Bodyguards In Bed

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  She just leaned up and kissed him softly. “I’ll get dressed.”

  CHAPTER 7

  They made the six-hour drive in five and still managed to talk nearly nonstop the whole time. Danusia told Max about what it was like to grow up out of sync with her peers and in a family of such loving, overprotective and yet distant siblings.

  Max told her about growing up on the fringe of his middle-class schoolmates with a long-haul trucker for a father. His mother hadn’t handled the separations well. When Max told her he’d never heard the woman laugh until several months after his father’s death, when she’d started seeing a widowed schoolteacher, Danusia had felt tears burn her eyes.

  “You think no woman could handle a relationship filled with absences.”

  “No woman should have to.”

  “Military wives do it all the time. Other long-haul truckers have happy marriages.”

  “The divorce rate in the military, especially any special forces branch, is significantly higher than national averages. Same for long-haul trucking.”

  “It’s still possible.”

  He’d changed the subject, but she was beginning to see how a man who based most of his excuses for not getting involved on stuff that would only matter in a relationship could say he was only interested in casual sex.

  Max looked for anyone or anything out of the ordinary as he walked slightly to the side and behind Danusia into her apartment building. There were security cameras in the parking lot and the entrance.

  If the perps hadn’t been caught on them, that meant one of two things: lucky or professional. He knew which one he was leaning toward.

  Danusia lived on the third floor and her apartment was at the end of the hall. Again, the fact she was the farthest from the elevator and stairwell increased the perps’ chances of being seen.

  “No news on who broke in?” he asked, pretty sure he knew the answer already.

  “None. Two men wearing dark hoodies were seen on the security cameras, but their faces were never visible.”

  “And no one noticed suspicious persons loitering outside your apartment?”

  “The police said they don’t have any leads.”

  He didn’t say anything else as they met up with the manager outside Danusia’s door.

  The woman, wearing a red power suit, let them in. “I don’t know what’s going on. This is highly irregular,” she said, giving Danusia an accusing glare.

  “What is irregular was your superintendent’s careless attitude about putting a new door in. This second break-in could well have been prevented.” Which he actually doubted, but hell if he was going to stand by while the snooty bitch tried to make Danusia feel responsible.

  His little professor didn’t seem to be paying attention to either of them. Her focus was on the chaos on the other side of the now open door.

  Danusia walked slowly inside, her head swiveling to take in what was clearly a very thorough job of turning her apartment upside down. Shit.

  This was no robbery. Someone had been looking for something. And they hadn’t found it, or the entire place wouldn’t be so methodically trashed.

  Which was what he said to the detective when he and Danusia stopped by the police station later.

  “That was our take as well, Mr. Baker.”

  Max frowned. “And you didn’t warn Danusia? Why the hell not? She could have walked right into something.”

  The detective gave Danusia what was no doubt supposed to be an intimidating frown. “In our experience, when someone is looking for something with that much determination, the person in possession of that something is already aware of the fact.”

  “We as in who, detective?” Danusia asked. “Your police department? How many cases of this sort have you investigated ? Enough to make an acceptable statistical average?”

  “I’ll ask the questions here, Miss Chenko.”

  “It’s Chernichenko and you may call me Danusia if that’s easier.”

  “What were the perps looking for?” the detective asked.

  “I don’t know for sure.”

  “Look, Danusia, we can’t help you if you won’t be frank with us. If you’re in something over your head, we’ll do what we can to help, but you need to tell us what it is.”

  “Local police are allowed to lie.” She turned to Max.

  “Only federal investigators are required to tell the truth, though that doesn’t extend to the CIA, apparently.”

  Max almost laughed, but he held it in. “Do you think Rebekah is involved in something dangerous?” he forced himself to ask.

  “No, but I think I may be.”

  The detective looked triumphant.

  Max should have been surprised, but he wasn’t. “The pharmaceutical research?”

  “Yes. I realized in the car on the way here what those results could indicate. I mean if you weren’t looking for people getting better?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Nanotechnology as a weapon rather than medical treatment.”

  He cursed. The detective looked confused and he didn’t look as if he understood a whole lot better after Danusia’s explanation. To give the guy credit—which Max wasn’t overly inclined to do considering his negligent attitude toward Danusia’s safety—parts of her explanation went right over Max’s head as well.

  But he had no trouble figuring out that his little professor was in a world of trouble. Or would be if he weren’t around to keep her safe. He didn’t just know how to kill people, he knew how to stop others from doing it.

  He planned to put his knowledge and experience to full use in protecting the sweet and too damn sexy scientist-in-the-making.

  And it was a damn good thing, because once the detective did get the gist of what Danusia was trying to tell him, he immediately dismissed her theories as far-fetched and fanciful. “This isn’t an episode of Law & Order, Miss Chernko.”

  Max couldn’t decide if the man was getting her name wrong on purpose, or really was that dense.

  “I’m fully aware that this is real life. It’s my apartment that’s been ransacked, detective.”

  “And you want me to believe someone did it trying to get back a bunch of computer data you got for researching your paper?” The man couldn’t have come off as more dismissive if he’d called her little lady and rolled his eyes.

  “Do you have a better theory?” Danusia asked.

  But Max didn’t need to. The detective had nothing.

  “Well, now. It’s a lot more likely that you’ve been turning your knowledge of chemistry to more lucrative endeavors.” The police detective’s words were annoying as hell, but expected.

  Danusia,ugh, looked shocked and horrified by the implications. “You think I’ve been making drugs?” she demanded, proving her brains worked outside the classroom too. “Are you aware that one of my brothers is a former DEA agent?”

  “Former?”

  “Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe what you are implying.” She turned to Max. “Is he really saying what I think he’s saying?”

  “Looks that way to me.”

  “Now, listen here, Miss Chenkiro.”

  The detective’s misuse of her name yet again was the last straw because she gave him a contemptuous look and got to her feet, marching away from his desk toward the exit without another word.

  The detective wasn’t so quiet. “Wait a minute, there. You can’t go storming off. I’ll have you arrested on obstruction of justice.”

  Danusia ignored the petty threat for the empty hot air it was.

  The man jumped up to follow her, but Max got between them. “If you’d found drugs in her apartment, she’d already be under arrest. You’ve fucked up this investigation and any chance of a promotion you might have gotten out of it.”

  With that, he left, catching up with Danusia before she was out of the building.

  “That man is an idiot,” she said.

  “He lacks imagination.”

  “Oh, I’d say he’s
got plenty of that.”

  “No, for him, it’s same old, same old. He can’t wrap his mind around a crime that isn’t centered on drugs or domestic violence.”

  “He thought I was making drugs.” She sounded so furious and so hurt.

  Max put his arm around her shoulder, even as he maintained easy access to his concealed weapon. “It wasn’t personal, sweetheart.”

  “It felt personal.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  “Sure. I’ve been pulled over for nothing more than DWB.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Driving while black.”

  She didn’t laugh like he expected. “That’s terrible.”

  “Hey, it happens to teenagers too. No matter how much they deny it, law enforcement profiles.”

  She stopped three cars down from where they’d parked and looked up at him, eyes swimming with hurt. “Do I look like a drug dealer? Maker? Whatever?”

  “Now, you’re profiling.”

  “Yeah, I guess. I don’t like it and I don’t know what to do.” Her lower lip jutted out and he felt like a heel because all he wanted to do was nibble on it. “I’ll have to call my family,” she said in the next breath, her tone about as happy as new recruits’ when told they had an extra hour of PT before mealtime.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I don’t?”

  “I’ll call in some friends.”

  “Like Roman did for Elle’s wedding?”

  “Something like that.” But this situation was going to take official government involvement.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “You’re too smart for stupid questions, sweetheart.”

  “I was right.”

  “A what?”

  “Professor does sound just like sweetheart the way you say it.”

  Danusia lay on the bed and flipped through the complimentary newspaper in their hotel suite an hour later while Max made phone calls in the other room. He’d insisted it wasn’t safe to stay in her apartment and she hadn’t argued. She’d left their accommodations up to him and wasn’t surprised to find herself in a suite at the end of the hall on the seventh floor of a hotel with both a doorman and twenty-four-hour reception desk.

  She expected other men like Roman and Max to show up any minute and set up some kind of security plan for her. If it were her family doing this, she knew she’d feel stifled and like somehow she was inconveniencing them. Even if they would deny it. But with Max? She felt protected. Almost cherished.

  It was crazy, considering how he insisted they didn’t have a future, but the man was way too worried about her feelings and safety for a casual lay.

  She idly flipped to the Metro section to see what was going on around the city when a small article in the lower left corner caught her eye. The picture was one of those awful ones used for drivers’ licenses and employee identifications. It was of the woman who had given Danusia the data for her thesis at Luminescent Pharmaceuticals.

  And she was dead.

  She’d been involved in a single-car accident at freeway speeds late at night. No witnesses. The article said the roads had been slick with an unexpected summer rain and it was unclear whether she’d fallen asleep at the wheel or simply lost control of her vehicle.

  What were the chances?

  Danusia grabbed the Metro section and rushed into the sitting room. “Max.”

  “Hold on,” he said into the phone and looked at her. “What’s up, Professor?”

  She handed him the paper. “That woman, down at the bottom of the page? She’s the one who gave me the data at Luminescent.”

  Max’s eyes narrowed and he read the brief article lead before swearing. “Our timeline just amped up,” he barked into the phone. “They’re not just trying to get the data back. They’re eliminating loose ends.”

  Danusia couldn’t hear what the person on the other end of the call said, and wouldn’t have understood if she had. Her brain was going into meltdown. She was definitely not superspy material like her sister.

  The thought of someone wanting her dead scared the pee out of her. Well, not literally. But it was close.

  Oh, man. She was babbling, even in her head.

  Strong arms wrapped around her and Max’s body heat broke the chill of terror trying to take hold. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  She clutched at him. “I’m scared. I shouldn’t be scared.” “Who says? This is scary shit.”

  She almost laughed. “You’re not scared.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  She reared back so she could see the truth in his face and sure enough there was a shadow of worry in his eyes, which was probably as close to really frightened as this man got. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m damn good at my job. Both of them. Killing and protecting.”

  “So?”

  “So,r trying t never been personally invested in keeping my client alive.”

  “I’m not your client. I’m your lover.” He’d said it first. He could deal with it.

  His head dropped to rest against hers. “I know.”

  “I think that scares you more than the thought of the bad guys getting past you.” She’d meant it as a tease.

  But his fierce frown said he didn’t get the joke. “Not even close.”

  “Okay.”

  “But I’ve never had one,” he said.

  “A lover?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re no virgin.”

  “Neither are you.”

  But she’d never had a lover before either. She got it. Sex partners yes, lover no. The difference between them? She wanted a relationship. She didn’t want to be alone, though she’d proven to herself and anyone else who cared to take note that she did just fine that way.

  She’d been raised in a close-knit family with parents who loved each other deeply. She wanted that for herself. She wanted someone to call her own. Not someone. She wanted this man. He wasn’t ready to hear that though. She wasn’t sure he ever would be.

  “It’s going to be okay.” It was her turn to comfort.

  This time he did laugh, though the sound wasn’t his usual sexy joy. “A couple of friends are coming in by helicopter. They should be here in an hour.”

  “I guessed. Should I pretend I don’t realize they’re some kind of black-ops group?”

  “Paramilitary black-ops is the correct term.”

  Something inside her cracked at this little tidbit of honesty. “Is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “They won’t tell you their real names. You don’t have to pretend you don’t realize what they are or why they’re here. Our nicknames are used for a reason other than to piss some of us off.” He sighed. “Though you’ll probably learn who some of them are eventually if you hang around me long enough.”

  “Am I going to be hanging around?” she asked.

  “Long-distance relationships have a pretty bad success rate.”

  “Is this a relationship?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked so pained, so frustrated, she didn’t push.

  “We’ll focus on the problem at hand right now,” she offered.

  His game face came over his features like a robot mask. “Right. That’s exactly what we should be doing.”

  She went to step out of his arms, but he didn’t let her go, tugging her over to the couch instead. He sat down and pulled her right into his lap.

  “This is focusing on our problem?”

  “Part of my job is making you feel safe right now.”

  “I do feel safe.”

  “You’re saying sitting in my lap doesn’t make you feel safer?”

  “No, I’m not saying that.” It didn’t make sense, because really it shouldn’t make any difference, but she didn’t want to move.

  “Good.”

  “What now?”

  “The big boss is maki
ng some phone calls. They’ll need the data and youinterpretation of it, but then the spooks will move in on Luminescent Pharmaceuticals.”

  She snuggled more firmly into his lap. “What’s your role in all this?”

  “Keeping you safe.”

  “Don’t you want to be in on the takedown?” she asked, as she rubbed her head against his shoulder.

  “I want to be your hands-on bodyguard.” It sounded like a promise of something else entirely.

  She decided to go for the joke, rather than press for him to acknowledge what he was really saying . . . if he was saying what it felt like. “Sounds dirty.”

  “Sexy maybe.”

  “Sexy definitely.”

  “Good.”

  “Speaking of sex.”

  “We’ve got forty-three minutes until the others arrive.”

  “Let’s not waste it.”

  And they didn’t. Though he did insist on taking a few minutes to set up some complicated contraptions on the windows and door before carrying her off to bed and once again blowing her mind with pleasure.

  CHAPTER 8

  His friends turned out to be a lot like she’d expected. Which meant they reminded her of Roman and Max. Though one of them was a woman. They set up a rotation of guards, but Max stayed with her all the time.

  Someone else might have gotten sick of spending so much time in a hotel suite, but she was used to working on her thesis for days at a time. Besides, she had the distraction of Max.

  Totally delicious and wonderful, he used sex to help her work off the tension of being cooped up in the same two rooms. She didn’t need to go running when he loved her into a puddle of exhausted pleasure. Sex, the perfect cardio.

  They kept talking too, about their more recent pasts and their hopes for the future.

  “So, you want to be doing this when you’re ninety?” she asked him at one point.

  He shook his head. “Nah. Can’t do what I do when you lose your game.”

  “So, what does your future look like?”

  “There’s a pretty high mortality rate in my profession.”

  “You plan to be dead?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Then?”

  Well, that answered the question of whether a black man could blush. He could. And it was adorable.

 

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