The Protector: The Complete C.I.A. Romance Series

by Lilian Monroe

  I snorted. “I hope not.”

  She sighed and pulled out her phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Texting Martha—Mickey’s wife. She needs to know what’s going on.”

  “Turn your phone off.”

  “Why?”

  “Turn it off!”

  She pressed send on her message and turned to me with a frown. “This isn’t some spy movie, Bennett. I need to make sure my brother and his family are okay.”

  “No, you’re right, Senator. It’s not a spy movie. It’s real life. Now turn your phone off or else I’ll throw it out the fucking window.”

  Her eyes widened, but she did what I said without a word. I sighed. “You got any other electronics?”

  “Just my work computer.”

  “Take the battery out. Anything with a WIFI connection or a GPS has to be disabled.”

  “What about the car? What about your phone?”

  “They’re secure.”

  “Why should I trust you, Bennett? I met you a month ago and since then, my life has turned to shit. Maybe you’re the problem.”

  “Well, I may be a problem, but right now I’m the lesser of two evils.”

  I didn’t look at her, but I could feel her bristle.

  We drove in silence for fifteen or twenty minutes until I took a deep breath. “Ask me anything.”

  She glanced at me. “What?”

  “As me anything you want about me, and I’ll answer it. I want you to trust me.”

  She chewed her lip for a minute, mulling over my question. “What do you think about me?”

  I frowned. “I thought you were going to ask me about my past, or like, how many brothers and sisters I have.”

  “I don’t need to know how many siblings you have. I want to know what I’m getting myself into and if I can trust you. What you think of me is important.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “So?” I felt her glance at me.

  I grinned. “Well, I think you’re young, and a bit out of your depth at the Capitol.”

  “You think I’m under qualified.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “I can read subtext.”

  “I think you’re overwhelmed and unsure what to think about your new position. I think you’re bright and you’ll make a great senator, but your first month has been… tumultuous.” I said the last word and then paused.

  She snorted. “You can say that again.”

  “So? How did I do?”

  “Well, I asked you what you think of me, and you told me what you think of me. You did great. What else?”

  “I think you’re beautiful and fragile and you have a big heart. I don’t think you’ll last long in Washington.”

  She said nothing, and I couldn’t read her body language. I regretted saying those things. The longer the silence stretched between us, the more I regretted it. I took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

  “You know,” she said quietly. “I always dreamed of being in D.C.. I didn’t think it would be like this, though.”

  “I don’t think it is, usually. I think it’s pretty boring for most people.”

  She laughed bitterly. “I could do with a little boredom. I’m sick of all this.”

  “Enjoy it while it lasts,” I grinned. “Once we figure out what’s going on, it’ll be all over and you’ll miss the adrenaline rush.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?”

  “Yes.”

  “I won’t miss the bruises.”

  “The bruises will heal.”

  “Why don’t you think I’ll last long in D.C.?” She glanced at me, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. I shouldn’t have said that.

  I sighed, considering her question. “You’re too good.”

  That made her laugh. “You know, half the time I feel like you’re suspicious of me, like you think I have an ulterior motive for everything. And now you’re telling me that I’m some great person, a saint, and I’ll never make it in politics? You sound confused, Agent Bennett.”

  I kept my eyes on the road and nodded once. “Yeah. I know I am.”

  15

  Cat

  We took a roundabout route to the safe house. By the time we got there, I had no idea where we were. I assume Bennett wanted to make sure that we weren’t being followed, and I appreciated it. But by the time we got there, my eyelids were getting heavy and the stress of the day was catching up to me.

  Agent Bennett pulled off the main freeway and took a few small backroads until we were on a gravel country road for at least fifteen minutes. He pulled into a long driveway and we drove through a winding roads to a small house—more of a shack, really. He parked the car at the back of the building and nodded to me.

  “We’re here.”

  “Glamorous,” I said, glancing at the rickety old building. “Does this thing have running water?”

  “I never took you for a high maintenance person.”

  “Is running water considered high maintenance?”

  Bennett carried my bags inside, which was surprisingly gallant of him. I couldn’t figure him out. He was so hot and cold with me that it made my head spin. I didn’t know if he liked me or despised me, and right now, I was too tired to care.

  I desperately wanted to turn my phone on and call my sister-in-law. My thoughts kept circling back to Mickey, alone in the hospital while I had run away.

  It wasn’t right.

  Bennett appeared behind me after he turned on the lights and heating in our little house. I stared out at the road, the smattering of trees on either side of it, and I sighed.

  I glanced up at him and my heart squeezed. I liked him. I couldn’t help it. Even when he was cold to me, I was drawn to him.

  I didn’t like feeling this powerless, but there was little I could do to fight it.

  I took a deep breath. “Can you find out about my brother?”

  Bennett nodded. “I’ll ask the other agents to give me updates. I should be getting a call within an hour. You hungry?”

  I shook my head and stared out the window again. I wasn’t hungry; I was scared. I didn’t know why I was here, or who was terrorizing me. I didn’t know who Bennett was or if my feelings would get me in trouble.

  I didn’t know how my brother was doing or if he would ever forgive me for getting him in that mess in the first place.

  Being alone in a tiny house in the middle of nowhere made the crushing loneliness even worse. I sighed, turning away from the window. Bennett was staring at me, his eyebrows drawn together in worry.

  “The bedroom’s in there.”

  “Where are you going to sleep?”

  He nodded to the couch.

  “Why is there only one bed? If this is a safe house, shouldn’t they plan for agents and… whatever I am, too? Protectees? There should be two beds, minimum.”

  “Probably,” he grinned. “But that would be too logical. This is the C—Secret Service.” He stuttered, and I frowned. “The couch will be fine. We have enough food here for a few weeks.”

  “A few weeks? How long am I staying here?” My heart thudded and Bennett shrugged.

  “Not that long. Hopefully no more than a day or two.”

  “I have to go to work, Bennett.”

  “We’ll deal with it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Try not to worry, Cat.”

  “Right okay. Yeah, ‘try not to worry’. Good advice.” I huffed, and Bennett put his hands on my shoulders. I tried to take a deep breath, squeezing my eyes shut and sighing.

  He gestured to the worn wooden table and we both took a seat. I watch him fold his big hands together and rest his elbows on the table. He was gathering his thoughts. I was too tired to think. I glanced at the bedroom—all I wanted to do was sleep.

  “Cat, you need to tell me everything you know about your grandfather, about the Polish man who came to see you, and about the activist. Anyone
who might have a bone to pick with you. I need to know everything.”

  Frustration built up inside me and I struggled to find the right words. There was nothing. He was staring at me as if I had some big secret to spill, but I didn’t. I had no enemies. I didn’t know any Polish people, apart from the man who showed up in my office. I knew my grandfather was Polish, but my father’s side was of English descent.

  I massaged my temples, squeezing my eyes shut. “Bennett, I don’t know. I don’t know anyone who would have a problem with me. The fish guy—I thought that was just because I was on the Fisheries Committee, and I just got appointed to that a month ago. As far as the guy in my office… I’d never seen him before. He knew my grandfather, but…” I sighed. “There’s something I don’t know,” I continued. “That picture…”

  I glanced up at Bennett and shook my head. “I wish my grandfather was healthy. I wish I’d found out about this years ago and I could ask him what he was doing in that picture and who that Kowalski guy is. But I didn’t know, and now it’s too late. He’s too sick.”

  Bennett took a deep breath, and then reached over and took my hand in his. “Okay.”

  He squeezed my hand and didn’t say anything else. Instead, he stood up and led me to the bedroom. He paused in the doorway as we looked at each other for a few moments.

  “Sleep tight,” he said softly.

  “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

  His eyes gleamed. Then he closed the door and I was alone.

  I hadn’t realized I fell asleep until I woke up to the sun streaming through the windows. Bennett was already up, with a pot of coffee made and some bacon cooking in a pan.

  “Where’d the bacon come from?” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, wrapping my sweater around me.

  Bennett grinned. “Freezer. There’s some frozen bread for toast, too, but no eggs.”

  “I’ll manage without eggs,” I smiled. My stomach rumbled.

  “Your brother is still unconscious, but he’s stable,” Bennett said as he loaded our plates up with bacon. My eyes widened.

  “That’s good, right? He’ll recover?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “That’s good. We have to wait until he wakes up to see if there’s any permanent damage.”

  I blinked back tears and took a deep breath. “Okay.” I nodded.

  We ate in silence, exchanging glances every once in a while. That was one thing I liked about him—he didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with unnecessary chatter. I guessed that came with the job. It was his job to be a silent observer, not to make polite conversation with the people he was protecting.

  After we washed our breakfast dishes, I poured myself another mug of coffee and walked over to the bookshelf. It was full of old crime dramas and romance novels with a few espionage books sprinkled in. There was no TV, no internet, no phone, but there were enough books to keep me busy.

  I chose a worn bodice-ripper and curled up on the couch.

  Bennett arched his eyebrows. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to read that.”

  “Oh, give me a break,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Who could resist Fabio on the cover?”

  He grunted, and his eyes darkened slightly. We stared at each other for a moment, and then I shrugged and opened the book. “Well I need something to distract me from the absolute nightmare that my life has become.”

  “Easy,” Bennett said. “I might be offended if you keep talking like that.”

  I stuck my nose in my book, but I could feel his eyes on me. I forced myself to keep my head down, and eventually I escaped into the story, and Bennett went outside.

  A couple hours later, Bennett walked inside. I looked up and smiled at him.

  “How’s the book?” Bennett asked.

  I sighed. “If only things were like that in real life.”

  “Like what?”

  “Simple. Easy. Guaranteed to end happily.”

  “Sounds boring.” He walked to the kitchen and opened a couple cupboards, pulling out some pasta and pasta sauce. “I like a little misery in my life. Makes me appreciate the good times.”

  “Well, I must have some serious good times in store after all this.”

  Bennett arched his eyebrows. I pushed myself off the couch and came to stand beside him.

  “Can I help with anything?”

  “You can boil some water.”

  I grabbed a pot and filled it with water, putting it on the stove and turning it on. We stood side-by-side and stared at it.

  “How long do you think we’ll have to stay here?” I asked quietly.

  Agent Bennett took a deep breath. “I’m not sure. I’m waiting on the word from headquarters that says it’s all clear for you to go back to the office.”

  “I have work to do, you know.”

  “We’ve covered it.”

  “What do you mean, covered it? I have Senate sessions to sit in on.”

  “Anyone who needs to know where you are thinks you’re ill.”

  I took a deep breath as the frustration built inside me. I glanced at the four walls around me, and then at the sad little pot of water sitting on the stove.

  I was completely trapped. I didn’t know who was after me, who had attacked my brother, or why they would do anything to hurt me. I didn’t know if I could really trust Agent Bennett, or if he had my best interests at heart. The only thing I knew was that I was impossibly attracted to him, and it took all my self-control to push those feelings back down.

  Being cooped up in a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere with a sexy, muscular man who was sworn to protect me had a way of appealing to my feminine side.

  I took a deep breath, and Bennett’s hand drifted to my lower back. Glancing at him, I arched my eyebrows.

  “What’s happening, Bennett? Am I in danger? Is my brother in danger?”

  “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” His voice rumbled through his chest, sending shivers through my veins. I closed my eyes, leaning toward him.

  “I don’t want you to protect me. I don’t want to need protection. I just want to do my job.”

  He put his fingers on my chin and tilted my chin up, forcing me to open my eyes. His deep, brown eyes stared into mine, and I saw a softness there that I hadn’t seen before.

  “Like it or not, Senator, this is your life now. The minute you were appointed to the position, you got a target on your back. I’ll find out who is doing this to you, and I’ll deal with them. I promise.”

  The air thickened between us as I stared into his eyes. My brain screamed at me to back away, to put the walls up around my heart that were starting to crumble. There were too many risks, too many questions, too many unknowns.

  I had to keep my distance.

  But my body wouldn’t listen. I melted into him, losing myself in his arms, his eyes, his touch. I felt my self-control waning as I brought my lips closer to his.

  And then he froze.

  16

  Chris

  The crunch of a boot breaking a twig made my whole body go still. I held my breath, forcing my heartbeat to stay steady as I glanced over Cat’s shoulder. I swept my eyes over the room and through the windows, straining to hear another noise.

  “What’s—”

  “Shh,” I said, moving her behind me. In the small u-shaped kitchen, our bodies were pressed up against each other. “Get down.”

  She frowned, her breath catching as fear flooded her eyes, but she did as I said. She crouched down below the level of the kitchen cabinets as I crept over to the shelf where I’d left my service weapon. I flicked the safety off and felt the familiar weight of the gun in my hand. It was good to be holding it.

  I pressed my back against the wall, inching toward the window. Using the tip of my finger to move the old, plaid curtain, I glanced outside.

  There was nothing. No movement, no noise, but I knew what I’d heard. Someone was here. Cat crawled on all fours and poked her head around the kitchen cabinets. I waved her away, dropping down t
o make my way to the other window.

  Using the same technique, I glanced out. I kept my breath steady as the adrenaline started to pour into my veins. I positioned myself in the corner, so that I had a clear line of sight to both the front and the back doors. I could smell Cat’s fear from the other side of the room.

  She was right to be afraid. Someone was trying to hurt her.

  But it wouldn’t be today.

  This is what I was made for. Not desks and paperwork, not the diplomacy and manipulation of the CIA. I was made for action. Every muscle in my body was tense, coiled like a spring ready to explode. I was calm, yet ready.

  Whoever was coming through our door would have to face me.

  I wasn’t ready for the window beside me to explode, though. Shattered glass flew into the room as one of the chairs from outside came flying through the opening. At the same time, the front door flew open and a man in a balaclava came through. His gun glinted in the low light as he raised it toward me.

  But I was faster. I fired my first shot just as he ducked back out the door. Splinters of wood went flying and Cat screamed. The back door opened and another hooded man stepped through. He was as tall as I am, but twice as wide. I would never beat him in hand-to-hand combat.

  Good thing he’s a big target.

  I aimed and fired again, this time hitting the man square in the chest. He made a grunting, gurgling sound as he slumped against the wall and knocked over one of the kitchen chairs.

  Before I could turn back toward the front door, a man came flying through the broken window, his arm knocking my weapon out of my hand. He wasn’t wearing a mask, and I recognized him from the Oldsmobile that had followed us. His yellow, crooked teeth were barred as he lunged at me like a rabid dog.

  My gun was out of reach, knocked across the floor. The man came at me, his arms punching and flailing as he tackled me to the ground. Pain exploded through my jaw as his fist connected cleanly, but I gritted my teeth and pushed my fingers into his eyes.

  He snarled, whipping his head to the side and trying to knee me in the balls. I flinched out of the way, using the movement to punch him in the side. He grunted, and he pressed his hand against my neck to pin me against the ground. I bucked, landing a flurry of punches to his side.