Broken Hero

  Broken Hero

  Aubrey Wright

  Copyright © 2019

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Mature audience only, 18+.

  Cover Design by Cover Couture

  www.bookcovercouture.com

  Cover Photo by Wander Book Club

  www.wanderbookclub.com

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  EPILOGUE

  Ex’s Best Friend Sneak Peek

  Hate You Less Sneak Peek

  Introduction

  From Amazon Top 10 bestselling author Aubrey Wright comes a romantic suspense story so sexy you won’t be able to put it down!

  Brutal protector. War Hero. Damaged goods.

  Powerful men have a certain air about them.

  Garrett Shaw just sucks the air right out the damn building.

  The word bodyguard doesn’t do him justice.

  Handsome beast in a sharp tailored suit is more like it.

  He has that look that says, “I can kill with a paperclip if I need to.”

  One handshake and I could tell this man was savage.

  My instincts screamed to stay away.

  What is it about dangerous cocky men?

  He should have come with a warning label.

  “Prick in a glass jar. Break in case of an emergency!”

  Well, I was in extreme danger, so I hired him.

  The job should have been simple.

  We weren’t supposed to get involved.

  And I wasn’t supposed to get pregnant.

  And the twist that comes next is so menacing, I couldn’t comprehend.

  Betrayal, danger, and steamy desires are all wrapped into this full-length heart pounding romance. This book has a satisfying happily ever after that won’t disappoint!

  Chapter One

  GARRETT

  I was there for an interview, but I knew right from the start that she was going to make it hard to stay professional.

  Hair as dark as India ink. Skin white as fresh snow. Eyes gorgeous and hazel.

  And her body. Damn, damn, damn.

  She was slim and toned, curvy in all the right places. Absolutely poured into that smart business outfit of a gray pencil skirt and white blouse.

  Didn’t hurt that as I walked into the office she was right in the middle of bending over to pick up a stray pen that had fallen onto the marble floor. Her ass was something else—round and full and perfect. My cock twitched in my trousers, and I had to do the old pinch-your-hand-to-distract you trick to get my erection to stop in its tracks.

  She picked the pen up, stood slowly, and regarded me with skeptical eyes from behind a pair of red-rimmed glasses. Her legs were crossed at the ankle, giving me a view of her creamy thighs that I had to use all my military discipline to not stare at like a horny teenager.

  Normally, staying composed and in control in front of women was no problem for a man like me. But there was something about her, something that made me feel like I was right on the verge of losing control as soon as I stepped through the large, black doors of her office.

  “You him?” she asked. “You my one o’clock?”

  Her voice was calm, unaffected. She moved behind the large, sweeping desk of her Midtown Manhattan office with windows looking out over the city. The sky was a smoky gray, the clouds seeming on the verge of opening up.

  I stood still, my hands at my sides.

  “I am,” I said.

  She gave me a once-over, her gaze slowly moving up and down my body. I didn’t mind. This was a bodyguard job, after all. She wanted to see if I looked like I could handle myself.

  That was a part of the interview I wasn’t worried about in the slightest. I’d come out of the other end of my years in the Navy SEALs a fine-tuned killing machine. And I hadn’t let things go since then. Hours at the gym each week kept my body solid and toned. There wasn’t a drop of fat on me—exactly how I liked it.

  However, there was something more to the way she was looking at me. Her hazel eyes were narrowed like a hunter’s. And maybe it was only my imagination, but I could’ve sworn her gaze lingered for a few seconds on places that were outside of what one might consider “professional.”

  She nodded slowly in approval then gestured to one of the high-backed leather chairs across from her desk.

  “Have a seat,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I suppose that meant I’d passed the first part of the interview.

  My eyes drifted around the office as I made my way further into it. It was a monument to professional taste. Black and white dominated the color palate, with expensive-looking, minimalist modern art adorning the walls, and tall black bookshelves packed with the elegant spines of law texts reaching up to the ceilings. It was cold and clean and well put together—the precise impression I got from my potential client.

  My appraisal of the office wasn’t out of some interest in interior design, however. Scanning a room was part of my training. It was pure instinct to take stock of any space I entered, making note of entrances and exits, what could be used as improvised weapons, things like that. The training was a part of me now, baked into my muscles and nerves.

  “Natalie Mayer,” she said, extending a French-nail-tipped hand toward me as I made my way across the office.

  “Garrett Shaw,” I replied, taking her hand.

  Her skin was soft as silk, the kind of hands that you’d expect from a woman who worked with her mind.

  It was strange. Part of me didn’t want to let go of her.

  Get it together, dumbass, I told myself as I withdrew my hand from the shake. This is a fucking interview, not a blind date.

  Not that I had much time for dating, of course. I ran my own security company and that was my life. There wasn’t much time for drinks with beautiful women at West Village wine bars.

  I slid into the chair and she took a seat at hers. Natalie projected power and confidence, which wasn’t surprising considering she was one of the top lawyers in the city. I got the impression she was the type to chew up and spit out lesser men, and that this interview would be a test to see if I could hold my own as much as it was a review of my résumé.

  “Garret Shaw,” she said, looking away as she spoke, as if trying on the name for size. “Or should I call you ‘Master Chief Shaw’?”

  I let a small smile curl my lips.

  “I see you did your homework,” I said, crossing my legs.

  “Of course I did,” she said. “I’m a woman
who likes to be prepared.”

  She sat back and folded her hands on her lap, her eyes fixed on me the entire time. It felt like she was waiting for me to flinch. But that wasn’t going to happen. When you’ve faced down dozens of men with murder in their eyes, it gave you a certain toughness that no civilian could crack.

  “No need for ranks,” I said. “I’ve been out of the service for a good few years.”

  “I see that,” she said, turning her attention to the large Apple monitor on her desk. “Eight years in the Navy, six in the SEALs. You’ve been to Afghanistan, Iraq, and a few places that are very, very classified.”

  The smallest hint of a smile appeared on her blood-red lips. “Does that mean if I asked you about them you’d have to kill me?”

  That old joke. But I didn’t mind playing along.

  “Nah,” I said. “Wouldn’t need to go to that much of an extreme. But maybe I’d have to rough you up a little.”

  The double entendre was inadvertent, but there was no mistaking it. I won’t lie—my version of “roughing up” a woman like her would definitely include a spanking or two.

  “Curious to know what that would entail,” she said, apparently picking up on it.

  Before I had a chance to come back with a rejoinder, she flicked her eyes back to the monitor and spoke again.

  “And now you’re the head of Shaw Security Services,” she said. “And you’ve got quite the resume.”

  She kept her eyes on the screen and went on.

  “You’ve guarded them all. CEOs, senators, even a few foreign presidents, it looks like.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “My crew’s the sort that gets brought in when certain high-up types want a little more protection than their usual security details provide. We fill in the gaps, make sure all the angles are covered.”

  “And I take it your track record is stellar?”

  “More than stellar,” I said.

  Another small smile formed on her lips, a coy little grin that struck me as sexually charged, whether she was intending it that way or not. I couldn’t help but imagine what I’d like to see her do with those full, gorgeous lips of hers.

  “Someone’s confident,” she said.

  I nodded, not missing a beat. “That’s right,” I said. “I’m not much of the bragging sort, but I’m proud as hell of my crew. Any job we get we perform to the best of our abilities. And ‘ability’ is what we’ve got in spades.”

  “Good to hear,” she said. “Because I’ve got more than a professional interest in what you’re capable of.”

  The image of her ass when I first walked in flashed in my mind. I’d love to show her what I was capable of.

  “So I hear,” I said. “I don’t want to step out of line, but can I ask how you heard about my outfit? We don’t exactly advertise on Craigslist.”

  “I have my ways,” she said. “You’re not the only one who works with high-level clients.”

  Made sense. I let her go on.

  “You might be in the physical protection business, but I do protection of a different sort. Make sure that my clients make it through whatever courtroom-related issues in one piece.”

  “So I hear,” I said. “Like I said, I do my homework.”

  She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

  “Is that right?” she asked. “And what is it that you learned, exactly?”

  “I learned about your nickname, for one.”

  Now I had her interest.

  “Go ahead and say it,” she said. “Just want to make sure you got it right.”

  I grinned and spoke.

  “The Doctor,” I said.

  “Very good,” she said right back. “And did you learn why they call me that?”

  “At first I thought it might’ve been because of your vast knowledge of the law—encyclopedic like a doctor’s. Or maybe because you’re really into the ‘helping’ part of the business.”

  She said nothing as I went on.

  “But then, after doing a little asking around, I found out why. It’s because you slice and dice your opponents in the courtroom like a doctor cutting into her patients. Precisely, methodically, and thoroughly. One minute they’re in one piece, the next they’re missing vital organs. Maybe ‘The Butcher’ would be a little more appropriate.”

  “I like my nickname better,” she said. “Cleaner. Not as gruesome.”

  “And your client list is pretty impressive,” I said. “If someone’s got an eight-figure income in this city, you’ve worked with them.”

  “Not you, however,” she said.

  I did my best to hide my surprise, but she saw right through it.

  “You look shocked,” she said.

  “Not shocked,” I said. “Just impressed to see how deep your homework went.”

  “I don’t leave anything to chance,” she said. “And that includes net worth. After all, what good is a bodyguard if he’s scraping by? Makes him a prime target for a bribe.”

  I liked this woman. She was sharp as hell, and clearly she had no rose-colored glasses on when it came to the darker parts of human nature.

  “Well, I’m not going to lie,” I said. “My outfit and I have had a few good years. And we don’t exactly advertise our bottom line.”

  “But it’s impressive all the same. And makes me confident that you’re not going to shift loyalties for someone dangling a check in front of you.”

  “I hope that doesn’t mean you’re questioning my loyalty,” I said, my tone taking a hard edge.

  She didn’t appear to be ruffled in the slightest.

  “Not at all,” she said. “Just like to have all the bases covered.”

  She uncrossed her legs and crossed them again, her ripe thighs like magnets for the eyes.

  “Did you do the same for me?”

  “My parents taught me it was impolite to ask people about their income. Or snoop around and find out, as the case may be now.”

  She chuckled softly. “What a gentleman,” she said.

  Now it was my turn to chuckle. A gentleman, sure. Maybe the kind of gentleman who knew ten different ways to kill a man with nothing more than a paper clip.

  “I don’t need to know every last bit of your personal history,” I said. “Just got a few rules. If you satisfy them, then that’s all I need.”

  “Rules, huh?” she asked. “Let’s hear them.”

  “You pay up front,” I said. “I hear you out, determine the workload, and write you a figure for up-front payment. You look at that figure, and if you can pay it, we’re good to go. No haggling, no ‘half up-front’ BS, and no payment in goods. Once the down payment’s made, we’re per diem from there on out.”

  “Cash I can do,” she said. “What else?”

  “I don’t mess with drugs. That means no work for cartels, no guarding shipments, no protecting traffickers. And this applies to human trafficking as well.”

  “Easy enough,” she said. “I’ll just make sure you don’t see my meth lab.”

  I tried to be as serious as I could, but I still couldn’t help but crack a small smile. Natalie clearly had a wry sense of humor, which was exactly my style.

  “And the rest?” she asked.

  “I’ve done some, ah, let’s call them wetworks, and I hope you know what I mean. And in these jobs kids and women are off-limits.”

  “Understood,” she said. “And very gentlemanly of you.”

  “It goes beyond being gentlemanly,” I said. “Sure, I’ve got moral objections to the matter, but it’s also just makes sense. You mess with a man’s family, and you’ve made an enemy for life. Blood feuds aren’t really my thing.”

  “Well, I can assure you that I’m not going to be asking anything like that out of you,” she said.

  “Then let’s get right to the matter,” I said. “I got word you wanted to meet, so here I am. The exact nature of the job wasn’t entirely clear to me.”

  Natalie leaned forward, folded her hands on her desk and spoke. �
��Your job, Mr. Shaw,” she said, “is to keep me alive.”

  Chapter Two

  NATALIE

  Sure, I’d been expecting a tall, brick wall of a man when I’d set up the interview with Garrett Shaw. But I suppose I’d imagined something else.

  The word “bodyguard” brought to mind some thick-necked, shaved-headed gorilla of a man. The type who was more brawn than brains and spoke mostly in grunts. I imagined the kind of man whom you’d position like a piece of very deadly furniture, a killer beast of a guy.

  Garrett, however, wasn’t what I was expecting.

  He was tall, sure—the top of his head nearly knocked against the top of the doorframe, which meant that he had to be somewhere a little under six and a half feet.

  And he was muscular. But he wasn’t muscular in the “shaved ape” or prizefighter way I had in mind. He was lean but built, his gorgeous, wide-shouldered frame fitting perfectly into a sharp, well-tailored suit.

  His hair was brown and his skin was tan. Those features and his ice-blue eyes made him look like something out of an action movie, a rogue superhuman villain you’re frightened of and drawn to all at the same time, a warrior that you secretly wouldn’t be all that upset about if he raided your town and carried you out over his strong, muscular shoulder.

  But he was more than muscle. There was alertness not just to his eyes but in his whole body. He moved with purpose and something else that struck me as a kind of grace. Not a dainty grace, of course, but the grace of a man who knew what each muscle and appendage of his body was capable of.