The Billionaire's Prize: Taken & Tempted: (Book 3 Billionaire Bodyguard Series) (5 page)

That was an effective analogy. “I respect the profession. I just wish some in the field respected other people’s right to privacy.”

He huffed a laugh without humor. “Won’t happen in our lifetime. It seems to get worse, more sensational, every day. Real news isn’t interesting, slander sells.”

“I take it you were on the receiving end of a bad press experience?”

He stared out the window. “It was a lynch mob.”

“Did something happen while you were overseas?”

“Yep.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Let me guess. It’s classified.”

“Something like
that.” He sighed and faced the front of the limo, his stern profile illuminated by passing streetlamps. “I stumbled into this bodyguard gig through an ex-military friend, Logan Stone. He owned the business before the Sorens bought him out. Best decision I ever made. I can use my training, keep people safe, and stay anonymous.”

The wheels in her mind raced full steam ahead. The detective in her leaped at the chance to learn more about her stoic, quiet defender. To discover what made him tick, why he wanted anonymity, and what had happened to scar him so deeply. Also, she’d like to know what made him suddenly find his voice and open up to her.

“I saw your reaction,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“The fear in your eyes. Not about Ramos but the press bulldozing us. Wanted you to know you’re not alone.”

His eerie powers of perception stunned her. “I guess with your background and former career, you’re good at reading people.”

“In Black Ops missions it can be the difference between seeing the next sunrise and seeing the lid of a casket.”

Intriguing.
“Did you retire from the military?”

“Most don’t retire from Special Forces.” He glanced at her and she saw a whisper of regret in his gray eyes. “You burn out. Then you get a medal, change ranks, and work in a stuffy government office or go into the private sector.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen unimaginable atrocities.” Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “I’ve only seen one dead body in person, and I still have nightmares.” The memory
at sixteen years old of her mother’s bruised and slashed form on the coroner’s table burned vividly. Daddy had been working at the casino. Mom’s new husband had been conveniently “out of town” on business or something. Lindsey had been too young. So Kylie had identified the body.

“You’re never the same. But it does get easier,” Slone said.

No, it didn’t, but she appreciated his attempt to reach out to her on some level. “I look forward to that day.”

During the rest of the drive to Cade’s home they rode in silence. Within minutes the limo muscled through gridlock traffic and pulled into the portico of a massive high rise. She looked up and couldn’t even see the top of the building. It seemed to reach into the clouds.

When they entered Slone flashed his ID to the guard at the door, who radioed the front desk to verify
that he and Kylie had legitimate cause to be there. Once confirmed, they walked through a second set of doors where a concierge greeted them, dressed in a full suit and tie. He inspected Slone’s license then Kylie’s, typing their information into a computer.

Awestruck, Kylie peered at the surroundings. Luxury oozed from every corner, understated enough to reek of wealth but without gaudy flourishes. Glass, silver, well-placed mirrors, crown molding and contemporary lines gave the atrium a handsome polish.
Three giant chandeliers reflected their glitter onto spotless black marble floors.

“Miss?”

Slone nudged her with his elbow.

“Yes? Oh, thanks.” She took the key card, and an actual key, that the concierge handed her.

“The private transport to the penthouse level is to the left of the regular elevators,” the concierge said with a pleasant smile.

Gripping the key, she felt the jagged metal warm in her palm. She followed Slone to a fifth elevator tucked in a room behind the main four.

“Insert the key and turn it to the left, Kylie,” Slone said.

She pushed it into the slot beside the elevator panel. Then she hit the circular button.

How could she feel so numb? So easily guided by a near stranger? She trusted Slone, but with the news about Ramos, Dominique, and the camera crew invading her personal space she felt disoriented, confused, uncertain about everything.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she said when the elevator doors opened. She wanted to go home, curl up in her bed, and escape everything until the nightmare ended. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.

“It’s okay, Kylie. You’re safe. I promise.” Slone’s voice held calm encouragement. “I’ve got your back.”

With wooden steps, she forced herself to enter the elevator. She scraped her nails nervously along the fabric handle of her laptop case. The doors opened into a large u-shaped hallway with four doors, one at each corner.

Slone held the elevator to keep it from closing. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Just walk out of the elevator, one foot in front of the other. Good. You’re doing great.”

An old sense of trauma and bone-deep fatigue engulfed her. Why did she feel like a child? Like someone had to tell her what to do, how to move forward? She’d always been the strong one. “I’m fine,” she insisted.

Still, Slone cupped her shoulder and guided her to Penthouse B. He slid the keycard in and withdrew it quickly. A green light blinked and the door unlocked. Slone pressed on the handle and they walked inside.

Slate stone tiled the entryway. The lights came on automatically, a soft glow that brightened steadily to reveal an expanse of hardwood floors the length and width of six bowling lanes. She watched as recessed spotlights flickered on one by one, illuminating Cade’s home, highlighting works of contemporary art, the immaculate space coming into view as gradually as a sunrise.

“Do lights really come on like that?” she asked.

“I guess when you’re worth a billion dollars, lights can do whatever you want them to,” Slone replied.

“You’ve never been in Cade’s home?”

“Not until today.”

The automatic lights
illuminated
Cade’s spacious living room. An expensive art gallery came to mind. All white walls, hardwood floors, the scents of earthy cologne and wealth permeating the space. Everything looked immaculate, not a single fingerprint on the glass top coffee table, its base made from sun-bleached driftwood with unique twists and turns in the wood’s natural formation. Black leather couches framed a lush area rug that looked like soft white sand she longed to sink her toes into.

The ripple of
turquoise water reflecting through a frosted glass door soothed her tension, reminding her of a dreamy escape. Maybe he had a pool?

Beneath an enormous flat screen television on the living room wall, a fireplace roared to life. An embedded fireplace that turned on when you walked through the door?

Awestruck, she shook her head. “I didn’t even know these things existed.”

“Considering this level of luxury, you know Cade can afford to keep you protected, no matter the cost.”

Hope tugged inside her. She couldn’t believe she stood in the security of a high-rise penthouse in the Rocky Mountains.
The view must be incredible from here.

Suddenly,
Slone paused. His arm shot out in front of her. “Did you hear that?”

Yes… An odd scraping sound echoed down the hallway.
A ripple of tension traveled through his extended arm.

A flash of anxiety prickled over her skin followed by a wash of goose bumps. “But there’s no way anyone knows I’m—”

“Hush,” he hissed.

Without a sound he unlatched a small cylinder from his belt loop, and pressed it into her palm. “Just in case.”

Holding it up to the light, she identified a small container of mace. One less item on her to-buy list.

On silent footsteps Slone edged around the corner, his hand poised over the handle of a gun she hadn’t noticed beneath his leather jacket. The man wasn’t messing around.

Instead of staying put as his gesture had indicated, she trailed behind him. A swath of light spilled into the hallway from the second door on the left. The one Cade described as the guestroom.
My room.
She gulped.

Creeping up to the lit room, Slone slid the gun from his holster. Without warning he slammed the door open.

“Oh!” A shriek came from inside. “Good God, Slone. You startled me.” The female voice sounded upbeat, welcoming, right at home.

Wait…
was
this her home? Could she be Cade’s girlfriend?
Or more?
Possibly his fiancée?

As Kylie stepped into the room behind Slone, another prickly flash swept over her. It was absolutely one hundred percent
not
jealousy. Or disappointment.
She was positive.

Finding a beautiful woman in Cade’s penthouse rifling through the guestroom closet provided one more unexpected event in a day filled with shocking surprises. Kylie’s chest clenched with an achy flutter. She wasn’t sure how many more surprises she could stand.

Clearly, Slone knew the woman and accepted that she’d be in Cade’s penthouse. He lowered his gun wearing a relieved expression. “Damn, Cade could’ve told me you’d be here.”

“Kylie?” The petite blonde woman approached her. “We’re very glad you’re here.”

This girl was so earnest and lovely. Instantly, Kylie felt a crushing sense of guilt for being even the slightest bit attracted to Cade. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Letting you?” She laughed with genuine sweetness. “Cade is happy you’re here. He wants you to be safe under his roof.”

At the woman’s open-armed acceptance, Kylie’s guilt compounded. “I don’t want to make a rift between you. I hope you know that’s not my intention.”

The woman blinked. Her light blue eyes warmed with understanding. “Oh, my gosh. No, Kylie.” She smiled. “I’m Mindy, Cade’s PR manager.
Now his life manager, apparently.” She rolled her eyes.
“He sent me out to buy your new wardrobe.
Lucky you.” She winked. “I hope you’ll be happy with my choices.”

“Choices?”

“I had so much fun.” Mindy’s optimistic cheer was contagious, calming Kylie’s inner turmoil now that she knew Mindy wasn’t involved with the man who’d offered her safety and solace. “Cade sent me on a mission. Dresses.
Suits.
Pants.
Blazers.
Shoes.
Intimate apparel.
A bathing suit.
Makeup. Plus soaps and lotions for the bathroom.” Mindy appeared so pleased that Kylie took her hands when she offered them in a gesture of excitement. “I hope you like everything.”

“Thank you. So much.” Kylie wanted to cry,
overwhelmed by this complete stranger’s efforts to help her adjust.
If adjustment was possible when she was on the run from a powerful drug lord.

“My pleasure.” Mindy embraced her. “If you need more, you let me know. I have Cade’s credit card.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Your wish is my command.”

“I can’t…” Kylie swallowed and took a deep breath. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“No thanks required. I’m serious, if you need anything, let me know. Okay?”

Kylie nodded. “Okay.”

Mindy patted Slone on the shoulder and left Cade’s apartment. Mindy had been incredibly kind,
trying to make Kylie at home here. Staggered by Cade’s generosity, she stared at the packed closet and shook her head. Had he really sent someone to do all this?
For her?

“Do you want dinner?” Slone called out from the living room.

“How about pizza?”
Her favorite go-to comfort food.

She heard him dial the front desk for takeout. “What do you like on it?”

“Pepperoni. And double cheese, if you’re up for it.”

“Awesome.” The grin in his voice made her smile.

While waiting for pizza delivery, she decided to change out of her clothes into something warmer. She draped Cade’s coat across the end of the bed, lingering for a moment to breathe in the scent of his cologne. An exotic blend of mint and lavender, a slight citrus overlay of orange blossoms but with woodsy undertones. Masculine and memorable. She wanted to snuggle into that scent like a cashmere scarf wrapped around her on a cold day. The scent was also extremely arousing. Then again, it belonged to Cade, of course it would be arousing.

Forcing herself to walk away from his coat so she didn’t embarrass herself, she entered the walk-in closet and admired the impressive names on the garment bags. What she would give for sweatpants and a sweatshirt. But apparently luxury designers didn’t stoop to that level of informality. She found a plush cream-colored sweater and a pair of black velvet leggings.

The clothes fit nicely, and her body temperature had warmed significantly by the time she went to meet Slone in the living room. Pizza arrived minutes later. They pulled chrome barstools up to the white quartz countertop.