Guarding Him Read online

  “Your sister is worried about the accident with Mrs. Jones, and this is the biggest contract that your company has gone after. I haven’t seen the specs on the design work, but I would imagine they’d be worth killing for.”

  “The threats we’ve received are the normal ones sent by kooks that think we plant listening devices everywhere,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

  “Well, then this may be one of the easiest jobs I’ve had in a while.” Standing, she grabbed her case and said briskly, “Why don’t you show me to my new desk and let me acquaint myself with the programs.”

  She was all business from that point on, and that suited Ian just fine. He needed some distance from the beautiful woman who would be living with him for the undetermined future. He had her settled at Miriam’s desk, and in no time, she was burning through files and getting up to speed.

  Ian was at loose ends, and that was odd. His desk was clean, his files up to date, and with the charity dinner tonight, he had no plans to work late. Instead, he sat and watched his new Admin. Assistant/bodyguard. She was capable and unfazed by what she must consider menial tasks. She answered the phone, jotted down notes about his schedule for the next week, and acted as if he weren’t even in the room.

  Being ignored was somewhat disconcerting. Women never ignored him; in fact, he was used to being the center of unwanted attention. He wouldn’t have minded a bit more attention from her, but she never so much as glanced at him.

  Damn. This was going to be harder than he thought.

  Chapter 3

  Nestor Pacheco wasn’t a good guy. He’d never been an especially bad guy, not having killed anyone, but he was working up to it. Murder paid more and beat skulking around convenience stores at night in the cold, waiting for the perfect moment to rob the place. Of course, like everything in Nestor’s life, his current job wasn’t going well.

  That secretary woman was supposed to die in the car wreck, but the old bat managed to survive. And he’d rigged the accelerator and brakes real good, too. Now he was stuck watching the old lady’s house, waiting to break in and find out if she left any files out. Or take her computer if it was there. It was a fuck up, pure and simple. And he blamed the woman.

  She wasn’t supposed to get on the freeway that day because she was supposed to be headed home. Instead, she’d been in the middle of heavy traffic in Oakland when she hit the wall. Right where he couldn’t search the damn car, even posing as a concerned bystander. Things like this seemed to plague Nestor, and he’d never really understood why. He was just trying to get along in the world like everyone else, but for some reason, his lot was harder.

  He settled back into the seat of the white cargo van, scooting forward so the loose spring wouldn’t stab him in the ass. The van belonged to his cousin, Hector, and smelled like sweat and flowers. Hector did all kinds of odd jobs, but his most consistent was delivering flowers part-time. It wasn’t a bad surveillance vehicle since no one tended to give delivery vans much notice. Plus, there were no decals on the sides—so he could pose as just about anything if nosy neighbors came out to investigate.

  Nestor fumbled around in his pocket and found a joint and a lighter. Since he was going to be there until dark, he might as well get peaceful. His cousin also sold a little weed on the side, but not enough to draw any notice from either cops or competition. Taking a long drag, he pulled the sweet smoke into his lungs just as his phone beeped.

  “Yeah?” he answered.

  “What’s happening?” The voice was modified by one of those gadgets, but Nestor didn’t care. If the guy wanted to be that cautious, then he must have a lot to lose.

  “Nothing yet, man. I can’t go breaking into the lady’s house in the daylight.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it draws too much attention. Unless you want to pay me more?” He let the question hang in the air. He’d risk it if the pay increased.

  “Greedy. You’re being paid enough,” the voice said. “Besides, you already fucked up once. You do it again, and you won’t get anything.”

  Nestor grinned and shrugged. He was just fine going home and getting really high, but the client didn’t need to know that. Besides, the money was decent, and his old lady, Carla, was getting pissed at him for not “providing” lately. “I hear ya. Don’t worry, man; I’ll get inside tonight and check around.”

  “Call me as soon as you have something.”

  The call disconnected, and Nestor tossed his phone on the passenger seat. He figured the guy was white and well off because who else would go through all the trouble of disguising his voice? He’d take another five minutes to finish off the joint, and then he’d lie down and take a nap in the back. There was a stack of moving blankets that looked comfortable enough. Might as well sleep now since he had a late night ahead of him.

  * * *

  “Time to go,” Ian announced.

  Nic blinked and realized that she’d been hyper-focused on the schematics in front of her. Looking up, she saw that her client stood at the door, briefcase in hand, and an impatient look on his face. “Let me close this down, and I’ll be right there. I can meet you in the lobby if you prefer?”

  “I’ll wait,” he said.

  Nic hid a smile. It was going to be an interesting evening. Packing some notes and snapping her own briefcase closed, she stood and walked toward the waiting man. The elevator ride was silent, but Nic could feel the occasional glance her way—probably trying to figure her out. Those questions would come eventually, but for the moment, they had to get home and get changed.

  The bubbly girl at the front desk looked up and smiled. “Goodnight, Mr. Jamison, Ms. Montgomery.”

  “Goodnight, Chelsea,” he murmured, not breaking stride toward the parking lot. “I’m the Lexus,” he said, pointing out the sleek pearl-gray sedan once they were outside.

  “You don’t really strike me as a Lexus,” Nic said. She cocked her head and considered him. “More of a low-slung foreign sports car, but the Lexus is nice.” She went around to the passenger door and raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’d like me to drive?”

  He looked surprised. “I just assumed you had your own car.”

  “I did, but it was picked up almost as soon as I arrived. From now on, you and I will be in one car and occupying the same space until this is over.”

  “That seems excessive and seriously lacking in privacy.”

  Nic shrugged and settled into the plush leather seat. “Around the home and office, you’re welcome to ignore me as you see fit. When we’re out in public, then you’ll need to defer to my caution. Your dossier says you’re not in a current relationship, but if you have a new woman in your life, then we’ll work around it.”

  It was a matter of fact statement, and one she’d given many times to many clients, but this time, it gave her a quiet little pang to think of being in the same house with Ian and another woman. It was a quick thing and gone before she could analyze it, but it was odd for her. She didn’t usually think of her clients that way. Ever. And yet, this one was proving a tricky exception.

  “I appreciate the candor.”

  It was all he said, and Nic couldn’t help but wish he’d talk more. She liked the sound of his voice. It was a smoky baritone with no discernable accent. “Are you going to be uptight the whole time?” She threw it out like the first parry of a sword fight. He was wound a bit tight, and she was curious how he’d react, especially since they’d both been acting like a couple of stiffs.

  “Depends on whether my protection extends to the bathroom or not.”

  “Well, if you need me to hold it for you, then you’ve got bigger problems than personal threats.”

  His mouth hung open for the smallest of moments and then snapped shut. He recovered quickly and, in Nic’s opinion, better than she’d expected. “I’ll reassess my bathroom skills and keep you informed.” There was a sense of humor lurking in the dark depths of Ian’s eyes, and Nic thought that if he actually smiled, he’d
be devastating.

  Turning the subject seemed best as he started up the car. “How do you typically get home?”

  His hand was on the shift, ready to pull out, but he paused and glanced her way. “You want me to vary my route?”

  “Yes, I do. Going the same way home every day makes you an easy target. Do you make the same stops on the way, or do you go straight home?”

  “I usually go home and then go back out if needed.”

  “Alright. Let’s go see your place.”

  Nic relaxed into the leather seat during the drive, scanning the more obvious places to pick up a tail. She didn’t really expect to see anyone, especially since this was a new route, but it never hurt to be vigilant. She could feel Ian’s glance more than once, but she relegated that knowledge to the back of her mind while she focused on the drive.

  They arrived on Franklin Street in the very exclusive Knob Hill district. She’d driven by the house before, so the impressive zip code didn’t cause a stir. Besides, she’d grown up in a mansion that she privately thought of as the “mausoleum.” It was three times the size of the one in front of her. Wealth made life easier, but it didn’t make a home.

  Four stories of brick, built sometime after the great quake and fire, the architecture was lovely and uniquely San Francisco. The inside ended up being even more impressive with original wood floors and moldings.

  “It’s a beautiful place,” Nic said because it was, and she felt like she needed to say something after being so quiet on the drive.

  “It’s showy,” he shrugged, “but I wanted space and luxury.”

  “I’d say you accomplished your goal.” She tried to keep her tone from being dismissive but knew she failed when he shot her a look.

  “You don’t approve,” Ian said with wonder as if her being impressed was a given.

  It was Nic’s turn to shrug. “It’s not my thing, and it’s not my place to judge. What floor is your bedroom on?”

  “I’m on the fourth floor.”

  “Perfect, is there a bedroom on the second floor?”

  His eyebrow knit, and he nodded. “It’s a smaller room than I would have put you in.”

  Nic waved away his concern. “That will be perfect. Why don’t you give me the nickel tour, so I don’t get lost in the middle of the night.”

  “Are you going to be wandering the house in the middle of the night?”

  She nodded. “It’s a habit, but don’t worry, you won’t even know I’m here.”

  “I doubt it,” he muttered.

  It was only slightly under his breath, but she pretended not to notice. Instead, she gestured for him to lead the way as he took her through his luxury mansion. The kitchen was a dream, if only she liked to cook. There was a library full of expensive leather-bound editions of Lord only knew what. It looked like a showroom, not like Ian spent time there. The whole place was tastefully decorated but didn’t feel like a home. It rubbed her the wrong way, but really, why did she care that Ian chose to live in a beautiful tomb?

  On the third floor, she found a home gym with all the latest equipment. “Now, this, I like,” she said in appreciation.

  That eyebrow rose again. Seemed she was destined to supply continual surprises to her client. “I don’t like working out around others.”

  Nic looked him over. “Because you were a skinny kid who got picked on in school?”

  “Something like that.”

  He turned quickly and continued with the tour. Ouch. It got a couple of degrees cooler, but Nic didn’t bother to suppress her smile. Getting under Ian’s skin was fun, and he was a man in serious need of lightening up.

  The fourth floor mirrored Ian’s office in many ways and was clearly where he spent the majority of his time. The master bedroom was half the floor and lightly cluttered in a way that let Nic know that he liked spending time there. She didn’t want to intrude, but in the quick glance around, she spotted family photos, small keepsakes on the dresser, and artwork that didn’t quite fit with the careful decorating scheme of the lower levels. A large office and a second master-sized bedroom completed the floor.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in here?” he asked, motioning to the second room. It was more feminine in terms of color palate and dainty antique furniture.

  “No, thanks. It looks like someplace a mistress would go once she’d rendered her services.” She turned and caught the ghost of a smile. It was gone before she could really be sure, but the eyebrow was up for certain. Nic was beginning to think it was going to be a permanent look on his face, well, for as long as she was needed.

  “My sister stays in that room on occasion,” he said dryly. “I’ll be glad to let her know your opinion.”

  Nic smiled up at him. “Make sure I’m in the room when you tell her.”

  “Are you deliberately trying to make me uncomfortable?”

  “Is it working?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Maybe.”

  Nic’s cell beeped, and she dug it out of her bag.

  Delivery in 5 mins – L.

  Good, Lindsay was on her way with Nic’s bags. “That’s one of my associates; she’ll be here in a few minutes with my gear. Also, there should be a dress for me somewhere, according to Isobel.”

  “And shoes being delivered as well, I was informed,” he said.

  Nic found her way back to the stairs and started down. “Where do you think she would have put the dress? I might as well make sure it fits, just in case.”

  “How about we relax for a couple of moments, and I make us a drink?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t drink while on the job, and besides, you know women take forever to get ready for an evening out.”

  “Somehow, I think you’ll be the exception.”

  It was true, and she was a little surprised that he guessed it about her. Ian showed her to a coat closet near the entrance, and there was indeed a black dress bag inside. The doorbell rang at that moment, and Nic put her hand inside her purse, having already moved her gun from the briefcase to her bag.

  “I’ll get it,” she said.

  The door swung open, and a wide-eyed Lindsay stood there, looking like a gawking teenager. Her long blonde hair was in the usual braid, and she didn’t usually wear make-up, making her look a lot younger than her twenty-two years.

  “Wow,” she said. “Nice digs for a job, right?”

  Nic opened the door wider so that Lindsay had a clear view of Ian standing on the other side of the door. “This is our client, Ian Jamison. Ian, this is Lindsay Clarke.”

  He nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

  Lindsay blushed, and her cornflower blue eyes widened as she took him in. “Likewise,” she mumbled.

  Kei was going to have to work on the girl a bit more. Lindsay looked about as tough as a Labrador puppy. Nic grabbed one bag, and Lindsay grabbed the other and came inside. Down the hall and up the stairs, all Nic heard was “wow,” every time the kid saw something new.

  “Oh, my God, he’s hot,” she whispered once they were inside the room Nic had decided on. It was smaller than the others, and while it had the same impersonal décor as the rest of the house, it was less dainty somehow.

  “Is he?”

  Lindsay spun around to get a look at Nic’s face. “You really didn’t notice?”

  Nic sighed. Lindsay had so much to learn. “He’s a job, not a summer romance. If you’re going to be successful as a bodyguard, you can’t get personally involved. It’s bad for business in just about every way.”

  Lindsay nodded, but Nic could tell she was only half-listening. “Right. Bad for business.” Her voice had taken on a dreamy quality.

  Nic put her hand on the girl’s shoulder to get her attention. “Having feelings for a client could get you, and them, killed. Remember that, and you’ll be okay.”

  “Is that what happened…?” she trailed off and flushed from her neck to her ears.

  Gritting her teeth, Nic said, “Never mix
business with pleasure.”

  Lindsay nodded, her eyes sliding away to focus on the painting over Nic’s shoulder. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have. We all have things we’d rather not talk about, and if you stay in this business long enough, you will too.”

  The girl nodded. Nic led the way to the front door again, just as the bell rang. She nodded to Lindsay, who took point. Lindsay’s revolver was holstered at the small of her back, under her jacket, so with one hand on that and the other on the door, Lindsay opened the door a crack.

  “Can I help you?”

  There was a reply, and Lindsay’s body relaxed. Nic was trying to give her as much experience handling certain aspects of the job as she could because she liked the girl. Box in hand, Lindsay pulled back into the house and shut the door.

  “These are apparently the shoes that go with your dress,” she said.

  “Perfect, I was expecting these.”

  “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. Call if you need anything,” Lindsay said, taking one more look around. When she was gone, Nic locked up, placed the shoes on the side table in the foyer, and set about checking the security of the place.

  Lindsay had struck a nerve with her almost-question. Unconsciously, Nic reached up and rubbed her shoulder. Getting involved with a client wasn’t a good idea, and loving one could turn deadly. Nic had lost her objectivity on the last case. She was a professional, and she could look at it unemotionally now that time had passed. She’d fucked up, pure and simple, and it was never happening again.

  Ever.

  Chapter 4

  At six-thirty, Ian waited patiently in the formal sitting area off the foyer. The charity event didn’t start for another half hour, which meant he wasn’t likely to see his bodyguard until that moment. He was basing this estimate on his mother and sister, who always took every last moment to dress, do hair, and makeup.