After that, Trent would be allowed to leave and no harm done.
She didn’t believe in Santa Claus, but Jamie believed in Tony. She swore under her breath. If only she’d picked a different week to come for a visit. She was due to fly back to the coast in two days. This was not how she wanted to spend one of her last evenings. Jamie took her job as a professional bodyguard seriously. She would never forgive Tony if he had lied to her.
With some concern, she studied the man on the backseat beside her. She hadn’t gotten much of the drug into him before he’d batted the syringe out of her hand, so there was no telling how long the effects would last. Jamie was thankful he was docile for now. While she was strong and knew some tricks, Harrison Trent was a trimly muscled man who emanated a sense of power even drugged.
And Elaine’s leering comments aside, his body went with his face. Trent was incredibly good looking and wealthy enough to be a target for all sorts of people. His bride was going to be very upset come morning.
Debt or no debt, Jamie heartily wished Tony had found someone else for this assignment. On the other hand, if she could prevent Trent from being killed, it was worth doing.
She sighed as the two women in front of her continued their bawdy discussion. No wonder Tony had wanted her in charge. Whether Trent liked it or not, she was going to do her best to guard his ruggedly handsome body until noon.
HARRISON FOUND HIMSELF swaying, groggy and confused as he stood on uneven ground. His back was pressed against a tall vehicle. He stared at the porch of the ratty old house in front of him, trying to make sense of where he was. He felt drunk. But he hadn’t drunk much and he never drank to excess. What was wrong with him?
“Come on, Mr. Trent.”
He wasn’t alone. Three people surrounded him in the humid darkness. Overhead, the sky blazed with stars. What had happened to all the city lights? He shook his head, willing the muzziness to go away, and nearly fell. Where was he? Who were these people? “Wha—?”
A woman took his arm. She was nearly as tall as he was, willowy and surprisingly strong for such a lean woman. He could barely see her features beneath the cap of short dark hair. She guided his shambling steps up the three stairs of the worn old porch.
This wasn’t right. He tried to tell her so, but the protest got all jumbled in his mouth. A second woman moved forward with keys. He reached for the door to hold it open for her and discovered his wrists were taped together. “Wha—?”
“It’s okay,” the woman holding his arm assured him. “Don’t worry about it.”
That didn’t seem right, either. He thought he should be upset.
The long-haired blonde finished unlocking the door and turned to stroke his cheek. “Hey, handsome, how’d you like to get it on?”
The woman holding his arm knocked the other woman’s hand aside. “Leave him alone.”
“Hey, I’m not territorial. We can all have some fun.”
“Don’t touch him.” Her voice was cold and filled with warning menace. Her fingers tightened on his arm.
“You aren’t in charge here.”
“Yes,” she told the other woman, “I am. I’m his bodyguard.”
“Ha! Nice work if you can get it.”
“I did, so back off.”
“Chill out. He won’t remember any of it.”
“But I will.”
The words were spaced and deadly calm. Even Harrison’s befuddled mind registered the threat and the challenge behind her words and stance.
“Fine, Miss Priss. I guess you want him all to yourself. C’mon, Kirsten, let’s go see what they have to drink in this place. Dancing makes me thirsty as well as horny.”
“I need my car keys,” his bodyguard told the other woman.
“What for?”
For an answer she held out her hand and waited. The brunette with the ponytail fished a set of keys from her pocket and tossed them in his direction. The woman holding his arm caught them out of the air before he could flinch away.
“Where do you suppose Tony found someone like her?” the blonde asked.
If there was an answer, Harrison didn’t hear it. His captor led him down a hall into a small room. A single overhead bulb revealed a neatly made bed that took up most of the available floor space. There was nothing else in the room. Seeing the crisp white cover, he realized how tired he felt. He struggled to free his hands.
“Take it easy, Mr. Trent.” She pulled down the cover.
“M’hands.”
“It’s okay. You’re going to be fine. Have a seat.”
Even sitting on the side of the bed as she’d instructed felt wrong. His head hurt, and his brain couldn’t seem to sort out what was happening.
She pulled off his shoes and set them on an old dresser. A knife appeared in her hand. Her features were unreadable as she slit the tape binding his wrists together and quickly pulled it off, making him wince.
“Sorry. Let’s get your jacket off.”
There was a sense of déjà vu as she divested him of his suit coat. His movements were oddly disconnected. His hands fumbled and didn’t work right, but bit by bit his mind was starting to clear. This was definitely all wrong.
He considered trying to overwhelm her, but his body still felt too uncoordinated. Mentally, he struggled to put the pieces together, getting a jumble of confused images. One thing was clear, he needed to get away from these women.
Reaching for her, he yanked the woman down on top of him. The move caught her unprepared. Together, they collapsed on the wide bed.
“Mr. Trent—”
She struggled and he held on tightly. The feel of her moving against his length aroused him. She smelled good. He’d always liked coconut. And she fit nicely. He covered her lips with his own. They were exquisitely soft.
For a startled instant, she lay over him, quiescent. His body hardened. He wanted her. And that was also wrong.
As if in agreement, she resumed her struggle to pull away.
The keys! He managed to dip into the pocket where he’d seen her put the car keys, making the action part of the silent battle they waged. She pulled away and stood as he rolled on top of the keys, praying she hadn’t noticed them fall to the bed. He shifted to cover them as she pulled a roll of duct tape from a different pocket and ordered him to hold out his hands.
“You first.” He tried to smile and felt a foolish grin split his face.
Her mouth firmed. “This isn’t a game, Mr. Trent.”
“It could be.”
“Don’t make me drug you
