and I woke to the ringing of my phone. “Hello?” I answered.
“Miss Lapierre? My name is Heath. I was sent here by Mr. Shaw to protect you. Can I come up, please? I’m to escort you to work.”
I looked at Jake, who was busy checking his phone. “Just got a text from James about a bodyguard named Heath. Let him up.”
“Okay, sure,” I mumbled.
“Thank you.” Then the man was gone.
I still couldn’t believe that I needed a bodyguard to escort me to work. What had my life turned into? Some daytime soap opera that all the women at my father’s nursing home watched? Because it was certainly starting to feel like it. Throw in a paternity scandal and a kidnapping, and we’d see you at the Daytime Emmys!
A heavy fist pounded against my solid wood door a minute or so later. I tossed on a terry cloth bathrobe and opened the door to find another big man, only this one looked less like a nightmare and more like The Hulk’s big, lesser green-hued cousin, with gun barrels for arms, a chest the size of a small sedan and a beautiful head of blond hair like some California surfer dude. He looked more like another threat than a protector.
“Uh, hi,” I whispered, my eyes traveling up and down his enormous frame.
But it was the smile and the eyes that did it. Transformed this gorilla in combat boots into a huggable, squeezable teddy bear … in combat boots. “Hi, Miss Lapierre, I’m Heath!” He grinned, showing big, straight, white teeth, the corners of his twilight-blue eyes crinkling with delight. “I’m here to keep you safe. Would you prefer if I came inside or stood out in front of your door?”
“Um.” I looked back into my apartment and heard the shower running. Jake must have jumped in. Shaking my head free of the confusing cobwebs, I stood aside. “Come in, come in. It’d be weird for me to know you were just standing in the hall. Coffee?”
He ducked under the doorframe and bent down to begin to unlace his boots. “Please.”
“Leave your boots on. I need to wash my floors anyway. Have a seat.”
“Thanks,” he said, his big smile never leaving his face as he walked past me, bringing the scent of what I could only describe as fresh mint and summer … maybe fresh-cut grass? Either way it was inviting, and somehow he managed to make it masculine.
It was a very strange feeling having this man big enough to be two average-size people sitting on my couch, but at the same time I liked it, immensely. I felt safe when I was with Jake, but now that Heath was here, I also felt that Jake was safe. Knowing he was safe made the fist around my heart unclench. I didn’t want Jake getting hurt because he was trying to protect me. If something happened to him, I’d never forgive myself, so now that Heath was here, I felt better about the whole thing.
Jake walked out a few minutes later with a towel slung low on his hips, his sculpted body glistening with water from the shower. His pecs twitched and flexed as he dried his hair. “Hey, dude.” He nodded casually at Heath, who was busy reading something on his phone. The two men shook hands and quietly sized each other up. You could practically smell the testosterone in the room, it was so thick.
“Don’t mind me, just go about your morning,” Heath said with a rumble, sitting back down.
Jake shot me a wicked grin and bobbed his eyebrows. I just rolled my eyes. “I’m going to have a shower. Maybe you should go put some clothes on.”
“Spoilsport.” He snickered, following me into the bedroom. “He said go about our morning, and we usually have wild and crazy wake-up sex. You not ready to do it in front of a voyeur yet?”
“I’ll never be ready for THAT,” I confirmed, giving him a stern look. “Now play nice and get dressed.” I sniffed the air. “Does your body wash have cinnamon in it?”
He gave me a confused look as he pulled a plain black T-shirt over his head. “No, why?”
“Because you always smell like cinnamon.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. It’s faint, but it’s there. Cinnamon and fresh linen.”
“And man, too, right? I still smell like a man!”
I chuckled as I headed into the bathroom. “Yes, you still smell like a man. A man with cinnamon buns!” I shut the door.
Tuesday at work was uneventful and easy. Heath proved to be a valuable asset in my classes. As it turned out, he’d spent some time working in Central and South America and had learned how to speak Spanish. Which wound up being very useful for a new Mexican student whose English was practically nonexistent. She clung to him like a flagpole in a tornado, and if I’m not mistaken, the incredible sexy and somewhat shy Quetzalia had developed a bit of a crush on the gargantuan teddy bear. I’d bet dollars to doughnuts Heath was not as immune to her beauty or puppy-dog eyes as he would like to think, either. I caught him a couple of times staring at her with uninhibited infatuation, or he’d whisper something to her while the rest of the class was busy, causing her to burst out into uncontrollable little girly giggles.
After work, Heath and I drove to James’s house, where I picked up Emma, and the two of us went to our kickboxing class. James had tried to forbid her from going, but when I picked her up, she was dressed for exercise and fuming mad.
“You okay?” I asked as she climbed into the front passenger seat. Heath, who had managed to fold himself in half, took up the back.
“Ha!” she barked in fury. “My stupid husband thought he could forbid me from going out. Said I was being selfish and immature wanting to leave the house at a time like this.”
“Oh,” was all I said, knowing full well that James’s and Emma’s fights were usually heated and rip-roaring. The two were very hot-blooded and passionate people, and after witnessing the intensity of their affection for each other at dinner a couple of weeks ago, I could only imagine that that passion transferred just as hot to the bedroom.
Heath snorted. “He knows I’m in going in with you guys, right?”
“Yeah, he does,” she said, turning around to look at him. “He’s just being an overprotective ass.”
“We don’t have to go,” I said with hesitation, not wanting to piss off my friend or her enraged husband, especially since he was footing the bill for Heath.
“Drive!” she ordered, pointing down the driveway. “I spend all day cooped up in that house letting two gluttonous beasts bite my nipples. I need to get out. I need to kick something, and if it’s not a punching bag, it’s going to be my husband. He can deal with his children for an hour. Besides, Jake and Brock are with him. They’ve got the girls outnumbered three to two.”
“Okay, okay.” I put the car in drive and headed down their gravel driveway.
“James has a cop coming by the house when we get back from the gym.” She gave me a look that read my mind. “I’m sorry, but it might be a while before you get to shower.”
I gave her a small smile. “I kind of assumed as much and packed a bag. James said he might sequester me in your fortress for a while, and honestly, as much as I like my house, I’ll do whatever your husband and the cops tell me to do. I’m so sorry you got caught up in this mess, Em.” I frowned and looked at her as we came to a stop at the end of the driveway. “The last thing I want is for you or the girls to get hurt.”
She patted me on the shoulder. “It’s not your fault. And you can just go stay with Jake in the garage apartment.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I can.”
Our kickboxing class had been a much-needed bout of catharsis, for the both of us. Emma and I kicked, punched and pummeled the bejesus out of the punching bag and one another’s palms until we were saturated with sweat and panting like dogs in the summer. The class was quite busy, but we sparred together most of the time, as our intensity and focus seemed to scare away the rest of the class. I had to admit there were times when even I was a tad afraid of Emma. When she bared her teeth and scowled at me as though she was getting ready to rip out my jugular, it was enough to make anyone retreat a couple of steps.
But we were both channeling our anger and frustration, her toward James, punching the bag instead of his face, while I was envisioning that the punch pads were Ted, kicking his lying, cheating face until it was just a bruised and bloody heap of skin and bones. Meanwhile, Heath stood sentry just outside the studio doors like an intimidating pillar of muscle, earning glances of approval from the women who walked past and envy from the men. By the time we met him out front, he’d given his phone number to at least three women.
When we got back to the house, there was still heated tension passing back and forth between my friend and her husband, so I steered clear and sidled up next to Jake. He was sitting out on the patio drinking beer with another mountain of muscle in a leather jacket and crew cut.
“How was the gym?” Jake asked, groping my butt as I came to stand next to him. I was warily eyeing the enormous man sitting across from him. He looked even more threatening than Heath, if that was even possible.
“Really good. I’m gross.” I batted his hand off my butt.
He rolled his eyes and chuckled before taking a sip of his beer. “I don’t care. Brock, this is Freya. Freya, Brock.”
He lifted himself up from his chair and extended a hand the size of a Christmas ham, engulfing my own and giving it a firm but not bone-crushing shake. “Nice to meet you,” he murmured. “I see you met my baby brother.”
Just then Heath joined us on the patio with a beer and a fluffy prancing Dave on his heels. “Smile, goddamn it!” He grinned, taking a seat next to Brock and lifting the dog up on to his lap. “You got the happy bodyguard, Freya, consider yourself lucky,” Heath said, smacking his brother on the back.
Jake smirked. “Well, the irritability might have something to do with the fact that you insist upon wearing leather in the middle of the summer.”
“I’m not irritable, and the heat doesn’t bother me.” Brock snorted, turning to me with a small but genuine smile. “You just say the word and I can have this ass replaced. There are four of us, and we all do the same job.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Four of you? Wow!”
“Yeah, groceries were nearly five hundred dollars a week in our house as kids,” Heath added, taking a swig of his beer. “Our poor mother. A jug of milk lasted half a day.”
Suddenly the banter and chuckles were interrupted by the silence-slashing chime of the doorbell. All three men cringed while Heath leapt to his feet to go answer it, sending Dave bounding to the ground, none too pleased.
“Shit! Someone forgot to put the ‘Do not ring bell’ sign back up. Emma will be seriously pissed if the twins wake up,” Jake said through gritted teeth. We all stilled, waiting for the ear-piercing wail from upstairs of one or both babies.
Seconds later, we were joined on the deck by Heath and a very plain-looking man in chinos and a white-collared polo shirt under a light jacket. He was plain in that he didn’t look like the cop I knew him to be. James had said he was going to call and ask a police officer in plain clothes and an unmarked car to come out and take my statement, just in case I was being watched by any of Yanni’s thugs. And as much as I hated to say it, this man was very forgettable. Short, ash-blond hair, light gray eyes and a round and friendly face, but there were no distinguishing features. Nothing stood out about him. No scars or dimples, nothing. It kind of gave me the willies.
A few moments later, James and Emma, both red-faced, joined us on the patio. James pulled out more chairs and propped the baby monitor on the big glass table we all sat around.
“Freya, this is Detective Cosgrove.” Heath angled his head toward the cop, who took a seat across from me.
“Hello,” I said shyly, being sandwiched between Jake and James while Emma sat across from her husband and inched her chair closer to Brock.
“Hello, Miss Lapierre.” He flashed me a small smile, but it was the accent that made my head snap up. He was Irish! Definitely memorable now.
I filled him in and everyone else on what had gone down the night before in the parking garage, and the whole time Detective Cosgrove nodded and scribbled, only asking the odd question about the enforcer’s appearance but otherwise letting me tell my story uninterrupted.
“And now here I am,” I finished, leaning forward and taking a sip of Jake’s beer, then puckering my face in disgust, “with a bodyguard and my only friend and her children in danger. I’m also worried about Ted’s other wife, Stacey, and her children in Edmonton. What if Yanni goes after them?”
“Aye.” He nodded, flipping his notebook closed. “You’ve done the right thing. For now, I think it’s best if you stay here as Mr. Shaw has suggested. Keep everyone under one roof with security guards.”
“You’re welcome to stay in the house or the garage apartment,” James said with a single nod.
“Thanks,” I murmured, realizing suddenly that if I moved in to the garage apartment with Jake, we’d be pretty much living together, but that there was absolutely no way I would be able to stay in the main house without hurting his feelings.
“We’ll start looking into what kind of delivery service your husband was involved in,” the detective went on, “but I’m quite familiar with the Petralia family. Your husband may have been a drug mule.”
“Or money laundering or human trafficking,” Brock added. “We’re familiar with Yanni as well.”
I gasped, thankful that my stomach was empty, because at that moment I felt incredibly ill. “No,” I shook my head emphatically, “Ted wouldn’t get into drugs … or … or any of that.”
The detective shrugged. “Well, we don’t know for sure yet. But we’ll let you know.”
“S-so what about the money?” I asked, still trying to figure out how to get my hands on fifty grand. “Was it stupid of me to refuse? Should I just find a way to get the money and pay him?”
He stood up and pushed back his seat. We all rose with him. “Hopefully we figure this all out before then. But yes, we’ll see if they do anything to retaliate to your refusal.”
James growled. “I don’t like that we’re waiting for them to retaliate. He threatened my family.”
Cosgrove nodded. “I understand, Mr. Shaw. You were smart getting security. But until they pose a serious threat or do something besides demand money, we’re not going to set up a sting or a drop. Just keep a security guard with your family at all times and you should be fine.”
“I know Yanni Petralia and his brother Spiros,” Brock said. “They don’t usually hurt women or children. It’s not their style. Spiros just said that shit to scare you.”
“Well it did,” I replied. A chill swept over me, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end. Despite the heat of the evening, I found myself shivering. Although I normally caught myself being lulled into almost a dreamy state when hearing the same accent as my mother and her parents, my whole body was on high alert, and at that moment, I wasn’t sure I’d ever sleep again. Following the train of people to the doorway, I caught Jake out of the corner of my eye. He ducked into the living room and came back with a blanket, which he then draped over my shoulders.
We were just saying goodbye to the detective, listening to his instructions and heeding his warnings, when my phone on the kitchen counter started ringing. I ran inside to answer it.
“Miss Lapierre?” came a frantic female voice.
“This is.”
“It’s Nurse Jablonski. Your father is missing.”