In the Line of Fire: Hot Desert Heroes, Book 1 (3 page)

“Are you kidding? I love their music!” She sat forward. “Have you heard them?”

His mouth twisted and he gave a short nod. “Have to say, though, I’m not a fan.”

That didn’t surprise her. Mari and the Ever Hard Boys were a mix of grunge and garage band and had a following of mostly teens and young adults. Delaney was at the high end of the demographic but she didn’t care. She loved music of all kinds.

“So, being a bodyguard to a celebrity, is it like they portray it in
The Bodyguard
?” she asked, naming a Kevin Costner/Whitney Houston film she’d absolutely adored.

He shook his head. “That movie’s grossly unrealistic. Hollywood’s smoke and mirrors, though, not reality, so I suppose it’s entertaining if you can look past the discrepancies and lack of realism.”

Beck bit back a grin at the look of disappointment that crossed her face.

“Oh. It looked plausible enough to me.” She chewed at the corner of her mouth then said, “Do you…have you ever been shot?” Her eyes were wide and clouded with worry.

Warmth pooled in his gut. She really was a sweetheart. He was glad that his original assessment of her was being proven correct. She was a knockout, but, more importantly, she was a caring person.

“Not as a bodyguard.” He reached over and took her hand, enjoying the way her slender fingers curled around his. It gave him hope that she liked it when he touched her, because he planned to do a whole lot more touching in the future. “Most of the work is done behind the scenes, and the onus is on the outer perimeter security personnel. If the threat gets close enough to the client where we get involved, our role is to move them away from danger as quickly as possible.”

He swept his thumb over the back of her hand. God, her skin was soft. He’d thought so the first time he’d taken her hand in the coffee shop that morning. He couldn’t help but wonder if the skin on her hand was this soft, just how soft would she be all over?

“Think of how the Secret Service protects the president,” he went on. “They have plainclothes operatives in the crowd, lookin’ at everyone and everything. The guys in the black suits, the close protection part of the operation, are the ones you see, and all they’re lookin’ at are hands and eyes. If a threat gets close to the president, they cover him and hustle him away.”

“But Secret Service agents get hurt protecting the president and others, right?”

“Yes, but, really, it’s rare. From what I recall, there’s been one death and only a couple of injuries resulting from assassination attempts. When you look at how often a president goes out in public, the statistics are very low, mainly because the Secret Service has advance preparations in place to mitigate every possible threat. So do we.”

“Still seems dangerous to me,” she mumbled, a flush turning her cheeks pink.

“I’m not saying it isn’t.” He gave her fingers a squeeze and sat back to finish his salad.

She frowned at him. “I don’t think I like you doing that kind of work.”

“Walk in the park compared to what I did in the military, babe.”

Delaney’s frown grew. “Can’t say that I like that, either.”

Beck grinned. Fuck him, she was cute. And even more so because she didn’t try to hide that she worried about him. He liked that. He liked it a whole hell of a lot. But he hoped she could get over the fear of him doing his job because he wasn’t going to be doing anything else in the foreseeable future. “I’m good at what I do, Laney.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” came the quick rejoinder in her quiet, melodious voice. He liked that too. “But bad guys are oftentimes good at what
they
do too,” she went on. “That’s what worries me.”

“They’re not better than me and my guys.”

Her eyebrows shot up.

“Not bein’ cocky. Just statin’ a fact.”

“Yeah, stating it in a cocky manner,” she said and scrunched her nose. “Which makes you, ya know, cocky,” she finished with a grin.

If she were another kind of woman, he’d be making a ribald comment right about now. But this was Delaney, and he knew, especially at this juncture in their relationship, if he made a suggestive remark she’d shut down on him. And he wanted to bask in the bright light that was Delaney.

“Nope,” he replied with a smirk. “Just confident.”

Shaking her head, she heaved a sigh and forked salad into her mouth. When she’d swallowed, she said, “Do you have family?”

This was something he wasn’t ready to talk about. Talking about being orphaned would bring pity to her eyes, and that wasn’t what he wanted to see. So he prevaricated. “Doesn’t everyone?” He smiled to try to alleviate any sting his abruptness might cause and asked her, “What about you?”

“A younger sister, whom I adore, and my mom.”

The fact that she didn’t include her mother in her adoration told him a lot. “Don’t get along with her, yeah?” When she shook her head and took another bite of salad, he commiserated, “I get that. Tough.”

The waiter brought out their meals. Over the next thirty minutes they kept their conversation light. She tried a few times to get him to talk about his past, and he was able to deflect the conversation successfully back on to her without really answering her questions. She seemed to be on to his game but it didn’t appear to upset her.

With a sigh she pushed her chair away from the table. “I need to visit the ladies’ room,” she said. “If the waiter comes by, would you ask him to wrap that up so I can take it home?” She gestured toward her plate, upon which rested half her salmon and a few spears of asparagus.

“You’re not going to eat any more?”

She grinned widely. “I’m saving room for dessert. Let the waiter know I want a slice of their New York-style cheesecake with raspberry sauce.”

Finally, a woman who actually ate food. He returned her smile and stood when she did. “Got it,” he said, sitting down and watching her hips sway as she walked away. Damn, but that woman had the best ass he’d ever seen. Ten minutes later, watching her coming toward him, he admired that view too.

After the server brought her cheesecake, watching her enjoy the rich dessert was a lesson in restraint for Beck because the woman enjoyed her cheesecake and showed it. Every sweep of her tongue across her full lips, every slow blink of her eyes, every low moan she made fired his libido like nothing had for a very long time. By the time she pushed away her scraped-clean plate with a replete sigh, he was about to lose his mind.

The waiter entered the room with the bill, and Beck handed him a credit card. “Make it quick,” he muttered.

“Yes, sir,” the young man said with a grin. He was back in what seemed like under a minute, certainly no more than two. Beck added a generous gratuity, helped Delaney from her chair, and cupped her elbow in his hand as they made their way out of the restaurant. She didn’t seem as bothered by her clothing as she had on the way in. He glanced around and saw that while a few people were watching their progress, no one else seemed bothered by her outfit, either.

As a matter of fact, he realized with a scowl, a few men were looking at her legs a little too closely for his comfort and their safety. When their eyes came up and they realized he was glaring at them, they quickly turned back to their own dinner companions and tried to act as if nothing happened.

He noticed a couple being seated and squeezed Delaney’s elbow to get her attention. “See over there?” he asked softly and tipped his chin toward the young man and woman. “They’re both in jeans, even if he does have a jacket and tie on. What you’re wearing falls somewhere between their outfits and the other women in here. So see? You’re fine.”

She shook her head, but with a slight smile. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’m bee-you-tee-ful.” He opened the outer door for her and she went through saying, “I’m sorry I made such a fuss. It’s just that…” She sighed again and shook her head. “My mom isn’t the most supportive person in the world, and my ex spent our marriage telling me what a loser I was. I heard it so often I believed it. Now I do my best to rise above all that, but obviously I still have my moments.”

He beeped the remote to unlock his low-slung Audi and helped her into the passenger seat. He gently closed the door. As he walked around to the driver’s side he tried his best to tamp down the fury rising in him. The people who were supposed to love, nurture, and support her had been the ones to drive her so far into herself she was still trying to find her way to the light. He hoped to God he never met her ex because they would for sure have a come-to-Jesus meeting the bastard wouldn’t soon forget.

What he was going to do about her mother, he had no idea. At the very least he’d encourage her to spread her poison far away from Delaney.

The ten-minute drive back to Delaney’s house was accomplished mostly in silence, except for the Mari and the Ever Hard Boys CD Beck started up for her to enjoy. When he told her Mari’s agent had shipped the CD to him as a thank-you in anticipation of a job well done, she’d actually clapped and bounced in her seat.

So fucking cute.

A few times he had to grin when she started to sing along. She had a good voice but would all too soon remember she wasn’t alone and the quasi-karaoke session would falter and die. He was about to overload on how adorable she was. He didn’t know how he’d handle it when she got comfortable enough with him to really let him experience everything that was Delaney Murphy.

When he pulled into the driveway of her house, he heard her sigh. He shut off the engine and undid his seat belt.

“I…um…” she rolled her lips between her teeth as she unbuckled her own seat belt, “…I had a good time tonight,” she whispered.

Cute. And sweet. And nervous as hell. He wasn’t going to push her for anything beyond a light kiss tonight.

“Me too,” he said with a smile. “Come on. I’ll see you to your door.” He climbed out of the car and came around to help her out of the bucket seat. As they approached the front of the house, he took the keys from her hand and unlocked the door. Handing them back to her, he looked down at her in the light from the sconces on each side of the door.

She was unbelievably pretty. Wholesome, with thick, dark-brown hair so healthy it gleamed. She wasn’t short, but even with heels on, he’d have to bend his head to kiss full lips he already knew were exquisitely soft. Hazel eyes darkened to nearly brown when she was agitated, and leaned to green when she was being shy, like she was now.

Beck reached out and brushed long strands of hair behind her ear and let his hand linger, curving his palm over her jaw, threading his fingers into her hair. Her skin was soft, her hair like silk cascading over his hand.

Her breathing escalated then the tip of her tongue swept along her bottom lip. It was so fucking hot he felt it in the thud of the pulse heating his cock. This close to her, her scent, a mixture of light floral and citrus, filled his nose. And he liked that too, how she smelled.

When he bent his head, she went up on her toes to meet his mouth. The tip of her tongue touched his lips, and he was lost. What he meant to be a light goodnight kiss quickly turned into something much more.

With a groan, he wrapped his arm around Delaney’s waist and dragged her close. The hand at her jaw slid back, cupping her skull, tilting her head. He opened his mouth over hers and drove his tongue between her lips, giving her the kiss he’d been wanting to give for twelve fucking months.

It was hard.

It was wet.

It was deep.

And it was the best fucking kiss he’d ever had.

Beck drew back and looked down at Delaney. She stared at him, her cheeks pink, her pupils huge, nearly blotting out the green of her irises. Her lips, soft and swollen, were parted.

Fuck him. If this was the way she looked after just one kiss, he was anxious to see what kind of look he’d get when he was buried balls deep inside her, making her come around his dick. He aimed to find out and planned on having her send that look his way on a regular basis.

But not tonight.

“Go on and get inside, baby,” he murmured and bit back a grin as her dazed look only seemed to increase. He’d noticed her reaction when he used endearments. She especially seemed to like it when he called her baby. “I have to leave town tomorrow for that job I told you about, but I should be back in a few days.”

“O…kay,” she said, almost as if she’d breathed it on an exhale. She blinked a couple of times. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

He could give her that. “Always am. Ty and Gabe will be with me. They’ll have my six.”

“Six?”

“My back. They’ll have my back.” And that said it all, as far as he was concerned. With skilled men at his back, he was golden.

“That’s good.” She stared up at him, not moving.

Beck couldn’t stop the smile that tilted one side of his mouth. He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Inside, baby. I’ll call you if I can. If not, I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Okay.” She stared at him a moment longer then seemed to get ahold of herself. “I’ll see you later. Have a good night.”

“You too, darlin’.” He waited until the door closed behind her and the locks clicked, before he strode back to his car. As he slid behind the wheel, his lingering smile grew into a grin. She was something else, that Delaney Murphy. She was more complex than he’d initially thought, and that was okay. He didn’t think he’d ever completely figure her out. And that was okay too, because he was sure he would enjoy unwrapping her layer by layer. “Christmas at the Townsends’, every fucking day of the year,” he muttered around his grin.

Chapter Three

On Sunday night, taking his client Marisol Everhard toward the stage door of the venue, Beck saw the sun glint off metal right before a gun swung up and around in the shooter’s hand. Everything seemed to slow down as he shoved himself between the threat and the superstar singer. “Gun!” he shouted at the same instant he heard the report of the weapon. The bullet slammed between his shoulder blades almost at the same time. It felt as if it jammed his spine into his sternum. He grunted at the pain. The force of the impact shoved him forward but he managed to stay upright, though his momentum carried him and his client several feet ahead of the rest of his team.

Even if it was hotter than hell wearing a vest in the late August heat in Vegas, he thanked God for Kevlar.

Time sped back up again. Screams came from the crowd and shouts from the police, and just before he turned his attention back to the singer, he saw uniformed officers swarm the shooter and take him to the ground. Beck bent over his client so he could keep his body between her and any additional threat. Ty moved in on the other side and four casino security officers circled them, leaving the bad guy for the cops. He moved the woman toward the stage entrance of the casino entertainment center where two security officers stood guard. Once inside, he directed the group down a maze of hallways. At the door to the dressing room they’d cleared and prepped ahead of time, three of the casino security officers stopped while Beck, Ty, and the ranking security officer went inside.

The scent of roses from the dozens of colorful bouquets scattered around the small room mixed with an aroma of bleach from the products used to clean to the client’s exacting requirements. The space was brightly lit from overhead lights and several floor lamps in the corners of the room.

Gabriel Falco, the third member of Beck’s security firm, waited inside the secured room with the singer’s manager. Gabe tapped his ear, turning off the communications earbud nestled there, and folded his arms. “You guys all right?” he asked quietly.

Beck lifted his chin in acknowledgment. Ty merely gave a grunt.

The manager rushed up to the singer and, with a hard glance at Beck, demanded, “What happened? I heard a gunshot.”

“Seems obvious to me.” Ty moved away from the client. Scowling, he rubbed a hand over his shaved head. “Either casino security or local law enforcement didn’t defend the perimeter like they were supposed to. But your girl is fine.” His gaze darted to Beck. “You hurt?”

Beck shook his head and gave a quick once-over to the client, seeing she was a little pale but otherwise unharmed.

“Mari, honey, is he right? You okay?” The portly, balding manager put his arm around the slender young woman and hugged her to his side.

She pushed neon-pink hair out of her face with a trembling hand. “Y-yeah,” she responded, her voice low and breathy. “I’m fine, Sid.” She moved away from him to face Beck, Ty, and the casino security officer. “Thank you. Thank you all.” She swiped her tongue over her lips, took a deep breath, and looked at Beck with wide eyes. “You took a bullet for me. You saved my life.”

Now that the adrenaline rush was fading, Beck’s back felt like he’d taken a hard punch. Or twelve. From someone wearing brass knuckles. Big ones. He knew he’d bruise where the bullet hit his vest. But it was all in a day’s work. “Just doin’ my job, Ms. Everhard.”

Her eyes darkened as fear receded and sexual interest grew. She touched one hand to his chest. “Call me Mari, please.” He wouldn’t have thought her voice could get any huskier, but somehow it did as she said, “I know you’re assigned to protect me, but I really didn’t think putting yourself in front of a bullet for me was in your job description.”

She was beautiful, even with the God-awful punk hair, but she didn’t do a thing for him. She was too young, too thin, too desperate, and her perfume, something spicy yet musky with a sharp undertone, about knocked him over. It was so pungent. And it clashed with the floral scent of the roses in the room. And everything clashed with the odor of bleach.

He couldn’t help but compare her to Delaney, who was at least ten years older, twenty pounds heavier, and exactly what he wanted.

He stepped back, dislodging her hand, and gave her a smile to try to take away the sting from his rejection. He didn’t want to cause any backlash to the firm—a good word from this client could send dozens more their way—but he also wouldn’t get romantically involved with a client even if he were a free man. Which he wasn’t.

The odor of her perfume began to make his nose itch, so he took another step back and said in even tones, “When you became a client of Red Eagle Group and were assigned a protection detail for your concert, putting myself in front of a bullet became part of my job description.”

“Otherwise you’re not getting what you paid for,” Gabe interjected. He raised a hand and scrubbed the back of his neck. “Though it shouldn’t have been necessary.”

“I see.” Marisol glanced at Gabe, her expression broadcasting her appreciation for his handsomeness. Her gaze drifted down and seemed to clock the wedding ring on his left hand. She looked back at Beck and interest flared in her eyes once more. She crowded in closer. “Well, even if I am paying for it, I’m grateful.” She went up on tiptoe and brushed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. As she drew away, her gaze holding his, she whispered, “I’d like to show you my gratitude for what you did. In private.”

Before Beck could respond, the chief of casino security came into the room. “The threat has been neutralized,” he informed them. His gaze tracked to the entertainer. “Ms. Everhard, are you all right?”

She stepped back from Beck, thank God, and looked at the newcomer. “Yes,” she said and sent another sultry glance to Beck.

“No thanks to you, though,” Gabe told the security chief in a hard voice. His dark eyes flashed. “Where the hell were your men? How did someone with a gun get that close to her?”

A flush rose on the man’s thick neck. “One of my guys wasn’t where he was supposed to be, so we had a hole in the line. The shooter slipped through.” His gaze went back to Marisol. “I cannot apologize enough. We’re doing another sweep now, and will be wanding everyone who comes into the building, but I’d understand if you want to cancel the show. I’ll make the announcement myself if you’d like.”

“Cancel?” Sid interjected. Eyes wide, he shook his head. “We don’t need to cancel. It’s safe now, right?” he asked Beck.

Interesting that he didn’t ask the man in charge of security of the building, Beck thought, but then perhaps Sid didn’t trust him as much as he trusted Red Eagle employees.

“We can protect Ms. Everhard onstage,” Beck assured the man, “but if another shooter gets through casino security—”

“They won’t.” The color of the security chief’s face now matched his ruddy neck. “They won’t,” he repeated with his gaze on the singer. “I guarantee it.”

Ms. Everhard moved closer to Beck and briefly ran her palm over his suit-jacketed biceps. “We could cancel the show. I don’t want anybody to get hurt.” She looked at the casino man. “Are you sure your men can handle things?”

“I’m sure, ma’am.”

She lifted her bony shoulders in a shrug. “Then let the show go on. My fans have paid money and have been waiting in line. I’m not going to disappoint them if I don’t have to.” Then she ruined her selfless gesture by saying in an offhanded manner, “Anyway, I recognized the man who shot at me. It’s that crazy stalker dude from LA. I’m sure he acted on his own.” She rested her hand on Beck’s shoulder. “Besides, with my handsome personal guard here, I know I’ll be safe.”

Beck fought the urge to move away from her again. Twice she might forgive, but a third time would be a direct insult and he wasn’t that cruel. Well, if an assload of money weren’t on the line, he might be, but right now Red Eagle Group needed all the clients and positive word of mouth it could get. That wouldn’t happen if he acted like a dick.

“Maybe you should check the line again?” Ty said to the casino guy. It was phrased as a question but was really a command, one that the security chief immediately followed.

Ms. Everhard’s manager started talking to her, but she ignored him and moved even closer to Beck. Less than two inches separated their bodies, a distance she breached by once again putting a small hand on his chest. Picking right back up where she’d left off, she whispered, “Please come backstage after the concert. You can let me show my appreciation properly.”

Beck hesitated. He wouldn’t be joining her backstage after the concert, but how to let her down easily? He tilted his head to one side, stretching his neck, and felt a vertebra or two crack. He immediately felt a lessening of his physical tension. Now to get this woman off him. He slanted his eyes toward her manager and gave a miniscule jerk of his chin.

Sid got the message. “Come on, Mari.” He took Ms. Everhard’s arm. “Mr. Townsend is fine. You’re fine. Everybody’s fine. Let’s get you ready for your big night.” He urged the singer away from the door and toward the other side of the room, where costumes hung on racks and an illuminated vanity waited.

The young woman left with a last wistful glance and an over-the-shoulder wave at Beck. But go she did.

“You’re such a stud.” Ty shot him a grin. “All the ladies fall in love with you, man.”

Beck scowled. Not all of their female clients came on to him, but enough did that it was irritating and uncomfortable. If he were a young guy in his twenties or even his thirties, he’d be in tomcat heaven. But he wasn’t. The older he got, the older shit like this got. “If it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been you,” he told his friend. “Or Gabe. I don’t think a wedding band would be much of a deterrent to someone like her.” He blew out a breath and scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand, wincing at the pull on his sore back.

“Take that off.” Gabe gestured toward Beck’s vest. “Let’s have a look.”

“I’m good.”

Gabe crossed his arms.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Beck muttered even as he shrugged out of his suit coat. He stuck a finger through the bullet hole in the back and grimaced. Damn. This was his favorite suit. Oh well. It was a price of being in the kind of business he was in, he reckoned. His cut of the fee they charged for their services more than enabled him to buy a new suit.

He glanced at Gabe and saw the blank face that signified his friend had hunkered down and would wait as long as it took for Beck to acquiesce. Gabe had been a sniper in the Marine Corps and had the patience of the devil. Beck shook his head and began undoing the hook-and-loop closures on his vest. He handed the vest to Ty then unbuttoned his shirt and turned away from Gabe.

The other man pulled the shirt down his arms, baring the middle of his back. When he probed the spot where the bullet had struck, Beck flinched and sucked in a breath.
Shit.
That hurt.

“Pansy,” Gabe muttered. He poked around a few more times, each prod sending a jolt of pain radiating outward. One last poke and he said, “Doesn’t feel like anything’s broken. You’re good.”

“Already said that.” Beck settled his shirt around his shoulders and buttoned it then shrugged into his vest. Their work wasn’t yet done for the night. He tucked his shirt into his pants where it had pulled up. “Pain in the ass,” he rumbled with a glare at his tormentor. He knew that last poke had been completely unnecessary.

White teeth flashed in Gabe’s tanned face. “Yeah, that’s what my wife says. But it’s the good kind of pain.” He made a show of studying his nails, almost but not quite successful at hiding the flicker of worry in his eyes.

Gabe’s wife, Vivian, had been fighting cancer for the last several months and was winning, though Beck knew Gabe still worried, as any husband would.

“She gave me three beautiful kids, so she must not mind too much.” Gabe brushed his nails across the lapel of his suit coat then blew on them.

Beck shook his head at his friend’s antics, understanding he didn’t want to talk about his wife’s illness at this juncture. Beck appreciated that because he needed him, all of them, focused on the job at hand. “Come on. We still have work to do.”

The concert went without a hitch. The music, some sort of alternative/grunge/hip-hop mishmash not Beck’s style, was wildly popular if the screams from the audience were anything to go by. A few hours later, with cops talked to, Mari and the Ever Hard Boys escorted to the hotel and secured safely by their own bodyguards—thankfully without Beck having to see Mari for a private expression of gratitude—and Beck half-deaf from the raucous music, he and his teammates sat down at a greasy spoon off the Strip and compared notes over pie and coffee. The click and clank of silverware against plates filtered in from the diners around them.

“That could have been the biggest clusterfuck of all time if you hadn’t seen the gun like you did,” Ty said. He leaned back in the booth and stretched his long legs under the lacquered wood table, muttering an apology when he hit Beck’s feet.

“Yeah, well, thankfully the police are putting the fault squarely on casino security.” Beck poked at a strawberry on his plate. “That one guy had to get a closer look at Mari and left his post, which opened a hole the shooter took advantage of.”

Ty jotted down a few notes on his computer tablet then muttered, “If he were one of ours, he’d by now no longer be one of ours.”

Beck didn’t disagree.

“Be nice when Rafe and Quincy get started with us,” Gabe said around a mouthful of pecan pie. “At least we won’t have to rely so much on dickheads like we had tonight.”

Beck didn’t disagree with that, either.

“I talked to Rafe a couple of days before he and Quince shipped out.” Ty took a sip of coffee. “He told me he doesn’t think their current job will last more than two, three weeks tops.”

“He say where they were headed?” Beck asked, scooping up another bite of pie.

“South America. Nothin’ more specific than that.”

“We really need Rafe on board,” Beck said. “We’ve got that client who wants us to do a threat assessment that includes cybersecurity. Rafe’s the true expert in that area. I’m afraid if we don’t get moving on this soon, we’ll lose the business.”