Fast Burn

“Damn.”

His hold was soothing, but the last thing she wanted from him, from anyone, was pity. “The little girl, Mari, screamed from the gunshot, but she never saw the body. Soon as the guy hit the ground I scooped her up and got her out of the room, telling her it was just a loud noise.” Sahara could still remember the thin arms clinging so tightly to her neck, the shaking of that small body and the soft sobs after the scream.

Until that day, she’d never thought about having children of her own. She missed Mari a lot.

“How long were you on assignment with the family?”

“Two months. But the time flew by since I mostly played with Mari.” She twisted her mouth. “Afternoon tea with a G.I. Joe, a stuffed bear and a Barbie. Oh, the scrapes Barbie and Joe got into. The bear and I would just watch in amazement.”

Brand grinned. “You know, I can almost picture it, you in a tiny little chair sipping out of an empty plastic teacup with an audience of toys.”

“Good times,” she said, then tipped her head. “Can you see me killing a man?”

After briefly locking on her eyes, his gaze moved over her face and settled on her mouth. “Yeah, I guess I can. If it came to protecting someone you cared about.”

Well, that was something anyway. “I had a shorter assignment with a twenty-three-year-old. I was only a year older than him and he had some serious misconceptions about the role of a bodyguard.”

“How so?”

“I spent more time fending him off than protecting him. He got impossibly grabby.”

Brand went back to scowling. “Your brother allowed that?”

“I didn’t tell him! That would have been like admitting I couldn’t handle the job, and it was an important one. He was a movie star’s son being hassled by a radical group that opposed the star’s last movie. Apparently, they didn’t understand fiction versus reality. They wanted to drive home their point by making his son miserable anytime he ventured into public. You’ll understand that it was all confidential so I can’t give names or details.”

“Sure. Tell me the part where you knocked the punk out.”

She grinned. “We’ve already surmised that I’m not physically powerful.”

He agreed by saying, “You should have quit.”

“I couldn’t. Scott chose me for the job because I was close enough in age to blend in. The boy didn’t want his friends to know he had a bodyguard. Guess it dented his macho pride or something.”

“First, he’s not a boy. At twenty-three, he’s a man. And second, I hope you dented the hell out of his pride.”

That was one of the nice things about Brand: he had a similar mindset to her and they often agreed on things. “Of course I did. We were at a club with his friends. He kept trying to force me to dance with him. I knew where that would lead with the octopus, so I refused. I could keep an eye on him from the bar, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He grabbed my wrist and wouldn’t let go.”

Expression darkening more by the moment, Brand asked, “What did you do?”

“I tripped him to the ground. That made him mad and he grabbed for me again.”

“To do what?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want to find out, so I grabbed two fingers and twisted enough to break them.”

“Ouch,” Brand said with smiling satisfaction.

“He raged and decided it was time for us to go—with my wholehearted agreement. I had visions of the whole assignment going to hell, but it took an uptick when we stepped outside and the same group I was supposed to protect him from was there to mob him. That got him moving quickly to get in the car. On the way, I had to...ahem, assault a man who tried to drag my client back out of the car.”

“Assault him how?”

“With my knee.” She struck a pose, showing the knee she’d used and drawing Brand’s undivided attention to her exposed leg. “In a place where no man wants to get hit.”

Dragging his focus back to her face, Brand winced for real. “I gather that worked?”

“Like a charm.” At least that night she hadn’t shot anyone. “When Scott heard the whole story, he tore into the client and his father, and got me a bonus with an apology from the boy.”

“Man.”

“Man-boy,” she compromised. “The third assignment was just a matter of escorting a local politician to and from a speech. It went off without incident.”

“How come you never mentioned any of this before now?”

“Why would I?” She rarely discussed her background with anyone, because those stories all centered around her missing brother and left her grieving the loss anew. “My history with the agency has nothing to do with the reasons why you should sign on.”

He turned speculative. “And you’ve been all about getting my agreement.”

“Yes.” She gave that a quick thought and asked, “Does knowing my history make you more inclined to—”

“Not really.” Gaze intense, Brand slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders. “You’ve always amazed me, with or without the history report.”

As he leaned closer—to kiss her, she was sure—she said desperately, “Work for me.”

Without a smidge of regret, he said, “No,” and then his mouth was on hers, his lips pressing, his tongue touching until she opened.

The second she did, his tongue slid in and she melted against him.

God help her, it was incendiary.

* * *

FROM THE DAY he’d met her, Brand knew it’d be like this. Sahara Silver with her classic bone structure, her sharp wit, her beautiful blue eyes and slender body, was almost too stunning.

He meant to keep his hands on safe ground, but then, he hadn’t meant to kiss her either. Without really thinking about it, his palms slid over her shoulders and down her back, feeling the soft cashmere of her short-sleeved sweater, the firm resiliency of her flesh beneath.

She had expensive taste in fashion and always looked like a million bucks. She loved sugary pastry, but far as he could tell, she never gained a pound. No matter the company she kept, be it fighters, senators or twisted criminals, she was always comfortable.

She had no problem pampering herself, and no problem taking charge of any situation.

She tasted good, and felt even better.

But kissing her was a dumb move because Sahara wasn’t for him.

She wanted him, yes—to work for her.

She’d chased him—to get his agreement. For her, the hard-core campaign to win him over hadn’t been personal.

He couldn’t question her participation in the kiss, especially with her hands locked in his hair keeping him close, but when it came down to it she would always choose her brother’s memory, and thus the agency, first.

The sexual attraction was secondary for her, and that made it not enough for him.

If his friends Leese, Justice and Miles didn’t work for her maybe he’d take what he wanted before walking away. But that could end up complicating things for the guys who had left fighting for Body Armor, and he couldn’t do that to them.

Sahara pressed closer, her breasts to his chest, her belly to his dick, and logic nearly flew the coop.

He lowered his hands to her perfectly shaped ass, toned from the sky-high heels she favored—heels that made her long legs look even more amazing. Scooping her closer, he rubbed her against him, then stifled a groan.

Two seconds more and he’d be hard.

Ending the kiss wasn’t easy, not with her tongue dueling with his and all those soft, sexy sounds escaping her. He gentled her, slowed her down and finally freed his mouth. Hoping to make it less abrupt, he kissed a trail over her stubborn jaw to that sensitive spot just beneath her ear.

Subtle perfume vied with the natural scent of her fragrant skin.

She tipped back her head.

Unable to ignore that invitation, he teased damp kisses along her throat before drawing her head to his shoulder. He returned his hands to her upper back, moving up and down to soothe her.

Against her temple he said, “I’m sorry, Sahara. I shouldn’t have started that.” But he wasn’t sure anything could have stopped him from tasting her. “This isn’t the time or place to get carried away.”

Awareness drew her back and she stared at him in shock, her blue eyes wide and vague, her lips—now slightly swollen—parted.

Brand smoothed a tendril of thick, light brown hair that had escaped her pins. “You okay?”

That got her stepping quickly away. “Yes, of course.” She brushed her palms against the tight material of her skirt over her thighs. “It was only a kiss.”

For some reason, it annoyed him that she downplayed the impact. “A kiss that had you crawling all over me, and you damn near yanked out my hair.”

Her eyes widened even more...and then she laughed. “We did get a little carried away.”

“A little,” he agreed, still nettled. Could she really be less affected than he was? Or was she hiding behind her usual cool persona?

“I’m fine.” She reached up to remove his sunglasses, then stroked her fingers through his hair. “But did I hurt you?”

Her touch ignited him all over again. Dangerous. He’d known that about her within minutes of their first introduction. Catching her wrists, he lowered her hands—but then couldn’t let go.

And she didn’t pull away. After a long look, she said, “We could...discuss this more tonight.”

Hell of a suggestion, but he’d damn near lost it in her office with Enoch just outside the door. If he had her alone, no way in hell would he be able to keep his hands off her. So he shook his head and explained, “I’m meeting the guys at a bar tonight.”

One slender brow arched up. “My guys?”

Did she think she owned them? “If you mean Leese, Justice and Miles, yeah, they’ll be there, but arriving at different times. I think Leese is between assignments, right? And both Miles and Justice should finish up for the day in time to join us.”

“Us?”

“A half-dozen other fighters, some of their wives. You’ve met most of them.”

She nodded. “Will you be going to that quaint little hometown place, Rowdy’s?”

Damn it, did she plan to crash the party? Actually, how the hell did she know about Rowdy’s? He thought about asking her, but decided he’d be better off getting out of there. “That’s the plan, yeah.”

She waited, but when he said nothing more, she briefly looked wounded before giving him a cool smile. “Have fun then.” She went back behind her desk and turned on the monitor to her PC in clear dismissal. “Do let me know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.” But he didn’t like being dismissed. “My sunglasses?”

As if she forgot she held them, she looked at her hand in surprise. “Oh sorry.” Nonchalant, she leaned forward, offering them to him without getting up, her attention still on the monitor.

Proving he had a perverse streak a mile wide, Brand let his fingers slowly graze hers as he took the glasses.

Her startled gaze flew to his face, but she only grinned, once again in full control. “Wicked, that’s what you are.” She fluttered her fingers at him. “Thanks for stopping by.”

And she went back to staring at the screen.

Left with nothing else to do, Brand walked out. That meeting hadn’t gone as planned, but then nothing with Sahara ever did.

He knew he’d done the right thing.

So then why did it feel like he’d been kicked in the chest?

CHAPTER TWO

SHE WOULD NOT feel dejected, Sahara promised herself as she walked through the lobby toward the parking garage exit. Her heels clicked on the marble tiles and she smiled automatically at every friendly face she saw.

Anita, the lobby receptionist, stood to ask, “Done for the day, Ms. Silver?”

“I am, yes.” She liked Anita, so she stopped to ask, “How’s the weather out there? Still raining?”

“Storming, unfortunately. Do you need an umbrella?”

“I’ll go from the garage here to my garage at home, but thank you. What about you?”

“I’ll make a mad dash into my apartment, but I have a raincoat with me.”

“So you’re not worried about melting either?”

She laughed. “I like rain, actually. Always have.”

“Same here. A good storm leaves everything fresh.” Sahara buttoned up her lightweight coat and pulled up the collar. “Be careful driving then.”

“You, too, Ms. Silver.”

She waved as she stepped away.

Other employees spoke to her, all of them friendly and familiar but still respectful. For her, Body Armor was a business with a family vibe. After all, she’d practically grown up here. Being sixteen years older than her, Scott had taken over raising her while their parents traveled the world. She’d always known she was an unpleasant surprise for them, but she’d never doubted Scott’s love.

The agency was all she had left of him and being here, surrounded by people he’d hired, protocols he’d put into place, contacts he’d built, made her feel closer to him.

Brand was a distraction, the first to consume her since she’d taken over the agency, and that scared her a little. She had to shake it off. She was not a woman to brood.

So he’d kissed her senseless, then made it clear that he didn’t want her to join him for the evening. Men were fickle. She’d been dealing with them long enough that it shouldn’t have bothered her.

But...she’d thought her men, all of them, liked her as more than a boss. They had an easy camaraderie. She’d spent time with them outside of work and they’d never seemed to mind. She liked to think she’d been helpful when it came to various problems they’d encountered.

Holding her purse strap over her shoulder, she pushed through the security doors to the parking garage. Her black Mercedes-Maybach, looking much like all the other black sedans in the garage, sat in isolated splendor in her private spot.

The spot reserved for the boss.

The spot where her brother used to park.

Stop it. Melancholy doesn’t suit you.

She could have used a driver, as she often did. But tonight she’d wanted the solitude of a quiet drive home.

The storm raged and she pulled onto the road cautiously. At only 7:00 p.m., it looked like midnight, dark clouds obliterating any light. There wasn’t much traffic, and even driving more slowly, she neared her home outside the city within twenty minutes.

She could see the keyless entry gate for the long private drive when suddenly an SUV pulled crossways into the road, blocking the way. She slowed, the sense of danger overwhelming her. Headlights shone in her rearview mirror as another black SUV approached and that vehicle, too, pulled across the road.

Well, hell. Her doors were already locked, so using the automated voice control, she called Leese Phelps.

He answered with a lot of noise in the background, so she assumed he was at the bar already. “Hey, Sahara.”

“I probably have thirty seconds at most,” she said quickly and with, she hoped, admirable calm. “With my driveway in sight, two cars blocked the road. There are three men from each car approaching.” Her throat tightened. “They’re wearing masks.”

“Jesus.”

“I do believe I’m going to be taken.” At least she hoped that was the case, that they wouldn’t murder her outright.

“Keep your doors locked.” She heard the urgency in his tone. “I’m on my way and I’ll call the police to meet me.”

“You won’t make it in time. Until this is resolved, you’re in charge.”

“Damn it, Sahara—”

“You know the protocol we used with Catalina. Enoch has the details—” She froze as one big man stood in the pouring rain beside her car, his face and body hidden in black. She couldn’t even make out his eyes through the water dripping along the window.

Then he reached inside his jacket.

“Sahara?”

She ignored Leese’s demand, her heart pounding in fear...until the man slapped a photo of Scott against her window.

“Sahara!” he said again, his voice pure gravel.

“No police,” she insisted. She’d take no chances spooking men who might have information on her brother. Leaving her car running, the call open, she shoved open the door and stepped out. “You know Scott? Where is he?”

Blue eyes, now more visible as she stood before him, narrowed in satisfaction. He wrapped a meaty hand around her upper arm. “You’re going to tell me. Let’s go.”

* * *

BRAND IGNORED THE woman trying to get his attention with touches inappropriate for a public space. He ignored, too, the snickers of his amused friends as he drew back the pool cue to take a shot, effectively forcing her away.

He wanted to win the game, but he didn’t care about female company right now. The leggy brunette who again tried to hug up to his side was cute enough, definitely stacked enough, but he couldn’t drum up an ounce of interest.

He sank two balls on the table...just as her hand came around the front of his jeans, seeking balls of a different sort.

“Jesus,” he muttered, catching her wrist.

“Stop playing hard to get.”

He scowled at her. “Actually, honey, I’m not playing.”

When Leese charged into the room, all but grabbing Miles and Justice, a sick feeling dropped into his gut. Brand thrust the cue at the pushy woman and, a few steps behind, followed his friends through the bar. He saw them talking as they went out the front door and into the storm, but through the throngs of people milling about, he couldn’t hear their conversation.

He’d seen the alarm on Miles’s face, though, and the rage on Justice’s.

Only seconds behind them, he stepped outside and found them standing huddled together under the overhang, Leese talking fast.

He heard, “Sahara was taken. She knew it was going to happen when two cars blocked the road she was on.”

Shoving his way into their throng, Brand demanded, “Where?”

Leese spared him a glance. “In front of her house, or very near it.”

Someone had taken her. Every fiber of his being rebelled against the possibilities. She couldn’t be hurt. Please, God, don’t let her get hurt.

Justice bunched up like a junkyard dog and growled, “Tell me what to do.”

“I don’t fucking know,” Leese said. “Right before she stopped replying, she insisted on no police. I heard her mention Scott to the men, six of them, so one of them must have said something, though I didn’t hear any of them speak. I’m heading over there now to see if I can pick up a clue.”

“I’m going, too,” Brand said.

“You don’t work for her,” Leese reminded him.

Making it perfectly clear, Brand said, “I don’t give a fuck. I’m going.” When his cell rang, he and Leese were still engaged in a stare-down so he ignored it.

Justice gave him a shove. “It could be her.”

Given the way things had ended between them, he seriously doubted that, but Brand dug the phone from his jeans pocket and glanced at the screen. He didn’t recognize the number so he answered with a curt “What is it?”

Sahara’s voice came through, along with a lot of static. “I have to make this very brief. I’ve been taken by some men who seem to think I know where my brother is.”

His heart tried to escape his chest. Her brother was dead. Everyone knew it except for Sahara. With a touch of his thumb he switched her to speaker. “Where are you?”

“We’re still driving, and I have no idea where we’re headed.”

“Can you see anything?”

“No windows.” Someone in the background gave an abrupt order and, sounding annoyed, she added, “I’m told, since I can’t give them Scott’s whereabouts, I could instead have one of my men bring a ransom. Apparently the same amount Scott owed them.”

Fury rippled through every muscle in his body. “I’ll come get you.”

“Yes, I was hoping that you would, Leese.”

Leese? Did she not recognize his voice?

“The men know the agency well, including all my bodyguards. I’m sure they’ll recognize you when they see you so please don’t try sending the police instead. There are to be no police. Do you understand? Promise me.”

Knowing now that she wasn’t alone, Brand said, “I promise.” He pictured some psycho next to her, manipulating her, forcing her to detail those terms, and rage worse than he’d ever known churned inside him.

There was some fumbling through the connection and suddenly a deep voice said, “Listen up, Phelps. Come alone and don’t try anything or your boss is not going to have a pleasant time with us.”

The man thought he was Leese, so he’d go with that. “Tell me when and where, and how much to bring. I’ll be there.”

Miles, Justice and Leese stared at him in strained silence. The storm raged around them with flashes of light that crackled across the black sky, and ground-trembling booms of thunder.

But it was nothing compared to his personal turbulence.

“Soon,” the man said. “Repeat any of this to the cops and I’ll gut her slowly—after enjoying her a bit.”

“Touch her,” Brand warned, “and you’re a dead man.” The call ended before he could say more.

Blood pumping fast, Brand clutched the phone and looked at each of his friends. He hoped like hell someone knew what to do.

“I’ll rip him apart,” Justice growled quietly.

Brand knew that when Catalina, one of Leese’s clients—a woman he ended up marrying—had been in serious danger, Justice had been Sahara’s personal bodyguard, protecting her against the threats that had spilled over to them all. Since then, Justice still felt overly protective toward her, even though he, too, would soon be marrying.

“He thought I was you,” Brand said to Leese, trying to make sense of it.

Proving why he was top dog at the agency, Leese said, “Sahara either put in the call or gave them the number, and she sure as hell knows the difference between us. She said something about the men knowing all her bodyguards, that they’d recognize you—me.”

Miles said, “It was a tip. She wants a face they won’t recognize to show up.”

“I assume so,” Leese agreed. “That way, when I go to deliver money, the other, unknown person will have a chance of getting to her.”

Brand ran a hand into his hair, then tugged in frustration. “She’s never let up on trying to hire me to Body Armor. Hell of a way to lock me in, though.”

Justice looked murderous. “You don’t want to do it, fine. I’ll go incognito.”

Miles scoffed. “Like anyone would mistake a behemoth like you?”

True enough, Brand thought. Justice was enormous. “It was just an observation, Justice. No way in hell am I passing the buck.” Even if Sahara hadn’t singled him out, he’d insist on it.

After all, she’d called him.

“If she’s hurt,” he said, tortured by the thought but unable to obliterate it, “if one of those bastards even touches her—”

Leese interrupted his growing threat. “You’re not trained, Brand. My best guess is that Sahara wanted me to find someone else who can fill in, but she didn’t specifically mean you.”

Digging in, Brand repeated, “I’m doing it.” Leese and the others didn’t know that he and Sahara had something personal going on, despite his efforts to the contrary. And he wouldn’t tell them. They were Sahara’s employees and if she wanted them to know, she’d do the telling.

But that didn’t mean he’d let them cut him out. The way he saw it, Sahara had reached out to him, and by God, he’d be there 100 percent.

“You don’t know how to shoot—”

“I’ve been shooting since I was fifteen.”

That gave them all pause. “You have?” Miles asked.

“Are we really going to discuss my past right now?”

“No.” Leese turned away with purpose. “We can ride together.”

“To where?” Brand asked, even as he followed into the downpour.

Speaking loud over the storm, Leese explained, “In one breath Sahara put me in charge until she’s back, and then she mentioned Enoch.”

Soaked through to the skin, Miles and Brand climbed into the back seat of an agency SUV. Leese got behind the wheel and Justice rode shotgun. As they buckled up, Brand asked, “Enoch?”

“Respect him a lot,” Miles said. “But he’s an assistant, not a bodyguard.”