The Protectors

One glance is all it takes

From the moment his eyes meet hers across the crime-scene tape, ex-con turned bodyguard Quasar Patterson knows he has to see the mysterious Dr. Randi Fuller again. She’s a renowned psychic investigator who can foresee danger for others, but not for herself. That makes Quasar doubly determined to watch over her—the closer, the better—as she’s drawn into a dangerous gang rivalry.

Both her psychic gift and their blinding chemistry tell Randi that she and Quasar are fated to be entwined. Even as they surrender to the heat between them, there’s no guarantee of a happily-ever-after now that an enemy has her in his sights. And claiming a future will take more than Quasar’s strength and skill. If he can’t risk the heart he’s always held in check, they’ll both lose for good...

Praise for Brenda Jackson

“The only flaw of this first-rate, satisfying sexy tale is that it ends.”

—Publishers Weekly, starred review, on Forged in Desire

“Leave it to Jackson to take sizzle and honor, wrap it in romance and come up with a first-rate tale.”

—RT Book Reviews on Temptation

“Brenda Jackson is the queen of newly discovered love... If there’s one thing Jackson knows how to do, it’s how to pluck those heartstrings and stir up some seriously saucy drama.”

—BookPage on Inseparable

“[Jackson] proves once again that she rocks when it comes to crafting family drama with a healthy dose of humor and steamy, sweaty sex. Here’s another winner.”

—RT Book Reviews on A Brother’s Honor, 4½ stars, Top Pick

“This deliciously sensual romance ramps up the emotional stakes and the action.... [S]exy and sizzling.”

—Library Journal on Intimate Seduction

“Jackson does not disappoint...first-class page-turner.”

—RT Book Reviews on A Silken Thread, 4½ stars, Top Pick

“Jackson is a master at writing.”

—Publishers Weekly on Sensual Confessions

Seized by Seduction

Brenda Jackson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To the man who will always and forever be the love of my life, Gerald Jackson, Sr.

To all my readers who after reading The Grangers Series wanted more. This book is especially for you.

And to my readers who will accompany me to Barbados for Brenda Jackson Readers Reunion 2017.

I appreciate you from the bottom of my heart for your love, encouragement and support.

For none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself.

—Romans 14:7

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

QUASAR PATTERSON WAS a man who appreciated anything female, which was why his gaze was focused on the woman standing within the perimeters of the crime scene tape. He didn’t know her identity, but the one thing he did know was that she was definitely a looker. She was so striking that he felt a scorching sensation in his eyes from staring at her. And he was convinced it had nothing to do with him having run out of a burning mountain cabin in the Shenandoah Valley just a short while ago. He would lay the blame solely at her feet. Even from a distance her facial features were so captivating, so mesmerizingly beautiful, he felt an intense stirring in his gut.

Her skin appeared the color of creamy cocoa with a sensual pair of cheekbones, well-shaped lips, a delicate nose and dark eyes that were either black or brown. From where he was standing he couldn’t be certain. Regardless of their color, her eyes made the entirety of her facial features exquisite.

Long, straight black hair fell to her shoulders, and even from across the yard it looked thick and silky. The kind a man would want to run his fingers through...or better yet, grip while thrusting hard inside her. He usually preferred a woman with bigger breasts but concluded hers were perfect for her size. The lush curves outlined in the dark slacks and short leather jacket she wore were appealing as hell.

He’d first seen her after running from the burning house with his friend Stonewall Courson. He and Stonewall hadn’t thought twice about running into the blazing cabin to save their friend Striker Jennings, and the woman Striker had been hired to protect, Margo Connelly. Striker and Ms. Connelly were being treated by paramedics, and the body of the man who’d tried to kill them lay covered by a white sheet.

“You okay?”

Quasar reluctantly shifted his gaze off the woman to glance at the man who’d joined him. “Yeah, Stonewall, I’m okay. What about you?”

“We’re alive. So are Striker and Ms. Connelly, and that’s all that matters. And that bastard over there is dead,” he said, indicating the would-be assassin. “Good riddance.”

Quasar nodded in agreement and then switched his gaze back to where the woman stood. Three other women had joined her. He recognized Margo Connelly and Detective Joy Ingram, and when the third woman took out a writing pad he concluded she was a federal agent about to take a statement from Ms. Connelly. Federal agents were swarming all over the place. However, Quasar had no idea about the woman who’d caught his eye. Was she a federal agent, as well?

When Stonewall muttered something about it being a pity that such a nice house was burning down, Quasar decided to satisfy his curiosity. “Hey, man, the woman standing over there next to your detective—the one wearing the slacks and leather blazer—who is she?”

Stonewall frowned after glancing over his shoulder. His friend wasn’t all that keen on him referring to Joy Ingram as his detective. Stonewall and Joy had met at a party a month ago, and from the first it was obvious Stonewall had the hots for the detective. Probably to the same degree Quasar had the hots for the woman standing beside her.

“She is not my detective,” Stonewall said, copping an attitude that Quasar chose to ignore.

“You want her to be, though. I know the two of you haven’t had an official date yet, but you’ve met up with her a number of mornings at that café on Monroe Street for coffee and donuts. You also met with her at Shady Reds a couple of times to grab a few beers.”

Stonewall’s frown deepened. “You know too damn much.”

“Not really, which is why I want to know who that woman is. The one in the dark slacks and leather blazer.”

“I heard your description the first time,” Stonewall snapped.

“Well?”

Stonewall took a huge gulp of water from the bottle he was holding, then swiped across his mouth with the back of his hand. Quasar knew his friend was trying to annoy the hell out of him by deliberately taking his time in answering. Finally he said, “Her name is Dr. Randi Fuller.”

Quasar lifted a brow. “The psychic investigator?”

“Yes, the psychic investigator. I admit I was a skeptic at first, but she’s made a believer out of me. She led everyone to this place, and just in time. I don’t want to think what would have happened if no one had taken Dr. Fuller seriously.”

Quasar didn’t want to think what would have happened, either.

“Well, let me get back over to Striker,” Stonewall said. “He’s about done giving his statement to the Feds now.”

When Stonewall walked off, Quasar returned his full attention to Dr. Randi Fuller. Randi. He liked that name and thought it was different. Tired of standing, he decided to crouch down a minute, and when he did so, as if the movement carried a sound that floated through the air, Dr. Fuller turned and looked over at him.

The moment their gazes connected, desire with an intensity he’d never felt before twisted Quasar’s gut, and primitive male awareness filled his every pore. A throbbing need suddenly consumed his senses, and there was an unmistakable pounding in his crotch. Crackles of sexual energy passed between them, hot, raw and relentlessly carnal. Even across the distance, he swore he could hear the intimate sound of her breathing, the fast pounding of her heart. He was convinced he could even smell her. It was an arousing scent of jasmine and some other entrancing fragrance.

Shit. What the hell was happening? With him? Between them?

She must have been trying to figure out that very same thing, because she suddenly broke eye contact with him. He used that time to suck in a deep breath and to force his aroused state under control. The strange connection they’d just shared was a jolt of sexual energy that rocked him to the bone. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before.

Moments later, when she glanced back his way and their gazes reconnected, his mind conjured up a number of erotic images. Like him burying his face in the hollow of her throat, undressing her, making hard-ass love to her while those long legs wrapped tight around his waist. His penis throbbed at the thought of pounding into her. Hammering hard. Then harder.

When Detective Ingram said something to get her attention, she looked away from him again. But he continued to stare at her, to will her to glance back. Although maybe it was a good thing she didn’t. He was so damn aroused he could probably come just from all this sexual chemistry surging between them. Explosive. Fiery as hell. The I-need-to-get-fucked kind.

“We need to talk to Striker,” Stonewall said, returning, interrupting Quasar’s heated thoughts.

Annoyed, he glanced up at Stonewall. “Why?”

“He’s about to make some crazy decisions about Margo Connelly.”

Frustrated, Quasar ran his fingers through his hair. “And you know this, how?”

“Because I do. He’s crazy about her and is fighting it.”

“Not my business, and neither is it yours,” Quasar said, standing back up and pulling his shirt down past his pants zipper.

“It will be our business if we’re the ones who have to put up with his crappy-ass mood.”

Well, hell, Quasar figured Stonewall was right about that. “Okay, so, what’s the game plan?”

As Stonewall began talking, Quasar glanced over to where Randi Fuller had been standing. Dammit, she was gone. He anxiously glanced around the crime scene but didn’t see her anywhere.

He sucked in a deep breath of disappointment and as he drew the oxygen through his lungs, he wondered if, somehow, someway, he would ever see the beautiful psychic investigator again.

CHAPTER ONE

Three months later

WHY IS THE NIGHT I saw Dr. Randi Fuller still so vividly clear in my mind?

That irritating question nagged the hell out of Quasar while at his home in Charlottesville, Virginia. Getting more annoyed with himself every passing minute, he grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and a slice of leftover pizza from the microwave. The very idea that any woman could linger on his mind for this long was preposterous. Especially when it was a woman he’d seen only one time.

But damn, she’d been beautiful, and he would admit to being awestruck and mesmerized. So much, in fact, he hadn’t been able to stop looking at her that night. She’d caught him staring and had boldly stared back. He’d seen the same interest mirrored in her eyes he was certain shone in his. A part of him wondered if she’d read his thoughts. After all, she was a psychic.

Deep down he knew that her paranormal abilities had nothing to do with why she’d been stuck in his mind for three solid months. For a reason he couldn’t explain, he’d felt this strange connection between them. One that had him still thinking of her three months later. As far as he was concerned, nothing about his obsession with Dr. Fuller made sense. He dated women. He bedded women. What he didn’t do was get fixated on one.

His phone rang and he recognized the tone. It was a call from his father. Normally he’d have let it go, but he decided to answer it. Maybe if his mind was full of anger at someone, it would keep his thoughts of Dr. Randi Fuller at bay. He’d never known a time when a phone conversation with Louis Patterson didn’t end in shouting.

He looked at the clock. Usually his father didn’t call past dinnertime. There was only one way to find out the reason for this abnormality. “Is there a reason for your call, Louis?” He had stopped referring to his father as Dad years ago. As far as Quasar was concerned, the man didn’t deserve the title when he’d unashamedly picked one son over the other countless times. And unsurprisingly, his father hadn’t made a fuss about the change.

“Yes, I wouldn’t be contacting you if there wasn’t. Doyle has decided to run for public office.”

Quasar’s stomach clenched at the thought of his older brother. Doyle was and always had been his father’s golden child. “Any reason you thought I needed to know?”

“Forever the smart-ass, aren’t you, Quasar?”

Quasar managed a tight smile while thinking, Yes, if it riles you, then it’s worth it. “Why do you think I need to know Doyle has decided to get his hands dirty in politics?” He figured his old man didn’t like that question, especially the reference to dirty hands.

His father ignored the comment altogether. “The media knows about you. They might want to talk to you. Get an interview.”

Quasar chuckled. “Oh, I get it. And you’re afraid I’ll tell them something. Like the truth.”

Once again there was silence on the other end of the call. Quasar liked it whenever he could render the great, all-powerful Louis Patterson speechless. It was always this way between them. He was determined never to be controlled again, and his father was intent on controlling him like old times.

The old man finally recovered and said, “When are you going to forget about that and let it go, Quasar? You know I couldn’t let Doyle go to jail.”

But you could let me go and waste three years of my life behind bars for a crime I didn’t commit. Quasar knew there was no reason to get into an argument with his father about it. The man had wanted to protect Doyle, and Quasar had been the sacrificial lamb.

As far as Quasar was concerned, the only good thing that had come out of those three years in prison was meeting a man who’d proved that not all fathers were assholes. That there were some who loved their sons...no matter how many they had. That man was Sheppard Granger. Like Quasar, Sheppard had been jailed for a crime he hadn’t committed.

Shep, as the other inmates called him, was a lot older than most of the prisoners and served time for murdering his wife. It didn’t take long for anyone who hung around Shep to know he was a natural-born leader—a positive one. He gained the respect of many and was highly admired.

Before being sent to prison, Shep was the CEO of a major corporation, Granger Aeronautics. While in prison he became a father figure to the younger inmates, their mentor, confidant and role model. Instead of acting resentful for being locked up for a crime he didn’t commit, Shep used his time in prison to implement Toastmasters, Leaders of Tomorrow, GED exams and college programs. Shep was the reason Quasar had walked out of prison a different man. A man who would no longer allow his father to intimidate him. While growing up, nothing he did pleased his father. Louis always made him feel inadequate, as if he would never measure up...like that time he’d become captain of the swim team and the team came in second place in its first competition. Instead of giving him accolades for even making it to the finals, Louis had verbally lashed out at him for not winning.

Prison had also introduced several other men into Quasar’s life. Some who were better brothers than Doyle had ever been. The first two who immediately came to mind were Striker and Stonewall.

“Quasar?” His father’s voice annoyingly intruded on his thoughts.

“I heard you. Doyle is getting into politics.”

“You gonna keep your mouth shut and not bring shame on the family’s name?”

“Don’t count on it.” Not giving his father time to respond, he clicked off the phone.

He laughed, imagining the look on his father’s face. Not too many people would have the courage to hang up on Louis Patterson and laugh about it. Oh, well.

Quasar was about to settle down in front of the television with his beer and pizza and see what was happening on the sports channel when his cell phone rang again. It wasn’t his father calling back but Roland Summers, his boss at Summers Security Firm.

Not long after being released from prison, he, Stonewall and Striker had signed on to work for Roland’s security firm. Since the three of them hadn’t known a thing about security work, Roland, an ex-con himself, understood the importance of them having steady and productive employment and had gotten them into one of the top tactical training schools in the country. In addition, Roland had hooked them up for a full year with a former Secret Service agent by the name of Grayson Prescoli. Grayson had a reputation as being one of the best in the business while serving under three presidents.

After Striker was credited with taking down the assassin who’d been terrorizing Charlottesville, Summers Security received national attention and was hailed as one of the top-notch security firms in the country. Since then, the security firm had received numerous requests from around the country for their services. That had prompted Roland to hire additional trained bodyguards to protect celebrities, politicians, and members of wealthy families and handle security details during special events. As of last month, the security firm had gone global, and international requests were rolling in. Stonewall was currently in Paris, acting as bodyguard to some billionaire playboy.

Quasar clicked on the phone. “What’s up, Roland?”

“I took a chance in reaching you. It’s your weekend off, and I’m surprised you’re not out on a date or something.”

Quasar chuckled. Roland was not only his boss but also a good friend who knew how much he enjoyed the opposite sex. “I thought I’d hang around home this weekend.”

“Oh, I see.”

He figured Roland really did see and was fully aware that at times, Quasar slipped into pensive moods. It was during those times he preferred being by himself. “So what do you need, Roland?”

“I just got a call about an event at the Kennedy Center. They’re expecting a ton of celebrities, will be increasing their security detail and need at least three of my men. Since you’ve done events there before, I’m reaching out to you in case you might be interested.”

“When is it?” Quasar asked.

“Next weekend. It’s on Friday night, but they’re footing the bill for an entire weekend if you want to use the additional two days and do some sightseeing. If you’re interested, I’ll have the packet ready when you return to the office on Monday.”

“I’m interested.” He hadn’t been to DC in a while. It would give him the chance to check in on Ryker Valentine, a former inmate who, after returning to his home state of California, had entered politics and was now a US senator.

“Good. I’ll put you down, Quasar.”

“I hope you’re not overdoing anything, Roland.” The man had been shot earlier that year in an attempted carjacking.

“My last scheduled checkup with the doctor was yesterday,” Roland said. “I’m officially released with a clean bill of health.”

“Glad to hear it, but still, don’t tax yourself.”

“I won’t. I’ll have Carson to deal with if I do.”

Quasar knew that to be true. Carson was Shep’s wife and Roland’s good friend. She doted on Roland like a younger brother. “And how is Carson?”

“Fine. They found out last week that she’s having a girl. Everyone is happy. Especially Shep. After three sons, he’s getting a daughter. The baby is due sometime in July.”

Quasar smiled, thinking of Shep with a daughter. In a way, it was strange to picture Shep and a baby at all, considering his youngest son, Dalton, would be thirty this year. Shep was starting fatherhood all over again. “What about Caden and Dalton? Any word on what they’re having?” The wives of two of Shep’s sons were pregnant, as well.

“Caden and Shiloh are also having a girl. Dalton and Jules aren’t saying yet.”

Quasar shook his head and chuckled. “Leave it to Dalton to keep everyone in suspense.”

“Yes, that’s Dalton for you. Talk to you later.”

Quasar clicked off the phone. Maybe spending a weekend in the nation’s capital, visiting an old friend, was just what he needed.

* * *

“SO WHAT ARE your plans for Trey’s birthday?” Randi asked her sister, Haywood, as they tossed their shopping bags into the backseat of Haywood’s SUV. It was a beautiful day in Richmond, although forecasters had predicted rain later today. Randi loved shopping, and a day spent at the malls with her sister was the best. Even with the eight-year difference in their ages, they’d always been close. Usually their mother would join them, but their parents had left today to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary on an international tour of four countries.