by Brooks, Anna
GUARDING HER BOOK 6
ANNA BROOKS
They will risk it all to protect what’s theirs.
Nobody gets in their way and nothing will stop them.
These are the men of Royal Ace Security.
Copyright © 2020 Anna Brooks
Published by Anna Brooks
Cover design by Melissa Gill Designs
Editing by Editing4Indies
Proofreading by Kimberly Holm
Formatting by Champagne Book Design
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
About the Book
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Preview of Surface
Preview of Bulletproof Butterfly
Notes and Stuff
Other Books by Anna
About the Author
Acknowledgments
About the Book
When I opened the file and saw her face, I knew I was in trouble. The first time she put her hand in mine, I should have simply taken her home and continued to keep her safe from a distance. But her pull was too strong, her beauty too irresistible, and before I knew it was happening, she’d brought me to my knees.
I wasn’t the only one who was falling, though. She loved the man I pretended to be, and it killed me to know that when she found out who I really was, the hurt I caused her was something I couldn’t protect her from.
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Dedication
For Stephanie. You were a life saver! Thank you so much for being such a great friend and for talking plot (after plot after plot)!
Prologue
Q
“Thank you for coming in, Ms. Rivers.” I close the door behind her and motion for her to take a seat in one of the dozen leather chairs around the large conference table on the first floor of Royal Ace Security.
Her heels are the definition of high, and it surprises me that someone can actually walk with a five-inch toothpick on their foot, but she does with a sway of her hips that I’m sure is meant to entice. “Of course. Thank you for working so quickly.”
I nod as I wait for her to sit, then resume my place at the head of the table. Before I can open my mouth to tell her the results of my search, she asks anxiously, “Did you find her?” She’s chewing on the bright red acrylic nail of her thumb, her already frantic eyes darting around the room like a ping-pong ball.
I give her the answer she’s looking for. “I did.” It took me all of an hour to locate her long-lost daughter. I slide an envelope toward her, and she practically yanks it out of my hand and tears it open to rip out the single piece of paper. “In the envelope, I’ve provided her address for you.”
“And that’s it?” She turns the paper over and back again, then repeats it as if words will magically appear. “Where’s the rest of the stuff?”
Raising a brow, I ask calmly, “What other stuff?”
“Her history, what she’s been doing for the past ten years, work schedule, financials, boyfriends, all of the stuff you were supposed to get me.”
“Ms. Rivers, I—”
“Debt. Is she in debt? Does she need money?”
“Ms. Rivers, I—”
“Call me Roxy. I’m not old enough to be a miss anything.”
She’s near on forty-five years old, but it’s clear with the amount of plastic surgery she’s had and the provocative clothing and overabundance of makeup, she wants to believe she’s still in her twenties. “Okay, then. Roxy. You hired us to find her. That’s what I did. We didn’t agree to an expansive search. The sort of information you’re talking about takes more time and a lot more money. I’d be happy to—”
She stands so fast the chair slides out and hits the wall. “No, no. This should be fine. I think… yeah, this will work.” Her fingers tremble as she reaches for the doorknob, which strikes me as odd. It’s like she’s fearful, but she shouldn’t be, which is yet another thing that makes me suspicious of her. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
I lean back and watch her walk out, then tilt my head up and look at one of the monitors as she exits the building. It takes me about two more seconds to come to the conclusion I’ve been debating on since I got the file, and I push up from the chair and head out of the room.
“Dude. Was that Roxy Rivers?” Landon asks as I pass his office. Seeing as how he’s across from the conference room, it wasn’t lost on me that his eyes were glued to her tits when she rushed out.
“Yeah.”
His eyebrows shoot to his forehead. “No shit?”
“She’s a client, dipshit, so close your mouth and wipe up the fuckin’ drool.”
“Come on.” He holds his arms out wide. “Roxy fuckin’ Rivers. Queen of—”
“I know what she’s queen of, but, brother, in this building, she’s a client, and we treat her as such. Knock that shit off.” I take a step away from his office door to head down the hall but then pause and turn back around, his attention still on me. Even though he’s irritated with my response, he wisely doesn’t argue. “I get it, who she is that you’d have that damn smirk on your face, but putting any kind of emotion other than professional toward a client clouds your judgment. ’Cause even women like Roxy Rivers can lie, and if you’re too busy picturing her naked in your head, you can miss the tells on her face.”
I have his attention now. He drops his feet off his desk and sits straight. “What’s up?”
“Not sure. But I’m gonna find out.” I leave him with that and go to Erik’s office, knocking on the already open door. He and Royce appear to be casually talking, but stop and look over at me. “You got a minute?” I ask neither one in particular, glad they’re both present.
“Of course, what’s up?” Erik asks.
Royce jerks his head toward the door. “You need me to step out?”
“Nah, it’s actually good you’re here.”
“Oh fuck,” he mutters.
“Yeah.” I huff. “I just got done doing a briefing, and I mean super brief briefing with Roxy Rivers.” Erik and Royce, along with Royce’s father, Mitch, are the three guys who run the show here, so they know everything that goes on, which means I don’t need to explain anything else to them.
“How’d that go?”
I lean on his wall and shake my head at Erik. “Fine. She was clearly tweaked, no amount of makeup can cover that, which is a damn shame because she used to be a fuckin’ knockout. I gave her the information she paid u
s to find—”
“Her daughter’s location, correct?” Royce confirms.
“Yeah, but when anything hits my desk, you know I dig deeper than I need to.”
“’Cause that’s where the dirt is.” Erik sighs. “What’d you find?”
I cross my arms. “Nothing.”
His head tilts. “Come again?”
“I know. I found nothing, and that’s what’s buggin’ me. This girl, Madeline, her daughter, totally normal. Late twenties, first grade teacher with a teacher’s salary, nice apartment, minimal debt, single, pays her taxes on time. There was nothing to raise any suspicion about her.”
“So what’s the problem? Her mom got her location, case closed.”
My chin dips down so I can address Royce. “There’s a reason a child moves out before she’s eighteen and busts her ass to live on her own even though she has four walls and a bed rent free at said home. There’s also a reason that child becomes an adult who changes her last name and purposely tries to cover her tracks so her mom can’t find her.”
I hear Erik’s sharp intake of breath and drop my arms. “I don’t know what or who or why or if it’s anything, but the deeper I dug into Roxy, the more my radar went off. Why after over ten years does she suddenly have an interest in finding her?”
“Got her life straightened out finally?” Royce suggests with hope even though we both know it’s not true.
“No. She’s practically penniless, obviously tweaked. She was shaking, and it wasn’t because of withdrawals. There’s something else going on, but I just can’t pinpoint what it is. I just know that woman’s life is a train wreck.” And just from the little recon I did, all signs point to that train crashing, but it’s not going to get anywhere near Madeline. “I don’t know what her plan is, but I’m gonna find out because there is no way in fuck that I’m gonna be responsible for her daughter getting hurt since I was the one who brought Roxy to her.”
“Shit.” Erik sighs and scrubs his hands down his face. “What do you need from me?”
“Time.”
“You got it. What else? Where’s your head at with this? What’s your gut telling you?”
“Somethin’ shady as fuck. Madeline’s free and clear of her mom and all the filth that surrounds her, and she has been for years. I’m not gonna speculate yet ’cause if what I’m thinking is right, I’ll lose my shit before I can get the proof I need to bring those motherfuckers down.”
Royce laughs. “Motherfuckers.”
Erik ignores him. “Do what you gotta do. Keep us posted and let us know what you need.”
“The only thing I need right now is to keep this girl safe.”
Chapter 1
Q
Two days later
The first time I saw Madeline in person was through a set of binoculars a couple of weeks ago. I actually pulled the set from my face and wiped off the lenses because I wanted to be sure I was seeing clearly. Throughout the weeks, I watched her every day from afar. Then last night, I finally saw her while we were breathing the same air, and it was the first time I was able to look at her up close with my own eyes.
It was at a bar, and it was so cliché, but I needed it to be. I wanted her attention, and I knew exactly how to get it. I’d been getting stolen glances and shy smiles from her for hours at that point. When I’d meet her gaze, her cheeks would turn pink, and she’d look away.
Perfect, I thought. It was definitely time to make my move before it was too late, and I lost my chance with her.
She was giggling at a table with her friends, tipsy and on the verge of drunk if her three lemon drops and two strawberry margaritas from the past two hours were any indication. Normally, she only had a glass or two of wine if she went out, but it had been a tough week for her.
While she and her friends were waiting for a table, I leaned against the bar and overheard her telling them about how a kid in her class had puked on her feet the day before and that she’d had a dead battery in her car earlier in the week. And to top everything off, she was pretty sure she was getting sick because her nose was all stuffy.
She didn’t look sick, though. Her reddish-purple hair was down in long waves around her face, heavy makeup, pink lips, black tank, skintight white jeans, turquoise stilettos. She was hot. Beautiful. She would have been even prettier with all that shit off her face, but that had nothing to do with why I was there.
No. I was there to do a job. One I didn’t intend to start, but one that I would most definitely finish.
When it was finally time to make my move, I made my way to her, stopped at the table, and waited for her to look up at me. I knew she knew I was standing there because she stopped breathing. She also lifted her thumb to her mouth and nibbled on her nail.
Just as I knew she would.
But when she tilted her head up and saw me only inches away, her mouth fell open, her hand fell away, and the flush spread from her cheeks, down her bare neck that I had the sudden desire to lick the sheen of sweat off, and disappeared beneath her tight tank top.
I dropped my chin, raised a brow, and waited.
“Hi,” she finally breathed.
“Hi,” I replied just as quiet. “You wanna get outta here?”
“Yes,” she answered immediately. No hesitation and no question.
Perfect. She was too easy.
Textbook.
A single woman who pretended to be strong and independent with a secret desire to give control over to a man who could take care of her in all the ways she needed. But she would never admit that out loud. Or hell, probably even to herself.
I held out my hand, and the moment her dainty fingers wrapped around mine, her friend Sadie called her name, chastising her. I barely heard her warning, though, because there was an unexpected roaring in my ears from the intensity of Maddy’s skin against mine. My fingers flexed, and my eyes flashed, but it was too dark for her to notice the momentary misstep on my part.
“Maddy.”
“I’m fine.” Madeline slid out of the booth with my help, but she wasn’t alone.
Her friend did, too, and grabbed her other hand sharply. I narrowed my eyes at her. “You don’t even know his name. What are you thinking?”
“I’m Q.” I needed to get Madeline out of there and alone before she changed her mind. This was my one opening, and if I lost it, she could be in danger, and there was no way I could allow that.
Madeline turned her attention back to me, and I stood there, tall and confident, as she assessed me from head to boot and then back up again. Her teeth sank into her lip, and she slowly released it before her tongue darted out and slid along the same place. “I’m good, Sadie.”
“Maddy.” Sadie tugged on her arm in disbelief, but Madeline pulled it away and leaned into me.
Her head tilted up as mine did the opposite, and with her heels giving her an extra few inches, our faces were only a breath apart. “I’m ready.”
Damn. Even more beautiful up close.
Nodding, I wrapped my arm around her slender waist, creating a path to the door for her in the crowded bar, and led her out and straight to my sleek black Aston Martin. She almost tripped a couple of times, and I used that as justification for holding her tighter even though the grip I had on her ensured that she’d never fall. “What’s your address, babe?” I felt the need to ask even though I already knew it. I doubted she was going to remember much of that night, but in case she did, I had to cover all my bases.
She giggled as she fell into the leather seat, a little more drunk than I originally thought, and I shut the door and jogged around to my side. After I started the car, I asked again. “Madeline, address.”
Her head rested on the window. “Nobody else calls me Madeline.” She giggled. “Only you.” Then she closed her eyes. “735 Carson. I’m in 202.”
“Okay.” I took her hand, and she sighed as I ran my thumb back and forth over the smooth skin on top, because I needed her to think I was that guy. The one who holds hands.
The man who worships the ground she walks on. But also the guy who challenges her, which I would do in the morning.
The ride was silent, and by the time I pulled up to her building, she was passed out with her head resting on my shoulder. Again, as I expected and had honestly hoped for. Her purse was tucked between her bicep and the side of her chest, where I plucked it from. I dug through it to fish out her keys, and then I cautiously placed her head against the back of the seat.
Shutting the engine off, I stepped foot outside my car and then glanced around for anything or anyone suspicious. Once I was convinced there was no imminent danger, I went to her, lifting her gently and cradling her limp frame in my arms as I walked to her apartment. After I let us in, I carried her to her bed and set her on top of her white comforter, and did a shitty job of telling myself that I didn’t want to crawl in beside her. She rolled to her side and made a cute little squeak that I had to fight not to smile at. I took off her shoes and grabbed the blanket from the end of her bed and then tossed it over her jeans-covered legs.
Too easy.
She’s too predictable and too damn naïve. Something I’ll need to break her of in the short time I’ll be with her. When I got back to the living room, I walked around and made sure all her windows were locked and double-checked that the deadbolt was engaged. Then I grabbed a beer from her fridge and sat on her couch. It took me about ten minutes to finish it, but after that, I barely slept.
I’ve now spent the past six hours replaying last night in my head and second-guessing if approaching her that way was the right thing to do. I didn’t have as much time as I would have liked before getting this close, but because I still don’t know what the hell her mom is up to, I don’t have a minute to lose. My time to question it, though, has ended because she’s awake now. The sun has barely risen, but I hear her stirring in her bedroom. “Shit.” She curses. “Damn, crap.”