Hayley looks at me the way most of my clients do when the reality of their situation hits them: confusion mixed with a flash of terror. She’s living in a world where someone wants to hurt her, and everyone, everything is a potential threat.

It’ll be awhile before she feels completely safe again.

My clients usually have a few days or weeks to come to terms with this kind of situation. Some need general security, some need help with a specific threat. There’s almost always warning, time for strategic planning. Time for acceptance.

Hayley has all of 30 seconds.

Wasting time flirting with her didn’t help. I lost control of myself like a damned teenager, like we had all the time in the world. I knew what she looked like—I had seen a few pictures—but seeing her in person, I wanted her in a way that I haven’t wanted someone in a long time. The wavy blonde hair flowing over her shoulder, those full, pink lips, that dress that hugged her body. All of it drew me in.

I liked her attention, liked that she zeroed in on me in a crowded room. That she felt the same connection I did.

That connection made me lose sight of the whole mission. I put her in more danger.

It’s a glaring reminder of why I never date clients.

Not that Hayley is a typical client.

“Someone was shooting at me,” she says, sounding more confused than panicked, trying to work out what I just told her. “Why? Who would even…”

I wrap my hand around her wrist, moving toward the service entrance door, the beginning of my hastily planned escape route.

“I don’t have time to explain right now,” I tell her, giving her a gentle tug. “We’ll talk when you’re safe.”

“The people who were shooting at me just became intimately familiar with some fists,” she replies, hooking her thumb back toward the club’s main room. “I think I’m safe. Besides, I can’t leave Alexa here, and we need to wait for the police. They’re going to have some questions about what happened here tonight.”

I want to pick her up and carry her out of the building. Knowing that it’ll be easier to disappear if we don’t draw any attention to ourselves is the only thing that stops me.

“You have to come with me, Hayley.” I admire her concern for her friend, but I’m desperate to make her see reason. I haven’t lost a client yet—she’s not going to be the first. “One of my guys is taking care of Alexa. He’s gonna keep her safe, and I have another one here to deal with the police. They’re—”

“Excuse me, your guys?”

“I’m a bodyguard.”

“You’re a bodyguard,” she repeats, sliding her hand up into her hair, pulling it away from her face. She scrunches her brows together, giving me a look. I just made myself a human shield to keep her from getting shot; I’m not sure what I can do or say in the next few seconds that will make her trust me.

“Do you remember Carson Taylor?” I ask.

Mentioning his name lands like a physical blow. Hayley flinches like I’ve slapped her. I know she remembers him. Carson told me the horror story that was their breakup, the way he treated her before and after.

I’ve seen the restraining order.

I know first hand that Carson leaves a hell of an aftermath that’s difficult to navigate.

“I remember him.” Hayley squares her shoulders. She raises her chin, defiant, but the tremble in her voice betrays her.

“He got himself in trouble with some bad people,” I tell her, which is an understatement. He owes a crime lord a shitload of money, and that guy wants to take the one thing he thinks Carson still cares about—Hayley—to persuade him to pay up. But you can’t bleed a rock, and I’m not letting Carson’s bad decisions hurt anyone else. “He knew they’d come after you to get to him, and they have. I can’t protect you if I don’t get you out of here.”

Hayley bites her lip. She wants to believe me. “Alexa is my best friend. My family. I can’t just—”

“I know that trusting me is a lot to ask. We just met, and this isn’t the way I wanted to introduce myself to you.” I recall what she said when we met a few minutes ago, what those words did to me. What they made me want to do to her. I push all that away, making myself focus on her safety and nothing else. “Alexa is in good hands, I promise. If you want to keep her and everyone else in this club safe, we have to get out of here. Now.”

Hayley nods. I carefully open the service entrance door and poke my head out, unsure of what waits on the other side.

The coast is clear, just as I’d hoped.

I take Hayley’s hand and we step outside.

* * *

“You don’t have a getaway car?” Hayley asks quietly, the first time she’s spoken in the past five minutes.

We’re a few blocks away from the club, and I haven’t seen any signs of trouble. I glance back at her as I lead her through the last of countless alleyways, toward Dupont Circle. The evening crowd is in full swing, and it’ll be easy for us to disappear.

“I don’t like being in a car in the busy parts of the city,” I explain. “If we hit any kind of traffic, we’re sitting ducks.”

We pass the back entrance to a greasy Chinese takeout spot, and I pluck a jacket off the railing, then slip it over her shoulders.

“It’s mine,” I tell her. I’d left it here when I did a quick run-through of our escape route right before I showed up at the club. If I’d been even a minute later…

Hayley slides her arms through the sleeves, completely swimming in the leather. She nestles her head against the collar, closing her eyes as she breathes deep. The smell must comfort her, and that thought makes me want to kiss her until she forgets her own name.

I shake my head a little, like that’ll get my mind off her. I’ve got to focus.

I wrap my arm around Hayley and tuck her against my side, walking at a pace that’s brisk enough to weave through the crowd, but nothing that’ll draw attention.

“Let your hair fall down around your face,” I tell her, like we’re having a casual conversation. “Tug the jacket closed so no one can see your dress. The less identifiable you are, the better.”

She does as I say.

The goal is to pass ourselves off as any other couple, like I gave her my jacket to keep out the unseasonable chill in the air. We continue for a couple of blocks, then take a detour onto a residential street. Leaves are rustling in the wind; I have to concentrate to make out any suspicious sounds.

Hayley’s whole frame is stiff and on guard, so I rub her shoulder, and she relaxes against me.

Apart from another couple about a hundred feet or so ahead of us, there doesn’t appear to be anyone else around. Going down Swann on our way to 17th seems to have been a good choice. I keep my arm around Hayley, partly for the ruse, and partly for comfort. We’re close to the rendezvous point when I catch the quick clip of footsteps behind us.

“Laugh,” I tell Hayley. “Laugh like I said something funny.”

She lets out a noise that sounds a lot like a dying cat, and I can’t help but smile. I twirl her into an alleyway to our left, and her surprised laugh that follows seems genuine. I plant my hand against the wall next to Hayley’s face to keep her hidden and press my body against hers. It’s strategic; it keeps her protected if I’m going to have to deal with the person behind us, and makes us look like a horny couple taking a minute to ourselves if I don’t.

Her breasts press against my chest with every breath she takes, and I have to actively ignore the fact that I’m a man to focus on being a bodyguard. It’s difficult with Hayley, though, everything about her draws me in. She’s so gorgeous. Tousled blonde hair and clear blue eyes with a smile that lights up a room. I slide my thumb along the plump curve of her lower lip, briefly wondering what she tastes like.

The footsteps echo closer.

I press my forehead to Hayley’s, turn my head to the side just enough to get a good look at the woman passing by, heels clicking heavily on the sidewalk. She doesn’t even notice us here.

“Why did you do that?” Hayley asks, her voice trembling.

I don’t know what she’s asking. There are a few things I’ve done in the past minute that require explanation, so I go for the simplest answer.

“I wanted to get out of the way,” I explain. “I don’t like having anyone on my six.” The tip of my nose brushes against hers as I turn my head and face her. The air between us is charged. I could lean in and—

“What’s a six?”

I let out a quick huff of a laugh, effectively breaking the moment.

Hayley’s eyebrows bunch together irritably. “You don’t have to laugh at me, I just—”

“I’m not laughing at you,” I tell her, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You are a surprise, Hayley Grey.”

The alarm on my watch chirps—we’re already running late to get the car. “Come on.” I push away from the wall and reach for Hayley’s hand. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

* * *

At the corner of Willard and 17th, one of my best employees leans on an unassuming tan sedan in front of the red row house we’d designated as a meeting point.

Davis is a big guy, intimidating. Hayley hangs back on the sidewalk as I approach him. “Inconspicuous,” he says, nodding toward the car as he tosses me a set of keys. “Just like you wanted, Boss.”

“Thanks. Are we clear?” No one followed us, and I want to make sure no one followed him, either.

Davis nods. “All clear.” He looks over at Hayley, whose hands are twisted into the lapel of my jacket. She looks nervous, and I don’t blame her. It’s one thing to ask her to walk with me to safety, it’s another thing to ask her to get in a car to places unknown.

I know I’m asking a lot, but the stakes are high.

“She okay?”

I nod. “Shaken up.”

Davis presses his lips together, then gives me a wary look. “You sure you wanna do this? One of the other guys can handle it. You know we’re capable.”

He knows I’m too close to this. Hell, I know it too, but that’s not stopping me. I tell him what I told him earlier, when he asked me the same thing. “I need to take care of this one myself.”

He nods; he knew that’d be my answer. “Darcy packed a bag for her. I put it in the trunk along with a cooler with enough food for the next couple of days.”

“Thanks.”

Davis has connections and ways of making criminals back off. The guy who’s after Carson—Damien Hunt—has some skeletons in his closet that Davis is gonna bring into the light of day if Damien doesn’t agree to forget Hayley exists. Davis is the only man for this job; he knows how to finesse a situation, and he’s a powerful negotiator.

I’m more of a fan of brute force, and the situation with Hayley is far too delicate for that.

“You’ll let me know when you’ve taken care of the problem?” I ask.

“The hot second. And I’ll let you know when Garrett’s done with Carson.”

Davis and I shake on it, and he takes off as I walk over and open the door for Hayley.

“C’mon,” I say, giving her an encouraging smile. “Get in.”

She does not get in. Even though she’s still fidgeting with my jacket, she gives me a defiant look. It’s annoying as all hell given the circumstances, but admiration manages to break its way through.

“We don’t have time for this,” I tell her, impatiently casing the area. The longer we stand around, the greater chance we have of our streak of good luck ending, and I want to get out of here now. “I can’t keep you safe if you don’t trust me.”

She looks around, bouncing on the heels of her feet. Her resistance is crumbling.

“It’s just gonna be you and me,” I tell her. “No one knows where we’re headed, and no one will follow us. Everything’s gonna be okay, but we have to go now.”

She hesitates a second longer, then lowers herself into the car.