Necessary Risk (Bodyguard) (14 page)

“Jack Nikolaidis,” said Jack, tugging his hand back, trying as subtly as possible to shake it out. He turned his attention back to Sierra and laid a hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“It’s good to see you. You look great. Really great.” He stood back and surveyed her again, smiling brightly. “What are you doing here?” he asked, slipping his hands into his pockets, his charm-o-meter cranked all the way up to eleven. He rocked back on his heels, watching her with genuine interest—an interest that was entirely one-sided. They’d broken up nearly six months ago now, and she hadn’t forgotten his drinking and how bad it’d gotten. The nasty things he’d said. The way he’d tried to control her, bully her even. Yes, he was handsome, well educated, and ambitious, but he’d only ever been interested in her Hollywood connections and how good she’d looked on his arm at events.

And like hell she would ever settle for that. She’d rather be alone than with a man who wasn’t all in.

“I had a meeting with the Choices board.”

His eyebrows rose and he frowned slightly. “I heard about the attacks on the news.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue in sympathy. “I had a feeling getting involved with them was a bad idea.”

The urge to roll her eyes was so strong that she almost pulled a muscle restraining herself.

“You wouldn’t know anything about those attacks, would you, Jack?” asked Sean, and she craned her neck to look up at him, wondering where he’d gotten that idea. His hand came to rest possessively on her lower back, and she relaxed into him, releasing tension she hadn’t realized was there. Jack’s gaze slid from Sierra to where Sean’s hand rested and then up to Sean’s face.

Jack’s thick black brows drew together, his head tipping forward. “What?”

“You’re well connected, and I was wondering if you’d heard anything. Rumors, maybe? Anything that could give us a more substantial lead.” Sean studied him intently. What was he getting at? Sierra felt as though she’d missed something and was struggling to keep up with the conversation.

After a second, Jack shook his head. “No. I wish I could help you. You know, for a second there, I thought you were accusing
me
of being involved in the attacks.”

Sean stared at him for several beats before speaking. “No, of course not. But if you could keep your ears open, use any connections you have to find out who’s behind this, it’d be a huge help.”

Jack nodded gravely, stepping a little bit closer and turning his attention back to Sierra. “Absolutely. If there’s anything I can do to help, all you have to do is ask. Seriously. I care about your well-being.”

“Yes, well. I
am
one of your constituents. And you know I vote.”

He laughed, pointing a finger at her. “I always liked your sense of humor.” He glanced at Sean again before smiling at her. “It really is good to see you, Sierra.” He checked his watch. “I have to run. I’ve got a meeting, and then I’ve got to get back to Sacramento. Listen, I’m glad we ran into each other, and I’m glad you’re OK. If I can help, call me. Please. And I promise to do the same if I hear anything.”

“Thanks, Jack. I appreciate that.” With a friendly nod and smile, he headed back toward the elevators. She appreciated his concern and his offer to help, but she knew she wouldn’t be taking him up on it. Jack was firmly in her past, and she liked it that way.

“He seemed…” Sean frowned, his nostrils flaring slightly as a puzzled look crossed his face. “Nice, actually.”

“You sound surprised.”

“That’s because I am.”

They started toward the front doors of the lobby, and she debated how much to tell him. She’d never told anyone the whole truth about why her relationship with Jack had imploded. But with Sean…she knew she could trust him. She was surprised to find how much she wanted to tell him. “He
is
nice. Most of the time. When things are going his way and he hasn’t been drinking.”

Sean wrapped a hand around her upper arm and turned her to face him, bringing their steps to a halt. “He’s a mean drunk?”

She nodded, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “Oh yeah.”

Sean’s features tightened, and something burned in his deep-brown eyes. He dropped his voice to a near whisper. “Did he ever hurt you? Hit you?” His free hand curled into a fist, the skin tight over his knuckles.

“No. He never got physical. It was only ever verbal.” She asked the question that had been pressing on her. “Why did you ask him about the attacks? That kinda came out of left field.”

“I wanted to see how he’d react.”

“Why? You don’t think he’s involved, do you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not impossible.”

“Have you been talking to Taylor?”

“No, why?”

Sierra rolled her eyes. “She thinks Jack might have something to do with the attacks too.”

“And you don’t?”

“No. I think it’s Sacrosanct.” It was the most logical explanation, and putting an identity on her attackers gave her an ounce of comfort. At least that way she knew where to direct her anger. She knew who to blame. Without a target, she had nowhere to go with that anger, and it would sit inside her, burning a hole through her chest.

“Jack threatened you when you broke up with him.”

She looked up at him and blinked slowly. “How did you know about that?”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and glanced up at the ceiling. “I overheard your conversation the other night when your friends were over.”

She couldn’t help the flash of anger that rushed through her. “You were eavesdropping on me?” It was hard enough having him around 24/7, having to constantly wade through the quicksand of her attraction to him, being physically close to him and trying to keep some kind of emotional distance.

“Not on purpose.” He reached out and wrapped his other hand around her arm, now holding her firmly in place with both hands. Funny how hard it was to feel annoyed with him when he was touching her with those hands. “Sierra, I want to find out who’s doing this to you, and that means exploring every angle. If you want to be mad at me, go ahead, but I’m not sorry I listened in.”

She blew out a breath and forced herself to relax, not wanting to pick a fight. “I’m not mad. Sorry I snapped at you. I think I’m just feeling a little…” She made her hands into claws, holding them up in front of her, trying to show him how she felt. “Caged. Which isn’t your fault. I think all of this is getting to me a bit more than I realized.”

“Completely understandable. Having 24/7 security can feel oppressive. But it’s the only way I can make sure you’re safe.”

“I know.” She laid a hand on his chest, and his heart thumped against her palm, steady and sure.

*  *  *

Sean, Ian, and Sierra stared at the brown box sitting on Sierra’s front porch. Sean studied the package, which had just been delivered by a private courier, looking for any signs it was dangerous. Sean and Ian had agreed that the package couldn’t come inside, and Ian had already texted Clay, Virtus’s investigator, to see if he could trace its origins. The box itself was about two feet tall and a foot wide and was unmarked except for Sierra’s name and address. She reached out a hand toward it, and Sean grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t touch it,” he said, and the words came out gruffer than he’d intended. Not because he was annoyed with her but because each time his skin came in contact with hers he wanted to grab her and kiss her, and so, so much more.

“Clay says that the package was shipped anonymously, and whoever sent it paid cash,” said Ian, his eyes on his phone, and Sierra’s head whipped in his direction. “He’s going to see if he can get security cam footage from the courier service so we can see who dropped it off.”

“You’re Scottish?” she asked.

“Aye.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard you speak before.”

Ian shrugged in response.

Sierra crossed her arms in front of her, frowning as she studied the box. “How on earth did your investigator find that out so quickly?”

“Clay has a lot of connections, and he’s very good at his job,” said Sean. “If this package was sent without sender information and the courier was paid cash, we have to treat this as a threat. The house is secure?”

Ian nodded. “Aye.”

Sean tore his eyes from the box and swiveled his gaze back to Sierra. “I’m going to check it out. I need you to go in the house.”

Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip. “If it’s that dangerous, I don’t want you touching it either.”

He stroked a hand down her arm, trying to reassure her. “I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.” After completing the necessary training to be a licensed bodyguard, he’d continued taking courses. He knew how to deal with just about any kind of threat, whether it was from a person, from an object, or technological.

She rubbed a hand over her forehead. “Let’s just call the police. Let them deal with it.”

“We will. But if there’s something really dangerous in here, I need to do something about it right now. And to do that, I need you to go in the house. Now.”

She hesitated before finally nodding reluctantly, and he relaxed slightly, knowing she’d be safe from whatever the package contained. Surprising him, she reached up and laid her palm on his cheek. “Be careful.” Something bright and intense shone in her green eyes, and his entire body tightened.

He nodded, and her fingers curled into him, her fingertips rasping against his beard. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t help it.”

Despite everything, he came within inches of saying, “Fuck it” and grabbing her and kissing her. He struggled and failed to find something to say. He didn’t have words for the conflicting jumble of emotions crashing over him, all blurring together. So instead he tipped his head toward the front door. “Go.”

With big, worried eyes, she watched him as she unlocked the front door and let herself in the house, Ian following her. She appeared seconds later in the living room window to the right.

Sean quickly retreated to the SUV and retrieved a pair of black nitrile gloves from the box he kept in the trunk. After pulling them on, he crouched down in front of the package, studying it intently. There were no stains or leaks, no suspicious marks on the outside. The box itself was pristine, “Miss Blake” written in simple block lettering across the top in black marker. It was sealed with ordinary packing tape across the top, her address in plain type on a white label.

Leaning forward, he inhaled deeply, trying to catch the scent of anything unusual. Gunpowder, acid, the scent of almonds, which would indicate the presence of cyanide, or anything else out of the ordinary. But besides the papery scent of the cardboard, he couldn’t detect anything. He cocked his head, listening for any sounds, like ticking, grinding, or beeping, but again, there was nothing. The leaves of the sycamore rustled softly, and a car horn blared several streets over, but nothing came from the box.

As carefully as possible, he lifted the box, testing its weight. It was light, almost insubstantial, but he could feel something shift inside as he picked it up. Given how light it was, it was unlikely to be an explosive, but he walked the box to the end of the driveway just to be sure. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out a Swiss Army knife and slit the tape down the center. With the tip of the knife, he eased back the flaps and peered inside.

Red. For a second that was all he could see. The box was filled with dismembered baby doll parts, all covered in red dye. His grip on the box tightened, the cardboard creaking under the pressure. “Son of a bitch,” he bit out, trying to get a handle on the rage coursing through him. If he ever got his hands on whoever was doing this to Sierra…fuck. He’d probably end up in jail.

A note was taped to the inside of the box.

Seeing as you’re all about
choices
, here’s one for you, Miss Blake: Back off now, and you won’t get hurt. Refuse, and you just might end up like the millions you’ve helped send to the slaughter.

The note was unsigned, but the message it contained made him think it had to be from Sacrosanct. Maybe he’d been barking up the wrong tree with Jack after all.

“Sean?” Sierra’s voice from a few feet behind him almost made him jump. He spun to face her, trying to block her view of the box, wanting to shield her from the fear he knew the note and the box’s contents would bring.

“You don’t need to see this. It’s from Sacrosanct. More of the same shit. We’ll call the cops.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and stepped around him, coming face-to-face with the disturbing contents of the box. He should’ve known better than to try to hide something from her. She froze as she read the note, her cheeks going pale.

Fuck. This was why he hadn’t wanted her to see it.

“Oh, God,” she breathed, fingers pressed to her mouth. “They’re threatening to kill me.” The words came out quiet and shaky, her eyes glued to the broken doll pieces, and his chest ached for her, over the shit Sacrosanct was putting her through. Her breaths came fast and shallow and then she was in his arms, her face pressed tight against his chest. He wasn’t sure who’d moved first, if he’d reached for her or she’d turned to him. It didn’t matter. Instinct took over, and he turned his back on the box, sheltering her from it. He stroked a hand up and down her back, the other arm wrapped firmly around her. She shook in his arms, trembles racking her small body. She smelled warm and sweet, like vanilla and honey, and he pulled her tighter against him, wishing he could shoulder this for her. Wishing there were something he could do or say to make everything better. To take away the fear and the anger and the helplessness. And wanting, more than anything, to catch the assholes putting her through this.