THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle
Page 63
And that face. Think Paul Walker with a twist of Efron. Hot darn it.
I keep staring at him, not quite tracking what’s happening around me as I let my eyes journey south and get the full effect. Muscles. Muscles. Tan skin revealed by the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down black shirt and a pair of legs that makes my tongue ache to hang out in a pant.
I’m so engrossed in just looking that I don’t hear a word that’s being said or track anything really till he’s on me, kissing me so thoroughly that I taste maple syrup on his breath.
“Well, I’ll leave you two love birds alone,” Frankie mutters, just as the hottie lets me go.
God, I hope this guy is my stalker, I think, catching my breath with difficulty when he turns to Frankie.
“You know how it is, Frankie. I can call you Frankie, right? Our relationship is new, and this nut doesn’t want to jinx it,” he drawls, making my brain start firing when I realize what he’s saying.
“Wha—?”
“I get it,” Frankie snarls, casting me a glare. “She didn’t want to share her new man before she had you locked down.”
What?
“Er—”
“Exactly. Nice meeting you.”
I’m inside and glaring at him before I can say another word, my fists clenched in anger when he just looks me up and down, inspecting me minutely before nodding once and sighing.
“First off, never just open your door before checking the peep hole, or at least letting me take a look outside. You’re in danger, lady. Danger, do you get that?”
“What? Who are you?” I ask dazedly, my mind finally operating enough to start blaring warning signals at me.
This guy may be hot and totally ridable. As in I’d risk chafe if it meant having all that man delight all over my body. But I don’t know him, don’t have a hope in hell of getting one over on him, and contrary to my initial brain fart, no amount of sexiness will make up for my being gutted while I’m still breathing.
That gets my blood pumping, and I’m in a fighting stance before I know it, my fists clenching with the need to strike out and run. As punches go, the one I land to his jaw probably hurt me more than it hurt him, and I’m running for my bedroom in seconds, my mind racing.
I’m just clearing the doorframe when a weight hits me from behind, my breath completely knocked out of me when he twists and takes the brunt of my weight, both of us falling to the mattress.
“Oh, calm down, I’m not here to hurt you. Though God knows you need a scare to make you think, if you’re even capable of it,” he snorts, giving me yet another once over. “Gino sent me. I’m Lex Jacobs, your new shadow.”
“Dammit!” I growl, just barely stopping my elbow from hitting his ribs. “I told him no.”
Lex just grunts something beneath his breath and shakes his head, twisting us both so that I end up on the bed beneath him, my arms pinned beside my head.
“And look just where that got you. You know, I walked right up to your security guy’s car and saw him sleeping on the job? Oh, and thanks for just inviting me into your home to disembowel and dismember you. The kiss was good, too,” he snorts, making me blush.
“Look—”
“No, you look. I went through everything Gino sent me this morning. I got that police report, as well. Face it, lady, you’re in trouble, incapable of helping yourself, and completely at the mercy of whoever is planning to hurt you. Shit, you spent a good minute checking me out before I kissed you. You could be dead right now, or tied to this bed and at my mercy. You had no idea who I was, what I intended, or what I could do to you. You just let me into your house without making a peep in front of your friend.”
Because you’re gorgeous, I yell inside, my body melting beneath his even when I yell at myself to do something to prove him wrong. I’m hot all over and fighting not to squirm beneath his weight, while he just keeps me pinned and looks down at me, his face a mask of displeasure.
“I was surprised, okay? Not many cute guys just show up on my doorstep! Give me a break. And I was talking to Frankie when I opened the door. By the way, what is up with you kissing me?” I hiss, twisting my wrists a little to get free of the hold.
“The more people who know about me, the harder my job will be. You can tell her who I am as long as she doesn’t go blabbing to her friends about it where anyone can hear. A friend of mine was in this situation not too long ago, and it turned out his girl’s best friend and business partner was the one trying to off her.”
That stills me before I start laughing so hard I snort like a pig and choke on my own spit. Frankie? Little Frankie, the blonde bombshell, whose only gripe with life is dating men who aren’t sexually adventurous—coming after me?
That thought is so hilarious I can’t help cackling as he glares down at me.
“Sorry. Wow! That was amusing. You saw her, right? She’s tiny. And her nails are her life,” I muse, thinking about those Caputo talons with fondness. “She’d rather lose a limb than break a nail, and her idea of violence is shoving foreign objects into her dates. Don’t ask.”
Lex just frowns and lifts off me, his mouth twisting when he seems to get my drift.
“Nasty.”
“Undoubtedly, but different strokes for people with needs, right?”
“Uh, you mean different strokes for different folks?”
“Nope. Whatever, anyway, as I said, Mr. Jacobs, I told Gino I won’t have security dogging my every step. That’s not me, and quite frankly, I won’t have you on my ass all day just to prove to my boss that he’s wrong,” I huff, rolling to my feet with effort since he’s no help at all.
“Too bad. This horse has left—”
“The corral, yes, I know. I’d just like for him to turn around and go right on back into the stall though, if you will. I have classes, friends, and a job. I don’t have time to be schlepping you around while you scowl and growl at humanity at large.”
The man just stares at me so intently that I start squirming and finally retreat to the living room, not at all comfortable with his assessment of me, whatever that may be.
“No schlepping, so chill out. I’ll be living with you until we catch the one responsible for this.”
“What! Oh no, no, no. My house. You can go to Gino’s casino and grab a room there if you’re feeling the need to stay and soak up the rays, Jacobs. You’re not staying here.”
“Eh, you say tomato—”
“You say gelato, I get it. Still, the answer is unequivocally no. Not. Happening. I’m not anyone’s roomie, and I don’t want to be.”
He just shrugs, as if not one word can penetrate his thick hide and smiles as he falls into the sofa cushions and leans back with a sigh.
“Water would be great.”
“Really? You’re thirsty? Great, there are fully stocked mini fridges in the Graceland hotel rooms. Peanuts, booze, cola…” I muse, rolling my eyes when he just shrugs again and lifts off the sofa, going for my kitchen.
I want to scream when he comes back with water, cream cheese, crackers and shit, and peanuts, too, and just grins at me gleefully.
“Nice digs. You need to restock the olives though. I love olives.”
Chapter Four
Rosetta
“I love privacy. And freedom of choice! And the right to say no,” I hiss, bypassing Nana’s chair to sit in the lumpy seat to his right.
“You know what’s overrated? Talking. I find it so damn useless—especially when your points aren’t even slightly valid,” he mumbles around a spoonful of cheese.
Okay. Did I at any point think the guy was cute? I wonder, watching him spoon cream cheese into his mouth exactly the way I do before shoving two crackers in and chewing with relish.
“Stop that!”
“Eating?” he asks around a mouthful, giving me a visual of his food with a grin. “Plane didn’t serve food since my flight was so unplanned.”
“No. Yes. Dammit, come into the kitchen and I’ll make you something.”
I just love people, man. It’s the way I roll around that mulberry bush. Sue me.
Plus, I like this guy. Good looks aside, his aura is good. Not light, but definitely not dark and disturbed either, more a fuzzy blend between good and wicked.
I see that wickedness now when he smiles at me and inclines his head, letting me know he accepts the shaky truce I’m throwing out.
“So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Jacobs,” I say, grabbing the fixings for a French toast bacon and cheese sandwich like Nana made for me and my friends when I was young.
“First off, my name is Lexington—Lex to everyone I don’t want to kill.” He laughs, winking at me. “Use it. Hmm, well, I’m a personal protection officer, as my friend Storm likes to joke. I work for one of my old Army buddies, with other Army buddies. My job basically entails going into some really hairy places and helping people get unstuck from that situation. Sometimes I even get to shoot someone. Big plus in my book.”
I laugh at that, shaking my head as I start frying the bread and bacon.
“I’ll bet. Nana used to say she thanked God I couldn’t own a gun because I have a hair-trigger temper when my feelings get hurt. Must be nice to have that much power.”
“Not really. Most of the time my job involves protecting rich brats or their moms who, by the way, do not take marriage vows seriously. Having a gun when some old chick tries to grab my dick isn’t always a good thing.”
I laugh outright at that and grab at my side when it starts stitching, watching him grin at my amusement. Lex Jacobs really is too darn good looking for my good state of mind. Unfortunately for me, I seem to have lost that state of sanity somewhere between having his tongue shoved down my throat and feeling his sex pressed to my belly on my bed.
“Sounds rough. It must be absolute torture having women throw themselves at you.”
His face goes blank, and I get the feeling I’ve overstepped in some way. Lord knows how, since it’s obvious the man is not at all short of bed partners.
“My friends laugh about it, too. They think because I’m sexually adventurous that I enjoy having snatch shoved in my face at all times. I like the chase, and yeah, sex is a big yes for me too, but honestly? I do not enjoy having a forty-year-old mother of three, who happens to be married, shoving her tits in my face.”
“Ahh, I like that. You have principles.”
That surprises me. Dammit, I’m a freaking biased asshole if I just assumed that all men, especially obvious playboys like Lex, are immoral and easy. Bad Rosie. Take Frankie for example, most guys look at her beach babe exterior and her innocent blue eyes and think they’re scoring a catch. Little do they know that they’ll get as much pain as pleasure in her bed.
“Principles? More like I understand what I will and will not tolerate. How can I do some soccer-mom senator’s wife when I know that I would shit a brick if someone slept with my wife?” he asks softly.
My heart drops immediately until I realize who this man really is, at least from what little I know so far. He would never have kissed me if he was married, though God alone understands why the thought of him being married—
Stop lying to yourself, Ro. It would really suck if you couldn’t at least fantasize about doing a man like him.
And that is probably all I’ll get to do. No insults to the royal we, but I’m not exactly supermodel material—what with my hair being a beacon for space aliens or anything that flies near the planet.
Plus, I have about…a few pounds worth of excess that I just can never see a guy like Lex appreciating on his women. Not that I think he’s shallow, but men have types. He’d probably do Frankie in a heartbeat.
Damn my mother and her love of gingers!
“Uh, so…you enjoy your job?”
I avoid direct eye contact, as I put the sandwiches together and grab two waters, sinking into a chair across from him with less comfort than I’m used to.
Because yes, I may not have punched him all that hard, but I got his eye and the darn thing is starting to discolor before my eyes. Shoot. The guilt will kill me.
“Yes. Now, on to you. Tell me about these notes and anything else you can think of to help us catch this guy.”
“You read the notes,” I aver, taking a big bite to stall talking about them just yet.
Not that I’m avoiding things exactly, just, you know, I’m still trying to pull a Trump and deny, deny, deny. At least I can come out swinging with a half plausible excuse if things get dicey. Talking it to death though won’t afford me any protection, and right now that’s what I need.
I’m a performer after all. We tend to be iffy emotionally, and as it stands, if I have to admit to burying my head in the sand and really face that I could be in danger, I may just start blubbering, and trust me, I snot cry. It’s not pretty.
Lex’s mouth thins after taking a bite of his sandwich, and I see him savor the taste before shaking his head at me.
“Trying to ignore the situation won’t make it disappear, lady. It’s up to you to help me keep you alive. As it stands, your refusal to admit that this could be a bad situation all around could have gotten you killed today when you ignored Gino’s warnings and just opened the door.”
I feel chastised, and rightfully so, but come on, I’m not just going to accede the point, am I?
“I don’t think it’s as big of a deal as you guys are making it. My pal Amy had a douche who wouldn’t quit bugging her. She ignored it all, and he finally just went away.”
“She was lucky, lady, very lucky that the person who fixated on her moved on to someone else, which is what guys like that do. Don’t go thinking she did the next woman, or the one after that any favors. Now talk, and stop scowling, it makes you look like one of those puppy dogs everyone pretends to adore. It’s not cute.”
Not nice.
I breathe deeply after finishing half of my lunch and grab my water bottle, fiddling with the top as I think back to those notes that I read and reread most of last night.
“The first one wasn’t all that threatening or anything. It just let me know that someone was watching. I thought it was like a secret admirer, ya know? Or maybe a prank that one of the Elvises was playing on me. Then the second, third, fourth, and fifth came thick and quick.”
“Fast. Thick and fast,” he mutters, his lips twitching.
“Right. Well, I just shrugged it off, you know? I mean, I was with Amy when she went to the cops about her own nut job, and that did absolutely nothing, so I just figured I wouldn’t waste my time with it.”
“Lady, you have over thirty notes here, all starting sometime in the last two months up to this last one, which by the way, may not sound all that threatening to you, but trust me, it is. I know my stalker language after one of my sparrows started getting threats.”
“Sparrows?”
“Ladies I protect. It’s a code name.”
Huh. Well, I mean, that doesn’t make me feel jealous at all.
“Er, ‘kay. What do you want me to say, Mr.…Lex? I just don’t care if some idiot is trying to scare me. I refuse to just cower in my house while they roam around out there free as peacocks.”
“Birds! Free as birds. Do you always do that?”
“Do what?” I ask innocently, blinking back at him slowly.
“Mix…never mind.” He sighs, his tone aggrieved. “The point is not about cowering, trust me. It’s about taking precautions so that when he makes a move, which he will, we’re ready to strike without your getting hurt in the process. Let’s talk about anything that was weird that you’ve noticed.”
“Er, are we talking peanut butter in my boots? Because that was Marv, and I already purple nurpled him in the locker room and slapped his worm. He’s learned his lesson,” I
assure, my mouth twisting when his brow quirks.
“No. Strange occurrences. Maybe your window being open when you closed it. Your things going missing…”
“Like he was maybe in my house!” I yell, my chest stalling as the air rushes out and my lungs refuse to work.
That is not creepy, that’s scary, so scary because it means he could have been in my house at any time I was in here sleeping. I usually just fall face first onto my bed when I get home and stay there in a coma for eight hours before I have to get up and actually start living again.
Oh God! I never do a check, never.
Lex sighs and grabs my hand, pulling me back down and shoving water at me.
“Don’t freak out on me, Sparrow. It’s okay. Just breathe and try to think clearly.”
Easy for him to say. An intruder lying in wait would take one look at his big ass and run screaming like a hysterical girl. Me, I’m as nonthreatening as a freaking toad in the bowl!
“Hole. Toad in the hole,” he mutters, shaking his head and making me aware that I’m talking out loud.
“God. God. This is bad, isn’t it? I knew I should have moved to Orange County when that university offered me a scholarship! Why didn’t I just move? Because you wanted to stay here and pretend to be a peanut-butter-and-banana-eating corpse with shiny hair and a curled lip. What is wrong with you? It’s not as if being Elvis is all that cool!”
I realize what I just said and start sniffling while apologizing to the King himself for such blasphemy, but honestly, I’m pretty ready to have a go-go, what Nana used to call an attack of nerves—go, go was her yelling at me to leave before I ruined her day with my histrionics, funny. God, I miss that old broad.
“Sparrow! Breathe, all right? I can almost certainly guarantee he wasn’t in here at any time that you were,” he growls, pulling me over and onto his lap to sooth me.
“Really? How do you figure?” I sniff, using his neck as a tissue.
“Well, uh, he’d probably have killed you already if that were the case.”
Killed me?!