Texas Bodyguard

by Jean Brashear

  It was all about sex, the forbidden undertow of the carnal, the appeal of danger and risk that kept the club bouncing seven nights a week.

  He glanced out the one-way smoked glass of his office, automatically checking to be sure the cleaning was well underway, the liquor deliveries on time. Sage wouldn’t be here yet; though she lived in a sky-high condo only blocks away, Sage never rushed her toilette. All the pots and potions that resulted in her sex-bomb-meets-Amazonian-goddess allure took time to apply.

  Even he, who’d been as close to her once as she ever allowed anyone, had never witnessed the process. Sage let no one in beneath her formidable armor, not even him. She was a black widow spider, deadly and irresistible all at once.

  He’d seen her body naked countless times, but never her face. Her makeup, whatever it consisted of, wasn’t heavy or thick, and he wondered just how much she needed it to be beautiful.

  She didn’t, he suspected.

  But she needed the protection. He’d asked, but she’d never told him why. Threatened to throw him out of her bed if he ever asked again. In thrall to her potent allure at the time, he’d complied. And now they weren’t close enough. If they ever had been.

  He glanced at his watch, but only ten minutes had passed. He cursed and thought about calling Bately himself.

  Just then, he heard footsteps he recognized. He started toward his hallway door to greet her, but she went on past and into her space without pausing. She had to know he was here—his Jag was parked in his usual spot.

  Never mind. He needed her focused. For a second, he glanced at their common door but decided against cracking it. She’d arrived surprisingly quickly; she must be as concerned as he was. Let her keep her attention where they needed it. He’d hear the results soon enough.

  He sat at his desk, the sleek black console in keeping with the décor that carried out the theme of the club below—thick, sensual cushions, subdued mood lighting shimmering off metal and leather and glitter…techno meets power meets sex. He tried to concentrate on the schedule of acts over the next six months, but one ear was always cocked for the sound of the connecting door and the verdict. Alan Bately owned key warehouse properties in Houston and San Antonio—one city a port and one a thruway on Interstate 35 running from Mexico to Canada, and both crucial to a step he wanted to take.

  Why be only a money man for Jorge Lima when he could supplant Lima altogether? He’d already begun the process.

  Sage didn’t know—she thought they’d chosen Bately to ingratiate themselves with Lima for a bigger piece of the money-laundering pie. He’d originally thought that way himself, but then he’d realized he’d set his sights too low.

  The connecting door’s knob clicked as Sage turned it. He spun around in his palatial leather chair. “Well?”

  “He wants out. He’s lost his nerve.”

  “But you discussed with him the reactions of his family and colleagues, should the video of him with a fourteen-year-old girl wind up on the internet.”

  “I did. He says he’s going to confess to his wife.”

  Martin arched an eyebrow. “That ought to go over well. You believe him?”

  “I don’t know. He says he’ll go to the cops after that. He says he’s talked to a lawyer buddy who claims we’ll be in more trouble than he is. Says we have until midnight.”

  “Or what?”

  “He’s bluffing.” Sage seemed unusually shaken. “But we can’t take a chance. We have to stop him. He’s a danger to us now.”

  “No shit. We won’t have to worry about the cops. Lima will kill us first.”

  “I know someone. I’ll make a call.”

  “To do what?” But he knew. Somehow it wasn’t hard to believe that even murder wasn’t beyond Sage. “Not yet. I’ll go down there, talk to him in person.”

  “I don’t think it will help.”

  “I never signed on for murder, Sage.”

  “I’m not going to jail.”

  “Just let me see what I can accomplish. I’ll leave now.” He’d have to cancel with Annabelle, probably tomorrow, too. Damn it.

  But he couldn’t worry about Annabelle right now.

  “Do not do anything until I get back in touch.”

  She waved him off. “I’m calling my guy. I’ll put him on hold, but I want him ready.”

  “Chill, Sage. Do not screw this up.”

  “Bately’s the one endangering us all. I’m giving you until ten, then my guy goes in.”

  Martin clenched his hands into fists and glared at her, but Sage’s chin jutted in defiance.

  She was a problem.

  One that might need solving, too.

  He left without another word.

  Damn. Annabelle was not only beautiful but nice, intelligent, sexy…and surprisingly down to earth for a woman so many put on a pedestal.

  Plus she was fun.

  Sean had been in a lot of difficult situations on the job—in physical danger, beat all to hell, excruciatingly bored on stakeouts, sickened by man’s cruelty to his fellow beings…

  But his current dilemma was misery of a sort he’d never encountered. He was an undercover cop; part of his job was having to deceive people for the greater good. He’d told more lies than he could count, feigned innumerable identities, used his skill with words to portray situations however he needed them to appear—but always in the name of justice. Of course there had been unavoidable collateral damage sometimes. He never welcomed it, but he knew everything he was doing was necessary to take down the bad guys, to keep good people safe.

  But this…

  He almost never had trouble maintaining a cover while still keeping sight of who he was at his core and why he was there.

  Today, however…for long moments he’d skated dangerously close to forgetting his case, his goals, the fact that she was—had to be—a means to an end. A very important, very crucial end.

  Close, hell—when they’d been in the water, he’d forgotten everything but her and how very, very much he wanted her. Worse, how easily he could fall for her.

  And wouldn’t that just be a kick in the ass? He could picture Doc now: So let me get this straight. You learned absolutely nothing about Martin Lowe, who likely is laundering millions for a cartel that has enslaved countless women and children, has murdered more than a few of them…because you couldn’t keep it in your pants?

  It’s not like that, Doc. Is that how he’d explain? She’s…much more than that. I like her. I could even fall—

  Oh, no. No, no, no. Do not even think the L word. Because that is so not going to happen. He had a job to do, and that was all that could matter.

  “Sean?” she said as she used a towel to squeeze the water from her hair while he drove.

  He didn’t even know where he was going.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Me?” He forced himself to look at her, to dredge up a smile. “Hell, yeah.” Gotta do better than that, dummy. Get a grip. He tried to unscramble his brains, back up from that cliff. “I mean, for a guy with clammy, wet shorts, that is.”

  “I hear you. So where are we off to now?”

  To hell in a handbasket, his grandpa would say. “I’m thinking about that. You want to go back to Vanessa’s and change?” Get me out of here, he pleaded to unnamed forces, his mind stuck back in that pool, still craving her. Think.

  “The way things were going back there, I thought maybe…”

  Her cell phone rang. Her glance darted at him, then away. She opened the glove compartment and removed it. “Hello?”

  Her face brightened. “Oh, hi, Martin. What’s up? Did you get free, after all?”

  Sean could only hear the man’s tone faintly.

  “Oh.”

  But he could hear her disappointment. Vividly.

  “That’s all right. Don’t worry, really. Things come up. When will you be back?”

  Where could Lowe be going? Shit. He had to let Doc know. What if he was taking a powder? Could he be feeling t
he heat already? Had something happened that Sean wasn’t aware of?

  “One night. Big deal. I’ll be fine, really.”

  Sean wondered if Lowe could hear her lack of conviction.

  “Of course. Makes sense that you’d be coming in late. Two days without your smiling face won’t kill me. It’s not like we don’t go months without a visit. And I can always call you if I—oh.” Her voice fell. “Sure, that’s fine. Cell coverage isn’t good everywhere. No one knows that better than me. Location shooting is always dicey, so I understand. Just call me when you get back and have time. I can take a cab to your place, you know.” She listened again.

  “My bodyguard?” She cast Sean a sideways glance he couldn’t decipher. “Well, I can see if he’s available to bring me to you so you don’t have to…oh. Okay, sure. I understand. Vanessa’s isn’t that far from your club.”

  Even a blind man could see her disappointment that Lowe wasn’t welcoming her to his place. What the hell was he hiding there? If only Sean could learn enough to justify a warrant…

  “We’ll work it out, Martin. You don’t have to take care of me. I’m a big girl.” Then she chuckled. “Okay, so you’ve been taking care of me for years, but what’s your point?” This smile was more genuine. Fond. “You have a safe trip, hear?” She disconnected the call and held the phone close to her chest, staring out the windshield.

  “Problem?”

  “What? Oh. No. Just my friend Martin, the one who invited me to Austin to visit. He’s designated himself my one-person entertainment committee, and he’s been religious about coming by every day to cheer me up. Now he has to make a quick business trip to look at a possible second location, and he just wanted me to know why he wouldn’t be coming by tomorrow. Not that I asked him to come every day, but…it has been nice.”

  “Second location? Must be doing well. What kind of business?”

  “He owns two, actually, Scarlett’s, the restaurant, and a club called Danger Zone. I haven’t been there yet. Do you know it?”

  “Sure do. It’s a hot spot. No wonder he’s looking to expand.” If that’s what he was really doing. “He say where?”

  “Houston, he said.”

  Ah. Houston. A port city. Where he could meet a shipment? Maybe this guy was more involved than they thought.

  He really did need to get in touch with Doc. Had to find a reason to get away long enough to do that.

  Meanwhile, Annabelle was watching him. He scrambled to fill the gap. “Well, hey, that sounds like a good thing for him. You’ve known him a long time?”

  “Nearly half my life. He was my Sir Galahad when I moved to L.A., fresh off the turnip truck.” Her smile was both sad and fond.

  “Sounds like a story.”

  “He’s the best friend I ever had. He showed me the ropes and kept me from starving. When neither of us had two pennies to rub together, we shared what we had. He had faith in me when no one else did.”

  Oh, man. So Lowe was truly important to her. How far would she go to exorcise her sense of indebtedness?

  “So I guess he’s proud of you for all you’ve accomplished.”

  A line formed between her brows. “Mostly. It’s been hard for him, though. He was an actor, too, but…he never got the breaks I did.”

  “Maybe he didn’t have your talent.”

  He could practically see her back arch. “Martin was talented—is, I mean. And I tried to return the favor. Once I had the leverage, I made sure he got a part in every production.”

  “Ouch.”

  Her head whipped around. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. Sorry. None of my business.”

  She sighed and slouched against the seat. “No…I know what you’re saying. He’s a proud man, and it didn’t take him long to realize I was behind the offers.” A faint smile. “We had quite a shouting match over that.” She was silent for a minute. “I meant well, but I think I broke his heart. Working on my films and getting no other offers was a nasty wake-up call. He left to come to Austin not long after. I try to tell myself he’s better off.”

  “Isn’t he? I mean, it sounds like he’s a success.”

  “He is, no question. It’s just…” She shook her head. “Everything’s different now. He’s so stressed out, and even though he’s the one who invited me here to visit, he didn’t offer for me to stay with him. I shouldn’t be hurt—his hours are hideous—but…” She blew out a breath. “And this can’t possibly be interesting, even if my reactions weren’t so…girly.”

  “But you are a girl,” he pointed out. Then, to cheer her up, he waggled his eyebrows. “As I can readily attest.” It was his turn for a gusty sigh. “At least, sort of, I can. Damn tourists.”

  That elicited a faint grin. “I’m a tourist, if you’ll recall.”

  “Naw. You’re an international star. That means you waltz right in anywhere and fit in.” He glanced over. “Don’t be bustin’ my bubble now. You won’t, will you?”

  His foolishness seemed to lift her spirits—at least, enough for her to roll her eyes. “Right. I just show up and—poof! Everybody loves me.”

  “Exactly my thoughts. Sort of like a superpower.” When she giggled like a girl, something new inside him unfurled.

  No. He could not get his heart involved. Period.

  And he still needed to call Doc. Pronto. “Okay, let’s test your mettle.”

  She lifted one eyebrow.

  “I’m going to run you back to Vanessa’s, so you can get out of those wet clothes. After you’ve changed, we can go to my place so I can do the same—but you have to wait on the porch long enough for me to shove laundry under the bed, throw out pizza boxes, get the place presentable. Shouldn’t take more than, oh, an hour or two.”

  “That bad, huh? Bachelor pad?”

  “Worse. See, I got this idea—okay, my mom kept hammering on me, and Saint was just as bad, but then Jilly started in on me, and—hell, I still don’t know how it happened, but I bought a house. Do you know how much money you’re throwing away on rent, sweetheart?” he said in a falsetto. “My mom is ruthless.”

  “So now you have more room to mess up?”

  “Well, not exactly. I got a great deal because Saint found this fixer-upper. No surprise—the whole clan is completely unbalanced over the do-it-yourself deal. Saint was remodeling his house when he met Clarice, who had done much of the work on hers. Alex and Rafe have a sick level of talent at anything creative, and Jilly heads this non-profit that helps the disadvantaged become homeowners, sort of like Habitat for Humanity. So everyone’s all Sean, there’s nothing to it. Here’s a hammer and some nails and a paint brush, now get to it. And yeah, I was raised on a farm, and we learned to do just about everything for ourselves, but—”

  She was outright laughing now. “So how bad is it?”

  “One room is almost finished.”

  “I’m afraid I have to see it.”

  “Oh, you should be afraid, all right. Be very afraid.”

  They exchanged grins.

  “Sounds perfect. I’m in,” she said.

  “In over your head, Hollywood, I’m warning you.”

  But not any more over her head than he was.

  He turned into the drive at Vanessa’s and punched in the combination for the gate. “Oh—I just remembered that I need coffee. And, okay, toilet paper. I’ll go grab some and be right back here before you finish changing.”

  She was shaking her head and grinning as she emerged from his truck. She waved goodbye, and he waved back.

  But he noticed as he left that she was still standing there, watching.

  And when she finally turned, she seemed so fragile and small.

  Sean rubbed one hand over his heart. What in the hell have you done, dumbass?

  He couldn’t begin to formulate an answer.

  Instead, he pulled out his cell and called Doc.

  Annabelle was doubly glad right now that her quarters were separate, so she didn’t have to drag through any
public areas, looking like a drowned rat.

  Though at the moment, she wasn’t sure how much she cared. Her body was still buzzing from that interlude in the water, and she wasn’t at all sorry they’d have a chance to be alone later. Yes, she was a paying guest here and shouldn’t be concerned over what anyone thought of her choice of guests or whether anyone slept over, but this place was so much more than a hotel to her already—and she did care what Vanessa thought.

  The Sullivan clan was a close-knit bunch, and they included friends in their definition of family. She was the interloper, and Sean was well-loved. She couldn’t imagine Vanessa and Dane wouldn’t feel protective of him. Sean had been asked to provide security for her, and they might see her as preying upon a relationship that should have been only business.

  But there was absolutely nothing businesslike about the way Sean made her feel. That man could kiss…oh, lordy, he could kiss. Then there was that strong, gorgeous body, those changeable, magnetic gray eyes, the sharp intellect, the humor that sent all her defensive walls tumbling…

  This trip to recuperate had suddenly taken on a whole new shine, and that was pretty amazing, considering she’d sworn off men after Barry’s betrayal. She’d come to Austin wanting only to feel safe, to find time to heal out of the public eye. Never once had she even considered meeting a man, much less getting involved with one.

  But this one…Sean might be called a ladykiller, but there was much more to him. He felt like someone from home, someone whose background and values resembled her own. He could be much more than a fling.

  Hold on now. Half a country separated them, and they had incompatible careers, she reminded herself. And she was still raw.

  Annabelle unlocked the door to her suite and entered, then leaned back against the door. Sean had made her forget all about her real life as they spent time together. Taking her to his special spot, creating a bubble around her, a lovely little time out of mind…it was easy to spin out fantasies of what could be.

  And L.A. did have a police academy, plus Annabelle knew the mayor personally, so she could—