Carmichael Security: The Complete Series

Chapter One

Zayne

"Crap, crap, crap."

I hide a smile behind my coffee as the curvy, raven-haired beauty picks her way across our tiled lobby in heels, wobbling like a young girl trying the shoes on for the first time. She huffs and mumbles to herself the whole time, complaining that she should have worn normal-people shoes. It's cute as hell.

I don't know why the fuck she is, but she's had my interest since she stumbled through the doors. She's stunning in a way that has my dick trying to forget that my brother is standing right beside me, prattling on about some new client.

Shit. Is she who Zion's been telling me about? I stopped listening long before she wobbled in.

But if she needs protection, I'm all over her. I mean it.

"Who is she? I want to protect her," I say, interrupting whatever the fuck Zion's saying about Adrian Kane, who used to play football for the Titans. What he has to do with anything, I don't know. He lives in a tiny town in Florida. That's not exactly close to Nashville. I'm all for expanding our private security firm, but I don't think Spring, Florida, is the location we're looking for.

Zion finally clues in on the fact that I'm not listening to a word he says and gives up talking my ear off. I don't know why he tries to tell me any of this shit anyway. I never listen.

I spent half of my life in the military. We weren't paid to ask questions. We were paid to solve problems. I don't need to know who I'm protecting. I just need to know what I'm protecting them from.

I'm not a stupid man. I'm just a simple one. Give me a job, and I'll get it done. If they want someone to blow smoke up their asses or sugar-coat the truth, I'm not the guy for the job. But if they want to make it out alive, I'm the one they call. I don't need to know a client's life story to do what needs doing.

I'm not soft and sweet. I never have been. But I know about eighty ways to kill a man. At the end of the day, that's what counts in my book.

Besides, we've got Gideon for clients who require a softer touch. He may look mean enough to spit nails, but he can make anyone feel safe.

Zion's exasperated sigh tells me maybe I should have been paying attention this time.

"I swear to Christ, Zayne. One of these fucking days, you'll actually listen to me."

"Well, that day ain't today, motherfucker." I smirk at him before taking another sip of my coffee. "Doubt it'll be the day hell freezes over, either."

He raises his hand to scratch the side of his face with his middle finger before he steps forward to meet our guest, leaving me standing there to stare at her.

I take the time to admire every inch of her. Coal-black hair tumbles in waves down her back, framing her heart-shaped face and the bluest eyes I've ever seen. Her shirt only has one sleeve, leaving her other arm and shoulder bare. Her skin looks soft as hell. And if her jeans hugged her curvy ass any tighter, it'd be a war crime.

Fuck me. She's pretty.

"Emma Cooper?"

My little lamb startles, nearly tripping over her own two feet.

My little lamb? What the fuck?

"Yes. Hi," she squeaks, a pretty blush painting her cheeks. "Um, are you Gideon?"

Our middle brother, Gideon, took a last-minute meeting with a country musician in need of security for some charity event.

"Zion," he says, extending his hand.

"The one Ma was supposed to swallow," I say loud enough for Zion's hearing aid to pick up.

She takes his hand, her gaze bouncing to me and then back. Shit. I think she heard me, too.

I hold her gaze, unrepentant. If she had two younger brothers, she'd probably wish her mom had swallowed them, too.

"Ignore him," Zion suggests, turning to scowl at me over his shoulder. "Everyone else does."

Ignore me? Oh, hell no.

I plop my cup down on the edge of my desk and stomp forward, not willing to be ignored this time. If she's here to hire us, my schedule is suddenly clear as glass. Gideon can have Adrian Kane or whoever Zion wants us to babysit next.

We have a rule about dating clients. It's something we all agreed we wouldn't fucking do. Ironic, considering none of us have even dated in longer than any of us should probably admit. But if this lamb needs help, I need to solve the problem quickly. The "no dating" rule doesn't apply to former clients.

"Hi, Ms. Cooper," I say, elbowing Zion out of the way. "My name is Zayne Carmichael. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Hi," she whispers, her gaze darting from me to Zion and then back. I don't miss the way the pulse in her throat jumps as she looks at me. It damn sure doesn't do that when she looks at my little brother though little may be a misnomer. The fucker is bigger than I am.

I hold my hand out for hers. As soon as she places hers into mine, every nerve ending in my body lights up, overloading my system with information. I process it in flickers of sensation, not sure what the fuck any of it means. But the overriding urge to lay claim to this woman like some marauder of old that I understand. The desire screams to life, grabbing me by the balls.

The need to protect her at all costs is equally as strong, demanding I keep her safe above all else.

I bring her hand to my lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

"You're safe now, lamb," I growl against her skin. "No one is going to hurt you."

She startles, her blue eyes going comically wide.

"Jesus Christ," Zion mutters. "You really don't listen, do you?"

"To you? Never. Why don't you go handle something that needs handlin', and I'll help Ms. Cooper get the intake paperwork completed?"

"Hurt me? Intake paperwork?" Emma tries to untangle her hand from mine. I hold onto it, reluctant to let her go. She's the softest thing I've ever felt, and she smells like sunshine. I didn't even know that was possible, but here we are. "Could you please let me go?"

"No."

Her pouty lips fall open in shock.

"Pretty sure you can't just touch her without permission, brother," Zion says, wry amusement lacing his tone. "It's illegal in all fifty states."

"I'm not touchin' her. I'm holding her hand."

"It's the same thing," Emma whispers.

"Nah, lamb. If I were touching you, my brother wouldn't be standin' here. I'm just keeping you safe."

Zion gapes at me like I've lost my mind.

Shit, maybe I have because I hear how batshit I sound, yet my reasoning seems perfectly rational in my mind. I don't want to let her go, and keeping her hand in mine seems like the perfect way to accomplish that.

But judging from the concerned look on Emma's face and the shit-eating grin on my brother's, I'm way off base here.

"I mean, of course, I'll let you go if you want." I reluctantly release her hand, trying to get my brain firing on all cylinders again. Jesus. I can't think through the clamor in my head.

"Thank you," she says, quickly thrusting her hand behind her back like she's afraid I'll make a play to steal it back.

"I'd say the pleasure is all mine, but it'd be a lie. Your hand is soft as hell. I much preferred when I was holdin' it."

"Jesus Christ. I cannot believe Gideon isn't here to see this shit."

"Zion? Fuck off," I growl.

He walks away, laughing to himself.

Emma looks like she's debating whether she wants to run after him.

I decide I should probably get this conversation back on solid ground before I scare her off entirely. "What is it you're needin' protection for, lamb?"

"You don't understand, Mr. Carmichael."

"Zayne."

"What?"

"My name is Zayne, baby girl."

"You don't understand, Zayne," she says, emphasizing my name in a way that makes me want to kiss the annoyed furrow from her brow. "Maybe you should listen to your brother more."

"Why? He never says anything interesting. He definitely didn't mention you being a client." That might be a lie, but I'm willing to risk my eternal soul here.

"Maybe because I'm not a client."

Thank God for small favors.

"Good. Then we can get the dating shit out of the way so I can put my ring on your finger." I grin, liking the way this is playing out. It's better than breaking the one rule my brothers and I agreed on when we started the firm. "Are you free tonight?"

"What? No." I'd be offended by the horrified look on her face if it weren't so fucking cute.

"Tomorrow night, then."

"I'm not dating you!" she cries, exasperated. "I'm here to pick up the contracts for Camila."

"Who?" I stare at her blankly.

"Camila Gomes, the publicist? She just hired your firm to provide security at events for her clients?"

Shit. Maybe I should listen to Zion more often because if this is what he was trying to tell me before Emma walked in, I heard none of it. And I don't remember Gideon mentioning it, either.

"And you work for Camila?"

"I'm her assistant," Emma says, her tone prime and fucking adorable.

Well, then it looks like Camila Gomes just hired me to personally oversee security at events. Because if Emma Cooper will be there, I damn sure will.