Broken Hero Page 4

  She looked like something out of a dream. She was dressed in a long, flowing red dress, the fabric clinging tightly to her supple curves. A long slit went up the bottom half, giving me a flash of her leg with each step she took. Her makeup was tasteful and attractive, all of the features of her stunning face accentuated just a bit. Her hair was done up in a bouquet of curls, and a small smile played on her dark red lips.

  I cleared my throat, turning my attention back to the apartment in an attempt not to obviously eye-fuck her.

  “Not a bit,” I said.

  “Wow,” she said. “Someone’s got strong opinions on interior décor.”

  “It’s not that,” I said.

  She stepped up to my side as if trying to figure out exactly what I was looking at. Natalie was wearing a different but equally intriguing perfume than she was yesterday, and she stood close enough to me that I could feel the heat from her body. I chewed my lower lip, trying to stop an erection before it started.

  “It’s not the décor,” I said. “It’s the safety.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. First of all, the girl down at the front desk didn’t ask me for photo ID. All it’d take for the red carpet to be rolled out into your apartment would be someone finding out who you were expecting.”

  “I see,” she said.

  I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “And this is no good,” I said, pointing to the windows of the adjacent buildings. “Someone could post up in one of those buildings with a high-powered rifle and have a clear shot at you. You’d be down before you even heard the glass break.”

  “That’s disconcerting,” she said.

  “It should be.”

  I turned back to her and saw that the color had drained out of her face.

  “You sure know how to get a girl in the mood for a night out.”

  I realized that I was coming down too hard on her. I needed to keep her safe, not scare her out of her mind. But there was something about her that made my protective instinct feel like it was running wild—it was much, much more intense than I normally felt doing bodyguard work.

  Still, she needed to be kept aware of danger. It was a tricky balancing act.

  “You’re paying me to keep you safe,” I said. “Being a charming date for the evening is lower down the list of priorities.”

  She stepped away from me and made her way over to a small tray packed with bottles of alcohol. I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger on her ass while she walked. The woman was built to perfection, her ass as perfect as they came.

  “Technically,” she said, picking up a bottle of vodka, “I’m not paying you anything yet.”

  “Good point,” I said. “We’re still on something of a probationary period, after all.”

  I wouldn’t normally do something like this for a client. They either paid for my services or they didn’t. But I had my reasons for ensuring that she signed me on.

  “How’s everything looking, otherwise?” she asked, stepping over to me with two drinks in her hands.

  “Good,” I said. “The rest of my team will be keeping a perimeter, and I’ll be right up close with you. If anyone tries anything, we’ll know about it.”

  She handed me one of the glasses.

  “I’ll pass,” I said. “Can’t risk a dulled mind.”

  “Smart man,” she said, setting down my glass and taking a sip of her own. “Personally, I can’t handle these things without a little booze in my system.”

  “That right?” I asked.

  “It is,” she said. “I’m in this game to work cases—my place is in the courtroom. Networking and rubbing elbows, it’s just not my scene.”

  Then she looked me up and down.

  “You, Mr. Shaw, on the other hand, look like you were born to go to these things.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.

  “You should. I might have to play the role of jealous girlfriend if some trophy wife wanders off her husband’s arm and tries to put the moves on you.”

  I allowed myself a grin. “I’ll do my best not to put her in any restriction holds,” I said.

  “At least, not any that you don’t try on me first.”

  Her eyes briefly flashed with shock as soon as the words left her mouth. I chuckled and didn’t dwell on the fact that she’d just laid out a pretty juicy come-on.

  Before either of us could say anything else, Natalie’s phone buzzed on the stand by the door.

  “That should be our ride,” she said. “You ready to do this?”

  “Ready as it gets,” I said. I stepped up to the front door and opened it for her. “After you,” I said.

  She flashed me a gorgeous smile as she stepped past me and into the hallway. The elevator was another exercise in restraint—the mirrored walls allowed for a very nice view of her ass. And I might’ve been imagining things, but I could’ve sworn that she was using the mirrors for the very same purpose.

  The doors opened, and we stepped into the lobby. Out in front of the apartment building I spotted a sleek black luxury car.

  “Nice ride,” I said.

  “Hate owning a car in the city,” she said. “So I hire a driver whenever I can.”

  “Right there with you on owning a car. That’s why I’ve got a bike.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “You…bike?” she asked as we stepped out into the brisk evening air. “As in a bicycle?”

  “As in a motorcycle bike,” I said.

  “Ah,” she said with a smirk. “I was having trouble imagining an international bodyguard zipping through New York on a fixie.”

  I chuckled as we stepped up to the car, the chauffeur opening the door for us as we did.

  Natalie slid into the back cab and I followed her. The driver shut the door, and once he was back behind the wheel we were off.

  I watched the cars on both sides of us as we drove, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious.

  “Wow,” she said. “There’s no off button for you, is there?”

  “Nope,” I said. “Back in the SEALs, the idea behind the training is that you’re always on guard, always on the lookout for anything that might be a danger.”

  “Must make it hard to enjoy a night out.”

  “Sure,” I said. “But it keeps me alive. And my clients.”

  A look of worry appeared on her face. “I still can’t believe this,” she said. “I can’t believe that I let myself get into a situation where I actually have to worry about my life.”

  “But you don’t,” I said.

  Natalie regarded me with a confused expression.

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  Chapter Six

  NATALIE

  One thing was for damn sure. Garrett looked good as hell in that tux of his.

  When I’d walked out of the bedroom and saw him standing there looking like he’d just stepped off a runway, I had to remind myself that he was my soon-to-be-hired bodyguard and not some piece of arm candy I’d found for the evening.

  His figure was trim but well proportioned, the perfect blend of masculine form and function. His face was clean-shaven and his golden-brown hair cut tight. His eyes glittered that beautiful striking blue, his expression both scanning and sensual all at once. I’d felt my pussy clench and tingle as soon as I’d laid eyes on him.

  And he was my date for the night. Or something like that.

  “OK,” I said as we approached the address of the party. “I just thought of something.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  “I need a story.”

  “A story?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Some story for who you are and what you’re doing here.”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding slowly in understanding. “Can’t exactly introduce me as your muscle for the evening.”

  “Muscle” was right. During the entire drive it’d been a total test of my restraint to not ogle him, with his suit
cut tight enough to make it clear he had some serious arms and shoulders under that fabric.

  “Hmm,” I said, slowly tapping my chin. “How about you’re a client from Chicago I’m showing around the city?”

  “No good,” he said.

  “No good?”

  “That’s right. Trust me. I’ve done enough events like this with clients to know how this works. You introduce me as someone from Chicago and the first person I meet is going to actually be from there. He’ll ask me what neighborhood I’m from and what I think of the Cubs’ chances this year, and that’ll be that.”

  He was good. I had to give him that.

  “Then what’s your idea?” I asked.

  “You know, for someone who’s in the legal profession, you sure seem to have a hard time knowing how to bend the truth.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Someone’s working from some pretty well-worn stereotypes.”

  “What, it’s not true?”

  I pursed my lips for a moment then spoke. “It is and it isn’t. Sure, there are some shady lawyers out there, but I’m not one of them. I get the results I do in the courtroom because I care about justice, not about making money.”

  “And if you were that kind of lawyer you wouldn’t even need to have me here,” he said. “You wouldn’t need protection from Joey because you’d have taken him up on his offer.”

  “That’s right,” I said with a nod, pleased that he got it.

  “OK,” he said. “Mea culpa. But as someone who has worked in undercover situations, let me give you a pointer about lying. The best lies aren’t ones that are made out of whole cloth.”

  “Too much to keep track of, right? Too much that can go wrong?”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That’s right. The hardest part of lying is keeping everything straight, trying to remember who you told what. So, like in most things, you just want to kiss.”

  My eyes went wide. Kiss?

  “Surely you’re not hitting on me right now,” I said.

  Not that I would’ve minded if he was.

  He chuckled. “No—‘keep it simple, stupid’.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said, feeling a little silly that I’d thought he’d meant anything else.

  He went on. “The best lies are the ones that are little twists on a truth. So, if you want to come up with a story for me, just take what you already know and tweak it a little bit.”

  It made quite a bit of sense.

  “OK,” I said, looking away in thought. “So, you’re a bodyguard who lives here in New York. Where in the city?”

  “Williamsburg,” he said.

  “Huh,” she said. “Never took you as a Brooklynite.”

  “Why?” he asked with a smirk. “Because I don’t write for a lifestyle blog about the newest taco trucks in the city?”

  “Oh, a smartass?” I asked. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.” I got back to it. “So, instead of a bodyguard from Williamsburg, you can be a potential client who works in...how about security systems for apartments?”

  “There you go,” he said. “And that works perfectly since I know about the topic.”

  “Right,” I said. “Easy to remember because there’s no need to lie about where you live—that’d be pointless. And if I slip up and say that you work in private security or some such it wouldn’t be weird.”

  “Damn,” he said. “You’re a fast learner.”

  “It’s how I got to where I am,” I said, a small trace of pride to my words.

  “Never let me make the mistake of underestimating you,” he said.

  “Not like I’d give you the chance,” I said right back.

  Then he said nothing, a little smile on those perfectly shaped blood-red lips of his. The contrast of the color of his lips and his skin was striking. They reminded me of flawless rubies floating in a pool of fresh cream.

  And it got me thinking about what he might be able to do with them. A tingle spread from down below and radiated outward. It was strange—I’d met plenty of handsome, successful men in my field. But none of them had had quite this effect on me, this instinctual, primal attraction.

  It seemed out of my control. And that scared me.

  “We’re coming up on the place,” I said, looking past Garrett and out of the window ahead. “You ready to do this?”

  “I’m always ready,” he said. “This is just a networking thing, right? Rubbing elbows?”

  “Indeed it is,” I said. “You’ll be meeting some very wealthy, very powerful people in the city.”

  The venue of the party was a five-story brick building, one of those old-style places built at the beginning of the twentieth century. In front I could make out a long row of expensive luxury cars, their well-dressed occupants pouring out and making their way up the grand set of stairs that led into the place.

  It wasn’t long before it was our turn. The driver opened the door to let us out.

  “You ready to do this?” I asked.

  “After you,” he said with a smile, a smile that I could already tell was going to get me into trouble.

  Chapter Seven

  NATALIE

  “…And don’t even get me started on the whole ‘gentrification’ thing.”

  I had to admit it, I was kind of in awe. I stood next to Garrett, my arm slipped around his, watching him work the half-circle of New York elite gathered in front of us.

  “But that’s New York for you,” he said. “It’s a place full of people who seem to have a sixth sense for what’s fresh and up-and-coming.”

  Pleased, very pleased, smiles broke out across the faces of the handful of men and women. For someone who was used to working with his hands, Garrett sure had a good sense of how to rub elbows. And rule number one—always be flattering—seemed to be at the forefront of his mind.

  “I like to think we have a little something special,” said one of the old-money gray-hairs he was speaking with. “It is why we live in New York after all.”

  The trim, handsome woman on the man’s arm leaned in toward Garrett.

  “We ought to get moving,” she said. “The rounds aren’t going to make themselves. But please, let me know your name again?”

  “Garrett,” he said with a warm, winsome smile. “Garrett Warner.”

  Keep the first name but change the last—a little tweak on the truth.

  “And you have to let us know how to get in touch with you for your security system services,” said her husband. “Do you have a business card we could take?”

  “Garrett doesn’t work with cards or websites,” I said. “When you’re dealing with someone as skilled as him, he’ll come to you.”

  Garrett made a sweeping gesture with his hand toward me, as if saying, “couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  “I’ll be in touch, Mr. and Mrs. Thorne,” he said, letting their names flow off his lips like honey.

  “Sounds lovely,” said Mrs. Thorne.

  They said their goodbyes along with the rest of the group and everyone went their separate ways. A few moments later, it was just Garrett and me among the crowds.

  The venue of the gala was a spectacle of tasteful, elegant old-money opulence. The floors were a shining parquet, the ceiling was vaulted and stretched two dozen feet up, and enormous chandeliers bathed the ballroom in a warm, sensual light.

  Garrett looked like something out of a girl’s dream—composed and confident and dashing. And I’d be telling the lie of the century if I said that I didn’t enjoy having my arm wrapped around his.

  “I have to say, I’m impressed,” I said before taking a sip of the flute of expensive bubbly I had cradled in my hand.

  “This isn’t my first rodeo, as they say,” he said. “When you’re the face of my company and work with the clients I do, you get used to nights like tonight.”

  “That woman you were speaking with, Mrs. Thorne,” I said. “She’s a client my firm’s been trying to court for the last year. She owns a chain of one of the h
ottest boutique clothing stores in the city. And I think you might’ve just won her over.”

  “Does that mean I get a cut?” he asked with a grin.

  “Don’t push your luck, buddy,” I said, punctuating my point with a joking jab of my fingertip to his chest. “I haven’t officially hired you yet.”

  My finger lingered on his chest, and I was acutely aware of how solid the muscles were underneath his shirt. I quickly pulled it away when I realized what I was doing. His eyes flicked down for a moment, and I knew he was aware too.

  I pulled my hand down to my side.

  “Hopefully I’m giving you good reason to sign on the dotted line,” he said.

  “We’ll see,” I said.

  I felt conflicted. On the one hand, Garrett was all that I’d been hoping for in a bodyguard and even a little more. But on the other, I wasn’t used to having someone follow me like this, someone not even giving me a few seconds to myself to think.

  It was his job, I knew. But I was a woman who was used to doing things on my own. Even an event like this was something I had no trouble attending by myself. I wasn’t one of those women who needed a man at my side to feel complete or normal.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” I said, realizing it was the one place I could go and feel somewhat alone, if only for a few minutes.

  Garrett’s eyes quickly scanned the room, pinpointing the location of the bathroom.

  “OK,” he said. “I’ll go with you to the door and wait for you nearby. Try not to spend too much time in there.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked. “What, you think someone’s going to try to off me while I take a pee?”

  The expression on his face remained as serious as could be.

  “You think anyone who wants you dead is going to wait for you to freshen up before they make a move?”

  “OK, OK,” I said. “Point taken.”

  We walked arm-in-arm toward the restroom.

  “I’ll be right over there,” he said, nodding toward the wall to the right of the bathroom. “Come find me as soon as you come out.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  The uniformed woman near the door opened it for me as I approached.