Bodyguard With A Badge

Even her own parents hadn’t just blindly believed her when she’d tried to ask them for advice. They’d insisted she must have misunderstood what was happening. Then, they’d gone back to their own lives in England and hadn’t bothered to check back in with her. She wondered what they thought now, if they’d heard about her in the news during the three years since she’d disappeared, and tried to push down the guilt.

“Start where exactly?” Juliette asked. “I wish I did, but I don’t have any proof of the payoff.”

“Well, technically, you do. Your eyewitness testimony,” Cole said. “But that’s not actually what I meant. I think we should investigate this attempt on your life. These cons took a payment for it, right?”

Andre nodded.

“So, there’s a trail. We just need to find it.”

“How?” Marcos asked. “We don’t exactly have the legal authority to go for a warrant. This isn’t our case. But I’m sure the Bureau will be doing that. What about Scott? Can he help?”

“I want to give him plausible deniability here,” Andre replied. “He doesn’t know Juliette came home with me. Right now, the FBI is searching for her. I don’t want him to need to lie for me. Besides, HRT won’t be handling the criminal investigation. That’ll get handed off to the Washington Field Office.”

“So, ask the WFO agents,” Marcos suggested. “They’ll share, won’t they?”

“If they can find the money trail,” Cole said. “But if these criminals don’t even know who paid them, I’m betting it’s pretty hidden. I know someone who can help.”

“Shaye?” Marcos guessed, that same smile flickering on the corners of his lips that had been there when he’d spotted her in Andre’s entryway.

“Yes, Shaye,” Cole replied.

“You sure this isn’t an excuse to see her again?” Marcos teased.

“Whether it is or not,” Andre jumped in, “Cole is right.” He looked at Juliette. “Shaye Mallory is some kind of computer forensics genius who used to work for Cole’s department. If anyone can find a trail, it’s her. Ask her,” he told Cole. “But make sure she’s careful. I don’t want to spread it around why we’re digging.”

“Not a problem,” he said, sitting a little straighter.

Even Juliette could tell he had a crush on this woman. The only question was why Shaye hadn’t jumped at the chance to go out with him. She glanced between the brothers. The same was true of all three of them. What if Andre had a girlfriend? Maybe she’d misread his intent to ask her out when he’d saved her life in the woods this morning.

Wow, had it really been less than twenty-four hours since she’d been on her way to work, thinking everything was going to be normal today? Exhaustion hit so hard she couldn’t stop herself from sinking into the cushions.

“I think that’s our cue,” Cole said.

“You take the big hardship and talk to Shaye,” Marcos teased Cole, “and I’ll start digging into the Manning murder, see if I can get any traction there.”

“And I’ll check into Dylan Keane,” Andre said, a determined edge to his voice.

It wasn’t until Andre stood to walk his brothers to the door that Juliette realized they were leaving because of her. She tried to sit upright again, get focused, but the stress of the day had finally caught up to her, and her body didn’t want to obey.

“Thank you,” she called after them.

Then Andre was back, scooping her off the couch as if she weighed nothing.

She squeaked—actually squeaked—with surprise and looped her arms around his neck for stability. He smelled vaguely of the woods he’d been running through this morning. On him, the scent of pine managed to be an aphrodisiac. Her voice came out breathy when she asked, “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed.”

Suddenly, she wasn’t tired at all. Her body came alive, sensitive to every inch of his arms looped under her back and knees, the solid warmth of his chest pressed against her side. She looked up to discover his face was much closer than she’d expected. If she just tilted her head back and snuggled closer, she could trace her lips over the adorable cleft in his chin, over the tiny dots of scruff just starting to come in, to his mouth.

Her throat went dry at the thought, and her pulse picked up until surely he could feel it. When his gaze met hers, his pupils instantly dilated.

She stared up at him, anxious for him to dip his head and kiss her but not wanting to break the anticipation. She let her gaze slide down to his lips and then back up to his eyes, so there was no mistaking what she wanted.

Some logical part of her was screaming a warning about the last time she’d taken a chance on a man in law enforcement, but logic was not winning against the desire in Andre’s eyes. She could feel the pace of his breathing change beneath her, and his fingers curled into her arm and her leg where he held her. His head lowered, infinitesimally slowly.

Just when she was gripping his shirt to pull herself toward him, he straightened and picked up his pace, striding into a room and dropping her on the center of the bed.

Surprise made her laugh, then nerves kicked in. Kissing Andre was one thing, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for anything more.

But he was already backing out of the room. “You should get some sleep,” he said, then disappeared through the doorway, leaving Juliette alone.

* * *

ANDRE SWORE UNDER his breath as he paced back and forth in the kitchen, forcing himself to stay away from the guest bedroom where he’d just deposited Juliette. He didn’t know what had happened. Despite his attraction to her, his intent had been innocent when he’d picked her up. She was obviously exhausted. He’d planned to let her get some rest.

Then she’d stared up at him as if she wanted to devour him. The memory of it heated him until he opened his freezer and stood in front of it to cool down.

What was it about this woman?

Yes, she was gorgeous, but he knew plenty of beautiful women. And yes, he had a definite thing for a damsel in distress, but despite the challenges Juliette had obviously faced, she wasn’t exactly screaming for someone to save her. The woman had stolen a gun off a federal agent, for crying out loud.

He squinted over at the couch where she’d been sitting and realized he hadn’t imagined it. When he’d lifted her, the gun had dropped unnoticed out of her pocket.

Andre slammed the freezer shut, then walked over and picked it up. He went to empty the bullets and realized there were none. A startled laugh burst forth. Juliette had taken him hostage with an unloaded weapon.

He knew it had been loaded when she’d swiped it off Nadia at Quantico, which meant she’d purposely emptied it before holding it on him. He wasn’t sure if that made the whole situation better or worse, but he took the gun into his room and locked it up.

Then he sank down on the edge of the bed, hearing Juliette toss and turn on the other side of the wall. He should have been polite and offered her a change of clothes to sleep in, a towel and some toiletries to take a shower. But he’d been too desperate to get out of there before he acted on their mutual attraction.

It was bad enough that he’d let her into his house and promised to help her evade the law. He didn’t need to jump into bed with her, too. Because if he did, he’d get way too entangled. And no matter how much he might want to, he was still thinking logically enough to know it was a bad idea.

There wasn’t a good ending here. Even if he helped Juliette prove her ex-husband was guilty, there was still the matter of her stealing Nadia’s weapon and him hiding her from the FBI. If he got involved with Juliette, there’d be even more hell to pay.

As if on cue, his phone rang and the readout said it was Scott.

Andre didn’t have to pick up to know why Scott was calling him back. Somehow, he’d figured out where Juliette had gone.

“I can explain,” he answered the phone.

“Well, that’s good, because Bobby said he thought he saw you on the freeway with this Juliette woman in your passenger seat.”

Bobby was one of their friends on HRT, a monster of a guy who still managed to beat most of the team running the Yellow Brick Road at Quantico.

“I said that couldn’t possibly be true,” Scott continued, “because Juliette—or should I call her Mya?—was on the run, and the FBI was searching for her!”

“There’s more to the story than you think.”

“Well, there better be, because I don’t think the FBI is going to appreciate one of their own agents hiding a fugitive.”

“She was the victim,” Andre reminded him.

“Until she took a weapon off a federal agent,” Scott shot back.

Keeping her other illegal action under wraps, Andre said, “She emptied the bullets. You’ll probably find them in the parking lot.”

“Great. She still stole the gun. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when you called before, but she’s in trouble, okay?”

“So you gave her a lift off FBI property and hid her when you found out she’d snatched Nadia’s weapon?”

“Not exactly. I’m just trying to help her. Her ex-husband is the cop who hired those goons to kill her.”

There was a beat of silence, then Scott asked, “Can she prove it?”

“If she could prove it, do you think she’d be running?”

“Touché. Well, don’t you think she’s better off in FBI custody, where we can keep her safe?”

“I’m keeping her safe.”

Scott swore. “This isn’t exactly a career-advancing move you’re making here.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I mean, you could be in serious trouble. If she’s in danger, the FBI will help her, but she can’t just take an agent’s weapon.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Andre snapped.

“I’m just trying to help you,” Scott said softly. “What do you really know about this woman? Don’t mess up your career for her.”

Scott’s argument was perfectly logical. Andre knew he was right. But still... “I can’t walk away from her. She’s totally alone, and she’s got a cop gunning for her.”

Although Andre had never found himself in her particular predicament, he did know exactly what it was like to be all alone in the world, and to feel as if the people who were supposed to help you had turned their backs. He’d gotten lucky, moving into the foster home with Cole and Marcos when he was nine. Before that, after his family had died, was a time he didn’t want to think about too much.

The abuse had been sporadic. He’d think everything was fine, and then out of the blue, his foster father would knock him down the stairs. He’d tried to get help, but the person he’d told hadn’t believed him, and he’d been too young to realize he should try again. Instead, he’d learned to be invisible.

Four years after he’d been put in that house, social services had gotten suspicious. They’d taken all the kids away, and Andre had been moved somewhere else. He’d expected the same thing, but instead, that very first day, Cole had somehow known what he’d been through. He’d told Andre that things would be different now, because he had a big brother to watch out for him.

The memories faded as Andre realized Scott had been saying something. “Sorry. What?”

There was an audible sigh on the other end of the line. “What can I do?”

“I was trying to keep you out of it. I don’t want to mess you up here.”

“Yeah, well, I should have realized earlier you avoided my question about whether you’d seen Juliette leave Quantico. I’m in it now. We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Andre smiled, knowing how lucky he’d been to have had Scott assigned as his partner. He’d gotten a whole new brother that day. “Thanks, man.”

“Just try not to get us both kicked off the team for this, okay?”

Scott’s tone was light, but Andre knew it was no joke. “We need to find the proof to connect her ex to the attempt on her life. And tomorrow, when I come in, I’ll bring Nadia’s weapon. I’ll say I found it in the parking lot. It will be kind of true.”

“You’re coming in tomorrow?” Scott asked. “What about Juliette?” He paused. “Or do I call her Mya?”

“Juliette.” Andre frowned. “Good point. I shouldn’t leave her by herself. I doubt Keane could track her to my place, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Keane? That’s his name?”

“Yeah. Dylan Keane. He’s a cop out of Pennsylvania. She saw him take a payoff connected to the murder of Kent Manning.”

Scott swore. “Okay, tomorrow I’ll go see my fiancée and my sister at WFO, then use it as an excuse to drop in on the case agents, try to whisper that name in their ears and see what pops.”

“I’m going to see what I can find from here.”

“Good luck. And, Andre?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to fall for this woman.”

Too late. Instead of blurting his instant reaction, Andre replied, “I’ll do my best. Thanks for the help.”

Then he opened up his laptop. “All right, Dylan Keane. Time to dig up your skeletons.”

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