Bodyguard Dearest (Bodyguard #1) (4 page)

Tanner

This girl has been a ball busting pain in my ass since the day I took over the family’s protection almost three years ago. The first morning I reported to work, she’d been out all night and never returned home. I found her passed out in the arms of a skinny twit under the bleachers of a high school football field.

Out of all of Jordan Kane’s daughters she’s the least spoiled but also the hardest to handle. She’s intelligent, I’ll give her that. Her serial defiance might be admirable if it weren’t so completely reckless. How does that work exactly? How can someone so intelligent do such senseless things?

Jordan Kane isn’t just powerful and dangerous. He has also caused a lot of damage to a lot of people. There’s no shortage of those who want leverage against him or just want to ruin his life the way he had done theirs.

She can’t fucking get it through her head that the more erratic her behavior becomes, the bigger the walking target she becomes. This is basic shit in her father’s world. The girl needs a good blue-collar spanking, the one she missed in her privileged childhood.

I wasn’t on the job when her brother was killed. That would have never happened on my watch. I don’t fail. I’ve never lost an assignment. They’re all still breathing.

Tris sits on the couch, smiling at me in the most provocative way she can muster, no doubt hoping she’ll get me to lose my concentration. Amateur hour. She thought she was safe from my watch up here in this dingy Canadian town. She thought she had managed to fool everyone this time when in reality I’ve been on her trail since the moment she snuck out the bathroom window of her uncle’s home during the holiday family gathering and walked all the way to the bus stop where she had hidden a bag under the bench.

When the fuck did she hide that bag? She probably had someone help her cause I’ve been her shadow every time she steps out of the house. She doesn’t know how dedicated I am. She doesn’t know I’ve made it my personal mission to know what she does and with whom. Because I hate surprises and Tris Kane, well, she is full of them.

The girl is a fucking time bomb but she won’t go off. Not on my watch.

“Listen, Tanner,” she says, changing her tone, “I know I can be a headache for your security team but look at it this way. If you let me disappear, no more headaches.”

Nice try—well, not really. Her suggestion pisses me off more than any insult ever could. I don’t abandon my charge, not even when I sleep, and I certainly don’t let a client slip off into the wilderness. I would think by now she would know me better.

“We’re leaving in five minutes,” I say sternly. “Powder your nose. Collect your shit.”

She flashes me one of her intensely disapproving glances, the type that probably means she’s trying to come up with another plan to lose me. Dumb. Just dumb. The girl probably hates me right now. Always probably. I don’t give a shit. Tris Kane is a pampered rich girl. That’s all. This is my job. I take it seriously. I’m not going to let her get to me.

Trista

I
despise him. Did I say that already? When he brought me back when I ran away with Vaughn, Tanner Hayes crossed a line. He had no right. I was nineteen already and free to go wherever I wanted with whomever I wanted. But that never bothered my father or Tanner for that matter. They treat me like my personal will doesn’t matter one ounce—not that I cared all that much about that coward, Vaughn, but it was my choice to make.

It took all of about three days for Tanner to show up in a black armored minivan, terrifying the entire neighborhood when he started pacing around in a dark suit, a menacing scowl and a highly visible handgun flashing from his shoulder holster.

It’s hard to forget how he aggressively questioned neighbors and passersby alike for over an hour even though he knew exactly where to find me. By the time he was done, the whole town wanted me gone.

So here we are, yet again—this swollen specimen of a man all that’s standing between me and my freedom. Would it help if I yelled? Would anyone call the police in this dive motel? I doubt it.

I should probably get smart and try to buy myself some time. He watches me closely as I get off the couch and walk to the closet where I left my suitcase.

“How old are you? Forty-five? Don’t you want to do something besides take orders?” I say this to throw him off.

I know he’s thirty. I know he served in Afghanistan when he was in his early twenties although I’m not sure what he did there exactly. It’s not like Tanner Hayes is an open book or a chatter box. In fact, I don’t think I’ve heard him talk as much as he has today in a very long time and I have definitely never heard him mention his personal life. I don’t think he has one.

Does he have parents, uncles, siblings? Does he have a home somewhere? Does he fuck anyone ever at all? Does he even have a penis? Does he play with it? Does he go to the bathroom? No clue.

I do know that he growls under his breath and it’s, well, almost sensual. I hate that being female I am therefore aware of all his brutish attributes. I want to bang my head against a wall every time I steal a curious glance at him.

No one should find the person they detest most attractive.

“Get on with it,” he coughs out his order, giving me an angry stare. “The five minutes are almost up. Buy more junk when you get home. Take daddy’s credit card. Thirty seconds and I’ll be dragging you out, suitcase or not.”

He wants me to get ready? Okay, I guess that’s what I’ll do. Cause I’m as sure as hell not going out in my flannel shirt and lounge pants. This outfit was motel room intended only. Rural Canada or not I’m not going out like an urchin.

I turn my back to him. I take a quick breath, roll my eyes and pull down my pants. I wonder if Mr. Professional is taking a peek. I imagine him quietly growling. Maybe he did. I suddenly feel more naked than before.

Taking my sweet time, gliding the pants down to my ankles and feet, I’m dying to know where his eyes are staring. It takes a lot of effort not to peek. I’ve been told before I have a cute butt, but who knows what this beast likes? Probably giant Viking women.

I put my hands under the hem of my flannel shirt to pull it off. I think I hear him shift his position on the couch but I can’t be certain. At least I shut him up. As my skin gets all tingly from the cool air and I’m left standing in nothing but my panties—no bra, thank you very much, this was supposed to be strictly
me
time spent watching bad cable movies and eating chips—it hits me that I have to consider the possibility that the reason Tanner pisses me off so much is precisely because I’m physically obsessed with him.

I bend over to reach into my suitcase. I take my time. No man can keep his eyes off a woman bending over.

Not so professional now, are you, big guy?

I mean, just the thought of being taken by this savage, getting lost in all that goodly, bulging muscle mass, hoisted around and played with for hours… lord, yes, I’m one hundred percent certain he could go on for hours with the proper incentives. Not to mention he might…

But then my mind goes blank because—guess what—he just fucking pinched my nipple.

*

Tanner

She starts undressing right in front of me, reminding me what I’ve known for some time. Jordan Kane’s youngest daughter is a full-fledged woman now, with all the right curves in all the right places. I’ve spent a lot of energy avoiding illicit thoughts about her smooth, inviting skin. My senses sharpen on long drives home accompanying her from distant coffee shops or college libraries. I become hyper aware of her scents, her breathing, the shapes her lips make.

What the fuck is she doing?
She’s taking off her shirt. I can see the reflection of her surprisingly bountiful tits in the darkening window glass, instantly giving me a hard-on.

She leans over to take something out of the suitcase that’s splayed on a foldout chair inside the closet, presenting me with a round, firm ass under a tiny pair of white cotton panties.

That fucking girl. She’s fucking perfect with her firm tits and soft hips and she damn well knows it. She wants to drive me crazy so I lose focus. It won’t work. My self-control is something she’d never understand.

I get up and reach her in two long strides, throwing a hand around her ribcage to find her right nipple. I pinch hard, letting her know I’m the boss.

The plan was to shock her because I’m getting tired of these games, but also because she’s a fucking distraction that won’t go away.

Touching her crudely wakes me up from any strange ideas as to what our actual relationship might be. I’m a hired hand. She’s a trust fund brat. That’s all there is to it.

Her nipple bunches up under my pinching fingers and she lets out a shocked gasp, eyes almost popping out of their sockets as she turns around to face me. She doesn’t know what to think of this new development which is good. Whatever game she thought she was playing is over. This is my world, my terms. I’m pleased to keep her speechless for a while.

“Behave,” I say. “I’m getting tired of your antics.”

She licks her lips but it’s not in a sexual way. It’s in a confused, I-didn’t-see-that-coming kind of way. Have I gone too far? All I know is touching her like that feels fucking good.

“Let go of me,” she says with quivering lips, “this second.” She can’t say it with any conviction. I think she likes it. Her confusion amuses me beyond words. She doesn’t put her hand on my hand to try to remove it. She’s not moving away at all.

Finally, she knows who dictates the rules here.

I release her hardened nipple, glaring at her. It takes a lot of focus not to stare at her naked body but I manage to keep my eyes locked on hers by some miracle. I’m not a pervert and I’m not a sex fiend. I knew she was only doing this to test me, to weaken me.

“I should bend you over my knee and spank your ass red,” I tell her, “but it’s the holidays and I’d like to be home before Christmas Eve.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” she says, still confused.

“I’d be much cooler if we could get going.”

“Wait, why Christmas Eve? Why can’t we be home today? You didn’t fly here? We’re actually driving all the way back?”

“Do I look like a bird to you?” I say, turning my face away. I can’t believe she’s already acting like nothing’s happened. Quick recovery. She’s tougher than I thought. “Get dressed,” I tell her. “No more of your delay tactics.”

I can hear how she slides her arms through the sleeves of her sweater.

“You better hope I never mention your tactics, you Neanderthal.”

She won’t. Despite all her rich girl drama, she has a sense of occasion. She knows she brought that on herself. Play with fire and you’ll get pinched.

The minute we get back home I’ll need a day off, far away from Tris.

Trista

O
h my god, that just happened. I have no idea how to process this. Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared me for Tanner’s rough fingers on my sensitive nipple. I’m sure he thinks I was asking for it. I would be furious if I wasn’t so turned on. I’m actually hoping for more

What the hell is wrong with me? As soon as I’m dressed and my suitcase is packed, he nudges me to the door. It’s already getting dark. The snow falls like a dream. It seems to be falling even faster under the street lights.

“Are you sure it’s safe to drive in this blizzard?” I ask him when he takes me to his SUV.

“A blizzard? I forget how sheltered you’ve been. This is just regular snowfall.” He won’t even look at me. He’s too busy cleaning his mirror and checking his tires.

“There’s nothing regular about this,” I say. “It’s kind of magical.”

He finally gives me a small brow furrowing. “Sure. You think that because you’re a pure southern California breed. You’ve had no exposure to the seasons or standard weather changes.”

“Great, just keep insulting me. I’d prefer to hate you as much as possible.”

“Your feelings for me are irrelevant,” he says, opening the passenger door. “You must do whatever I command while you’re within my jurisdiction.”

“Jurisdiction? You have none. You’re such a dick.”

“Said the weakling,” he says, pushing my shoulder down to get me in the car.

Do you really call a girl a weakling?
Challenging him right now has absolutely no benefit, but I can’t help myself. “Someday my father will kick the bucket and I’ll be your boss. I’d like to see how cocky you are then.”

“What you call cockiness, I call nerve. If you are in charge, my nerve will be the only thing to keep you from the wolves.”

I laugh. “The wolves? Your imagination is absolutely childlike.”

“When you talk to a child,” he says, “you talk this way.”

“You’re not cool,” I say, tiring of his constant condescension.

“Honestly, if the old man dies, it’ll be the last you’ll see of me.”

“Really? So much for your legendary loyalty. Typical bullshit.”

“Thought you’d be thrilled to see me go,” he says with a wink before he eases the car forward through fresh snow and out onto a narrow road.

*