Taken by Tuesday

Taken by Tuesday By Catherine Bybee

Also by Catherine Bybee


Chapter One



Judy pressed the red raid button and hoped she hadn’t misjudged her opponent in this stupid online game. She only needed five more valor points to make the next level, and the battery on her tablet was flashing a 20 percent warning.

“What the hell are you doing?” Meg, her roommate of four years, stood in skimpy workout shorts and glared from the doorway.

“Avoiding!” Damn it, her math was off and the raid failed, putting her behind for at least half an hour. “Stupid game.”

Meg tossed her gym bag on the floor and moved into the small kitchen they shared in the off-campus apartment. “You told me you weren’t joining hell with me because you needed to study. I walk in . . . and what do I see? You, on that waste-of-time game and not studying.”

“I needed a break.” Hell was their code word for James and his boot camp workout at the local gym. James constructed his workouts in a series of obstacles that worked every possible muscle in the human body . . . hence the term hell. It was H. E. double L. when you couldn’t sit in a chair or on the toilet without cursing James. Yet they went back day after day.

Not today . . . at least for Judy. Her take-home final for advanced architectural design was kicking her ass. So what that it was due tomorrow at seven in the morning. Or that she’d all but told herself she was a fool for adding an additional major to her senior year. Who cared that she’d tossed fifteen thousand dollars onto her student loans? So what!

She buried her head in her hands. “I’m screwed.”

“You’re fine.” Meg kicked the refrigerator door closed, a cold water bottle clenched in her hand.

“I suck. The design I’m working on doesn’t make any sense. There’s nothing dynamic about it . . . nothing that says ‘I’m the best structure in the world, build me,’ nothing.”

Meg waved away Judy’s concern. “You’re overthinking it. Stressed. What you need is a night out and a good lay.”

Judy rolled her eyes. “It’s due tomorrow, Meg, I don’t have time for a quick anything.” Besides, she’d given up the quick mean-nothing guys in her junior year. Even the young, attractive professors seemed less interesting since . . .

Since . . .

“Well, you need to do something to relax,” Meg told her. “You’re all clogged up.” Meg always said things like that. Her parents were throwbacks from the late sixties, early seventies. They had Meg late in life and were completely burnt when they conceived. Hence, Meg’s free feeling about sex and screw the establishment agenda. It was amazing she’d made it through a formal education. Yeah, she was leaving the University of Washington with a degree in business, but just barely.

The fact that Meg studied business had confused Judy when they first met. Meg seemed much more likely to major in art. According to Meg, students graduating with an art major waited tables their entire lives and seldom had any security when they grew old. Judy still questioned if Meg would be happy in any business setting. Time would tell.

Judy had finished her business requirements early in an effort to tack on architectural design as a second major. Her father wasn’t happy but couldn’t bitch a whole lot when he learned that Judy had taken online courses during the regular school year as well as her last summer to complete what she needed in order to graduate with a double major.

Only now, she was sitting in her apartment playing stupid online war games and avoiding her final.

“Some of us are getting together at Bergies. A drink could clear your head.”

Judy tossed aside the tablet that housed her video games, her e-mail, her life . . . and stood. “I need to shower first.”



“I’m on assignment,” Rick whispered to himself once he hit the campus of the University of Washington. Didn’t matter that he’d started his trek en route to Boise State, the college where Karen had told him Judy studied. He only wasted one plane ticket to the wrong destination.

He scouted the auditorium where graduation ceremonies would take place . . . looked at the location he’d been told the VIPs were going to stand while they watched their sons, daughters, or in this case, sisters, walk.

Michael Wolfe, the celebrity and friend Rick was there to protect, was the Elvis of modern film . . . minus the guitar and voice. Michael’s entire family—parents, siblings, and even his ex-wife—would be present for Judy’s graduation. The paparazzi were the most likely obstacle to overcome, but Rick knew he couldn’t be too cautious.

He envisioned the tiny pixie that had held adventure and fire in her blood, and smiled.

The arena was fine, he decided. Two main exits were the only places the media could breach. It would take less than three men to manage, and Michael and his family could watch Judy’s graduation in peace. On second thought . . . maybe he’d add a fourth man to the job so he could watch Judy graduate.

“Does everything meet with your approval, Mr. Evans?”

Rick had nearly forgotten about the administrator of campus security who had joined him.

“How much security do you have on hand on graduation day?”

“A dozen are scheduled.”

“Trusted? None can be bought . . . right?” It wouldn’t be the first time a security guard earned a quick buck by letting the media slip in.

“Of course.” Pete, the head of security, looked offended.

“So, where do the graduating seniors hang out two weeks before graduation?”

Rick hadn’t gone to college. He’d joined the Marines shortly after high school. Formal education or pushing paper around all day wasn’t in the cards for him. No! He wanted adventure. So much f*cking adventure that his buddies had been killed and parts of his own body were damaged and scarred thanks to his time in the service. Yeah, once a Marine always a Marine, but at thirty-one, he didn’t have a strong desire to go back.

He didn’t regret his time, but it did seem as if he had simply put his life on hold while everyone else passed him by. Now that his last remaining Marine colleague was married and had a kid of his own, it felt like maybe Rick was missing a key element in life.

When the nights were long, and sleep evaded him, Rick’s thoughts moved to one person . . . Utah.

God, she was piss and vinegar . . . sexy and smart all rolled into one. Not that he should pollute her world, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her.



Bergies was a dive off the college row of trendy joints where most of the kids hung . . . this was for the slightly older students blowing off steam during their last days of carefree college life.

A slow, steady sprinkling of rain fell outside but the windows were open to the outside to let the air circulate. It was only nine but the bar was packed and the music was loud. The perfect combination for forgetting or hooking up. Somehow, he didn’t think he’d see Utah inside.

But she’d surprised him before, so who knew?

Rick stepped into the bar and let the door behind him shut. The mat under his feet was soaked, so wiping was a joke. He moved past the first booth and the burnt bouncer that sat close to the door. The man wasn’t attentive enough to realize that Rick, wearing more than one weapon, had breached the walls. Not that Rick had any intentions of showing anyone his guns. Well, not the bought and paid for ones, in any event.

“Hey, handsome? What can I get ya?”

The cocktail waitress, who was too skinny and too needy, zeroed in on him before he could smell the stale beer. Her invitation was more about showing each other their body parts than offering him a beverage.
     



Rick stuck with a drink.

“Heineken.”

She winked. “You got it.” She disappeared with a shake of her hips and a flick of her bleached blonde hair.

Not his type.

The smile that always sat on his lips pivoted a couple of heads in his direction, but when he glanced beyond the eyes following him, the women twisted around in their seats and returned to the conversations they were having with other patrons.

Blondie balanced the lone beer on her tray and licked her lips while she handed it to him. He fished a ten from his wallet. “Keep the change.”

The ten disappeared in the tiny pocket of her short skirt. “I’m off at midnight.”

“And I’m here looking for someone.”

She offered a small pout. “If you change your mind . . .” She winked and walked away.

Not gonna happen, sweetheart.

Rick moved to the back of the bar, where players held cue sticks and waited their turn by a few pool tables.

A throaty laugh made him pause.

He knew that laugh.

The smile on his face suddenly felt more genuine. His gaze slid across the room when she laughed again. Her back was to him, but it was her . . . Utah. She held her cue stick and pointed at a corner pocket. “Watch ’em and weep.”

She sank the eight ball like it was her bitch and the guys around the table groaned. A short-haired blonde lifted her hand and made a grabby motion with her fingers. “Pay up!”

Utah laughed, laid her cue on the table, and grabbed the bottle of beer at her side. All the while Rick just watched the interplay. She wore tight jeans, a tucked-in tank that hugged her waist in a mouth-watering way . . . over the ensemble was a jean jacket that he could easily picture draped over the handlebars of his motorcycle.

“I think we just got hustled,” one of the young college kids said as he shoved his hand in his wallet to pay his debt.

“I tried to warn you.”

Judy’s friend shoved the bills into her pocket faster than the waitress had. “Anyone else? Twenty-buck minimum with a round of drinks.”

This might be fun.

Rick took a step forward and lifted his voice above the crowd. “A hundred bucks.”

Utah froze, but didn’t turn around. He wondered if she recognized his voice. Had she thought about him in the last year? With the exception of her brother’s divorce party, he hadn’t seen her . . . not outside of a wet dream or two.

The blonde swiveled her head like a snake to prey and her eyes did that sweeping thing that happened to him once in a while. Rick knew he wasn’t hard on the eyes, knew he filled out his shirt like a Marine should. His thick shoulders and neck screamed military or linebacker. He did play a little football in high school.

“Who the hell are you?” the blonde mumbled.

Rick chuckled.

Judy slowly turned and had to tilt her head back to look at him. “Green Eyes.”

“Hey, Utah.”

“You know this guy?” The blonde shoved in next to Judy and nudged her arm.

God, she was even more adorable than he remembered. He didn’t let her eyes go, just matched her stare. A blush rose to her cheeks and a few freckles peeked through. Her snarky remark about his presence was a heartbeat away. He’d lay another hundred bucks on the table as a bet that the next words out of her mouth would shock everyone within earshot.

“Did the steroid train stop in town when I wasn’t looking?”

The blonde started to laugh.

Rick stepped even closer so barely an inch separated them. The smile never left his face. “I hear steroids shrink dicks.”

As if she couldn’t help herself, Judy glanced down, and it was Rick’s turn to laugh. He brushed the edge of her body with his and removed the cue from the table. “What do ya say, Utah? I’ll even let you break. Ladies first and all that.”

Rick knew they were drawing a crowd, but the interplay between them matched the sparks that hovered over them like a damn rainbow, and he was powerless to care what anyone thought.

“A hundred bucks is steep, Judy.”

“S’OK, Meg . . . Rick’s a big talker. Besides, he doesn’t know what I’m capable of.”

Rick shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Now, now . . . don’t want to show all your cards.”

“She’s really good, dude,” the guy she’d relieved of twenty bucks said from across the table.

Rick lowered his voice. “Will you go easy on me, babe?”

Judy regained some of her lost composure and pushed away from his personal space. “Not on your life. And I’m not your babe!”

We’ll see about that.

He couldn’t stop smiling.



I’m not going to smile. I’m not going to smile. OK, inside she was smiling. Though the man could be quite aggravating, he was so yummy to look at. Made the men in the bar look like boys. Compared to him, they were.

Meg lowered her lips to her ear. “Who is he?”

Judy chalked her cue stick and whispered, “Mike’s security.”

“The guy from last summer?”

Yeah, the guy who helped find Becky Applegate and bring Becky’s abusive father to justice. Rick might have the nickname Smiley, but that smile would vanish in a heartbeat if someone screwed with him. She’d seen him in action, and he was a tornado without a weather warning siren. Though if her own heart beating in her chest was any indication, she was being given a warning or two about this man.

“Grrr!” Meg growled under her breath like a freaking cat.

“You should go for it.”

Meg snickered. “Hon, he’s not here looking at me.”

Judy glanced up and noticed Rick’s intense stare. She finished her beer and signaled the waitress. “The bet is a hundred bucks and a round of drinks.”

“Whatever the lady wants.”

“Another round, Cindy . . . and whatever he’s having.”

Rick waved his beer in the air, leaned back, and crossed his arms over his chest. Too bad this dive didn’t have Dom Pérignon or she’d see if Rick’s wallet could handle her. Not that she’d had a lot of experience with expensive wines . . . well, when she visited her brother there always seemed to be pricy bubbly.

“Anytime you’re ready, babe.”

Around her, there were side bets taking place. Not that she had any earthly clue of Rick’s ability, but she had to guess some of the guys thought his very stature was enough to bet on. She had to admit, his confidence shook her . . . a little.

Judy placed the white ball on the table and leaned over. Directly in front of her, Rick stood, just on the other side of the colorful balls all racked up and ready to fly. Pool was nothing but angles and lines. Things she worked with every day in school. Once she pictured the table as a big grid with a multitude of possibilities, she started sinking balls and raking in some spending money for her and Meg to blow. She didn’t have to hustle pool. Her friends at the bar did it for her. Newbies were warned, and the bets were never high . . . just drinks and pocket change.

It was fun, and in the end, everyone had a good time.

She pulled back on the cue a few times, lining up the balls. “How many times do I have to tell you . . .” She slammed the balls together and both a solid and a stripe managed to disappear in opposite pockets. One glance at the table and she set up three more shots . . . solids. She walked around to Rick’s side of the table, leaned over, and finished her sentence. “I’m not your babe.” She sank the four and stood with a grin. With her index finger, she pushed Rick out of her personal space, and offered him her ass as she banked the one ball into a corner pocket.
     



She couldn’t remember flirting this shamelessly, especially when she had no real intentions of making good on her sexual vibes. Flirting with Rick was fun, but the man screamed danger and she just didn’t do danger. Not even for one night.

The next shot wasn’t a given, it would take a bank and it would probably hit the striped ten ball on its way in . . . but if she hit the ten at ninety degrees, it might just work. Judy lined up her angles while everyone around the table grew silent.

She felt the weight of Rick’s stare as she tapped the ball and watched as it slowly hit her target and nearly stopped before sinking. She sighed and grinned.

“Damn, Utah . . . you are good.” Yet Rick’s smile didn’t waver.

“Warned ya, dude.” Jerry was the resident killjoy, making sure every opponent knew the risk of betting against her.

There wasn’t a decent shot on the table, so Judy made sure the white ball wasn’t in an optimal position for Rick to make an easy target.

Rick walked around the table, studied the balls. “Wanna up the bet, babe?”

Judy’s back teeth ground together. The term babe just wasn’t one she’d ever liked.

“What do you have in mind?”

“If you win, I’ll stop calling you babe.”

“And if you win?”

“A date . . . anytime, anywhere I choose.” He wasn’t even looking at her when he suggested it.

“A date?”

He chalked his cue. “Anytime, anywhere.”

“I have finals and graduation.”

“Those dates are exempt.”

Judy glanced at the table . . .

“Seems like a win-win to me,” Meg chimed in from the stool she sat on while sucking on her vodka tonic.

Judy rolled her eyes.

“OK, bad boy . . . you have yourself a bet.”

Noise from the bar caught her attention. A couple of guys were arguing about a game on the massive TV.

She turned around and focused on Rick.

“So.” He leaned over and without any real focus, sank the eleven, a shot she hadn’t seen. “You really don’t like being called babe.”

“I prefer Utah over babe.”

The fourteen was an easy hit, but he managed to bank it and shove the nine in an opposite pocket on the other side of the table.

Those around the table started exchanging dollars.

Rick’s next shot missed.

Judy pulled off her jacket and handed it to Meg. So he wanted to play hardball?

The seven practically took a protractor to line up, but down it went and up went Rick’s eyebrow. Her next shot missed, but so did Rick’s.

She managed the two ball and was feeling confident when Rick sank two in one shot . . . again.

The hell!

“So, they play a lot of pool in the service?” she asked.

He laughed. “Not really.” He lined up his last ball on the table. It went in with ease and Judy’s heart rate shot up. She didn’t really have a hundred bucks on her. They’d only been in the bar for a couple of games before Rick managed to make an appearance. And then there was the date on which she just knew he’d call her babe the entire time.

“So where did you learn to play?”

He paused . . . made eye contact. “Hustled pool when I was seventeen. Made a ton of money, too.”

Ahh damn.

Noise from behind them caught both their attention. Seemed the resident drunk didn’t like the ref’s call and was getting in someone else’s face about it.

Judy focused on the table, noted the position of the eight ball. In all its black glory, it hugged the side of the table. Rick would have to be a moron to miss the shot. She might as well have the name babe monogrammed on her towels now.

“What’s the matter, babe? You look upset.”

“You don’t know me well enough to know if I’m upset.”

Rick chuckled, leaned over, and pulled the cue back.

From the bar, glass crashed to the floor. Judy swiveled in time to see a chair sailing in the air. She was about to duck when strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her out of the line of fire.

Her lungs exploded and all the air inside pushed out and had her head spinning.

Rick tucked her head into his strong, thick shoulder at the same time she felt his body jerk. Around him, wood splintered and she heard Meg yell.

Judy dared to look and noticed the bar erupt in a full-blown fight. This had happened once before, right after she’d turned twenty-one, but that had been a couple of years ago.

“You OK?”

Green eyes accompanied a stern face . . . so different from the laughter that always seemed to dominate Rick’s expression. His entire body covered hers . . . from head to knee. She felt every hard edge of him. Every edge.

“Fine.”

Rick suddenly turned his face toward hers, and shoved her even farther under him. Glass splattered over them both.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Meg and their friends fleeing through the back door.

Noise filled the room and the sound of fists meeting flesh made Judy cringe.

Rick practically lifted her off the ground at the same time he pushed off the floor, his arm a vise grip on her waist.

The minute he was on his feet, someone threw a punch and was met with Rick’s elbow, followed by his foot, tossing the drunk aside.

“Back door?”

Judy pointed in the direction her friends had just exited and Rick ran with her out the exit.

They stumbled into the damp alley, and the cool spring night smacked up against her face.

Without meaning it, she found a smile on her face despite the sting to her arm where she’d met the ground with Rick’s tackle. His blow to the ground was better than a chair across her head.

“Are you all right?”

She started to laugh.

“Judy?”

She leaned forward, hands on her knees to catch her breath and stop her laughter. “Ever notice how every time we see each other something crazy happens?”

It took a minute, but Rick started to laugh along with her. “I’m going to blame you.”

“Easy to do since I live here and you’re visiting.”

She straightened and placed a hand to her sore elbow. Then she remembered her favorite jean jacket inside the bar. “Oh, damn.”

“What?”

“Nothing . . . my jacket . . . whatever.” It wasn’t worth going back in for.

“Judy?” Meg called her name from the street.

“We’re here.”

Two patrons exploded from the back door, and Rick once again pulled her away from the fists flying as the fight moved onto the street.

They jogged away from the chaos and met with Meg and two of their male friends.

“That’s one way to end the night!”

Judy blew out a long breath. “I have my final to work on anyway . . . what time is it?”

“Not even ten.”

Judy cocked her head to the side as her eyes met Rick’s. The man was such a contradiction. Soft green eyes, thick muscles . . . easy smile, fierce protective gene.

“That’s it!” That’s what her project needed. Soft lines and thick wood. God, it was in front of her the whole time. It was going to be brilliant. OK, maybe not brilliant, but over-the-top unique and nothing that had been done before . . . or so she hoped.

“Utah?”

Judy didn’t consciously realize that she’d lifted her hand and traced Rick’s arm. Soft and thick . . . she snapped her hand back when he reached to steady her.

“Did you hit your head?”

It ached, actually . . . but that was probably the noise from the bar spilling out and the excitement of knowing exactly what she needed to do for her final.
     



“No . . . I’m good. Meg?” She turned toward her friend. “We gotta go. My final . . . I know what I need to do.”

Meg shook her head and laughed.

Rick grasped her hand before she could sprint away. “About that date.”

Judy tugged away, pointed a finger in his direction. “You didn’t win, Green Eyes.”

“I didn’t lose, babe.”

Judy laughed. God, he annoyed her in a perfect kind of way. “Until a rematch then.” As Meg was pulling her away, Judy said, “Thanks for keeping my head from being kicked in.”

Rick stood in the alley, rain drizzling all around him as the fight from the bar moved into the street and sirens started from somewhere east of the alley. “Anytime, Utah.”

Judy turned and ran down the rainy street to the apartment she shared with Meg, all the while knowing that Rick watched her from behind.