Gabriel (Guardian Defenders Book 1)

by Kris Michaels

  With a groan, she pulled herself from the bed, padded into the bathroom and stumbled into the shower. It took fifteen minutes to wash and blow-dry her hair, and get ready for work. She wandered into the living room and trailed her fingertips across the back of the couch as she ambled into the kitchen. She wasn’t expected in the apartment upstairs until eight. It was just six-thirty now. The commute took three minutes, so… coffee.

  The new, drip-brew coffee maker gurgled happily after she’d hunted down and filled a white paper filter with coffee. She pulled open the refrigerator door and shook her head. So much food. She bolted upright. Chicken and dumplings. With a snap of her fingers, she slammed the fridge door closed as she pulled the upper freezer section open. Wow, whoever did the grocery stack and jack was anal. The chicken was in one pile, the beef in another, then pork and finally fish. Well defined pillars of protein. She pulled out a package that contained a whole chicken, cut into pieces and dropped it into the sink to defrost. She’d make time to pop down during the day and return it to the refrigerator so it wouldn’t get too warm. Dumplings… she fanned through the cupboards. There. Flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, but did they buy… Anna shuffled through the cabinets. Nope. No shortening. Lard would be better, but getting lard at a big chain store was next to impossible. She gazed toward the ceiling and thought of the apartment above her. Deacon’s pantry was the size of her local market. Maybe he’d have some she could borrow, permanently. If not, she could try butter, but the dumplings were so much better with lard.

  A smile crept across her face. Maybe she could bribe Graham St. James into procuring her some of the not-so-common ingredients she wanted. Totally, because when a guy is away from his wife, a home-cooked meal would be a premium, right? She glanced around her. If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, she was armed to the teeth, and brother, she could bake like nobody’s business. She nodded as she once again stared at the baking supplies she had at her disposal. This, plus what was in Deacon and Jackie’s apartment, meant she had the means to melt the cold exterior of every man who worked for Gabriel. Even Mr. Clean. A sneer crossed her face before she snorted and went in search of coffee cups. No, Anna, poisoning Mr. Clean is bad.

  Feeding the rest of Gabriel's men was a fantastic idea. She’d never have to show an ID again. The coffee pot gurgled out its last steamy gasp as she poured herself a cup of coffee. A soft crunch and shift of sugar granules against her spoon was the only sound in the kitchen as she followed the dots her mind kept connecting. Keeping Gabriel’s men happy and on her good side was a smart idea. Keeping Gabriel's attention when he wasn’t working? A better one. She pulled out the creamer from the fridge and a slab of bacon. It was time to let the big bad security men in this building know she was here.

  Craig took the folder from him and shuffled through the paper. “That went to shit faster than anticipated.”

  Gabriel pushed the elevator call button. “It was a good thing we had assets we could re-route. The area is unstable. We need to finish operations, as quietly and as quickly as possible, and get our people the hell out. We were lucky this time. I won’t lose someone to Gaddafi’s madness.”

  “What about the Mossad op?”

  “We’ll handle that. Delacroix and Olsen are supposed to check in at ten. When they do, tell both of them I want to see them here at noon. I’ll want you in on that conversation. Set it up for my office.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m not sure. A gut feeling we are missing something.”

  “I thought you were working with the FBI gathering intel on this sicko.”

  “We are, but that is history. This is now. Now, he is in New Orleans. He knows Jackie is here. We need to focus here now. Work the streets, discover what the locals know and see. We have a composite photo from six years ago. The FBI has access to forensic artists. We can age the guy, update with different haircuts, mustache even a beard, so we have different possibilities.” The door to the elevator opened, and they both walked in.

  Gabriel hit the button that would take them to the sixteenth floor. A shower and change of clothes needed to happen. Sleep was off the books. It wasn’t like this would be the first time he’d gone longer than twenty-four hours without it.

  “Sounds a hell of a lot like a police investigation to me. That is not what our business does.”

  Slowly, Gabriel turned his head toward his friend. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  Craig was still looking at the papers. He flicked Gabriel an irritated look. “Sounds a hell of a lot like a police investigation to me.”

  Gabriel made a point of lifting a single brow and staring at the man next to him.

  Craig drew a breath and lowered the folder. “You heard me.”

  “I did.” Gabriel nodded once, holding Craig’s stare.

  “I’ve helped you build this business from the ground up. This is not what we do. This is treading in law enforcement's arena. Do you really want to sink the time and effort into developing a domestic operations branch?”

  “You have been with me from the beginning, but I've told you all along, this business is evolving, and I have always thought Guardian should be bigger than just the overseas operations. I will take Guardian in any direction I deem appropriate.”

  “And for the life of me, I cannot see why you think doing the FBI or a local PD’s job is something that will benefit what you’ve already built.” Craig leaned back against the wall of the elevator, and they both watched the door close.

  “I’ve explained my vision for Guardian.” And he didn’t feel like going into it again.

  “Who is going to run it? Can you answer that? You have more than enough to handle with the overseas operations. Plus, I know you’re looking at working with the Council. That shit is black door operations, and I’m telling you, if you start recruiting people capable of doing what the Council is rumored to be working? You’re asking for trouble.”

  “First, those types of people are dedicated, extremely skilled, capable of compartmentalizing, and would be under direct, professional, mental health guidance. The shrinks would be the ones to say if they were able to go on missions or not.” Opportunities to make a direct impact to legally eliminate the monsters that held the world hostage came once in a lifetime. He wasn’t one to pass up the brass ring.

  Craig made a disgruntled sound. “So, you have thought about it. Hell, it sounds like you’ve already laid the groundwork.”

  The elevator slowed. “You'd be surprised at what I've been doing. Set up that meeting with Delacroix and the FBI agents Harvey and Olsen. I’ll see you in an hour or so.” He shut the door on any more comments Craig might have about the direction he was taking his company. His plans may be grandiose, but with his family money backing him, success was guaranteed. The expansion money wasn’t a concern, however, the reputation of his company was. Guardian Security and yes, the new branches he was setting up, would function as bastions of integrity. He’d cull his personnel to ensure only the most dedicated people worked for him. It was a hallmark decision and one he wouldn’t compromise.

  As they walked down the hall, he took a deep breath of an amazing aroma. “Oh, damn.”

  “Who the fuck is cooking bacon?” Craig inhaled and groaned. “Fuck, I just realized I’m starving.”

  “Working all night will do that.” He reached in his pocket for his apartment key.

  “Shit.” Craig stopped in front of his door and looked across the hall at Anna’s door. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

  “It isn’t me, and it isn’t you, and the deliciousness is stronger here, so it would appear she is cooking. Want me to ask if she has room at her table for you?”

  “Is hell freezing over?” Craig inserted his key, walked in his apartment, and shut the door. With emphasis.

  What was it with this animosity toward Anna? Craig had always been a pain in the ass, but he’d also managed to be civil to people. Within the last few years, the man had become increasin
gly aggravating and pointedly misogynistic.

  Sliding his key into the lock, he twisted it and entered the sparsely appointed apartment. The standard white walls held a couple of Monet prints. Beige furniture blended with the darker beige shag carpet. Light oak cabinets in the small kitchen duplicated those of the apartment next door, but somehow, the apartment Anna occupied seemed warmer, more alive. Perhaps that had everything to do with the occupant and nothing to do with the decor.

  The scent of bacon was stronger in his apartment than in the hall. He glanced at his Rolex. Six forty. His new neighbor was obviously an early riser. He tossed his keys onto the small dining room table on his way to the connecting door. He tapped on it and leaned against the jamb. He wasn’t above mooching breakfast, especially when it smelled so damn good.

  The door opened to her smile and big brown eyes, killer eyes that revealed every emotion that flitted through her mind. She wore yellow scrubs today. The soft color was perfect for her dark hair and yeah, those eyes. His gaze meandered up and down her body while remembering how good she felt pressed against him last night.

  “Good morning.” She blinked at him and stepped back, making a production of motioning to his clothes. He'd bet anything the cool emotion her eyes displayed was wariness. “Ummm... you're wearing the same clothes as you left in? Are you doing the walk of shame?”

  Oh, well, that explained the distance. He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. “Ah, that would be a huge negative. I’ve been working since I left you last night.”

  She moved away from him, distancing herself physically this time. “Working? Like, as in all night? What is so important that it couldn’t wait until today?”

  Men’s lives. “Oh, you know, powerful people pay to have my undivided attention.”

  Anna stepped back and motioned him into the apartment as she jogged back to the kitchen. He found her there turning bacon with a pair of tongs. “They better pay damn good. Oh! How many men do you have working for you?”

  Gabriel blinked back his surprise. Not the line of conversation he was expecting. “Total? The last briefing I received, Guardian had one hundred and twenty-three people on the payroll.”

  Anna jerked her head his direction for a quick second. “Ah, no... here, how many men do you have in the building. You know, the elevator check guys and the men at that front desk two floors below Deacon and Jackie?”

  A quick math equation. “Currently, there should be twelve.” He walked up behind her and grabbed a slice of bacon off a paper towel where it was draining.

  “Casserole it is.” She wiped her hands and handed him the set of tongs she had in her hand.

  “I’m sorry; I’m not following.” His glance flowed from the tongs, to the bacon in the frying pan, to her.

  She opened the fridge and bent in half as she looked at the contents. She straightened with two cartons of eggs. “I was wondering if I should do breakfast sandwiches or a casserole to take up with me when I went to work. I’ll do a casserole and ask Graham to get me some ingredients so I can do breakfast tacos tomorrow. Biscuits and gravy the next day.” She pulled down a bowl and pointed to the frying pan. “Turn that before it burns. I know you can cook, you made me steak last night.”

  Gabriel frowned at the stove but did as she ordered. “Anna, you don’t need to feed my people.”

  She glanced at him and smiled, but her expression contained caution. “I know I don’t have to, but wouldn’t you appreciate some home-cooked food if you were in their shoes?”

  Gabriel turned the last piece of bacon over and adjusted the flame on the stove lower. “Yes, but—”

  “Nope, no buts about it. I'm cooking breakfast. Do you want coffee? It's fresh.” She moved away, putting the kitchen island between them. He watched her as she darted around the kitchen. Now, potato peeler in hand, small pieces of brown skin flew off Idaho's best with lightning-quick speed.

  “Anna.”

  She glanced at him quickly and made a humming noise as she peeled a potato.

  “Anna.”

  She stopped her movements and gave him her attention.

  “Come here, please.”

  Her brow furrowed as her gaze moved to the frying pan. “Is there a problem with the bacon?” The potatoes landed on the counter, and she sped across the kitchen to the stove.

  She had the bacon out of the pan and was making a move to grab the remainder of the uncooked bacon when he placed his hand on her arm. “Anna.”

  She glanced back at him. “That's my name, Tiger. Don't wear it out.”

  “Then stop what you're doing.”

  She glanced from him to the frying pan. Gabriel reached around her and turned off the burner.

  “Hey! This has to cook for at least forty-five minutes to get the eggs to set.”

  “There's time.” Gabriel grabbed her by the hand and pulled her toward him.

  Anna's eyebrows lifted and a smile formed on her full lips. He really liked that smile. It was open, friendly, and more than a little sexy.

  “Time for what?” She cocked her head as she asked.

  “For this.” He ran his hand up her arm and she shivered under his touch. Cupping her neck, he pulled her in and lowered for a kiss. Her soft breasts molded against him. She didn’t press closer and neither did he. The feel of her willing body in his arms wasn’t enough and at the same time, too damn much. His free hand found her hip, slid to the small of her back and tucked her tighter against him. He opened her mouth with his tongue and took his time exploring. Coffee mixed with the mint of toothpaste and the enticing flavor of Anna Harriger.

  He could have amped up the kiss, pressed harder, longer, and pushed the kiss into a sexual situation, but that wasn't what this kiss was about. This kiss answered the caution he'd seen in her eyes. This kiss responded to the surprise and concern she must have after he left her alone last night. He kissed her with pent up desire and want, qualifying what they’d done last night.

  He pulled away and smiled down at her.

  Her lips, puffy and wet, parted as her eyelids fluttered open.

  “Good Morning. I'm sorry I was called away last night.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Definitely.” He dipped down for another quick kiss.

  “You're going to come over for chicken and dumplings tonight?”

  “It’s my first lesson in fun, right?”

  “Fun? Oh, yeah, absolutely.” She smiled up at him. “We can have a lot of fun if you don't get called out by Mr. Clean again.”

  Gabriel tipped his head back and laughed. Craig was the spitting image of Mr. Clean. “How did you know it was Craig?”

  “Hey, I have a peephole on my door.” She shrugged her shoulder, but her cheeks flushed pink. “I'm sorry you had to work all night.” She dropped her eyes to his chest as she spoke.

  “It happens frequently, especially when our people are overseas.” He lifted his hand and tucked a finger under her chin. “Are you okay with this?”

  Her brow scrunched. “This?”

  Gabriel chuckled. “Us, me, you.”

  “Oh. That this.” She swallowed hard and then laughed. “Ummm... yeah?”

  “Was that a question?”

  “Maybe?”

  “What are you concerned about?”

  “Oh boy, where do I start?” She blew out a long breath and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “At the beginning. Seems logical, true?” Gabriel wrapped his arms around her waist. He liked the way she fit against him, but he also liked the way he never knew what was going to come out of her mouth. He'd yet to have a predictable conversation with her, which was why he'd broached the subject of what they were doing, or about to do, now. Her brain did not function the way his did, and he needed to make sure they were on the same page.

  “Okay. So, like… damn.” She huffed and shook her head

  “Damn?” Gabriel stiffened, maybe she wasn't into him? Maybe she didn't want to get to know him? Had he read her respo
nses wrong?

  Her eyes popped up to his. “No, not you damn, like damn, you know?”

  Gabriel slowly moved his head from side to side. “No, I'm afraid I don't know. I have no idea what you just said.”

  She drew a big breath and huffed it out. “Why?”

  Wow, he was seriously lost now. “Why what?”

  “Why me? Why are you interested? Why did you do… this?”

  She waved her arm, and his eyes followed the movement. Ah, the flowers. “My mother liked fresh flowers in the house. She said it was soothing. You had a rough day yesterday. I was just trying to help.”

  “But why?” She demanded.

  “I'm sorry. I honestly don't understand what you're asking.”

  “Okay.” She pulled away and put her hands on her hips. “I'm me; you are you. Follow so far?”

  Gabriel nodded, trying not to smile at her elementary beginning.

  She started pacing, her arms flying about as she spoke to the floor because she wasn't looking at him. “Why me? Why are you paying any attention to me? I'm going back to Colorado in a couple weeks. Do you just want a romp in the sack? Or, do you want me to feed you, and you think you have to butter me up for meals? I can assure you, you don't. I like to cook, and I’m down with a romp, or not. Well, not really, because I'd prefer the romp over not romping, just in case you doubt my intentions. Wait a minute! Are you slumming? Needing to scratch an itch? Oh, shit.” She stopped dead in her tracks and lasered a glance at him. “Do you have a wife at home and need to sow some wild oats? I can tell you now if you are married, you're not coming into this apartment again. I won't be the other woman. I can't do that to someone. Won't.” Her chest heaved as she waited for him to speak.

  It took him a second to catch up with her rant. He crossed his arms and asked, “Which question do you want me to answer first?”

  “Are. You. Married?” Anna pointed at him with each word.