Secret Protector

Balancing her coffee in one hand, she groped in her bag for her keys.

The door behind her clicked open.

She whirled around.

Emerging from the stairwell was the man with the untucked shirt. The door slammed with a loud clang.

The sound shuddered up Natalie’s spine and echoed off the concrete. For a moment, she couldn’t focus. She couldn’t move. All she could do was think about how alone the two of them were—no other cars, no one to come to her aid. Even if she screamed, would anyone hear?

Her phone. Instead of grabbing her keys, she pulled out her cell. She stared at the screen. Underground garage. Surrounded by concrete.

No service.

She held the phone to her ear anyway. If he thought she was calling someone, he would leave her alone. Wouldn’t he? The shuffling sound of those god-awful loafers moved toward her.

A high whistle of panic rose in her ears. Oil and concrete and old exhaust clogged her throat.

“No reception down here, I bet,” he said in a quiet voice.

He wasn’t fooled by the phone. All she could do was make a run for it. Get through the door and slam it before he could follow. She dropped the useless phone back in her bag and groped for her keys. Her fingers hit steel. She pulled the key chain out, jingling in shaking fingers. She tried to fit her key into the lock.

“Need help with that?”

His voice was right behind her shoulder. The faint mint scent of mouthwash fanned her neck.

She turned her head to look at him.

He stared at her with sharp brown eyes. His dark blond hair was mussed, blown by the wind. He looked like a regular guy. Perfectly ordinary.

Then why was she so frightened?

She turned back to the door. He hadn’t hurt her yet. Hadn’t even touched her. All he’d done was ask if he could help. That had to mean something. Right? Maybe she was doing all this panicking for nothing. Maybe she really was going crazy after all. “No, thanks. I can get it.”

“You seem … scared.”

She didn’t know what to say. Admit she was frightened out of her mind? Or just play it cool. “I was just startled.”

“Startled? That’s not what I had in mind.”

His voice sounded low, calm. Everything Natalie wasn’t. Everything she didn’t think a mugger should be, either. “I’m … I’m okay now.” She fibbed, feeling far less than okay.

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you know who I am?”

“Know you?” She turned to face him. He stood so close she took a step back, hitting the door. “You were in the coffee shop.”

“Yes. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a long time.” He smiled. Cool. Casual. But his eyes … something about them seemed hard. Something about his smile felt less than friendly.

Was she imagining it?

“Excuse me. Hate to interrupt.” The voice came from behind the man. Someone else.

She peered past one of the skinny shoulders. Another man stood in the doorway to the stairwell, his tall, well-muscled frame filling the space. Everything about him—the expression on his face, the way he held his body, the look in his eyes—exuded calm and control. And even though she didn’t know anything more about this man than she did the guy who’d followed her from the coffee shop, she let a relieved breath escape from her lungs and sagged back against the door. “No interruption. Really.”

The man staring at her turned to face the interloper. “Who in the hell are you?”

“I’d like to ask you the same question.”

“Too bad I asked it first.”

He walked from the stairwell. His steps came slow and steady but Natalie could feel something coiled underneath. Power. Readiness. He stopped a few feet away. His eyes focused on the smaller man, hazel slits. “I’m a friend of Ms. Kendall’s. You?”

The man closest to her looked away to the door. His shoulders seemed to grow even more slight. He shuffled away from her, one step, two. “I’m … This is a misunderstanding.”

She wasn’t sure what was misunderstood. He hadn’t said or done anything. Not really. Looking at him, Natalie couldn’t quite remember why she’d felt so threatened. He seemed anything but threatening now.

“I think we understand each other just fine,” said the second man. He ran a hand over his cropped, brown hair. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like a word with Ms. Kendall. Alone.”

The thin man nodded and made for the ramp Natalie had followed into the garage, shoulders hunched. He didn’t look back.

As soon as he climbed out of sight, Natalie focused on the man in front of her. Of the two of them, he was definitely the strongest, physically the more threatening. He even knew her name, although she’d never seen him before. She was sure she hadn’t. She’d remember. But despite the fact that she was alone and defenseless in the same position as she’d been with the other man moments ago, this time she felt inexplicably safe.

But, of course, taking her history with men into account, that was probably a bad sign. “So who are you? And how do you know my name?”

Chapter Two

As soon as Gray stepped from the stairwell, he knew this question would be coming. He also knew he didn’t have an answer for it. Not one Ms. Natalie Kendall would like, anyway. If he wanted to follow his client’s directions, he was going to have to lie. Or at least tweak the truth a little. He just hoped Natalie’s brother was ready to cover his tracks. “Grayson Scott. Call me Gray.”

She stared as if waiting for the rest.

“I work at your company.”

A tiny crease dug between her eyebrows. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember ever having met you.”

“I just talked to Mr. Kendall about the job today.”

The crease didn’t fade. Her mouth dipped in a frown and she glanced off to the side, as if she knew what he was saying wasn’t exactly the truth and she was conjuring a way to trip him up. “Which Mr. Kendall did you talk to?”

“The CEO, Devin Kendall.” At least that answer was the truth. “He’s your brother, correct?”

“Devin isn’t looking to fill any vacancies. Not that he told me about.”

He gave a shrug. “Kendall isn’t a tiny company. Do you usually know about all vacancies?”

“Usually, yes.”

He held her gaze, hoping he appeared to have nothing to hide. That was the problem with off-the-cuff lies. It was impossible to make sure your cover story held water. And stacking one lie on top of another tended to multiply the potential for leaks.

“What division?” she asked.