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Chapter 1
Tamara
If someone had told Tamara Post a month ago that she'd be in one of Fort Worth's most exclusive members-only clubs sipping champagne at her ex-husband's Taz's engagement party, she would have laughed in that person's face. If they'd have said she'd be working as the office manager at B-Squad Security and Investigations—which her ex-husband's fiancée, Bianca Sutherland, owned—and loving it, she would have punched them square in the nose. Ex-beauty queens and former soon-to-be trophy wives didn't roll that way.
It was funny how life turned out.
Settling in on the velvet-covered settee in the Corsair Club's private party room, she contemplated getting another glass of wine from the open bar.
"Looking for one of these?" The man belonging to the deep bass voice held out a glass of her favorite chardonnay.
Whereas everyone else in the room was dressed in designer suits and glittering cocktail dresses, the tall, dark and handsome man in front of her was in pressed Wranglers, cowboy boots and a crisp white dress shirt. If he'd had a tie or a sports coat on at one time, he'd ditched them a while ago, judging by how his shirtsleeves were rolled halfway up his corded forearms. Not that she noticed that, or had scoped out the way his broad shoulders filled the shirt to perfection, or was tempted to ask him to turn around so she could confirm that his ass looked as good in those jeans as she imagined.
Men were no longer on her to-do list. But wine? Yeah, that she could do.
"Thank you." She took the glass and drank a sip.
The man sat down beside her, his brawny frame taking up most of the bench she wasn't already parked on. One of his jeans-clad legs brushed against her bare knee and, for the first time in months, a wave of warm desire had her clenching her thighs together.
Unable to figure out how to inch away to allow for space between them without being obvious about it, she crossed her legs. The move made her emerald-green skirt slide up her thigh a bit more than she was comfortable with under the circumstances. Still, giving him a glimpse of skin was less...unsettling...than actually touching him.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced." He held out his hand. "I'm Isaac Camacho."
She knew that name, and now she'd have a face to go with it every time she entered in expense reports. "You work with B-Squad."
He nodded. "On a come-and-go basis as a freelancer."
"Why's that?" From the number of B-Squad clients she'd had to turn away in the past month, Tamara knew the team could use another member.
"I've been told I don't play well with others."
His grin did something funny to her stomach.
"Now that really is too bad. It's important to play nice—mostly." It came out before she could stop it. Damn it. She didn't flirt. Not anymore. Men had been her drug of choice for too long and she'd sworn off of them.
He leaned in close. "Look, I don't want to make a scene but we need to get out of here. Now."
Her heart fluttered. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. What could she say? Old habits died hard—even when they were oh-so-bad for her. "Why's that?"
His full lips flattened into a grim line. "There's a bounty hunter making his way through the front of the restaurant now. He's got papers on you."
Her heart stopped before kicking back on and revving into overdrive.
She had to get out of here and warn Essie.
But first she had to get rid of the guy who could be on the cover of Texas Hotties Monthly.
"That's about the worst pickup line I've ever heard in my life." She meant it to come out as dismissive, but her voice shook too much to be convincing.
"Unless you want to head back to Idaho and have to reveal to a judge exactly where Essie is so her shitbag of a cult leader father can grab her and sell her off to the highest bidder, then I suggest you get your pretty little ass up and follow me."
Her heart caught in her throat. How did he know?
She glanced around. Everyone was smiling and laughing just as they should be at an engagement party. After all the trouble she'd caused when she'd arrived and tried to extort a million dollars out of Taz, the last thing she wanted was to make any more trouble for him or the rest of the B-Squad—and that would be exactly what would happen if they got busted for knowingly harboring a fugitive. She couldn't do that to Taz, Bianca and the rest of the team.
"Why are you helping me?" She searched Isaac's face for an answer, but there were ancient languages she could decipher easier.
"I owe the team one, and I don't want a bounty hunter messing up Taz and Bianca's engagement party, because that's exactly what will happen. You know there's no way these people will let you get clapped in handcuffs and taken out of here without a fight." He shot her a flirtatious grin and stood up. "Anyway, I'm a sucker for sexy blondes who behave badly."
Glancing back at the tinted window wall separating the Corsair Club's front restaurant from the back party rooms, she could see a man in a baseball cap and jeans marching his way straight toward them.
She stood up. "Okay. How do we get out of here?"
"Just follow me, darling." He tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow. "I'll always lead you true."
Now that she highly doubted.
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