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Lauren’s hands dropped to her side. “What’s wrong?”
He turned away, wiped a hand down his face. That was . . . shit. That was not what I planned.”
Silence met his ears. Followed by the click of her heels against the concrete floor. “Me either, but I’m not complaining.”
He turned to look at her as reality slammed into him full force. She was a supermodel, he was her bodyguard. Yeah, there was an attraction there, but in the end he was nothing more than another conquest for her. He’d protected celebrities before. Knew how spoiled they were and how they expected everyone to be at their beck and call. And that wasn’t him, not by a long shot, not anymore. As hot as she was, she wasn’t worth that kind of humiliation. No woman was. Not ever again.
“Yer done for the night, Ms. Kauffman. I suggest you go out there and tell Santiago yer heading back to yer suite.”
“With you?” she asked with just enough eagerness to waver his resolve.
“No.” He moved back out of her reach so she couldn’t tempt him again with those wicked fingers or that smokin’ body. “Alone.”
“But . . . but I thought—”
“By the time we get to the hotel, Hedley should be back from his scouting trip with Moira. You have a photo shoot in the morning.” His gaze roamed over her features and even in the dark he could see her hair was a wild tangle around her face, her lipstick smeared. She looked wanton and hot and ready to be fucked, and it took all his strength to take another step away from her. “I think it’s safe to say you need your beauty sleep.”
She pushed away from the wall, her features tightening in the dim light. “You know what you are, Tierney? You’re a coward.”
“Why?” he asked as she pushed by him, knowing she was good and pissed now. “Because I changed my mind?”
“No.” She turned to face him. “Because you’re afraid. I don’t fit into a nice, neat box and that’s driving you nuts. You want to label me, but every time we’re together you can’t figure out how to act, what to say, so you resort to snide comments and a pissy attitude to turn me off. Well, you know what, buddy? Your plan finally worked. I don’t need this kind of aggravation, especially from you.”
She headed for the stairs. There was just enough truth in what she’d said to reignite his temper. He caught her before she reached the bottom step. “Hold up.”
She whipped back, swatted his arm away in a move that was a little bit self-defense, a little bit kung fu and a whole lotta surprise. “Don’t touch me. I’m going out to tell Javier I’m done for the night. But not because you ordered me to. I’m doing it because I want to go back to my room so I can get as far away from you as possible.”
Finn let her go, following as she headed back out into the writhing bodies and swirling lights of the club and made her way to Santiago, who was talking with a duo of women. As Finn stood in the shadows watching Santiago slip his arms around Lauren’s neck and whisper something in her ear, he realized he should have felt relief—he’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted, in a roundabout sorta way—only all he felt was . . . more pissed off than he’d been before.
She was wrong. This wasn’t about his fear, it was about his job. He’d made the mistake of falling for a principal once before. When he’d been young and stupid and new on the job. Then he hadn’t just lost his heart, he’d lost his self-respect. And he’d almost lost a gig he was actually pretty damn good at. He wasn’t about to go down that road again. Not for her. Not for anyone.
One more day. H could make it through one more day on this shitty assignment. Then he was on a plane back to the States and as far away from Lauren Kauffman as was humanly possible.
Movement to his left drew his attention. His gaze shifted that way to where a group of local police stepped out of the crowd on the far side of the dance floor. His instincts went on high alert. Cops in a bar were never good, but something about this group struck him as totally out of place.
They were all in their early to mid-twenties. And the
way they held themselves—arrogant, as if they owned the place—and the gang-style tattoos on their forearms didn’t jibe with the uniforms. Finn shifted to find Lauren. He wanted her out of the club before the shit started flying.
He pushed his way through the mass of bodies. Strobes pulsed shards of light over skin and leather and hair. He made it only two yards before a shout echoed to his left and some kind of commotion erupted. He looked that way just as the sea of bodies parted, leaving Javier Santiago and his circle of women in clear view of the newcomers.
Shit. Finn pushed harder through the crowd. “Goddammit. Move!”
The two women Santiago had been talking with scurried off. Santiago looked up, locked eyes on the group of men and barked something in Spanish. His big hand landed on Lauren’s shoulder. He shoved her behind him. Lauren yelped. She slammed into a man at her back, ricocheted off his chest and hit the ground on her ass just as the cop at the font of the group whipped out a semi-automatic and unloaded into the crowd.
Finn’s heart lurched into his throat. Screams erupted in the club and bodies rushed from the center of the dance floor in mass exodus. He pulled the weapon from the holster beneath his shirt and fought against the flow of bodies like a salmon swimming upstream. Through the crowd he saw Santiago sail backwards, crash into a high table and slump to the floor. Tables and chairs toppled with a loud crash. For a split second, time stood still as Finn took in the blood spray, the other bodies down behind Santiago, and Lauren laid out on the ground feet away, covered in red.
God, no . . .
The blood drained from his face. His chest squeezed so hard, he couldn’t breathe. Just when he was sure he’d fucked up for good, her head came up, her eyes grew wide and she screamed, shifting to her side to push herself up.
Relief released the freeze in his muscles and Finn sprang into action. He darted across the floor. Other cops in the group of assailants screamed orders at the club inhabitants, waving their guns over their heads in a show of force. Bodies darted in every direction. The music died, but the lights continued to pulse in an eerie glow, rippling over bodies and limbs and terror-filled faces. Finn counted six, eight, ten terrorists, not including the shooter. Four he could probably take down, but not the rest, not alone. And his first priority was Lauren.
He reached her in seconds that felt like a lifetime. She was on her hands and knees crawling toward Santiago. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he pulled her back behind an overturned table. “Stay down!”
“Javier! Oh, my God, Finn. Javier!”
She fought his hold but he gripped her tightly, his mind spinning with exit options. “Hold still, dammit.”
