Protect Me (Bodyguard Bad Boys #3)

Chapter One

Talia

I mentally run through my to-do list, pleased with the outcome. Laundry folded and waiting to be put away. Dishwasher unloaded. All other household tasks complete with the afternoon to spare. I rarely take more than one day off a week from my job at Newton Laboratories, so chores tend to pile up.

Not that I have anything else to do. Work comes first, and it usually leaves little time for anything… or anyone else. I’m not complaining. I happily live and breathe my research.

I carry the full laundry basket into the bedroom, placing it on the bed just as my cell phone rings. My assistant’s name flashes on the screen, and I answer his call.

“Hi, Chris.”

Christopher Eldridge is the best assistant I’ve ever had. He works the same long hours I do without complaint and is as dedicated to our current research as I am. Although my reasons are more personal.

“Chris?” I say again when he remains silent, only the sound of breathing on the other end.

“I’m at the lab, and something’s wrong,” he says in a hushed whisper that isn’t at all like his normal moderate tone.

I narrow my gaze. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“Someone else is here, and everything is—” Dead silence follows.

“Chris?” I ask again, but the call obviously was cut off.

That is odd, I think, nerves prickling along my skin. It isn’t unusual for Chris or me to go into work on a Sunday, but his low, raspy voice and the panicked tone, along with the insistence that something is wrong, aren’t normal at all.

I wish I wasn’t so paranoid, but I come by it naturally.

My mentor, Dr. Jonah Goodwin, was suspicious to the extreme, and he hammered into me the need to take precautions with every experiment and piece of work I am involved in.

Especially now that I’ve had success at last. It is that sense of caution and unease that has me hitting redial and calling Chris back.

Twice.

But voicemail picks up immediately each time.

I hang up and tap the phone on the edge of the rubber basket, more than a little concerned. Is something wrong with our work? Could it be a problem with the last of the experiments we worked on before finalizing the formula? Possible, but he also said someone is there… nothing makes sense.

I bite down on my lower lip and decide to head over to the office and see what is going on for myself. Leaving my laundry on the bed, I grab my bag off the counter, pick up my keys and entry card, and climb into my car.

I live in an apartment close to the lab in the Arts District in downtown Dallas, and on a Sunday, I make it to the building, also downtown, in no time.

The parking lot is nearly deserted, which I expect on the last day of the weekend.

I see Chris’s Prius in his usual spot, but there is no sign of my assistant.

I pull my car to an empty location near the door and rush inside, expecting to find the security guard at his usual post, but his seat is empty. Damnit. I wanted him to accompany me to the lab, in case something really is wrong, as Chris said.

I glance around, but other than the tall potted plants lining the glass entryway, I am alone. Which can be explained by a possible bathroom break for the guard…if I ignore the tingling inside me that began with Chris’s panicked, dropped call.

I have to see for myself. I swipe the card that lets me past the metal barriers and head into the elevators that take me to the fourth floor, where my lab is located.

The doors open to a quiet, empty floor. This is never a busy hallway during the week, so the silence doesn’t alarm me on the weekend.

I round the corner and reach my workshop.

I glance through the window and am struck dumb by the sight.

My computers on the countertops are gone.

Experiment tables with microscopes and other equipment for my research, missing.

Stark white walls and clean countertops gleam through the glass, mocking me.

My heart begins to pound hard in my chest, and I debate what to do. Chris is nowhere to be found, and suddenly going inside the lab doesn’t seem smart, so I back away from the door, just as the elevator around the corner dings.

A man’s voice sounds from around the corner. “I know she’s here. Maybe I can trap her in the lab.”

Shit. I have to get out of here. I start down the hall, in the opposite direction from the elevators, checking over my shoulder as I make my way to the stairwell. I push open the door just as the man’s voice sounds again.

“No, I don’t see her yet.”

I step into the protection of the hall by the stairs and peek out, but I don’t recognize the man in the dark suit. Fear rushes through me, and perspiration dampens my skin beneath my shirt.

I duck out of sight and listen because I need some kind of information to know what the hell is going on. What I am dealing with.

“I still don’t see her,” he says from his position at the lab. “But she’s in the building. Send backup.”

I don’t wait another second. I ease the door closed without letting it make a sound, then run down the stairs, treading lightly, grateful I have my ballet slipper shoes on to muffle the noise.

I need to get the hell out of here. This staircase leads to an exit on the side of the building near the parking lot.

If the guy looking for me is the only one here now, I can run to my car and be gone before anyone else shows up.

Opening the door will set off the alarms, but again… I have a chance of escape.

I have to take it.

I dig for my keys and hold them in one hand. Then I draw in a deep breath and push open the door. Security alarms begin blaring, but I ignore them, bolting for my car, not breaking stride as I flee across the green lawn and then onto the black asphalt.

I don’t look back the way I came or toward the front of the building, and I don’t hit the open button on my key fob until I am right next to the car door.

Climbing in, I lock the doors, start my small BMW, put the car in drive, and tear out of the parking lot, my pulse racing, sweat pouring down my neck, and panic rushing through my veins.

I force myself to calm down and think for a minute. If everything is gone, someone has stolen my research. But they’ll only get the final piece of the formula that comprises the treatment for a heart defect that will result in early death if not treated. I know firsthand.

Absently, I rub the heart pendant I never take off, a gift from my mom, who suffered with the congenital defect and died when I was only fourteen. I lost my dad to a heart attack when I was nineteen and away at college. To say treating heart ailments is my life’s passion is an understatement.

My mentor began the work on the treatment, but ultimately, he retreated to his hermit life, and I took it over. But I listened to him and learned from his experience. I never keep all the pieces in one place. Just in case.

Chris and I had a major breakthrough last week, and I informed my boss. Now everything in my lab is gone. I blow out a breath. Whoever emptied my workspace will soon find out they don’t have the whole formula… or they already know and want the rest of my research. The pieces I hid.

I need to figure out what to do. I’ve spent many years working on the treatment for this congenital defect and believe that Newton Laboratories, which subsidizes my research, would bring it to market with a reputable pharmaceutical company. One that will do right by the people suffering.

Keeping one eye on the road and another on my rearview mirror, I drive, no destination in mind. I can’t go home… if people are looking for me or the pieces of my work, they’ll go there first. Not that they’ll find anything, but I need help.

I reach out one hand and dig through my purse for the familiar feel of her phone. A quick look down, and I pull up my favorites and hit the first person listed, my brother, Tate.

Tate and Talia. My mother loved the alliteration, bless her soul.

I hit send, fully aware it is twelve hours ahead in China, where he is visiting a client. Tate works for Alpha Securities, a firm in New York, and he’ll know exactly what I should do now.

He answers on the third ring. “Talia, what’s wrong?” he immediately asks, knowing I wouldn’t wake him unless it is an emergency.

I swallow hard, glancing again in the rearview mirror as I drive. “I was at my lab and someone’s after me. I’m driving aimlessly and I—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he says, and I can picture him sitting up in bed, hair sticking out, and barking orders.

His commanding voice soothes my frazzled nerves, as does the fact that he doesn’t ask for unnecessary details. He knows my job comes with risks and certain dangers due to the high monetary stakes involved in drug development.

“Ditch the phone as soon as you hang up with me. Hop on 75 to Mockingbird and drive straight to Love Field,” he says of the nearest airport. “Leave the car in long-term parking and take a cab to Shane Landon’s house in Richardson.”

The name conjures up all sorts of memories, some of them good, the last one between us utterly humiliating.

I haven’t seen Shane since high school, but he and Tate are still friends.

Since leaving the LAPD, Shane has been a bodyguard.

In fact, he sometimes freelances for the firm where Tate works in New York when they need a hand.

My brother mentioned that much in my presence, and silly me, I catalogued any information on the sexy guy I stupidly pushed away in a teenage panic.

“Tali, are you listening?”

“Of course. Ditch the phone and leave the car in long-term parking.”

“Take a cab to Shane’s.” He rattles off the address, knowing with my memory I caught it the first time. “And do not use a credit card. Cash only. Call me as soon as you get there so I know you’re safe. Once Shane has details, he and I will make a plan.”

“Got it,” I say.

“I mean it. I’ll worry, so make sure you call me.”

“I know,” I murmur, grateful for my older sibling’s caring. Since losing both parents, we are all the family each has left and are extremely close, even with him living in Manhattan.

“I’ll let Shane know you’re on your way. Now go concentrate and watch for a tail.”

“Believe me, I am.” Not that I know how to easily lose one if I discover someone is following me. “Love you,” I whisper.

“Back at you.” He disconnects the call.

I glance around me on the highway and realize there is nobody behind me. I pull into the right lane, slow a bit, open the window, and with an apology to my life’s information on that cell phone, toss the piece of metal onto the side of the road.

A little while later, I’ve left the car in a dark corner of long-term parking, walked quickly to the nearest taxi stand in the airport, and given the driver Shane Landon’s address.

I ought to be nervous about seeing him again, but I can’t concentrate on anything but the stranger who wanted to trap me in my lab—and wonder what he’d have done with me if he had.

I shiver in the back of the cab, touching the locket on my neck for comfort.

“Want me to turn on the radio?” the driver offers.

“No. Thank you.” I just want to get to my destination so I can have the time to think and sort out the situation in my mind.

Finally, he pulls in front of a gorgeous home that is obviously new construction. I pay the driver the money I pulled out of my wallet—all the cash I have on me, and I am grateful I didn’t have to ask the man to wait so I could get money from Shane.

I step out of the cab, shut the door, and the taxi speeds off, leaving me feeling open and exposed. I rush to the front door, looking over my shoulder constantly, and ring the bell, followed by some banging with my hand.

A car door slams in the distance, and I jump a good ten feet, immediately banging my knuckles on the door again.

Obviously, Shane isn’t home, but just as clearly, I can’t stand out here, causing a scene. Nor do I want to be out in the open. I don’t think anyone followed me from the lab. They’d have shown themselves by now if they did, right? But still, I don’t want to take any chances.

I saw a gate around the side of the house when the cab pulled up, so maybe I can hide in his backyard until he returns. I glance around. Still no sign of cars or neighbors.

I follow the walkway toward the driveway, then head to the gate around back. Tall wooden fencing blocks anyone from seeing in—or out—which affords me the protection I need, as long as the lock is open.

I reach for the latch…and bingo. I expel a long sigh of relief as I push the heavy slats open and step inside, shutting the gate and clicking it closed behind me.

Alone in the big backyard, with a large in-ground pool in front of me, I feel my shoulders sag at the respite from the panic that has been accompanying me for the last hour. I’m not out of danger, but at least I am marginally safe.

I exhale hard and start for the patio chairs, planning to sit and catch my breath, when a deep thrum of music coming from the other side of the lawn catches my attention. The tunes play from speakers attached to the house.

I follow the sound to an outdoor shower stall. The swinging door is open wide, and Shane Landon stands inside, water sluicing down his tanned, muscular, completely naked body. His face is turned up toward the shower head, eyes closed, as he soaps up that glorious skin with his hands.

For a brief moment, the fear I’ve been running from evaporates, and all I can concentrate on is him.

His dark hair, wet from the shower, his biceps bulging as he rinses off, the tattoos on his chest, and as my gaze travels lower to his impressive package, my own body comes to life.

My nipples pucker into tight points, arousal pulsing through my veins. I stare unabashedly until—

“What the fuck?” He slams the shower off and storms toward me, dripping wet, no towel in sight.

Obviously, my brother hasn’t been able to reach him.

He’s been indisposed… and the events of the morning come flooding back.

Chris’s frightened call, finding my lab empty, my work gone, hiding from a man who wanted to trap me.

It is like a thriller movie, but I am the one on the run, and this is my life.

The adrenaline that guided me this far leaves me in a rush.

“Shane,” I say, my voice shaking.

“Talia?” He stares at me in disbelief.

“I need you.” I take one step, and my knees buckle.

He steps forward and catches me before I hit the ground, his big, hard, naked body protecting mine with strength and heat.