Surface (Guarding Her Book 1) Read online

  GUARDING HER BOOK 1

  ANNA BROOKS

  They will risk it all to protect what’s theirs.

  Nobody gets in their way and nothing will stop them.

  These are the men of Royal Ace Security.

  Copyright © 2018 Anna Brooks

  Published by Anna Brooks

  Cover design by Cover Couture

  Editing by Editing4Indies

  Proofreading by Kimberly Holm

  Formatting by Champagne Book Design

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Notes and stuff

  Previews

  Other Books

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Dedication

  For Nicole.

  You’re an amazing friend and I’m thankful for you every single day.

  Royce is for you.

  Prologue

  Paisley

  He’s not even trying to hide. I think he likes to know he's making me nervous. I mean, come on, he stands out so much. He’s obviously older than all the other guys here. Taller. Bigger. Hotter. My back is to him, but I’ve felt his gaze on me all night, and right now I can see his reflection in the sliding glass door.

  Ugh. I walk out of the house party to get some fresh air. I always feel so… so short of breath when he's around. The long pebbled driveway circles in front of the white brick house, and when I reach the small rocks, I stop and turn around, knowing he's right behind me. Sensing him near like always. "What are you doing here?"

  Royce holds his hands out. "What? I can't come to a party? You know I love a good kegger."

  "I don't need a guard dog, Royce. Besides, you're too busy flirting with all the girls to even notice what I'm doing."

  He does that thing that makes my stomach all tingly, smiling just enough for his dimples to make an appearance. "I'm twenty-three years old, precious, got no inclination to go to jail over a little girl." I can't help the hurt that clogs my throat, and I cross my arms like it'll somehow guard my heart. When his green eyes dart to my chest, I'm the one smirking now. But just as fast as they were there, they go back to glaring at me, and I go back to feeling like a child under his inspection.

  "You can go report back to Derik that I'm fine, then you can leave me alone." Waving him off, I turn to head back into the house.

  "Sorry, no can do."

  Abruptly, my momentum stops, and he runs into me from behind. His hands, his strong hands, grip my arms above my elbows. I'm wearing four-inch heels, so his lips rest just at the top of my head, and the warmth of his muscular body saturates mine. One hand releases me, and the tip of his finger slides all the way down my arm. He's probably used to women who don't shiver from a single touch, but I'm not one of them.

  I'm a sixteen-year-old girl who has never even been kissed.

  "I've had eyes on you all night, and ain't nothin' gonna change that, precious. This dress…" His fingertip slides across my bare belly, and I sway. "It shows so much skin, and all these horny little fuckers are just waiting to make their play for you. Nobody's gonna touch this body while I'm around."

  I can't move. Can barely breathe. It’s not like this is the first time he’s touched me… but it is the first time he’s touched me like this.

  I jump when his hand touches my outer thigh. "So much skin. They're dyin' to get between your legs and see if the rest of you is just as soft."

  "Royce." I… what? Beg, cry, whine. I don't even know.

  "Yeah?" His scruffy face rubs against my neck, and his lips caress the shell of my ear. "Say my name, baby."

  "Royce."

  His throat rumbles, and then he's gone, leaving me a shivering mess. My throat tightens, and I put a hand to it, feeling my pulse throbbing against my palm. When I turn around, he's closer than I expected. I don't know what to say or even what I'm feeling. He dips his head and aligns our eyes but doesn't speak. I can't take the intensity, so I whisper, "Royce."

  His pupils flash, and his lips part. "That's why I'm here."

  "What?"

  He stands straight, over six feet of muscled man, and motions at my body. "'Cause someone gives you a little bit of attention, and before you know it, you'll be face down, ass up."

  I raise my arm to slap him, but he grabs my wrist. I try with the other one and end up with the same result.

  "You don't wanna hit me, Paisley."

  I struggle with him, but he's so strong. "Yes, I do."

  "You hit me, and I'll bend you over my knee."

  I gasp at his admission and lose any struggle I had. I drop my head so he won't see the tears welling in my eyes. He releases my arms, and I shove him before I turn around and make my way back to the house. Just as I touch the doorknob, he reaches me.

  "Shit, fuck. I'm sorry." He stands right behind me, much like he did on the sidewalk.

  "Just leave me alone."

  "Wish I could," he whispers. Reaching around me, he pulls open the door, and just as I make my way into the house, he says, "It'd help if you weren't so fuckin' beautiful."

  I stop dead in my tracks and put my hands on my hips, then glare at him over my shoulder. "Yeah? Well, it'd help if you weren't such a jerk."

  He has the nerve to show me his dimples. "Can't wait for you to grow up, precious. It's gonna be so good."

  I turn back around, and he at least looks shocked. “What’s gonna be good, Royce?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about and when it’s gonna happen.”

  I want to think I do, but he never actually says it, and the worst thing I can do is assume he feels the same way. Because when I find out I’m wrong, my heart will shatter. “Could you be any more frustrating?”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “There you are!” My friend Becky practically trips running to me. She comes to a halt when she sees I’m talking to someone. “Oh, sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” I turn my back to Royce and walk back in to the house party even though I’d rather be with him.

  She follows me, but when we get around the corner, she yanks me by my arm into a bathroom. “Who was that?”

  “Guess,” I say dryly. Everyone knows my father owns a security company, and it’s not unusual for one of the guys to follow me when I’m out. When I first got adopted, I liked it. It was freeing knowing that someone had my back. Now, it’s just annoying.

  �
��A bodyguard?”

  “Yup.”

  “Is that the one you have a crush on?” Her pretty blue eyes widen, and she fights back a smile, knowing damn well it is by my reaction. “I mean, I wouldn’t be mad if he was following me around.”

  “Yeah, he’s hot. I know.” I’m snippy because I don’t want her looking at him like that. Because he should be my boyfriend. Things should be different… but they’re not. Not yet. I take the tube of lipstick she hands me and reapply the bright red shade. “So what’s up?”

  “Aaron was looking for you.”

  I roll my lips together and hand her back the tube. “Why?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

  She rolls up on the balls of her feet and fixes a couple of my curls. “Let’s go find him.”

  “No, I mean it doesn’t matter because I don’t want to dance with him.” She ignores me as she tugs me through the bathroom, and I laugh at her excitement. “You’re going to rip my arm out of its socket.”

  “Sorry, sorry.” We get to the large living room where a makeshift dance floor has been set up, equipped with a DJ and all. We were just at a school dance, but apparently, people can’t get enough. Becky’s father owns a chain of hotels, and her house is quite literally a mansion. She always has parties like this, and tonight is no exception, though it’s the first time I’ve been to one. “There he is.” She points to the other side of the room where Aaron is talking to a couple of other guys. When we went to the actual dance earlier today, I didn’t even see him there, but I was just having a fun time with the few friends I’ve managed to make over the past couple of years.

  “So? You dance with him,” I whisper shout.

  “You’re an idiot if you don’t want to dance with Aaron.”

  I shake my head. Unless it’s with Royce, I have no desire to be with anyone else in any capacity. Nobody compares to him, and even if I can’t have him, I still don’t want anyone else. Since the very moment I laid eyes on him when he walked into my backyard almost three years ago, I haven’t even seen anyone else. Even knowing nothing will happen because he works for my father doesn’t change a single thing. “I really don’t want to.”

  “He’s coming this way,” she shrieks, and before I know it, she shoves me toward him, and I have to put my hands out to stop myself, and they land on Aaron’s chest.

  I immediately pull them away. “Hey.” I look up into his face, which, I have to admit, is pretty handsome. He has dark blond hair and his eyes are this cool amber color.

  “Hi, Paisley.”

  “Uh. Hi.”

  He nods, his eyes running down the length of my body, then back up. “I like your dress.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You look really pretty.”

  “Thanks.” I wave my hand up and down like Vanna White. “You look, ah, good too.”

  He smiles. “Do you wanna dance? With me?”

  “Um, actually—”

  He doesn’t let me finish before he pulls me to him, pressing his body against mine. God, he’s so irritating. He thinks because he’s the captain of the football team he can have any girl he wants. I put my arms between us, balling my hands into fists. “I appreciate the dance, but I have to go.”

  “Aww, come on, Paisley.” He puts his mouth to my ear. “You know you want to.” His hands settle on the small of my back, and the tips of his fingers caress my skin. I try to scoot away, but he shuffles even closer and dips his fingers lower.

  “You’re done.” Royce’s voice makes me jump as he pulls me away from Aaron.

  “What the hell?” Aaron reaches for me, but it only takes a split second for Royce to have his wrist bent back and Aaron yelping in pain as he shoves him across the crowded space.

  With an arm around my waist, Royce lifts me so my feet are off the ground and carries me outside where he heads directly to his car.

  I don’t bother to fight him, not that I want to, and sigh as he takes me away from the house party. “I was fine. I had it.”

  “Nope.”

  “Royce, I had it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Put me down.”

  He laughs, only holding me tighter. I kick out now, irritated that he’s acting like I can’t even walk. We’ve known each other for a couple years now and every time we’ve done something together, he’s protective. But this is over the top. “I can walk, Royce.” I finally connect with his shins.

  He grunts but doesn’t let up. “Told you, Paisley.”

  “Let me down.”

  He opens the passenger door to his car and sets me down on the ground. “I told you. Nobody else was going to touch you tonight.”

  “I know, I was there five minutes ago. I heard you. But was it necessary to make a big scene?”

  He nods. “His hands were on you. He was touching you. It’s my job to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  My embarrassment leaves in a loud swoosh of air out of my lungs at his words that hurt more than I ever would have expected. “Right. I’m just a job.”

  He doesn’t answer but clenches his jaw.

  “I see,” I whisper.

  “Paisley.” He lifts his hand, but I back away.

  “Just take me home.” I get in the car willingly, and he sighs deeply before shutting the door.

  On the drive home, I look out the window, refusing to cry. I absolutely refuse. I know that my dad hired him, but I also could have sworn something else happened between us tonight. His words were confusing me, but he just gave me all the clarity I need.

  When he pulls off onto a gravel road, I still don’t look at him. I hear the car being put into park and the clink of his seat belt unbuckling. “Look at me, Paisley.”

  I shake my head.

  “Please.”

  “It’s fine. Just take me home.” I know this feeling well—this stupid realization that someone just feels sorry for you—and it sucks. It just makes it worse that I crush on him so damn hard. It makes me want to hit something.

  I feel his hand on my chin, and unless I want a broken neck, I’ll have to look at him. So I slowly move just enough to see him. He brings up his other hand and pulls me closer to him. Like within inches. His eyes scrutinize me—searching for an answer maybe. But if he is, I don’t know the question. Then he presses his lips to mine.

  Oh. My. God.

  Good thing my seat belt is on because I feel like I’m floating. Like this is a dream.

  His tongue slides out and runs along my lips before he pulls away and closes his eyes. My neck no longer able to hold my head up, it falls so my forehead lands against his. It seems like forever before he finally looks at me again, and when he does, he simply says, “You’re not just a job.”

  Then he runs his nose along mine, and the gentle touch spreads throughout my entire body. He puts the car into drive and takes me home, white knuckles gripping the steering wheel. I wish I was more equipped to say something to him, but for fear of sounding like an idiot, I say nothing. When he stops in front of the house, he walks around and opens my door, then links our fingers as we walk up the steps.

  I put my hand on the knob, but he quickly covers it, halting me from opening the door. He looks over my shoulder, likely at one of the cameras, and mumbles something about Erik watching. Then he bends his head so his lips are right at my ear and whispers, “Stay sweet for me.”

  Chapter 1

  Paisley

  Two and a half years later

  “Please, just take it.” I plead with the man as he slams me against the bricks. My face instantly scrapes against the grainy wall in the deserted, stinky alley.

  “I don’t want your money, bitch.” He kicks my legs apart, and blood and tears drip down my face, the salty copper taste bitter enough to stir the bile in my gut. I swallow down the fear as I try to focus enough to survive and not do something stupid.

  I’m terrified. And even though I should be thinking of a way to get out of this or trying to
fight him off, I can’t help but think that my father was right. I should have listened to him. He owns a freaking bodyguard agency, so it’s not like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

  All I wanted to do was pursue a dream. I never had a lot of aspirations in my life… only one. And it was something I’d dreamed about ever since I was a little girl; to live in New York City.

  My birth parents met in this city. On a freezing cold New Year’s Eve many, many years ago, they kissed each other at midnight and were inseparable from then on. Even in death, they stayed true to each other and went at the same time.

  Plane crash.

  On their anniversary.

  I don’t dwell on their loss, and I also never had a chance to really. But the one thing I always promised myself… I only ever made this one promise, and here I am. Living in New York.

  My adoptive parents, Polly and Erik, have been so supportive. Polly more so than Erik because he didn’t want me going to New York at all. If he had it his way, I’d live with them forever.

  I fought with him, telling him I’d be fine and that nothing would happen to me. We got into it because he wanted to have a man on me, and I told him I’d never talk to him again if he made one of his bodyguards follow me. I needed to do this on my own. So much had been taken from me, and I needed to feel I had control over my life.

  Now, I wish I’d listened to him.

  I scream at my attacker to get off, figuring maybe if I make enough noise, he’ll run away or someone will hear me. But that only gets my head bashed into the wall.

  “Shut the fuck up.” He presses a gun hard into my temple as his other hand fumbles with his belt.

  This is not happening. I cannot let this happen.

  My dad has taught me enough self-defense to get myself out of a number of bad situations. But actually having a gun held to my head is terrifying.

  Knowing he only has the one hand, I take advantage and use both of mine to yank his arm away as I whip my head back, praying to do damage and not get a bullet in my skull. He wails as I feel a rush of moisture hit my scalp. I don’t look back as I run out of the alley and toward the sidewalk.