Taking Control (Babysitting a Billionaire #3)

She hated the little zing of excitement that flashed through her at the name. She swallowed, breathed in, breathed out. “Put him through,” she said.

“Jessica?” The zing fizzled to nothing as she recognized the voice. Rory McCabe.

“Yes.”

“I’m calling to ask you to reconsider.”

She frowned. “There’s nothing to reconsider. Your son does not want our protection. There’s nothing I can do.”

“There’s been another attempt on his life.”

Shock slammed her in the stomach. She swallowed her fear. “Is he okay?”

“Fine, a few cuts and bruises. It was a letter bomb, sent to his apartment. Something went wrong and it exploded without being opened, early this morning. Destroyed the apartment, but luckily Declan was just arriving home. He was getting out of the elevator when it happened.”

And where was Declan coming back from so early in the morning? She took a deep breath. “I still don’t see what we can do if he refuses protection.”

“He’s agreed to meet with you again.”

Something unidentifiable squirmed in her belly. “Maybe another company? We can recommend someone almost as good.”

“No. He made it clear, it has to be you.”

Why? She’d thought they’d said everything there was to say. She’d told him she hated him—got it out of her system. He’d told her she was…nice. What more was there to add? “Give me a moment.” She sat back in her seat and gnawed on her lower lip, still tender from Declan’s kisses. As she pondered, the door opened and Jake strolled in. He quirked one brow when he saw her on the phone, then picked up his wife and sat down with her on his lap. Jess swiveled her chair so she didn’t have to watch.

What if she didn’t do this and Declan died? And why was that anything to do with her? It would be his fault. He was the one being an asshole here. There were loads of companies who could guard him. He didn’t have to insist on hers.

But she knew that if he was killed, she wouldn’t forgive herself. However much she hated him, she didn’t want him dead.

“Shit.” She took a deep breath. “Where do you want to meet?”

“At the club. One o’clock. We can discuss it over lunch.”

How civilized. As she opened her mouth to make a sarcastic comment, she caught Jake’s eye across the desk and snapped it closed again. “I’ll see you there, Mr. McCabe.”

“I’ll tell the door to let you in.” Rory McCabe sounded amused. Wanker. She slammed the phone down before she could say anything she might regret.

“You have a tattoo?” Jake asked.

“Piss off.”

He grinned. “So what’s happening?”

“Obviously, I impressed Mr. McCabe with my superb client skills and my super-nice personality. The job is back on.” She pushed herself to her feet. “I think I might go order my new desk.”

“I’m impressed. From what Dave said I got the idea things didn’t go well.”

“Well, he was pretty determined that he didn’t need protection. Totally deluded—it was obvious he had no chance. So, I went back alone. We talked things through. Clearly I made an impression.”

For a few seconds something flickered in Jake’s eyes. Suspicion perhaps? Was he doubting her people skills? Probably. He wasn’t blind or stupid. She kept her expression bland. Finally, he shrugged. “Good, just keep Declan McCabe happy and alive. Avoid telling him he’s an asshole, and you have the job.”

Kim sat up straight on his lap. “Declan McCabe?” Her gaze flicked to Jess’s bottom and her eyebrows rose.

Time to make a strategic exit. “Okay, gotta go. We’ll catch up later.”

She had about three hours and she was going to dig up everything she could on Declan and his father. Then she’d have one more meeting and decide whether she really gave a crap if Declan McCabe lived or died.





Chapter Six


Declan rubbed a finger over the cut on his forehead.

Someone had tried to blow him up.

That pissed him off more than the bullet.

He took a deep gulp of scotch, then slammed the glass down on his desk so the liquid sloshed over the sides. If he’d arrived home even moments earlier, he’d be dead, or at the least a little charred. The whole death-threat thing hadn’t seemed real, even after the shooting, but now it was sinking in. Someone wanted him dead.

He tried to analyze his feelings. Not fear so much as irritation. Okay, maybe a little fear—truth was he didn’t want to die. He closed his eyes and had a flashback to the moment he’d plunged into Jess’s hot, tight body yesterday. And knew he would have her again. He just wasn’t sure how. She hated him.