by Cat Johnson
Or worse, some muscle-bound, bouncer-type bruiser who had more brawn than brains.
Neither scenario was appealing.
Thanks to Roger’s insistence, once her human watchdog arrived, it would be a full twenty-four/seven with no private time to herself. That would be a living hell.
Maybe the police would have some leads on who had sent those pictures soon. That was the only hope to end this nightmare.
“What if I got a gun?” The idea hit her from out of the blue.
Her announcement must have hit Roger just as suddenly. He choked as he swallowed his coffee. “Excuse me?”
“If I had a gun, I could protect myself. I wouldn’t need your guard. If I got some sort of holster, I could bring it with me while I was out for a run—“
“No. Definitely not.”
“Why not?”
He shook his head, looking more distraught. Why? She’d come up with what seemed like a really good solution to the problem.
“Sierra, this person could be crazy. They could drive up next to you and throw you in the back of a van before you ever got your gun out of your jogging holster.”
Just what she needed—the image of being kidnapped and thrown into a windowless van. “Thanks so much for putting that very vivid visual into my head.”
“You needed me to. Sugarcoating this won’t do you any good.”
“You’ve never sugarcoated anything in your life.”
“Nope. That’s why you are where you are.” Roger reached out and squeezed the back of her neck. “And why you love me.”
“You’re lucky I do love you or you’d be on the unemployment line.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“I still want a handgun.”
“And I want a month off in Tahiti with those hottie male strippers from Magic Mike. I figure we both have about equal chance of getting what we want.”
Sierra tipped her head to one side. “Well, I do know the casting director who worked on that movie so . . .”
“No gun, sweetie.”
“Can we just go to the store and look at—”
“No. I’m going to make a few phone calls and see what’s happening with that security. You relax. Go take a bath or something.” He pressed a kiss to her head and in essence, dismissed her like she was a child.
Relax. Ha! Not much chance of that happening while he was on the phone checking on the ETA of her bodyguard to protect her from her stalker.
Sierra moved to the window in the living area. The curtains were closed tightly making the room feel dark in spite of the lamps being on. The whole room felt smaller and stifling but Roger had insisted the curtains remain closed and the police had agreed.
She used one finger to separate the edges of the two curtains just a crack and peered through. It was late enough in the evening that it was dark outside. That made her feel moderately better. It felt worse being cooped up when the sun was shining brightly.
Was he there, outside, watching? He might be.
He or she, Sierra reminded herself. There was nothing proving the photographer was a man. It could be a woman.
What motivation did this person have? Hate? Love? Obsession?
Freaked out now, just from thinking about what might be going on in the mind of her stalker, she let the curtain fall back into place. She stepped back farther into the room and away from the window.
Roger stepped up behind her. “He’ll be here tonight.”
“Tonight?” Surprised, she turned to face Roger. She’d figured this person would start work in the morning.
“Yes. They’re taking this seriously, Sierra. As you should be.”
That strange sensation, the same feeling of doom she had when she first saw that envelope in her trailer, still niggled in the back of her brain. Whatever sixth sense she had, she had to learn to trust it. She was going to heed it this time.
She turned toward Roger. “Okay. I will. I do.”
He lifted a brow. “You’ll cooperate with them? Do what they say?”
God, how she hated being told what to do.
“Yes.” That she’d agreed proved to her, and probably to Roger as well, exactly how unsettled she was.
CHAPTER 5
When everyone who was coming was there, including Zane who’d just strolled in, Jon opened his notebook on the table. “So we’ve got two things on tonight’s agenda.”
That there were two possible jobs for GAPS made Rick happy enough he could ignore his hatred of the concept of them having an agenda.
He’d gladly suffer through meetings and agendas if the end result was him on a mission, hopefully wearing a weapon a bit more exciting than the one he had for work, but he was in no position to be picky.
At this point he’d take what he could get in the action department.
Jon tapped the end of his pencil on the pad of paper as he glanced around the table. “First up, we got a consulting gig.”
The joy bubbling inside Rick didn’t diminish just because the first job sounded more like they’d be pushing papers than pulling triggers. Consulting could be fun. It could entail live demos or training.
Using his own years of training to kick the ass of some green trainees—yeah, he could get into that.
“Where?” Rick asked, jumping the gun even though he was sure Jon would have gotten to that point eventually.
Jon’s usual poker face broke. He grinned as he said, “The meeting’s set for next week at Camp Lemonier.”
“Djibouti?” Chris whooped at that announcement. “Hell, yeah.”
Brody laughed. “Congrats, bro. That’s huge.”
Huge enough, even Zane put down his phone long enough to participate in the conversation. “Yes, sir. We’re being brought in as civilian contractors to analyze and advise. They’re moving the protection and education of ships’ crews in the Gulf of Aden to the private sector. Piracy in that area is actually on the decline the past couple of years. And the military is a little busy at the moment with the current situation in Yemen.”
“Yeah, I guess all out civil war just a few miles across the water is enough to get the big guys’ attention.”
Rick knew Brody was right. That a consulting job for GAPS, taking place at the Joint Task Force’s base in Africa, was a huge step up. And if they landed the gig to train the shipping corporations’ crews—a job like that could only help GAPS grow and move forward, but the reality was that this job did nothing for Rick’s current malaise. He couldn’t pick up and fly to the Horn of Africa, no matter how willing Mike had been to cover some extra shifts.
He rallied his support. What was good for the company was good for him. He’d have to repeat that mantra at his next shift at work.
Rick forced a smile. “That’s great, man.”
“Yeah, it’s big. Which is why I was hoping we could all take a look at what information they sent us and do some prep work tonight, but then I got a call with a situation that needs to be handled immediately. He just called again right before Zane got here and he needs someone there like now.”
Rick’s happiness bubble re-inflated. “I can do it.”
Jon lifted a brow. “You don’t even know what it is.”
“I don’t care. Dude, if I don’t get some action, things are going to get ugly.”
“There’s girls at the club just off base that can take care of that.” Chris grinned.
Although he’d been lacking in that area too, Rick leveled a tolerant gaze at his friend. “That’s not the kind of action I’m talking about.”
Ignoring the exchange about strippers, Jon asked, “What’s your availability?”
Rick was happy to inform him he was free and clear—at least for the near future. “I’m off for the next two days and after that I can probably get coverage.”
“All right. It’s yours.”
The smile was too huge for Rick to even try and control it, not that he wanted to. He was happy to have a mission and he didn’t care who knew it.
&
nbsp; “What are the details?” Rick asked.
“Basic close protection. Twenty-four seven for an indeterminate amount of time,” Jon began.
His mind spun with the possibilities. The client might be a politician who wasn’t eligible for Secret Service protection so was hiring from the private sector. That was probably the case. Besides the fact that Zane had political connections, GAPS was located near enough to Washington, D.C. they should probably expect to get a lot of politicians for clients.
Jon continued, “As far as I can tell it’ll only require one man on at a time. You and Chris should be able to handle it even while Zane and I are in Djibouti. Between all of us, we should be able tag team this thing and take shifts to make sure she’s covered at all times.”
“She?” That little detail piqued Rick’s curiosity further.
One glance around the table told him that Chris and Brody’s interest in the details of this assignment had heightened as well.
Zane shook his head. “Now you’ve really got their attention.”
“Yeah, I see that.” Jon let out a snort.
“So who is this mysterious she?” Chris asked.
“You ever hear of Sierra Cox?” Jon asked.
“You mean Sierra Cox the actress?” Chris asked as Rick’s eyes widened at the thought.
“That’s the one.” Jon nodded.
“Uh, yeah. I’ve heard of her.” Chris shot Rick a glance before looking back to Jon. “That’s who this security gig is for?”
“Yup.” Jon turned to Rick. “You up for this?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He wasn’t sure if he should be insulted by that question or not.
“Because she’s got a bit of a reputation for being . . . difficult.” Zane’s tone hinted at the challenge that would be facing them all as her security team.
“More difficult than that ass of a general we had to escort around Ramadi because he wanted a tour of the hot zone?” Brody’s question raised a memory they all shared.
It was an event that had taken place years ago when they’d all been on active duty. Before Chris had retired. Before Rick’s knee blew out. Before Jon and Zane had turned in their paperwork to try and make a go of it as private military contractors.
Jon grinned. “Probably about the same, I’m guessing.”
Chris chuckled. “Makes sense. One diva is just like another, right?”
The truth was, Rick didn’t care how difficult this Sierra Cox was. It was a mission and he was happy to have it. Rick leaned forward. “You said they want us to start immediately?”
“Yup.” Jon dipped his head. “Her manager just called to confirm.”
Rick eyed Jon’s notebook on the table. “Write down the details. I’m ready to go.”
Truer words had never been spoken. He was more than ready to get started on this assignment, and only a small portion of that anticipation had to do with the fact he’d be guarding the body of the person named last year’s Sexiest Woman on Earth.
CHAPTER 6
The knock on the door interrupted Sierra’s attempt at finding peace and quiet in the midst of this stalker hell that had become her reality . . . that is if she could call the noise a knock.
It was much more like a pounding. One so loud she heard it all the way from the bathtub in her suite.
“Roger? Are you out there?” She yelled the question through the closed bathroom door but since the noise continued, she had to assume he’d gone.
He had said he might run downstairs to grab a Starbucks quick while she tried to relax in the tub.
When he’d second-guessed that decision, saying he was afraid to leave her alone even for a few minutes before the security got here, she’d insisted he was crazy. She was locked in not just the suite, but also in the bathroom. What could happen?
Since the relaxation portion of her bath was definitely done now after the interruption, she sighed and heaved herself out of the water.
It had begun to get too cool for her taste anyway. Give her a scorching bath and she was a happy girl.
Standing, she reached for the towel as the water dripped off her skin tinged pink from the hot bath.
As the pounding continued, she opened the bathroom door and shouted, “One minute!”
Whoever was at the door might not be able to hear her but it was the best she could do at the moment. She wrestled the robe hanging on the back of the door over her wet arms and tied the belt tight as the pounding, thankfully, stopped.
“About time.” She mumbled the complaint under her breath to the empty room as she padded barefoot past the king-size bed and through the door into the living room of the suite.
The sound of a keycard in the lock of the door leading to the hall had her stopping dead in her tracks. It could be Roger, coming back in. But he wouldn’t have knocked. He had a key.
What if it was her stalker? He could have been knocking to see if she was inside and alone. Now that it was apparent she was, he was coming in. He could have knocked Roger out and taken his key. Or possibly stolen a master key from housekeeping.
Horrible scenarios flew through her head as she stood and waited, helpless, for the door to open and reveal who was on the other side. What fate awaited her.
Panicked, she looked for the nearest object she could use to defend herself. The lamp on the desk was glass. That would just break over the stalker’s head and make him madder.
Why was there no pointy, metal letter opener? Then she could stab—
“Hello?” The deep male voice had her heart stopping.
“I have a gun. Don’t come any closer.” She was an actor, and a good one, so the idle threat sounded authentic to her. And dammit, tomorrow she was getting herself a gun for real. She didn’t care what Roger said about it.
Whoever it was must have believed her lie about the gun. The door to the hallway remained partly open, but he didn’t walk through. He stayed shielded safely behind the heavy wood. “Ms. Cox. I’m Rick Mann from GAPS.”
What the fuck was GAPS? “I don’t care who you are. Why do you have a key to my room?”
“I met with your manager in the lobby. He gave me a key. Look, if I could just come in—“
“No! Stay where you are. I’m calling Roger.”
“Sierra, I’m right here.” Roger’s voice had her able to breathe again, but she was no less angry and her heart continued to pound.
“Why did you give him a key?” She frowned at her manager as he came through the door, followed by a hulk of a man who dwarfed him in height and size.
“Because he’s going to need one if he’s going to be coming in and out with you for the foreseeable future.” Roger’s calm demeanor about a strange, not to mention large man coming into her suite while she was in the tub made Sierra madder.
“If is the operative word in that statement. I haven’t decided if I’ll be going with his services.” She spat the words as she eyed the man, who had gone from watching the exchange between her and Roger to visually surveying the room.
“I can assure you he’s more than qualified.” As Roger spoke, this Rick person closed the door to the hallway.
“Hold on. I didn’t say you could stay.”
“You can decide if I stay or go while the door is secured. There’s someone at least watching you, possibly out to harm you. Let’s not leave the door open for him to do it, okay?”
The hulk was right, of course, but for some reason that only pissed her off. “Fine.”
He moved farther into the room, heading for the windows. Lifting the curtain, he glanced outside, before letting it fall back into place and adjusting it so there was no crack visible between the two panels. He glanced up at the ceiling, squinting at the smoke detector mounted there.
When he pulled a chair over and stood on it to get a closer look at the mechanism, she couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “What are you doing?”
“Checking for surveillance.” He glanced in her direction before focusing on dismantling the hotel’s p
roperty.
“Holy shit. I never even considered that.” Roger sighed. “See, Sierra. This is why we need him and his company.”
“Be careful. They’ll probably charge me for that if you break it.”
“I won’t break it.” This time he didn’t even look at her when he spoke, which was probably better since there were now wires hanging out of the ceiling.
“If you get electrocuted, it’s not my fault.”
He laughed, surprising her. Then, the device was back where it belonged. Intact and looking none the worse for his tampering. Even the little red light was blinking away as usual.
Rick stepped down off the chair and moved it back to where he’d gotten it. “Finished and without being electrocuted. Sorry to disappoint you.” He turned to Roger. “There’s no camera in that, but I’d like to bring in equipment and sweep the room for anything that I might miss in a manual inspection.”
Roger’s eyes widened. “You think someone might have planted a bug in here?”
The blond beast dipped his head. “It’s possible. That’s how they could be getting tipped off as to her schedule and movements. People move easily in and out of hotel rooms. House keeping. Maintenance. Anyone could have been in here while you all were out.”
And Roger had accused her of being paranoid in the past? This guy took the prize for paranoia.
“Mr. Mann, no one has to bug my room to know my schedule. Between fans and paparazzi, my every move is broadcast all over social media in seconds.”
He lifted one shoulder, as if he was too lazy for a full shrug. “I’d think that would be one reason why you’d at least want privacy in your own room.”
“Bring in the equipment.” As Roger authorized this sweep, Sierra had to think that bugs—of the surveillance variety, not the other kind—would be less intrusive than Mr. Six-Foot-Five here.
Even if he did have blue eyes and blonde hair and muscles that made his short-sleeved collared shirt fit a little too tightly.
Men like him were a dime a dozen in Hollywood and not a one had ever tempted her. Sierra knew from personal experiences that there was always some flaw. A huge deal breaker that made the single life preferable to pairing off with any one of them.