The Guardian: DARYL (Cover Six Security, #2) Read online

  No smile. No nod. No shake of the head. Nothing. Just that wary gaze fixed on his as she kept clenching her fist around those braided handles of that damn tote. Yeah, he had definitely read the signs all wrong. Damn shame because now that he was closer, he could see she was definitely more than just cute.

  And he needed his fucking head examined for just standing there waiting for an answer that obviously wasn't coming. He took another step back and raised his hand in a lame ass farewell gesture. "Sorry. Didn't mean to bother you."

  He turned to leave, quickly scanning the small crowd by the pool and bar. At least none of his teammates were around to see him crash-and-burn. Christ, they'd never let him hear the end of it—

  "Kelsey."

  There was something about her voice that shot straight to his gut and unleashed a need he hadn't even acknowledged. Low, sultry, a little breathless even, like she'd just rolled out of bed after a night of hot, sweaty sex. Daryl schooled his expression, did his damnedest to hide his reaction when he turned back and caught her gaze for a brief second before she looked away. She pulled her full lower lip between her teeth, sucked on it long enough for his mind to go places it had no business going. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and readjusted the tote bag on her shoulder. Her body language screamed her caution. Not just caution, but hesitation as well, like she couldn't decide if talking to him was a good idea or not.

  She finally released that lower lip and with it, the band around his chest that had squeezed the damn air from his lungs. Her shoulders straightened and her chin came up just a notch and then, holy hell, she smiled. A small one, just enough to curl the edges of her soft mouth, but shit, it was enough to catapult her from cute to damn near mesmerizing.

  "Kelsey." He repeated the name, watched a blush stain her cheeks when he said it. But she didn't look away, not until he moved forward and held his hand out. Her glance drifted to his hand and he felt her hesitation, like taking it would mean crossing some kind of line in her mind. Then her hand was in his, her grip stronger than he had anticipated despite the slight trembling in those slender fingers.

  "About that drink—"

  "I think I can manage one." Kelsey smiled again, just a brief curl of her mouth. "Especially since you're treating."

  "Just doing my civic duty, ma'am. Dehydration can be an issue in this climate."

  Her delicate brows shot up. "Your civic duty, hm?"

  Daryl grinned then stepped to the side, allowing her to move beside him before leading her to the bar. He started to place his hand in the middle of her back, changed his mind at the last second and let it drop. "Of course. Is there anything wrong with that?"

  "No. I just wasn't expecting anyone to be concerned about their duty—civic or otherwise—while on vacation."

  "Old habits, I guess." He led them over to a shaded table near the bar and pulled the chair out for her. She shot him another of those odd glances then sat down, carefully tucking the tote bag between her feet. Daryl motioned toward the bartender then took the seat across from her. "So. Kelsey. Are you enjoying your vacation so far?"

  Her eyes slid away, darted back to his. "I'll let you know tomorrow."

  And whoa, okay. Was that a pick-up line or was he just reading into it? He started to ask—how he was going to ask escaped him at the moment—but the bartender had piss-poor timing because he came over for their drink order. By the time he walked away, Kelsey was already changing the subject.

  "You're military."

  It was a statement, not a question. Daryl shifted, ran one hand through his longer-than-regulation hair, offered her a quick grin. "Former military. What made you ask?"

  "You called me ma'am. I thought maybe you might be from the south but you don't have an accent." She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. "My next guess was military."

  Observant woman. And why the hell did that thought send up a caution flag in his mind?

  "Right on both counts. I'm originally from New York and I was in the Army until two years ago. How about you?"

  "No military for me."

  He had guessed as much, but that wasn't what he'd meant—and he had a feeling she knew it. "And you're from?"

  "Oh, here and there. I, um, I've moved around a lot." Her eyes drifted down and to the side when she answered. Definitely evasive. Fine by him. She was entitled to her privacy.

  "But you're American." A statement, one that drew a small smile from her.

  "Red, white, and blue, through and through."

  The bartender returned with their drinks—a beer for him, a frozen piña colada for her, along with two glasses of ice water. Kelsey reached for her drink, her slender fingers gently gripping the plastic straw as she guided it to her mouth. The sleeve of her gauzy cover-up fell back, revealing a tattoo on the inside of her left wrist.

  "Nice ink." And it was. Crisply drawn, the lines clear and bold. The Eye of Horus, a symbol of protection.

  And probably a hundred other different things, too.

  Kelsey placed her drink on the table then yanked the sleeve of the cover-up over her wrist, almost like she was trying to hide it. "Thanks."

  Daryl nodded, his mind spinning as he tried to figure out what the hell else to say. Conversation was never an issue on those sporadic occasions when he was in the mood for company back home. Hit the bar, meet someone, have a few drinks, see if there was any chemistry. If there was, they'd get together. No strings, no expectations, no hassles.

  Why the hell was this any different? Why was he searching his brain for conversation when all he had to do was invite her back to his bungalow?

  Because this was different somehow and he had no fucking clue why. Maybe it was the location, a small private resort on this tiny Caribbean island. Maybe it was the leftover atmosphere of the wedding. Not necessarily romantic—at least, not like those chick-flick movies or popular novels—but not exactly...

  He frowned, trying to figure out the right way to describe it—for maybe two seconds. Did he really care? No, he didn't. Especially not when Kelsey was watching him again with those hazel eyes.

  Unreadable hazel eyes. That struck him as odd. Most people did a piss-poor job of hiding their thoughts and feelings. Excitement, wariness, anxiety, happiness, fear—you name it, it generally showed in a person's eyes. But not Kelsey's, not since that brief shadow of fear and caution he'd seen when he first walked over to her. Her body language gave away more than her eyes did but even that was subtle, reserved.

  He realized he'd been staring when she sat back in her chair and raised one eyebrow in his direction. He shifted, cleared his throat, tried to come up with an excuse for being so blatant. He finally nodded toward the necklace around her throat. It was a polished black stone, hanging from a black leather cord. Nothing fancy, nothing special.

  "Did you get that here?"

  She reached up, curled her hand around the stone. And damn if another faint blush didn't just stain her cheeks. "No. No, I've had this for a few years."

  He leaned forward, caught himself when she moved back the slightest bit. "What is it? Volcanic rock or something?"

  She dropped her hand, nodded her head before reaching for her drink. "Volcanic glass, yes. Black obsidian. It's, um, for protection." She took a sip then waved her hand in a dismissing motion. "I mean, that's what someone told me. I have no idea if it really means that, I just like it."

  Her gaze darted away from his, just for a fraction of a second. And yeah, the blush flaring across her cheeks grew a little deeper. Was she embarrassed? Why? It wasn't like he cared. If she wanted to believe some rock had mystical powers of protection, more power to her.

  "Protection? Sounds like something I should look into carrying." Not likely. Not when he carried something a lot more lethal—and a hell of a lot more reliable—than some stupid chunk of rock.

  But the words had the effect he had hoped for because they alleviated some of her embarrassment. The blush faded as she propped both elbows on the table and leaned
forward, studying him with an earnest curiosity that surprised him. "And why would someone like you need protection?"

  Daryl paused with the beer halfway to his lips, his brows shooting up in surprise. "Someone like me?"

  Kelsey straightened, waved one hand at him. "You know—former military. You don't exactly look like you can't take care of yourself."

  "Thanks. I think."

  "You don't take compliments well, do you?"

  Daryl laughed, more to cover the fact that he was actually fucking blushing than out of any amusement. "Oh. Is that what that was? I wasn't sure."

  "It was." She leaned back, her steady eyes watching him for a few long seconds. "So, Daryl. What is it that you do?"

  "Do?"

  "Yeah, do. You know, to pay the bills. Private security? Hitman? Bodyguard?" A smile teased her mouth. "That was the winning guess last night at the wedding—that all of you were bodyguards."

  What the fuck? Had that been nothing more than a casual question? Something to fill the gap in conversation? Maybe—but it struck too damn close to home, which automatically made him suspicious.

  He took a long swallow of the beer to cover his pause then placed the glass on the table in front of him, cradling it between his hands. She was still watching him, that amused smile curling her full mouth. Curiosity danced in her eyes but there was something more there as well, something that said his answer held more importance to her than it should.

  What. The. Fuck.

  "I didn't realize you were here last night. On the beach, I mean." And yeah, that fucking bothered him, too, because he hadn't noticed her—and he should have.

  "I wasn't, not really. I mean, I wasn't watching like everyone else." She tucked the hair behind her ear and leaned forward to take a sip of her own drink. And damn if watching her wrap those full lips around that damn plastic straw didn't make all his blood rush south.

  He yanked his gaze from that perfect mouth—because yeah, his mind was working overtime on some serious fantasies right now and that was the last thing he needed—and met her gaze. "But you were here long enough to listen to what everyone was saying."

  Kelsey lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. "It was kind of hard not to. The wedding seemed to be the highlight of the excitement last night."

  Yeah, he could see that. But he still couldn't figure out if she was merely curious, or if there was something else behind her seemingly innocent question.

  "So." She leaned forward, a teasing smile on her face that didn't quite match the anticipation in her eyes. "Bodyguards? Or something else?"

  "Not bodyguards."

  She laughed, the sound husky, throaty. Too damn sensual for his own good. "I didn't think so. The groom looked like he was more than capable of taking care of himself."

  She had that part right, at least.

  Kelsey leaned back in the chair, rested her elbows on the armrest and carefully crossed her legs. The pose was open. Relaxed. Seductive? Possibly. He was picking up mixed signals and had no idea how to read them. Maybe this was the first time she had allowed herself to be picked up in a bar by a stranger. That would certainly explain some of the mixed signals.

  But it sure as hell didn't ease that little niggling of suspicion in the back of his mind.

  "If you're not bodyguards, then my next guess would be private security."

  "Yeah? And why is that?" And why the hell was she so damn interested?

  "You just have that certain look about you."

  "Which look is that?"

  She tilted her head to the side, studied him for a few seconds, then waved her hand in his direction. "Like you'd kick ass and worry about taking names later."

  The chuckle escaped him before he could swallow it back. Did he really give a shit if she seemed more interested in what he did than he thought she should be? No, he didn't. Maybe it was odd but hell, for all he knew, she was just trying to convince herself she was safe with him.

  He opened his mouth then snapped it shut when he saw a trio of men walking in their direction. Fuck. The last thing he needed was company, especially from those three. Boomer. Chaos. Wolf. And yeah, they had definitely spotted him and were heading his way, zooming in on him with the pinpoint accuracy of a surface-to-air missile.

  He bit back a groan and barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Kelsey shifted in the chair and looked behind her. Her entire body stiffened and she quickly turned back, some of the color draining from her face as she clutched the fancy glass between her hands. There was no misreading her now, not when her body language clearly screamed fear.

  Daryl leaned forward, dropped on hand on her arm for what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. "They're just my guys. They're perfectly safe."

  At least, she'd be perfectly safe with them. But how would she know that? Kelsey had no reason to trust him, no reason to believe him. She grabbed his hand and for a split-second, he expected her to brush it off, to tell him not to touch her. Her fingers entwined with his instead, their grip almost desperate when the men finally stopped at their table.

  Daryl looked up, met each of the men's curious stares, then shot a scowl in their direction that encompassed all of them. "Get lost."

  All three men ignored him, their gazes now focused on Kelsey—who no longer looked like she was ready to bolt, despite the grip she had on his hand.

  Wolf shoved his sunglasses to the top of his head and offered her one of his mega-watt smiles, the one that showed both fucking dimples to perfection. "Would your name happen to be Cinderella?"

  Chaos slammed his shoulder into Wolf's with a muttered, "Jesus." But did he do the smart thing and drag Wolf and Boomer away? Fuck no. Of course not. Instead, he turned to Kelsey and offered his own damn smile.

  Daryl bit back an oath and shifted in the chair. He was going to lean back—or maybe stand up and shove them all away—but Kelsey's hand still gripped his. And yeah, call him easy but no way was he going to let it go, not when he was enjoying her touch.

  "Kelsey, meet the guys. Sebastian. Derrick. Ryder." He nodded to each in turn, his use of their actual first names sending a clear message to all three of them. Her gaze skittered to his—wary, uncertain—then moved back to the three men before offering them a fleeting smile.

  She must not have been reassured because she pulled her hand from his and pushed her chair back. And dammit, she was leaving. There was going to be hell to pay later, involving some serious ass-kicking of three morons who didn't know when to fucking leave.

  Daryl stood, shot another death glare at the three morons in question, then stepped toward Kelsey. No idea why. Maybe to offer to walk her back to wherever she had come from. Maybe to ask if she wanted to grab dinner later. Hell, maybe for no reason at all other than to be close to her. Damn if he knew.

  And damn if it mattered because she turned to him, a hesitant smile curling her lips and a shadow of uncertainty in her eyes. But there was no uncertainty in that sexy voice of hers when she spoke.

  "Do you mind if we go somewhere more private?"

  Whoa. Yeah, okay. Private. He could totally deal with that. He nodded, moved close enough to place his hand in the middle of her back, and started guiding her away from his teammates.

  But not before throwing one last glance in their direction, the command in his eyes unmistakable. "Take care of the bill for me."

  Chapter Two

  The somewhere private ended up being Daryl's bungalow. And yeah, he'd hoped that was what she meant when she said it but now that they were here, he couldn't shake the slight hold of discomfort that had settled around him.

  Probably because Kelsey was uncomfortable. She paced the small area, studying the colorful prints on the wall and the decorations artfully placed around the room to add a little more tropical atmosphere.

  Thank God he'd made the bed before rolling out a few hours ago. He'd opted to forego daily housekeeping on general principle—the idea of anyone poking around his room made him twitch—but also because he didn't need it. Yea
h, making the bed was a habit he'd never get out of. Not that she noticed because her nervous gaze never once darted to the king-size bed at the far end of the studio bungalow.

  Talk about ignoring the elephant in the room.

  He moved to the small kitchenette—nothing more than a counter along the far wall with a small refrigerator, sink, and a two-burner cookstove. A microwave was set into the cabinets above the counter and a four-cup coffeepot—these people couldn't possibly be human if they thought that was big enough—sat on the corner. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water, cracked the lid on one and stepped into Kelsey's path to hand it to her. She stopped, her body jerking in surprise before her eyes darted to his.

  Yeah, definitely nervous. What the hell did she think he was going to do? Jump her? Not just no but hell no.

  He moved to the small sofa perpendicular to the sliding glass door and leaned against the arm. "We can head out to the beach if you want. I'm pretty sure I can find us a few lounges away from everyone else."

  "No." She shook her head, took a sip of the water and recapped the bottle then shook her head again. "No, this is fine. It's nice and cool in here."

  Daryl nodded, wasted a few minutes studying the grain of the faux-wood tile floor. Wasted a few more minutes guzzling some of the water. Watched Kelsey as she glanced around the room, her right foot rolling back and forth as she stood there.

  Yup, no doubt about it—she was nervous. Which made him wonder why the hell she had suggested coming back here in the first place. He pushed away from the sofa, ready to suggest again that they go outside, only this time it wouldn't be a question.

  "Do you mind if I play some music?"

  He hid his surprise, shrugged and nodded. "Sure. Help yourself." He expected her to pull out a cellphone, to call up a playlist and pop it into the notch in the alarm clock designed just for that. To his surprise, she moved toward the small entertainment system and turned on the stereo, scanning the channels before choosing one. Instrumental music infused with a touch of the islands drifted through the speaker. Mellow. Relaxing. Just loud enough to act as background noise to cover the awkward silence that had settled between them.