Broken: (McIntyre Security Bodyguard Series - Book 3) Page 2

  Beth faces forward in her seat and sits quietly, her gaze locked on the car in front of us. She doesn’t look at me for the rest of the short trip. I can see the wheels turning in her head as she mulls it over. I’m sure if anyone can understand how I feel, Beth does. She’s had to deal with her own painful history, and with betrayal. With Shane’s help, she’s come a long way.

  I pull into the reserved drop-off space in front of Clancy’s and put my Jeep in park. Beth sits there for a moment, saying nothing. She’s gazing out her side passenger window at the bookstore’s front entrance, but I don’t think she’s actually seeing anything. When she turns back to me, her eyes are glittering with unshed tears.

  “I didn’t actually see the video,” she says in a subdued voice. “I heard about it, but I didn’t watch it myself. I just couldn’t.”

  I nod, unable to speak over the damn knot in my throat. I’m glad she didn’t see the video. I don’t want that image of me in her head.

  Sam Harrison strolls out of the bookstore and does a quick scan of the sidewalk and the multitude of pedestrians. He’s ex-military, but you wouldn’t know it looking at him. He’s tall and lean, and he looks like a punk dressed in black cargo pants, a gray graphic T, and black shitkickers. His red hair is pulled up into a man-bun. With the black plugs in his ear lobes and black ink decorating his sinewy arms, he looks more like a street-wise thug than a professional bodyguard. I guess that’s part of his charm.

  Sam’s gaze lights on Beth and he gives her a quick smile. Part of my job these days is to drop Beth off at work and pick her up at the end of the day. Sam is her official daytime bodyguard while she’s in the bookstore. Even though she and Sam really hit it off well, she doesn’t like all the extra security fuss now that Howard Kline is no longer a threat to her. Kline’s dead, thanks to Shane. But as the fiancé of a very wealthy man, Beth still needs protection. Shane’s never going to ease up on that. He’s got more than a few skeletons in his closet, and he’d never risk any of them showing up to cause Beth harm.

  Beth doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to vacate the vehicle, so Sam approaches the front passenger door and peers inside, rapping lightly on Beth’s window with one knuckle. “Everything okay, Beth?”

  Beth laughs bashfully as she wipes away her tears with the back of her hand, then smiles up at Sam and nods. “Yes, fine. Just a sec.” Then she leans across the console and hugs me. “Are you okay?”

  I hug her back, squeezing my own misty eyes. “I’m fine. Go manage your bookstore. I’ll see you at five-thirty.”

  Reluctantly, Beth releases me and unlocks her door. Sam opens it and helps her step down from the Jeep. At the last moment, she turns back to me. “Call me if you need me.”

  Sam closes the door, and I nod to Beth as I put the Jeep in gear and pull away from the curb.

  I can’t stand it when others look at me with pity.

  * * *

  After dropping Beth off at Clancy’s, I leave downtown and head to the company’s private shooting range for my weekly mandatory practice and evaluation. Once there, I unwind by shooting two full boxes of ammo – fifty rounds a box – shredding a veritable army of paper targets suspended from a wire on a pulley mechanism. Each time I pull the trigger, I picture Logan’s face. I hope he rots in hell one day. But unfortunately, he’s still breathing, still walking the streets of Chicago a free man. The last I heard, he’s working as an intern at his daddy’s prestigious downtown law firm. Figures. One day the asshole will be an attorney. He’ll probably be a defense attorney, since he has so much experience at evading prosecution.

  Seeing Logan the other night really set me off, bringing it all crashing back. It was all I could do to refrain from pulling out my Beretta and plugging him on the spot, right there in the bar. But if I got myself arrested for cold-blooded murder, my family would kill me. If only I could run into Logan in a dark alley in the middle of the night. I’d beat the shit out of him, record the entire thing, and then blast it across the Internet for the whole fucking world to see.

  Just thinking about that asshat makes me burn. Some days it feels like I have acid running through my veins instead of blood, eating away at me day after day.

  I raise my 9 mm and hold it with both hands, my grip steady despite the fact that my heart is pounding triple-time in my chest. When the paper targets shaped like human beings drop into place, I tear through the things, firing shot after shot into the center of their heads, shredding their brains. When I lower my weapon, there’s not much left of the targets.

  I feel a tap on my shoulder and glance back to see Cooper standing behind me. I pull off my protective ear covering. “Hey, Coop.”

  He leans against the partition separating my stall from the next, his arms crossed over his chest in classic Cooper style. “I’m pretty sure you got him with the first couple of bullets, Lia. A whole clip seems wasteful.”

  Cooper’s dressed in jeans and a faded Marine Corps. T-shirt that hugs his muscled torso. For an old guy, he’s still pretty hot, with his short gray hair, a short salt-and-pepper beard, and steely blue eyes. He’s tall and solid, muscular. Even though he’s been out of the military for nearly a decade, he’s still got that air of discipline about him. He was a shooting instructor in the Marine Corps, and he’s still a damn fine marksman. Tough as nails. I bet he’d be bossy as hell in bed, cause he’s sure bossy out of it.

  I shake my head. “It’s just ammo, Cooper. I can afford it.”

  He frowns at me. “Cut the bravado, kid. I saw him Friday night, at Rowdy’s. I saw Wintermeyer. If Jake hadn’t kicked him out, I sure as hell would have.”

  I shrug, remembering how my brother brow beat Logan out of the bar. My brothers may drive me crazy, but they’ve always got my back.

  My jaw tightens to the point my teeth hurt. Abruptly I turn away and load a fresh clip into my handgun and face the shooting range. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I also saw your reaction.”

  “Yeah, well, we all have our burdens to carry, right? Mine’s that asshole. I’ll deal with it.” A fresh target comes my way. I don my ear protection and then unload an entire clip in its head, hitting dead center and pulverizing it.

  “I wish it was that easy, Lia,” Cooper says before walking away.

  Chapter 3

  After completing my weekly shoot-em-up session, I head back downtown to the McIntyre Security building, which is located on N. Michigan Avenue, not far from the shopping district. When I shut off the engine, I sit there in the underground parking garage for a while with my hands jammed between my thighs in an attempt to still the shaking. My hands have been shaking on and off since Friday. Seeing Logan does that to me. I want to get wasted. I want to drown myself in liquor until I can’t feel anything. But I’m afraid to drink any more. I’m afraid if I actually succeed in dulling the pain with liquor, I won’t be able to stop.

  I need an outlet to expend all this crazy negative energy, so I head up to the third floor where I know I’ll get to do some sparring today. Beating the crap out of someone – or maybe getting the crap beat out of me – is just what I need to shut down the video looping in my head.

  My twin, Liam, runs the company’s martial arts studio. I find him in the ring with two recent hires, Mateo and Phillip. Liam’s assessing their current level of hand-to-hand combat skills. Our bodyguards all train in Krav Maga – simply because it’s fast and expedient. When we’re on the job, we don’t mess around. We drop our opponents to the ground fast, and they stay there. I use a mixture of Krav Maga and Aikido. Krav Maga is fast, brutal, and effective. Aikido gives me an advantage over my opponents, who are usually way bigger than I am. With Aikido, I can use their size against them.

  It doesn’t hurt that my opponents always underestimate me. That’s their downfall. Just because I’m a cute, petite blonde, they make assumptions about me and they underestimate me, which works in my favor. I can usually take down a man twice my size in less than two minutes. And they never see it
coming.

  I’m here today because Shane asked me to participate in a demonstration for the new guys. Actually, I’m a ringer. Because I’m female, and because I’m small, they’ll assume I’m a pushover. I’m here to teach them otherwise. It’s a fun lesson for everyone.

  I sit on the sidelines for a few minutes, watching Liam and Mateo square off. Mateo’s good. He’s strong and muscular, and stubborn as an ox. With his beautiful mocha skin, short twisted braids, and gorgeous smile, he’s certainly easy on the eyes. And I could listen to that Jamaican accent all day long. Yeah, mon.

  The other guy, Phillip, looks like your typical all-American white boy, a former high school quarterback with broad shoulders, a lean waist, and thighs the size of tree trunks. Asshole. He reminds me of Logan. He’s even got the same shade of nut brown hair and brown eyes. I know I’m being irrational, but I don’t like him.

  Liam wraps up with Mateo, then calls me forward to officially meet the two new guys. I’ve already reviewed their resumes. Mateo’s older, in his early thirties, and he has experience in both military and private sectors. Phillip’s fresh out of college, and yeah, he’s actually a former high school football player, just like Logan. Naturally I now have a deep-seated hatred of football players. I’m surprised Shane asked me to do this – he should know better.

  Liam meets me halfway, scanning me with his too-perceptive gaze. His brown eyes narrow. “How’s it going?”

  I shrug. “Fine.”

  He doesn’t look convinced. “Are you good?”

  “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Damn it, my brothers are worse than a bunch of gossiping sissies.

  I’m dressed in my typical workout clothes – black boy shorts and a black sports bra. “Let’s do this,” I tell him. “I haven’t got all day.”

  “All right. Let me introduce you to the guys.”

  As I step up beside the ring, Liam introduces me to Mateo and Phillip. After we all make nice and shake hands, I glance behind me and happen to catch a glimpse of Shane and his newest client watching through the observation window. Great, that’s all I need. Jonah Locke – God’s gift to women – watching me about to get sweaty in the ring.

  Shane’s looking very GQ in his suit and tie. In contrast, Jonah’s dressed down in a pair of seriously ripped jeans and a faded gray T-shirt. I have to admit, I can understand why this guy has fan-girls drooling all over him. He’s definitely fuck-worthy material, with his scruffy good looks, a trim beard and gorgeous, soulful eyes the color of fine whisky. His dark brown hair, which hangs past his shoulders, is currently pulled back into a ponytail. Just looking at him makes my girl parts tingle. Man, what I wouldn’t give to tap that... just once. But I have a rule against sleeping with clients, so he’s off limits. Too bad.

  When I met first Jonah in Shane’s office, he surprised me. You’d think a guy with rabid fan-girls dogging his every step would have an ego as big as his head. What guy wouldn’t? But he was actually kind of quiet, pretty low key for a big heart throb. Even now, he’s watching us through the viewing pane with a quiet, unassuming expression. When his gaze settles on me, a shiver courses through me and I have to turn away.

  My faith in men may be shot to hell, but my body’s not dead. I still have needs, and sometimes my vibrator alone just won’t cut it. Sometimes I need something more. I get my needs met, but on my own terms. Wham bam, thanks pal. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Buh-bye!

  I’ll never let myself be used again.

  Never.

  * * *

  Forcing myself to ignore the audience out in the hallway – which frankly is not easy to do – I climb into the ring with Mateo. Mateo’s trained in Karate – he’s a 4th degree black belt, which I’ll admit is pretty impressive. He’s about six feet tall, with a slender build. He has a runner’s body, long and lean, and I’ll bet he’s fast. His hips are narrow and his shoulders are broad, and that means he’s top heavy. Good. This guy’s going down hard. I almost feel sorry for him.

  “Don’t take this personally, okay?” I tell him, when we’re facing off in the ring.

  He gives me a wide, bright smile. “Doan worry, pretty lay-dee. I’ll take it easy on you.”

  I do love the accent. It almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do to him.

  Liam gives the signal, and we start by testing the waters. We dance around each other a little bit. I like to lure them into a false sense of security before I drop them to the floor. My objective is to teach them the consequences of underestimating their opponent. They take one look at me and think I’m a walk in the park. I’m here to teach them otherwise.

  Mateo’s sole objective is to pin me to the mat. As if!

  I advance and retreat a little, setting up a pattern and rhythm that he thinks he can exploit. When he makes his move, lunging to lock onto me, I send him sailing right over my shoulder. He hits the mat with a loud smack, and I hear his breath wheezing in his chest. I pin him to the mat with a knee to his lower back and a hand gripping the back of his neck.

  Score one for the little blond! Lesson learned, the hard way.

  Mateo sits up and shakes his head, looking honestly perplexed. “How the hell did she do that, mon?” he asks Liam.

  Liam shrugs his shoulders and chuckles as he pulls Mateo to his feet. “You okay?”

  Mateo looks at me and chuckles, his pained expression transforming into a good-natured grin. He steps toward, high-fiving me. “Damn, girl! You kicked my ass!”

  His smile is contagious, and I can’t help returning it.

  Phillip – the ass – is laughing his head off at Mateo’s expense, and that just makes me resent the big pretty boy athlete even more.

  “Lemme show you how it’s done, mon,” Phillip says as he climbs into the ring, giving me a smarmy grin as he shoulders Mateo aside.

  “Your Jamaican accent sucks,” I say.

  Phillip winks at me, a stupid grin on his face.

  I shake my head. “Don’t do that. Don’t ever wink at me.”

  Liam gives us the signal to go, and we move around the ring, sizing each other up. This guy is big, well over six feet, with a broad upper torso. He’s big all over and at least twice my weight.

  I shoot a quick glance at the viewing window and see that Shane and Jonah are still there, watching. Shane is talking to Jonah, but Jonah’s eyes are on me, and I feel a surge of heat. Fine. I’ll give him something to see.

  Phillip comes at me hard. He’s trained in Ju Jitsu, which is something my brothers use a lot, along with Krav Maga and a little kickboxing. Sure, I can easily anticipate his moves, but it’s his big size that’s going to be his undoing.

  “Come on, sugar,” he says, taunting me. “Show me your stuff.”

  That’s the worst possible thing he could have said to me. Logan called me sugar. It’s not cute. In fact, it pisses me off. “Get over yourself, prick. No one’s impressed.”

  “Ah, come on, sugar! Show me you’re more than just a pretty face.” His jaw tightens, and I know I’ve gotten under his skin.

  Phillip’s going to make mistakes now. Sure enough, he comes at me hard and fast, barreling toward me like a locomotive. As he reaches for me, I grab his arm and highjack his momentum to send him right over me, and he hits the mat hard.

  Now it’s Mateo’s turn to laugh.

  Phillip jumps to this feet, his face beet red and his chest heaving. “You little bitch,” he mouths under his breath. He comes at me again, using brute force this time. Pissed, and ready to end this, I resort to a brutal Krav Maga move that I know will get me in a lot of trouble. But I’m past caring. As he rushes me, I shift out of his trajectory, then catch him with a two-handed blow to his nasal septum, grabbing his head and throwing him face down on the mat. I follow him down with a knee to his lower back and pin him to the floor like a bug. When he doesn’t fight back, I realize he’s out cold.

  Well, shit. I know I’m going to get my ass chewed out over this, but it was worth it. He pissed me off, d
amn it.

  I jump off him and step back, my hands raised in capitulation. But Phillip remains face down on the mat. Yeah, he’s out for the count.

  But at least he’s still breathing. It’s not like I killed him.

  When I hear the door to the studio crash open, I flinch. I know what’s coming. I turn to face Shane, who’s standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. His jaws are clenched tightly, and he looks royally pissed. “Lia, in my office! Now!”

  Yeah, I’m in trouble. But what’s more disconcerting isn’t the scowl on my brother’s face; it’s the look of sheer amusement on Jonah Locke’s face. Jonah’s still watching me through the window, and he’s fighting a grin. When our gazes meet, the corners of his lips curve up in an infuriating smile.

  Asshole.

  Chapter 4

  I don’t bother with a shower or change out of my workout clothes. Shane’s pissed, so I decide it’s better to head straight to the lion’s den and get this tongue lashing over with so I can get on with my day.

  When I step outside the martial arts studio, I’m relieved to see the hallway is empty. Both Shane and Jonah are gone. Good. I’ll have to face Shane soon enough – I don’t need to see or speak to Mr. Rockstar. I wonder what he’s doing here in the building. Shouldn’t he be out signing autographs or writing songs?

  I exit the elevator on Shane’s floor and walk into the executive suite, waving at Shane’s executive assistant as I stroll past her desk. Diane Hughes is a tiny little woman with short white hair and bright blue eyes. She reminds me of a fairy godmother in a business suit. All that’s missing is the sparkly wand.

  “Hi, Lia, honey,” she says, giving me a little wave as I walk past her desk. “He’s expecting you.”