He nodded. “Okay. Thanks.” He then opened the drawer to his nightstand and pulled out his own pistol. A Glock that was just as impressive as the one Jules had. He tucked it inside his jeans as he left his bedroom. Entering the living room, he found her pacing the floor. Even when pacing she had that sexy walk that could make his entire body go hard. He tried not to focus on how good she looked in her black leather trench coat and matching boots. The belt enhanced her small waistline. It didn’t take much to remember how she’d looked the two times he’d seen her at that nightclub. He knew how her clothes fit beneath that coat and was tempted to forget whoever was following him, cross the room and strip every stitch of clothing off her body.
She turned around and glared when she saw his gun. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like? You got your gun, I got mine.”
She rolled her eyes. “This is not show and tell. Do you even know how to use that thing?”
“Probably just as well as you.”
He could tell that his boast had her curious. “If that’s true, then you have some explaining to do.”
Thinking he’d said enough, possibly too much, he turned toward the kitchen. “Let’s go. I hope you’re not making this shit up.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Just to find an excuse to make a booty call. You did let me kiss you.”
“I told you to pretend. You took advantage of me,” she snapped.
“And at what point did you tell me to stop? You could have pushed me away. Bitten my tongue. Scratched my face. But you did none of those things, which leads me to believe you wanted to be kissed.”
“Like hell.”
“I’d like to think I gave you a little bit of heaven, instead.”
Ignoring her curse words, he moved toward his back door. Instead of concentrating on the potential danger outside, he was thinking about their kiss. Why had she tasted so damned good? And her womanly scent had only intensified his desire for her.
“Look, Dalton. Just stay back and let me handle this,” she said, quickly moving in front of him.
“If the person was following me, then I want to know who it is and why. We expose him together or not at all.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “We’ve wasted enough time already. Just follow my lead.”
“Whatever,” he drawled, holding the door open.
She slid out the door into the darkness. A quick glance over her shoulder indicated he was right there, close behind. A little too close for comfort, especially when she could feel his heat through her coat.
And like hers, his gun was drawn and ready.
*
“Stonewall, I told you that Bobby is handling things, so relax.”
Stonewall Courson paused from pacing in front of Roland Summers’s desk. Roland was the owner of Summers Security Firm where Stonewall had worked off and on for the past ten years. Although Roland was his boss, he was also a good friend. “I just have a gut feeling that something isn’t right.”
Almost a month ago, Stonewall and his friends Quasar Patterson and Striker Jennings had taken on the duties of undercover bodyguards for the sons of Sheppard Granger, a man whom they’d met while serving time in prison. Shep had quickly become more than just a fellow inmate to the three of them. He had become the father they’d never had, a role model they could look up to and a mentor they admired. So when word got out that his sons needed protection, Stonewall, Quasar and Striker had volunteered for the job. The hard part was making sure no one knew, not even the sons themselves.
Quasar Patterson, who was in charge of protecting Jace, the oldest Granger son, was still bragging about the two weeks he’d spent in South Africa, although he did say Jace and his wife stayed inside their hotel room most of the time. After all, they had been on their honeymoon. And Striker Jennings was protecting Caden, although nothing was happening there, either. At least not since the attempt on Caden’s life last month. According to Striker, Caden had settled into his wife’s place over her wine boutique, and when they weren’t working, the couple preferred staying inside most of the time.