by Lisa Childs
No. She wasn’t. Like at the hospital, she was hesitant to see him again—because she was so damn worried about how much he was beginning to mean to her.
Too much.
And all she was to him was an assignment, one he was worried that he was going to fail. But her getting hurt, nearly killed, was her fault. She should not have gone off alone like she had.
“Jocelyn?” he called out again, his deep voice sharp with concern. “Are you all right?”
She forced herself to open the door. The steam from her shower rolled out like fog, encasing them in a dreamy, warm cocoon. “I’m fine...” she said.
“I ordered some tea and food from room service,” he told her. “You must be sore and starved.”
Her stomach pitched at the thought of eating. She didn’t want food. She wanted him.
She needed him.
But he’d stepped back from her earlier.
Dare she risk another rejection?
She reached for the sash of the robe and tugged it loose. And the soft terry cloth parted, revealing her naked body.
A low groan tore from his throat. “Jocelyn, you’re killing me...”
She tensed, worried that she might. She wouldn’t be the one pulling the trigger, but it would still be her fault if something happened to him. “I’m sorry...” And she reached for the sash.
But he tugged it from her fingers. Then he tugged the robe from her body, leaving her completely naked but for the flush spreading over her skin. And that angry red mark around her throat.
She lifted her fingers to her neck to cover it. But he wasn’t staring at her wound. He was staring into her eyes—deeply, as if he was looking into her soul rather than at her body.
His breath shuddered out in a ragged sigh. “You are so damn beautiful...”
She shivered. But she wasn’t cold; her skin flushed as heat raced through her. He stepped closer to her, leaned down and brushed his mouth across hers. Slowly—just their lips meeting and clinging and moving.
He might have meant the kiss to be tender, gentle, but Jocelyn was too hungry, too overwhelmed with passion. She linked her arms around his neck and held his head to hers. Then she kissed him deeply, passionately.
He groaned and lifted and carried her to the bed. After he laid her down, he stared down at her again, with so much heat and hunger in his gaze. He stripped off his clothes until he was as naked as she was—physically.
Then she saw the hunger and need in his dark gaze, and she knew he was just as naked as she was—as vulnerable. He needed her as badly as she needed him.
But yet he took his time with her, moving his hands and lips slowly, seductively, over every inch of her skin. She touched him, too, sliding her fingertips and her lips over muscles that rippled beneath her touch.
“You’re the beautiful one,” she told him. She’d never seen a man as perfectly built as he was.
His body slid over hers, skin sliding over skin. She shivered and clutched at him. She wanted him—so badly.
Then he was there, making love to her with his mouth, making her cry out as she came. But it still wasn’t enough. She felt an ache inside her that only he could fill.
He moved off the bed just long enough to sheathe his erection in a condom. Then he returned, but he flipped on his back and pulled her on top of him. She straddled his hips, then guided his erection inside, and finally that emptiness was filled.
She moved and rocked and rose up and down, driving them both out of their minds. He gripped her hips to hold her steady for a moment.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he said, his eyes bright with passion.
She was burning up—physically and emotionally—as tension wound tightly inside her. She needed a release. So she ground her hips against him, fighting toward that release.
He slid his hands from her hips up her sides until he cupped her breasts. He stroked his thumbs across her tight nipples and she felt the pull from them to her core.
And finally the release hit her, a powerful orgasm moving through her. Her toes curled as she cried out his name.
His hands moved to her hips again, but this time he didn’t hold her still; he propelled her to move faster. And she came again, nearly sobbing as pleasure overwhelmed her.
Then his big body tensed beneath her. He groaned and shouted her name.
She collapsed onto his chest. But he didn’t let her rest. Instead, he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom with him.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a shower,” he said as he turned on the faucet.
“I already had one,” she reminded him.
“Not with me.” And he pulled her under the spray with him. They made love there, too—in the shower, water pouring over them.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, he held her against the tile wall as he thrust into her. She touched the damp bandage on his neck. “Landon, you shouldn’t have gotten this wet.”
He shrugged, and muscles rippled in his arms and chest. “I’m fine.”
He was better than fine. He was perfect.
And Jocelyn was scared...that she was falling in love with her bodyguard.
Parker cursed as Landon’s cell phone once again went immediately to voice mail. What the hell had happened to him? Was he all right?
He’d left the hospital against doctor’s orders Friday night, and he’d lost his backup bodyguards. Of course Parker had had to pull them for another assignment.
He cursed as he thought about how abysmally they’d failed. He hoped that Landon hadn’t, too. He hoped that he and Jocelyn Gerber were all right.
When the voice mail beeped, he said, “Call me back ASAP. Ms. Gerber is going to want to know what Luther’s done now. It’s going to affect her case.”
She’d gone missing, too. Of course, it had only been for the weekend. But this assistant district attorney was known for working weekends. Hell, for working every waking moment.
Was she all right? He’d tried her cell, too, and had left her a similar message. She must have finally played hers because his cell began to vibrate in his hand.
He moved farther into the foyer of Judge Holmes’s house. He didn’t want to disturb the judge or the others who were crowded in his den.
“What’s going to affect my case?” Jocelyn Gerber asked without preamble.
“First off,” Parker said, “are you all right?” She had sounded all right when he’d picked up, but now she hesitated. So long that he asked, “Is Landon all right?”
He shouldn’t have left the hospital.
“He’s fine,” she said. “We’re fine.”
But she didn’t sound fine; she sounded unsettled, on edge. But maybe his messages had caused that. Jocelyn Gerber’s first concern had always been her case.
“What’s going on?” she asked again.
“Bella Holmes has been kidnapped.”
She cursed. “I told the judge to take Tyce Jackson off her protection duty. He’s Luther’s bro—”
“I know,” Parker interrupted. “And the judge did remove him, which is probably how she was taken. Tyce would have made damn sure nothing happened to her.” He suspected the bodyguard had fallen for the beautiful heiress.
“We have to get her back,” Jocelyn said. “Or the judge will need to be recused. And I don’t trust anyone else.”
“You think Luther could have a judge on his payroll?”
“If he has police officers, evidence techs and someone in the district attorney’s office, why wouldn’t he have a judge?” Jocelyn asked.
And Parker groaned. If that was the case, then Luther would want Judge Holmes to recuse himself so someone else could preside over his trial. That meant he had no reason to keep Bella Holmes alive.
“We’ve got to find her,” Parker said.
“
Yes, we do,” Jocelyn agreed. “We’ll come to the judge’s house.”
“He doesn’t want you here,” Parker said. He hadn’t even wanted him to call her. But Parker had been worried about her and Landon anyway. And he’d thought she had a right to know.
“Of course,” she said. “He doesn’t want any hint of impropriety.”
Impropriety was the least of the judge’s concerns at the moment. He was probably upset that he’d removed Tyce as his daughter’s bodyguard because of what Jocelyn had told him. And it didn’t matter to whom Tyce was related. He loved Bella Holmes.
“We have to get her back,” Parker murmured aloud.
“I’ll talk to Luther,” Jocelyn said.
And a deep voice murmured in the background of the call—probably in protest.
Landon wouldn’t want Jocelyn anywhere near Luther Mills. Not when he was threatening her, too. And legally Landon couldn’t sit in on that meeting to protect her.
Jocelyn Gerber would be alone with the ruthless killer and his corrupt lawyer. No wonder Parker could hear Landon protesting in the background. But was he just worried about protecting her?
Or had he fallen for the beautiful ADA?
Chapter 19
For two days there had been no attempts on her life. Nobody shooting at them or trying to run them down. The only danger had been that Landon was falling harder and harder for the beautiful assistant district attorney.
But Parker’s call had reminded him why a relationship between them would never work. Jocelyn cared only about her career—even more than she cared about her life.
“It’s too dangerous,” he told her even as he drove the Payne Protection Agency SUV toward the jail. “You should not meet with him.”
“I won’t be alone with him,” she said. “His lawyer will be there, and a guard will be right outside the door.”
“His lawyer is a sleazebag,” Landon said. He didn’t know who was representing Luther, but that anyone who did was as immoral as he was. “You can’t trust him.”
“The guards—”
“Can’t be trusted either,” he reminded her. “Especially now. They have to know that they’re being investigated. They may blame you for that.”
“The chief and I are working together on that investigation,” she admitted. “But they don’t have anything to worry about—”
“Unless they’re working for him,” he said. And that concerned him. Luther had gotten to too many people. He’d bought or manipulated them into doing what he wanted. And what he wanted was for Jocelyn Gerber to die, probably so that his mole in the DA’s office could take over his case. “You can’t do this,” Landon said even as he pulled up to take a ticket from the parking meter for the jail visiting lot. “It’s not safe.”
“I’m a hell of a lot safer than the judge’s daughter is right now,” Jocelyn said. “I don’t even want to think about what might be happening to her...” She shuddered, so it was apparent that she was thinking about it.
Landon sucked in a breath. From his years of working vice, he knew, too.
“We have to do what we can to find her,” Jocelyn persisted.
He nodded and pulled the SUV into a parking spot.
She flipped down the visor and looked into the mirror to adjust the scarf she’d looped around her neck. After spending two days in that hotel room barely wearing anything, they’d had to stop at her house to pick up clothes and to make sure the neighbor had been taking care of the cat like she’d promised. Jocelyn had grabbed a couple of scarves to hide the angry bruise around her neck.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Landon asked her.
She nodded. “I have to be.”
“Jocelyn—”
“I am,” she assured him. “I feel fine. I just don’t like how it looks. And I don’t want Luther to see it.”
“And know how close he came to succeeding in having you killed?”
“We’re not sure that he was behind the attack.”
He sighed. “You’d still rather believe it was someone else.”
“I don’t know what to believe,” she said. And she turned toward him, her blue eyes soft with regret. “I was wrong about your friend. Parker made it clear that if Tyce hadn’t been removed as Bella’s bodyguard, she probably wouldn’t have been abducted.”
“He can’t know that,” Landon said. Jocelyn had nearly died several times with him protecting her. “Tyce might have been killed trying to protect her.”
“I think that’s what he meant,” Jocelyn said. “That Tyce would have died before letting anyone take her.”
“So you saved Tyce’s life,” he assured her. “And we’ll save Bella’s.” If she was still alive...
He wasn’t sure exactly what Luther wanted with her. Did he really think he’d manipulate the judge into ruling in his favor and that Jocelyn would let that happen? He had to know she’d make the judge recuse himself.
And maybe that was what he wanted. He could have a judge in his pocket just like he had an ADA and who the hell knew how many cops.
“Okay,” he said. And he opened his door and walked around the hood, careful to check the parking lot for any sign of that car with the tinted windows. But he’d made certain nobody had followed him here.
The shooter could have been waiting for them, though, because Jocelyn had had to call that sleazy lawyer to set up this meeting. It wouldn’t have been legal if she hadn’t.
He walked around and opened her door. Jocelyn swung her legs out. And an image flashed through his mind of those long, toned legs wrapped around his waist, wound over his shoulders, bent over...
Desire rushed over him, heating his blood. They’d made love so many times, but he still ached for her.
Jocelyn drew in a deep breath, as if bracing herself, before she stepped out onto the asphalt.
Landon knew she didn’t like visiting the jail any more than he liked her visiting it. But it was part of her job, and Jocelyn didn’t shy away from any part of her job—no matter how tough or how dangerous.
A guard at her side, Jocelyn walked up to the door of the little conference room where she would meet with Luther and his lawyer. Her heels clicked against the concrete floor, sounding like small-caliber gunshots echoing off the concrete walls and ceiling, too. Instinctively, she felt the urge to duck and take cover.
“His lawyer is already inside,” the guard told her as he reached for the door. “But we’re bringing Luther down from his cell right now.”
Luther. Not the inmate. Not even Mills...
Landon was right. She couldn’t trust the guards—at least, not one who was on a first-name basis with a dangerous murderer. She glanced behind the burly guard, wishing she would see Landon. But the guards searching him must not have been done yet. She’d been searched and had headed back alone.
She’d hated to leave him—especially after the two days they’d had together. Two days that had seemed like a dream. They couldn’t have been real; she couldn’t have experienced as much pleasure as he’d given her.
But she had.
The guard opened the door and held it for her. “Ms. Gerber, have you changed your mind?”
She shook her head and stepped inside. The lawyer sat already at the table in the conference room. Even though it was late at night, he looked perfectly coiffed, his black hair slicked back. His suit was perfect, too.
Jocelyn lifted her fingers to her throat, checking that the scarf hadn’t slipped. She wore it for protection, to hide the bruises, but now she realized it could be used as a weapon like her attacker must have used his tie. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn it.
But it was too late now. The door on the other side of the room opened and Luther Mills stepped in, a grin curving his lips when he saw her.
“It’s like my dream come to life,” Luther murmured as he took the seat acro
ss from her. “The things you and I were just doing, Jocelyn...” His dark-eyed gaze slipped from her face down over her body, and he wriggled his brows at her.
She resisted the urge to shudder with revulsion. That was what he wanted—to affect her, to scare her. So she stared down her nose at him. “I am not here to discuss your dreams, Mr. Mills.”
“That’s a damn shame,” he said. “I think you might like what I was doing to you.”
Her disgust churned in her stomach, but she only glared at him, acting as unmoved as possible. Luther Mills was a predator looking for the weakest victim, so she could show no weakness to him.
“Mr. Mills,” his lawyer intervened, sweat beginning to bead on his high forehead. “Ms. Gerber called this meeting with concerns that you’re behind the abduction of Judge Holmes’s daughter.” And it was clear that he shared her concerns but wanted no part of this one of Luther’s crimes.
Luther widened his eyes with obviously feigned innocence. “The judge has a daughter?” he asked. “I didn’t even know that.”
Jocelyn glared at him again. “Everyone knows how much the judge’s daughter means to him.”
“More than justice?” Luther scoffed. “I find that hard to believe.”
Luther had apparently never loved anyone more than himself or his money. He didn’t understand how far a person might go to protect someone they loved.
She thought of Landon, of that bullet striking his neck. She could have lost him so easily. But then, he really wasn’t hers to lose—despite their idyllic weekend. He was still just her bodyguard.
And the reason she needed a bodyguard was because of this man. Sure, other people had threatened her, but it was too much of a coincidence for them to act on those threats now—when Luther was trying to take out everyone associated with his trial. Even the judge’s innocent daughter.
“Your plan is not going to work,” she told Luther.
He leaned forward, so that his face neared hers.
She forced herself not to pull back as he studied her very intently and unsettlingly.
“What do you think my plan is?” he asked her.