The man is a survivor of some of the worst brutality I’ve ever seen. Which is where Paul comes in. Paul saved Forest’s life.
He’s the same height as Forest. Not as broad but stacked with muscle. The two of them together are a force no man in his right mind would mess with.
The girls are safe. More than safe.
Kaye is safe.
Not that I like them watching over her one bit, but I can’t argue against whether Forest and Paul are capable of providing adequate protection.
They are.
End of story.
“Earth to Zeb?” Rafe pokes me in the arm.
“What?”
“You daydreaming, or what?”
“Excuse me?”
“You haven’t heard a word.” He looks at me like I’ve got a screw loose, which maybe I do.
“Sorry. What were you saying?” I have no idea what he said to me.
“A new client’s coming in for the Protectors. Sam sent Chase Lawson up from HQ, but he’s delayed by an accident on PCH-1. We’re to pick the client up at the airport, secure her until Chase can get to us. Or we get to him. After that, we’re free to return to HQ and drop Rafe and Hayes at the townhouse.” Alec sits back and adjusts the passenger side mirror to better see behind us.
“Just Rafe and Hayes?” I scrunch my nose and let the rest of that comment wither and die.
After the dressing down Rafe and Hayes gave me about Kaye, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for them to know I’m in active pursuit of Kaye.
Their comments rubbed me wrong. I didn’t interfere when Rafe went after Carmen, and I said nothing when it was clear Hayes and Rosalie were a thing. Why are their noses up my ass about Kaye?
She’s not a client or an active case. And she’s not a rescue mission. If we’re going to talk boundaries, let’s talk about that. Rafe and Hayes will lose that argument each and every time.
Their overprotectiveness pisses me the fuck off. I shake it off and focus on the mission. “What do we know about our target?”
“Client, not target,” Rafe corrects me.
“Sorry, force of habit.” Our missions generally involve taking down a target and rescuing hostages. It’s in the very name of our organization. “What do we know about our client?”
“Sam isn’t forthcoming.” Rafe spits out the words with a twist in his lip. He’s not happy with the lack of information.
“Why’s that?” Like him, I’m curious information’s being withheld from us.
The Guardian Protectors, or Protectors for short, are a new limb of our organization. The Guardians work in six man teams, highly aligned with the way we ran missions in the Navy as SEALs.
The Protectors are solo operators, providing boutique personal protection services to clients seeking something more than the average bodyguard can provide.
“Mitzy’s securing boarding passes as we speak.”
“We’re meeting her at the gate?” It’s the only reason our technical lead would purchase plane tickets.
“You’re on vehicle duty,” Rafe says. “Mitzy will keep up with our progress and direct you to the pickup point.”
“Sounds easy enough.” I’ve got the cushy part of this job. Not to mention, I hate airports, especially getting through security.
With that bit of information, the three of them divest themselves of their weapons. Not that it’s required. Guardians, and Protectors alike, hold special assignment status with the US Marshalls. That allows us to enter places like airports and bypass security with little to no fuss.
It also raises eyebrows, incites speculation, and draws way more attention than we want. Sometimes, it’s useful to flash a badge. Other times, it’s better to fly under the radar.
This is more of a get-in-and-get-out-without-being-noticed kind of gig.
My part is easy. Drop my teammates off, circle around the airport until they make contact with the client, then pick everyone up at the curb.
If I’m lucky, this will take no more than an hour, or two. We only need to fill in the gap before Chase takes over Protector duties. Then it’s back to the townhouse.
Back to Kaye.
And back to my growing obsession with the pretty blonde. Why, or what, is different about her? Any other woman and I wouldn’t look twice, but somehow, she worked her way under my skin.
FIVE
Kaye
Barbi’s relentless digging gets on my nerves. Not in a bad way, but in the fun, best friend kind of way.
“If you want Zeb, you can have him.” I chuck one of my shirts at her face. “Now, stop teasing me.”
“Well, I just need to know if we need to come up with some kind of signal?” Her eyebrows knit together, as if she’s serious, but from the curve of her lips, she’s totally having fun with me.
“Signal?” Curiosity replaces that niggling annoyance.
“You know—like if there’s a sock on the door, it’s because you and Zeb are in here doing the nasty?”
Her suggestion sends a wave of embarrassment coursing through me. My cheeks heat for what must be the twentieth time today. I hate how I wear my emotions on my sleeve.
I groan and shake my head.
“Oh my God. You’re horrible. I just met the guy and you already have us in bed? We’re not talking about this.”
I want to ignore what she says and return to the mundane task of folding my clothes, but she’s having too much fun. A surge of vulnerability rises in my chest.
“You may be done, but I’m not. I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t tell you not to let what happened with Professor Parker cloud your judgment when it comes to other men. You know you like him and don’t pretend otherwise.”
The hurt inflicted upon me by Scott is like an open wound. It’s hard to step away from it. Hard to think about venturing into the unknown with another man.
Doesn’t she know this?
Barbi goes back to making a dent in my clothes. I join her, wordlessly, losing myself to the rhythm of tidying up our room. Her words linger in my head, repeating over and over. Which makes me think about what it would be like to be with Zeb. Another flush creeps into my cheeks.
“Ladies…” Carmen’s singsong voice drifts down the hall. Her light steps follow, announcing her presence. By the time she arrives, we’ve made a major dent in folding the pile of my clothes. Barbi and I work quickly as a team.
“How’s it going?” Carmen pokes her head in our room—still weird to think of Barbi’s room as mine.
“How’s Rosalie?” I twist, looking over my shoulder to see Carmen better.
“She’s good. Almost moved in.” Carmen’s smile is as warm as ever. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe the trauma she’s endured. She doesn’t mention Rosalie has precious little to move in.
The two of them went on a major shopping excursion, buying all the things. Considering Rosalie arrived on US soil with nothing but the clothes on her back, it was a mega shopping event.
After a few days of questions and debriefings with the Guardians, Carmen and Rosalie were finally allowed to return to the townhouse, which brings us to this moment.
“And you? How are you doing?” Barbi exchanges a look with me.