Protect & Serve(11)

Instead, Captain Pierce spread his hands helplessly. “Mr. Hale wouldn’t agree to our terms any other way. He requested you, personally.”

My heart sunk. Once again, I was Nathan’s pawn and plaything, a bargaining chip to ensure he would get what he wanted. I wasn’t a valued member of the team—I was a sacrificial lamb.

I wanted to rage at the captain, and at Nathan, too. I wanted to tell them both in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t there for their entertainment, that I was a cop who had earned her stripes and who deserved better than to play babysitter to an entitled billionaire.

But I didn’t say anything. Instead I let the heat rise in my cheeks, my pulse pound in my ears, and my hands shake behind my back as I held in every ounce of anger surging through me.

For the greater good, I told myself. Once you do this, everyone will look at you differently. You’ll be a hero, Sandra. It all sounded like lies.

“Detective,” the captain said, lowering his voice. “You can say ‘no.’ ”

For a moment, I let my rage get the better of me. “Can I, sir?”

Captain Pierce nodded. “Yes. You can. Mr. Hale strikes me as the type of man who’s used to getting what he wants. He’s playing a game here, and he’s not afraid to make people uncomfortable or unhappy to get his way. We both know he’s not going back to his house after what happened today, whether you agree to this or not. If this is going to be a problem for you, detective, then I wouldn’t hold it against you if you said ‘no.’ ”

That gave me pause. I lowered my eyes, considering the Captain’s offer. If he was right, the absolutely best case scenario was that it wouldn’t reflect poorly on me. I’d go back to my job exactly how I left it, Nathan would become someone else’s problem, and I could refocus on other parts of my life that mattered much more than some billionaire’s welfare.

But an image flashed in my head, or rather a series of them: Nathan’s impossibly green eyes; his lazy, lopsided grin; the way he’d stepped in at the last second and potentially saved me from a thug with a gas can and biceps that could have snapped my spine like a twig.

No, that wasn’t right—there was no “potentially” about it. If Nathan hadn’t shown up at that moment, that guy was going to put my training to the test. Even if I took him down, one of his men was almost certainly going to kill me and set the whole place on fire, maybe not even in that order.

The sad fact of the matter was that I owed him one. I tried not to think about how, strangely, I didn’t really mind. A small part of me was looking forward to a few days shacked up with Nathaniel Hale. I had to take a moment to push that thought straight out. This was all a game for Mr. Hale, and if I didn’t assert myself all I’d ever be is the girl he bent over his desk whenever he wanted to. That chapter of my life was over now. I wanted to stay safe inside my web of lies where Nathan’s compelling stare couldn’t reach me.

Right, so I owed him one. We’d go with that.

“No,” I told Captain Pierce. “I mean—yes. I’ll do it. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Captain Pierce looked both surprised and almost impressed. “Fair enough, detective. Pack only what you need.”

I nodded, then stepped out of his office and into the hall. My stomach was churning with the implications of what I’d just done—upended my entire life for a man who probably wouldn’t even appreciate it—when I nearly ran face-first into Nathan’s warm, hard body.

“Jesus!” I yelped, clutching at the collar of my blouse as though it would help the breath return to my lungs. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Nathan looked down at me, grinning from ear to ear. “Sorry about that, detective. It’s probably the shoes.” He lifted a foot, showing me the soles. “My company has been importing them from Japan where this guy, this designer, Shinji Watanabe, started a brand new line of samurai-inspired fashion. His footwear collection is largely based off traditional Japanese designs, and this is his take on the jika-tabi, soft-soled shoes that give you tactile connection with the ground…. and… uh…”

I stared at him. Not a single iota of me cared one bit about his fancy goddamn ninja shoes. Two seconds with this guy and I was already ready to shove one of them down his throat.



* * *



He must have seen the look on my face, because he quickly summed up:

“Anyway, they don’t make much sound. So that’s probably why you didn’t hear me.”

“Well, I imagine I’ll be hearing a lot of you very soon, not to mention seeing,” I said, moving past him. He fell into step beside me. “Your demands have been met. I’ll be your handler for the next seven days.”