Close Quarters With the Bodyguard

by Lisa Childs

  That wasn’t enough for Landon, though. He was too much of a cop yet. He didn’t just want to protect his principal. He wanted to catch the person after her. And he wanted to stop him permanently.

  Parker had a feeling that wasn’t just because of Landon’s police background, though. This assignment had gotten personal for him.

  Something was going on between him and Jocelyn Gerber, just like Parker suspected something was going on between Clint and Rosie Mendez.

  Had he made a mistake when handing out assignments?

  He’d known nobody would protect Rosie Mendez better than Clint would. Clint felt guilty over her brother’s death and would do anything to make sure she was not harmed.

  Nobody had felt guilty about Jocelyn Gerber. They’d all just been suspicious of her—no one more than Landon. So he’d assigned Landon to protect her because he’d known the former vice cop would find out the truth about her.

  He hadn’t realized that truth might have Landon falling for her. And it certainly sounded like he had—at least literally—when he’d fallen off the parking structure to save her.

  Was he falling for her emotionally, as well?

  “I’m sorry,” Parker said. “I shouldn’t have assigned you to protect her.”

  “What?” Landon asked, and he sounded befuddled.

  Was he really okay?

  “I know you didn’t want this assignment,” Parker reminded him. “So I’ll take you off now. I’ll have one of Logan’s team protect her.” That would be for the best—for all of them.

  Parker couldn’t risk losing one of his team. And he was already worried that Clint might not survive his assignment. He couldn’t lose Landon, too.

  Chapter 13

  Landon silently cursed himself for putting Parker’s call on speaker. Sitting in the passenger’s seat next to him, she’d heard every word his boss had said. And she’d tensed more and more. It had been a while since he’d ended the call, but she had yet to say anything.

  Making sure that the security guard was okay and giving Dubridge the report at the scene had taken so long that they’d decided to talk to the chief another day. Jocelyn had asked that he bring her home instead—to check on the cat and make sure she still had enough food and water in the laundry room.

  Whoever Spencer Dubridge had recommended to repair the house must have had an opening because the windows had been replaced.

  Jocelyn breathed a sigh of relief. “We can stay here now.”

  She obviously didn’t want to go back to that hotel with him. Did she regret what had happened between them? He wished he did, but he couldn’t regret what had probably been the most powerful sexual experience of his life.

  The way she’d fit him...the way she’d felt...and the pleasure she’d brought him.

  He’d never known feelings like that before. But it didn’t matter. He’d crossed a line with a client—a line that he never should have even gotten close to.

  “Why didn’t you let Parker remove you from this assignment?” she asked. “It’s obviously what you want.”

  “It’s true that I didn’t want this assignment in the beginning,” he said. “I wasn’t a fan of yours.”

  “You thought I was working for Luther.”

  “I was wrong,” he said. “About that, about you...” So very wrong. It might have been easier had he been right—then he wouldn’t have succumbed to his attraction to her. He would have been able to resist her beauty, her sexiness.

  But knowing her reasons for working so hard, for wanting justice so badly, had made her even more attractive to him—so attractive that she had become irresistible. He wanted her now.

  He sighed. “Yeah, I should have had Parker reassign me.”

  “Dubridge would probably prefer you protecting him than Keeli Abbott.”

  “Keeli would prefer that more,” he said. If anyone deserved to be reassigned, it was the blonde bodyguard. Her principal gave her nothing but disrespect and grief.

  But Keeli was the strongest woman he knew; she could take it. Well, she was the strongest woman he’d known until he’d gotten to know Jocelyn Gerber. She seemed more upset about the conversation she’d overheard than having to jump off a parking structure earlier or getting shot at.

  “Would she want to protect me?” Jocelyn asked. “Or, like everyone else, does she think I purposely failed to get those previous indictments against Luther?”

  He flinched as he remembered previous conversations with Keeli about this particular assistant district attorney.

  “So she’s not a fan of mine either,” Jocelyn murmured, and she hurried into the kitchen, as if trying to get away from him. But then she continued to the laundry room, opening the door to a mewling cat. Behind her, the water bowl and food dish were full. He remembered that, shortly after they’d left her house the night of the shooting, Jocelyn had called someone to check on her pet. Had it been a neighbor or that office intern?

  Lady wound around her legs, purring rumbling from her furry body. Jocelyn bent over and wrapped her arms around the feline. “I’m staying here,” she said. “The house is secure—especially with my alarm. And the glass I had them install is bulletproof. It’s safer than the hotel.”

  She was right. It was.

  “So you don’t need to stay,” she told him.

  She really wanted to get rid of him. Because of what had happened between them? Or because of the conversation she’d overheard?

  “I’m staying,” he said. “I am your bodyguard.” He crouched down, like she was, beside the cat, and he slid his fingers under Jocelyn’s chin, tipping her face up so she had to meet his gaze. “And I am a fan now.”

  Her face flushed with color, and her eyes brightened. But then she blinked away the moisture in them. “Why?”

  “Because you’re tough,” he said.

  Her breath shuddered out. “I’m not sure about that...” she said. “Maybe I’m just hard to kill.”

  He hoped like hell that that was the case because he didn’t want her to die.

  “Or maybe you’re just a really good bodyguard.”

  He chuckled. “I’d go with your being hard to kill.” Because he hadn’t been doing his job—at least, not as well as he usually did. And he was about to fail again and give in to the temptation to kiss her.

  But then her phone rang, making the purse dangling over her shoulder vibrate. She pulled out the cell and accepted the call. But she didn’t put it on speaker.

  Landon had no idea who’d called her and why all the color suddenly drained from her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, fear gripping him because he could see fear on her face, as well. “What’s happened?”

  She shook her head, as if unable to speak. As if whatever she’d heard was too terrible to repeat. Finally she murmured, “The witness. It was about the witness...”

  Had something happened to her? To them?

  Now Landon wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that call had been about—because he was worried that he might have just lost his best friend.

  Even as upset as Jocelyn was, she was still aware of Landon, still attracted to him. She even felt bad that she’d worried him. But she didn’t want to talk about that call she’d taken—not yet. She needed confirmation before she could believe it.

  But she felt a sick churning in her stomach that it was true. So she didn’t even notice the trip from River City to the Payne Protection Agency safe house near the shoreline of Lake Michigan. Landon didn’t press her for information during the drive. He’d seemed more focused on the rearview mirror, and making sure they weren’t followed, than on her—except for a few worried glances he’d cast across the console at her.

  She’d wanted to reassure him. He was probably thinking the worst. And for him, this wasn’t the worst. For her, though...

  Landon made one last turn off the street
, through the opening door of a garage on the main level of a town-house condo. Once the door closed behind them, he opened his and hurried around to her side of the SUV. But she’d already opened her door before he could. She doubted she was in any danger in the garage.

  No. The danger was upstairs, where Landon led her to meet with the witness. He released an audible breath, obviously relieved that his friend and Rosie Mendez appeared unharmed. But something was going on between them.

  The minute Rosie saw Jocelyn, she turned toward Clint and implored him, “Please, can you give us a minute alone?”

  Clint glanced over at Jocelyn, and his green eyes were narrowed with suspicion.

  And that sick feeling roiled in her stomach. Apparently everybody had suspected that she worked for Luther. The thought made her physically ill.

  Clint shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

  “I’m not leaving either,” Landon said.

  Jocelyn grimaced. She would have preferred to speak privately with Rosie; she figured it might be her only way to get through to the frightened young woman. “Bodyguards don’t understand that sometimes we need to be alone,” she said with a pointed look at Landon, hoping he’d take the hint.

  She probably should have told him about the call. But she’d been too focused on the argument she needed to present to Rosie to talk at all. She focused on the woman now, and Rosie shivered. She knew that Jocelyn knew. So she dropped all pretenses.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Jocelyn asked. But she directed the question at Clint Quarters. “Why would you bring her to the jail?” She didn’t wait for his response, though, before she turned on Rosie. “And what the hell were you thinking? You might have jeopardized the whole case!”

  “What?” Landon asked, his dark eyes wide with shock.

  She should have clued him in after she’d taken the call. But she did so now. “She went to see Luther Mills.” She pointed a shaking finger at Clint. “And he brought her!”

  Landon turned to Clint, his brow furrowed with confusion. “What was the deal? Did you have her wear a wire?”

  “Like Luther Mills would have said anything incriminating!” Jocelyn exclaimed. But then she turned back to Rosie and asked, “Did he?”

  Rosie shook her head.

  Jocelyn felt the case slipping away from her, felt Luther slipping away from justice once again. “His lawyer could have a field day with this—with you—when he cross-examines you on the witness stand.”

  “He won’t,” Rosie told her.

  “The man is a shark,” Jocelyn said. “Of course he will. He’s going to tear you apart.”

  And Clint tensed, his hands curling into fists. Now he chose to act protectively? What the hell had he been thinking to let the witness anywhere near Luther Mills?

  “No, he won’t,” Rosie said, “because I have no intention of testifying.”

  “What!” Clint beat Jocelyn to the exclamation.

  And that was why Jocelyn hadn’t spoken during the trip to the safe house; that was the fear she’d had. “That’s why you shouldn’t have brought her there. He intimidated her into changing her mind.”

  Landon, predictably, came to the defense of his best friend, turning on Jocelyn to ask, “You don’t think all the attempts on her life were intimidation enough?”

  Clint ignored his friend, though, and spoke only to Rosie, his voice soft. “I promised I would keep you safe.”

  “There’s no need,” she told him. “I’m safe now.”

  Jocelyn narrowed her eyes and studied the two of them, how intensely they were looking at each other. Had Rosie gone to see Luther for her sake or for Clint’s?

  Clint snorted. “You really believe that Luther Mills will keep his word to you? That he won’t have you killed the minute you walk out of here with no protection?”

  “Quarters is right,” Jocelyn said. “There is no way that Luther Mills will let you stay alive—not when you are the greatest threat to his freedom. You have to testify.”

  “You should be glad that I changed my mind,” Rosie said.

  Confusion furrowed Jocelyn’s brow and she incredulously asked, “Why the hell would I be happy?”

  “Because now you’re safe, too,” Rosie told her, as if she’d done her a favor. “He won’t have any reason to threaten you or the others if there’s not enough evidence to bring him to trial.”

  Horrified, Jocelyn could only gasp. “There’s still enough evidence.” And now the person who’d collected it was in even more danger than she’d previously been. She glanced at Landon. “The CSI tech—Wendy.”

  “Wendy Thompson,” Landon said. “Hart Fisher is protecting her.”

  “She hasn’t changed her mind about testifying, has she?” Had Luther gotten to her like he must have gotten to Rosie? Had she been nearly killed?

  Jocelyn silently cursed the incident in the parking garage. If they hadn’t been nearly run over, they would have talked to Wendy, and Jocelyn would know how badly her case against Luther was falling apart.

  Landon shrugged.

  “We need to talk to her,” Jocelyn said, and she turned toward the stairs they’d come up from the garage. “We need to make sure Mills hasn’t gotten to her like he has this witness.” She suspected now that it was disgust churning in her stomach. She couldn’t believe how many people would help a monster like Luther elude justice. She turned back toward Rosie Mendez and asked, “What did he give you? Money? What did it take for you to sell out? To sell the justice your brother deserves?”

  Rosie flinched. “You don’t know my brother,” she said. “Don’t act like you know what he deserves or wanted.”

  She’d known other victims. She could have told Rosie about them—about her grandparents. But she was more worried about Wendy Thompson right now, so she turned on her heel and headed toward the stairs leading down to the garage.

  Before following her down, Landon turned back toward his friend and murmured, “What the hell...?”

  Jocelyn was glad he sounded as disgusted as she was. But when he joined her in the SUV, he defended his friend. “I don’t think Clint knew that she’d changed her—”

  “He shouldn’t have brought her to the jail,” Jocelyn said.

  “I brought you there,” Landon said.

  “I am not the witness,” she said. “And I didn’t see Luther. She shouldn’t have either. What the hell was he thinking? Is he working for him?”

  Landon’s hands tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “Absolutely not. Clint wants justice for Javier as much as you do.”

  “And apparently we both want that more than his own sister does.”

  “I think Rosie wants justice,” Landon said. “I think she’s just scared. She’s nearly been killed so many times.”

  “So has Clint,” Jocelyn murmured. So he probably wasn’t working for Luther.

  “That’s his job,” Landon said. “My job. That’s what bodyguards do—risk our lives to protect our clients.”

  Jocelyn remembered the look that had passed between Clint and Rosie—an intimate look. They were more than bodyguard and client. Rosie hadn’t seemed worried about her own safety before. And maybe she wasn’t worried about herself now either.

  Maybe she was worried about Clint instead.

  Remembering the fall from that parking-garage half wall, remembering how hard Landon’s body had struck the roof of that SUV... Jocelyn shuddered.

  And she wished that Landon would have let his boss remove him from this assignment. She wished that he wasn’t going to keep risking his life for hers. And she suspected that, just like Rosie Mendez, she was getting too attached to her bodyguard.

  But unlike Clint Quarters, Landon wasn’t in love with her. He was just doing his job. Jocelyn had to remind herself of that—so that she didn’t fall for him like R
osie had clearly fallen for Clint.

  Despite all the muscle he’d built up weight lifting in the jailhouse gym, Luther felt a hundred pounds lighter. He’d struck a deal with Rosie Mendez—a deal he had no intention of keeping. But that didn’t matter.

  She wasn’t testifying against him either way. And now that he could focus on that annoying little evidence tech, he wouldn’t have to worry about her much longer either.

  He snickered, then pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He punched in the number that had dialed him last. The guy thought he’d taken out Jocelyn Gerber. But he’d learned that those damn Payne Protection bodyguards were good at their jobs—too damn good.

  “Hello?” the man tentatively answered.

  “Hey,” Luther said. “I am no longer concerned about that little problem you’ve been trying to take care of for me.”

  “You’re not?” the man asked with obvious surprise.

  Luther chuckled again. “No. I have no worries anymore. And I really want to see Jocelyn Gerber’s gorgeous face when she loses. Again...”

  Maybe he would offer to take her out for drinks afterward—to console her on yet another loss to him. After all the weeks he’d spent in jail with only ugly mugs around him, he’d enjoy looking at her.

  Hell, he would enjoy doing a lot more than just looking.

  “It’s in my best interest to continue with the original plan,” the man cryptically replied.

  “Then you’re the one with another loss on your record,” Luther pointed out.

  “I’d rather have the loss than a personal conviction.”

  Oh. He thought Jocelyn was onto him. And maybe she was. She was pretty smart.

  He sighed. “Then do what you have to do...” But he felt a flash of disappointment as he clicked off the cell. It was too bad—really. She was so hot.

  But soon she would be so dead.

  Chapter 14

  “I want you to fire the Payne Protection Agency!” Jocelyn Gerber demanded, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she paced the chief’s office.