A View to a Thrill (Masters and Mercenaries Book 7) (4 page)

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think we should stay.” JT looked at his cousin. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I don’t like a minute of it. I think we should call someone in. If you’re so worried you won’t answer the door without backup, something has to be done about it. We’ll call in the police or the feds. I’ve got contacts.”

Michael groaned. “This is Simon’s gig. You can’t play the CEO card with him.”

“He’s my family,” JT replied with a stubborn look. “You watch me. I know you two think I’m the soft one, but I can be a ruthless bastard when I want to be. I will protect this family with everything I have.”

Simon softened slightly. “I’m asking you to let me handle my own business, JT. This is my territory. If I need help, I will ask you.”

“Come on, brother. I think he can handle it. He’s not the same skinny kid who showed up at the house thirty years ago. You don’t have to protect him anymore. The same goes for me.” Michael put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Let’s go get a beer and we’ll talk.”

With obvious reluctance, JT Malone allowed himself to be hustled out the door.

She’d known Simon had cousins here in Texas, but seeing them, being in a room with them, made it more real. So often he was some sort of god in her head. Cool, calm, collected. Infinitely sexy. He was damn perfect in her mind.

And he’d been a skinny little kid who needed protecting. She’d needed protecting, too. She remembered clinging to her sister’s hand during the flight from North Carolina to Moscow. They’d watched their father kill their mother and then they’d only had each other.

“I’m sorry about that.” Simon moved to the big bar in his kitchen and started unloading the bag he’d set there. “My family can be a bit overbearing at times.”

“They love you.” That was obvious. She’d made a study of Simon, but the truth wasn’t always in data. It was the frustrating thing about life. Data, information, numbers were her specialty, but while she’d known about Simon’s ties to Malone Oil, she hadn’t counted on the fact that Jackson Tyrell Malone, billionaire heir to what amounted to an American kingdom, would truly love and want to protect his family. Or that his family would buck and fight against the constraints of that protection.

“Of course they do. They’re my family.” He brought down a plate and began to spoon food onto it.

That was easy for him to say. Family hadn’t been so easy for her. Just thinking about her “family” made her leg ache. Of course the damn thing ached all the time, and running around the Metroplex for eight hours hadn’t improved the condition. She needed a distraction, and work was her drug of choice. “What’s your wireless password?”

She needed to get on the web and continue her investigation. Whoever was pissed at her likely had blabbed to someone else. There were always tracks. Always hints and clues there for a smart girl to connect.

“Eat.”

“That’s a terrible password.” They had to work on his security. A password should be something utterly random. At least seven characters long, and with a myriad of numbers, letters, and symbols. Too many people made the mistake of choosing something meaningful to them like “ilovedan” or “cutekitty.” Yeah, those suckers got hacked and fast.

She dragged out her computer. It was a lightweight laptop she’d had custom made and kitted out to do things ninety-nine percent of computers couldn’t. She had a hotspot, too, but it was almost out of charge. She’d run through her backup battery. Where to set up? She was going to be up all night, so she might as well make herself comfy. If she was smart, she could figure the whole damn thing out by morning and Charlotte never had to know how her baby sister had fucked up again.

A shadow fell across her screen. She glanced up, hating the way her breath hitched. He loomed over her. Simon, in all his suited up and very British glory. He’d ditched the coat, but his tie was still in place. The white dress shirt he was wearing couldn’t hide the lean, muscular lines of his body. She was alone with Simon. Simon, with his sandy hair and deep blue eyes and shoulders that seemed to go on for days.

“Put the computer away and come and eat.”

“I can eat while I work.” It damn near hurt to look at him so she let her gaze drift back to her screen.

A big hand came out and flipped the screen down. “You will sit down like a civilized person and eat until I’m satisfied and then we’ll have a chat about how this is going to work.”

Damn him. He was using his Dom voice on her, the dark, rich commanding tone he used on the subs at Sanctum. The one he’d used on her when they’d played together in The Garden. Play. It was a stupid word to describe what had happened between them. It hadn’t felt like play. It felt real and powerful and serious, and that was why she shouldn’t be here.

Do you know how I could make you feel?

She still heard him growling the words at her, offering to take her to an aftercare room. He’d asked her to give over to him, but she couldn’t. Not that way. She did know exactly how he could make her feel. Vulnerable. Lost. Aching.

“Simon, I’ve thought about this and I just need a place to stay for the night. Maybe two, tops. Just let me do a little digging and I’ll get out of your hair.” Now that she was here with him, she remembered how dangerous he could be to her peace of mind. “You don’t have to concern yourself too much with it.”

He nodded shortly and turned away from her.

Well, at least that had been easy.

He strode to the bar and picked up his cell phone. After a single push against the screen, he placed the phone to his ear. “Hello, Tag. I’m sorry to bother you.”

Fuck. Fuck. Mother fuck.
She stood up and shook her head, keeping her voice down. “Don’t you dare.”

“Yes, it was a long flight. Hang on a moment.” He pushed the mute button. “I can tell him I’m not coming into work tomorrow or I can hand you over and let him deal with you. It’s your choice.”

“That is not fair.”

“I don’t care about fair. You’ll deal with him or me. Make your decision. If you’re going to deal with me, you will go sit down at the table and eat dinner. If not, get your bag together because I have the feeling Ian will move very quickly.”

He was a son of a bitch.

And you’re stupid if you lie to yourself. You’re here because you knew damn well he wouldn’t leave you alone. You’re here because you can’t handle him the way you do everyone else.

He wouldn’t back down. He wouldn’t compromise. If she didn’t want to end up at Ian and Charlotte’s, giving the entire investigation over to Ian, she better move.

She stood up, leaving her computer behind because apparently it wasn’t welcome at Simon’s civilized dinner table. She very quietly sat down in front of the plate Simon had made for her. Naturally his small dining area was immaculately kept and the presentation even of take-out Chinese food was lovely. She microwaved things or ate her take-out straight from the bag. She had the place Charlotte had bought, but her sister had selected everything in it. She rarely used the dishes and wasn’t sure just how long it had been since she sat down for dinner. Chelsea pointedly picked up a spoon and started in on the wonton soup.

“I need a few days. Yes, something’s come up with my cousins. No. I don’t think we need to bring the team in. I’ll take Jesse with me and we’ll see if my cousin is being paranoid.” He stared at her as he spoke, never taking his eyes off her. “Yes, once I get out there, my aunt won’t let me leave for a day or two. Excellent. Thank you. Yes, I’ll check in.”

He put the phone down.

“You’re a son of a bitch.”

He shrugged a little and picked up his own plate. “My mother is actually quite lovely. My cousins, on the other hand, can be a bit rough around the edges. Did they frighten you? I know you don’t like to be around men you don’t know.”

Because even the men she’d known as a teen had been violent and aggressive. Because her own father had beaten her so badly she still couldn’t walk straight. “I wasn’t afraid of them.”

“Why? They can be aggressive around a woman.”

“I wasn’t afraid because you were here.” The words were out of her mouth before she could think to call them back.

In a graceful move, he seated himself and pulled a napkin over his lap. His blue eyes looked infinitely warm as he glanced her way. “They would never hurt you. My cousins are good men. They’re solid. But you should know I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. Anyone.”

Except himself. He wouldn’t mean to hurt her, but there was no way a man as beautiful and blessed as Simon Weston stayed with someone as cursed as Chelsea for long. He liked to play the white knight. Once he realized she wasn’t worth saving, he would move on to the next wounded girl he found. She couldn’t live in his world. He was the second son of a duke. She was still wanted by several governments and numerous criminal organizations.

It was better to keep focused on work. “Let’s talk about how you can help me. You bought me a couple of days. I appreciate that. I just need to keep a low profile.”

He shook his head shortly. “No. We don’t have anything to talk about until we agree upon your contract. We can discuss it after dinner. You’re a bit shaky. I won’t go into it until you’ve got your strength back.”

She didn’t need her strength to find out how much he was going to charge her. “Don’t you mean your contract? Let’s have it. How much do you charge by the hour?” It couldn’t be too much more than what Ian charged. After all, she was only getting Simon and Ian would bring an entire team with him. He would also bring his own personality, which included assholiness and more sarcasm than she could handle in a single day. And Charlotte. Ian would bring Charlotte. A few months into standing on her own two feet for the first time and Chelsea was in serious trouble. If she wasn’t careful she would find herself living with Ian and Charlotte, and both she and Satan wanted to avoid that at all costs.

“No, I was talking about the BDSM contract we’re going to sign.” Simon dropped the words casually, and for the second time that day, Chelsea felt like she had a bomb in her lap just waiting to go off.

She nearly lost her spoon. “What?”

He was perfectly calm. “That’s my requirement for protecting you. I don’t want money. You’ll sign a contract making me your Master or I can call your brother-in-law back. How is the broccoli beef? I’ve never tried it before. Would you like some wine?”

She nodded numbly. She was going to need it.

Chapter Two

Simon looked down at the contract and wished he’d had a bit more time. He’d been forced to start with a standard contract and write in just some of his own language. He didn’t like using a standard with her. Chelsea was different, but if he gave her any time at all she would find a way to wiggle off the hook he’d caught her on. He could still hear his Uncle David teaching him to fish.

When you catch the right one, you reel that sucker in and fast, son.

His uncle would likely have preached caution and patience. His uncle was a good man, but he’d never had to deal with Chelsea Dennis.

He’d written in their personal portions of the documents after they’d eaten dinner and then given it to her to read. He’d tried giving her some privacy, but when he’d come out of the bedroom, she’d been staring at her computer screen instead of the contract.

“Should we go over hard and soft limits?”

She rolled those beautiful eyes of hers. She was the very picture of petulance, sitting on his sofa, her arms crossed over her chest and a sulky frown turning her lips down. What would it take to get her to smile? When he ate her pussy until she screamed, would she smile afterward? “My hard limits are everything. Simon, this is stupid. Why are we doing this? I’m looking for a bodyguard, not a play partner. Besides, didn’t you learn anything in London? I’m not submissive. I just use it for pain management.”

Yes, he knew that was what she told herself. “I learned that you’re incredibly stubborn and you like to lie even to yourself. As to why we’re doing this, it’s because I always have a plan
B
.”

“How is this plan
B
?”

She was incredibly smart when it came to computers, but she wasn’t much of a forward thinker. “From the moment you walked in and announced your problem, I’ve been running possible scenarios through my head. I think I’ve come up with the way this is most likely to end and I’m planning around it.”

She snorted a little. He really shouldn’t find the sound so charming. “You planning my funeral?”

He had to work on her pessimism. “No. I wasn’t talking about your eventual death. I have no intention of allowing that to happen. I’m talking about the likelihood that Ian discovers what’s been happening and takes over.”

“That can’t happen. I might rather die than have that happen. Maybe I should just run.”

“He would find you.” Only if Simon didn’t find her first, but he didn’t say that out loud.

“How does the fact that I let you smack my ass protect me from Satan?”

He also needed to work on politeness. “He cares about you, you know. Anything he would do would be to protect you.”