Bodyguard Boyfriend
Tyce’s brow furrowed as he stared down the hallway. “Everybody but the princess. She doesn’t know. She has no association with Luther Mills.” She had no idea how dangerous he was—even in jail.
“She saw that photo,” the chief reminded him as a twinge of regret struck his heart. He should have slid it into that evidence envelope sooner. She hadn’t needed to see that; it had frightened her.
The chief had daughters of his own—ones he’d raised and ones he loved now that they had come into his life since his marriage to Penny Payne. He knew how upset Judge Holmes had to be—to know that his job had put his daughter in danger. Just before the judge had left, Woodrow had assured him that the Payne Protection Agency would keep his child safe.
“She saw the photo,” Tyce said. “But I’m not sure she took it seriously. I’m not sure she takes anything seriously.”
Officers often had to make snap judgments on the job to quickly assess a threat. But Bella Holmes was not a threat to Tyce. Why was he judging her so harshly?
Before the chief could ask him any questions, though, the bodyguard murmured, “I better check on her...” and headed down the hall in the direction she’d gone.
Woodrow was not about to stop him from doing his job. Tyce clearly wasn’t excited that part of the job entailed him pretending to be her boyfriend. To sell that, the big, burly bodyguard might have to hold Bella Holmes’s tiny, sequined clutch.
Woodrow chuckled at the image. He had wondered about the matchups Parker had made between his bodyguards and the persons, or principals, they were protecting. But from his wife, who was Parker Payne’s mother, Woodrow had learned to trust the Payne family instincts. And nobody knew everyone involved better than Parker Payne did. Since he trusted Tyce to be able to protect the judge’s daughter, Woodrow would, too.
A frisson of unease skittered along Tyce’s spine as he started down the hallway. Or maybe that was just the chief’s stare boring into him. He’d pissed off the chief when he’d made those comments about the princess. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself. She was such a damn snob that he just had to tease her a little. Or maybe a lot...
He glanced back. The chief wasn’t looking at him. So that frisson of unease had nothing to do with him. And everything to do with Bella Holmes.
Had she really had to powder her nose? It had looked ridiculously perfect, like everything else about her. But maybe “powder” to her meant what it had when Tyce was undercover. Maybe she wasn’t the perfect little princess her father thought she was.
He knocked on the bathroom door and it popped open from the force of his blow. It was empty. Not even a drop of water in the sink. Nobody had used it recently.
Where the hell had she gone?
He looked around the hall and noticed the door at the end of it. The door opened onto the alley behind the building. And he groaned.
She’d taken off.
Damn it!
He pushed open the door and headed out into the night. He had to find her—before anyone realized he’d lost her. And before any of Luther Mills’s crew found her.
He’d had that feeling back at the ballroom, and the photograph of her at her apartment had proved it. Somebody was watching her.
Maybe just waiting for her to be alone so that she could be hurt, just like that photo had showed.
Chapter 4
“Did Camille explain why I had to leave?” Bella asked as Michael paced across the polished hardwood floor of her living room. She’d meant to text him, but she hadn’t had time. And she’d forgotten because Tyce Jackson had distracted her.
Michael shook his head, but his blond hair was so short and gelled that not a single strand moved with the gesture. “No. I didn’t see Camille. But I saw you leave with that guy,” he said. “I didn’t know you were into that...”
Her face flushed. “Into what?” What the hell did he think Tyce was?
“All I’ve ever seen you do is drink,” he continued. “And that’s usually just one glass of wine.”
“Yes.” While she wasn’t sure where he was going with this, it was true that wine was all she ever drank. Any more than one glass affected her, and tonight of all nights she’d needed all her faculties about her. She certainly hadn’t wanted to be the center of a scene like the one Tyce had caused in the Grand Plaza ballroom.
“But there’s only one reason why Jax would’ve been at the hotel.” Michael stopped pacing to stare at her. Since she’d slipped off her heels, they were the same height. In her heels, she’d been taller.
She knew Michael hated it when she wore heels. But her gown had been too long for her to forego them. And she’d still nearly tripped over it—in her haste to get away from Tyce Jackson.
Tyce had to know by now that she wasn’t in the Payne Protection Agency restroom. How furious was he? Her lips almost curved into a smile, but she forced herself to focus on Michael. What was he talking about?
“Jax?” she asked, repeating the strange name he’d uttered.
“The dealer,” he said as if he expected her to know. “I’ve bought from him myself. It’s been a while, though. I thought he got arrested and sent to prison. Or killed...” He shrugged as if it was of no consequence to him, as if a human life didn’t matter.
She wasn’t sure what really mattered to Michael, though. He was a trust fund baby—like she was. He lived off that money without doing anything to earn any of his own—which wasn’t all that different from how she lived.
Maybe Tyce had been right to call her a princess. But she wasn’t some pampered little girl who did nothing to take care of herself or others. She tried to contribute to society—like her mother had contributed. Her mother had done so much good, had raised money for so many causes, but there hadn’t been enough money to save her from the brain aneurysm that had taken her life.
With a shaky sigh, Bella pushed aside those maudlin thoughts to focus on the man she thought she knew. She and Michael had practically grown up together. His father was a high-profile lawyer who’d attended law school with her father. Their mothers had been in the same sorority, and the couples had maintained a close friendship throughout the years. Despite that friendship, her father had never been a fan of his godson.
“What did you buy from him?” she asked.
“A little X, some Oxy,” he said. “We could have been doing those things together, Bella.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her up against him.
She tensed, and not like she had when Tyce Jackson had pulled her close to him. Michael suddenly felt more like a stranger to her than even Tyce had. Had she ever really known Michael Leach?
“How much do you owe him?” he asked. He was looking at her like he’d never seen her before, either. But for some reason, he seemed to like what he was seeing now more than he had before. “It must be a lot for him to drag you out of there like he did.”
“Owe him?”
“I’ve gotten into him myself,” Michael admitted ruefully. “Jax won’t let you fall that far behind, though. ’Course, he has to answer to Luther Mills if he’s short. That’s why I figured he was dead, like his phone was when I tried calling him up.”
Bella’s head began to pound. She had no idea what the hell Michael was talking about and, apparently, she’d had no idea who he really was.
“Jax?” Was he talking about Tyce? He had to be, since that was the guy with whom she’d left the hotel.
“Yeah, he works for Luther Mills. But then, pretty much everybody does.”
That didn’t make sense. Tyce Jackson was a bodyguard, not a drug dealer. But Michael seemed so certain...
She needed to talk to her father. Or the chief of police. Or the head of the Payne Protection Agency. She had to let them know what she’d learned. But first she had to get rid of Michael.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know any Jax.”
“I could have sworn that was him,” Michael mused, his brow furrowing.
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t associate with a drug dealer. And I didn’t realize that you would, either.”
“Bella—”
“I asked you to meet me here because I thought it was time we ended this casual arrangement we’ve had,” she said. “It never felt right to make it anything more. For either of us.” And now she had the answer that had eluded her all the years they’d known each other—because she hadn’t really known him. Nor had he known her.
“Bella, if this is about the drugs, they’re just recreational for me,” he assured her. “I’m not an addict or anything.”
“I hope you’re not,” she said. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” That was one of the reasons she’d decided to break things off with him tonight. Not just so that her bodyguard could pretend to be her boyfriend but so that her childhood friend wasn’t caught in the cross fire of someone trying to hurt her.
“So you care about me,” Michael said. “I care about you. We are right for each other.”
She shook her head. “I don’t love you. And you don’t love me.”
“Bella—”
She pressed her palm against his chest to push him back like she had Tyce Jackson. She didn’t feel the mass of muscles like she had with Tyce. Just the frantic beating of Michael’s heart.
He really didn’t want to end their relationship. She couldn’t imagine why not. They’d never been in love. But maybe it was because he didn’t want to disappoint his parents. Again. If they knew about his drug use...
She sighed. “Please go.”
He cursed. But he finally turned around and walked out of the apartment.
Bella shivered as she realized how alone she was. She glanced at the windows. The glass was dark. She couldn’t see anything outside. But someone had seen in—had been watching her, had photographed her. Usually she left the blinds open in the living room because she liked the light from the tall windows to brighten the room with its dark wood floor and trim. Even the coffered ceiling had dark beams. And the walls were a deep gray. She’d covered her couch with a white slipcover and a couple of chairs with a print on a white background to brighten the space.
She would have to add more lamps maybe—because she needed to close those blinds. She started across the room toward the windows when a knock rattled the door in the jamb. Michael had only been gone a few moments. He must have decided to return to try to change her mind.
His parents wouldn’t be pleased if they broke up. Her father, though, would be relieved and happy.
“I’m not going to change my mind,” she warned him before she even reached for the knob.
Michael wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted. And for some reason, maybe because he thought she used drugs, too, he thought he wanted her now.
When she opened the door, it wasn’t Michael returning to plead his case for staying together. It was Tyce staring down at her, his strange topaz eyes full of fury.
She tried to slam the door shut, but it bounced off his big boot as he forced his way into her apartment. She hoped he didn’t really work for Luther Mills because he looked mad enough to kill her.
Tyce dropped his duffel bag inside the door and kicked it shut. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he asked. “You know you’ve got to have a bodyguard. Why’d you ditch me?”
Not that he couldn’t guess. He’d arrived some time ago, but it hadn’t been easy for him to get past the security at her door. He’d had to call her father and have him vouch for him. He hadn’t dared have the front desk call Bella; he’d figured she wouldn’t say anything good about him. After riding up in the fancy elevator to her floor and approaching her door, he’d heard the rumble of voices inside the apartment. So he’d waited...and from the shadows of the wide hallway, he’d watched the man leave.
The young guy had looked vaguely familiar to Tyce but probably just because he’d seen him in the ballroom earlier. Was this the Michael she’d asked her assistant to apologize to for her?
Instead of answering, Bella just glared at him. She was beautiful, but beauty alone didn’t impress him after he’d learned—painfully—how shallow that beauty could be. Older and wiser now, he liked women like his former vice cop coworker and current fellow bodyguard, Keeli Abbott. Strong, smart, independent women...
But he hadn’t dated anyone for a while. Working undercover had made it impossible for him to form attachments or have relationships, so he’d shut down his emotions. For so long that he’d forgotten how to feel...
Maybe that was why he reacted to Bella’s face and figure and even the snobby way she looked at him.
He preferred that to the way she’d looked at him when she’d opened that door, though. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“You,” she replied.
“Didn’t you listen to a word anyone said in that meeting?”
Her face, which had been pale moments ago, flushed nearly as dark a red as her lipstick, and he realized she hadn’t been listening. She’d probably been thinking about that damn party or meeting up with the boy who had just left.
He sighed and picked up his duffel from where he’d dropped it just inside the door.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
“I’m staying the night and every damn night until the trial’s over.” He glanced at the couch. It was all slipcovered and fancy but at least it was long. His legs would only hang off it a little.
“Why do you want to stay here?” she asked.
“I don’t want to,” he corrected her. “I have to because my boss ordered me to.”
“Which boss?” she asked.
Apparently she hadn’t been paying any attention at all during that meeting. Or she was just too much of an airhead to realize how protection duty worked. “Parker Payne.”
She shook her head. “Not that boss.”
Was she talking about the chief? Tyce had never worked under Woodrow Lynch before. He had already left River City PD before the former FBI Bureau chief had accepted the top cop position.
“Parker is my only boss,” he assured her. “I don’t work for anyone else.”
“You used to,” she said.
Somehow he didn’t think she was talking about River City PD. What was wrong with her? He hadn’t noticed a glass in her hand when he’d showed up at the Grand Plaza ballroom. But she might have had a few drinks before he’d arrived.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with a sigh, “so you might as well tell me.”
“I was told you worked for Luther Mills.”
He sucked in a breath like she’d sucker punched him. “What the hell are you...?” Then he realized from where he’d recognized the little friend he’d seen leaving her apartment. And he groaned.
“You didn’t think I would find out that you used to deal drugs?”
He shook his head. “I guess I should have realized a party girl like you would know what I’d done.”
“So you have dealt drugs for Luther Mills,” she said. “Did he send you after me? Are you the one who took that photo my father received?”
“Princess, I wouldn’t waste my time taking pictures.” He stepped closer.
She quickly jumped back, but the foyer wall was behind her. And he was against her front. “Wh-what would you do?” she stammered, her green eyes wide again—with fear.
He wanted to do something to her, but it wasn’t to hurt her. He didn’t want to scare her, either, so he forced himself to step back. “I am your bodyguard,” he said. “It’s my job to protect you.”
“B-but what about—”
“The dealing?” That tight knot in his gut came back—the one he had whenever he thought of his years with the vice unit. “I was undercover. Before I became a bodyguard, I was a vice cop. I wasn’t working for Luther Mills. I was trying to bring him down.” Even before he’d become a cop, he’d worked as an informant for River City PD.
“Couldn’t you testify against him—that he was your boss?” she asked.
Tyce shook his head. “He’s too smart. He ran his organization with a lot of middlemen. That’s who I ‘worked for’ and I did bring down a few of them. They wouldn’t give up Mills, though. So your father sentenced them.”
“That’s how you know my father.”
He nodded. Tyce had always liked the judge. He appreciated that the old man was a hard-ass when it came to drugs and especially to murder. That was, no doubt, why Luther had threatened his daughter. Bella was the killer’s only hope for getting to the judge.
Tyce just had to make sure that Bella didn’t get to him. He was her bodyguard.
Just her bodyguard...
Luther couldn’t sleep and it wasn’t just because of the jailhouse mattress being too thin and uncomfortable. He had an odd feeling.
First, Clint Quarters had showed up just as he was about to have the eyewitness taken out. And Wendy Thompson, the evidence tech, seemed to have disappeared from her place, as well. And then the spy he had close to the judge’s daughter had reported some guy crashing her latest party...
A guy who hadn’t looked like he belonged at some fancy ball, obviously. He hadn’t looked like a cop, either—according to the spy.
But cops didn’t always look like cops. They didn’t always act like them, either—which was good for Luther since he’d been able to buy quite a few of them.
Then again, there had been the cops he hadn’t been able to buy or threaten. They were, or had been, vice cops with River City PD—like Clint Quarters. After Luther had murdered his little informant, Quarters had quit. He hadn’t been the one who’d arrested him for Javier Mendez’s murder, though. Spencer Dubridge had done that, and Luther intended to deal with him.
Hell, he intended to deal with all of them—eventually.
First, he had to get these damn charges tossed out. He’d intended to start with eliminating the eyewitness, then the evidence...
And if that didn’t work, he had the spy who could help him get to the judge’s daughter whenever he wanted. But who else had gotten to her at that ball?
Was it a cop who didn’t look like a cop? Or somebody who’d once been a cop?
Luther didn’t really care who it was. If the guy got in his way, he’d wind up dead.
Chapter 5
Some bodyguard he’d turned out to be...
He was so sound asleep that he looked dead to Bella. Maybe trying to fit on the too small couch had killed him. His legs dangled over the arm of it. She had a guest room with a queen bed, but she’d been so angry with him barging into her apartment that she hadn’t offered it to him. She felt a twinge of regret now.
He couldn’t have been comfortable last night. So how was he sleeping?
She stepped closer to the couch and stared down at him, checking to see if his massive chest rose and fell with any breaths. He’d taken off his jacket. And his shirt...
Only soft-looking black hair covered the sculpted muscles. Her breath stopped in her throat, where her pulse pounded madly. She hadn’t even given him a blanket last night. Wasn’t he cold? She had been; that was why she’d wrapped a warm robe around her. It suddenly felt too warm now as heat rushed over her.
Bella couldn’t tell if his chest was moving, but hers was, as she had to almost pant for air after holding her breath for so long.
How could he sleep so soundly? Had he passed out from something? Alcohol? The drugs he used to sell?
She hadn’t felt very safe the night before, hadn’t been able to sleep very well even with her bedroom door locked. She hadn’t been worried about Luther Mills. She’d been worried about Tyce Jackson.
He was so big—with such an aura of danger around him. Sure, he was supposed to protect her, but... She shivered again despite the heat suffusing her. He had not moved yet.
“So much for protecting me...” she murmured as she started around the couch toward the kitchen.
She didn’t make it past him before a hand shot out and jerked her down—on top of him. A small scream of alarm slipped through her lips before his hand covered her mouth. To catch herself, she’d automatically reached out, so her hands were pressed against his chest. The hair dusting his muscles was as soft as it looked, tickling her palms, while the skin was warm and smooth. His heart pounded hard and fast beneath one palm. She straightened her arms, trying to push herself up, but as she moved, her hips shifted against him and she felt his reaction to her closeness.
A gasp slipped out against his hand. He moved it from her mouth—slowly, though, so that his palm brushed across her lips. Her heart began to pound even faster.
She’d been smart to lock her bedroom door. But now she didn’t know if she’d done it to keep him out or herself inside. She couldn’t actually be attracted to him, though. With his bushy beard and long hair, she could barely see his face—just his light gold, heavily lashed eyes staring up at her.
No. Tyce Jackson was not her type at all. He was too big. Too uncouth.
Too exciting.
Tyce was tempted to show Bella Holmes just how awake he was and how much he wanted her. But he had a feeling she already knew, especially when she squirmed against him again. His body couldn’t help reacting to the closeness of hers. She was so soft, so warm...
She was also damn beautiful, even more so than she’d been the night before. Her red lipstick was gone, but her lips were full and a deep, natural pink. Her cheekbones needed no blush to highlight their sharpness. Her eyes...the green was so bright, the lashes so naturally thick and dark. And her hair hung down around her shoulders like a pale gold silk curtain. Strands of it brushed across his hand and his chest. It was even longer than he’d realized, and he’d never felt anything so soft against his skin.
“I—I thought you were sleeping,” she murmured.
He shook his head. He hadn’t been able to sleep, and not just because she was so damn close and so beautiful, but because of that photograph. It had been taken through her apartment window. Someone was watching her for Luther.
“Your eyes were closed.”
He’d closed them when he’d heard her bedroom door creak open; he’d been playing with her, to see what she’d do.
She’d watched him for a while. Had she liked what she’d seen?
She squirmed against him again, pushing herself off his chest. She slid onto the floor before scrambling to her feet. Apparently she hadn’t liked what she’d seen, or felt, enough to stay on top of him.
He swallowed a groan. Yeah, this assignment—and Bella Holmes—was going to be a pain in his ass.
“Well, you need to get up,” she said.
He was—his body aching with the need for release. But he was damn well not going to find that with her. He wouldn’t cross the line with a client, especially the judge’s daughter. Even though he didn’t have much respect for the princess, he respected Judge Holmes.
“I have a busy schedule today.”
He closed his eyes again. “Isn’t it a little early for parties?” he asked.
“I have a luncheon I need to attend as well as following up on last night’s fund-raiser.”
He groaned.
“Then there’s another event tonight...”
He groaned louder.
“This isn’t going to work,” she said.
He couldn’t agree more. “No. You need to skip all the parties for a while and go away somewhere.”
“I can’t,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked. “It’s not like you have a job like everybody else Luther Mills is threatening.”