The Billionaire's Dare (Book 4 - Billionaire Bodyguard Series) (6 page)

“So…I’ll just keep going.” He shoved the two sentences of cards to the middle of the table, awaiting some revelation from her.

“Adam,” she said, drawing out his name. “Out of curiosity. What does your company charge?”

“Uh…for what?”

“You know, a bodyguard.”

“Why?”

“No reason. Just curious.” Then, as if he’d been a hypnotist snapping his fingers, she broke out of her distant state. “You’re doing really well with these sentences.”

Yeah, right. “No reason” my ass.

He made a show of checking his watched and stretched with a loud yawn. “I’m just not feeling the tutoring thing today. I have an important meeting at five,” he lied. “I’d better do some research, before I walk in and Cade grills me on how I never come prepared.”

“Oh. Okay. Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He stood and swiped his leather jacket off the plastic seatback.
Whatever you’re planning, baby girl, I’m
gonna figure out your angle.

On the steps of her front porch, he paused and reached into his pocket. He withdrew his business card, held it out to her between two fingers. “In case you ever need anything. The eight-hundred number goes to our call center.”

“Oh.” Her gaze latched onto the thick slip of paper like she stared at a get-out-of-jail-free card. She raised her eyes to him, two pools of deep blue intensity fueled by gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. So we’re on for Monday?”

“Yes. Monday? Sure. I’ll be in touch.” She shut the door in his face.

Didn’t she remember they always made firm plans for his next session? Something was off. Way off. She’d even forgotten this was Thursday, and he should be back here tomorrow.
Not likely,
he thought.

What just happened to rock your world, honey?
It wasn’t him, obviously. S
omething, or someone,
way more important. He slid onto his bike and peered at her closed door. She’d shut him out. He hated it.

Grabbing his cell phone, he hit the button to engage the voice-activated texting option. “Slone Rowan, text message,” he said into the speaker.

Slone’s contact info popped up and went straight to text mode. “Marissa is going to call for bodyguard service. When it comes through, I need to know. ASAP.”

He pressed End, slid his phone into his jacket pocket, and started his motorcycle.

On the way to his office, the wind hammered his face, colder than it should’ve felt in June, even in the mountains. Yeah, he knew better than to go without a helmet, but Pops had defied the odds for forty-nine years. Why ruin the family legacy of tempting fate? He was his father’s son to the core.

After he parked his bike, the second he strode through the front doors of the Soren Security Bodyguards building, a text alert lit up his phone. When he glanced down at the screen, he clenched his
hand.

From Slone.

She called. Come to the office, stat.

*

Adam flew past the receptionist desk, heading straight for the stairs.

Since he’d signed on as a Cross-Fit athlete in Denver, he agreed elevators were for wusses who didn’t bother to exercise their God-given muscles. He exercised for an hour in his apartment, before he set foot into the Cross-Fit garage, and any extra strain offered an added bonus.

On the sixth floor—where he hadn’t
yet accepted he belonged—he paused. Pausing wasn’t a normal thing for him. He hit every goal hard and fast. No holds barred. He’d become a person his bodyguards accepted as their Czar.  He could’ve laughed in their faces. If they only knew where he came from…

Without knocking he burst into the office of Slone Rowan, his second in command. “I’m here. What the fuck is happening?”

Slone pointed to the open door, down the hall. “Don’t take it out on me. Talk to Devon.”

Adam took a step back. “Devon? Are you sure?”

“Yep.
She and I already had a pow-wow over this, and she has more answers than me. Go talk to her.”

That woman put the fear of God in him. He respected the hell out of Devon for it. If she told him the entire company’s success depended on him traveling to Ireland and kissing the Blarney stone, he’d kneel and accept his duty. No matter how many people had kissed or pissed on that stone.

Devon was a goddess out of every geek’s fantasy. Dark hair, pale skin, elfin features, smart as any nerd dared to dream. If she dressed up as a sexy wood elf, and bothered to support Halloween in her office, half her staff would call off the day to accommodate their geek-fantasies over her. Trey took it all in awesome stride like a champ.

Kudos to Trey. Adam could never have a woman—let alone his wife—desired so completely by men who worked for her. Would drive him out of his mind.

“Devon,” he pleaded in her office, almost on his knees. “Tell me Marissa is a random girl from the sticks of Iowa. Graduated from Iowa State.
No weird secrets.
No crazy past. You can trace that shit, right?”

Turning her huge, gorgeous dark eyes on him, Devon placed a hand on his inked forearm. Only from her did he accept complete disappointment. “Slone sent you, didn’t he?”

His heart dropped into his stomach. “That’s not an answer. Sounds like you found something bad.”

“Not bad, but not good.” She reached out and tucked
his hair back behind his ear, offering solace no one else could. She asked, “Do you want me to play our
soundtrack?”

Back when they’d first started working together, and she’d signed on as Chief Information Officer for Soren Security Bodyguards, the two of them had created a soundtrack for hardened souls like them. Except she’d broken their bond by falling in love with his cousin. The soundtrack started with Whitesnake’s
“Here I Go Again on My Own.” The rest the two of them knew by heart. “Don’t,” he said. “It doesn’t mean what it used to, and you know it.”

Bowing her head, she nodded. Though she’d even arranged her iPod to contain Rush song titles, in alphabetical order, based on album release date. “Okay. Just thought I’d offer, before I tell you what you don’t want to hear.”

He braced himself.
“Go on.”

“The reality is
the girl you know doesn’t actually exist.”

Ice coated his veins. “What do you mean, she doesn’t exist?”

Devon shrugged. “I found her transcripts from Iowa State. She didn’t lie about that. But the social security number attached to Marissa Denning only goes back ten years. There’s one main reason I can think of why a person finds herself a new identity.”

“And that is?”

“The government gave it to her.”

He spread his arms. “So?”

“So…honey, your girl either knows people in really high places and decided to reinvent herself. Or she’s in witness protection. And even I can’t hack those databases to find out for certain.”

The information hit him like a physical blow to the chest. He staggered back. “Are you sure?”

“No, I told you, I can’t be sure. But she might have more riding on this request for a bodyguard than you’re ready to handle.”

“I can handle it,” he said through clenched teeth. “I just never expected that reason for why she’d need protection.”

Devon pulled her ruby-red lips to the side in thought. “Has she ever revealed something personal about her past to you?”

After a moment’s pause, he latched onto one piece of information Marissa had told him in passing. “The day we met,” Adam recalled, “she said she’d tell me something about herself no one else knew.” Damn, why hadn’t he questioned this sooner? “She talked about where she grew up. The flat plains of city lights in the distance below, but purple mountains above where sunsets fell. Sure as hell doesn’t sound like anyplace in Iowa to me,” he muttered, irritated with himself for not seeing the inconsistency before today.

“Maybe not, but it
does
sound like Phoenix, or one of its suburbs,” Devon said with an excited glimmer in her eyes. “I would know. I almost took a job there. She wasn’t talking about Iowa. She revealed something special and secret to you.”

The rush of happiness about her confession paled in comparison to the thought of her returning to danger. “What the hell do I do now?” He didn’t require a response. “I’m going with her, Devon. She’s not facing down some old enemy without me there.”

“You sure?” Slone’s voice of reason, filled with caution, came from Devon’s open office door. Adam turned to face the coworker responsible for the dare in the first place. “We can still send a guy—”

“Screw that.” Adam’s blood heated with determination. “No one will protect her better than me.”

In two sentences, it was decided. Slone had told him via text he had a guy he knew in Phoenix, for backup, just in case. That’s all Adam needed to come to Marissa’s rescue.

*

Marissa paced in the dark gray light of pre-dawn, awaiting her taxi to the airport.
Nerves jangled inside her. She still couldn’t believe she was about to go home, a place she’d vowed never step foot in for the rest of her life.
Death changes everything,
she thought, bitter sorrow clinging to her chest. If Marshal Sharp himself showed up, he couldn’t stop her from going through with her plan to claim the last vestiges of her family history.

When two headlights beamed through her living room window, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase, took a deep breath, and headed onto her front porch, locking her door behind her. Soren Security Bodyguards had promised that her hired muscle would meet her at the airport and pay his own way.

As she opened the heavy porch door to the screen, she checked her pocket for cash, wanting to tip the cabbie. Suddenly two broad shoulders came into view, blocking the headlights in her driveway, and walked up her steps like he owned them.

“Hey, gorgeous.”
He set his hand on her exterior doorframe. “Not the ride you expected, huh?”

Stunned, she gaped at the man before her. “Adam, what are you doing here?”

“You called for a bodyguard.” He grinned. “Here I am.”

Was this a joke? She clenched the handle of her suitcase, unable to speak. She just shook her head.

“Yep. I’m driving you to Arizona. My GPS says it’s a twelve-hour haul. We’d better get started if we want to get there while it’s still daylight.”

“No.
No.
Adam, I asked for a bodyguard. I don’t want you.”

He cocked his head. “Now I’m hurt.” He touched one palm to the center of his chest, affecting a wounded expression. “You think I can run an entire fleet of bodyguards, but I can’t hack the job myself?”

“You misunderstand. I meant—”

“Good.” He strutted inside. “Do I smell coffee?”

“Yes, but—”

“Perfect, I could use some fresh brew.” He waited by her locked front door expectantly. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

She let out an exasperated breath. “No, I’m heading to the airport.”

“Not anymore.”

“Oh, my God.” Caving to his insistence, she unlocked the door and he strolled toward her kitchen. “You can’t be serious. I have a plane to catch.” She stamped her foot. “The ticket is nonrefundable.”

“So am I, sugar. Hey look, the pot’s still warm.” He reached into her cupboard, brought down a mug and filled it. “You really should empty this out before you leave on an extended trip. Might leave rings on the pot.”

“You get rid of the rings by swirling ice and water and lemon juice along the inside.” She shook her head. Why was she standing here explaining this to him? Like this was a perfectly normal occurrence? “You need to leave. My cab will be here any minute.”

“Oh.” He poked his head around the kitchen entryway and spotted the cab’s lights at the apron of her drive at the same time she did. “Then I’d better tell him you have another ride.”

“No.” She grasped his tattooed arm, but he slid free of her hold. “Adam, don’t you dare send him away.”

“Don’t worry.” He winked. “I’ve got it covered.”

Coffee mug in hand, he traipsed across her sidewalk, down the drive, and casually walked up to the cabbie. Money exchanged hands before she could make the wheels of her suitcase work properly, finally dragging the heavy luggage toward the cab now pulling away. “How dare you?” she demanded.

“I made it worth his trouble.”

“Adam, that’s not the point!”

“Here, give me that.” He took the suitcase from her hands and hefted it into the back seat of his truck like it weighed two pounds instead of twenty.

She stared at him like he’d gone insane. “No, no and no. I’m not taking you as my bodyguard. I’m not driving with you. And I don’t need your
help.
” She spat the word, making it clear he was being anything but helpful.

“It’s okay. I’ve already made the arrangements.”

Her nostrils flared. Trying to appeal to his work ethic, she insisted, “Won’t your department be lost without its leader?”

“You flatter me.” He snorted. “But I haven’t taken a day off in a year and a half. I’m due.” He shrugged. “Nice thing about being the boss. I can set my own rules.”