Trusting the Bodyguard. Kimberly Meter Van
could read her expression and give her one of his famous narrowed stares that would only make her blush harder. There were things she certainly did not feel like sharing at the moment and that included the details of her sex life. Up until two days ago, Archer had been the last person she’d been intimate with. She liked to tell herself that she just hadn’t found anyone compatible in that way, but you have to date to get to that next level and Marissa had buried herself in work, precluding a social life. “How have you been?” she asked, unable to stomach the silence between them. “You look good.”
He spared her a glance then returned his stare to the view, and she huffed a short breath. “I see. As soon as the baby is awake we’ll be on our way. Thanks for the bed and the pleasant company.”
The last part was probably in bad form seeing as she was the one who’d invaded his space without warning, but she was stung by his open rejection and her verbal filters weren’t functioning quite yet. She’d forgotten how rigid he could be, but it was all coming back to her in a rush of disappointment. When Archer chose to be obstinate, he took it to an art form.
“Marissa, we have to finish our talk from last night, remember?”
She stopped and turned. “The way I see it, we are finished.”
“Well, we’re not,” he said, stalking past her to the living room, expecting her to follow. She was half-tempted to charge right up the stairs just to give him the message that she didn’t take orders from him and never would, but she didn’t put it past him to throw her over his shoulder and toss her to the sofa if she tried, so she grudgingly followed. He took a seat in an oversize recliner that would’ve swallowed her but seemed to fit his frame perfectly and waited for her to sit down across from him. She gave him a cold look but sat without getting too comfortable. The tension between them was heavy enough to choke the oxygen from her lungs. “Baby still asleep?” he asked, throwing her off with his concern.
“Yes. She seems to take after her mom and likes to sleep in,” she said, covering her surprise with a bracing sip of her coffee. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I need to know everything that happened the night you took Jenna. Don’t spare any details.”
“Why?” she asked, hating to even think about that night and the ramifications. “It’s not necessary.”
“Let me be the judge of that. If you want my help, you’re going to be honest with me. I don’t want to be sucker punched by something later.”
It was a fair request. If only the details didn’t make her quake with equal parts revulsion and fear. She bit her lower lip, wondering how this became her life. Three days ago her biggest concern was whether her drug trial was going to be successful; now she was terrified of ending up like her sister and Jenna landing back in her father’s arms. Tears filled her eyes before she could stop them. She looked away until she could blink them back.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling in spite of her attempt to keep it level and calm. “I wasn’t thinking. I just came here because I knew that no one in Ruben’s circle would know about you or this place and I figured we’d be safe here but I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. It’s not fair to you and I’m so sorry.”
“You can always count on me, Marissa,” he said roughly, as if it cost him to admit that. “I know you wouldn’t have come if you didn’t think it was your last option but I have to know everything.”
She closed her eyes, blocking out the images that were stuck there. Sordid, disgusting and debasing images jumped to the forefront and she had to choke back a groan.
“What happened, Marissa?”
She looked away. “If I tell you, you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone else.” His pause made her jerk to face him and her heart squeezed painfully as she assessed him openly. His answer made the difference whether she shared or not. “Are you saying you can’t keep this between us?”
“Depends on what you tell me,” he answered, his tone deceptively mild, yet the burn in his eyes told another story. “I’m a federal agent. I can’t make the rules up as I go along.”
Contempt colored her voice. “Bullshit, that’s exactly what you do in that secret branch you work for. Eyes Only, plausible deniability…I’m not an idiot, Archer.”
“You just kidnapped the daughter of a known drug lord,” he countered, making her see red. It wasn’t as though she had a choice.
“He killed my sister! How could I leave Jenna with him?” Tears filled her eyes again but this time they were caused by rage, not fear or pain. “He’s a bastard who destroys lives. I couldn’t let her grow up with him. Not after what he did to her mother.”
Her outburst didn’t seem to sway him either way. She wiped at the moisture, irritation at his cold nature washing over her. She’d forgotten about that part of his personality, as well. Hell, had she remembered anything about him that was accurate? “You don’t know what it’s been like since Ruben came into our lives. It’s been hell.”
She didn’t want to tell Archer that she’d often felt Ruben’s gaze on her, sliding up and down her body, blatantly resting on her breasts as if it were his right to do so, not even hiding his perusal from the eyes of her sister. Mercedes had tried not to show that it bothered her, hurt her even, but toward the end, it had become unbearable. Marissa’s only escape had been work, the one place Ruben was not allowed access. The day Mercedes had decided to end the relationship, Marissa had nearly cried with joy. Looking back, she realized what fools they’d been to think it would be that easy.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, then clarified. “Physically.”
She resisted the urge to touch her bruised face. Technically, Ruben hadn’t lifted a finger. He had enough people around to do his dirty work. Upstairs the baby whimpered and she shot up. “Jenna’s awake. I have to go get her.”
Without waiting for his permission, she flew up the stairs and cuddled Jenna’s sweet, pudgy body against her own. “Good morning, mija,” she whispered against her niece’s crown and offered a word of gratitude to St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes, then prepared to return downstairs to the man who would settle for nothing but the truth.
The problem was, the truth was something he was likely to wish he didn’t know. God knows, she wished she could forget.
ARCHER DELIBERATELY KEPT his attention far from Marissa’s retreating backside as she hurried to get the baby. At one time, he’d thought their babies would be the ones she’d be tending but that hadn’t worked out so well. He gulped the rest of his coffee and then stood, unable to sit still any longer. His nerves were drawn tight and he was getting that edge that he always did at the start of an assignment. All that was missing was the actual assignment. And if the doc were to be believed…he was a long way from getting an assignment anytime soon. He swore and absently rubbed at his injury.
“What’s wrong with your shoulder?”
Marissa’s voice at his back made him turn to face her. He waved away the concern he saw there, uncomfortable with the way it made him want it. “It’s nothing,” he said brusquely. He gestured toward the baby. “Does she need anything?”
She eyed him hesitantly, as if doing an internal question-and-answer session to see how the conversation might turn out in real time, then nodded. “Diapers and milk.”
“Milk I’ve got,” he said. “Diapers I don’t.”
Her full, sensual mouth—he’d never quite forgotten how it felt sliding across his own—twisted in a wry grin. “Well, I’d have been surprised to hear otherwise. Is there a store close by I could go to? I need to pick up a few other things, too, before we take off.”
He ignored the part where she mentioned leaving and grabbed a magnetic notepad from the refrigerator door. She was crazy if she thought he was going to let her leave when there was a murdering drug lord on her back. Plus there was