Chapter 10 Rosco
ROSCO
Fucking hell! This is my own damn fault. I knew better than to pull into the parking lot of Baby Girl’s instead of going straight to the address Luke had given me for the event. I can’t seem to keep myself from looking out for the brown-haired temptress.
Rachel Miller has driven me wild with need from the first moment I laid eyes on her. When I’d caught her scent at Mrs. Cruise’s luncheon, I was a goner. She has invaded my thoughts and even my dreams.
I’ve had a hard-on for months that I haven’t been able to slake.
Not that I’ve sought out someone to help me with it, and my hand just hasn’t given me the relief I need.
I know what I need to ease it, but I refuse to go there.
Rachel deserves better. I know once I’ve crossed that line I won’t be able to hold back.
I’m unsure if I’d ever be able to let her go, and I can’t do that to her.
I’ve been a grumpy-ass due to my frustration.
Another reason I’ve been avoiding being around the damn siren.
Even though I know it would be better for both of us if she hated me, I don’t want her to.
My brothers have noticed my mood and lack of female companionship, which has only made matters worse.
They’ve taken every opportunity to goad me about it and push me to admit I want Rachel.
I should’ve texted Celeste, a friend-with-benefits I’ve had for a while, for a hook up, but it feels wrong. I can’t stand the thought of fucking anyone other than her. What the hell is wrong with me?
When I’d pulled into Baby Girl’s and seen Rachel about to climb into that POS, ancient van she drives, I’d seen red. My imagination had run wild. I’d imagined her van breaking down, leaving her on the side of the road, and some psycho killer stopping to help. I’d never see her again.
So I’d done the only thing I could. I’d demanded she ride with me.
Then she’d sassed me, and I’d thought for sure I’d come in my pants.
Her tantalizing scent had been all around me, which had short circuited my brain.
I’d had her over my shoulder and seated in my truck before I’d had time to process what I’d done.
Now I’m stuck in my truck, breathing her in, and I’m aching so bad in more ways than one.
She’s physically killing me with her scent, and when she sasses me, fuck it’s too much.
I want to pull over on the side of the road and turn her over my lap to swat those lush ass cheeks.
I can just picture her creamy skin pinkening from my hand.
My cock is straining against the fabric of my clothes so painfully.
I reach down to adjust things to a more comfortable position.
Her head drops as she takes in my movement.
“Are you not going to answer?” Damn! She’s persistent, like a dog with a bone. I sigh heavily, debating how to answer.
“What does it matter?” I deflect instead, which earns me a scowl. She flops away from me in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest to stare out the window.
“Don’t pout,” I goad, all the while wanting to kick my own ass for saying that last part. I need to leave her alone not continue to engage in a conversation that will get us nowhere. She already thinks I’m an asshole.
Do I really want to reinforce that impression? Yeah, that’s exactly what I need to do. It’s better she despises me than to believe there could ever be anything between us. Yet I don’t want her to hate me.
“I’m not pouting,” she retorts. “I’m brooding over the fact that a tyrant has kidnapped me then pretends I don’t exist. I just don’t understand you.”
“There’s nothing to understand,” I tell her. “I’m a simple man. I look out for my family. They are what’s most important.”
“I’m not your family,” she accuses. “So why are you ‘looking out’ for me?” Her hands lift to either side of her head while her fingers curl to make air quotes.
“You work for Marley and Shelby,” I begin. “They love you like a sister. So by association, you are family. I believe we’ve had this discussion before.” She snorts, shaking her head.
“Whatever.” She turns back to stare out the window.
The rest of the drive passes in an uncomfortable silence.
We arrive at the address I’d been given for the event.
I pull in behind the second van. The driveway is blocked by a gate next to a large box with a buzzer.
Jason presses the button. I can just barely hear him say, “Baby Girl’s Catering. We have three vehicles.”
After a brief pause, the gate opens as a voice comes from the box. “Park around back.”
I follow the vans around to the back of the home and park behind them. Rachel is out before I can get the truck in park. Rolling my eyes, begging whatever deity will listen to me for patience with this woman, I exit my truck.
My eyes scan the area. The event is to be held on the back lawn of a large Tudor style home. I take note of the trees surrounding the edge of the lawn, watching closely for any signs of someone hiding in them.
Rachel is directing the staff with the unloading of the vans.
A large white tent has been erected on one side of the massive estate’s lawn, while multiple round tables covered with white tablecloths and chairs surrounding have been set up in nearly every available space.
I take note of what appears to be an armed guard at the gate where Rachel and the others are carrying the food through to the venue site. What the hell?
The man holds up his hand when Rachel and Cindy, another of the servers, reach him.
I stalk closer to over hear the conversation.
“I need to see some identification,” the man grumbles.
Rachel pulls out her wallet to show him her driver’s license and a business card from Baby Girl’s Catering.
The man scrutinizes both documents a moment before nodding and allowing the women through the gate.
When Jason, Matthew, and I approach, the man studies us, taking in our builds and how we carry ourselves. He again holds up his hand. “What are you gentleman doing here? Do you have an invitation? If so, you’re a little early.” I step forward to represent the group.
“We are here with Baby Girl’s Catering,” I tell him, simply and hand him my ID.
“We’re the muscle, you might say.” I keep my face blank and stance loose, ready for whatever might be about to take place.
I’m concerned this client seems to have their own bodyguards.
Something we weren’t informed about. Something is off.
I have a bad feeling about this whole thing. The man glares at me a moment.
“Look you are clearly here for your boss’s protection.
We are here to ensure our servers are protected.
It’s as simple as that.” The man nods, considering what I’ve said.
He turns away and speaks into a comms unit, after a brief pause, he indicates we can follow.
I scan the lawn and back of the house and clock at least four more men who I’d bet my last dollar are also armed. They seem to be patrolling the estate.
Rachel, Cindy, and another server who’s name I can’t remember are heading back out to the vans for more supplies.
I place a hand on Rachel’s upper arm to halt her progress.
“You are not to leave my sight, do you understand me?” I mandate, infusing a commanding tone into my voice.
Rachel stiffens. Her chin tipping up in defiance.
“What the hell is your problem?” she hisses, jerking her arm from my grasp.
“I have a job to do. I won’t let you keep me from doing it.
Marley and Shelby are trusting me to handle this event, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.
Stay out of my way.” She steps around me and stomps off toward the vans.
This woman is going to be the death of me. She clearly isn’t going to listen to a damn thing. I growl in frustration while following her back out to the van. I’m about to have it out with her, but I pause to watch her at work.
Rachel is directing the staff like a pro. I stand back to watch her in action, awestruck. She has everyone on task and organized. She pulls a long, heavy tray out of the van. I move up to take it from her, putting the argument we need to have off for the time being.
I can see her indecision, not wanting to let me help her, but at last she relents.
I take the tray, stepping back for her to lead me where to go with it, but she turns back pulling an equally heavy tray from the back before striding toward the large tent.
I follow along behind, secretly impressed with her tenacity.
It doesn’t take us long to have everything unloaded and organized to Rachel’s satisfaction. The hostess’s staff shows us to the kitchen where the final preparations will be done before the event gets underway.
I send Jason and Matthew to make a sweep of the perimeter. I have a foreboding feeling that isn’t going away. I learned a long time ago to trust my gut. Why would the hostess have armed guards?
A few hours later, everything seems to be going well. Jason and Matthew have been reporting in every fifteen minutes and nothing seems to be amiss, other than Jason has confirmed all of the guards are armed.
By some miracle, I’ve managed to keep Rachel close, much to her annoyance. I’d texted Enos early this morning reminding him to join us, but he hasn’t arrived yet. The luncheon is almost over. Where the hell is he? I text Enos, again, to check his ETA.
Me: Where u be?
Enos: On the way. I had something to take care of.
Me: Kristen again? What the hell are you doing with her anyway?
Enos: Stay out of it! I have everything under control. We’ll be there soon. Where’s the fire anyway?
I chose to drop it for now. I have more urgent matters than that lying, betraying, backstabber.
Me: What do we know about these people?
Enos: Not much, but initial background check was clean. Why?
Me: There are armed guards watching the place. It’s discreet, but I know what I’m seeing. I have a bad feeling.
Enos: I’ll have Kelvin pull up the file on them and deep dive. Should be there in fifteen.
Looking up, I pocket my phone and scan the kitchen in search of Rachel, but she’s nowhere to be found.
Fuck! I told her not to leave my sight. I should have known she wasn’t going to listen.
“Where’s Rachel?” I ask Cindy heatedly.
“I’m not sure, exactly,” Cindy answers with a shrug. “She went to look for a bathroom.”
I storm out of the kitchen, determined to find her and remind her who’s in charge. Marley and Shelby might trust her to take care of things, but I’m in charge of her safety. She will come to learn that and let me do my job, or so help me, I’ll spank that ass like I’ve been dreaming about.
I turn a corner at the end of a hall running into Jason as I go. “Have you seen Rachel?” I question. He frowns shaking his head.
“No, not in a while,” his tone sounding concerned, his face turning serious. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I say blowing out a breath. “Maybe I’m just paranoid, but I’ve had an uneasy feeling since we arrived and saw the guy guarding the gate is packing, not to mention the other men we’ve seen roaming the estate.”
“Yeah, my hackles have been up, too,” Jason replies. “What do you think is going on here?”
“No idea, but that’s what I’d like to know,” I answer shaking my head.
“Why would the hostess need armed guards? If she’s in danger, why continue with a public event like this?
Moreover if she needed a bodyguard, why didn’t she hire Invictus to head up her security?
” Jason’s face pinches as he considers my words.
“Maybe she already had a security company?” He speculates, but his tone conveys his uncertainty with that possibility.
“Perhaps, but why didn’t she mention it when she hired Baby Girl’s?” Jason shrugs his shoulders. “We should have been informed, especially if the woman is in some kind of danger so we could better protect our staff.”
“I agree, but you never know what people are thinking. I’ll head outside and take a look around,” Jason says. I need to find Rachel, now. My unease is growing by the second. “All right, I’m going to keep looking for her in here. Cindy said she was looking for a bathroom.”
Turning to my left, I head in the opposite direction Jason had come from. I’m going to find my angel, come hell or high water.