Rescued Page 2

  “Colette?”

  She gritted her teeth to avoid screaming and stomping her foot. She hated being reduced to this level of anger that made her act like a damn child.

  Tavis set her suitcase inside and turned back toward her. “Headache?”

  “Understatement.” She lifted her gaze. “Please tell me you’re not staying here with me.” She might turn around and get back on the next flight to the States to singlehandedly strangle her parents if they’d crossed that line.

  Tavis winced. “No one filled you in on any of the details, did they?”

  “Grrr.” She was too fucking tired to deal with this man or anyone else. She stiffened her arms, fisted her hands, and stomped past him to enter the ridiculously nice furnished condo that her father had rented in an effort to interfere with and control every aspect of her life.

  Tavis followed her inside, shut the door, and locked it.

  “We sharing a bed too?” Colette asked as she glanced around the downstairs before grabbing her suitcase and lugging it up to the second floor where she assumed she would find two bedrooms. Her father was high-handed and domineering, but surely he didn’t expect her to actually sleep with the bodyguard. Though, she wouldn’t be surprised at this point.

  “Seems like that might be unprofessional, but if you’re afraid of the dark or have nightmares or something, I’ll see what I can do to get you tucked back in. We could get a nightlight?”

  Even though he couldn’t see her face, she rolled her eyes and kept climbing the stairs.

  “Master bedroom is on the right,” he pointed out, reaching past her to push the door open. “I checked the mosquito net earlier. It’s in good shape.”

  She avoided touching him as she entered and dropped her suitcase and backpack on the floor before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off her shoes.

  She groaned as they hit the floor, and then she stood and pulled the covers back. “In about two seconds I’m going to strip down to my panties and climb under these covers. You going to watch or…?” She reached for the button on her jeans. At this point, she didn’t give a fuck if he stayed or left. She just wanted to sleep.

  Tavis chuckled as he rounded to the other side of the queen-sized bed and untied the netting from the bedpost. He did the same at the foot of the bed and then the corner closest to her before reaching around her to get the last one. “Make sure it falls shut around you, princess. Sleep tight.”

  She wanted to throw something at him as he left the room, but she inhaled slowly and blew it out just as slowly instead. She couldn’t have hit him with anything anyway. She was trapped inside the mosquito netting.

  Her fingers were shaking as she lowered the zipper on her jeans, shrugged out of them, and then removed her shirt, bra, and socks. In seconds she was in bed, under the covers, fast asleep.

  Chapter 3

  Tavis strolled back downstairs, snagged himself a bottle of water from the fridge, and dropped into the armchair in the living room. He pulled out his cell and called the Holt Agency headquarters in Indiana. It would be late afternoon there.

  “Holt Agency.” The pleasant friendly voice was that of Serena, Ajax’s wife. She kept everything running like a well-oiled machine.

  “Hey, Serena. This is Tavis. Is Ajax around?”

  “Oh, hey, Tavis. He sure is. Hang on one second.”

  He knew she dashed into the other room to get her husband, knowing Tavis was calling from Uganda. Serena knew where every member of their team was at all times.

  “Tavis, how’s it going?”

  Tavis laughed as he ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. “Depends on how you look at it.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t have trouble picking her up from the airport.”

  “Oh, I found her easily. She’s a spitfire. The last thing she wants is a bodyguard. She might have steamrolled right over me, left me on the side of the road, taken the keys to the SUV, and sped away if she weighed more than one twenty.”

  Ajax laughed. “I’d like to see something like that. Ryker told me he got the impression she wasn’t exactly privy to some of the details.”

  “To be fair, Colette is a grown woman. Not a child. She isn’t the sort of person who goes on drinking binges and gets into trouble. Her research is mostly in Kampala on the Makerere University campus. I’m sure she’s brilliant and extremely capable and doesn’t need a bodyguard. Unless there’s something the secretary of state isn’t telling us.”

  “Not that I’m aware of. But I’ll dig around a bit.”

  “Has he always been this high handed with her?”

  “I think so. She’s an only child with a recognizable name. He’s overprotective,” Ajax pointed out.

  “I could understand that if she were twelve or behaved badly.”

  “Funny you should mention that. Apparently she went out with her friends the night before she left and got a bit rowdy. There are pictures of her partying all over the internet today.”

  Tavis groaned. “You sure it was her? She doesn’t seem the type.” She did have a headache though. Could have been from drinking too much. Would also explain her sour disposition.

  “Yep. Have her check in with her parents as soon as she can.”

  Tavis leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. The perfect ceiling in this expensive, brand new, furnished condo. “I doubt if that would go over well. She doesn’t strike me as someone who’s going to enjoy being told what to do.”

  None of this made sense. There had to be a piece missing from the story. The woman who just growled at him and nearly stripped in front of him indignantly did not strike him as someone who partied all night on a regular basis. Hell, she had an advanced degree in something medical he knew nothing about.

  Suddenly, he decided he would open his laptop and educate himself before morning. If she thought he was some dumb bodyguard, he would prove her wrong and nip that in the bud and fast.

  “You still there?” Ajax asked.

  “Yeah. Can you dig around some and see if there’s anything good ole Daddy isn’t sharing with us? The hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end.”

  “Will do,” Ajax responded. “I agree. Something doesn’t add up.”

  “Maybe I’m overreacting and he’s simply overprotective, but I suspect there’s more to it than that. Either she’s secretly a wild child on the side when not curing diseases—which I’m not buying—or there’s a threat to her life no one bothered to mention.”

  “Agreed. I’m on it. Get some sleep. Sounds like you might need it.”

  “Will do.” Tavis ended the call. He had no plans to sleep anytime soon though. He needed to know more about epidemiology and what sort of research studies were being conducted at Makerere University.

  Why? So you can impress the lady?

  Tavis wasn’t going to allow himself to ponder his reasoning. He simply knew he intended to educate himself more and fast.

  Surely his sudden interest in communicable diseases had nothing to do with the spunky ball of fire sleeping in the master bedroom upstairs.

  Instead of heading to his own room next to hers, he grabbed his laptop from the kitchen counter, fired it up, and carried it to the sofa. He kicked off his shoes, spun around to prop his feet on the cushions, and propped the laptop on his knees.

  One hour. That’s how long he would allow himself to research. And then he would catch some zzz’s. He wanted to be up before her in the morning, coffee brewing, armed and ready to face the day.

  That was not how things went down, however.

  Tavis bolted awake with a gasp. It took him a moment of glancing around to remember where he was and what his assignment had been.

  The sun was up. His laptop was still open on his torso, and a piece of paper fluttered to the floor next to him when he moved.

  Tavis swung around, set the laptop on the coffee table, and snagged the paper.

  I went to the campus to get the lay of the land. Be back in a while.

  * * *

  C

  “Fuck.” Tavis jumped to his feet, though there was no reason to be in any kind of hurry. He would never find her. He headed for the front window first and looked out. At least she hadn’t taken his SUV. Which then begged the question—how had she gotten to the campus?

  He scowled, furious with himself as he took the stairs two at a time to the second floor. After a quick shower in the hall bathroom, he headed into the second bedroom to get dressed. Ten minutes later, he was back downstairs, making coffee.

  He paced while the coffee brewed. He’d be toast if anything happened to her on the first goddamn day he was supposed to be watching her. Forcing himself to calm down, he grabbed the loaf of bread and popped two slices into the toaster.

  A quick glance at his phone told him it was only eight. She’d left extremely early for a woman who’d been so exhausted when she dropped into bed after midnight. Probably just to push his buttons.

  And she definitely had pushed his buttons. He was so pissed off with both himself and her that he couldn’t even taste the toast as he ate it. He even slathered it with peanut butter and still couldn’t swallow properly.

  Should he call Ajax or Ryker? Probably. But then three people would be worried instead of one. He knew he wouldn’t be in trouble with anyone. It wasn’t his fault he’d been assigned to a runner. How was he supposed to know she was this damn careless?

  After he finished his coffee, he forced himself to sit at the table with his laptop and continue researching her expertise just to keep his mind occupied. He found more than just information about epidemiology. He found articles Colette herself had written for Johns Hopkins. He read several of them.

  There were pictures too. Staged pics to accompany her bio and action shots o
f her working in a lab. Often she looked very serious with a furrowed brow—especially while working. Some of them showed a softer side of her, smiling even.

  She was very pretty. Not the least bit ostentatious. She didn’t wear layers of makeup or have fancy haircuts or manicures in any of the pictures. She didn’t need any of that shit. She had a natural beauty that shone on its own.

  When he switched to her social media, he learned that she didn’t post often. Many pictures of her were posted by someone else. A few featured evenings with friends. In those she looked carefree and happy.

  Others were of political events, charity auctions, and state dinners. She looked uncomfortable in most of those, her expression strained, her body tense. Colette Loughlin didn’t like the political life. She was a scientist. Unpretentious.

  Last night he hadn’t gotten a good look at her. It had been dark. She’d been angry, tired, frustrated, and about ten other emotions. Perhaps even hungover. Her hair had been in a long braid down her back. Jeans. T-shirt. Tennis shoes. Traveling clothes.

  Now, he wondered what her hair would look like when it was down. From the pictures, he could tell it was thick and wavy. She didn’t keep some elaborate style that would require multiple trips to the hairdresser. Simple. Easy. Elegant without all the fanfare.

  Suddenly the front door opened and Tavis jumped to his feet. His ire rose to the surface immediately. “What the fuck, Colette?”

  She shut the door and met his gaze, smirking. Head held high without a single bit of chagrin, she strode toward the kitchen area. “Good morning to you too, Tavis.” She grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter. A bowl of fruit he’d set out.

  She took a huge bite and chewed, leaning a hip against the counter.

  “We need to talk. Obviously you don’t understand the scope of my job.” He set his hands on his hips and glared at her.

  She shrugged. “Oh, trust me. I understand perfectly. My father thinks I’m twelve and need constant supervision. He’s wrong, but he won’t listen to me. Believe me, you aren’t the first buff guy he’s sent to try to control me. And you won’t be the last. You’re just one in a long line of professional bodyguards hired to make sure nothing imaginary happens to me.”

  Tavis flinched. She was extremely bitter. Did she have a right to be? He wasn’t sure yet, but he intended to find out. “Do you though? Need constant supervision? Because so far it would seem he’s right.”

  She rolled those deep brown eyes and took another bite of her apple. “I’m twenty-seven. I have a master’s degree. I’ve written over a dozen published pieces for several medical journals. I speak four languages fluently. I do not need a keeper.”

  She shook her apple at him and continued. “Ah, but you already know all that. You sat up late researching me while I slept.”

  He groaned inwardly at having been caught with his computer in his lap, probably open to an article about her or her research. “How were you so chipper and awake so early in the morning? When you dropped into bed, I thought you might sleep through this entire day.”

  She chuckled. “I don’t need much sleep.”

  “You were also hungover, weren’t you?”

  She dropped the apple core in the trash can, set her hands on her hips, and cocked her head at him defiantly. “So now it’s a crime to go out drinking with friends? You do realize other grown adults in their late twenties also go out at night, they just don’t get followed by the paparazzi and end up on the front page of every fucking tabloid in town.”

  She had a point. He narrowed his gaze in this odd standoff. “Look, I don’t know you. Well, that’s not true. I know everything the tabloids, your social media, and your university have to say, but I don’t know enough to judge you. I find it hard to believe you’re the sort of person who regularly parties hard and needs a keeper. It doesn’t fit with the rest of your bio. Which means I have to believe either your parents don’t trust you for some reason, or they refuse to let you grow up, or—and this is the part that worries me—there is an actual threat to your life that has landed me here as your protection.”

  At least she flinched. “There is no fucking threat. My father is overprotective. He imagines threats. He makes them up. He has for my entire life. In fact, he’s gotten worse in the last few years. And you’re right about me regularly partying. I don’t. How could I even if I wanted to? Someone would follow me and report back to my father.”

  Tavis took a deep breath. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. How about we start over.”

  “Nope. We didn’t get off on the wrong foot. We started right where I wanted to start. Me making sure you understand that I don’t need or want you following me around. I believe I even offered to pay you to stop and give it up.”

  “Well, that’s not an option, princess, so you’re going to need to get over yourself. I was hired to keep you safe, and I intend to do just that. Which means if you ever pull a stunt like you did this morning again, I’ll assume you have no respect whatsoever for me or my job and take action to ensure we’re super clear.”

  “What are you going to do? Handcuff me to my bed at night?”

  “Is that something you enjoy?” He lifted both brows, challenging her.

  She flinched. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  He shrugged. “It was your idea. It hadn’t even occurred to me. I’ve never been assigned to be someone’s babysitter before. This is new to me. You’ll have to let me know what your previous keepers did to ensure you didn’t step out of line. I’ll take a page from their handbooks. Hey, maybe I can get references from your father and ask them myself.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Don’t you dare. And I’m not a fucking baby, Rambo. I don’t need a sitter or a keeper.”

  “It would appear you do. If that’s the attitude you intend to carry around. This isn’t Pennsylvania, princess—”

  “Stop calling me that,” she shouted.

  “I like how it gets a rise out of you. Anyway, as I was saying, this is a third-world country we’re in. You shouldn’t go off half-cocked by yourself under any circumstances, even if no one knew who you were. You don’t know enough about this area to take off in the early hours of the morning alone.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “I’m not. I’m being realistic. And you’re proving to me that you do indeed need a keeper. So, from now on, don’t fucking go anywhere without me, understood? If you do it again, you won’t get to have your own bedroom anymore, because trust me, princess, I will not hesitate to use the handcuffs you’ve suggested. And then I’ll sleep in the same room just in case you’re also Houdini.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me.” Boy, did she make his blood pump. On top of that, it was hard to keep a straight face. This conversation—if one could even call it a conversation—had deteriorated to the point that it was almost comical. He was afraid she might haul off and slap him if he laughed out loud though.

  Damn, she was feisty. And she was under his skin. Not just in a bad way. She was sexy when she got all flustered, especially when he threw her off balance. It was fun.

  Suddenly this job didn’t seem as bad as he’d been thinking earlier while she’d been AWOL. This banter might actually be fun. She was cute when she got all hot and bothered, making him wonder what she might look like if she were hot and bothered in a different way.

  The way she’d reacted to the handcuffs left him curious to know if she’d truly been horrified or if she had a kinky side. And if she had a kinky side, had she ever acted on it or was it just in her imagination and dreams?

  He shook those inappropriate thoughts aside. He was here to protect her, not sleep with her.

  “Are we done here, Dad?” she asked.

  Her tone and choice of words made his breath hitch. “How old are you again?”

  She groaned and stomped past him, heading for the stairs.

  He watched her as she jogged up them. “By the way, princess, I checked the windows up there. They all have permanent bars on them, so don’t get any ideas about climbing onto a tree limb and shimmying to freedom.”

  She growled as she reached the top and then slammed the door to her bedroom.