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“I hope you negotiated an extra bonus for every time I have to wear a tuxedo.”
Jett stood with Kelby at the bottom of the stairs of Stone’s palatial home on the outskirts of the Greenhaven section of Rye. And Kelby, as he always did when he had to dress up, was bitching. Ignoring him, Jett looked around. Although Stone and Sam both had houses in the city, this six-bedroom Tudor-style home was where both grew up. Every year it was tradition for the Stone family to host their annual cocktail party. Everyone they knew—and Stone and Sam knew a lot of people—received invitations to the elegant home for good conversation, cocktails, and canapés.
For the men who had to secure the premises, it was an enormous pain in the ass.
“Stop fiddling with the cuffs of your jacket,” Jett told Kelby, his eyes on the stairs across the hallway. The guests entered the house behind him—artists, businessmen, socialites, and celebrities—and he was forming hives because he had his back to an open door but he refused to take his eyes off the stairs.
His focus was on the woman who was yet to appear and who was, by his mental calculation, about ten minutes late.
“I’ll go up and get her,” Jett stated, frustrated at Sam’s tardiness.
“Give the girl a break,” Kelby said. “There are Pytheon agents stationed at the top of these stairs and at the back stairs, nobody is going up or down without us knowing. There’s nobody upstairs except Sam and Kate—”
“Kate?” Jett demanded, puzzled. Who the hell was Kate?
“Kate Williams, dickhead. The NYPD detective?”
“Oh, Will.” The name clicked and he looked at his friend who was studying the seventeenth-century portrait of a Stone ancestor to the right of him. “You call her Kate?”
“I don’t call her anything,” Kelby retorted.
“Touchy,” Jett murmured and instinctively took a step back to remove himself from Kelby’s reach. His friend should know better than to punch him at a cocktail party but sometimes he—they—forgot where they were when a button was pushed. And Kate Williams was, obviously, a very big button for Kelby.
Mmm, Kelby never got morose around a woman unless she shot him down and that had probably only happened once, or maybe twice, in Kelby’s life. “So she’s immune to your charm, huh? Interesting.”
“I haven’t wasted any time on her,” Kelby growled. “And shut the hell up, asswipe.”
Jett laughed, delighted by the annoyance in Kelby’s eyes. Yeah, Will had definitely crawled under his skin in a big way. Watching them dance around each other was going to be fun.
They heard feminine voices above them and Jett straightened. He buttoned his tuxedo jacket and felt the reassuring weight of his handgun nestled into the small of his back, his backup piece strapped to his ankle. If anyone here attempted to mess with Sam, her brother, or Seth, Jett and his men, and a bunch of Pytheon operatives would be ready for anything.
Jett looked up the stairs and blinked at the vision standing on top. Yeah, Will looked good but Samantha looked... ethereal. Her off-the-shoulder dress was the same color as her eyes, a stunning violet-gray-blue shade he’d never seen before. It was the perfect complement to her which fell in a straight copper fall down her back.
“Holy shit.”
Jett snapped his eyes back to his friend’s face and was about to blast Kelby for ogling Sam when he realized that Kelby’s eyes weren’t on her at all. Jett reluctantly, it had to be said, pulled his eyes off Sam to look at Will and admitted she looked good. Her pale yellow gown complemented her olive skin and made her blue eyes pop but it was Kelby’s reaction to seeing the hard-ass cop all dressed up and sexy that amused him.
“Holy, holy shit,” Kelby muttered again and looked utterly pole-axed.
Jett grinned, utterly entertained by his normally slick friend’s gob smacked reaction.
The women reached them and Jett inhaled Sam’s perfume, a light, fresh scent that made his head swim. God, how was he supposed to concentrate on protecting her when he just wanted to drag her back up those stairs, drop that gown to her floor, and kiss every freckle she possessed?
“Jett?”
Jett shook his head as if to clear it, refocusing his eyes on Sam’s lovely face. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay? You look... cross,” Sam said, biting the corner of her lip.
Jett placed his hand on her lower back, feeling her warm skin under the thin material of her beaded gown. “Yeah, just trying to persuade my heart to start up again.” He swallowed, looked her in the eye and tried to smile. “You look stunning, Sam.”
Sam frowned at him and he saw the doubt in her eyes, the suspicion. “You don’t have to say that,” she whispered and turned away.
Jett frowned at her profile as she led the way into the massive, downstairs reception area that flowed onto an equally large entertainment area. Why had she dismissed his compliment with a frown and a shrug? He never said anything he didn’t mean and couldn’t think why she’d think he would.
Uncomfortable with leaving the status quo, he reached for her hand and pulled her toward the wall, using his body to hide her from the guests. He looked down at her and when she wouldn’t meet his eyes, he used his knuckle to lift her chin.
“Let’s try that again. You look sensational.”
When Sam didn’t reply, Jett cocked his head. “This is the point where you say, ‘Thanks, Jett, you look good too.’”
Sam blushed and the heat in her cheeks heightened the color of her freckles. “You do look good.” Sam pursed her lips and—finally!—met his eyes. “Look, Jett, I appreciate your comments about the way I look but I don’t need them. I know that I’m not the most beautiful woman in the room. Hell, I don’t even make the top hundred, but I am okay with that.”
Sorry, what? What the hell was he missing?
Sam reached up and touched her hair. “All my life I’ve been teased about my hair, about my freckles, about my height. I was the gangliest, most awkward, spotty, carrot top you’ve ever seen. I haven’t really changed that much.”
Say what? “Are you seriously telling me that you don’t think you are pretty?”
“Carrot tops with spots generally aren’t.”
Sam was aiming for flippant but he heard the note of insecurity in her voice. Unable to believe what he was hearing and not knowing what words to say to make her believe she just had to walk into the room for his junk to react, he gripped her by the wrist and tugged her away from the wall. “Come with me.”
Keeping a firm grip on her hand, Jett led her out of the reception room, into the hallway, and down the passageway. Opening the first door he came to and seeing it was a library, he pulled her inside, shut the door behind her, and turned the key in the lock. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he pushed her backward so she leaned against the heavy oak door.
Jett placed the palm of his hands on either side of her head and bent his knees so his eyes were level with hers. “Yeah, you’re not a sun-kissed blonde, nor a sultry brunette. But neither are you generic or plastic or forgettable,” Jett said, his heart pumping warmed blood into his veins. “I think your hair is sensational and I love your freckles. As you walked down the stairs, I was wishing that I could kiss every dot. I love your slim, elegant body, your small breasts and the fact that you are tall, that I don’t have to risk a neck injury to do this.”
He couldn’t wait any longer; he had to kiss her, had to find out whether her lips were as soft as he remembered, how she tasted. His mouth covered hers and he wanted to go slow, he really did, but as soon as he made contact, his self-control wavered. Then Sam made a noise in the back of her throat and her hands grabbed the lapels of his tux, pulling him closer, her mouth opening in a silent demand for more.
His hands dropped to her hips and yanked her into him, pushing his rock hard dick against her lower stomach, his tongue plunging into her mouth to wind around hers. His hand caressed the curves of her butt, stroked down her leg, up her rib cage. Sam arched her chest, knowing she needed his hand on her breast and he was more than happy to oblige. His thumb swiped her nipple and she whimpered, changing the angle of her head so he could kiss her deeper, take more.
Shit, if they didn’t stop then he was going to take her here, up against the door of the family library, the guests be damned. He’d stop, he just needed a little more time to taste the essence of her, explore her long body, inhale her fragrance, to play with her gentle curves. Jett pushed his hand into the triangle covering her right breast and hummed when he found her puckered nipple. Pulling his mouth off hers was torture but kissing her neck, her jaw, nibbling his way down her long, elegant neck soon eased the sting. He had to taste her nipple, needed to kiss her there and then he’d stop.
Maybe.
Jett pulled the fabric of her dress aside and looked at her perfectly pink, beaded bud and sighed. God, women were so pretty. Wanting to draw out the anticipation, he rubbed his cheek against hers, nuzzled her with his nose. Sam’s hands speared into his hair and, from a long way away, heard her breathless begging.
“Kiss me Jett, take me into your mouth.”
Yeah, he was so on board with that plan. Jett laved her nipple with his tongue, his hands pulling the fabric of her long dress up her hip so he could touch her thigh, caress the skin between her legs. Even though he wasn’t quite touching her core, he could feel her damp heat. God, if he touched her, he’d pass the point of no return.
He intended to make love to Samantha Stone, he’d discover every last inch of her but he wanted to make love to her slowly and reverently and not up against a door in the middle of a party. Oh, they’d do that too, but not for their first time.
Jett gave her nipple a final nibble, one last quick suck, and pulled his hands away from her thighs and ignored Sam’s whimper of disappointment. He placed both his hands in their original position, up by her head, and rested his forehead on hers.
“Holy shit.”
Sam nodded and placed her hands flat against the door behind her, her eyes closed as she tried to regain her composure. Jett looked down and her breast was still exposed—so pink, so pretty—and it took everything he had to reach down and pull the fabric across her, hiding her from his eyes.
She looked like an Irish queen, flushed with pleasure. How could she not think she was attractive? He’d had sex with gorgeous women, pretty women, flat-out fucking beautiful women but never one as exquisite as Sam. She needed to understand...
Jett picked up her hand and placed her palm on his dick. Sam’s eyes flew open and collided with his, her luscious mouth forming a perfect “o.” Because her touching him was pure torture, especially since he couldn’t take it any further, he pulled her hand away and held her fingers in his.
“You walk into the room and my dick jumps to attention, demanding to be released from my pants. I see you and all I can think about is getting you naked. I hear your voice and the party in my pants starts.”
“It’s not a good idea, Jett.”
He agreed. “Sure it’s not, the last thing I need to be is distracted when your life is in my hands. And I can and will separate my lust for you from the job I have to do. That’s not the point.”
“It isn’t?”
Well, it was a point—literally and metaphorically—but it wasn’t the point he was trying to make. “The point is that I think you are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met and when I compliment you, I mean every fucking word I say.”
“Oh.”
Jett pulled back to look at her, really look at her. She needed to hear what he was saying. “You aren’t fifteen anymore and what you are is beautiful. Got it?”
“Um... Yes?”
Jett grinned at the hesitancy in her voice. “I’ll keep telling you until you believe it.”
Sam closed her eyes, opened them, and blinked a few times. She ducked under his arm and walked away from him, smoothing her hands down her designer gown. Eventually, she met his eyes and he was sad to see that they were now guarded. “I’m not going to date you, Jett. I don’t date or have relationships with rescuers.”
“Rescuers?”
“Pytheon agents, military guys, first responders, firemen, policemen... rescuers.”
Jett folded his arms, genuinely interested. “Why not?”
“They don’t have high life expectancy rates. I’ve seen too many broken hearts and counseled too many bereaved families to willingly put myself in the position of loving—caring for a man who might get himself killed.”
Fair enough. Jett ignored his wave of disappointment. Needing to level the playing field, he added his own two bucks in. “And I don’t date, period. I’m not interested in a relationship with you or anyone else.”
Sam’s raised eyebrows were a demand for further explanation.
“Women can’t cope with my here today, gone tomorrow lifestyle. I can’t cope with them promising me that they can and then bailing when it gets too tough. So, I’ll hook up but committing and settling down? Not going to happen.”
“So, we’re on the same page? That this isn’t a good idea and we shouldn’t be doing this?”
That was what his head was saying but his junk was down on its knees begging for a different outcome. “We shouldn’t sleep together.”
Jett saw the flash of disappointment in her eyes at his statement.
“But we’re going to,” he added, reaching out to turn the key in the door. “At some point, we’re going to get up close and very naked. And the last thing we’ll be doing together is sleeping. You with me?”
Sam sighed, nodded, and looked rueful. “You’re probably right. The attraction between us is too strong to pretend that we’re not going to have sex.”
Thank you, baby Jesus.
“But not tonight,” Sam said, walking toward the door he’d just opened.
Wait! What?
“Why not tonight?” Jett followed her out, feeling like a horny teenager who’d just been cock-blocked by his girlfriend.
“You haven’t,” Sam said, her words accompanied by a sexy smile, “worked nearly hard enough for that to happen.”
As Kelby steered the SUV around the corner and onto Sam’s street, Jett scanned the road ahead of him. The yellow streetlights cast a sickly tinge over the wet streets. Thank God for the weather. Sleet and a temperature hovering below freezing meant the residents of Boerum Hill only ventured outside when they needed to and, after one in the morning, anyone with any sense would be in bed.
It made his job protecting Sam so much easier.
Jett rubbed the back of his neck, conscious of his tension-filled muscles. The evening had been his version of hell, far too many people, too many inane conversations. But he did get an insight into Sam’s world, met some of her friends, a lot of acquaintances. Amongst the people she adored was her childhood friend, Fern, and Mary, Stone’s personal assistant who’d been with Pytheon since Jasper Stone, Sam’s dad, formed the company. He met her friend, Carla, whom straddled the divide between friend and acquaintance and someone he sensed Sam seemed to tolerate for Fern’s sake.
If he started thinking about the men who buzzed around Sam, his head might explode. How could she possibly think she wasn’t that attractive when every man she spoke to tried to flirt with her?
Kelby steered the SUV around the corner and Sam’s house came into view. Kelby pulled over but left the car idling, both of them trying to peer into the shadows.
Sitting in the back seat next to a sleepy Sam, Jett lifted his eyes to the rearview mirror to connect with Kelby. “Problem?” Kelby quietly asked.
“Dunno,” Jett answered, needing to take a minute. “Just super reluctant to open the door.”
Their eyes met again and Kelby shrugged. “Your call, dude. If you aren’t happy we’ll keep driving but we either need to get out or move. We’re sitting ducks.”
Sam, who’d been dozing, her head on Jett’s shoulder, yawned. “Yay, we’re home. I’m exhausted.”
Sam reached for the door handle and Jett caught her hand. “Hold on, princess.” Jett looked at Kelby again. “Double escort?”
Kelby didn’t waste time, he yanked the keys from the ignition and was at the passenger door, opening it just enough so his body shielded Sam as she exited the vehicle. Jett climbed out and stood behind Sam, keeping his hand anchored to her back.
“Make this fast, Red,” Jett ordered.
Sam frowned at him. “What’s going on?” she demanded.
“Just walk, Samantha.” Jett heard his hard, don’t-argue-with-me voice and saw Sam’s annoyed, and hurt, expression.
He’d apologize later, when she was inside and safe.
“Move, dammit,” Jett hissed and felt relieved when Sam finally started moving her feet.
Kelby moved to Sam’s left side, his left hand holding his Glock against his thigh. Jett tapped his Glock against his own leg, his weapon feeling like an old friend.
Jett and Kelby exchanged a long look over Sam’s head and, as they walked up the steps to her door, her wedged between them. Jett pushed his chest into Sam’s back as his fingers punched in the access code to her house. The door opened, and he stepped inside, his weapon raised. He glanced at the keypad by the door. The alarm hadn’t been breached but that meant nothing. If he could bypass the alarms others could too.
Jett heard the front door close and knew that Kelby was pushing Sam into the hall corner and standing in front of her while Jett cleared the house. Jett spun into the kitchen, saw it was empty and moved back into the hall to ease open the door to the downstairs bathroom. Jett nodded at Kelby to guard the stairs as he placed his hand on the door handle to open the door to the lounge.
Call him crazy, but he felt the need to be as close to the floor as possible. Jett sank to his haunches and gestured for Sam to drop to the floor and when she crouched on the floor he duck walked into the room, his gun steady. The curtains were open, Jett noticed, the icy wind slapping his face. Jett’s eyes peered into the shadows and the hair on his neck rose. There was no one in the room that presented a danger to him but that didn’t mean he was alone.
Keeping to the side of the window, he approached cautiously, every instinct screaming that there was a dark, malevolent presence on the other side of the sill. He edged the drape away with the barrel of his gun and cautiously looked out. The car sat where they left it, double parked.
“Jett?”
Jett turned his head to look at Kelby and that action saved his life. He heard the smack of a bullet hitting the wooden sill where his head had been a moment before and a chunk of wood skimmed his head. He threw himself backward, using the wall beneath the sill as cover as a barrage of bullets shattered the pane and embedded in the opposite wall. Semi-automatic, high caliber, probably hollow tips.
He couldn’t stay here. Jett launched himself sideways and leopard crawled across the floor, keeping the furniture beneath him and the open window.
Sam.
Jett, his heart racing, and his mind running a mile a minute, reached the doorway and felt Kelby’s hand grab the lapel of his coat and he rolled into the hallway. Kelby kicked the door closed and they moved to the corner, as far away from the door as possible. Jett saw the half open door to the powder room and grabbed Sam’s wrists. He unceremoniously yanked her sideways, pushing her into the small space and shielding her with his big body, his pistol pointed at the front door.
The heavy, hard silence was only broken by Sam’s loud breathing behind them. Jett looked across to Kelby, his WTF obvious on his face. “This makes no sense,” he whispered.
“And why wait to fire when we were already in the house? Why not nail us as we walked up the path?” Kelby responded, the expression on his face rock hard. “And why fire from the side of the house? Why not hit the front door, where he would’ve had a better chance of taking us all out?”
Jett had been in some weird situations before but this one was high up on his what-the-fuck list.
“He’s toying with you,” Sam said, from behind him.
Jett wanted to look at her but, despite the fact he thought the gunman was gone; he needed to keep his eye on the door. “What are you talking about, Sam?” Jett barked the words, wishing he could turn around and pull her into his arms and just, dammit, hold her. Breathe her in.
“It’s The Recruiter, he’s playing games. It’s his thing... he likes to toy with his prey before taking them down. He did it with Seth in Cape Town, the mannequin in the pool? Taking and returning that kid? He likes to play games,” Sam explained. “This was his warning shot, his way of telling you that he wants to play a bit more, he wants to ramp up the fear.”
“If I hadn’t turned to look at Kelby in that second, I would’ve died, Sam!” Jett retorted. “He wasn’t playing games!”
“But it’s not about you, Jett, it’s about Stone, and me,” Sam replied. “Your death would’ve ramped up our tension and fear and he’d consider the evening a success.”
“Happy to spoil his plans,” Jett muttered, thinking she made perfect sense.
And the fact she was thinking clearly, minutes after a barrage of bullets hit her house, caused his admiration for her to rise. Samantha Stone had more balls than he gave her credit for.
Jett looked at his watch, two minutes had passed since the last round of fire and he looked at Kelby. “I hit the panic app on my cell, did you?”
“Yeah,” Kelby replied.
“Since they had two emergency signals within seconds of each other, Cracker is going to send everyone he possibly can. Fire and police will be here in minutes. I vote we stay put until they arrive.” Jett reached behind him, found Sam’s foot and patted it.
He risked a quick look at her.
Their eyes met and all the color drained from her face. “Oh, God, you’re hurt!”
Blood rolled down his forehead and Jett swiped it away. “I’m fine.”
Jett turned away from her and looked at the bright red blood on his hand.
“You are like the fucking cat with eighteen lives, dude,” Kelby said, his voice holding a trace of amusement.
“Tell me about it,” Jett muttered.
It had been another close call to add to his tally. He was a lucky son of a bitch. He wiped his hand down the side of his thighs and cocked his head when he heard the first notes of a siren.
“Are they coming for us?” Sam asked.
“Yep,” Jett replied. “Sam, the cavalry is going to kick that door down and there are going to be a crap load of guns pointed at us. Just stay behind me, keep quiet and we’ll sort it out, okay?”
The siren grew louder and louder and Jett had to strain to hear Sam’s reply. “I’m too sober and far too tired for this crap.”
He was smiling when the door flew open and six semi-automatic rifles were pointed at his heart, this time, thank God, by the good guys.
