Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Cowboy D-Force (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Brotherhood Protectors Book 4) (3 page)

He pulled her out of the water and up onto the deck without slamming her into his chest like he had earlier.

“Thanks,” he said, his tone brusque, his eyes sliding over her from head to toe. “You weren’t hurt?”

“No. But I’ll have to redo my hair and makeup before the camera crew comes to film her—my home.” Even that attempt at her boss’s waspishness fell flat of the desired annoying effect.

His gaze raked over her wet head and smeared face. “I think it looks fine. More natural.”

Without thinking, Angel raised her hand to her damp cheek.

This bodyguard Phillip had hired had come to the pool with the hint of disgust on his face.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t at liberty to be herself. She had to play the part of Lena Love in order to convince anyone who might be lurking in the bushes or on a nearby hillside, watching her. Lena needed the break from her real life and the stalker in order to sober up and get her life back on track. The least Angel could do was to put on a great show to hide the fact she was an imposter.

What she hadn’t counted on was her bodyguard blacking out in the pool, requiring her to rescue him. She could bet that wasn’t something Lena would have done. Lena would have gotten out of the pool cursing about the insubordinate fool getting her hair wet. She’d have stood on the side of the pool railing about her smeared makeup and saying if he drowned he’d be getting what he deserved for causing her to, Lord forbid, break a fingernail.

“Do you even swim?” she asked.

His brows descended. “Of course.”

“Then why were you unconscious?”

“It’s not important. Whatever happened won’t affect my ability to work.”

The man wasn’t going to give her anymore information than that.

“Fine.” She drew in a deep breath and waved her hand toward the house. “Your sleeping quarters are at the top of the stairs, first door on your right. You might as well change into dry clothes. Oh, and let the chef know you’re here and to set another plate at the table.”

He started toward the barn.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

Duke stopped and faced her. “To get my duffle bag with my dry clothes. I’ll be back in just a minute, at which time I’ll bring your drink and, in the process, speak with the chef. Will you require anything else?”

She frowned. “Not yet. I’ll let you know when I think of something else. And next time, don’t be so cocky.”

He nodded and left, following the path through the surrounding garden and down the hill to the barn.

The man was not what she’d consider handsome, but he was ruggedly appealing. If she was right, the marks on his chest had been caused by shrapnel. And by the slight limp she’d noted as he walked away, his right leg had issues. Probably caused by whatever had peppered his chest with scars.

Her bodyguard bore further scrutiny, not because his touch had ignited a special electrical charge inside her, but because he wasn’t very forthcoming with information about himself.

She knew one thing, though. His name was Duke, and it irritated him when she called him Luke. Her lips quirked on the corners. Maybe she was more like Lena than she cared to admit. She found she liked irritating big, hunky men who thought they knew everything there was to know about the women they protected.

Well, Duke Morrison, bodyguard, had another think coming. Lena Love was going to have some fun with the big, sexy bodyguard. Angel’s lips curved into a sassy smile. Suddenly, two weeks of ranch living on the Love Land Ranch, didn’t sound so boring after all.

D
uke hurried
to his truck to get the duffle bag he’d left there.

Brandt Lucas caught up with him in front of the barn and half jogged to keep up with Duke, a grin on his handsome face. “I take it you met Miss Love.”

“I did.”

“She push you in the pool, or did you decide to cool off?”

“I misjudged my footing.” And the woman’s mean streak. Yeah, he’d witnessed it the previous night, but hadn’t imagined she’d stoop to pushing him into the pool fully clothed.

What had him baffled was that she’d saved him from drowning when he’d blacked out. This was a side to Miss Love, incongruous with everything he’d witnessed and heard about the actress.

For a few moments, she’d been very real and undeniably attractive. Not in the movie star, glossy, superbly-put-together way. She’d almost been a girl-next-door, tough-but-caring woman his mother would have liked.

He liked that version of Lena almost enough to want to stay for the full two weeks. Too bad her mouth had kicked in again after she’d nearly redeemed herself by saving him.

“I don’t know why Miss Love needs to hire a bodyguard. There are plenty of staff members who live here fulltime to look out for her.”

“You all have your jobs. I have mine. Perhaps she likes having someone dedicated to securing her well-being.” Duke reached his truck, unlocked it and pulled out the duffle bag. When he turned, he almost bumped into Lucas.

“Are you sure that’s the only reason she hired you?” The man stood in front of Duke with his arms crossed over his chest, his chin raised, his eyes narrowed.

“What other reason would she have?”

The pimped up cowboy looked down his nose and raked his gaze over Duke. “She usually prefers her lovers to be…better dressed, for one.” He sniffed. “You’re not her usual type.”

Duke almost laughed in the man’s face, but Lucas was blocking his path and irritating him more by the second. “And you’re more her type?”

Lucas’s smirk was as irritating as his words. “I don’t like to kiss and tell, but yes.”

Heat burned inside Duke’s chest. He clenched his fist around the handles of the duffle bag to keep from throwing it in Lucas’s face. Duke’s mother would have washed the asshole’s mouth out with soap for talking badly about a girl or woman. Though Ms. Love hadn’t earned his respect, she was female, and he wouldn’t stand by while a prissy man who dressed like a cowboy impugned her character. “Get out of my way.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Miss Love will use you and discard you like every other male she’s brought to her ranch. And if you think pleasuring her will convince her to give you a part in one of her movies, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“I said, ‘Get. Out. Of. My. Way’.”

Lucas raised his smooth, manicured hands. “Fine. Have it your way. I’ll save my ‘I told you so’ for when she has you pack up and—”

Duke dropped his bag and plowed his fist into Brandt Lucas’s perfect nose.

The man screamed like a girl and fell flat on his ass, getting dirt all over his freshly pressed jeans. Blood spurted from his nose, staining his clean white shirt. “You animal. Why’d you go and do that?”

“I felt threatened,” Duke said, his tone flat and bored. “I had to defend myself from your aggression.” He fought to keep from laughing.

“Did you have to punch me in my nose?” he whined, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Oh, Lord, I need to see a doctor. No, I need a plastic surgeon. You could have broken it. Oh, my beautiful, perfect nose.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you to get out of my way.” Duke stepped over the man and marched up the slope to the main house, feeling just a little better for having punched someone. Though he felt a little guilty he’d hit someone who was clearly no match for him. It was like kicking a stupid dog. The dog couldn’t help he was born stupid. And kicking a dog was just wrong in every way.

But the man had talked trash about his client. For that reason alone, Lucas had deserved Duke’s response.

Back through the garden, Duke made his way toward the house, slightly disappointed he didn’t see Lena lying in the lounge chair where he’d originally found her. She was nowhere to be seen on the back patio.

Entering through the rear glass door, he stopped to stare at the three-story, cathedral ceiling made of rough-hewn cedar beams arching high over his head.

A bank of windows stretched from the floor all the way up to the impossibly high ceiling, giving a view of the Crazy Mountains most people could never afford in their lifetimes.

Plush leather furniture surrounded a massive stone fireplace, and a thick sheepskin rug lay in front of the hearth. Perfect for a midnight tryst of writhing, naked bodies making love into the early hours of morning.

He could imagine Lena’s beautiful body stretched out on the sheepskin, her back arched in the throes of a mind-blowing orgasm.

His groin tightened, and he adjusted his damp jeans. Now was not the time to get a hard-on. Especially for the client. If she lived up to her reputation, she’d have him deliver crackers and cheese to her bed and expect him to share the snack and more.

Before he’d gone for a swim, he’d have said an emphatic
Hell No
.

After she’d saved his ass from certain drowning, his opinion had altered. He saw an entirely different side to the mouthy Miss Love. No, he wasn’t naïve enough to think she was cured of her bitchiness in the space of five minutes, but she bore watching. Something wasn’t ringing true about the woman.

He headed for the stairs and climbed them one at a time, the injured knee telling him about every step by sending a stab of pain through his leg. The therapist had said he’d have to work the knee daily to get it anywhere near to what it used to be. He’d also said it would never be the same. Duke would have to adjust to a new normal.

Just like his job. He wasn’t one of the prestigious Delta Force team anymore. He’d have to adjust to the new normal lifestyle of a rent-a-bodyguard. There was no shame in making a living in an environment where people weren’t shooting at him.

Then why was he missing the sound of gunfire and the rush of adrenalin it gave him when he charged into battle?

Most of all, he missed his brothers. Fort Hood seemed a very long way from the Love Land Ranch.

He found the guest room at the top of the stairs, first door on the right, and entered, placing his duffle bag on the floor. The bed was a giant, king-sized four-poster with thick wooden cannon balls on each corner post. The mattress was covered in a white duvet and piles of feather pillows. A man could lose his women in a bed that size.

Duke unzipped his duffle and fished out a pair of black trousers and a gray polo shirt Hank had given him with the Brotherhood Protectors logo embroidered on the left breast. He figured the outfit would be dressy enough for a bodyguard, without going into the over-the-top stereotype of men dressed in black suits, wearing mirrored sunglasses. He’d ask Miss Love what kind of uniform she expected. Not that he’d necessarily agree to wear it, if it was too hot or too stiff. He needed the ability to run fast (well, as fast as his knee would take him) dive, roll, leap and fight his way out of any situation. Constrictive clothing wasn’t conducive to most of those activities.

A door at the side of his room led into an ensuite bathroom with a man-sized shower and a claw-foot tub. Again, he imagined Miss Love bathing naked in the tub, bubbles barely covering the tops of her breasts as she leaned her head back and smiled.

And again, his cock hardened and caused him distress in the still-damp denim.

Trying without much success to put Miss Love’s gorgeous body out of his thoughts, he peeled off the wet clothes and slung them over the side of the tub. Then he stepped beneath the showerhead and turned on the cold water, full blast. If he had any hope of chilling his desire, the water would have to be icy cold. His client had a body that could stop a Mack truck. Slim in all the right places, taut enough to bounce a quarter off her belly and smooth, silky skin stretched over firm muscles.

No matter how long he stood under the shower, his desire refused to abate, and her royal pain in the ass wouldn’t wait forever for him to get over his hard-on. She’d want that drink he should have gotten her before they’d both had gone for a swim.

He shut off the water, dried his body and dropped his towel. A knock on the door of the bedroom startled him into grabbing the towel from the floor and wrapping it around his waist.

“Yeah,” he said, loud enough whoever was on the other side would hear.

“Phillip and the camera crew are here.” Lena said. “Look alive. I need you downstairs ASAP.”

The woman sounded more like a drill sergeant than an actress. The firm tone of command lingered in the air and spurred Duke to hurry into his clothes, pull on a dry pair of shoes and head downstairs.

Lena stood by the front entrance, a forced smile stretching her lips across her teeth. Her publicist stood by her side, holding the door as half a dozen men and women entered, passing by Miss Love in their hurry to get inside the famous actress’s personal domain.

One by one, the journalists and the crews wandered room by room. Miss Love enlisted the assistance of the housekeeper to explain the layout of the house and the names of each of the suites.

Keeping a close eye on the guests and the camera man, Duke edged closer to Lena, ready to leap in front of her should someone get too close.

At last they worked their way into the master suite. Everyone was suitably impressed with the beautiful, modern king-size bed with its soft cotton-candy pink comforter.

Lena led the crew into the bathroom, and they all came to an abrupt halt.

“Damn!” Lena cursed. “How the hell did he get in here?”

Duke’s adrenaline spiked, and he squeezed between her Publicist and the wall, breaking through to the open interior of the massive master bath.

Lena stood staring at the wall of mirrors, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Angel had to give the author credit for writing that much in lipstick. She’d have given up after the first line.

Despite her flippant outlook on the message, a chill rippled across her skin. The message drawn on Lena’s face was playing out. Whoever had it in for Lena was on a roll. She wondered how far he’d take it.

“Everyone out,” Duke commanded.

Lena started for the door, but Duke hooked her arm and pulled her against his body.

Electric current zapped through her, heating her where she touched him and spreading that warmth throughout her body. The man was like an igniter switch on a gas burning fireplace. Every time he touched her, her blood burned.

Not a good thing when she needed to keep her secrets and her distance.

Most of the men and women backed out, with the exception of Phillip. The publicity agent’s eyes took on an excited glow. He snagged the cameraman as he attempted to fit through the door with the camera on his shoulder. “Where are you going? You need to get a shot of that.”

Angel nearly laughed when Duke glared at the two.

“I said get out,” Duke said in his lowest, most dangerous and absolutely sexiest voice.

Places farther south inside Angel throbbed to the tone.

“Are you kidding?” Phillip ignored Duke and directed the cameraman. “Get the mirror from this angle.” He turned to Lena. “Stand closer to the mirror and look terrified. This is good stuff. It might even make national news.”

“Out!” Duke said.

Phillip jumped and finally seemed to hear Duke. The man really was irritating. Angel didn’t know how Lena put up with him.

“You don’t understand,” Phillip whined. “This is an opportunity to get Lena into the public eye, gain sympathy and show how vulnerable she can be. The studios will eat this shit up.”

“You’ll have to schedule another show. As long as I’m her bodyguard, this chick’s my responsibility.” Duke pointed to the door. “Get out, before I throw you out.” He stood between Phillip and Angel, his arms crossed over his chest.

Standing behind him, Angel had the best view of all those rippling muscles. As a stunt woman, she was around some pretty ripped dudes. But this bodyguard had alpha magnetism in spades. She could swear he’d been in the military at some time in the recent past. He carried himself with the dignity of a man who’d worn a uniform for his country. Having served herself, she could pick them out in a crowd of civilians.

Angel leaned around him to see if Phillip was actually going to get smart and get out while he still had all of his teeth.

Phillip frowned. “You’re supposed to be guarding her, not interfering in her publicity.”

“I’m guarding her from you.” He grabbed Phillip’s arm and dragged him toward the door.

The cameraman scurried out, bumping his big camera against the doorframe in his hurry to escape the wrath of Duke.

“I’ll have a talk with Mr. Patterson about your behavior,” Phillip said.

“Do that. In the meantime, don’t piss me off.” He gave one last shove, sending Phillip stumbling out of the bathroom. Then he slammed the door in the man’s face.

Angel couldn’t help it, she had to give the man props for taking matters in his own hands and doing what he was being paid to do. “Bravo. I’ve wanted to do that from the moment he arrived.”

Duke turned back, a frown cleaving his forehead. “Then why didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “I guess he knows what he’s doing. He’s the publicist. I’m just the talent.” She tipped her head toward the mirror, remembering to play her Lena part. “What a shame.”

“What do you mean?”

Her lips twisted. “That was my favorite lipstick.” She fought to keep from laughing at the look of disgust on Duke’s face.

He shook his head. “Ruining a tube of lipstick is the least of your worries.”

“You don’t know how hard it is to find a color you simply love.” She raised a hand to fluff her hair and stared past the smears on the mirror to study her reflection like Lena would have, every chance she got.