“I wasn’t aware of any threats, sir.” News to him and strange he hadn’t heard. He should’ve been the first person notified with such a serious matter. She was, after all, his responsibility.
Hewitt waved a negligent hand. “Minor stuff, not enough to get you riled up. Quite frankly, she annoys people, Russell. And this needs to stop.”
Mason frowned. Hewitt had referred to his daughter as a nuisance more than once. It irritated him, how dense the man could be.
Couldn’t he see how badly Blake needed his attention? His love?
“And because of everything she’s done, I don’t think it’s safe to keep her around. I have no idea what she has planned next,” Hewitt continued.
Disbelief surged through Mason. “Sir, do you really think she has something planned?”
“I have no idea. I never know what she’s going to do.”
Mason kept silent.
“I’m sending her away and you’ll accompany her. She prefers it there on the island. She can relax, be herself and not cause any problems. Her recklessness is dangerous to my reputation.”
She wasn’t reckless. The woman was too lonely. Something her neglectful parents didn’t realize and probably never would.
He’d observed her more than once out with her so-called friends. The people who surrounded her, they used her because of who she was and what she had. Growing up a trust fund baby, her mother’s family’s wealth and status were well known. And being the daughter of a mayor, a senator, and ultimately the vice president earned her a lot of attention from phonies and users.
Her loneliness was so palpable Mason couldn’t understand why no one noticed. Why he was the only one perceptive enough to see it.
The haunting look in her eyes made him secretly ache for her.
“You must keep an extra close eye on my daughter, Russell. The second you think something’s wrong, I want you to contact me.” Hewitt stared at him hard, his expression unreadable.
“Absolutely, sir,” Mason agreed with a nod.
“I won’t tolerate her careless behavior any longer.” With an angry flick of his fingers, Hewitt sent the magazine flying and it landed with a loud plop on the floor. “Get rid of this. I can’t stand to look at it.”
The tired expression on Hewitt’s face said it all—he was done with him as well. Mason bent and snagged the magazine from the ground, tucked it under his arm and exited the office without another word.
The tabloid fairly burned a hole on the inside of his arm but he refused to look at it. He’d done that this morning, stared at Blake’s pretty, smiling face. Her irresistible, hot body called for his touch. In his dreams, anyway.
He never thought photos of a woman in a bikini could turn into beat off material at his age, but that was before he saw these particular photos of Blake. The one woman who occupied his secret dreams, his wicked fantasies—the woman he could never have.
Now he had another copy to add to his beat off collection. Mason practically growled in irritation.
Fucking perfect.
Chapter Two
Blake needed to talk. And considering Mason was her only choice, he’d have to deal.
Not that he ever protested. From what she could tell, Mason hated talking, was a man of few words, lots of nods and the occasional non-committal grunt.
It made for the perfect relationship. She preferred him to the previous agent who’d briefly been assigned to her protection. Who’d quickly been reassigned for whatever reason, she couldn’t remember.
Mason at least tolerated her. The other one acted as if she were a giant pain in the ass.
It helped that she could stare at the deliciously hunky Mason all day long. Those broad shoulders, his firm backside accentuated to perfection in the outrageously expensive suit trousers he wore. And then there was that hard yet beautiful, purely masculine face. The line of his jaw, the slant of his cheekbones—even the angle of his nose made her feel all quivery inside.
A shiver moved through her. God, she was pitiful.
“My father is so angry. It’s like he’s accusing me of doing this on purpose.”
He didn’t say a word, didn’t even offer one of his usual non-committal grunts. He simply remained quiet beside her as they walked toward her car, his stride long and easy.
She didn’t understand how a man of such size could move with such grace.
“I thought I could trust Shannon. Of course, I didn’t know everyone at the party so maybe it really was my fault.” She nibbled on her lower lip, remembering the phone conversation with Shannon last night. Her friend denied any involvement and Blake wanted to believe her. But she didn’t know if she could anymore. She didn’t know who she could trust.
Well, she did know one person—Mason. It was his job to protect her. He would never do her wrong.
Blake glanced around, feeling guilty for the relief that surged through her when she couldn’t find her mother. They were at the vice president’s private residential quarters and she was ready to escape. With her ever-present, always sexy shadow next to her.
Mason was still silent, staring straight ahead, those dark sunglasses preventing her from really seeing him or his reactions.
“I haven’t talked to my mother yet. I’m sure she’s mad at me too.” At the very least she was disappointed, resigned with her only child’s irresponsible behavior.
She could hear her mother saying those exact words in her head.
“Why would she be mad at you?”
His question, spoken in that deliciously deep voice of his, curled through her, making her warm, making her wistful. She wondered what it was like, having that rumbling voice whisper sexy-sweet words in her ear.
God help her, she wished she could find out.
“I disappointed her,” she said with a shrug.
Silence again.
“I always disappoint them.”
He stared at her, she could feel it, saw it in the way his head tilted downward, his sensual mouth drawn tight. She glanced at him and he looked away, feigning nonchalance, but she saw it. Saw him.
“I do,” Blake insisted. She held her breath, waited for him to say something, anything to keep the conversation going.
He didn’t reply, just continued walking, keeping pace. Holding the door open for her as a gentleman would.
He was a gentleman, born and bred, raised in Virginia before he’d enlisted in the Navy. Those minor facts she’d had to practically rip out of him since he’d been assigned to keep tabs on her. And that was pretty much all she knew.
Oh, she also knew he smelled delicious, like a forest on a crisp, cold winter’s day. And he had strong hands and arms she fantasized about on an almost daily basis.
God. She had turned into such a cliché, it was almost painful.
The air was brisk, slapping her like an invisible wall when they ventured outside and she drew in a deep breath, tugged her sweater closer. Even though it was early fall, the weather was surprisingly cold. Especially considering she’d splashed around in a pool only a week ago.
“Should’ve worn a heavier coat,” Mason muttered as they walked down the stairs and toward her car parked in front of the house.
She laughed. “What, are you turning into my father? Telling me what to do?”
“Ms. Hewitt, we need to talk.”
She halted at his words, at the way he called her Ms. Hewitt. She hated that. It was so formal and she much preferred hearing that low, melting voice say her name. “What do we need to talk about?”
“Your father. He’s concerned.”
Right. She knew that. Her father didn’t want her doing any more so-called humiliating things to ruin his career.
Blake frowned. She so didn’t need to go there. It would only hurt too much.
“I’m sure he’s very concerned.” She shook her head, yanked the key ring from her purse and hit the keyless remote. Her car beeped and the headlights flashed once, letting her know it unlocked. “I appreciate your concern
as well, Mason. But I’ll be fine.”
His mouth went tight, that extremely sexy mouth. It was right up there in her fantasies too. She could only imagine being kissed by him. His lips pressed against the base of her throat, sliding across her skin, wrapping around one hard nipple and then the other, sucking and licking and...
Another, more pronounced shiver moved through her and she tried to focus.
“I don’t know the full details yet but there’ve been—threats made since the article broke.”
She stopped in front of her car and turned to cast a skeptical glance in Mason’s direction. Crossing her arms in front of her, she waited for him to finish.
He didn’t. He just stood there watching her.
“Threats? Like against my life? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m not.” He shook his head, his expression grim. “We’re meeting in a half hour to discuss it.”
“Discuss me?” When he nodded, she rested her hands on her hips, indignation flowing through her. “Take off those damn sunglasses, Russell.”
He did as she asked, always seeming to move into action when someone used his last name. Probably the military part of him still shining through. He whipped those glasses off with a quick flick of his wrist, and she drew in a sharp breath.
Goodness, he was handsome. It hit her like a punch in the stomach every time he trained that intense green stare on her.
“You’re telling me the truth. There have been threats regarding my life since I appeared in that stupid magazine.”
He nodded again, his mouth still grim though at least now she could look him in the eye. And look him in the eye she did, savoring every blessed moment of it too. His gaze wandered over her face, then lower, lower still. Making her want to ask exactly what he was looking at.
But she held herself in check. Thrust her chest out a little to give him a better view.
“What kind of threats?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll find out.” She knew without a doubt he spoke the truth.
And then he did the unthinkable. A move so unlike the Mason Russell she knew, she wasn’t sure if she should be shocked, offended or read more into his actions.
He touched her, pressed his warm, strong fingers against her forearm for the quickest moment, his touch burning through the layers of her clothing. Her skin tingled from the too-brief contact.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you,” he added quietly.
I’ll take care of you. Such lovely words with such a sexy promise, spoken by the one man who often chose not to speak at all. Those words should’ve reassured her, made her feel secure, but she couldn’t help the slow warmth suffusing her veins, washing over her skin.
Arousal. Want. Ridiculous, but there it was. Waiting to be confronted, simmering between them as it had for months. He denied it, she denied it, but damn it, she was so tired of pretending.
“I’m not worried.” She sounded breathless, even to her own ears. “I know you’ll take care of me.”
A muscle in Mason’s jaw ticked. His expression remained serious, his gaze so intense she almost wanted to look away. But she couldn’t. Every time he looked at her, it was as if she became his sole focus. Like nothing else in the world existed to him except her.
She liked it. Even though she was just his job, she couldn’t help the thrilling jolt that moved through her when all that intensity zeroed in on her.
“I have to go. Mitchell will escort you back to your apartment.”
Blake rolled her eyes. When they’d first been assigned to covering her, she’d gotten the two of them confused. Russell and Mitchell, Mitchell and Russell, they sounded like some sort of geeky singing duo.
But there was a definite difference between the two men. Jerry Mitchell was middle-aged, with thinning hair, a bit of a paunch and a loving wife with a couple of kids. Russell was one hot piece of man flesh that tripped her trigger every time she so much as looked at him.
Big, huge difference between them.
“Why don’t you take me?” She couldn’t help but flirt with him a little bit, just to see what he would say, how he’d react.
“I can’t. I have the meeting regarding your security. Remember?”
Right, her security and the threats made against her. The idea of some freak wanting to hurt her was hard to comprehend.
Watching him, she noticed his expression was grim though she swore she caught a glimmer of lust in his beautiful eyes as they drifted over her. Arousal kicked her swift and hard.
Did he want her as much as she wanted him? She’d unashamedly teased him for weeks, months, trying to entice him with flirting glances, even flirtier words. Yet he always watched her, reacted to her as if he were made of stone.
It had to be a front. The attraction that grew between them was hard to ignore, though he did a stellar job of it.
“So eager to get rid of me, Russell?” she asked pointedly. Sometimes it felt that way.
“You’ll have me until January.”
Hmm, the words “have me” conjured up all sorts of wicked images.
“Here comes Mitchell.” Mason flicked his chin in his partner’s direction, and Blake turned to find Jerry loping toward them, a goofy grin on his face.
He really was sweet. Though they never spoke much, Jerry was always courteous, always flashed a friendly smile when she looked his way. And he always talked about his wife and kids. He really loved them, the emotion and pride was evident in his voice.
It touched her. It also made her a little envious. Did her father care that much about her or her mother? She doubted it.
“Will you let me know what you find out?” She took a step closer to Mason and breathed deep. His spicy scent was something she would never grow tired of.
“Of course.”
She doubted he’d tell her anything, not wanting to scare the hell out of her. Whatever. She deserved to know what was going on.
She deserved to know if her life was truly in danger.
* * * *
“So you’re telling me it’s easier to push Blake Hewitt out of DC rather than allow her to remain here through the end of the campaign?” Indignation surged through Mason, making his blood boil.
Unbelievable. Did any of them realize she was an actual human being with thoughts and feelings? She wasn’t a rebellious teen set to destroy her father’s image. She’d made a simple mistake.
And her father wanted to banish her rather than deal with it.
“Frankly, yes, it is easier. Her father’s worried. He’d rather not have the distraction.” His superior Byron McLane sat across from him, a determined expression on his face. He was going by his orders, Mason knew this, but it still frustrated him.
Not a one of them seemed to give a shit about Blake, not even her father.
The only exception was him. And he couldn’t begin to explain why he cared.
Oh, you know why you care. You’re hot for her.
He ignored the taunting voice in his brain.
“My daughter doesn’t have any restraint. She believes everyone is her friend when they’re most definitely not. She’s a liability, both to herself and me. I can’t worry about her while focusing on the campaign. I just can’t.” James Hewitt sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled in front of him as he contemplated all of them over the top of his reading glasses. “The election is in three weeks. I want her gone.”
Only a few hours ago, more never-before-seen bikini photos had been splashed across the gossip blogs, reigniting Hewitt’s fury. Mason felt like he’d failed at his job. Even worse? He’d failed Blake in his promise to protect her.
Yet another copy of that damn magazine had found its way to the middle of the table, Blake’s smiling, scantily clad image gazing up at him. His cock gave a tiny twitch of interest and he wanted to growl aloud.
Down boy. It wouldn’t do to sport a boner in the middle of a meeting surrounded by all men, especially Blake’s father.
�
�I’ll keep an even closer watch over Miss Hewitt. We’ll start pulling longer shifts, Mitchell and I. Between the two of us, she’ll never be alone,” Mason suggested.
“That doesn’t seem to matter and you know it. She manages to find trouble regardless. Image is everything, you know this. Considering how well-connected everyone is with social media, one wrong move on Blake’s part and it’s splashed across the Internet in seconds,” Byron explained.
“It’s best if she’s clear across the country, at our home on Whitney Island,” Hewitt added. “It’s a small community and completely isolated. No way could she find any trouble there.”
“I suppose Mitchell and I will be on detail in California then.” Damn it, Mason didn’t want to leave. He was working toward a promotion, aspiring to a coveted White House assignment. How the hell could he impress anyone if he was stuck on a remote island off the coast of Northern California?
“You don’t have a choice, Russell. She’s part of your detail.” Byron sent him a death glare. “And considering Mitchell has some personal matters to attend to, I’m assigning you and only you for the job of keeping tabs on Blake while on Whitney Island. We’ll keep Mitchell here on light campaign duty until it’s over.”
Mason fumed silently. Great. All alone with Blake on a tiny island, that sounded like absolute torture—or pure, out of control pleasure, if he gave into the urges that haunted him constantly.
And that was the major problem. He lusted for her, wanted nothing more than to sink his cock deep inside her sexy little body and lose himself completely. But he couldn’t. It was his job to protect her, not fuck her. No matter how badly he wanted to.
“I want her out of the city by morning. No later.” Hewitt pushed his chair back and stood, everyone else rising with him.
“Yes, sir.” Mason reluctantly stood, kept his gaze downcast. He’d just been curtly dismissed, sent on the most torturous assignment yet.
Under His Protection Page 2