Guard (The Underground Book 3) Page 26

  Yeah. She could do this. She could submit to this gorgeous man.

  And it would be worth it. Every. Single. Moment.

  About the Author

  Becca Jameson lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and two kids. After years of editing, she is now a full-time author. With over 40 best-selling books written, she has dabbled in a variety of genres, ranging from paranormal to contemporary to BDSM. The voices in her head are clamoring to get out faster than she can get them onto “paper”! She loves chatting with fans, so feel free to contact her through email, Facebook, or her website.

  If you enjoyed this book, this author has other works available here:

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  Keep reading for a sneak peek of Submit, book 4 of this series releasing August 2016.

  Chapter One

  “Oh my God. What are you still doing here?” Belinda leaned against the wall where the hallway entered into her living room. She was still dizzy and had no energy from vomiting more times than she could count. She flattened her hand on the wall to hold herself up and leaned the side of her head against the cool surface when that didn’t prove effective.

  A low moan escaped her lips as she internalized Nikolav was still in her apartment. She had hoped his presence had been in her imagination.

  Apparently not.

  Nikolav jumped to his feet, tossing the magazine he’d been flipping through to the coffee table as he turned to face her. He cocked his head to one side, his eyes squinted quizzically. “Of course I’m still here.”

  Belinda wanted to die. For more reasons than one. She’d never felt so sick in her entire life for one. And to top it off, the sexiest man alive had been witness to her compete degradation for hours on end.

  Nikolav rounded the couch and rushed toward her.

  She hadn’t realized she was sliding down the wall until he grabbed her by the shoulders and righted her. She moaned again.

  “You in pain?” he asked as he bent at the knees and lifted her easily into his arms. “Why didn’t you call for me instead of trying to walk?”

  She was in pain all right. But not the kind he imagined. She was in distress over finding out she hadn’t imagined him in her apartment. Her eyes fluttered closed as he carried her back to her bedroom and gently set her on the bed. The cool sheet felt amazing against her skin as she rolled to her side and curled her legs up toward her chest.

  These were not her normal sheets. “What happened to my bed?” she muttered.

  “I changed the sheets. And I’m going to run you a bath now too if you think you’re up to it.” He turned around and stepped into the attached master bath.

  Her gaze followed his fantastic ass and the way his arms were so thick they didn’t hang straight down against his body. His polo shirt was green and hugged his chest and abs in all the right places. His jeans were hung low and worn, fitting him like a glove.

  She swallowed and glanced down at herself. Her own T-shirt was sweaty and sticking to her chest. It was blue and had sorority letters on it from her college days. Her loose pajama bottoms were pink with white polka dots. When had she put on this ridiculous combination?

  Her hand was shaking as she lifted it to her hair to find the thick locks matted and stuck to her head. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming out in frustration.

  “Do you think you can tolerate a bath yet? Is your stomach settled?”

  She jerked her gaze to the man wandering back toward her. “I’m fine now. Just weak.” The bout of food poisoning that started in the middle of the night had been ferocious, but luckily short-lived. Twelve hours later she had little energy, but at least her stomach was no longer threatening revolt.

  Nikolav reached out a hand. “Come on. The water’s warm. You’ll feel so much better. I’ll make you some tea while you soak.”

  She ignored his hand and swung her legs around to the side of the bed. Slowly, she lifted herself to sitting and then slid off the mattress again.

  He took her elbow and led her to the bathroom. “Think you can manage?” he asked in his deep Russian accent as she entered.

  “I’ll be fine.” She didn’t turn around. Instead she shut the door at her back and leaned against the frame. Deep cleansing breaths did nothing to slow her racing heart.

  This situation was insane. She’d spent the previous evening catching up with her friend Haley only to wake up in the middle of the night with severe cramps. She’d only meant to warn Haley and her boyfriend, Mikhail, of the food poisoning when she called early that morning.

  But Mikhail had taken it upon himself to send his friend Nikolav over to take care of her.

  Insanity.

  She would kill him the next time she saw him.

  Sure, Mikhail was a smoking hot, Russian mixed martial arts fighter, but when she’d asked him to set her up with one of his friends, she hadn’t meant six hours later while she rested her forehead on the toilet.

  The tub was almost full, and she stepped farther into the room and shut off the water before turning toward the mirror. “Shit.” She looked like death. Her normally olive Italian skin was wan and gray. The thick black waves of hair around her face were a rat’s nest. Her dark eyes were sunken.

  She peeled her clothes off and dropped them in the hamper, shuddering to think how she’d gotten into them in the first place. They weren’t the clothes she’d been wearing when she went to bed. And she didn’t have on a bra or panties. No amount of digging into the recesses of her mind gave her a definitive answer.

  Lowering herself into the hot water made her sigh. It felt that good. She sank all the way under without pausing, holding her breath as her head was submerged. For a few seconds she stayed that way, her eyes closed, her cheeks puffed out. It was peaceful. As if she could escape her current predicament if she didn’t resurface.

  But alas, she had no choice. She eased her face out of the water and leaned against the back of the tub, already feeling much better. As she closed her eyes, she pondered her next move.

  The first thing she needed to do when she got out of the bathroom was get rid of Nikolav. She was mortified, and never seeing him again in this lifetime would be too soon.

  And then she needed food. Maybe crackers. Ginger ale. Did she have any white soda in the apartment?

  Dammit. She realized her body wash and shampoo were in the shower, and she started to sit up, thinking to risk standing on wobbly legs to get it. But the items she needed caught her eye on the edge of the tub, and she froze.

  Nikolav? He’d thought to move her supplies to the tub?

  Her face heated. The man could apparently do no wrong. A fact that would make it harder to get rid of him. She didn’t want to be rude. After all, he’d come in the early morning hours to help, which kept her from either lying in a pool of her own vomit for half the day or resorting to calling her parents.

  The last thing she wanted was for her mother to come over and get involved. Marta Gallo was too uptight. She would have called an ambulance and made a bigger deal out of obvious food poisoning than strictly necessary.

  Nope. It might be difficult to get rid of Nikolav, but it would be impossible to get rid of her mother.

  Belinda reached for the shampoo and closed her eyes as she worked it into her hair for longer than necessary. After dipping her entire head under water again, she added conditioner and let it soak in while she washed her body.

  Even after all the exertion, she felt much better just getting clean.

  “You okay, Belinda?” Nikolav’s deep voice made her jump, sending water splashing over the sides of the tub.

  “Yep. Just about to get out.” She released the plug at the bottom of the tub and hauled her body out of the tub. Her fingers shook as she reached for her towel and quickly dried off. Realizing she had nothing clean in the bathroom to put on
, she wrapped her towel around her body and opened the door to her bedroom.

  Relief washed over her when she found herself alone, the door closed. She padded to her dresser to grab panties from one drawer and black yoga pants and a dark purple nylon shirt from another drawer.

  Hurrying, so she wouldn’t be caught naked, she slid the towel to the floor and put the clean clothes on. Her hair was still dripping wet, but she wrapped it in the towel and twisted it on top of her head. She needed sustenance before she could tackle a brush.

  It took several deep breaths to conjure up the nerve to leave her bedroom, knowing the huge sexy Russian with the thick black hair and pale skin was in her kitchen or living room.

  Finally, she made her way down the hallway to find him standing at the kitchen counter stirring something in a mug. Steam lifted into the room.

  He spun around and smiled. “Made you some tea with sugar. I figured you liked tea since I found several varieties in your pantry. And even if you don’t normally use sugar, you need the calories right now.” He took a few strides to round the kitchen table and headed for the couch. As he set the mug on the end table next to the couch, he spoke again. “Come over here. I’ll find you a blanket. You’re still shaking.”

  She didn’t speak as she followed his orders. He spoke as if everything he said wasn’t really up for debate. And she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to argue—plus he was right—so she settled in the corner of the couch with her legs crisscrossed under her and reached for the tea.

  It smelled fantastic. Cinnamon and honey. The first sip warmed her.

  Nikolav stepped back into the attached kitchen area and returned with a sheath of saltines. “Here. Try to eat a few of these. Slowly. Your stomach might not be settled yet.” More demands.

  She wanted to giggle at his high-handedness. But she didn’t have the energy for that, either.

  Instead, she took the crackers from him and reached into the package to extract one. The first small bite went down easily, and she finished the first cracker in moments.

  “Yeah?” He lifted one eyebrow.

  “Mmm. Think I’ll live. Thanks so much for coming over. I don’t think it was completely necessary, but it was kind of Mikhail to send you. I’m sure I’ll manage from here. You don’t need to give up any more of your day.”

  There.

  Or not.

  He smiled and lowered himself onto the couch next to her. “Mikhail’s a good guy.”

  That’s all he had to say?

  She drank several more sips of tea and ate three more crackers before feeling slightly more human and setting them both aside. “Really. I’m fine. You can go.” She didn’t know this guy. Hell, she hardly knew his friend, Mikhail. But she’d spent the entire evening with Mikhail, and he’d been nothing but amazing. Plus, Haley had been seeing the man for weeks.

  Belinda tried to shake free of any nervousness concerning Nikolav. If Mikhail sent him to her rescue, surely he was a good guy.

  He stood, sending relief down her spine, though it was mixed with a twinge of sorrow. Part of her would like him to stay forever just so she could continue to ogle his sexy frame.

  But he surprised her again by ignoring her statement and sending the conversation in a totally different direction. “Is your brush in the bathroom?”

  “What?” She lifted her gaze to meet his. Dark. Brooding. With his slight frown and pale skin, he reminded her of a vampire. “Yes?” She stated that word as if it was a question.

  Nikolav stepped around her and left the room. He returned seconds later carrying her brush and resumed his spot on the couch, too close to her, his body angled toward hers. “Turn around.”

  What the hell?

  He nodded toward the end table, and she found herself once again obeying his strange command. With gentle hands, he unwrapped the towel from her head and set it on the coffee table. Seconds later he began to work the knots out of her tangled hair.

  She let her eyes close and sighed, her hands fisted together in her lap. A gorgeous gigantic man/vampire was brushing her hair?

  For a second, she assumed she must have died, and this was heaven. But if that were the case, surely she wouldn’t be so weak and queasy.

  Words escaped her. What should she say to a man who got out of bed before the sun, came over to a stranger’s apartment, held her hair while she puked, and brushed out her tangles after she bathed? Yes, I’ll marry you?

  When he was satisfied with his work, he set the brush aside but continued to run his fingers through her thick waves. “Your hair is amazing.”

  “Thanks.” She awkwardly broke his touch by turning to face him.

  He smiled at her. “To answer your question, no, I’m not leaving.”

  “What? Why?” She tensed. This situation was strange. She trusted her friend Haley, and by default her boyfriend, but still…

  “I have no idea what Mikhail was thinking when he thought it was a good idea for you to come over to Haley’s last night, but you’re not safe now.” His eyes narrowed.

  “Why?”

  “Did Haley tell you what she’s been through?”

  “Yes. What does that have to do with me?”

  “Nothing, until you associated yourself with her. Now, I trust no one. Anyone could have seen you come and go from that apartment. And if there had been any doubt, it was eliminated when the FBI agent drove you home. That alone would raise eyebrows.”

  “From whom? It was the middle of the night.”

  “From anyone stationed outside Haley’s apartment watching for an opening. As far as I’m concerned, you became that opening. Haley isn’t safe. Which means you’re now a target.”

  “Why would anyone care about me? I’m just a journalist for Chicago Multimedia.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re a journalist?”

  “Yes. So?”

  “Shit.” He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Please tell me you aren’t working this story.”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. And it’s my biggest break yet.” She sat up taller, holding her head high.

  Nikolav must not have liked her stance, however, because he took her chin between his fingers and tipped her head lower. “Do you have a death wish?”

  “Apparently, or I wouldn’t have eaten whatever got me so sick last night.” That made no sense, but she needed a comeback, and those were the first words to slip out.

  Nikolav wasn’t amused. “Do you realize how many people have been killed lately?”

  “I don’t know the exact numbers, but I do know homeless people are disappearing from the streets of Chicago and showing up dead in the dump. That’s why my boss assigned me this story.”

  “Your boss told you to investigate this?”

  “Of course.” She straightened her spine, jerking her chin out of his hand.

  “Babe, this is not a job for a woman. And right now it’s not a job for anyone.”

  “I’m not your babe. And I’ll have you know I’m very good at my job.”

  He grinned at her defiance. “Never doubted how good you are at your job, babe. But this particular story has murder written all over it.

  “You may think you’re investigating a simple case of missing people, but Haley herself was abducted and held against her will for two weeks. She was drugged. Trust me when I say you’re not immune to a similar fate. And you might not come out the other end as lucky as Haley.”

  Belinda shuddered, but she still held her head high. “I’m not backing down from this. I’m going to start interviewing people tomorrow evening. Haley will help me.”

  He emitted a sharp chuckle. “Haley? You think Mikhail’s going to permit Haley to wander the streets at night in search of homeless people and answers? You must be out of your mind.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Hartwood Publishing delights in introducing authors and stories that open eyes, encourage thought, and resonate in the hearts of our readers.

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  Becca Jameson, Guard (The Underground Book 3)