Trusting the Bodyguard Read online

  “Just run the damn name, funny boy.”

  “Why can’t you do it? You’ve got clearance.”

  “Not right now I don’t. If word gets out I was anywhere near the building Doc won’t ever clear me. That sick SOB is just loving the fact that I’m out of commission.”

  “You might be right. For a doc, he’s a sadistic asshole, ain’t he?”

  Rico’s easy laughter cracked a reluctant grin from Archer. “So can you do me this favor? Or should I ask Jeremiah?”

  “Good luck with that. Jeremiah went out on assignment last week.”

  Jeremiah was already out on assignment? Jealousy at his former team member getting the all-clear before him coupled with anger at himself for making such a stupid mistake drained the levity from his voice. “Fine. Call my cell when you get the info.”

  Rico didn’t ask further questions, just agreed and the conversation was over. Men in general didn’t chew the fat on the phone, but men in their profession found superfluous time spent on anything that could be traced was a liability.

  Yeah, they were all that paranoid. Made them good at their jobs. Archer ignored the little voice in his head that was quick to point out that he was no longer the best, but the slaughtered body of Kandy Kane, aka Cynthia Harvey, was hard to forget. He was forced to wonder if the glory days were over. The thought, a chilling one, made him edgy and twitchy. Fact was, he loved his job the way some guys loved their wives. And his wife had just kicked him out of bed. That sucked hard. Deal with it, Brant. Just deal with it, he told himself sourly. He had a kid needing diapers and a former fiancée to keep safe. No sense in crying over what couldn’t be fixed at the moment. Yeah…right.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MARISSA RAN A BRUSH through Jenna’s thick hair, gently finger-combing the sweet baby curls that clung to her little head and hummed a mindless tune for the child’s benefit. There was little else she could do at the moment but keep her safe and entertained until Archer returned with supplies.

  She rolled her neck to relieve the tension bunching her shoulders up around her ears and groaned when a soft pop sounded. She was not the kind of person to sit idly, and doing just that was eating at her ability to hold on to her sanity. It was difficult to comprehend just how radically her life had changed within the space of two days. On the surface she missed the comfort of her routine—her early-morning run, a nonfat latte with whip cream and a quiet lunch spent under the trees in the park near the lab—but deep down there was a knot of grief that pulsed like an angry wound.

  God, how she had loved her older sister but she wasn’t going to lie…Mercedes had driven her crazy with her impetuous and often self-absorbed actions. And now…her life was unrecognizable because of Mercedes.

  When Mercedes had told her she was pregnant, the air had left Marissa’s lungs. Her sister’s elated expression had given her no similar feeling. Inside, she’d felt a terrible sense of foreboding. Not for the child itself, for all children were gifts from God, but she’d known Ruben was the father and he made her skin crawl.

  Jenna grinned and then squealed with delight when she latched on to the television remote. Marissa smiled, her heart squeezing tightly with love for her niece in spite of the circumstances. Jenna looked so much like Mercedes that Marissa liked to pretend that Ruben had not fathered her at all. There was little evidence of his tainted blood in her angelic face and that was a blessing. In her opinion, Ruben was not an attractive man and it would’ve been a cruel joke to curse a daughter with his mug. The fact that she looked so strikingly similar to Mercedes and likewise, herself, had been a point in her favor when she’d made the decision to take her. People would not question that Jenna was her daughter if they moved somewhere where no one knew them.

  But to put that plan into play, she’d have to leave everything behind, possibly even travel outside of California to safely pull that off. She sighed unhappily and fell back against the plush sofa, succumbing to a moment of self-pity for the mess she was in.

  On impulse, she grabbed her cell phone from her purse. There were seven missed calls from her boss. She listened to the voice mail and cringed when she heard the worry in Layla’s voice. Layla had always been a good supervisor to work for at the lab where Marissa had spent the past six years of her life building a reputation for herself. She’d been the recipient of multiple bonuses from the company due to her successful drug trials and she was known for her work ethic. So to drop off the face of the planet was completely out of character and Layla knew it. Marissa could tell her boss was plainly worried sick by the tone of her messages.

  One phone call couldn’t hurt, she reasoned.

  She quickly dialed. Layla picked up on the first ring, no doubt seeing it was Marissa from the caller ID.

  “Where are you? What is going on? I went by your apartment and it looks like a hurricane hit it,” Layla said all in one breath before Marissa could say a word. Layla’s concern sparked an achy feeling in her chest that made it difficult to speak at first. “Marissa? Are you okay? You’ve got me really freaked out.”

  “I’m okay.” She thought of her apartment, and how Ruben’s guys must’ve trashed it when she split, and swallowed hard. “I need some personal time. My sister—”

  “Of course, you do,” Layla clucked compassionately. “You should’ve told me right away. You have plenty of vacation time you can use to get you through this. Did you know our company also pays for grief counseling? You ought to look into that. No sense in paying for benefits you don’t use, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Marissa murmured, wishing she could tell Layla the truth but knew it was better this way. Besides, Layla was a wonderful boss but they weren’t friends in the strictest sense of the word. Somehow telling her boss that she’d stolen a child and quite possibly killed a man might not reflect well on her ability to remain employed. And Marissa was planning to return to her life. Somehow. “Thank you for your understanding. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’ve been pretty upset these last few days. It just hit me.” Funny, ha-ha, Marissa. She drew a shuddering breath. “But I’ll be okay in a few weeks.”

  “Who do you want to take over your experiments?” Layla asked, returning to business. Marissa didn’t fault her. She had a company to keep running and those drug trials were time sensitive. “How about Danny? Or Veronica?”

  She wrinkled her nose at Veronica and quickly agreed to the former. “Danny should be fine. Thanks, Layla.”

  “Oh, you’re most welcome. I feel so bad about your sister but I’m glad to hear you’re okay. When I went by your apartment…well, I immediately thought the worst.”

  Marissa could only imagine the destruction left behind. It burned to know Layla thought she had wigged out to the extreme and trashed her own apartment but she had little choice but to go along with it. “Extreme grief and too much wine is a bad combination,” she murmured, though she grimaced at the lie coming from her mouth.

  “Enough said,” Layla replied with dry humor. “We’ve all had a moment where we lose it. Some with less reason than you. Don’t worry about it. No one is judging you on this end. I just want to see you back to work when you’re ready.”

  “Thanks,” Marissa said, feeling marginally better that she’d tied up at least a few loose ends, but still wishing she could just close her eyes and realize everything had been a terrible dream. But she knew it was real and she had to cover her bases. “Layla, if anyone asks about me, could you keep our conversation under your hat? I just want to decompress for a bit in private.”

  “You got it,” Layla assured her. “You take care, dear.”

  Marissa ended the call and gazed at her niece happily drooling on a universal remote that probably cost Archer a ton of cash and wondered how exactly she could possibly “take care.”

  ARCHER RETURNED WITH bags of groceries and various odds and ends that made Marissa wonder if he’d went down each aisle systematically, tossing whatever caught his fancy into the cart. She held up a rubber hot dog that
squeaked. “Do you have a dog?” she asked, confused.

  Archer scowled and then gestured toward Jenna. “I wasn’t sure what she’d play with. I figured something that made noise was a sure bet. Don’t kids like to make a racket?”

  “I guess so but I think you could’ve found more suitable toys in the aisle with the kids’ stuff, don’t you think?”

  “I bought everything they had down that aisle but there wasn’t much to choose from. So, the kid got a rubber hot dog, too.”

  His demeanor was gruff but Marissa was silently stunned by his generosity. Looking at the bags littering the living room, he had to have spent a fortune. Her eyes watered but she didn’t let the tears fall. She’d cried enough lately but she was ridiculously touched by his attempt to fulfill Jenna’s needs. She reached out and tentatively caressed his cheek. He stilled and then shot a quick, suspicious look her way. “What’s that for?” he asked.

  She removed her hand, wishing she’d just said thank-you and left it at that. But she’d reacted to a gut need to touch him and she’d moved before thinking it through. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I just wanted to say thank you. I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  Something flitted across his expression but whatever it was he drop-kicked it far and clear within a heartbeat as he said, “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve still got ground to cover and you’re not in the clear. I haven’t decided what to do with you. I’m not going to sacrifice my career for your screwup. If you remember…it’s all I care about.”

  Her eyes stung as he threw her words at her again. They’d been said in fear of a future that could’ve left her brokenhearted, so she’d ended their relationship with a clean cut, thinking surgical lines might heal more easily than jagged tears, but she’d been wrong and they both paid the price.

  “I’m not asking you to sacrifice anything,” she retorted, her pride smarting from his harsh rebuff. “You’re the one who told me not to leave. I was prepared to get out of your life this morning, remember?”

  “Well, running away is what you’re good at. But it’s not that simple any longer. By involving me, you involved the FBI. This isn’t child’s play. We’re talking kidnapping here, Marissa. Do you even know what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into? I’m half tempted to take the kid in myself for your own good. This is going to end badly, I can feel it,” he predicted with a growl that sent a shocking shudder tripping down her back.

  He cared. He didn’t want to admit it, was fighting it, but deep down Archer Brant still had feelings for her. Her breath hitched in her chest and she swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She knew those feelings would never go anywhere but it warmed her shivering soul that they were there.

  Archer broke the growing silence with a string of swear words that he didn’t even try to censor in spite of Jenna’s presence. “I’m going to go shower,” he bit off, and then gestured angrily to the bags still unopened. “There are clothes in there for you, too.”

  ARCHER STOOD UNDER the jet spray, letting the water pelt him on the strongest setting in the hopes that some discomfort would continue to remind him that he was in a mess.

  He should’ve dropped her at the nearest bus station with a handful of cash and sent her on her way. That would’ve been smart. But since when was he into going the smart route? He turned and leaned into the spray, closing his eyes as the water streamed down his face. He reached forward and grabbed the bar of soap. Why’d she have to look the same as the day she left him? Was it too much to ask that she’d suddenly sprouted an excess of facial hair and a spare tire around her middle? Apparently. Marissa Vasquez had always been his weak spot. And she’d known it. She’d known he wouldn’t turn her away—hell, she’d banked on it—and now he was staring down ten different ways to tank his career in one fell swoop. Damn, talk about talent.

  But Marissa looked just like she did in his dreams. Long waves of dark hair tumbled down her back and framed her heart-shaped face, drawing attention to the plump and wickedly kissable lips he could still remember tasting. Images from the past, sweaty, sultry and scorching, rose like ghosts to haunt him and his body reacted. His groin tightened with an aching intensity and he stifled a groan at the thick erection that sprang to attention, reporting for duty. God, he wanted her still. After all this time she still managed to twist him in knots.

  He gritted his teeth and deliberately jerked the shower knob to cold.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  RUBEN ORTIZ DRUMMED his long fingers lightly against the top of his desk, silently fuming as he listened to the reports of his men.

  “Manny’s in bad shape,” Raul said, his dark features inscrutable. “The bitch cut him good.”

  Ruben continued to drum, thinking of Marissa and all the things he wanted to do to her. Things that weren’t nice and caused parts to rip and tear. “What does the doctor say?” he asked, his voice calm, hiding the rage inside. “Is he going to live?”

  “Only if he gets to the hospital. He needs surgery,” Raul answered.

  “Tell Dr. Elias to do what he can to make him comfortable. Get him whatever he needs,” Ruben said, stilling his fingers to clasp his hands together in front of him as he leaned forward. “No hospital.”

  “He’ll die.”

  Ruben stared Raul down. “No hospital,” he repeated, the light touch of sorrow for his cousin’s fate hidden from his voice. His empire was built on the blood of others. He was no stranger to death. Or procedure. “Hospital staff are required to report suspicious wounds to the police. Manuel would never disgrace the family by bringing down la jura over this. He has honor and honor lives on even after we die.”

  Raul slowly nodded, his black eyes narrowing. “You going to make her pay for this insult?”

  At that a cruel smile spread from the corners of his mouth as he answered, “In ways you can’t even imagine. Find her. Bring her to me alive.”

  “What of the kid?” Raul asked.

  Ruben thought of the child that was of his blood by that faithless whore Mercedes and contemplated how easy it would be to break Marissa using the girl as leverage. His mood lifted. “Bring her, as well. Oh, and, Raul, be careful with the child. She’s mine, after all.”

  WITH JENNA ASLEEP for her afternoon nap, Marissa took the opportunity to get some fresh air. Archer had spent the rest of the morning away from her, cloistered in his study with the door closed, either on the phone or on the computer. A part of her couldn’t help but feel like a leper forced into closed quarters with a man who would do anything to avoid contact with her. She tried not to blame him, he hadn’t asked for any of this, but her feelings were tender just the same.

  She stared out at the mountain vista, watching as the late-afternoon sun made its slow trek toward the west, and wished she could appreciate the beauty of the view instead of wondering if someone was hiding within the trees, waiting for the right moment to slit her throat.

  She didn’t think Ruben would find her here but he had resources that she didn’t want to fathom and it was possible that there was little that Ruben couldn’t get if he put his mind to it.

  And he wanted her. He hadn’t been subtle in his pursuit once Mercedes ceased to amuse or satisfy him. Marissa shuddered, feeling the sickening slide of his hands on her. A wave of nausea hit her, and she had to force the bile down.

  “What’s wrong?” Archer asked from behind. She turned to face him and she automatically shook her head in denial. A denial he didn’t buy. “You’re pale and shaking,” he observed, coming closer.

  “It’s nothing,” she lied, her teeth starting to chatter.

  He eyed her with suspicion. “You’re lying.”

  “I am not. I just caught a chill is all,” she said, trying to move past him, but he caught her arm and pulled her close. The heat from his body seared the skin from her limbs, so that she felt suddenly alive and desperate for more. She wanted to sink into that warmth and pretend she hadn’t cut him loose all those years ago and right now they were just enj
oying a night in their cabin without danger lurking around each corner. “What are you doing?” she asked softly.

  “I wish I knew,” he answered, the honesty in his voice cutting her to ribbons. He drew her closer, his face nearing hers, and she felt his breath on her cheek. He smelled of cedar and leather, secret dreams and heartache. She parted her lips, desperately hoping he would kiss her, yet knowing somehow that he would not. He caressed the side of her face and her eyelids closed for a heartbeat, eager for his touch, his comfort, and then he let her go. She opened her eyes and tried her best to hide her disappointment but she’d never been a very good actress so the effort was probably moot. Still it hurt to know that he had such restraint when she was close to begging. She put distance between them. He didn’t try to apologize. “Come back in. It might not be safe out in the open,” he said, and then returned inside.

  ARCHER GRABBED TWO BEERS and when Marissa came in, he handed one to her.

  “I don’t drink beer,” she said, declining.

  “Figured you might need a little liquid courage before we begin,” he said with a shrug.

  She stared. “Before we begin what?”

  “Before we begin where we left off.”

  Her cheeks heated and he knew she was thinking of the moment they shared only seconds ago but he shook his head. “I have to know details, Marissa. You’re hiding something and I want to know. No more pussyfooting around. I mean it. You spill the beans or it’s over.”

  She grabbed the neck of the beer bottle. “I guess I’ll need that after all,” she said.

  “Figured you’d change your mind.”

  She twisted off the top like a pro and took a short swig. He followed, eyeing her above the bottle, noting the shake in her hands hadn’t completely subsided but she was trying like hell to make it stop. She grimaced at the taste but didn’t complain. “I don’t know where to start,” she admitted.