She clicked the attachment and waited for it to download on her phone. Seconds later, Connor Blake stared back at her from the screen in full dress blues and cap. She zoomed in on the patch on his shoulder. Nashville PD.
A fucking cop.
Blinking at the picture, she dropped the phone. Her fingers flew across her keyboard, typing Connor's name and Nashville into the search engine. Group shots of whole departments came up. She zoomed in and searched the faces until she landed on his.
She searched on, adding the dates, trying to pinpoint the moment he left the Army. Around three years before. More searching led to a dead end.
Why would a cop leave the force to take up residence as a criminal's bodyguard? She glanced around the office, making sure no one noticed her before pulling out the code she'd copied from Jacob's desk and logged into the criminal database. If he'd been fired, she'd have found it in the search. Maybe he'd done something worthy of an arrest. Nothing.
As far as the internet was concerned, Connor Blake existed in face alone.
Her phone buzzed again.
A full-body shiver shook her before she reached for the screen and stalled before tapping it. The hairs on her neck stood. How was this person finding out information she wasn't able to dig up with all of her resources.
Sucking in a deep breath, she tapped the screen. The picture was dark and out of focus. She zoomed in on one lighted area until she made out two forms and a windowpane line.
Her next breath stuck in her throat, and she dropped the phone like a hot coal burning her hand.
If she hadn't been there herself, she might not have been able to make out her frame facing Connor's in the window. But she had been there. Last night. In the house with the blacked-out windows in the middle of nowhere.
How had anyone found them, and snapped a picture without Connor noticing? How had they gotten the perfect angle to see through the blacked-out windows? Her hand flew to her mouth.
They knew the house. They had to know where they could snap a picture. And they'd been there last night, waiting in the woods, watching their intimate moment. Watching her give herself to Connor. Her skin prickled.
She almost missed the final ding of her phone, but the red blinking message light caught her attention. Another picture. Would they have found them in the middle of the most intimate moment of her life? Caught her giving herself over to a man she barely knew?
Shaking, she reached for the phone, turned it over to face the screen.
He'll meet us at 10. I'll pick you up.
The breath she'd been holding released in a rush, and she sank into her chair.
She typed out a message back to Connor that she'd be ready before she dropped the phone to her desk and her head to her hands.
"I want to see that girl again. "Henry Forge sat behind his desk with his fingers steepled, staring at Connor as if he could see Claire's essence clinging to him from the night before.
"I've done my research. I don't think Claire would be good for your reputation, sir." Connor forced his voice to stay calm while envisioning Henry, with his meaty hands wrapped around Claire's throat.
"I didn't ask for your judgment, boy. I told you I wanted to see her again. if you aren't willing to do the tasks I give you, I'll have Danny look her up."
The hairs on Connor's neck stood to attention, and he gritted his teeth to keep his emotions in check. Hell would freeze over before he allowed Danny another second with Claire. He'd blow his cover and kill the guy if he had to.
"If you truly want a meeting with her, I can arrange something privately," Connor suggested while formulating a plan in his head to keep Claire safe and allow her to speak with Henry she needed. With enough information at her disposal, she would stop pursuing the dangerous man and allow Connor to focus on his undercover work instead of keeping her out of trouble.
"What exactly did you have in mind?" Forge asked.
"A private lunch at your estate," Connor said. "I could pick her up in a vehicle and bring her in so no one would see her come or see her go. The boys and I would be here to keep an eye on her if things get out of hand."
Henry laughed and dropped his hands to his desk. "I'm not sure what kind of trouble you think a girl like that could get into over lunch, but the idea of needing protection from her excites me."
Connor's stomach tightened. He fisted one hand behind his back. The image of Henry, even thinking of touching Claire, made him want to pounce like a rabid panther straight for Henry's jugular. Instead, he forced a smile and a nod and ensured Henry he would make the lunch happen.
"Let's do it today. See if she can meet me in an hour?"
Connor narrowed his gaze. "Are you sure? That gives me very little time to run a security check." Or to prepare Claire for how best to handle asking questions without giving away her true intentions.
Forge leaned over his desk, his brows knitted together and his jaw set. "I've never been more sure."
Connor took the strained expression as his cue to nod and leave, afraid if he pushed much harder Forge would return to his plan of letting Danny take the lead on Claire.
Once free from Henry's office, Connor checked his phone and then sent a text to Claire with the information for lunch. He included a note that he would be picking her up and would be with her the entire time, to wear something feminine but not sexy, and to leave her identification at home.
Claire responded with a smiling Emoji. Perplexed Connor didn't know how to interpret that response other than it wasn't as serious as he hoped she would be about meeting a man who, at the snap of his fingers, could have her murdered.
Following protocol, he also texted Detective Kilpatrick of the plan, leaving Claire's name out of it for an added layer of protection for her. Then, he deleted the text as soon as he sent it for security reasons. Kilpatric would have to meet with the informant alone.
At least if things went south, he only had to get Claire clear of the house before Kilpatrick and his crew would take over. The thought sent him flashing back to Baghdad and the cement- walled building he'd been held in. They all believed they could overpower the guards and free themselves. Help had to be waiting in the surrounding hills.
The buzz of his phone pulled him from the thought. He checked his messages and found one from Claire asking for her pick-up time followed by another smiley face.
Connor sucked in a breath and hit the phone icon on the message. As it rang, he stepped outside and into his SUV. Claire answered as soon as he got the door shut.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous this idea is?" he growled into the phone.
Silence followed before Claire's sweet voice answered. "Connor, it's only lunch. You said you'll be there. I trust you."
She trusted him too much for his taste.
"Did you get my message about your IDs? Leave them all at home. Your cell also to be on the safe side."
Claire chuckled in the background. "I'm not a dope, Connor. Or maybe you'd rather I send you a picture of what I'm wearing just to be on the safe side?"
Connor hesitated. It wasn't a bad idea.
"You're actually thinking about it, aren't you?" Claire spoke up. "Damn it, do you really think I don't know what I'm getting into?"
Connor smoothed a hand over his face before answering. "When you've seen what I've seen, you assume nothing. I just want you as protected as possible from every angle. I don't know what Forge's end game is with you." And not knowing meant he had no way to prepare, which made him feel as useless as a precision rifle with no ammo.
"I'll be on my best behavior. I'll follow every command you give, and I won't press Forge if he gets suspicious. I've done this kind of investigative reporting before if that makes you feel any better."
"It doesn't." Though he wished it did.
His phone dinged, and he pulled it from his ear to find a picture of Claire. Her hair was down and curled around her face. A tight blue sweater covered every inch of skin along her upper body, but the fit gave the al
lusion of showing much more. The bottoms of her sculpted thighs peeked out from under a brown leather skirt before they disappeared under knee-high brown boots.
His inseam dug into his cock. If that was Claire's idea of not dressing sexy, he'd need a moment alone to rub out the erection an honest attempt would bring on.
"I'm going to do some research while I wait. Come in the front when you get here."
Without waiting for his answer, Claire disconnected the call, leaving him drowning in the curves from under her sweater.
He was going to have one hell of a time keeping Forge off her. Hell, he was going to have a hell of a time keeping off of her. He'd have scolded her, telling her to change, or he would refuse to pick her up, but he doubted it would do much good.
Forge had seen in her what he'd missed. It didn't matter what she wore, Claire Wilson would look sexy as hell in baggy sweats and a top knot, and that was going to get him in so much trouble down the road.
Claire bounced between checking her front window and researching the names of known accomplices to Forge. She figured she'd have the opportunity to drop one name and read his reaction, but two would be pushing her luck. She faltered between asking him his plans to combat the cartel using Rebel as a path for running drugs north or bringing up the campaign manager from two years ago who was still reported missing by the West Virginia police.
Either would put her on his radar as someone who'd researched his campaign.
If she dropped a name just right, she could seem like an average citizen who'd heard rumors in town. And she wouldn't push the subject past a simple mention of the story and a basic question. But his reaction to being pushed on either issue would tell everything about his involvement.
Of course, she'd have to time the conversation skillfully, knowing Connor would stay in earshot. Given how wound up he'd been on the phone and ready to yank her out of there the second he sensed trouble, she'd need to time her skilled attack near the end of the visit or find a way to be alone with her Forge without Connor breathing down her neck.
The knock-on her door startled her from the thought. She'd been so engrossed in her search that she'd forgotten to check the window when the neighborhood dog pack sounded the alarm for visitors. A quick glance had Connor's SUV parked out front, and as expected, his brooding face met her as she opened the door.
"You don't keep your door locked," he growled, stepping into her apartment without an invitation.
Surprised, she almost asked how he'd known when she remembered who she was talking to. Connor was so observant he could probably tell her the number of rhinestones on her tear-drop earrings. "Rebel isn't a lock-you-front-door kind of town, but if it makes you feel better, I kept the latch off because I was expecting you."
Connor circled her small living area and eyed the bed in the corner before his gaze landed hard on her again. His eyes skimmed over her body so intently she felt his stare like fingers on her skin.
She swallowed the rush of emotion that followed, then remembered the names and pictures she had on her computer screen. She made her way over to her desk, holding her body between Connor and the screen until she could minimize the page. That movement brought her to his side, where heat radiated off of him in waves strong enough to set her cheeks ablaze.
The familiar pull between her belly and the nub between her legs tightened, and she had to squeeze her thighs to keep from drowning in it.
"You've left everything that could identify you here?" he questioned, his tone turning matter-a fact even if his eyes were still fucking her.
"I don't even have pockets." She lifted her arms in the air and twirled in front of him, realizing her mistake when her eyes met his again.
She'd seen the same look in men's eyes before, and it always meant the same thing. Though, this time, with Connor, she found herself wanting it to happen. Wanting his hands on her skin, his breath across her face, his body molded to hers.
The invisible string pulled again, and she stepped away, remembering then that she'd stuffed her cell into one of her boots, turned off of course. She trusted Connor, but a girl could never put herself in a completely helpless situation without a little back up of her own.
Connor caught her arms with his hands before running his palms down from her wrists to the tops of her shoulders. If his closeness hadn't already had her insides purring like a well-stroked kitten, his touch finished the job.
"Henry Forge isn't a man to play with." His gaze penetrated into her as if boring the words into her brain. "You can't play games with him. Answer his questions. Participate in normal conversation. The second he gives us an out, you say your goodbyes, and we get the hell out of there."
"Sure," she answered, enjoying the wrinkle that formed between Connor's brows when she smiled. "In and out. But don't rush me if he's feeling chatty. He might drop something useful. If we play this right, he could be behind bars by morning light."
The way Connor's eyes narrowed hinted he hadn't been on the same train of thought. "The only thing I care about happening tomorrow is you waking up safe in your bed with thoughts of Henry long behind you."
"My bed?" She knew it was dangerous to play games with him so riled up and oozing primal defense over her, but she couldn't help taking the shot. With him close enough to see the short stubble that had grown on his face since yesterday morning, she couldn't put her finger on why, but she wanted to see him sweat.
Connor slid his hands down her arms again. "Your bed." His palms ran the length of her sides and down to her hips.
She'd just about asked what the hell he thought he was doing when his hand slid into the tops of her boots, and the rectangular shape of her phone pressed into her calf.
Claire didn't dare look down. The heat of his stare was already burning her without giving it the attention she knew he wanted.
Connor slid the zipper of her boot down and pulled the cell out, standing to bring it into her line of sight. "You left everything that could identify you here?"
She shrugged. She felt the scold in his voice, and her cheeks blushed heat.
"I'm not going in there with nothing for protection." She glared in his eyes, daring him to correct her.
Connor smiled, though his mouth held little humor. "I'm your protection. Believe me. I'm all that you need."
As if on cue, the invisible string snapped, and her sex pulsated between her thighs no matter how hard she pressed them together. When Connor leaned in to drop her phone on the side table, his chin brushed her cheek, and she slammed her eyes shut from the sensation. Holy crap! How could the man infuriate her one second and have her almost soaking her panties the next?
She had to get a grip on her overactive libido. She needed all of her concentration on Henry for the next few hours, and panting over every touch, smell, or hard look from Connor wasn't going to help her focus.
8
Why she had to be so hard-headed, Connor couldn’t be sure. The one thing he was sure of was that his stomach wasn’t going to stop twisting into knots until he had this lunch over with, and Claire Wilson was safe at home again. Then he could work on getting her to stay away from trouble.
From the second he’d found her front door unlocked until the second she flashed a bit too much upper thigh getting into his passenger side seat, he fought the urge to lock the SUV’s doors and drive her back to the safe house. There, he had the equipment needed to lock her in if she didn’t want to cooperate.
He’d have done it all too, he thought, gripping the steering wheel hard enough to make his knuckles turn white if it wasn’t for the attraction to the information Claire might be able to glean from Henry. Names that could put him and the rest of his ring away for good.
At what cost? The thought ping-ponged around in his brain the entire nearly silent drive to Forge’s estate. If shit got real, would he be able to save her without blowing six months of work? If it were up to him, that was an easy hell, yes, but it wasn’t his investigation to blow.
Connor p
ulled in the back driveway and maneuvered up the narrow drive to the service door. He glanced at Claire. “Last chance to back out. I could have you home in no time.”
“No chance. And you’re making me nervous with all your doom and gloom talk. Just let me out here, and I’ll walk around to the front.”
Before he could protest and offer to drive her, Claire had the driver’s side door open and was marching along the grass to the sidewalk. It hadn’t been that long ago that Connor had kicked her out of Forge’s house in the very spot she stood in now.
Connor parked and left the car, wondering how he hadn’t scared the shit out of Claire. Why he’d backed down and gone soft on her instead.
He shook his head to himself. His dick had caused this whole issue. If he had been thinking with his head, he’d have put the fear of God into Claire the night he thought she was trying to get into Forge’s pants. But he’d been too taken with her to bring out his inner beast.
“Connor,” the guard at the front greeted him as he followed Claire up the steps. When she rang the doorbell like a proper guest, he held a dry laugh in his throat.
Danny opened the door.
Connor’s first instinct was to push Claire to the side and shield her from whatever course language Danny thought to throw at her from the other night, but he only stepped closer to her as if giving Danny the hands-off signal.
“Ms. Wilson. Mr. Forge has been expecting you. He will meet you in the front room as soon as he finishes some business.”
Connor almost lost it at Danny’s attempt to speak formally. He came off as a Cornwall Brit mixed with the guy from the travel Australia commercials. To keep the peace, he bit the inside of his cheek and managed to walk past Danny without comment.
“You are crowding me.” Claire stopped dead in the middle of the front room and turned to face him. “Can you not blend into the background of whatever it is bodyguards do?”
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