Singe (Guardian Protection #1)

“What?” I breathed, swaying toward him.

His hand caught the back of my neck. “The third guy. That was me.”

My breath caught.

“One of your so-called friends is avoiding you. Another is talking shit behind your back. And another wants to fuck you so hard that his balls are aching.”

A fire consumed me as he right himself. The kind of fire that burned within and only he could extinguish.

“Jude,” I whispered.

He dropped his hand, but I still felt it on the back of my head as if he’d branded me. The sweetest burn of all.

“I’ll get your number from Lark and text you the details about Saturday.”

If the hummingbirds in my stomach were any indication, the second I opened my mouth, a short story was going to come out. I saved myself the embarrassment and him the time by going with a short nod.





“It’ll be fine,” she assured.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right,” I told the windshield of my Jeep as I drove toward Guardian.

Val’s hand landed on my forearm and she squeezed. “Seriously, Jude. Chill. I’m eleven. The worst that could happen is she allows me to watch an R-rated movie.”

Or my worst nightmare could become a reality and I’ll find you both hanging out of the balcony window with flames shooting out around you.

Lark, Leo, and Sarah all assured me that Rhion was the best of the best when it came to kids, but I was still on edge about leaving Val.

However, part of that probably had more to do with Val than it did Rhion.

Ever since I’d picked her up at the airport the night before, she’d been acting strange.

She was too quiet. Too withdrawn. Too…not Val.

My bubbly girl with the infectious smile I’d left in LA only a few weeks earlier was not at all the sullen preteen I’d met at the airport. Sure, she’d thrown her arms around my neck and hugged me just as hard as she always had, but that was where the similarities ended.

Valerie had always been thick. Her father was a three-hundred-pound former NFL linebacker. I’d figured it was genetic. It wasn’t as though she were a couch potato. She’d been a stand-out Little League softball player. However, when I’d met her at the arrival gate, it had been easy to see she’d put on a few pounds. That wasn’t the worrisome part though. For me, the alarm bells were ringing because she’d gained it so fast. It had only been weeks since I’d seen her last.

And then there was the fact that she’d had a stroke when I’d told her to change into something nice when we were getting ready to go to Rhion’s. My little girl, who used to love dresses and all things pink, had packed exactly three different outfits to come to my place for the long weekend: a gray track suit, a black track suit, and a navy-blue track suit. And every single one of them was a size too big.

Her hair was another huge difference. Val’s father was African American, and despite the fact that April had long, straight, blond hair, she’d gotten his dark curls. This time last year, Val would have spent an hour in the bathroom with a million different products and tools, straightening her hair into sleek locks that looked like her mom’s. Now, it was pulled up into a ponytail, which I couldn’t swear she had combed.

I knew she got enough shit about her appearance from her mother, so I’d decided to keep my opinions to myself, but I would talk to April about it the first chance I got.

“Smartass, I let you watch R-rated movies.”

She smiled up at me. “I know. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

God, I’d missed that smile. At least that was still the same.

“So listen, there’s something I need to tell you about Rhion.”

She ducked away from me until I lost my hold on her neck. “What kind of stupid name is Rhion for a girl anyway? That’s a boy’s name.”

“Hey,” I scolded, flicking my gaze to her. “Don’t call someone’s name stupid. She didn’t get to pick it any more than you did Valerie.”

“Whatever. It’s still stupid,” she mumbled under her breath as she stared out the window.

“Don’t whatever me. You know good and damn well that is not how we talk about people.”

“Right. Sorry,” she muttered sarcastically at the window.

Christ, if this was eleven, the real teenage years were going to be a bitch.

“All right. What’s going on with you? I bit my tongue when you ignored me all morning to play on your phone, but now…”

She didn’t even turn to look at me.

“Val,” I called.

She continued to ignore me.

I raised my voice. “Valerie!”

Nothing.

I squeezed the ticklish spot right above her knee.

“Stop!” she laughed, swatting my hand away.

“Oh, look. There she is!” I teased. “Glad you could finally join me.”

She laughed for a second longer before sobering. In a snotty voice, she snipped, “That was completely uncalled for.”

I barked a loud laugh. “Holy hell, you sound like your mother.”

She started giggling all over again. “I know! I’ve been perfecting that one all week.” She shimmied up straighter in her seat. “Listen to this one.” She dramatically cleared her throat. “Good Lord, Valerie. Take that hat off. You look like Justin Bieber.” Then she finished in April’s voice with, “Only fat and with no style.”

I sucked in a sharp breath and kept my hand on her knee as my other clamped hard around steering wheel. That chat with April just got moved up from the first chance I got to the minute I could get Val out of earshot.

“You’re beautiful,” I said immediately. “Your mom… She’s…”

I knew that April had talked crap about me after the divorce, but I’d refused to ever follow her down that path. Especially where Val was concerned. But how did I say, Your mother is a raving, self-centered bitch who doesn’t deserve to stand in the same room with you, much less be called a mom, without it sounding bad?

“So, what do I need to know about Rhion?” she asked when I didn’t finish my thought.

I gritted my teeth and did my best to keep the blistering rage out of my voice as I growled, “Your mom’s wrong.”

She once again attempted to steer the conversation away from her. “I guess Rhion could be a girl’s name. How’s she spell it?”

“Val,” I bit out as I pulled into the underground garage at Guardian. After putting the Jeep in park, I undid my seatbelt and twisted in my seat to face her. Leaning my back against the door, I ordered, “Look at me.”

Her dark-brown gaze lifted to mine, and it felt like a razor blade slicing through me.

Tears sparkled in her eyes as she whispered, “I don’t want to talk about Mom anymore.”