll like it.”

  After giving the driver instructions, which the man already knew because Isaac had arranged this with him yesterday, he settled back into the soft cushion and watched the dozens of fascinating expressions that crossed her face as they went on a long winding drive through the city. Everything captured her interest. From a boy selling papers on the street corner to merchants with their carts stationed outside shops to colorful fall leaves floating in fountains that hadn’t yet frozen over.

  At one point, he asked the driver to crank up the heat in back, then urged her to roll down the window and experience every color and scent and sound. Chill wind streamed through her hair, turned her cheeks pink, and made her eyes over-bright. Stacking her arms on the edge of the window, she rested her chin on her coat sleeves. She smiled nonstop.

  Isaac imprinted this moment in his memory. Her expression of sheer bliss, almost spiritual, made her beauty ethereal. A soft sweet angel who’d been placed on earth just for him. To remind him of the sacredness of life. That he needed to slow down, look around, and appreciate what he’d accomplished…and dream about the future. Not in a hurry-up-and-arrive kind of way. More like lying on the banks of a slow river on a lazy Sunday afternoon, remembering far-flung hopes from the past, back when reality and logic and planning didn’t interfere with daydreaming. Imagination in full bloom. No ideas beyond the realm of possibility. No limits. Just pure freedom.