Shattered: (McIntyre Security Bodyguard Series - Book 4)

by April Wilson

  “Tell it to the judge, pal,” Lia says. Then she glances at the dumbstruck cashier, who’s standing frozen behind the check-out counter. “What are you waiting for?” she says. “Call 911.”

  As the cashier fumbles for his cordless phone and makes the call, Shane looks back at me. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

  “I’m fine,” I say, rubbing the arm Shane grabbed. I’m pretty sure I’ll have bruises.

  I’m still reeling from shock. This is the first time I’ve ever seen Shane or Lia draw a gun on someone. It was amazing how they responded, perfectly in sync with each other as if they did this all the time. I guess that’s what all their training is for.

  Shane holsters his gun and pulls me into his arms. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s over.”

  I just now realize how badly I’m shaking. I look over at Jonah, who’s gazing with concern at Lia. She has her gun trained on the would-be robber, keeping him contained until the police arrive. Jonah catches my gaze and shakes his head. I know he worries about Lia and her tendency to run toward danger instead of away from it. But she’s a McIntyre, and expecting them to behave any differently is futile.

  The police arrive within minutes – two squad cars pull up to the front of the shop with their lights flashing. Four officers storm the shop, weapons drawn, but they quickly lower their handguns when they see that the situation is under control.

  Two of the officers take custody of the perpetrator and load him into their patrol car. The other two officers remain behind to take our statements.

  When Jonah tries to pay for his selections, the cashier waves him away, saying in a shaky voice, “Don’t bother, man. It’s on the house.”

  Jonah laughs, shaking his head as he pulls out his wallet and hands the cashier his credit card.

  Chapter 8

  When we leave the clothing shop, we step out onto a sidewalk packed with curious pedestrians, most of whom were drawn here by the arrival of the two police cruisers. A few of the onlookers recognize Jonah and start snapping pics and typing madly on their phones. A couple of them are even brave enough to approach Jonah and ask for his autograph.

  “Well, that was fun,” Lia says, when we can finally resume walking.

  Jonah, who’s been very quiet since we left the clothing shop, pulls Lia close, tucking her beneath his broad shoulder. I know he struggles with the idea of her being in harm’s way. But she’s a McIntyre – they run into burning buildings, not away from them. It’s something he’s going to have to get used to.

  “Who’s hungry?” Lia says, practically bouncing on her feet as she turns back to look at me and Shane. “How does Thai sound?”

  “That sounds fine to me,” Shane says, squeezing my hand. “Beth?”

  “Perfect,” I say. “I’m starving.”

  Shane pulls out his phone. “Let’s call in a carry-out order and head back to the penthouse. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  “I’ll second that,” Jonah says. “I’ve had enough shopping to last a lifetime.”

  On our walk back, we stop at the restaurant to pick up our order, then hail a taxi to take us to the penthouse. Lia and Jonah come up to our floor with us, and we walk into an empty apartment.

  “Lights on,” Shane says, as we step through the foyer into the great room. Chandeliers high overhead flicker on, casting a warm light throughout the big space. Beyond the walls of windows, we have a panoramic view of the Lake Michigan shoreline. It’s nearing dusk, and the sky is filled with heavy, dark clouds. It looks like we’re in for a storm tonight.

  Shane picks up the piece of paper lying on the breakfast bar. “Looks like Cooper’s out for the evening,” he says, laying down the note.

  “Did he say where he was going?” I ask.

  Shane shakes his head. “Just that he’s going out for the evening, and not to expect him back until morning.”

  He’s been doing that more and more lately, staying out all night, and I have to wonder who he’s with. He hasn’t mentioned that he’s seeing anyone.

  “Come on, guys, let’s eat!” Lia says, grabbing the remote control and turning on the TV. She brings up Deadpool – her favorite movie.

  Lia and I unpack the food and set the containers on the coffee table in front of the sofa, while Shane and Jonah grab drinks for everyone. The guys seat themselves on the sofa, and Lia and I sit on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table. It’s quite the cozy double date.

  When we’ve eaten our fill, Lia and I move to the sofa and get cozy with our guys. I can’t help smiling at Lia, who’s sitting on Jonah’s lap and whispering movie lines in his ear. I swear she’s memorized the entire movie. Jonah, who’s absently stroking Lia’s thigh, has a perpetual grin on his face.

  When the movie ends, Shane and I carry the trash to the kitchen. Lia has shifted so that she’s straddling Jonah’s lap now, her fingers threading through his wavy hair, and she’s teasing him with light kisses.

  Shane had confided in me a few weeks ago that he intentionally assigned Lia as Jonah’s bodyguard. He’d recognized immediately that Jonah was a bit infatuated with his sister, and given Jonah’s steady, easy-going personality, Shane thought Jonah might be just what Lia needed in her life. He’d hoped that something might spark between the two of them, and he was right.

  As he’s dumping our trash into the waste basket, I nudge him with my hip and he looks at me quizzically.

  “Good call,” I whisper as I look pointedly at the love birds across the room.

  He smiles, nodding. Then he backs me into a kitchen counter and leans in for a kiss. “You have no idea how happy I am that she finally has someone.”

  It’s not long before Lia and Jonah say their goodnights and head down to their own apartment, leaving me and Shane alone in ours since our roommate is out for the evening. Shane turns off all the lights in the great room, leaving us shrouded in darkness. Outside, the night sky is black, with only stars and the ambient lights of the surrounding skyscrapers to illuminate the view.

  “Finally, we’re alone,” he says, scooping me up into his arms and carrying me to the bar, where he deposits me on the counter. We’re not more than ten feet from the wall of windows, and a shiver courses through me. I know what he has on his mind.

  We have an unimpeded view of the city we both love so much, and as all our lights are off, no one can see into the penthouse. It’s like we’re in our own special world.

  Shane drops down onto the barstool directly in front of me and spreads my knees, so that he’s seated between them. I reach out and run my fingers through his hair, tugging gently on the short strands. He groans with pleasure and leans into my touch. Then he lifts his face up for a kiss and I oblige him.

  “You’re overdressed,” he says, removing one of my sneakers and dropping it to the floor.

  He proceeds to remove my other sneaker, then my socks. Then he stands and unfastens my jeans and lowers the zipper. “Lean back on the counter,” he says in a low, rough voice.

  He presses his hand against my chest and gently pushes me back on the counter. I reach behind me to prop myself on my elbows.

  Leaning back, I can raise my hips just enough that he can pull my jeans down my legs. Then he reaches for the hem of my sweatshirt and lifts it up and over my head. I’m left in just my bra and panties, and I flush with anticipation.

  His blue eyes are burning as his gaze sweeps my body, which is illuminated only by moonlight coming through the big windows. Then his gaze meets mine, and he brushes his thumb across my cheek. “Every day I wake up thankful you’re in my life. I love you.”

  I smile, amazed at how easily he can wreck me. I have to swallow hard before I can speak. “I love you, too.”

  His warm index finger starts at the base of my throat and slowly skims a path down the center of my chest, dipping into my slight cleavage, and coming to rest at the front clasp of my cream-colored lacey bra. Wordlessly, he flicks open the clasp, and the two halves of my bra spring open
. I shiver when the cool air hits my breasts.

  I can’t help glancing nervously out the windows. In the distance, I see the flickering lights of a helicopter making its way lazily across the Chicago skyline. I know perfectly well that no one can see us – see me, as I’m the one who’s practically naked. All they’ll see is a wall of obsidian glass reflecting the lights of the city’s nighttime skyline.

  Being exposed like this, even knowing no one can actually see me, makes my heart race and my belly quiver with anticipation. I admit I might be a closet exhibitionist, because when he does this to me it turns me on, and I think Shane realizes that.

  Shane brushes aside the cups of my bra, then lays his hands on my breasts. His touch feels so good I moan, which makes him smile. Then his hand slides down to cup my left breast and he leans forward to suck my nipple into his mouth. I groan loudly, and he chuckles.

  He stands then and pulls my butt to the edge of the bar counter so that our bodies are touching. I can feel the thick length of his erection pressing into my belly. Taking hold of my hand, he brings it to his cock, holding my hand against the fabric of his jeans. “Feel what you do to me. Every minute of every day, this is what you do to me.”

  My sex clenches with a powerful, aching need, and I can feel the moisture pooling between my legs. This man can seduce me with his voice alone, turning me into a whimpering, hot mess.

  “Shane, please....”

  His mouth covers mine. “Please what?” he says against my trembling lips.

  “I need you.”

  “I know.” He reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “I need you too. But you’ve got to be patient because I’m going to make this last.”

  I laugh. “Patience isn’t my strong suit, you know.”

  He grins. “I know.”

  He returns his attention to my breasts, kissing them, sucking my nipples into his mouth, first one, then the other, and bathing them with his tongue. He suckles the pink tips until they pucker up like little shriveled berries. Then he trails kisses down my abdomen, past my belly, to the rim of my matching lace panties.

  I gasp when he leans down to press his nose between my legs, breathing in deeply. He kisses the damp fabric of my panties, right over my mound of curls, and then I feel his finger slip beneath the fabric.

  “Oh, God,” I moan, tilting my head back and closing my eyes to savor the pleasure.

  His finger explores my sex, dipping inside my opening and drawing the silky moisture up to my clit. He bathes that little bundle of nerves with my wetness, then pulls me upright for a kiss. One of his hands slips around the back of my neck to hold me close as his mouth dominates mine, taking control of our kiss.

  My breath is coming fast now as the thumb of his other hand circles my clit, teasing me and driving up my pleasure.

  My body starts shaking. “Shane!”

  He keeps up the torture, intent on making me come. Pleasure coils low in my belly, and I’m trembling now, straining toward the release that’s hovering just out of my reach. I’m fairly panting now against his lips, and he murmurs encouragement.

  When he lightly pinches my clit, fireworks go off inside me, and my entire body tightens as pleasure rockets through me. I cry out his name, and he drinks it in.

  Shane yanks open his jeans and shoves down his boxer briefs, freeing his thick erection, which strains upward in defiance of gravity. The head of his cock is darkened from his arousal and glistening with pre-come. He rubs it against my wetness, anointing himself, then nudges it inside my opening.

  “Okay?” he says, his voice low and hoarse.

  “Yes,” I gasp, touched that he thinks of my history of anxiety. But as long as I’m not pinned down, I’m usually okay.

  We both watch his cock sink slowly inside me. He still has his sweatshirt on, and I slip my hands up beneath it and stroke his bare chest. He groans, then whips off his sweatshirt and drops it to the floor, giving me free access to explore his chest.

  He pulls me right to the edge of the counter and presses my thighs wide apart so he can get closer. I can feel his erection sinking deeper and deeper, one slow inch at a time. It feels so good as he fills me.

  Once he’s seated fully inside, I wrap my legs around his hips, and his mouth drops to my shoulder, where he kisses me before trailing his lips to my throat. His mouth sucks languidly on my pulse point, in concert with his slow and easy thrusts inside me. As usual, he’s not in any rush for this to end. He strokes in and out of me with measured thrusts carefully angled to hit me in just the right place. The pleasure is so intense, so deep and exquisite, that all I can do is hold onto him, trembling and whimpering, and surrender myself to it. His thumb returns to my clit, teasing me relentlessly until my body obeys him and explodes with pleasure. I cry out as my entire body tightens, my sex clamping down on his erection, which sets up Shane’s climax.

  Following right after me, Shane erupts inside me with a raw, hoarse shout. His head is thrown back, his neck arched, the tendons pulled taut. As we remain joined for a while, just holding each other, he strokes my back and murmurs in my ear.

  When we finally separate, he grabs a fresh hand towel from the stack on the bar counter and cleans up the evidence of our lovemaking.

  “We made a mess,” I say, laughing.

  “And it was well worth it.”

  Then he carries me through the penthouse to our suite and deposits me in our bathroom so I can clean up, take my pill, and brush my teeth.

  Afterwards, we climb into our big, cozy bed and fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Chapter 9

  On Monday morning, Erin storms into my office at Clancy’s and plops down on the sofa in my office. “We are so screwed!”

  I look up from the e-mail I’m reading and try not to laugh at the tragic look on her face. “Why’s that?”

  “The new Nora Roberts books didn’t come in on the truck today. Our customers are going to kill us!”

  I smile at the expression of utter doom on Erin’s face. Even frazzled as she is now, Erin O’Connor is darling. Keeping her on as assistant manager was probably one of the best decisions I ever made when I assumed ownership of Clancy’s Bookshop a few months ago.

  “It’s not funny, Beth!” Erin cries, throwing her hands up in the air. “We have four book clubs – count them, four! – coming in Wednesday to pick up their copies, and we have nothing to give them. Nothing!”

  “Why all the drama, sweetie?” Sam says, walking through my office doorway carrying two cups of coffee from our downstairs café. He hands me one, a dark chocolate mint latte with whipped cream and chocolate curls on top. Heaven!

  “Thank you,” I say, closing my eyes as I savor my first sweet sip of chocolaty goodness for the morning. It’s only ten in the morning, and I need extra fortification today. The holiday season is fast approaching, and I’m learning firsthand the joys of running a large retail establishment during the busiest time of the year. On top of that, I’m finishing up my first pair of online class as part of my MBA program at University of Chicago. If I survive the holidays, it will be a miracle.

  Sam drops onto the sofa beside Erin and wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. “What’s wrong, cupcake? Tell Sammy all about it.”

  Erin lays her head on Sam’s shoulder and sighs. “Our new Nora Roberts books weren’t on the truck this morning. We’re doomed.”

  Sam glances my way and rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, cupcake,” he says, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “The boss will figure something out.”

  “Me?” I say, raising my eyebrows.

  “Yes, you,” he says. “You’re the boss. Do something to fix this disaster before cupcake has a coronary.”

  I sigh. “All right.”

  My phone rings then, and I check the screen. It’s Shane, thank God. “Hi, honey,” I say, brightening as I take his call. Hearing his voice over the phone while I’m at work is definitely the highlight of my day. “What’s up?”

 
“I can’t talk long – I’ve got a meeting in two minutes. I just wanted to ask if you can fit me in for lunch today. Can I pick you up?”

  “Yes! I would love that. Eleven-thirty?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “I’ll be ready. I love you.”

  He chuckles. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

  I end the call and look at the two seated on the sofa. Erin’s looking at me with a hopeful expression on her sweet, freckled face. “All right,” I say, making a quick executive decision. “Erin, call the distributor and have them overnight the books to us. We’ll have them here first thing in the morning. Is that suitable?”

  Erin’s blue eyes widen. “Oh, my God, you realize that will cost a fortune, right?”

  I nod. “Yes, I do. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Oh, thank you!” She rises from the sofa and rushes over to hug me. Then she straightens, taking a deep, calming breath as she smooths down her skirt. “I can survive the day now.”

  Erin walks out of my office with her head held high, and Sam props his chunky boots on the coffee table. “Well, you made her day. Good job, boss.”

  I smile at him. “She’s right, though. It’s going to cost a fortune. Our profit margin just went up in smoke.” I make a poofing action with my fingers. “In fact, I’m sure we’ll lose money on these books.”

  “That may be so, but at least Erin and the book clubs will be happy, and that’s what matters. A depressed Erin O’Connor is a sad thing to behold.”

  * * *

  I have an hour and a half before Shane arrives to pick me up for lunch, so I head downstairs to mingle with customers and help straighten up the shop. No matter how hard we try to keep things neat and organized, it’s a losing battle. The displays get messed up in no time.

  Sam is my shadow, as always. Ever since Lia was reassigned as Jonah Locke’s bodyguard, Sam’s been my primary bodyguard. He picks me up at eight o-clock very morning at the penthouse, brings me here, and he’s with me all day until he drops me back off at home at five-thirty.