Her Covert Protector (Rogue Protectors Book 4)

by Victoria Paige

  John closed the back door and slid on the bolt. “I hope you didn’t trash my credibility as a super spy.”

  “Don’t worry. Your credibility is intact.”

  “Thank God.” He drew her into his arms, his eyes full of speculation. Her chin was tipped up to him, and a smile tugged at her lips.

  They were in the kitchen. And she was reminded of their hot encounter this morning.

  His blue eyes narrowed. “There’s more.”

  “It’s funny. I couldn’t explain that you were more than a hard-nosed CIA officer until I mentioned the Locke Demon to him.

  John drew back. “The what?”

  An exasperated sigh escaped her. “The Locke Demon, John. It’s the breakout character from the last season of Hodgetown. You do know what Hodgetown is?”

  “Of course.”

  She raised a brow.

  He looked away in exasperation before returning his attention to her. “Theo’s show. I’ve watched a few episodes when I was putting together a file on Gabby’s division.”

  “Of course,” she replied with candor. Trust John to be thorough when he was researching a job. “Anyway, the Locke Demon is a creature who used to be a man. Cursed with no emotions and meant to guard the thin line separating the dimension of monsters and humans.”

  John’s eyes grew progressively slitted. “You compared me to this creature.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “This unfeeling demon.”

  Nadia laughed briefly. “The point is, my dad finally understood that there may be hope for you yet.”

  “What exactly is the problem here?”

  “You heard Gabby. She compared you to a cyborg.”

  “Christ. How callous do people think I am?”

  “Hmmm… I remember Gabby saying that Declan said you’d throw your own mother under a bus.”

  He let out an intelligible string of expletives. “Declan said that?”

  The expression on his face begged for closer scrutiny. “You seem weirdly offended.”

  “And I shouldn’t be?” he barked. John let go of her and marched to his duffel bag to unearth a bottle of Scotch. She wondered what else he kept in there, because he seemed like a magician pulling rabbits from its depths these days. He searched the cabinets for a glass, grabbed one, and poured whisky into it.

  He seemed really, really … hurt. Hmmn. “I thought you’d be wearing it like a badge of honor.”

  “I can’t believe Declan would say that.” He sipped on the whisky.

  “It might not be his own words,” she hedged.

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “They’re exaggerating. And if it makes you feel better, Gabby also added that Declan said you’d risk your life first before others.”

  “Whatever.” He took another measured nip at his whisky and stalked away from her to scoop up his duffel. The impassive expression she hadn’t seen on John’s face since he returned from Kiev was back. “Which room should I take?”

  Wow, he didn’t even ask to share a room.

  Why was she feeling hurt?

  “There are only two rooms and mine is the one beside the kitchen.”

  He stalked, or rather, stomped away from her.

  “Wait. Are you mad?”

  He stopped and glared at her over his shoulder. “Maybe. I don’t know what I’m feeling anymore.”

  “Is this about the ‘mother under the bus’ remark? You know the guys are just speaking metaphorically.”

  He shot her a derisive smile. “Yeah, but I happen to have a mother I love very much.”

  With that statement he disappeared into the hallway between the rooms and then she heard the door slam.

  But what was reverberating in her head was the weird fact that John Garrison, who many had joked had sprouted from the ground fully formed, actually had a mother.

  Since when did he become a fucking snowflake? John thought savagely.

  No, it had nothing to do with the ‘mother under the bus’ remark although that had grated on his nerves more than any insult thrown his way. And there had been many. He was usually a Teflon shield about these things. Nothing fazed him. It was nothing personal, just the job.

  He realized he was circling the room like a caged animal, so he sunk into the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, and linked his hands, flicking his thumbs together to give his fingers something to do.

  This was personal.

  That was the difference.

  Fuck.

  He needed to get a grip. The deeper he got involved with Nadia, barbs that didn’t affect him before would take on a new meaning. He’d just been compared to a demon for fuck’s sakes. An unfeeling demon at that. He was realizing more and more that he had a lot of work ahead of him, but John didn’t want to pretend to be someone else.

  At least not with Nadia and the people she cared about.

  They were going to see the real him.

  Except John wasn’t sure which one was the real him. Over his long career as a CIA operative, he’d assumed several identities. Each time he would absorb a nuance of that identity after a mission, adding a layer of that person to the core of him and each time that happened, it hardened the shell around his heart, strengthened the compartments in his head. In recent weeks, the shell had started to crack as shades of the man he used to be seeped through those spaces and started manifesting itself in his actions.

  Shit, he just left her out there. There was some relief in knowing he could still be an asshole. Shaking his head, he got up from the bed, went to the closet, and slid a pocket door open to stuff his bag inside, but it was a tight fit. Columns of clothes in clear garment protectors took up majority of the space. No. Not clothes exactly. He peered closer. Costumes.

  Nadia talked about cosplaying before she joined the LAPD. Is that why he was drawn to her? In some ways, they were the same. They formed a kinship in the way they slid into a second skin. John did it for a job, and he had an inkling of why she did it. It went back again to the time she was twelve.

  The puzzle pieces that made up Nadia Powell began to fall into place.

  A light rap on the door followed by its opening called his attention.

  Nadia ducked her head into the room. “Is it safe to come in?”

  An unbidden smile touched his lips. “Smartass. Come in.”

  She entered the room and padded to his side as he returned his attention to the things in the closet.

  “Careful, you might find some of my skeletons in there,” she teased.

  John chuckled because there was indeed a skeleton bodysuit among them. “Was this for cosplay or Halloween?”

  “Both,” Nadia said. “Speaking of which, Halloween is in two weeks.”

  There was an open-ended question in her statement, so he cocked his head her way. “No.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s going to be fun. Our division used to have a contest. Now that we’ve broken off into a task force, it’s going to be more intimate.”

  John didn’t answer, but carefully shut the closet, contemplating the wood panel before he leaned against it and faced her. “Convince me.”

  She grinned. “I’ll think of something. Maybe you can go as one of the Hodgetown monsters.”

  “The demon thing.”

  “Yes, but it’s too recent. I don’t think they’d have any good replicas.”

  “You do realize Levi’s wife is a makeup and special effects guru on the series,” John said.

  “Oh my God, you think you can ask him?”

  “I was saving my requests to her for emergency purposes.” He was opportunistic. John admitted this to a certain degree and knew Levi’s wife was a great resource if he ever needed to build a cover—physically.

  But seeing Nadia’s face light up at the prospect of having access to a Hollywood special effects expert sent a jolt through him. An overwhelming desire to make it his mission to put that expression on her face every fucking time settled inside him
. That genuine Nadia smile.

  “Okay, okay… wait,” she continued. “We might not want to waste it for a simple Halloween costume contest at the office.” But then again, the way he could see the gears turning in her head made him wary of whatever scheme she was cooking up in that brain of hers. It was a conundrum. What attracted him to her also terrified him. “StreamCon is happening the week before Thanksgiving and it’s in LA.”

  “StreamCon? Sounds familiar.”

  “Yes! It’s similar to ComicCon but dedicated to streaming networks.” She glanced up at him expectantly.

  He grew warier. “What?”

  “We can go.”

  “When you say we, you mean you, right?” John said dryly. “I’ll go with you but only one of us is going in costume and it ain’t going to be me.”

  “What do you have against costuming up anyway? You do it all the time,” Nadia grumbled.

  “Don’t want to lose my street cred lumbering around in a one-ton body suit.”

  Nadia laughed. “Now that’d be hard to imagine you doing. You slip in and out of places with ease.” Her brows furrowed. “Which reminds me of the reason I came into this room before I found you snooping through my closet—”

  “I wasn’t snooping. I was trying to be considerate and not leave my shit lying around. You might kick me out.”

  “Somehow I think you don’t like leaving ‘shit’”—she air quoted the word—“around. Anyway, if we’re going to work closely, you need to let me know how to deal with this new John Garrison.”

  What the hell is she talking about? “I’m still me.”

  “Hmm … maybe. Why is this the first time I’ve heard of your mother. Who else knows?”

  John shrugged. “Only Bristow and Kade Spear.” And the admiral of course.

  “Not Declan and Levi?”

  “I haven’t known them as long as I’ve known Spear and Bristow.” In a way, he and Kade had come full circle. He rescued the former green beret from an Al Qaeda prison when the DoD didn’t launch any plan to rescue him. And now Kade had extracted them from the Ukrainian dungeon. “It’s not really a secret, but it’s not something I’d advertise.”

  She stared at him for a second longer. “Is your real name even John Garrison?”

  “I’ve been John Garrison for a long time.” He kept his focus on her eyes and tried not to stray to the exposed skin of her legs. Legs that were wrapped around his head earlier this morning while he consumed her. Christ, he could still remember her taste on his tongue. He erased the distance between them, still not letting his gaze leave her face. He gently drew her in and lowered his head, loving the way her breath caught, and how her eyes darkened. She wanted him.

  He captured her lips in a slow lingering kiss, and then he raised his head, drinking in the features he found so compelling. “Jacob,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Jacob Mason is my real name.”

  Nadia’s slow smile sent a ripple through him. “Well, hello, Jacob Mason.”

  16

  “I’ll do it when we get home.” Nadia glared at the man holding her coffee hostage. Didn’t he know he just put his life in peril? “Now give me that.”

  “Why can’t you take the test now?” John insisted.

  “Because I may still get my period later, and it’s too early.” She extended her hand. “Hand it over, Garrison, if you value your life.”

  He deposited the travel mug in her hand, and she stalked out the door. “We’re running late as it is,” she threw over her shoulder, leaving John to lock up since he liked reminding her so much about upgrading the security of her apartment.

  Surveillance-wise, she had everyone’s apartment wired. And that was Dad, Clyde, Dugal, and Arthur’s in addition to her own. What she needed was extra hardware for the doors and to hook those up to what she already had.

  John caught up with her just as she reached the staircase. “Relax,” he said. “We’re driving straight to the scene, and we’ll probably get there before Gabby and Kelso. The ATMs aren’t going anywhere.”

  “True, and it could be another false lead,” she grumbled. Promising leads in the past week turned out to be dead ends. A computer glitch here and there, denial of service attacks, and a few incidents similar to the call out this morning had turned out to be ATM skimmers. Her pulse quickened, but what if it was the real deal this time. There were seven reports in a three-mile radius.

  “You won’t be able to do anything without permission from the bank’s IT, right?” John asked.

  “Correct. But they usually have their ATM techs already there before they call us. And since it’s not a singular bank, that means different IT departments. We’re also there to give advice and take their statements. I should have set my wake-up alarm,” she groaned. Instead of the smooth crescendo of her morning alarm, the blare of her call-out notification jolted her awake from her position on the couch where she’d been sleeping horizontal with her feet propped on Garrison’s lap.

  “Someone suggested starting the Hodgetown series last night,” John said.

  “It’s good, right?”

  “You fell asleep,” he reminded her.

  Nadia laughed. “I did, didn’t I? I’ve already rewatched season one a couple of times. I swear every time I do, I find an easter egg I missed the first time.”

  “I hope you’re not suggesting I watch it a couple of times. I’d rather you fill me in on what I missed.”

  “You’re such a spoilsport. Did you sleep at all?” she asked. “You should’ve just left my ass on the couch and gone to the bedroom.”

  “It wasn’t so bad, and I can sleep anywhere,” he told her. “Besides, I’d carry you to bed first before I’d leave you on the couch.”

  When they made it to the ground floor, she said, “Hah! We managed to escape the apartment without Clyde cornering us.”

  John chuckled. “Think again.”

  She glanced up from looking for her keys and sighed. Clyde and Arthur were returning from their morning walk.

  “A bit late for you guys, isn’t it?” she called. John held out his hand for her keys. She hesitated for a moment, but the quicker they made their getaway, the better. He beeped the locks.

  “What’s the verdict?” Clyde asked.

  “Verdict on what?” Nadia knew exactly what they were asking. She yanked the door open.

  “Are we pregnant or not?” the older man asked in exasperation.

  “Well, Clyde, I don’t know yet.” She climbed into the Subaru without waiting for his answer. John already had the vehicle backing up.

  “Well, when will you find out?” he yelled as they passed the two men.

  Nadia just grinned and waved.

  John muttered. “The great escape.”

  That it was.

  “You can’t dodge them forever. You know that, right?” John told her after they emerged from the drive-thru for breakfast burritos. Nadia was craving them hard this morning.

  “I know.” She took a giant bite out of one and chased it with coffee.

  “You should have done it this morning.”

  She ignored him and took another chunk out of the wrap, chewed very slowly before she put it down, and turned in her seat to face him. “One more word out of you and I’m going to wait until this weekend—which is three more days—to pee on that damned stick.”

  The Subaru made a turn on South Highland Avenue.

  He glanced briefly at her. “You couldn’t wait until Saturday.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “Jesus, didn’t expect this part to be stressful.”

  “Why are you stressed?” she asked.

  “Finding out whether I’m going to be a father or not—that’s not stressful? Aren’t you even a little anxious?”

  Nadia didn’t answer. She was trying very hard not to think of the eight pregnancy boxes in her apartment.

  “I don’t want to be distracted at work.”

  “Wouldn’t you be—”


  “Stop it!” she hissed. “You’re the one stressing me out. Geez, John.”

  He exhaled heavily. “I’m not doing this shit right.”

  They fell into silence. Traffic was starting to back up as they approached Wilshire Boulevard.

  “You’re always pragmatic,” she finally said when their vehicle crossed the intersection. “The voice of reason. Can you be that for me right now? Before I eat myself sick.” Her stomach started protesting everything she just put in it.

  He reached over and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m such an ass about this.”

  “I realize we’re handling this situation differently,” she said. “It’s just that when I missed my period this morning, I kinda panicked.” She was still hoping that all the stress since Mexico was the cause of all this. “I just, I just want to reiterate, that if it turns out I’m having your baby, I won’t stand in the way of you wanting a relationship with him … or her. But I don’t want you to feel obligated to have a relationship with me too.”

  John released her hand and clutched the steering wheel with both hands. The temperature in the cabin dropped significantly, and when she chanced a peek at him, every angle of his jaw was stark. What she just said must have pissed him off, but Nadia wanted to get that off her chest. She didn’t want him to feel trapped to be with her. Hysterical laughter threatened to burst from her lips at how ridiculous they were jumping the gun on things. She swallowed. She did miss her period this morning.

  Oh God.

  After another ten minutes of chilly silence, and as they sat in traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard, John said in a measured tone, “I understand where you’re coming from, but I’m shutting down that shit right now—

  “John—”

  “Quiet and listen,” he snapped. “Because there’s something we should be clear about. Me wanting to be with you has nothing to do with the possibility of you being pregnant. It may have accelerated my timetable but can’t say I’m regretting it. I’m actually looking forward to it.”