I normally wouldn't answer my phone while a gorgeous redhead was performing a strip tease for me in my bedroom, but it's Rachel calling, and my second in charge at Jameson Force Security wouldn’t bother me if it weren’t important. Besides, I'm just cocky enough to take on a business call while receiving personal pleasure.
"This better be good, Hart," I say curtly after connecting. My gaze drifts ever so briefly down to the almost empty glass of scotch in my hand before going back to the woman who is dry humping one of my bedposts to some rock song I don't recognize. She watches me through heavy-lidded eyes, knowing that I'll reward her with spectacular orgasms and the pleasure of my cock.
"I don't know if ‘good’ is the word," she drawls. "There's a lot of money involved, but you aren’t going to like who it's from."
"If it's that bloody congressman who hired us to babysit his duffer son, the answer is no." I learned from that job there are some things money can't buy.
"What the hell is a duffer?" Rachel asks.
"Someone who's useless," I tell her distractedly as the woman peels off her bra, exposing a pair of gloriously perky tits.
"You Brits have a funny way of talking," she replies. "Why couldn't you just have said 'useless'?"
My lips curve up into an amused smile, but she'll never know that. My tone is one of impatience when I tell her, "Just tell me what the job is, and I'll approve or deny it."
"It's Jocelyn Meyers."
My blood pressure spikes, and my fingers tighten so hard around my glass, it wouldn't surprise me if it were to shatter. It's difficult not to yell into the phone, but there's no mistaking the force of my words. "Not only no, but hell no. Whatever she needs, the answer is a bloody fucking no."
"I think you should listen—"
"I said no," I bark into the phone. "Now, is there anything else we need to discuss that doesn't have to do with Jocelyn Meyers, or can I get back to what I was doing before you tried to ruin my night?"
"She's in serious trouble," Rachel snaps at me.
"Don't care," I snarl back.
"Her life is in danger."
Every muscle in my body goes rigid, and a slight sweat breaks out on my forehead that has nothing to do with the woman who is currently shimming out of her panties. I give a hard shake of my head, wondering why Jocelyn still has the power to do that to me after all these years. Still, I manage to grit out between my teeth, "Don't. Care."
"That's what you want me to tell her?" Rachel asks calmly into the phone.
"I don't give a shit what you tell her as long as the word 'no' is somewhere in your sentence." I push away every bit of concern for Jocelyn that's starting to rear its ugly head. "Refer her over to Miller's agency. They do protection detail just fine."
There's a long moment of silence as Rachel digests what I'm saying. She's well aware of my enmity toward the world-famous Jocelyn Meyers, and I can't understand why she wants to fight me on this. I let my eyes roam all over the now fully naked woman—who is indeed a natural redhead—and hope she will distract me from this distasteful conversation.
"Fine," Rachel says with a sigh. I choose to ignore the fact that I'm also strangely unsettled that nothing is actually really resolved. Not for Jocelyn anyway. "I understand and respect your decision. But you can tell her yourself."
What Rachel says hasn’t quite penetrated before Jocelyn's soft voice comes over the line. "Kynan," she says hesitantly.
I bolt upright in my chair, my spine stiff and unrelenting as I set my glass onto the table beside me.
"Kynan," Jocelyn says again, and her voice quavers with emotion. "I could really use your help."
Fuck.
I scrub a hand over my face and blink stupidly at the woman as her hand works between her legs and she moans softly.
My jaw locks hard for a moment as I tell myself to stay strong. "We aren’t taking on celebrity detail anymore. We can refer you to a good agency to better suited for your needs."
Not the truth, but she doesn't need to know that.
There is no one better than us.
Jameson Force Security has expanded greatly since I bought it from Jerico Jameson two years ago in a cool, seven million dollar deal. The first thing I did was change the name from The Jameson Group to Jameson Force Security. I thought it brought a bit of pizazz and made us more marketable to the civilian population who might be in need of protection. While our most lucrative contracts had come from the U.S. government or various foreign allies for special forces work, as my business grew, I took on more mainstream and run-of-the-mill security jobs.
Like protecting celebrities and installing top-of-the-line security systems for them. It was work that was below my expertise level, but I hired the best of the best to handle this stuff. I personally vet every single member of my company and I'd trust them all with my life.
"If it's a matter of money—"
I cut her off. "It isn’t."
"Please, Kynan," she implores, and I can hear the watery tears in her voice.
Thankfully, I'm momentarily distracted as the redhead crawls on her hands and knees toward me. Blue eyes flashing with heat and her tits swaying provocatively. I sit silently and with a little bit of satisfaction that this woman before me is exactly what I want and need, and the woman on the other line, probably sitting in her multi million dollar Malibu mansion, is not.
The woman's hands come to my thighs, slide up, and work at my belt. My cock finally decides to get into the game and thickens at the prospect. I settle back into the chair, lifting my hips briefly so she can reach inside my pants to pull me free.
I suppress a groan as her hand circles me tight and starts to stroke. I cup her breast, relishing the weight of it before giving her nipple a pinch. Her lush lips peel back into a wicked smile and then her mouth is on me.
Fuck yeah. That's exactly what I need.
My hand goes to her hair, fingers gripping tight. I help her bob up and down, starting to get lost in the sensation.
"He almost killed me last night," Jocelyn says, and for a moment, her words don't register.
When they do, I pull the redhead off my cock. She looks at me in surprise, but I give her a small shake of my head as I sit straight in my chair again.
"What?" I manage to rasp out.
"A stalker," she whispers. "He's been harassing me for a really long time, but he managed to break into my house last night. I couldn't get to my panic room in time."
The air in my lungs freezes.
Everything around me seems to freeze for that matter as my ears ring with her revelation.
"He heard the sirens approaching before he could . . ." Her words trail off and bile rises in my throat. She takes in a breath and lets it out before finishing softly. "He ran off, and they didn't catch him."
I clear my throat from the thick emotion that's built up. "Where are you? Is someone with you now?"
Jocelyn gives a mirthless laugh. "I'm in your office. Over on Clarke Avenue."
She's here?
In Vegas?
"Put Rachel back on the phone," I instruct her, my words clipped and impersonal.
There's an indistinct murmuring between the women as the phone gets passed. Rachel's voice comes through brisk and professional. "What do you want me to do?"
I look longingly at the redhead, who has since moved to lounge in a sexy pose on my bed. I want to get lost in that and forget everything else.
There's no holding back the long sigh of resignation that escapes me. "We're taking the case. Starting now. Bring her to my house."
"Your house?" Rachel asks with surprise.
"For safety’s sake, she stays with me until I can figure out who to assign this case to."