by Paige Tyler
If smashing his face against the floor didn’t kill him, the embarrassment damn well would.
Out of the corner of his eye, Noah saw Wes and Sam looking at him in obvious concern. A quick look Lane’s way told him that his other Teammate was equally worried.
Oh, hell. They know something is up.
“What’s wrong?” Wes whispered, looking at him in confusion.
Noah opened his mouth with every intention of lying his ass off and say nothing was wrong, but then the pain in his knee flared again and he almost fell over. Wes was immediately at his side even as Lane appeared at the other, both reaching out to keep him from going down. He quickly waved them off, darting a quick look at Chasen to see if his chief had seen. Fortunately, Chasen was too busy talking to Woods to notice.
One look at his Teammates convinced Noah there was no way they were going to let this go. He grimaced. “I think I screwed something up in my knee when I fell from the second floor. I’m hoping if I can get back to the hotel and put ice on, it’ll be okay. But if Chasen finds out, I’m toast.”
It was obvious from their expressions that his buddies thought he was being stupid. And yeah, maybe he was. But the hell he’d gone through while on limited duty over the past two months was something he never wanted to deal with again. Fortunately, Wes, Sam, and Lane seemed willing to go along with his plea for help, which was good enough for now.
Lane casually moved closer to his left, giving Noah a shoulder to lean on so he could take weight off his bum knee, while Wes and Sam moved in front of them so Chasen wouldn’t be able to see anything if he happened to look his way.
By the time everyone was done talking, Noah was wiped out. While Chasen and Woods talked endlessly, he stood there dreaming of burying his whole leg in a mountain of ice, then keeping it there until he couldn’t feel a damn thing.
Noah’s plan was to hang out until Chasen and the other people left. Then he’d hobble his ass out to one of the Land Rovers and get the hell out of there. If he was lucky, he’d have a full eight hours to nurse his knee back to health before he and his Team had to board a plane home.
Unfortunately, Chasen didn’t leave with everyone else. Instead, he leaned back against the table, casually regarding Noah and his Teammates. Noah quickly straightened up, putting a little distance between him and Lane.
“Noah, could I talk to you for a minute?” Chasen looked pointedly at the rest of the guys. “Alone.”
Crap. So much for hiding this from his chief.
When Wes, Lane, and Sam hesitated, Noah gave them a slight nod. After a moment, they walked out of the building, but not before glancing back at him nervously.
“What’s up, Chief?” Noah asked, trying to sound chill even as he did everything he could to keep weight off his left leg.
Chasen pinned him with a look that was all too knowing. “How bad is it?”
Noah’s gut clenched. “What do you mean?”
The chief frowned. “I heard the damn thud when you hit the floor from all the way across the warehouse and I’ve seen the way you’ve been babying your left leg, so stop screwing around and tell me how bad the knee is.”
Noah sighed. What was the point? It wasn’t like he’d be able to hide it from Chasen forever. “I don’t know how bad it is. That asshole I was fighting landed right on my leg. I’m worried I may have ripped my whole damn knee apart.”
Chasen let out a curse. “And you didn’t think this was something you should tell me?”
“I was worried about what headquarters would do if they found out I hurt my knee again,” Noah admitted. “The doctor was already talking about a medical discharge if it didn’t respond to limited duty and physical therapy. And that was before some dumb bastard fell on it.”
Chasen didn’t say anything, instead getting on the radio to call in the medic who’d come with them in case anyone got injured. A few minutes later, a jackass of a man with a shitty bedside manner was prodding and yanking on Noah’s leg like it was a stuffed toy he was trying to steal from the county fair.
“I’m no doctor, but I’ve seen this kind of injury a lot,” the blond man finally said. “The ACL and MCL are most likely only sprained and torn, so you can probably avoid surgery if you stay off the leg for a while.”
Dammit.
“Define a while,” Chasen said.
The medic shrugged as he glanced at the chief. “Sixty days, maybe. He’ll need physical therapy, too.”
Chasen didn’t look too happy about that, but nodded and thanked the man.
“There’s no way in hell I’m shutting it down for another two months,” Noah said as the medic headed for the door. “I laid around on my ass for eight weeks already. I can’t do that again. I’ll go crazy!”
His boss scowled. “You and I both know you didn’t rest that leg as much as you should have while you were on limited duty. I saw you running, biking, and lifting weights. I took you at your word that you were good to go and you obviously weren’t.”
Noah opened his mouth to say he was fine until that jackass fell on him, but Chasen cut him off.
“I’ll call HQ when we get to the hotel and tell them you’re going medical leave for sixty days. So, for the next two months, you’re going to sit on your couch and play video games.”
Noah ground his jaw. There was no way he could do nothing but sit around on his butt for that long.
Chasen must have expected him to argue because he held up his hand. “It’s either that or you spend the next sixty days pushing paperwork.”
Noah sighed. While the idea of sitting around doing nothing for two months scared the hell out of him, it was nothing compared to how terrified he was of becoming a desk jockey. If hanging out on his couch playing video games was what he had to do to get back on active duty, he’d handcuff himself to his frigging Xbox.
CHAPTER ONE
San Diego, California
MAYBE IT WAS just a random break-in.” Peyton Matthews eyed the recently repaired sliding glass door and the section of living room floor that had been covered with broken glass until a little while ago. “That happens, you know.”
While that might sound completely logical, one look at her best friend, Laurissa Bradley, and literary agent, Em Fuller, told Peyton that was probably wishful thinking. Both of them sat on the cushy sectional couch looking like they weren’t buying it. Peyton had expected as much from Laurissa, since her friend had been with her when they’d gotten back from the movie theater last night and discovered someone had smashed in the back door. Laurissa had been freaking out ever since.
But Em, her no-nonsense agent with her bob hairdo and oversized eyeglasses, was supposed to be the calm, reasonable one. The clear-headed person in her corner who always advised Peyton to think through every situation and never jump to conclusions. She thought for sure Em would be the first one to tell her to relax and chill out. Instead, her agent had jumped on the first flight out of San Francisco the moment Peyton told her that someone had broken into her house. Em had landed in San Diego earlier that morning.
“Right,” Em said, sharing a look with Laurissa. “Someone went to all the trouble to break in and the only things they took were your desktop computer and laptop? They left behind the TV, didn’t ransack your closets and drawers looking for valuables or touch your jewelry armoire? I don’t think so. They wanted your book, and we all know it.”
Peyton flopped down on the other end of the sectional and blew out a breath. She’d been hoping against hope there was another answer here, but she knew Em was right. Someone had been trying to steal her manuscript, plain and simple.
“Is it really any surprise?” Laurissa asked, blue eyes knowing. “Your book releases in a few days and people are going crazy to get their hands on it. Whoever broke in probably thought they could get an advance copy if they grabbed your computers.”
Peyton considered that. The next book in her young adult series was coming out soon and the anticipation had been building for so long that i
t was at a fever pitch, so she supposed Laurissa could be right.
“That makes sense, I guess. Not only would they have gotten a copy of the new book, but the next one in the series after that.” She let out a snort. “I can just imagine the look on their face if they got their hands on both of them. It’d be like Christmas and their birthday rolled into one.”
She might have said that last part in jest, but truthfully, she knew that most readers didn’t realize how the writing process worked. She’d talked to hundreds of fans who assumed she finished writing a book, and then poof, a few days later, it was in bookstores. They had no idea she’d written this newest book last year. Or that the one she was furiously trying to get to her publisher in less than two weeks wouldn’t be released until next year.
“Regardless of whether they knew what book they were trying to steal, I’m just glad you agreed to follow the extra security precautions your publisher insisted on or we’d all be screwed right now,” Em said.
Peyton groaned at the reminder. At the time, she thought her publisher’s demand that she write on a desktop computer with no internet connection instead of a laptop like she always did was the stupidest thing ever. And if that weren’t enough, they’d wanted her to save the manuscript and all her notes on an external hard drive only. Talk about adding more to her workload. While it’d seemed ridiculous, she was glad they’d been so damn paranoid.
She opened her mouth to say as much, only to have a yawn steal the words right out of her mouth. Picking up her mug, she got to her feet. “I need more caffeine. Anyone else want more coffee?”
“I’ll have some,” Em said, holding out her cup.
Peyton glanced at Laurissa, but her friend shook her head.
Mugs in hand, Peyton walked around the big, granite island that separated the living room from the kitchen to get refills. This side of the house faced the ocean and as she poured the coffee, she gazed at the rough waves lapping against the sand on the beach below the house. Usually, the sight was calming, but after last night, she had a hard time focusing on the beauty.
As bad as it had been to come home to all the glass and the broken door, the night hadn’t ended there. After calling 911, she and Laurissa had to wait for what seemed like forever at a neighbor’s house for the police to show up. When they finally did, they checked the house to make sure no one was inside, then spent hours asking her questions as the rest of the cops looked for clues. She’d assumed crime scene techs would dust for prints or something, but they hadn’t. A detective named Dwayne Harrison had come by, though. A nice guy with a friendly demeanor, he told her that he’d do his best to find whoever had broken in and stolen her stuff.
“Unfortunately, we see a couple hundred thousand computers stolen in the greater San Diego area every year,” he added. “All the thief has to do is scrape the serial number stickers off and dump them at one of a thousand different pawn shops. The chances of us finding them is almost nil.”
Em had arrived a little while after Detective Harrison left and they’d all spent the remaining hours of darkness getting the sliding glass fixed—thankfully, Laurissa had a friend who installed them, otherwise there’d be plywood covering the opening right now—and the place cleaned up before making a run to Best Buy so Peyton could buy a new laptop. Because, regardless of the break-in, she still had a book to turn in.
She added cream and sweetener to her coffee—nothing for Em—then carried both mugs into the living room.
“While I know readers can sometimes get a little obsessive about their favorite stories, it’s still hard to believe that someone would go so far as to break into my house so they could get an early peek at the book.” She set Em’s mug on the coffee table in front of her before sitting down. “I mean, they’re willing to risk jail time to read a book a few days early? That’s insane.”
“You’re assuming it was a reader,” Em said as she picked up her mug and took a sip, obviously not caring that the coffee was practically hot enough to burn off her tongue.
“What do you mean?” Laurissa asked. “It had to be a fanatical reader, right? Who else would want her book enough to break down her door to get it?”
“It’s a lot more likely that the person who broke in was a book pirate, or at least hired by one.” Em placed her mug on the table, then sat back on the couch with a tired sigh. “Those jackasses have made a living stealing books within days of them hitting the market. It only makes sense that one of them would decide to change the paradigm and try to get your book early. It would give them days to make money with absolutely no competition. And imagine if they’d gotten book five and offered it up a few weeks after book four released? Readers who would normally never dream of buying from a piracy site would click the buy link without a second thought. Whoever could get their hands on an advance copy of one of your books would make millions. Tens of millions even.”
“Wow,” Laurissa murmured, looking more than a little surprised. “I never realized. I mean, sure, I know books get pirated—especially now that so many people read digital versions only—but I never thought about how they got them. That someone would break into a house and steal. Can’t anything be done to stop them?”
Em shook her head. “Not much. If the person who broke in had actually gotten the book, they would have uploaded to some website within minutes and then it would be over. Almost all of the piracy sites are overseas in places that either don’t have copyright laws or don’t enforce them. Even when publishers are able to get one of the places put out of business, there’s another to take its place. They’re like zombies.”
“Crap,” Peyton breathed. “I hadn’t even thought this could have been some piracy scheme gone bad. Do you really think that’s what happened?”
“Probably.” Em shrugged. “But truthfully, it doesn’t really matter what I think. While you and Laurissa were out getting your new laptop, I talked to your publisher. They’re worried this person was after your manuscript and that they might come after it again once they realize it’s not on either of the computers they stole. That’s why they want me to hire a bodyguard for you. The live-in, 24/7 kind of security.”
Peyton blinked at her agent over the rim of her mug, glancing back and forth between Em and Laurissa, waiting for the punchline. “A live-in bodyguard? You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not kidding,” Em said. “In fact, I have to say that I agree with them. If this really was an attempt to grab your book for pirating purposes, they’ll almost certainly try again. No doubt about it.”
“Oh, come on.” Peyton set her mug down on the table with a thud. “I already keep the book on an external hard drive I take with me everywhere I go. And I promise I’ll lock it in the safe at night. Isn’t that enough?”
“No, it isn’t.” Em sighed. “Look, I’m not to trying scare you or anything, but you need to realize you could be in danger. At some point, if these people can’t get your book the easy way, they might come after you to get it the hard way. And with that release party you have for book four coming up, it would be crazy to take the risk of going out in public without someone to protect you.”
“Maybe she’s right, Peyton,” Laurissa said with a worried look on her face. “What if this person decides to break in here in the middle of the night while you’re sleeping? With the kind of money you two are talking about, this person could decide to really hurt you.”
Peyton considered that, hating to admit even to herself that she actually was getting a little scared now. “Even if you’re right—and I’m not saying you are—how would this even work? I have a book due in two weeks and you know how I get around deadline time. I can’t have some stranger living in my house watching me write. I’d never get anything done. And how could we possibly find someone capable and trustworthy at such short notice? What if you end up hiring someone who sells me out for a few thousand dollars if this damn book pirate offers them money?”
A part of Peyton knew that last part was far-fetched, but she
hated the entire idea of a bodyguard with a passion. She was a private person by nature. It sorta came with being a writer. It was nothing for her to go days—sometimes even weeks—without interacting with anyone in person. Well, except for Laurissa. The idea of having a stranger in her house made her more than a little uncomfortable.
Em was talking about the various personal security companies that were available, saying they could have several candidates brought in so Peyton could find someone she gelled with. Peyton didn’t say anything, but she wasn’t sure if that would help.
“There is another option,” Laurissa said, her voice softer than normal for her petite but normally outgoing friend. “I know someone who’s extremely well-trained. World class protection, actually. He could protect you and it wouldn’t be weird since it wouldn’t be a total stranger.”
While Peyton frowned in confusion, wondering who Laurissa was talking about, Em looked intrigued. “You know someone with experience at protecting people who’d take on a new client at the drop of a hat like this?”
Laurissa smiled and nodded. “My brother, Noah. He’s a Navy SEAL on the Team at Coronado, so it goes without saying that there would be nobody better in the world at keeping Peyton safe. He’s on medical leave right now and going stir crazy in his apartment playing video games all day. He’d jump at any excuse to get out of his place for a while. And once I tell him it’s for a friend, he’d probably do it for free.”
Realizing her mouth was hanging open, Peyton quickly snapped it shut. She was having a big problem wrapping her head around the idea of a Navy SEAL—as in the kind of Navy SEAL who’d taken down Bin Laden—protecting her and her book. The entire concept was insane.
“If your brother is on medical leave, how can he keep an eye on Peyton?” Em asked. “We need someone healthy and capable.”
Laurissa waved her hand dismissively. “He just twisted his knee playing volleyball and pulled some ligaments or something. The SEALs put him on medical leave because he can’t do the stuff they want him to do right now—jump out of planes, swim the English Channel, ride a shark while chasing a nuclear submarine. You know, SEAL stuff. He’s still more fit than 99 percent of the men on the planet and won’t even break a sweat keeping Peyton safe.”