The Protector Read online

  Wren lifted a hand in the air. “I’m desperate.”

  “You can’t see me but I’m giving you the finger.” Damon yelled to make sure Wren heard him.

  Wren didn’t even turn around but he gave a little wave as he turned the corner. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Chapter 2

  Cate heard the knocking sound and looked around the windowless conference room to track it. Nothing obvious stuck out as she swiveled her chair from one side to the other, but the knocking stopped. That pretty much fit with her experience in the building so far. Plush and bustling with people inside. Outside, a nondescript beige building near Capitol Hill. She only knew the business’s official name—Owari Enterprises—due to the small plaque in the lobby. Not exactly where she’d expected the mysterious, everyone-wants-his-help DC fixer to work.

  Uncrossing and recrossing her legs, she went back to studying the files in front of her. The same ones she’d collated, created and read at least a hundred times each. Police reports. Interviews. Piles of paper that purported to tell Shauna’s story but really only told the pieces that people assumed explained how and why she died. Cate knew better.

  The door opened behind her. She didn’t look up, choosing to focus on the paperwork instead. Then her visitor’s legs came into view. Long, like stupid long. Her head jerked up and she caught a peek at the rest of him. Tall and sleek in his slim-fitting black pants and black short-sleeve shirt with thin white stripes.

  She tried to look away, not see how fit he was. Ignore the way his biceps strained the hem of sleeves. Pretend she didn’t notice how those pants balanced low on his hips, highlighting his long torso and flat stomach. The light brown hair and his shocking green eyes. So green. Like grass-on-a-summer-afternoon green.

  So far every man she met in this office gave off a hottie vibe. Men in suits. Men in casual clothes, all walking around, seemingly working hard with chiseled faces to match their impressive muscles. Almost like it was some sort of employment requirement.

  “Cate Pendleton?” The guy’s deep voice floated through the room.

  The knocking started again right after. This time it beat in time with the smack of her knee against the underside of the desk. The second she realized she was the one causing the noise, she stopped fidgeting.

  She gestured at the chair across from her at the wide conference table. “Take a seat.”

  But he didn’t move except for his eyebrow, which kicked up and somehow managed to make him look amused. “I’m guessing that means you actually are Cate Pendleton.”

  “Yes.” She assumed that was clear, but maybe there was more than one conference room with a lone woman on the edge in this place. “I have—”

  “Hello.”

  Good grief, that smile. He could sell anything to anyone with that dimple. Except her. She didn’t fall for that sort of thing. “What?”

  “I thought we’d do the old-fashioned thing and introduce ourselves.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Damon Knox.”

  “Okay.” Her gaze followed his arms and those long fingers. For a second all she could do was stare as mindless chatter rattled around in her brain. It took a few blinks for her to snap back to reality, shake and drop her hand to the table again. “Are you ready now?”

  “Sorry I got delayed. How are we doing in here?” Garrett McGrath said as he stepped into the room behind the other guy.

  She’d met this one before. He was Wren’s right-hand man and the one she dealt with because getting in to see Wren one-to-one proved impossible.

  She nodded toward Doug . . . wait, was that it? Her mind blanked out when he started talking. Not a state she was accustomed to. She blamed the secrecy covert crap she had to do to get on Wren’s radar. “Your guy is big on formal introductions.”

  “That doesn’t sound like him.” Garrett winked at her then closed the door and took the chair at the head of the table. He glanced at Doug, Dan . . . whatever his name was. “Sit.”

  He listened to Garrett and took a seat. Then he pointed at the shiny band on Garrett’s finger. “Congratulations. Gotta say, I never thought you’d get married.”

  Garrett laughed. “We were looking at takeout menus one night and I suggested we go to Vegas and get the deed done. Once she said yes, I couldn’t get her there fast enough.”

  “Couldn’t risk her changing her mind to that romantic proposal?”

  Garrett’s laughter only got louder. “Exactly.”

  Damon! Seeing the men go back and forth, paying her the same attention they paid to the plant in the room, sparked something and the name popped right into her head. One problem down. Now, on to the next one. “You two know each other? I mean, as more than fellow employees.”

  “Fellow employees?” Damon asked, stringing each word out likely as a signal he didn’t love the phrasing.

  Garrett shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Wait.” Damon turned to Garrett. “Are you Wren’s guy on the inside of Sullivan?”

  “I’m sitting right here, so no.”

  Enough boy talk. The whole conversation raced by without her understanding the context. She’d picked up the Sullivan reference, but little more.

  “Excuse me.” They both stared at her now. “I’m not sure if this is some sort of men’s-club thing, but is there any chance one, or both of you, would consider filling me in on what’s happening? Me being the client and all.”

  If Garrett was offended, he hid it well. At her slight outburst, he pivoted the conversation and focused on her. “Sorry about that. But yes, Wren has used Damon on other missions.”

  “How formal you sound,” Damon mumbled, not even trying to keep his voice low.

  “And he’ll be with you on this until he heads into Sullivan to collect intel,” Garrett said, almost talking over Damon. “I’ll be your contact on the outside.”

  She wasn’t convinced about this Damon guy or any plan to put him in Sullivan. Being hot didn’t qualify him for anything other than hotness, but he had said something pretty interesting. “But he mentioned you already have an inside man.”

  Damon nodded. “She’s not wrong. I did.”

  “If there’s a person inside, I should just skip . . .” She let her voice trail off when Damon frowned at her. “Well, I should work directly with that person and Damon can go do . . . whatever it is he does.”

  Garrett glanced at Damon. “I see you’ve made quite an impression on her.”

  They’d gotten way off track. She tried to steer them back to the case and Sullivan and this idea of an “inside” person. “I’m not trying to be offensive but—”

  “We should start over.” Damon leaned back in his chair and talked louder as the metal or wheels or something underneath him creaked. “I’m the one who’s going to look into your case with The Sullivan School and then I intend to charge Wren and Garrett, here, a boatload of cash for my valuable services.”

  Just what she needed, some guy with billable hours on his mind. She didn’t have that much money left. Her deal with Wren included a steep discount from his usual rate but she didn’t have any sort of agreement with Damon. “I hope not since that bill would get passed on to me.”

  “Take it up with Wren.” Damon lifted one of his hands then let it fall again. “Billing is not my department.”

  That was not the answer she wanted to hear. She needed to redirect and get them to come to an understanding. They needed to get moving. She didn’t have the time or will to postpone this last push one more minute with fights over money.

  She stood up and looked at Garrett. “May I see you in the hall for a minute?”

  “No.” The sharp word came from Damon. He gave his answer that sounded like an order, then stopped talking.

  Garrett actually rolled his eyes. “Oh, Damon.”

  With a heavy sigh, Damon leaned forward, balanced his elbows on the table and stared her down. “Look, I get that I’m not what you were expecting, even though I did put on my fancy clothes to meet you.”

&
nbsp; “You are . . .” Watching him now, getting hit with full intensity by those sexy eyes, words failed her.

  Garrett shook his head. “The right word will never come to you, so just stop there. Trust me.”

  “Probably true,” Damon said then kept right on talking. “I didn’t ask for this assignment. I’m doing it as a favor to Wren and to you.”

  She almost swallowed her tongue. “To me?”

  “You need someone intimately familiar with Sullivan. Someone who can get in and look around. Someone who can get the intel out of the people in there and use Wren’s inside source.”

  She had to give him credit because he had her attention now. “And that’s you?”

  He didn’t blink. “That’s only me.”

  This conversation got more interesting by the second. “Why you? What is so special about being Damon?”

  He shook his head. “You need to trust me on this.”

  She snorted. “I don’t think so.”

  “That would be a mistake on your part.”

  She couldn’t figure out if he’d slipped into blowhard mode or if the comment was genuine. From the look of him, all sure and not-trying-to-impress, he struck her as the kind of guy who could back up his boasts. But she’d been down wrong roads and followed so many false leads in the effort to find answers about Shauna’s death. The idea of getting lost in hope one more time only to find the promising direction led nowhere zapped the energy out of her. She’d tried for so long and this really felt like the last viable trail.

  But the sureness in his voice lured her in. Something about that confidence, almost cocky, made it tough for her to immediately discount him as a pretty face and move on. “Your ego is impressive. I’m wondering if the rest of you is.”

  The corner of Damon’s mouth kicked up in a sly smile. “Try me.”

  “Well.” Garrett clapped as he shifted in his chair. “On that note, why don’t we take a breath and figure out where we are.”

  But Damon didn’t back down. He never broke eye contact with her. “Not until Cate tells me how she got Wren’s attention.”

  Luck, pure luck. “Meaning?”

  “He’s elusive and particular about the cases he takes. Most people assume his existence is a rumor and not real. The rest of us know he works for governments and powerful people. Charges a crap ton of money for his services, which explains how he can afford to be choosy and mysterious.” Damon ticked off his arguments on his fingers. “None of that explains you. How did you get him to take on your case?”

  “I can be persuasive. You need to trust me on this.” She smiled as she threw his words back at him. When Damon didn’t move, didn’t say a word, she realized she sucked at this game. “And my neighbor is a friend of his.”

  “Who?”

  Cate searched her mind for a reason to hold back this bit of information, but she couldn’t come up with one. And when Garrett nodded at her, she took that as approval to keep talking. “Senator Sheila Dayton.”

  Damon blinked for the first time. “Ah, yes.”

  “Maryland. Tough with two kids and a husband who’s a professor at Howard University.” Garrett smiled. “And an old friend of Wren’s.”

  “I know who she is,” Damon said without looking away from Cate. “You asked her for help?”

  “Begged.” Cate refused to act like finding the information she needed didn’t matter, as if she could easily forget Shauna and move on. “That’s what you need to understand. I will do anything to get to the truth.”

  Silence filled the room. For almost a minute, the only sound came from the muted voices on the other side of the closed conference room door. Then Damon’s voice broke through the tense quiet. “Including lunch?”

  She looked from Damon to Garrett, hoping to get a little help since her Damon-to-English deciphering tool seemed to be malfunctioning. “What are you talking about now?”

  “The changing-the-subject thing?” Garrett shook his head. “He does that a lot.”

  Damon stood up. “Let’s get some food and you can fill me in on what you need and hope to gain here.”

  “But . . . but . . .” She looked at the stacks of files highlighting years of hard work sitting in front of her, all perfectly compiled so that she could walk him through the issues in a clear way. “Everything we need is right here. Police reports. The interview transcripts and the . . . the . . .”

  “I’ll review it all but first I want to hear what you need directly from you. Lines on a page only tell me so much. Your passion, your commitment, will tell me what I need to know.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Okay.”

  Garrett snorted. “Really? That speech worked for you?”

  “Sort of.” She figured it was easier to concede because she didn’t really care about food. And once she got him talking she might get a peek into what made him so confident and supposedly knowledgeable about Sullivan.

  Pick your battles. Her mother’s voice echoed in her brain. That’s exactly what she intended to do here, and she had a feeling with Damon she’d be picking quite a few as she struggled to hold her ground against his whirlwind of stubbornness.

  “We’ll be back.” Damon was already around the table and headed for the door.

  “So, I don’t get lunch?” Garrett asked, the amusement clear in his tone.

  “If Cate and I are going to work together, we need to be sure we can survive lunch.” Damon motioned for her to precede him through the door.

  “If he’s not coming, who’s paying?” she asked but she had a feeling she knew the answer.

  “I like you, Cate.” He guided her into the hallway. “And the answer, of course, is you.”

  Just as she thought.

  Chapter 3

  A half hour later, Cate looked ready to jump out of her chair. They sat in a self-professed American bistro a few blocks from Wren’s office. Damon picked it for proximity and name, but if the food tasted half as good as this place smelled, he’d be happy.

  It wasn’t even noon on a weekday and most of the tables were full. Waiters and waitresses bustled around the white-and-black checkered floor. From their table in the back, Damon could see it all, including the very antsy, very pretty woman in front of him.

  Her shiny, straight black hair fell over her shoulders. As she crossed and uncrossed her legs, her body shifted around. One minute she fiddled with her napkin, the next she wrapped her fingers around the armrests of the chair and held on as if she rode the wildest roller coaster.

  Damon wasn’t sure what was happening in her head. Probably a back-and-forth about him and whether he would be any help to her at all.

  He cursed Wren for putting him in the ill-fitting and always uncomfortable role of savior. He’d spent his life disappointing people. Apparently, now it was Cate’s turn.

  She finally broke the silence on a loud exhale. “We’ve studied the menu and ordered, had a few sips of water and looked around. Would now be a good time to get to work?”

  As she spoke, she pinned him across the table with a fiery look in those deep brown eyes. He’d been waiting for her to take control again, and she did not disappoint. Except for her meal choice. “You ordered a grilled cheese and salad.”

  She frowned. “So?”

  Her quick glance toward the door leading to the street suggested she was toying with the idea of making a run for it. Damon couldn’t blame her. He’d had the same run like hell sensation racing through him since Wren handed him her file.

  “It’s a burger place. The word burger is actually in the name of the restaurant.” Which was the main reason Damon picked this restaurant instead of something more out of the way and quiet.

  “I bet they have the unique skills required to make things with cheese.”

  Sassy, verbally punching out . . . he liked it. Even though she looked ten seconds from punching him, his initial thought was that he liked her. She fought him, didn’t back down and bullied her way into meeting Wren—or whatever na
me he used when they met. She used her contacts to hunt down the one person who might help her. All smart. Those were the moves of a survivor.

  Studying her wasn’t exactly a hardship either. The file Wren handed him listed her mother’s name as Emi Asato. A single mother who put herself through college while she raised Cate and her sister. Born in Ohio to parents who came to the US from Osaka, Japan, the woman buried one daughter while the other fought to find out the truth. Those facts made him respect the whole family. That kind of tenacity and strength always made him look twice.

  The rest of Cate, the long legs and sexy pronounced collarbone where her thin gold chain balanced, the way her white V-neck T-shirt highlighted high, round breasts and trim waist . . . well, those worked for him, too. From the way she walked to the way she talked, she intrigued him. He found himself wanting to know more about how she lived and what, other than her dead sister, mattered to her.

  He appreciated every inch of her, including that big brain that she didn’t hesitate to use to best him whenever possible. That was some pretty sexy shit right there.

  “Are you not a meat eater? Because that’s something I should know up front.” The kind of thing Wren should put in her file. Damon didn’t think that was too much to ask.

  As predicted, she frowned at him. Shot him one of those you’re-wasting-time looks that she’d been using on him nonstop since they met. “Are you serious right now?”

  “Because I eat a lot of burgers and if that’s going to offend you, I can eat something else. I won’t like it, but I will.” Her fidgeting must be rubbing off on him because he picked up his fork then set it down again.

  She leaned across the table. “How many burgers?”

  Now this was a topic he could handle. Especially since she asked the question in a soft voice, as if they were sharing a secret. “Every day.”

  She sat back hard in her seat again. “You do not eat a hamburger every day.”

  He ignored the horror in her voice. “True. Some days I mix it up and order a cheeseburger. If I’m feeling particularly frisky I’ll have a steak sandwich.”