He can handle killers.

But guarding a beautiful woman? He’s defenseless.

Tyce Jackson’s had some dangerous undercover assignments. But acting as Bella Holmes’s boyfriend is his riskiest yet. Because heiress Bella isn’t what he’d expected. And focusing on protecting her is proving to be a colossal challenge. Despite their mutual distrust, their seismic attraction is off the charts. But with killers watching Bella’s every move, Tyce must not lose his cool—or his heart.

Ever since LISA CHILDS read her first romance novel (a Mills & Boon story, of course) at age eleven, all she wanted was to be a romance writer. With over forty novels published with Mills & Boon, Lisa is living her dream. She is an award-winning, bestselling romance author. Lisa loves to hear from readers, who can contact her on Facebook, through her website, lisachilds.com, or her snail-mail address, PO Box 139, Marne, MI 49435.

Also By Lisa Childs

Bachelor Bodyguards

His Christmas Assignment

Bodyguard Daddy

Bodyguard’s Baby Surprise

Beauty and the Bodyguard

Nanny Bodyguard

Single Mom’s Bodyguard

In the Bodyguard’s Arms

Soldier Bodyguard

Guarding His Witness

Evidence of Attraction

Bodyguard Boyfriend

Colton 911

Colton 911: Baby’s Bodyguard

The Coltons of Red Ridge

Colton’s Cinderella Bride

Top Secret Deliveries

The Bounty Hunter’s Baby Surprise

The Coltons of Shadow Creek

The Colton Marine

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Bodyguard Boyfriend

Lisa Childs

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90518-7

BODYGUARD BOYFRIEND

© 2020 Lisa Childs

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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For my late mother, Mary Lou Childs, who loved her family so selflessly and generously and for whom I will be forever grateful and forever try to emulate.

“You’re in danger.”

Bella nodded. She was. In danger of falling for him...

“I need to stay focused,” Tyce said. “I can’t get distracted like I was earlier.”

“You were distracted?”

“You know that I was. From dancing with you...” His voice lowered to a deep rumble in his chest. “I couldn’t wait to get you back here, to get you back in bed.”

Her pulse quickened and she struggled to breathe. She wanted that now—to be in bed with him. But then she remembered what had happened because he’d been distracted—he had been shot.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I need to stay focused on my job.”

He was her bodyguard. Only her bodyguard... She needed to remember that. Acting like her boyfriend was only his cover. Was only an act.

She lifted herself up on her feet again. Then she turned to walk away from him.

But he stood up and reached out. “Oh, hell,” he murmured before he lowered his mouth to hers.

* * *

Be sure to check out the previous books in the exciting Bachelor Bodyguards miniseries.

Dear Reader,

This month’s Bachelor Bodyguards release, Bodyguard Boyfriend, brings us back to River City, Michigan, and the Payne Protection Agency. I love writing the Bachelor Bodyguards series because I love the dynamics of the Payne family. They are a close-knit family but also welcoming, as every bodyguard who joins the agency learns. When the Payne Protection Agency hires a bodyguard, he doesn’t get just a job; he gets a family, as well.

And some of these guys can really use family, especially the team Parker Payne has hired that were all former vice cops with River City PD. As bodyguards, they wind up still working to take down the drug dealer who’s been murderously ruling River City for years. Tyce Jackson is assigned to be the bodyguard for a judge’s daughter, and sparks and bullets fly when he has to pose as her boyfriend in order to protect her. To fit into her high-society world, rough-around-the-edges Tyce needs a makeover, so he becomes a Cinderfella in this reverse Cinderella story. Bella Holmes is too busy trying to honor her late mother’s legacy of charity work and nonprofit foundations to be Princess Charming to anyone. She also doesn’t think she needs a bodyguard, but if she did, she wouldn’t want Tyce. Or so she thinks...until she sees Tyce’s transformation.

I hope you enjoy this latest installment of Bachelor Bodyguards!

Happy reading!

Lisa Childs

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Introduction

Dear Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Everything was perfect. The music was low enough and the lights high enough that everything and everyone could be heard and seen in the beautifully decorated ballroom. All the important people were in attendance. They were opening their wallets and checkbooks, making significant donations, which made all of Bella Holmes’s hard work to pull off this event worthwhile. Since it was a black-tie affair, everyone was dressed so elegantly. They all looked beautiful—like movie stars.

Except for him...

She noticed him the moment he entered the ballroom of the River City Grand Plaza. How had he even gotten into the event? Of course, he was much bigger than the security guys she’d hired to watch the door. Their main duty was just to take tickets and invitations, though. There was no way this man had either of those.

She had not invited him and she doubted he could have afforded the price of a ticket. Unless he was one of those eccentric millionaires who enjoyed looking so unkempt and...

She shivered.

He looked like he didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone. His black hair was long and thick and unruly, and a bushy black beard covered his square jaw and part of his neck. He wore a black jacket, but it wasn’t part of a tuxedo. There was no white shirt or tie beneath the leather jacket, either. And he wore faded jeans with black boots like the ones motorcyclists wore. In fact, she suspected that was what he’d driven to the gala. He carried no helmet, though, so he’d either checked it at the door or chosen to ride without one.

Other people had noticed him—probably due to his size as well as his appearance. He had to be well over six feet tall, and his shoulders were so broad they strained against that leather jacket. The guests murmured and tittered among themselves.

He paid them no attention, though, as he looked around the expansive ballroom as if searching for someone. Was that why he was there? For someone in particular?

Then he turned his head and his gaze locked with hers. He didn’t look away. He stared directly at her as he started walking toward her.

Bella’s knees began to weaken and shake. He was here for her. Daddy had warned her. He’d told her that some criminal in an upcoming trial over which he was going to preside had threatened her.

Was this man that criminal?

Maybe she shouldn’t have shrugged off her father’s concern like she had. But as a criminal judge, Daddy was threatened all the time. Desperate claims by desperate people. This was the first time he’d seemed genuinely worried, though, so worried that he’d been insisting she have a bodyguard.

And now she understood why—if this was the man who’d made those threats. But that man had been denied bail; so he was in jail. That was why she’d told her father she didn’t need a bodyguard and, more important, that she didn’t want one. Had he sent one anyway?

This man was very focused on her. As he drew closer, she noticed that his eyes were brown but a very light, very golden brown, like topaz. And more alarming than that, she also noticed the bulge beneath his jacket. It wasn’t from his muscles, though they strained the leather, as well. The bulge was from a gun.

With a gasp of outrage, she turned—breaking their visual connection. Then she began to move through the crowd, heading for the other end of the ballroom. Years of practice in social situations had her smiling brightly at the people who tried to stop her to speak. She just shook her head regretfully and promised she would be right back.

And she would be, once she handled this. Privately. She could feel him behind her, moving through the crowd, too, which parted for him as it compressed around her. She should probably head in the other direction, toward the entrance and the security guards positioned there. But they had let him pass—without an invitation or a ticket. Obviously they would not be able to stop him from doing whatever he intended to do to her. Did he intend to protect her? Was he her bodyguard?

She was about to find out. Because as she neared the end of the room, a strong hand wrapped around her arm.

A lot of other people had touched her as she’d passed them. But she instinctively knew the hand on her arm was his. It was so big and so strong—just like him. And even though other people had reached out to her, all of them had been too polite to just grab her.

No. She knew it was him. That he was the one who’d grabbed her. And he’d jerked her to a stop so abruptly that she teetered on her stiletto heels and began to fall.

Tyce caught her before she fell. As she stumbled and swayed, he wrapped an arm around her small waist and jerked her up against his body. He tensed as he felt a jolt as if she’d stabbed him.

But she only stared up at him, her green eyes wide with shock as if she’d felt that same jolt. She recovered quickly, though. Faster than he had. Pressing her palms against his chest, she pushed away from him. But with his arm locked around her waist, she couldn’t put much distance between their bodies—not enough that he still didn’t feel the heat of hers. Or the tension...

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her full red lips pursed in disapproval. She apparently didn’t think he belonged at such a fancy event.

She wasn’t wrong. Tyce was uncomfortable, the kind of uncomfortable he would be if he’d inadvertently volunteered to model naked for an art class and everybody was staring at him, studying his every pore. Like they were staring at him now, studying him. At least he had his clothes on, though, and they were his own damn clothes. He didn’t care that he wasn’t dressed like everybody else. They looked even more uncomfortable than he was, like they were wearing straitjackets instead of monkey suits. Even she had nearly tripped in her heels and long, golden-colored dress. But that was because she’d been trying to get away from him.

“I work for the Payne Protection Agency,” he said, “which has been hired to guard you.”

She shook her head. “I told him no.”

Tyce had tried saying no, too. Why had he, of everybody on his team, been assigned to protect the princess? Tyce Jackson was nobody’s idea of a prince.

She pushed harder against his chest. “You need to leave.”

He’d been warned that she didn’t want protection. She clearly didn’t want him there. Probably didn’t want to be seen with him. He’d dated women like her—in high school, college and after—ones who’d wanted to walk on the wild side with a bad boy. But they hadn’t wanted anyone to see them taking that walk. “I’m not leaving without you.”

Her green eyes narrowed as she stared up at him, as if doubting what he’d said. He’d heard she was an airhead who’d dropped out of college to spend her life going from party to party.

But then, with the trust fund she’d inherited from her dead mother and the one she would receive as her wealthy father’s only heir, she didn’t have to worry about her future. Financially at least.

Nevertheless, with notorious drug dealer Luther Mills making threats against everyone involved in his prosecution for murder of a police informant, her future wasn’t secure physically. To get to her father—the judge for his trial—Luther Mills was threatening her.

“I told my father I didn’t need a bodyguard,” she said. “He’s overreacting. If I feel like I’m in danger, I will call the police.”

Her father had said he’d talked to her about Luther’s threats, but apparently she hadn’t listened. She didn’t seem to be aware that there was a leak within the River City police department. With the exception of the chief, nobody within the department could really be trusted. Neither could anyone within the district attorney’s office; there was a leak there, too.

“I’m here tonight to take you to a meeting,” he said, glancing at the clock on the ballroom wall.

She shook her head again. Her blond hair, which had been piled high on top of her head, didn’t move, the pins holding tightly.

Like he continued to hold her. But he had a feeling that if he released her, she would try to get away from him again. And he couldn’t risk that. “We need to leave now,” he said. “So we’re not late.”

She tensed even more than she’d been, drawing herself up as if trying to look down on him. She was tall, but still the top of her head just came to his chin, he was that much taller than she was. At six foot eight, he was taller than most people, though.

“I am not going anywhere with you,” she said.

Of course not—if the situation was anything but what it was. “I’m not asking you out,” he said. “I’m making sure you get to the meeting.”

“Meeting?” she asked, arching a blond brow in skepticism. “I have no interest in any meeting.”

He was sure she didn’t. “That’s not my problem.” It was her father’s and, Tyce’s boss, Parker Payne’s problem. His job was just to get her there.

“And I can’t possibly leave this event yet,” she said, her voice full of condescension as if he was the airhead.

He snorted. “You can skip out early on a party,” he said. “Especially when your life is at stake.”

She sighed. “Now you’re overreacting.”

He shook his head. “Not me...” He knew Luther Mills too well to underestimate him. Everybody involved in the drug dealer’s murder trial definitely needed protection. Tyce just wished he hadn’t been assigned to protect this particular person. He didn’t want to deal with a spoiled party girl who had no idea what the real world was like, that there were bad people out there who would have no problem hurting her.

Who wanted to hurt her.

The thought had his arm tightening around her a little more. He kept that arm around her waist as he turned her toward the entrance and he used that arm to nearly carry her along with him.

“Let me go,” she said, the words emanating from between her gritted teeth. And her lips, painted a deep red, were curved into a superficial smile directed at all those people who watched them both now.

He shook his head.

“I’ll scream,” she threatened.

And he chuckled. “You obviously don’t want to make a scene. I have no such problem. I’ll swing you over my shoulder and carry you out of here if you make me.”

“Try it,” she said. “Security will stop you and then the police will come and arrest you.”

He stared down at her, trying to gauge if she was bluffing or not. He couldn’t take the chance that she might not be. If security stopped him until the police arrived, they wouldn’t just be late for the meeting. They would risk tipping off Luther Mills’s informant in the police department that his plan had gotten out. That was why they were meeting at the agency office, so Luther wouldn’t find out about their new protection detail.

He uttered a ragged sigh. “Call your father,” he said. “He’s probably already at the Payne Protection Agency, which is where we’re supposed to be.” He reached beneath his jacket and pulled out his cell. Her father’s number was the last one on his caller’s list.

She must have noticed that because her lips parted as her eyes widened. “Daddy called you directly? He personally hired you?”

He grimaced at a grown woman calling her father “Daddy.” He’d had no idea how spoiled she actually was, but he was beginning to understand, which only confirmed his belief that he’d gotten the worst of the damn assignments for this detail. He punched the contact number and handed her the cell.

She stared at it for a moment before pressing it to her ear, as if even his phone wasn’t good enough for her. This was going to be a damn difficult assignment.

Across the ballroom another call was placed.

“Yes?” Luther Mills answered on the first ring.

The caller remembered that the drug dealer was sitting in jail; he had nothing else to do for now. He had sworn that he would be out soon, though. He was putting a plan in motion to get his charges thrown out, which was why he’d enlisted help to spy on Bella Holmes.

“Did you send someone after her here?” the caller asked, incredulous at Luther Mills’s audacity. But then Luther was known for his boldness; it was also what had finally gotten him arrested, though, when he’d shot someone right in front of a witness.

“Where’s ‘here’?” Luther asked.

“The River City Grand Plaza.”

Luther chuckled as if the idea amused him. He replied, “No. I just want her watched for now.”

He was waiting to see if his case actually went to trial before deciding whether or not he needed to use Bella Holmes.

“That’s what I’m paying you for,” Luther said. “You are watching her.”

Always, but not just because Luther had ordered it. “Yes. That’s why I’m calling. This guy—” who looked more like one of Luther’s crew than the caller did “—is obviously not a guest.”

“Is he a cop?” Luther asked.

The dealer’s spy chuckled at the thought of this ruffian being a police officer. “No.”

“Hmm...boyfriend?”

The caller laughed harder. Luther did not know Bella Holmes at all. She was such a snob. She’d never even dated a man who wore jeans around the house let alone to a black-tie event. “Absolutely not.”

“Then you better find out who the hell he is,” Luther ordered. “And make sure he won’t be a problem when we need to act on those threats we’ve been sending to the judge.”

We?

Luther wouldn’t be able to act—not from jail. That duty would fall to the caller. But hurting Bella Holmes would not be a problem; it would be a pleasure. In fact, the caller wasn’t certain it would be possible to wait until Mills gave the order to kill her.

Bella Holmes deserved to die. Now.

Chapter 2

Bella Holmes clicked off the cell and held it out to him. Her forehead was creased and annoyance darkened her green eyes. “Daddy knows I have this event tonight,” she murmured, glancing around the crowded ballroom. “I can’t leave now...”

“But you have to,” Tyce said. “The chief of police and—” he couldn’t resist mocking her “—Daddy are waiting for us.”

She glared at him. “Well, you can give me the address and I will meet you there.”

He shook his head. “That’s not how this works, Princess. You need to ride with me.”

She looked him up and down like she had when he’d first walked into the ballroom. He hadn’t missed her noticing him. Just like he hadn’t missed noticing her. With that kind of over-the-top, movie-star beauty, she was impossible to miss even in a ballroom full of similarly dressed-up women.

“I cannot jump on the back of your motorcycle,” she said as she gestured toward her long gown and heels.

His brow creased with confusion. “Motorcycle?” He had one. He’d even ridden it to work earlier that evening, but she couldn’t know that.

She ran her gaze down his body again and stared at his boots.

He tensed. The way she kept looking him up and down was beginning to affect him—not that she seemed to like much of what she was seeing. But for some reason, she kept looking...

Maybe she was just like all those other girls he’d known with their bad boy fantasies. Except that he wasn’t really a bad guy. He’d just spent so much time undercover—even as a teenage informant—that the cover was too hard to shake even though he’d left vice nearly a year ago to work for Parker. Sometimes he didn’t even know who he was.

He chuckled. “I’d love to see you on the back of my bike, Princess.” He reached out and touched the artfully arranged pile of golden-blond hair on top of her head. “This wouldn’t last long, though.”

She jerked back as if she was afraid he might mess up her hairdo. Or maybe she just didn’t want his hands on her because she considered him too far beneath her. “Stop calling me ‘Princess,’” she protested.

He chuckled again. “But you are such a princess. Don’t worry about your hair getting messed up,” he assured her. “I didn’t ride my bike here. I have a company SUV.”

“Company?”

“The Payne Protection Agency,” he reminded her. Man, she must have been the airhead he’d heard she was.

“So you’re a professional bodyguard?” she asked, shaking her head as if she didn’t believe it even before he answered her.

“Yes,” he said. “Your professional bodyguard. That’s why you’re leaving with me.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and began steering her toward the ballroom entrance.

She dragged her heels, though. “Can’t you...can’t you just get the car and meet me outside?” she asked. “I really need to say goodbye to some important people.”

“And you don’t want those important people to see you leaving with me,” he deduced.

Her face flushed a bright crimson, confirming that he was right. “Nobody needs to know I have a bodyguard,” she said.

“Nobody should know,” he agreed.

“Then how do I explain who you are when people inquire?” she asked.

“You tell them it’s none of their damn business,” he replied.

Her green eyes widened with shock, as if the thought had never occurred to her. And maybe it hadn’t. “I—I can’t do that,” she said.

“Why the hell not?” he asked.

She sniffed, but she didn’t have a runny nose—just a stuck-up one. “It would be rude.”

“So is keeping me, your father and the chief of police waiting,” he said.

“But I can’t just leave,” she protested. “This is my event.”

He sighed. “I’m sure they’re all your events.” She was known as the party girl of River City. “But for once, you won’t be the one shutting down the place.”

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand,” he interrupted her. “And that’s why you need to get to this damn meeting.” So the chief and her father could explain the danger of the situation to her.

Tyce already knew. A former vice cop, he’d spent years undercover within Luther Mills’s organization. He knew very well just how dangerous and ruthless the drug dealer was. Being behind bars hadn’t made him less so, either. If anything, it had only made Luther more dangerous because now he was desperate, and he’d already been capable of anything.

Despite his leather jacket, a sudden chill passed through Tyce, and he glanced around the ballroom. Everybody was still staring at them—just as they had been. But Tyce had a feeling that not everybody was staring in curiosity. Somebody out there was more than curious. He could almost feel the hatred in the stare and that chill chased down his spine, making him shiver with dread.

Nobody there knew him, so that look had to be directed at Bella. He was done arguing with her. He needed to get her the hell out.

“You have a choice,” he told her. “You can either walk out of here with me on your own two feet. Or I can swing you over my shoulder and carry you out.”

He wasn’t playing.

Bella instinctively knew that, so she agreed to leave with him—on her own two feet. Of course, those feet were clad in stilettos that made it difficult for her to keep up with his fast pace, so that he wound up nearly carrying her out of the ballroom.

Fortunately, he moved so quickly that only one person was able to intercept them as they left. Her good friend and assistant, Camille, ran up to them in the lobby.

“Where are you going?” the dark-haired girl asked. “You can’t leave yet!”

The bodyguard opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Bella squeezed his arm to stop him from speaking. “He’s taking me to see my father,” she replied.

“Is everything all right?” Camille asked with concern. “Is the judge okay?”

Bella nodded, and the pins in her hair pulled at her scalp. “Yes.”

Camille’s dark-eyed gaze slid from Bella to the big man with his arm around her waist. “So he’s a friend of your father’s?” the woman doubtfully asked.

Before Bella could answer, the bodyguard tugged her toward the door. “We have to go.”

“I’ll explain later,” Bella assured her friend. “Please, make sure everything continues to go smoothly.” She ached at the thought of leaving everything in her assistant’s hands. While Camille was quite capable, this was Bella’s event. She’d spent months planning every detail and to not be able to see it through...

“What about Michael?” Camille asked.

Michael? Bella had completely forgotten about her date. Not that they were serious or anything...just old friends who served as each other’s plus one for social obligations.

She was still being rude, though. And she hated being rude. “I’ll text him when I get a chance, but if you see him, tell him I’m sorry I had to leave,” Bella said, nearly shouting the words to Camille as the bodyguard led her through the lobby.

A black SUV was parked just outside the lobby doors. She knew it was his even before he opened the passenger door for her. A valet stood nervously beside it. But he didn’t have the keys. The bodyguard pulled those from the pocket of his black leather jacket as he slammed the door shut on her.

The vehicle smelled like him—like leather and...man. He pulled open the driver’s door and slid in behind the wheel. He was so big that he filled the front seat, his shoulder nearly touching hers over the console between their seats.

She shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked. After turning the key in the ignition, he reached for the heater controls.

“I’d like my jacket,” she said.

“We don’t have time to retrieve it from coat check.” He started to move against the seat as he pulled at his sleeve. “I can give you mine.”

She shook her head.

He chuckled as he moved both his hands to the steering wheel. He peeled away from the hotel.

Why did he find her so damn amusing?

But she didn’t ask him. Maybe because she didn’t want to know the answer. “What is your name?” she asked. That she did want to know.

“Tyce,” he said.

“What?” He was driving so fast that the tires were squealing against the asphalt and she could barely hear him. “Is that your last name or your first?”

Or did he have only one name?

“Jackson,” he said.

Her head began to pound. “Which is your first and which is your last?”

“Why?” he asked. “Are we on a first-name basis, Princess?”

“Bella,” she replied. “That’s my name.” Through gritted teeth, she added, “Not Princess.”

His beard moved, so she assumed he was grinning. Then he chuckled again. “Tyce is my first name,” he told her.

“Tyce Jackson,” she murmured.

“You’ve never heard it before,” he said, as if he thought she was trying to place him. “Your path and mine have never crossed, Princess. And they wouldn’t have crossed now if not for Luther Mills.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs with fear. “He’s the man threatening my father about—”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Daddy’s not in danger. You are. Luther is using you to threaten your father.”

She knew that. Her father didn’t care about himself. Threatening his life wouldn’t affect him at all. But threatening hers...

“But he’s in jail awaiting trial,” she said. “Surely he can’t hurt anyone from there. He’s just some low-level drug dealer—”

“He’s the biggest drug dealer in River City,” Tyce interjected. “So not ‘low level,’ just lowlife. He might be the biggest drug dealer in the state, as well.”

“You sound almost impressed.”

He laughed but there was no amusement in his deep voice this time. “Nothing Luther Mills does impresses me,” he assured her. “It doesn’t even surprise me anymore.”

Bella wished she could say the same, but everything about this situation had surprised her, though nothing and no one more than Tyce Jackson.

He looked across the console at her. “Luther Mills is capable of anything.”

His topaz eyes were so filled with warning that she shivered.

He shifted against his seat belt and tried shrugging off his jacket again. “You’re cold. Take my coat. You won’t get my cooties from it.”

“I’m not cold,” she said. “I’m scared.”

“If you’re scared of Mills’s crew hurting you, you don’t need to be,” Tyce continued. “It’s my job to protect you from them.”

Even though he was her bodyguard, Bella didn’t feel particularly safe with him. Not that she doubted he could protect her but because nobody had ever unsettled her like he did.

She hated that he called her “Princess.” And that he was so big and formidable, which was probably good for scaring off the drug dealer’s minions.

But what about her?

Who would protect her from Tyce Jackson?

Bradford Holmes had never regretted all the years he’d spent on the bench presiding over criminal trials—until now. His hand shook as he dropped the photograph onto the table in the conference room of the Payne Protection Agency.

Chief Lynch looked down at the picture and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Your Honor.”

The judge didn’t feel very damn honorable right now—not after having put his daughter in danger. While he knew it wasn’t his fault she was being threatened—that was all Luther Mills—he wasn’t proud of the way he’d handled it. Despite his efforts, he obviously hadn’t made it clear to her how much danger she was in. When she’d called him moments ago, from Tyce Jackson’s cell phone, she hadn’t understood why she’d had to leave the fund-raising event she’d spent months planning.

Isabella was so much like her late mother—in appearance with her blond hair and green eyes and in personality with her sweetness and generosity—that his heart ached whenever he saw her. And it positively broke whenever he had to upset her. She’d already been through too much when she’d lost her mother five years ago.

He’d lost his wife then, too. But Elizabeth had been more than his wife. She’d been his best friend. His soulmate. If not for Bella, he might not have been able to go on without Elizabeth.

And if he lost Bella...

He wasn’t sure that he could live in a world without her. But that was what the candid photograph of her appeared to be threatening.

“How did you get this?” the chief asked. “Did someone deliver it to you? To your house or to your office? Was there an envelope?”

The judge snorted. “You think I got it postmarked from jail? No such luck.”

Luther Mills was smarter than that. But as the judge for his upcoming trial, Bradford had to remain impartial. He couldn’t say that it was Mills behind the threat. He had no proof.

Even the chief had no proof—just suspicions that Luther Mills was behind the threats against everyone involved in his upcoming trial. The chief had also confided that he suspected someone within his department was helping Mills. And someone within the district attorney’s office, too.

Maybe that was how Bradford had received the photograph. Maybe someone had slipped it onto his desk during a meeting in chambers. Or mixed it in with correspondence regarding another trial.

“It showed up at my office,” Bradford told the chief. He couldn’t look at it anymore.

Bella had probably looked beautiful—as she always did—even though she’d obviously been unaware that the picture was being taken. It was through the window of her apartment, so whoever was watching her knew where she lived. That was especially horrifying because of what had been done to the photo—of the slashes that cut across Bella’s face and her throat and her body...

Nothing had been written on the picture. But Bradford had received the message loud and clear anyway. His daughter was in danger.

Chapter 3

Maybe the ballroom music had been louder than she’d realized—because Bella had this buzzing noise in her ears, making it impossible for her to hear what anyone was saying. She looked from face to face of the people gathered around the table. She could see their lips moving as they spoke, but she couldn’t pick up any words. Not even when her father had rushed up to her when she and Tyce Jackson had first entered the conference room.

She’d seen the concern on his face, had returned his hug, but she hadn’t heard his explanation, his apology. She’d just seen it in his eyes. “It’s not your fault, Daddy,” she’d whispered in his ear.

It was Luther Mills’s fault. Tyce had told her that he might be the biggest drug dealer in Michigan. How powerful did that make him? Could he get to anyone?

Maybe that buzzing had started because of the photograph she’d seen when she and Tyce had taken their seats. The picture had been of her, but she’d had trouble even recognizing herself with the slashes across her face, across her body.

Somebody had sent that to her father. Somebody was threatening to hurt her. She really was in danger.

And so was everyone in the conference room. Nobody was happy about it. Arguments broke out around the table. While she couldn’t hear the words, she saw the flushed faces. People jumped up from the table, left the room.

It was only when the chief returned, after leaving the room for a while with a few other people who hadn’t returned, and the door closed behind him, that the buzzing stopped. He must have known about the arguments, even during his brief absence, because his voice was sharp and his words were obviously an order he was issuing when he said, “Everyone is going to have a bodyguard. No matter who they are, until this trial is over and Luther Mills is sentenced to life behind bars.”

Beneath the table, her father squeezed her hand before he shook his head and said, “I can’t be party to this conversation.”

“You didn’t need to be here,” the chief told him. “Your daughter is the one being threatened.”

Bella shivered as she glanced at the table. But the photograph was gone. The chief had slid it into an envelope earlier. For evidence?

“She wouldn’t leave her damn party until her father told her she had to,” Tyce grumbled through his bushy beard.

Heat rushed to Bella’s face over how he made her sound like an idiot. She hadn’t realized how dangerous this man was—this man her father was prosecuting. She could not lose her father, too.

“We are not going to stop living our lives just because of these threats,” a red-haired woman told the chief.

Bella didn’t know who she was. With that buzzing in her head, she’d missed all the introductions—if any had been made. Maybe everyone else knew everyone else. She was the outsider here—the one who had nothing directly to do with this trial or this case.

“So how do we explain having bodyguards?” the redhead asked. “How is the rest of the department going to feel that you didn’t trust our fellow officers to protect me or Detective Dubridge or even Ms. Gerber?”

Bella shivered again. The chief of police didn’t even trust the officers within his department. Luther Mills had gotten to some of them. She cast a sideways glance at Tyce Jackson. If Luther Mills could get to someone in the police department, couldn’t he get to a bodyguard, as well?

“You told your father that I’m your boyfriend,” the man next to the redhead shared. “Maybe we just tell everyone else the same damn thing.”

Another man, farther down the table, chuckled. “That’ll work for her. Everybody in the department knows she had a crush on Hart Fisher even back when he was married. But that won’t work for everyone else.”

Bella nodded in agreement and murmured, “I should say not...” Nobody would believe that she was dating a man like Tyce Jackson, especially when most people thought she and Michael were all but engaged because they’d known each other so long. She would be better off marrying someone like Michael, someone who cared about more than her money. Guys like Tyce Jackson only came after her for her inheritance—at least the ones she’d met in high school and college had.

“You’re not my type, either,” Tyce assured her, his voice so deep it was just a rumble.

“And chauvinist pig is certainly not mine,” another blond woman remarked.

The chief groaned. Then, his voice rising with frustration, he yelled, “You’re all supposed to be professionals here. Figure it out!”

“Professional partyer maybe,” Tyce remarked with a disparaging glance at Bella.

She glared at him before jumping up from the table. She’d had enough. This was ridiculous. She obviously wasn’t the only one who thought so as other people filed out of the conference room, too.

Her father caught her arm and stopped her just inside the door. “Bella—”

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she told him. She especially did not need Tyce Jackson. “That man—that drug dealer—is just trying to scare you.”

“That man doesn’t make idle threats,” her father said. “You saw that photograph...” Regret flashed in his blue eyes. He obviously hadn’t wanted her to see it. “You know you’re in danger. You have to have a bodyguard.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t.”

“So you’re willing to go away, then?” he asked. “Into a safe house somewhere far from River City?”

She gasped. Her father was trying to send her away? She’d dropped out of college five years ago because it had been too hard to be away from him—especially after losing her mother. She’d worried that something would happen to him without Mom and her looking over him. While she had her own apartment, she saw him every day—stopping by his house or his office.

“I can’t,” she said. “You know I can’t.” She’d also assumed her mother’s responsibilities as chairperson for several committees and charities. She could not shirk those responsibilities.

“Then you’ll have a bodyguard.”

She opened her mouth but her father must have known what she was going to say because he continued. “You’ll have Tyce Jackson. He’s good.”

He was big. She wasn’t sure he was good. She glanced across the reception area to where he’d pulled aside the chief for a private and seemingly heated conversation. “I’m not going to pretend he’s anything other than my bodyguard.”

“You have to,” he insisted. “The chief explained that it’s best to not tip off the moles in his department and the district attorney’s office. It’ll make it harder for him to catch them and whoever is making these threats—”

“Whoever?”

“We have no hard evidence, just circumstantial,” he said. “So, whoever is making these threats should not know that we’re onto them. You need to pretend that Tyce is your boyfriend.”

“But I have a boyfriend.”

Her father shook his head. “You and Michael aren’t serious, and you know why. Michael Leach will only ever be a boy. He will never grow up and become a man.”

Michael was a couple of years older than her—in age. In maturity, her father was probably right. At least Michael had his own money, though, so he wasn’t after hers. She and Michael had known each other so long that Bella owed him an explanation before she started parading around with a new man. She glanced at Tyce Jackson again.

Not that she wanted to parade him around. At the moment all she wanted to do was run.

“The chief is talking to Jackson now,” the judge said. “He will make sure he acts accordingly to his new role.”

“New role?” As a bodyguard? Or as her boyfriend? “What are you talking about?”

He shook his head and Bella noticed the paleness of his face. He was exhausted. So she didn’t press him for more information. She squeezed his arm and said, “Go home, Daddy. Get some rest.”

“You’ll go along with having a bodyguard?” he asked. “I won’t be able to rest unless I know you’re protected.”

She sighed and nodded. She would go along with it—once she settled a couple of things first. And she couldn’t do that in front of Tyce Jackson. She had to get away from him—away from the Payne Protection Agency.

“There’s my girl,” her father said as he kissed her forehead.

Bella held tightly to his arm before he pulled away. “Did a car and driver bring you here?”

He shook his head. “No. I drove myself.”

“Since I have to have a bodyguard,” she said, “I want you to have one, too.” She glanced at all the people in the reception area and just outside the doors of the building. “Have one of these extra bodyguards take you home.”

“Bella, it’s not necessary. I have a police car following me already.”

“That isn’t safe—if there truly is a leak in the River City PD. You need a bodyguard, too,” she implored. “It’s late. And you’re tired. Please...”

“All right,” he agreed with a sigh. “Parker Payne has bodyguards from his brothers’ teams outside. I’ll have one of them take me home and stay with me.” He hugged her.

She kissed his cheek before releasing him. When she pulled away from him, she closed her fingers over the keys she’d lifted from his coat pocket. She was about to find out just how good a bodyguard Tyce Jackson was.

As her father headed toward the door, the chief broke away from his conversation with Tyce to talk to him. And Tyce turned to her.

“Daddy get through to you?” he asked.

She forced a smile and nodded. Then she asked, “Where is the powder room?”

He chuckled and gestured toward a hall. “Don’t take long powdering your nose, Princess. We need to leave soon.”

She needed to leave now. Before he noticed she’d slipped away from him. After seeing that photo, she knew she was in danger, so she would be extra careful. From what she had heard of the meeting, though, it seemed as though Luther Mills was focused on getting rid of the eyewitness, Rosie Mendez, first. So Bella would be safe for a little while, and if Tyce was any good, he’d find her easily enough. Just hopefully not before she handled something that she needed to handle privately.

“Where is she going?” Chief Woodrow Lynch asked as he watched the judge’s daughter walk away from her bodyguard. “Why aren’t you with her?”

“I’m not going to hold her purse while she uses the bathroom,” Tyce Jackson replied.

Jackson had clearly never been in love, the chief realized, but then he didn’t have to love Bella Holmes. He just had to protect her. “What did I just tell you?”

“That I can’t get out of being her bodyguard and I need to treat her with respect,” he replied with a sigh of frustrated resignation. “Did you tell Spencer to do the same with Keeli?”

During the meeting Detective Spencer Dubridge had disparaged another former vice cop, Keeli Abbott, by calling her Bodyguard Barbie. That was no better than Princess.

“Yeah, I need to talk to him, too,” the chief admitted with a weary sigh. “Why the hell is everybody fighting having a bodyguard? Everyone associated with this trial has to know how damn dangerous Mills is.”

Tyce’s brow furrowed as he stared down the hallway. “Everybody but the princess. She doesn’t know. She has no association with Luther Mills.” She had no idea how dangerous he was—even in jail.

“She saw that photo,” the chief reminded him as a twinge of regret struck his heart. He should have slid it into that evidence envelope sooner. She hadn’t needed to see that; it had frightened her.

The chief had daughters of his own—ones he’d raised and ones he loved now that they had come into his life since his marriage to Penny Payne. He knew how upset Judge Holmes had to be—to know that his job had put his daughter in danger. Just before the judge had left, Woodrow had assured him that the Payne Protection Agency would keep his child safe.

“She saw the photo,” Tyce said. “But I’m not sure she took it seriously. I’m not sure she takes anything seriously.”

Officers often had to make snap judgments on the job to quickly assess a threat. But Bella Holmes was not a threat to Tyce. Why was he judging her so harshly?

Before the chief could ask him any questions, though, the bodyguard murmured, “I better check on her...” and headed down the hall in the direction she’d gone.

Woodrow was not about to stop him from doing his job. Tyce clearly wasn’t excited that part of the job entailed him pretending to be her boyfriend. To sell that, the big, burly bodyguard might have to hold Bella Holmes’s tiny, sequined clutch.

Woodrow chuckled at the image. He had wondered about the matchups Parker had made between his bodyguards and the persons, or principals, they were protecting. But from his wife, who was Parker Payne’s mother, Woodrow had learned to trust the Payne family instincts. And nobody knew everyone involved better than Parker Payne did. Since he trusted Tyce to be able to protect the judge’s daughter, Woodrow would, too.

A frisson of unease skittered along Tyce’s spine as he started down the hallway. Or maybe that was just the chief’s stare boring into him. He’d pissed off the chief when he’d made those comments about the princess. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself. She was such a damn snob that he just had to tease her a little. Or maybe a lot...

He glanced back. The chief wasn’t looking at him. So that frisson of unease had nothing to do with him. And everything to do with Bella Holmes.

Had she really had to powder her nose? It had looked ridiculously perfect, like everything else about her. But maybe “powder” to her meant what it had when Tyce was undercover. Maybe she wasn’t the perfect little princess her father thought she was.

He knocked on the bathroom door and it popped open from the force of his blow. It was empty. Not even a drop of water in the sink. Nobody had used it recently.

Where the hell had she gone?

He looked around the hall and noticed the door at the end of it. The door opened onto the alley behind the building. And he groaned.

She’d taken off.

Damn it!

He pushed open the door and headed out into the night. He had to find her—before anyone realized he’d lost her. And before any of Luther Mills’s crew found her.

He’d had that feeling back at the ballroom, and the photograph of her at her apartment had proved it. Somebody was watching her.

Maybe just waiting for her to be alone so that she could be hurt, just like that photo had showed.

Chapter 4

“Did Camille explain why I had to leave?” Bella asked as Michael paced across the polished hardwood floor of her living room. She’d meant to text him, but she hadn’t had time. And she’d forgotten because Tyce Jackson had distracted her.

Michael shook his head, but his blond hair was so short and gelled that not a single strand moved with the gesture. “No. I didn’t see Camille. But I saw you leave with that guy,” he said. “I didn’t know you were into that...”

Her face flushed. “Into what?” What the hell did he think Tyce was?

“All I’ve ever seen you do is drink,” he continued. “And that’s usually just one glass of wine.”

“Yes.” While she wasn’t sure where he was going with this, it was true that wine was all she ever drank. Any more than one glass affected her, and tonight of all nights she’d needed all her faculties about her. She certainly hadn’t wanted to be the center of a scene like the one Tyce had caused in the Grand Plaza ballroom.

“But there’s only one reason why Jax would’ve been at the hotel.” Michael stopped pacing to stare at her. Since she’d slipped off her heels, they were the same height. In her heels, she’d been taller.

She knew Michael hated it when she wore heels. But her gown had been too long for her to forego them. And she’d still nearly tripped over it—in her haste to get away from Tyce Jackson.

Tyce had to know by now that she wasn’t in the Payne Protection Agency restroom. How furious was he? Her lips almost curved into a smile, but she forced herself to focus on Michael. What was he talking about?

“Jax?” she asked, repeating the strange name he’d uttered.

“The dealer,” he said as if he expected her to know. “I’ve bought from him myself. It’s been a while, though. I thought he got arrested and sent to prison. Or killed...” He shrugged as if it was of no consequence to him, as if a human life didn’t matter.

She wasn’t sure what really mattered to Michael, though. He was a trust fund baby—like she was. He lived off that money without doing anything to earn any of his own—which wasn’t all that different from how she lived.

Maybe Tyce had been right to call her a princess. But she wasn’t some pampered little girl who did nothing to take care of herself or others. She tried to contribute to society—like her mother had contributed. Her mother had done so much good, had raised money for so many causes, but there hadn’t been enough money to save her from the brain aneurysm that had taken her life.

With a shaky sigh, Bella pushed aside those maudlin thoughts to focus on the man she thought she knew. She and Michael had practically grown up together. His father was a high-profile lawyer who’d attended law school with her father. Their mothers had been in the same sorority, and the couples had maintained a close friendship throughout the years. Despite that friendship, her father had never been a fan of his godson.

“What did you buy from him?” she asked.

“A little X, some Oxy,” he said. “We could have been doing those things together, Bella.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her up against him.

She tensed, and not like she had when Tyce Jackson had pulled her close to him. Michael suddenly felt more like a stranger to her than even Tyce had. Had she ever really known Michael Leach?

“How much do you owe him?” he asked. He was looking at her like he’d never seen her before, either. But for some reason, he seemed to like what he was seeing now more than he had before. “It must be a lot for him to drag you out of there like he did.”

“Owe him?”

“I’ve gotten into him myself,” Michael admitted ruefully. “Jax won’t let you fall that far behind, though. ’Course, he has to answer to Luther Mills if he’s short. That’s why I figured he was dead, like his phone was when I tried calling him up.”

Bella’s head began to pound. She had no idea what the hell Michael was talking about and, apparently, she’d had no idea who he really was.

“Jax?” Was he talking about Tyce? He had to be, since that was the guy with whom she’d left the hotel.

“Yeah, he works for Luther Mills. But then, pretty much everybody does.”

That didn’t make sense. Tyce Jackson was a bodyguard, not a drug dealer. But Michael seemed so certain...

She needed to talk to her father. Or the chief of police. Or the head of the Payne Protection Agency. She had to let them know what she’d learned. But first she had to get rid of Michael.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know any Jax.”

“I could have sworn that was him,” Michael mused, his brow furrowing.

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t associate with a drug dealer. And I didn’t realize that you would, either.”

“Bella—”

“I asked you to meet me here because I thought it was time we ended this casual arrangement we’ve had,” she said. “It never felt right to make it anything more. For either of us.” And now she had the answer that had eluded her all the years they’d known each other—because she hadn’t really known him. Nor had he known her.

“Bella, if this is about the drugs, they’re just recreational for me,” he assured her. “I’m not an addict or anything.”

“I hope you’re not,” she said. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” That was one of the reasons she’d decided to break things off with him tonight. Not just so that her bodyguard could pretend to be her boyfriend but so that her childhood friend wasn’t caught in the cross fire of someone trying to hurt her.

“So you care about me,” Michael said. “I care about you. We are right for each other.”

She shook her head. “I don’t love you. And you don’t love me.”

“Bella—”

She pressed her palm against his chest to push him back like she had Tyce Jackson. She didn’t feel the mass of muscles like she had with Tyce. Just the frantic beating of Michael’s heart.

He really didn’t want to end their relationship. She couldn’t imagine why not. They’d never been in love. But maybe it was because he didn’t want to disappoint his parents. Again. If they knew about his drug use...

She sighed. “Please go.”

He cursed. But he finally turned around and walked out of the apartment.

Bella shivered as she realized how alone she was. She glanced at the windows. The glass was dark. She couldn’t see anything outside. But someone had seen in—had been watching her, had photographed her. Usually she left the blinds open in the living room because she liked the light from the tall windows to brighten the room with its dark wood floor and trim. Even the coffered ceiling had dark beams. And the walls were a deep gray. She’d covered her couch with a white slipcover and a couple of chairs with a print on a white background to brighten the space.

She would have to add more lamps maybe—because she needed to close those blinds. She started across the room toward the windows when a knock rattled the door in the jamb. Michael had only been gone a few moments. He must have decided to return to try to change her mind.

His parents wouldn’t be pleased if they broke up. Her father, though, would be relieved and happy.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” she warned him before she even reached for the knob.

Michael wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted. And for some reason, maybe because he thought she used drugs, too, he thought he wanted her now.

When she opened the door, it wasn’t Michael returning to plead his case for staying together. It was Tyce staring down at her, his strange topaz eyes full of fury.

She tried to slam the door shut, but it bounced off his big boot as he forced his way into her apartment. She hoped he didn’t really work for Luther Mills because he looked mad enough to kill her.

Tyce dropped his duffel bag inside the door and kicked it shut. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he asked. “You know you’ve got to have a bodyguard. Why’d you ditch me?”

Not that he couldn’t guess. He’d arrived some time ago, but it hadn’t been easy for him to get past the security at her door. He’d had to call her father and have him vouch for him. He hadn’t dared have the front desk call Bella; he’d figured she wouldn’t say anything good about him. After riding up in the fancy elevator to her floor and approaching her door, he’d heard the rumble of voices inside the apartment. So he’d waited...and from the shadows of the wide hallway, he’d watched the man leave.

The young guy had looked vaguely familiar to Tyce but probably just because he’d seen him in the ballroom earlier. Was this the Michael she’d asked her assistant to apologize to for her?

Instead of answering, Bella just glared at him. She was beautiful, but beauty alone didn’t impress him after he’d learned—painfully—how shallow that beauty could be. Older and wiser now, he liked women like his former vice cop coworker and current fellow bodyguard, Keeli Abbott. Strong, smart, independent women...

But he hadn’t dated anyone for a while. Working undercover had made it impossible for him to form attachments or have relationships, so he’d shut down his emotions. For so long that he’d forgotten how to feel...

Maybe that was why he reacted to Bella’s face and figure and even the snobby way she looked at him.

He preferred that to the way she’d looked at him when she’d opened that door, though. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

“You,” she replied.

“Didn’t you listen to a word anyone said in that meeting?”

Her face, which had been pale moments ago, flushed nearly as dark a red as her lipstick, and he realized she hadn’t been listening. She’d probably been thinking about that damn party or meeting up with the boy who had just left.

He sighed and picked up his duffel from where he’d dropped it just inside the door.

“What’s that for?” she asked.

“I’m staying the night and every damn night until the trial’s over.” He glanced at the couch. It was all slipcovered and fancy but at least it was long. His legs would only hang off it a little.

“Why do you want to stay here?” she asked.

“I don’t want to,” he corrected her. “I have to because my boss ordered me to.”

“Which boss?” she asked.

Apparently she hadn’t been paying any attention at all during that meeting. Or she was just too much of an airhead to realize how protection duty worked. “Parker Payne.”

She shook her head. “Not that boss.”

Was she talking about the chief? Tyce had never worked under Woodrow Lynch before. He had already left River City PD before the former FBI Bureau chief had accepted the top cop position.

“Parker is my only boss,” he assured her. “I don’t work for anyone else.”

“You used to,” she said.

Somehow he didn’t think she was talking about River City PD. What was wrong with her? He hadn’t noticed a glass in her hand when he’d showed up at the Grand Plaza ballroom. But she might have had a few drinks before he’d arrived.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with a sigh, “so you might as well tell me.”

“I was told you worked for Luther Mills.”

He sucked in a breath like she’d sucker punched him. “What the hell are you...?” Then he realized from where he’d recognized the little friend he’d seen leaving her apartment. And he groaned.

“You didn’t think I would find out that you used to deal drugs?”

He shook his head. “I guess I should have realized a party girl like you would know what I’d done.”

“So you have dealt drugs for Luther Mills,” she said. “Did he send you after me? Are you the one who took that photo my father received?”

“Princess, I wouldn’t waste my time taking pictures.” He stepped closer.

She quickly jumped back, but the foyer wall was behind her. And he was against her front. “Wh-what would you do?” she stammered, her green eyes wide again—with fear.

He wanted to do something to her, but it wasn’t to hurt her. He didn’t want to scare her, either, so he forced himself to step back. “I am your bodyguard,” he said. “It’s my job to protect you.”

“B-but what about—”

“The dealing?” That tight knot in his gut came back—the one he had whenever he thought of his years with the vice unit. “I was undercover. Before I became a bodyguard, I was a vice cop. I wasn’t working for Luther Mills. I was trying to bring him down.” Even before he’d become a cop, he’d worked as an informant for River City PD.

“Couldn’t you testify against him—that he was your boss?” she asked.

Tyce shook his head. “He’s too smart. He ran his organization with a lot of middlemen. That’s who I ‘worked for’ and I did bring down a few of them. They wouldn’t give up Mills, though. So your father sentenced them.”

“That’s how you know my father.”

He nodded. Tyce had always liked the judge. He appreciated that the old man was a hard-ass when it came to drugs and especially to murder. That was, no doubt, why Luther had threatened his daughter. Bella was the killer’s only hope for getting to the judge.

Tyce just had to make sure that Bella didn’t get to him. He was her bodyguard.

Just her bodyguard...

Luther couldn’t sleep and it wasn’t just because of the jailhouse mattress being too thin and uncomfortable. He had an odd feeling.

First, Clint Quarters had showed up just as he was about to have the eyewitness taken out. And Wendy Thompson, the evidence tech, seemed to have disappeared from her place, as well. And then the spy he had close to the judge’s daughter had reported some guy crashing her latest party...

A guy who hadn’t looked like he belonged at some fancy ball, obviously. He hadn’t looked like a cop, either—according to the spy.

But cops didn’t always look like cops. They didn’t always act like them, either—which was good for Luther since he’d been able to buy quite a few of them.

Then again, there had been the cops he hadn’t been able to buy or threaten. They were, or had been, vice cops with River City PD—like Clint Quarters. After Luther had murdered his little informant, Quarters had quit. He hadn’t been the one who’d arrested him for Javier Mendez’s murder, though. Spencer Dubridge had done that, and Luther intended to deal with him.

Hell, he intended to deal with all of them—eventually.

First, he had to get these damn charges tossed out. He’d intended to start with eliminating the eyewitness, then the evidence...

And if that didn’t work, he had the spy who could help him get to the judge’s daughter whenever he wanted. But who else had gotten to her at that ball?

Was it a cop who didn’t look like a cop? Or somebody who’d once been a cop?

Luther didn’t really care who it was. If the guy got in his way, he’d wind up dead.

Chapter 5

Some bodyguard he’d turned out to be...

He was so sound asleep that he looked dead to Bella. Maybe trying to fit on the too small couch had killed him. His legs dangled over the arm of it. She had a guest room with a queen bed, but she’d been so angry with him barging into her apartment that she hadn’t offered it to him. She felt a twinge of regret now.

He couldn’t have been comfortable last night. So how was he sleeping?

She stepped closer to the couch and stared down at him, checking to see if his massive chest rose and fell with any breaths. He’d taken off his jacket. And his shirt...

Only soft-looking black hair covered the sculpted muscles. Her breath stopped in her throat, where her pulse pounded madly. She hadn’t even given him a blanket last night. Wasn’t he cold? She had been; that was why she’d wrapped a warm robe around her. It suddenly felt too warm now as heat rushed over her.

Bella couldn’t tell if his chest was moving, but hers was, as she had to almost pant for air after holding her breath for so long.

How could he sleep so soundly? Had he passed out from something? Alcohol? The drugs he used to sell?

She hadn’t felt very safe the night before, hadn’t been able to sleep very well even with her bedroom door locked. She hadn’t been worried about Luther Mills. She’d been worried about Tyce Jackson.

He was so big—with such an aura of danger around him. Sure, he was supposed to protect her, but... She shivered again despite the heat suffusing her. He had not moved yet.

“So much for protecting me...” she murmured as she started around the couch toward the kitchen.

She didn’t make it past him before a hand shot out and jerked her down—on top of him. A small scream of alarm slipped through her lips before his hand covered her mouth. To catch herself, she’d automatically reached out, so her hands were pressed against his chest. The hair dusting his muscles was as soft as it looked, tickling her palms, while the skin was warm and smooth. His heart pounded hard and fast beneath one palm. She straightened her arms, trying to push herself up, but as she moved, her hips shifted against him and she felt his reaction to her closeness.

A gasp slipped out against his hand. He moved it from her mouth—slowly, though, so that his palm brushed across her lips. Her heart began to pound even faster.

She’d been smart to lock her bedroom door. But now she didn’t know if she’d done it to keep him out or herself inside. She couldn’t actually be attracted to him, though. With his bushy beard and long hair, she could barely see his face—just his light gold, heavily lashed eyes staring up at her.

No. Tyce Jackson was not her type at all. He was too big. Too uncouth.

Too exciting.

Tyce was tempted to show Bella Holmes just how awake he was and how much he wanted her. But he had a feeling she already knew, especially when she squirmed against him again. His body couldn’t help reacting to the closeness of hers. She was so soft, so warm...

She was also damn beautiful, even more so than she’d been the night before. Her red lipstick was gone, but her lips were full and a deep, natural pink. Her cheekbones needed no blush to highlight their sharpness. Her eyes...the green was so bright, the lashes so naturally thick and dark. And her hair hung down around her shoulders like a pale gold silk curtain. Strands of it brushed across his hand and his chest. It was even longer than he’d realized, and he’d never felt anything so soft against his skin.

“I—I thought you were sleeping,” she murmured.

He shook his head. He hadn’t been able to sleep, and not just because she was so damn close and so beautiful, but because of that photograph. It had been taken through her apartment window. Someone was watching her for Luther.

“Your eyes were closed.”

He’d closed them when he’d heard her bedroom door creak open; he’d been playing with her, to see what she’d do.

She’d watched him for a while. Had she liked what she’d seen?

She squirmed against him again, pushing herself off his chest. She slid onto the floor before scrambling to her feet. Apparently she hadn’t liked what she’d seen, or felt, enough to stay on top of him.

He swallowed a groan. Yeah, this assignment—and Bella Holmes—was going to be a pain in his ass.

“Well, you need to get up,” she said.

He was—his body aching with the need for release. But he was damn well not going to find that with her. He wouldn’t cross the line with a client, especially the judge’s daughter. Even though he didn’t have much respect for the princess, he respected Judge Holmes.

“I have a busy schedule today.”

He closed his eyes again. “Isn’t it a little early for parties?” he asked.

“I have a luncheon I need to attend as well as following up on last night’s fund-raiser.”

He groaned.

“Then there’s another event tonight...”

He groaned louder.

“This isn’t going to work,” she said.

He couldn’t agree more. “No. You need to skip all the parties for a while and go away somewhere.”

“I can’t,” she said.

“Why not?” he asked. “It’s not like you have a job like everybody else Luther Mills is threatening.”

She flinched, her full lips drawing together in a tight line.

He’d offended her. But that was all he’d done since they met. Hell, his appearance alone seemed to offend her.

“I have obligations,” she said. “I have events I must attend.”

“Or the world will end?” he asked.

“My world,” she said. “This is my world. And I’m not going to stop living because of some threats. The trial hasn’t even started yet.”

She was right. Luther would probably wait to act on his threats against her until it mattered most—during the trial. That was when he would need the judge to rule on the evidence and eyewitness’s testimony.

“Aren’t you up for the job?” she asked, obviously goading him now.

“As your bodyguard or your boyfriend?” he asked. Since he’d caught her staring at him, he was actually up to both jobs, the tension still gripping his body.

“You’re only acting like my boyfriend,” she said as if he needed the clarification. “But you’re going to have to do something to make that believable.”

He nodded in agreement and rose from the couch.

While he’d taken off his shirt, he’d left on his jeans. He’d just unbuttoned the button. They hung low on his hips and her gaze dropped there, to where his erection strained against the fly. Her eyes widened even more.

He chuckled.

And her face flushed. She met his gaze with her eyes narrowed into a glare now.

“Yeah,” he said. “You need to stop looking at me like you hate my guts. You need to stop cringing when I touch you.”

“You need to stop calling me ‘Princess’ and treating me like I’m the snob,” she told him.

He grimaced, not certain he could stop himself from teasing her. He loved her reaction too much.

“And there’s one other thing,” she said.

He had an idea, too. She needed to get used to him touching her, maybe even kissing her...so that they actually acted like boyfriend and girlfriend.

Before he could offer to make such a sacrifice, she said, “You need to get a haircut and shave.”

“What?” His hand went protectively to his beard. He didn’t remember the last time he’d shaved. It had gotten quite long.

“I can’t even see your face,” she said.

That was why he liked it; after so many years undercover, he’d gotten used to hiding his face, his feelings, his...

“And nobody I know has a beard,” she added.

He couldn’t remember if he’d seen any on the men in that ballroom last night. The guy he’d seen leaving her apartment certainly hadn’t had one—but then he probably wasn’t even able to grow one.

“And that’s not all we need to change for anyone to actually believe that you’re my boyfriend,” she continued.

He wasn’t going to hold his breath hoping she’d suggest his idea of getting used to intimacy with each other. She obviously wasn’t worried about anything deeper than the surface, just like those other women he’d known.

“You need new clothes,” she continued, confirming his suspicion.

“You really are a princess,” he said. “Too good to be seen with someone like me.”

Totally unrepentant, she nodded. “You’re right. I don’t want to be seen with someone easily recognizable as a drug dealer.”

“By your boyfriend,” he reminded her.

She flinched. “Michael is not my boyfriend any longer. I broke up with him last night. That’s why I left the Payne Protection Agency. I wanted to talk to him alone.”

Was talking all they’d done? Tyce felt some strange tightening in his stomach muscles and he wasn’t sure what it was. Jealousy?

He snorted. He wasn’t jealous of the princess. Sure, he was physically attracted to her. She was gorgeous. He really would have to be dead not to notice her face or her body. But she was also high maintenance as hell, like those other women he’d dated, and he wanted no part of that again. Michael hadn’t seemed particularly upset when he’d left, either. He was probably relieved. “He took it well.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Were you listening outside the door?”

“I’m your bodyguard, Princess. I’m going to watch and listen to everything you do and say.”

She shivered despite her bulky velour robe. But even through that robe, he’d felt the heat and softness of her body. She was tall with a fullness to her curves he appreciated. Too much.

He’d just reminded her that he was her bodyguard. Now he had to remind himself—that was all he was. She was just an assignment to him. Nothing more.

Her eyes widened as if she’d had a sudden shock. And, in apparent horror, she murmured, “Michael might not be the only one who recognized you last night.”

He chuckled. “If anyone recognized me from my days in vice, then those fancy friends of yours are some upstanding citizens, Princess. Doesn’t that prove you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover?” Like she had apparently judged him of being unworthy of even pretending to be her boyfriend.

She glared at him. “You know I have a point. We can’t risk anyone else realizing who you are or who you were pretending to be.”

Unfortunately, she did have a point, and she wasn’t the first one who’d suggested he needed to lose his undercover persona. His grandma hated it. Every Sunday when he went home for dinner, she implored him to shave and get a haircut. She’d even gone so far as to pull out his photo from boot camp graduation for the US Marine Corps. So not only would he be making the princess happy, he’d be making Grandma happy, too.

He sighed in resignation and begrudgingly agreed. “Okay.”

Bella smiled—so brightly that he had to squint and not at the sunshine pouring through the tall living room windows. He even had to suck in a breath because he felt like he’d been punched in the gut again. Damn, she was beautiful.

She clapped her hands together. “I’ll call Daddy’s barber.”

He sighed again but with disgust now. “I don’t need your daddy’s barber to work me in today. I’m sure I can get in somewhere else.”

“There’s no time for that,” she said and glanced at the thin gold watch on her delicate wrist. “Not with my luncheon coming up. He’ll come here. And after he’s done with you, we’ll go buy you some clothes.”

Tyce groaned. He’d known he’d gotten the worst of all the assignments for this protection detail. He just hadn’t realized how much it would change him—physically at least. Emotionally, he wasn’t going to let Bella Holmes get to him. Like all his undercover assignments, he had a job to do. Just a job...

Parker picked up the cell phone that vibrated on his desktop. He’d not been this busy since he’d opened his own franchise of the Payne Protection Agency nearly a year ago. Then again, this was an extraordinary assignment. He didn’t have just one person’s safety to worry about but the safety of everyone associated with Luther Mills’s trial.

And also every member of Parker’s team...

Luther had every reason to want to take them out, as well. Not only were they going to stop him from carrying out his nefarious plans, they were going to make sure he was finally prosecuted and punished for his crimes. Crimes for which they had all, Parker included, tried to nail him over the years.

“Tyce,” he greeted his caller.

The guy had slipped away last night before Parker had had the chance to talk to him again. But the chief had assured Parker that he’d made it clear to Tyce how important his assignment—how important Bella Holmes—was.

“Is everything all right?” he asked. He hoped like hell that it was. Thanks to Luther and the enormous crew of people who worked for him, none of the bodyguards was having an easy time with this job. The assistant DA, Jocelyn Gerber, had even gone so far as to accuse him of having a leak within his agency. Because Luther’s crew had found the safe house where Clint had brought the eyewitness, she figured someone on his team was working for the drug dealer. That wasn’t possible, though.

“No,” Tyce answered.

Parker tensed, rising from the chair behind his desk. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything!” Tyce replied.

“Oh, no!” Parker should have had backup for Tyce. But he hadn’t thought he would need it yet—not until after the trial began and the judge had to start ruling.

Clint needed reinforcements with the eyewitness because taking her out was Luther’s top priority, which he’d already proved with the attempts made on Rosie Mendez’s life. Hart also needed backup with the evidence technician because Luther was determined to get rid of all the proof of his guilt before the trial began.

Tyce was the biggest, most fearless bodyguard on Parker’s team. He didn’t sound fearless now, though.

“What do you need?” Parker asked. “How many? Have you called the police?”

“Police?” Tyce repeated.

“Yeah, we really can’t do that,” Parker said with a heavy sigh. “Not until the chief figures out who’s Luther’s mole within the department.” That was where the mole was, not within his agency.

“I don’t need the police,” Tyce said. “I need someone else to take over this damn assignment.”

“What’s wrong?” Parker asked.

“I’m done,” Tyce said. “I agreed to the haircut and the shave. But I’m not playing dress up and tea party with the judge’s little girl.”

Parker dropped back into his chair. “What?” Hart’s young daughter was the one with the tea parties and the dress-up clothes. Judge Holmes’s daughter was somewhere in her twenties.

“She thinks I’m what Spencer calls Keeli—a bodyguard Barbie doll.”

A deep laugh rumbled in Parker’s chest. He needed this—with all the danger. He needed this break from the seriousness of the situation everyone found themselves in—apparently, everyone but Tyce.

Though he did sound scared.

Parker laughed harder.

“I’m glad you’re so damn amused,” Tyce said, his gruff voice even deeper with resentment.

“You’re not a Barbie doll,” Parker assured him. “Since you’re male, you would be a Ken doll. Or maybe a G.I. Joe.” He and his brothers had had those growing up. His mother had thought that was why his brother Cooper had decided to become a Marine. But their sister had played with the G.I. Joes more than they had.

Tyce cursed him. “This isn’t funny!”

“Yeah, it really is,” Parker said. “You’re just going to have to suck it up and deal with her. Everybody else is busy.”

“Everything okay?” Tyce anxiously asked. “Is everybody okay?”

Tyce Jackson acted all tough and independent, but just like he was the biggest guy on Parker’s team, he had the biggest heart, as well. He fought so hard to hide it to protect himself. But Parker had been there when Tyce had had his heart broken.

“Yeah,” Parker said. “Everybody’s fine.” For now. But Clint and Rosie had already had too many close calls. How the hell had Luther known where the safe house was? While they’d survived the latest attack, Luther Mills wasn’t about to give up. And because of that everybody was in danger.

And though it might not be as immediate as the eyewitness and the evidence tech, the judge’s daughter was in danger, too. The photograph her father had received was proof of the threat. Luther had someone watching her, waiting until he needed her.

“You need to do whatever you have to in order to stick close to her,” Parker advised his employee.

Tyce groaned. “I know. I’m trying, but there’s already been bloodshed.”

“What!” Parker jumped out of his chair again. “Whose? Who’s hurt?”

“Damn barber of her father’s nearly cut my throat,” Tyce grumbled.

Parker heard a giggle in the background. Bella Holmes was as amused as he was. That was good. When she’d seen that photograph of herself the night before, she’d looked terrified. Maybe she’d realized that Tyce would keep her safe.

But now Parker wondered who would protect Tyce from Bella Holmes?

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