She thinks it doesn’t affect me, but it does. I’m ripped apart, cold in ways I’ve never been cold before. I stay on the spot, curling my toes in my boots, afraid if I move I’ll do something I shouldn’t. Like grab her and ravenously kiss away that disappointment, replacing all the coldness with wicked heat.
Obviously annoyed with me and done with the conversation, she goes to walk by me. Without considering the consequences, I reach out and grasp her bare arm. Her soft gasp is a jolt straight to my cock.
“Whatever you do, do not trust anyone right now,” I tell her.
She pauses, eyes searching mine. “Why do you look so worried, Blackwood? The tabloids have you running scared?”
Her concern touches a place in my chest I won’t allow her to go. “It’s trouble that I can handle.” The warmth of her flesh heats my palm, all too inviting. Fighting against myself, I slowly release her arm. “But the situation with the tabloids is a concern, especially considering whatever reason they’ve brought you into this alongside me.” Truly that concerns me most of all. We never had a relationship besides my working for her father. My instincts are screaming at me that there’s meaning behind that, and I need to—and will—dig deeper on this. “Please be careful.”
“Don’t worry about me, Blackwood,” she says gently, and her nostrils flare, as if she’s consumed by the overwhelming need to draw in my scent as much as I am hers. “I’ll be safe. Promise.”
The last thing I see is her smile before she vanishes through the doorway. The sassiness in that smile tests my resolve to remain professional. I flex my fingers, feeling my skin tingle, fighting against the desire to bring her back into my arms so I can finally curb my hunger for her.
Frustrated and enduring a raging hard-on, I open the magazine again and examine the photograph of her. She’s a beauty in bondage, and I ache to see her up close and personal this way. But I’m crippled all the same, unable to stop staring at the way the man’s hands are holding her arms tight.
She’s not yours to claim echoes through me.
That’s when I realize I might have a greater danger than the tabloids.
Her.
Chapter 2
Ryder
Later that Thursday night, the sense of entitlement is practically wafting off the partygoers as I make my way down the hallway of the senator’s mansion. Hours have passed since I saw Hadley, but I can’t get her off my mind. That smile. Those eyes. She’s haunting me, and my aching cock is paying the hefty price.
I adjust the wired security earpiece in my ear, as Lee, a Blackwood executive protection (EP) specialist, says over the transmission, “Hawk is leaving the garden and en route to his office.”
“Hawk,” the code name for the senator, puts me immediately on alert, as he hadn’t notified me or another EP about wanting to leave his party. While I trust the security system I’ve designed for the senator at his home, I’m also on duty, and I can’t ignore he’s on the move.
I shove all thoughts of Hadley from my mind and swiftly pass through the kitchen, bustling with his staff, who are cleaning up after the senator’s private dinner party. The loud voices from the east garden draw me forward until I reach Lee, standing just outside the door.
“Hawk’s location?” I ask.
“He’s gone with the governor. I believe to the study.” Lee’s black T-shirt with BLACKWOOD written across the front and his black cargo pants look recently pressed. One of the many reasons Lee’s an asset to Blackwood Security. He works hard and his outstanding ethics make me look good. But his lean frame is deceiving. As a black belt in East Asian martial arts, this guy can kill you before you blink an eye.
“Anything here to update?” I ask.
“Unless you count the drunk congressman who left with his wife, then no.” Lee grins.
I smile in return. “If a drunk fool is all we’ve got, then it’s a good night. Stay alert.”
Lee nods then immediately glances out at the garden, focused and ready.
Throughout the years, there have only been a handful of times we’ve ever had a problem at one of the senator’s parties, but you never want to risk having a possible situation. I imagine the worst for the senator so that he doesn’t have to.
I move through the grounds of the tailored gardens, the spatter of stars painting a perfect picture above me. I’m aware of the watchful eyes on me as I stride purposefully along the stone pathway, following the ever louder piano music.
Once I reach the fountain, I find more of the senator’s dinner guests enjoying the evening. Some people are dancing to the music, others are sitting at the tables drinking their beverages. I take the right bend in the path, and soon find Shawna, the newest EP specialist, who’s got a killer right hook and a sharp marksman’s eye.
When I reach her, I ask, “Any updates?”
“Negative,” she says. “It’s just singing crickets here.”
“Enjoy them.” I point over my shoulder toward the fence behind me. “The last party the senator had, a drugged naked fool jumped over that fence and it took three of us to take him down.”
Shawna grins. “I look forward to that moment, sir.”