One to Protect (One to Hold Book 3)
| One to Protect (One to Hold Book 3) | |
| One to Hold [3] | |
| Tia Louise | |
| TLM Productions (2014) | |
| Tags: | One to Hold |
One scar.
One betrayal.
No escape.
When Sloan Reynolds beats criminal charges, Melissa Jones stops believing her wealthy, connected ex-husband will ever pay for what he did to her.
Derek Alexander can’t accept that—a tiny silver scar won't let him forget, and as a leader in the security business, he is determined to get the man who hurt his fiancée.
Then the body of a former call girl turns up dead. She’s the breakthrough Derek’s been waiting for, the link to Sloan’s sordid past he needs. But as usual, legal paths to justice have been covered up or erased.
Derek’s ready to do whatever it takes to protect his family when his partner Patrick Knight devises a plan that changes everything.
It’s a plan that involves coloring outside the lines and taking a walk on the dark side. It goes against everything on which Alexander-Knight, LLC, is based.
And it’s a plan Derek’s more than ready to follow.
Note: Standalone, M/F, HEA.
By Tia Louise
WARNING: Mature themes, strong language, and sexual content. Recommended for adult readers (18+) only!
One scar.
One betrayal.
No escape.
When Sloan Reynolds beats criminal charges, Melissa Jones stops believing her wealthy, connected ex-husband will ever pay for what he did to her.
Derek Alexander can’t accept that—a tiny silver scar won't let him forget, and as a leader in the security business, he is determined to get the man who hurt his fiancée.
Then the body of a former call girl turns up dead. She’s the breakthrough Derek’s been waiting for, the link to Sloan’s sordid past he needs. But as usual, legal paths to justice have been covered up or erased.
Derek’s ready to do whatever it takes to protect his family when his partner Patrick Knight devises a plan that changes everything.
It’s a plan that involves coloring outside the lines and taking a walk on the dark side. It goes against everything on which Alexander-Knight, LLC, is based.
And it’s a plan Derek’s more than ready to follow.
(Standalone, M/F, HEA)
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
One to Protect
Copyright © Tia Louise, 2014
Printed in the United States of America.
Cover design by Jasmine Green
Jasminegreen.net
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.
To the protectors and the lovers.
To Mr. TL.
Most of all to the readers who wanted more.
Table of Contents
Chapter 4: A Physical Reminder
Chapter 12: Toothless Monsters
Chapter 13: To Slaughter a Pig
Chapter 14: What Needs to be Done
Chapter 1: A Small Symbol
Melissa
A cold blast of air steals my breath as I dash through the concrete parking garage, and I remember why I chose my cozy beach cottage in Wilmington over life in the city—even over life in a town the size of Princeton.
The doorman guarding the entrance is another reason.
Hired staff knowing all my moves, my comings and goings, who I’m expecting… It’s a type of
déjà vu
that’s way too close to my old life in Sloan’s house, for comfort.
But Walter is nothing like Widlow or Hal, the housekeeper and driver who were basically paid spies in my ex-husband’s Baltimore mansion. Walt stands just inside the glass doors in his maroon uniform waiting, and I see the moment recognition crosses his face. Jumping to open the door quickly, he greets me with a warm smile.
“Miss Jones!” His gloved hand covers the handle of my overnight bag as his other arm sweeps away the grocery sack I’m carrying. “Mr. Alexander didn’t say you were coming. Let me help you.”
His gravelly voice and doting personality remind me of an elderly relative.
My voice is smooth and high in contrast. “Derek doesn’t
know
I’m coming. It’s a surprise.” I give his shoulder a squeeze, and a whiff of peppermint touches my nose. “I’ve asked you to call me Melissa.”
With a wink, he turns and leads me to the elevator, where he presses the button. I study his salt-and-pepper grays peeking out from under his cap, thinking how perfect he is at his job. “I won’t breathe a word about seeing you, then, and management would fire me on the spot if I called you by your first name.”
“Ridiculous.”
The doors open and he hesitates. “This is a pretty heavy load. Want me to call one of the boys to carry it up for you?”
“I carried it all the way to the front door by myself, no problem.”
My eyes are wide, and a chuckle scrapes from his throat. “He’s going to be so glad you’re here. You’re just what he needs.”
“I heard it’s been a tough week.” We’re holding up the elevator, but I’m curious if Nikki, Derek’s office manager, might have exaggerated the situation.
The building has less than twenty residents, most of whom work the same crazy hours as my fiancé, so I’m pretty certain we’re safe for a moment’s chat.
“I wouldn’t know, but I haven’t seen him smile since Sunday.”
“Thank God it’s Friday then?”
He grins and touches his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”
The doors close, and I lean back against the shiny metal walls, thinking about what I know. Late yesterday afternoon, I got a text from Nikki saying if there was any chance I could get away,
Mr. Alexander could use a friendly face.
And a hug. Preferably using your thighs.
I laugh and roll my eyes. Nikki and I have grown close since my
second
visit to the Alexander-Knight offices. On my first, I only had one thing on my mind, and it wasn’t making friends. So much has changed since that day in November.
Now I get regular text updates from her, and her solution to most of her boss’s problems is sleeping with me. Frequently. She usually complains he’s impossible by the end of our weeks apart, but this time has been different. This time her message sounded worried instead of playful.
The elevator opens at the top floor of the complex, and I walk the short hall to his door. It’s almost like living in a hotel, but inside, the condos are huge—only four to a level. Unlocking Derek’s, I take a quick survey of the very male space. Leather couch, dark wood furnishings, enormous flat-screen television—make that
gigantic
flat-screen television. I think he said it’s 110 inches?
The kitchen is granite and stainless and untouched. The entire condo is spotless. A service comes once a week to clean and do laundry, and his suits are picked up and delivered by the dry cleaner. I smile and shake my head. He probably never even sees the people who take care of him. It’s all done by invisible elves as far as he’s concerned. He just pays the bills. It’s not a home—at least not the kind of loving home I plan to give him once we’re finally together in the same city.
Setting the brown bag on the counter, I place one item in the refrigerator, the other in the freezer. I carefully selected both to remind him of a happy night, a night that started in a family restroom. A tingle fills my stomach at that white-hot memory.
Back to the present, I head straight to the master suite. My overnight case is on the dresser, and I quickly remove the few outfits I’ve brought for the weekend and place them in the top drawer reserved for my things. Then I pull out my toiletries bag and hit the bathroom.
It’s only six, and he’s not expecting me. No telling when he’ll be here, but I want to freshen up after the eight-hour drive. It never gets shorter. We have
got
to get in the same location soon.
The bathroom is smooth beige stone on both the floors and countertops. The shower is matching tile, and is large and recessed like a cave, so there’s no need for a door. I shove off my jeans and step in, switching on the dual showerheads while carefully avoiding the blast.
Back out, I lift my long, dark waves up and twist them into a knot then unbutton my white blouse and slide it off my shoulders. His little gold, floating heart sits right at the base of my throat. It wasn’t an expensive gift, but when I touch it, my body floods with warmth remembering how he gave it to me.
His heart…
Turning to the side in my matching red-lace bra and panties, my hands spread over my midsection. Still not showing, but my waist is definitely thicker as are my thighs. I’ve gone up a pant size, and I’m uncomfortable in everything I own besides loose dresses. This baby bump has got to pop out at some point so I can switch to maternity wear and stop looking like a marshmallow.
Underclothes off, I return to the shower-cave, moving under the spray with my head tilted back. It’s hot, but not unbearably so, and the massaging motion of the jets soothes all the stress of the long drive away. I wash my face, turn and scrub the scented gel I brought all over myself, taking it easy on my breasts, which are tender these days.
I stand and allow the lovely hot water to envelop me like a soothing blanket. It feels so good after being out in the frigid evening air. Several minutes pass, and I finally shut it off, step out, and catch the towel hanging on the hook.
Quickly rubbing it over my legs and up my stomach, I pause when I reach my face and clutch it to my nose. His fresh, woodsy scent is all over the soft terry, and I inhale deeply. My eyes close as a wave of desire sweeps from my head, past my sensitive nipples, to the growing heat between my thighs. We spent an amazing Valentine’s Day weekend together just five days ago, but I can’t wait to see him again. The weeks apart are so lonely, even with friends around.
His robe is hanging on the back of the door. It also smells like him, though he rarely wears it. I pull it around me, leaving the belt untied. It’s like an oversized dress on my small frame, and the scent combined with the silky fabric whispering across my private parts piques my longing for him even more.
Only one lamp lights the dim condo as I cross back to the kitchen for a bottle of water. The furniture is bare of any accessories or pictures—I’ve noted it before—but today something’s new. A single wooden frame has appeared on the mantle since my last visit. Picking it up, I recognize the shot of us sitting on the beach. He’s behind me, and my head is tilted to the side as he kisses the base of my neck. I love this picture. My best friend Elaine took it a few weeks ago, and I’d sent it to him. I hug the small symbol to my chest, thinking how his place is less the sterile fortress now. He has proof, a loving reminder of my place in his world.