Close Quarters With the Bodyguard Read online

  He’d rented a hotel suite, not just a room. So there were two bedrooms—with two separate beds—and a big bathroom between them. She wondered if he could afford it, or if the Payne Protection Agency had picked up the tab. Ultimately the police department would—since the chief had hired them because he didn’t trust his own officers to protect those associated with the case.

  The sky was already getting lighter outside, dawn making the blinds glow at the windows. She glanced at the window and shivered.

  “We’re safe here,” Landon said. “The backup Parker promised is outside, guarding the perimeter.”

  And he was inside with her.

  “I wish I’d been allowed in that room at the jail,” he said. “I hated thinking of you alone in there through all those hours of interviews.”

  “Unfortunately, I wasn’t alone,” she remarked.

  “Do you think you got through to any of them?”

  She shrugged and flinched as the torn jacket rubbed against her scraped shoulder. “I think you were right. That they’re all too afraid of Luther to risk testifying against them.”

  After the attempts on her life, was Rosie too afraid now? Jocelyn wouldn’t blame her if she was. She had not enjoyed getting shot at either.

  “I don’t know,” Landon said as he continued to stare down at her. “You’re pretty damn scary yourself. I’m sure you threatened the hell out of them and got them thinking.”

  People commented on her appearance all the time, but those compliments never affected her. His comment—about her being scary—might not have even been a compliment, but given her profession, she took it as such and smiled.

  He chuckled. “You’re happy about being scary.”

  She nodded. “Yes.” But then she looked up at his handsome face grinning down at her, and she was the one afraid—very afraid—of how he made her feel.

  Of how much she wanted him.

  His mouth curved down as the grin slid away, and his brown eyes darkened. “You are so damn scary,” he murmured with a shaky breath.

  “You’re afraid of me?” she asked. If he would have admitted that earlier, she might have thought he had something to hide—like his association with Luther Mills. But she didn’t believe that anymore.

  If he was working for Luther, he wouldn’t have risked his life for hers. He would have just let her get shot, killed. But instead, he’d saved her life.

  “I’m terrified,” he said.

  The thought that he could be afraid of her had a laugh bubbling up from her throat. “Yeah, right.”

  He touched her with just his fingertips sliding along her jaw. “You do,” he insisted. “You scare me because of how damn much I want you.”

  Then his mouth lowered to hers, covering it, as he kissed her. There was such heat, such passion, in the kiss.

  Her heart pounded, her skin heated...and that fear she’d felt intensified. But now she was afraid that he would stop, that something would make him stop like it had the other times he’d kissed her.

  He was tense, too, as if he was braced for the same thing. But no gunfire rang out. There was no sound but their pants for breath as the kiss went on and on.

  Not wanting him to pull away, she slid her hands around his nape, holding his head down to hers. His thick hair was soft against her skin. She wanted to feel it against more than her fingers.

  But he pulled back and broke the kiss. Maybe he just needed air because he panted for breath—like she did.

  She wanted him. So she reached for him again, tugged at his shirt. She dragged it from his jeans and over his abdomen. His stomach rippled with sculpted muscles. The man was so damn perfect.

  But the shirt caught on his holster and went no farther up. A protest slipped through her lips.

  And he grinned. But he didn’t pull off his holster. Instead, he undid the buttons on her suit jacket. He was careful of the scrape on her shoulder when he eased it down her arms. It dropped to the floor. Then he lowered his lips to her shoulder and gently kissed the wound. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “You saved me,” she said as she reached for the button of his jeans.

  “Is that what this is about?” he asked. “Gratitude?”

  She snorted. “This is about greed. I want to feel something besides fear and frustration. I want to feel passion.” And with him, she felt that more intensely than she ever had before.

  He grinned again. “What about pleasure?”

  “Can you give me that?” she asked, knowing she’d issued a challenge.

  One he obviously accepted as he swung her up in his arms. He carried her into the bedroom where he’d brought her overnight bag. They weren’t spending the night, though, since it was already almost morning. Light filtered through the blinds on the window.

  He laid her on the bed. But before following her down, he removed his gun and holster, setting them on the table next to the bed. Then he pulled his shirt up and over his head. Next he reached for the button of his jeans. He undid it and lowered the zipper.

  And Jocelyn’s breath rasped out along with the sound of the zipper lowering. He was so damn sexy...

  Just looking at him brought her pleasure, had heat coursing through her body. Had certain spots tingling and throbbing with desire.

  He kicked off his jeans but left on his knit boxers. His erection strained against them, though, begging to be released. She reached for him, but he didn’t join her on the bed. Instead, he knelt beside it, and he started undressing her now. He moved his hands down the front of the sleeveless blouse she’d worn beneath her jacket. He carefully and slowly released every button.

  Why were there so many buttons?

  Her breath caught each time his fingertips brushed across the skin he exposed. Her heart pounded fast and furiously. She wanted his hands on her, wanted him touching her.

  A moan of frustration slipped through her lips.

  And he chuckled.

  Then her blouse parted. She arched up and jerked it off her shoulders, uncaring of the scrape on her skin. That pain was nothing compared to the tension winding so tightly inside her. She felt as if she might snap.

  Before he could torture her any more, she unclasped her skirt and lowered the zipper. Then she wriggled out of it until she lay on the bed clad only in her blue silk underwear.

  A groan emanated from him now, and it sounded as if he was being tortured. He stared down at her, his face flushed and his nostrils flaring. “You are beautiful...”

  When he said it, the praise affected her because she suspected he wasn’t one to throw around empty compliments. From the look on his face, he was obviously sincere.

  Her skin heated even more just from his look. Then he touched...running his fingertips along her every curve, from her neck to the arch of her foot. Despite the heat, she shivered as sensations raced through her.

  Then he unclasped the front closure of her bra and pushed it away from her breasts. And he touched them...cupping them in his hands as he stroked his thumbs across the peaks of them.

  She arched up from the bed as that tension wound painfully tight. “Landon...”

  She needed him like she couldn’t remember ever needing anyone else. She needed him to ease the tension, to give her the pleasure he’d promised.

  Then he moved his hands from her breasts to her waist. He pushed her panties down, his hands skimming over her ass and along her thighs as he discarded the scrap of silk. He continued to stroke her legs and hips as he leaned across her. And as his hands moved over her, his mouth closed around a nipple. He nipped lightly at it, and she cried out.

  He pulled back. “Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head in denial. But she was hurting—so bad. She’d never felt as out of control, a feeling she usually hated. But for some reason with Landon it felt liberating.

  She reached for him, runn
ing her hands over all his hard muscles. But he didn’t let her pull him down onto the bed with her. Instead, he stayed beside it, just leaning over her body. His mouth moved from her breast, over her abdomen to her core.

  She arched up again and cried out at just the heat of his breath touching her there. Then his fingers slid inside her, as his tongue flicked over her most sensitive part. And she cried out as the tension eased a little.

  “Wow,” he murmured. “You’re responsive.”

  She was desperate and needy. And what he’d just done wasn’t enough. She clutched at his shoulders, trying to pull him onto the bed with her—onto her.

  But he held back. She heard something tear. Then she glanced down and saw him rolling a condom on the length of his erection. He was big everywhere. So damn big...

  Finally he joined her on the bed, but he held his weight off her. Lowering only his mouth to hers, he kissed her deeply—over and over again. His lips nipped at hers; his tongue teased hers.

  “Landon.” She murmured his name again—in an unspoken plea.

  And finally he lowered his body to hers.

  She lifted her legs and locked them around his waist, as he eased his erection inside her. He was so big that she had to shift and arch and move to take him deeper. And still she could not take all of him.

  He moved his hips with gentle thrusts. But instead of easing the tension, he just built it more.

  She was going out of her mind. She raked her nails down his back to his butt, clasping him against her. Then she nipped her teeth into his shoulder and rubbed her breasts against his chest.

  He shuddered. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  “Good!” She didn’t want to be the only one slipping into madness. She arched her hips more, trying to take him deeper, trying to move him faster.

  He chuckled, but the sound was gruff, like his pants for breath. His chest moved with his harsh breathing, the soft hair brushing over her nipples.

  She bit her lip. And he brushed his tongue across it. Then he arched back and moved his head lower until his tongue brushed across a nipple. Pleasure moved from that point to where she throbbed in her core. She needed more, though.

  And then his thumb was there, brushing over her as he slid deeper inside her. He moved her legs higher and thrust deeper yet.

  And finally that tension broke as an orgasm moved through her. The intensity of it had her crying out as her body shuddered. He kept thrusting, pushing her to another one before the first had even finished.

  The second was even more intense, and she shouted his name now. Then he tensed, and a low groan tore from his throat as his big body shuddered against hers for a long while.

  He flopped onto his back next to her as he panted even louder for breath. “You are so damn scary, Jocelyn Gerber.”

  But she was the one who was scared now—to her core. She’d never experienced anything as intense or as pleasurable as what they’d just done, as what he’d just given her. She was afraid that it—and he—might begin to matter to her—too much. She’d vowed long ago to focus only on her job. She’d wanted no distractions.

  But she’d never met anyone who distracted her as much as Landon Myers did. He was the far bigger threat to her than Luther Mills ever was.

  Luther lay back on his uncomfortable bunk and closed his eyes. But he couldn’t close his ears to all the chatter around him. He knew Jocelyn Gerber had survived another shooting attempt. He knew because she’d been in his house. The jail had become his house because of her—because she’d managed to outwit his high-priced lawyer and make sure bail had been denied him.

  He owed the bitch for that. Hell, he owed her for a lot. She’d spent last night trying to turn members of his crew against him, trying to get them to finger him for giving the order to kill Rosie Mendez and Clint Quarters, and then she’d promised them lighter sentences.

  He blew out a breath and even managed a chuckle. That was her problem. She couldn’t entirely forgo justice. If she’d offered to drop the charges in exchange for their testimony, she might have found someone willing to talk. But his men knew that if they were in here—in his house with him—they wouldn’t survive betraying him. He would kill every last one of them, just like he intended to kill every last person associated with his trial.

  Maybe he’d made a mistake in starting with the witness, though. Maybe he should have started with Jocelyn Gerber.

  But it didn’t matter when she died. His men wouldn’t talk to her. Nobody dared to turn on him—not since his killing Javier Mendez. He just had to make sure the only thing that came of his killing Javi was a lesson to everybody not to betray him. He could not get a murder conviction and life sentence out of this.

  That was Jocelyn Gerber’s intention—to send him to prison for the rest of his life. So, yeah, hers had to end soon before she could make good on her intention.

  Chapter 11

  What the hell had he done?

  Landon hadn’t just crossed the line with Jocelyn Gerber; he’d trampled all over it. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. His assignment was to protect, not to fall for her. Not that he was falling.

  He had no time for love. No time for a relationship. And he couldn’t afford any distractions right now, not with Luther Mills trying to get away with murder.

  Landon had spent too many years trying to bring Luther to justice to help him escape it now. If something happened to Jocelyn, there was a damn good chance that Luther would not be convicted.

  Like Spencer Dubridge, Landon believed the person who’d shot up her house was someone she worked with, someone who knew where she lived.

  They were at her office at the district attorney’s now. While she sat behind her desk, speaking on the phone, Landon stared out the window in her door, watching people watch them. He recognized the two guys he’d met, but they weren’t the only ones taking an unnatural interest in him and Jocelyn.

  “I’m going to get some coffee,” Landon told Jocelyn, but he said it more for those standing outside her office than for her benefit. When he jerked open the door, he startled a young man who jumped and lost a folder he was carrying.

  Landon bent down to help him pick it up and noticed the guy was shaking. “I’m sorry,” he told him, then narrowed his eyes and asked, “Are you okay?”

  The young man nodded. “Yes. I just—I just had to bring them to Ms. Gerber. I’m a paralegal.”

  Landon took the folder from his hand and promised, “I’ll make sure she gets it.”

  A sigh slipped through the young man’s lips and he murmured a grateful “Thanks” before rushing away.

  Just as he’d told her, Jocelyn was scary as hell. Even scarier to Landon now that he’d had sex with her. He’d never felt anything as intense as what they’d shared. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what it had been, and before he’d been able to figure it out, her cell had blared out an alarm.

  It must have been her wake-up call for work—since she’d scrambled to get ready to come into the office. But it had been Landon’s wake-up call to remind him that keeping her safe was his job—not seducing her.

  But he wasn’t exactly sure who had seduced whom. She’d seemed to want him as badly as he’d wanted her. As he still wanted her...

  His hand shook, and the folder nearly slipped from his grasp. He glanced down at it and noticed it was a dossier on her coworkers. Despite her arguing that nobody in her office could be Luther’s mole, she must have had her doubts, or she wouldn’t have asked the young paralegal to compile the information for her.

  No wonder the kid had been so nervous. He hadn’t wanted any of his coworkers to know that he’d helped her investigate them. He shouldn’t have been the one doing it. Landon was the one who needed to help her, not just to keep her safe but because he personally wanted to deal with whoever the hell kept shooting at them.

  So, after making sure
his backup bodyguards were within sight of Jocelyn, Landon continued down the hall toward the employee break room. He wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, but he approached the pot a few other people loitered around. Mike Forbes and Dale Grohms glanced up at him with feigned surprise. They’d been close enough to her office to overhear him telling Jocelyn where he was going.

  He smiled as he reached for a cup and the pot. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

  “Morning?” Dale asked. “It’s a little later than that now.”

  “That’s because Jocelyn was late this morning,” Mike Forbes said. “What’s up with that lately? Your fault?”

  Landon chuckled. “What makes you think I have anything to do with it?”

  “You’ve become her shadow lately,” Forbes said. “And I’m not buying the boyfriend act. Who are you really?”

  “You don’t know?” the young paralegal asked from where he stood behind the men. “He’s a bodyguard with the Payne Protection Agency.”

  Had Jocelyn had the kid investigate him as well as her coworkers? How did he know who Landon was? Landon studied the kid now, wondering if he’d been more nervous over running into him than he’d been over having that folder on him. Had he met the kid before, back when he’d been working vice?

  Could he be one of Luther’s crew or at least an indebted customer? He narrowed his eyes and studied the kid—even while he felt everyone else studying him.

  “Is it true?” Grohms asked. “Are you her bodyguard?”

  “I’m a bodyguard,” Landon admitted. There was no point in denying what they could easily find out on their own.

  “Why does Jocelyn need a bodyguard?” Dale asked.

  “Didn’t you hear about the shooting at her house last night?” the kid asked. And now the other men were studying him as intently as Landon was.

  They were surprised that he knew, but they didn’t look surprised about the shooting. They’d already known about it. How? Because one of them had been the shooter? Or was it now just common knowledge around the office?

  “I don’t envy you,” Dale Grohms said.