The Hitman Next Door: A Texas Bounty Novel Page 20

  He was staking a claim, that was clear. Letting everyone know she was his and that he wouldn’t tolerate any disrespect, as did his steely-eyed glare that could just about level the building.

  She squeezed his hand, subtly giving him an ‘it’s okay, you can dial it back a notch’ signal. Which he ignored. Typical. “Hi,” Vivi said, ignoring Rhys standing beside her radiating stern disapproval. “It’s great finally put some faces to the names.”

  “Oh, hey,” Rose said, looking down at her watch. “If you hang around another five minutes, Rush said he’d be—”

  “She’s not meeting Rush,” Rhys interrupted firmly. “At least not yet.” He turned and began walking down the hallway, pulling Vivi with him. “Come down this way and I’ll show you my office.”

  “I’ve never heard it called that before,” Rose called after them.

  Vivi grinned apologetically at the rest of the team as they all stood there watching as Rhys dragged her into his office and shut the door very firmly after them.

  Then he gripped her by the hips and tugged her to him, kissing her hungrily.

  Two weeks of as much sex as she could handle, and one touch and she still went up in flames…

  Vivi sighed and leaned against him. “It’s okay, you know. I’m not a defenseless baby animal you have to defend from predators.”

  The stern look in his eyes faded. “I know. But they can be a rude bunch of fuckers and I—”

  “I can handle it,” she interrupted gently. “I saved your ass after all, remember?”

  He narrowed his gaze at her. “I’m not likely to forget that.”

  “And you won’t.” She smoothed down his shirt, loving the feeling of his hard chest beneath the cotton. “I’m going to trot that one out for the rest our lives.”

  His gaze became even narrower.

  Vivi smiled. “Aw, don’t be like that. Anyway, it’ll be my turn to be all stern and possessive tonight at Hale, James and Associates after work drinks. Where I get to show you off as my trophy boyfriend.”

  A slight crease appeared between his brows. “Are you sure about that? Your father wasn’t too happy about us getting together.”

  No, he hadn’t been. But she knew why. Her father was concerned about her pulling out of her bid for partnership and thought that Rhys was the problem. And her dad was kind of right, Rhys was the reason she was withdrawing. But only because they’d been talking through some stuff and she’d decided she didn’t want to be a partner after all.

  Rhys had told her, in his usual direct way, that she should be working for herself. There had been arguments about that, including a tough talk about money, because God knew she didn’t have the cash to set up her own practice.

  But it turned out Rhys had an answer to that, too. He had money, a lot of money, and she hadn’t wanted anything to do with it at first since she knew where it had come from, but again, his logic had been irrefutable. He’d wanted the money used for something good, something that would make a difference: her own family law practice to help kids in the foster system.

  She hadn’t been able to argue with that, the sneaky bastard.

  “Dad will be fine,” she said. “Are you worried about it?”

  The slight crease deepened. “Do I look worried?”

  “No. You look hot.” She shifted against him. “Do you think your work friends would mind if….” She trailed off, giving him a meaningful look as her fingers found the top button of his shirt and undid it.

  His gaze drifted down, to where the necklace she never took off glittered against her throat, and his mouth turned up, and it wasn’t minute this time. It was a gorgeous smile, that just about stopped Vivi’s heart in her chest.

  “No,” he said and lifted his dark gaze to hers. “I don’t think they’d mind a bit.”

  Excerpt from Big Bad Marine - Texas Bounty #5

  Chapter 1

  * * *

  West O’Connor didn’t like saying no to women. Especially beautiful women. Most of the time he was right into doing whatever they wanted, because whatever they wanted was usually what he wanted too. Plus he was an old-fashioned Texas gentleman. He was into courtesy and being respectful – at least outside the bedroom. Inside, it was a whole different ballgame. Inside, he was—

  But hell, he was getting distracted. He was an old fashioned guy who had a hell of a lot of respect for Duchess, AKA Lily Hammond, owner of Duchess Bail Bonds, the bounty hunting agency he worked for. And he pretty much never said no to her.

  Except for now.

  “No,” said West.

  Duchess, tall, slender and perfectly put together in a white pencil skirt and pretty ice-blue blouse, leaned back against her desk and folded her arms, a frown marring her smooth pale forehead. “Please.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Just once.”

  “I said no.” He did not look at the other person in the room, the woman perched on the end of Duchess’s desk wearing the shortest denim mini in the history of creation, a tight black tank that showcased the most impressive rack he’d seen in, oh, probably at least since the last time he saw it all of half an hour ago, and sky-high, black platform sandals on her pretty little feet.

  “I don’t like to say I told you so, buuuut….” Rose Hammond, Duchess’s younger sister and the most irritating woman on the planet, sighed theatrically and shook her head, setting her blonde curls bouncing.

  Duchess didn’t look at her, either. “Rose,” she said. “Would you mind?”

  “Would I mind what?”

  “Would you mind leaving?”

  Rose snorted and sent West a look from underneath her lashes. He guessed it was supposed to be flirtatious – everything Rose did was flirtatious – yet she couldn’t quite disguise the anger glittering in her bright blue eyes.

  He only stared blandly back.

  He put up with a lot because Duchess was his friend and the woman who’d basically saved him from plunging headfirst into a vodka bottle. And he’d known Rose since she was a not-so-sweet sixteen-year-old getting mad because her older sister wouldn’t let her go out or do anything. Over the years, he’d done a fair bit of babysitting said sulky teenager, and he’d never minded it.

  But she wasn’t a teenager anymore and he minded today.

  He absolutely fucking minded today.

  Rose made another impatient sound then pushed herself off the desk. “Fine, I’m going.” As she passed by the chair West was sprawled in, she gave him a cheeky wink and an extra butt wiggle before leaving the room, closing the door not softly, but not loud enough to count as a slam.

  “I know,” Duchess said, after Rose had gone. “She’s a handful.”

  “She’s a pain in the ass,” West amended.

  “That, too. Which is why I think you should take her on this job.”

  West tried not to roll his eyes and failed. “How many more times do I have to say it? She’s too young and too inexperienced. She never does what she’s told and she’s way too fucking unpredictable. Tracking this skip isn’t going to be easy and with her along, it’ll be damn near impossible.”

  There were a host of reasons he didn’t want Rose on this job, only one of which was that he’d spent years trying to nail down this particular prick, and he did not want anything to screw it up. Anything being Rose.

  The other reasons he wasn’t going to think about. Perhaps not ever.

  Duchess’s icy-blue gaze didn’t waver. “I get that, believe me. But I honestly think that half of Rose’s problem is boredom. She’s smart, West, you know that. And she’s been wanting to be a real part of this agency for a year or so.” She paused. “I think it’s time.”

  West scowled. “Get Nora to take her out. Chicks together, they can have a bonding moment.”

  “I respect Nora, but she’s not as experienced as you are. You have years under your belt and you’ve got a great instinct. I trust Rose with you.” Duchess’s gaze was sharp. “If it’s about her crush—”

 
“It’s not about the crush,” he cut her off impatiently. “She doesn’t follow orders and she’s unpredictable. I can’t have that on this trip.” Which wasn’t quite true, or at least, the crush part wasn’t. Because the crush was an issue. He’d known for a long time that Rose had a thing for him, a thing she made no effort to hide. She didn’t exactly shout it to the heavens, but what with her short skirts and her low cut tops, the wicked, flirtatious glances and sassy little comebacks, it had always been very, very obvious.

  Normally, he handled it by ignoring her completely, but in the last month or so, she’d suddenly started becoming even more persistent, including sending him sexy text messages.

  But Rose being persistent wasn’t even the real problem.

  The real problem was him. Her constant attention seeking hadn’t used to bother him, yet now he found himself more and more bothered.

  Extremely fucking bothered.

  Which was a bad thing all round for a yet another host of reasons, only one of which involved not wanting to take Rose with him to Vegas.

  As if on cue, the phone in his pocket chimed loudly.

  West made no move to look at it. He knew who it was.

  “I could pay you extra,” Duchess offered, a slight crease between her brows. “Danger money if you like.”

  “You couldn’t pay me enough to take her,” he said, then gritted his teeth as his phone chimed again.

  The crease between Duchess’s brows deepened. “Are you going to get that?

  “No.”

  His phone chimed a third time. Holy shit.

  Duchess’s mouth thinned. “Sounds like a lot of texts, West. Why don’t you get them?”

  He didn’t want to, because he knew exactly what kind of texts he was getting. He’d been receiving them every day for the past month and all from Rose.

  “They can wait,” he said grimly.

  Then his phone chimed a fourth time, helpfully reminding him that he had unread texts waiting for him.

  Duchess waved a hand. “Go on, read them. I’m not going to be able to continue this if your damn phone keeps interrupting.”

  Dammit. That little girl out there was getting to be an even bigger pain in his backside than she already was. She needed a goddamn spanking. Stat.

  Best not think about spanking that delicious ass.

  Fuck.

  Grinding his teeth and forcing certain, specific thoughts from his head, West reached into his pocket and glanced down at the screen, and sure enough, there were three texts from Rose.

  Time for your daily underwear status update!

  Today’s status is: white cotton lace. With bows!

  Hipster briefs and thanks for asking.

  White. Cotton. Lace. With bows.

  The blood in his veins began to pool in a certain part of his anatomy. A part of his anatomy he definitely didn’t want it pooling in, not with Duchess in the room.

  Fuck and fuck again.

  Jaw tight, West muted the phone and stuck it back in his pocket before Duchess could see what kind of texts her sister had been sending him. She would not approve, that was for damn sure. Not that he did. He’d already told Rose to stop and she hadn’t paid the slightest bit of notice, which in another woman he would have taken as an invitation. An invitation he would have had no hesitation taking her up on.

  But not Rose. There was no way he was taking up any of the invitations she kept issuing.

  West scowled at nothing in particular, trying not to think about white lace and tiny bows. Or about the red thong she’d told him she was wearing the day before. Or the black lace pair with the silver star over the crotch. No, he wasn’t thinking about those. Not in the slightest.

  “West,” Duchess said, looking at him, and he cursed under his breath because she had that expression in her eyes. The one he could never resist, that was far more likely to get him to do what she wanted than any kind of order ever could. “I’m asking this as a personal favor. As a friend.”

  He could never resist a beautiful woman. Especially a beautiful woman who was his friend and to whom he owed a hell of a lot.

  And Lily Hammond, the smartest, savviest woman he’d ever met, knew it.

  He sighed. “That’s underhanded and sneaky.”

  She stared back, unrepentant. “She’s my sister. I think this could be good for her. And I don't know, maybe you can teach her a few lessons.”

  Sadly the lessons currently occupying West’s brain had nothing whatsoever to do with hunting skips, and were very definitely not ones he should be teaching Duchess’s younger sister.

  Perhaps he needed to go through his extensive little black book and see if he couldn’t find himself a partner for the night, let off some steam. Because God knew he could use it.

  He shifted in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. “She doesn’t need a teacher. She needs some goddamn discipline.” Which was fine talk coming from him, considering his preferences for dealing out said discipline. He also had a little problem with authority and didn’t do what anyone told him, either. Back in the Marines, when he’d been an officer, he’d had no issues with telling other people what to do. He still didn’t. It was the following orders part he didn’t like.

  Duchess pulled a face, her delicate features creasing. “Yes, I know. Well, maybe you could give her a few tips on that too.”

  Now you’re talking. Lots of ways to teach Miss Rose Hammond a bit of discipline…

  Jesus. Would his goddamn brain shut the fuck up?

  Rose was off limits permanently and forever even if he had wanted to go there and he definitely didn’t want to go there. Not only was she Duchess’s little sister, she was also only twenty-one, nearly fifteen years younger than he was, and he wasn’t a pervert. Plus she was a brat. He liked his women uncomplicated and Rose had complicated written all over her.

  “I’m not her damn teacher,” he muttered grouchily.

  “I know you’re not.” Duchess lifted a hand and rubbed her brow, as if she had a headache. “Look, to be honest, I’ve got a few things…on at the moment and I need her out of my hair for a bit.”

  Instantly, his irritation lessened and he sat forward, narrowing his gaze, his protective instincts kicking in hard. Duchess had been looking tired the past couple of days and her usual wry humor was missing. It worried him. Bail bonds wasn’t an easy industry to be in and keeping the company afloat was a constant struggle.

  Didn’t help that there was plenty of competition.

  “What things?” he asked. “That Redmond asshole been making a nuisance of himself?”

  That ‘Redmond asshole’ being Quinn Redmond and owner of Lone Star Bounty, a rival fugitive recovery firm. Quinn and his brothers seemed to be constantly up in Duchess’s business and West didn’t much like it. Especially not Quinn Redmond’s hot green stare that seemed to follow Duchess everywhere whenever the two of them were in the room.

  West wasn’t jealous – he and Duchess didn’t have that kind of relationship – but he was protective, especially considering Duchess’s past, and Quinn Redmond was a prick with a capital P as far as West was concerned.

  “No. It’s got nothing to do with them.” Her hand dropped from her forehead and she gave him a warning glance. “It’s got nothing to do with you either.”

  “Hey, I was only—”

  “I know what you were only. I don’t like that protective alpha-male crap and I especially don’t like it from you, understand?”

  West eased back in his chair again. Yeah, when she started getting pissed with him for wanting to make sure she was okay, it meant something was up. Something she didn’t want to worry anyone about.

  Duchess had spent a long time getting herself back on her feet after her fucking asshole of an ex had taken just about everything from her, and since then she’d always been ruthlessly independent. She didn’t give her trust lightly and she absolutely refused help.

  It drove him nuts. But insisting never
worked with her, and so he’d learned to take the laid-back, easy-going approach. To be fair, that didn’t work much either, but he did it anyway since standing by whenever people needed help had never been an option he liked.

  “Come on, you know I’m only trying to help,” he said easily. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”

  Duchess gave him a narrow look. “If you want to help, take Rose to Vegas with you.”

  West tilted his head, met Duchess’s icy blue gaze, and silently contemplated his options.

  This particular job was important to him and not one he wanted some dewy-eyed or trigger happy newbie on, and most definitely not Rose.

  It concerned an asshole called Ian Jenkins, who’d once been a military buddy of West’s. Until West had brought the guy home one day and Jenkins had repaid him by raping Wests’s younger sister, Carly. Her life had never been the same after that and neither had West’s. She’d gotten into drugs in a big way, while he, consumed with guilt for introducing Jenkins to her in the first place, had left the military and gotten to be great friends with his old pal vodka.

  It was only when Duchess had found him that he’d pulled himself out of it. But he’d never forgotten Jenkins and he’d never forgiven, and he’d been waiting a long time for the moment when the guy would slip up. Because when he did, West would be there to take him down.

  Now, that moment was finally at hand. West had known Jenkins had gotten heavily into drugs after he’d gotten out of the military, but then the guy had gone out of state and disappeared off the radar for a while, irritating West no end. But he’d continued to try and track him, watching, keeping a look out for his name, and at last it had turned up.

  Jenkins had been arrested about a month ago on assault charges and, predictably enough since the bastard never took responsibility for anything, had skipped bail. Which was exactly the opportunity West had been waiting for. He’d told Duchess that Duchess Bail Bonds would be taking on Jenkins’ bond and that West would personally bring the guy in, and there would be no arguing about it.