The Bodyguard

A Fake Marriage Romance

Table of Contents

Prologue: Nancy

Chapter One: Nancy

Chapter Two: Lance

Chapter Three: Nancy

Chapter Four: Lance

Chapter Five: Nancy

Chapter Six:  Lance

Chapter Seven: Nancy

Chapter Eight: Lance

Chapter Nine: Nancy

Chapter Ten: Nancy

Chapter Eleven: Nancy

Chapter Twelve: Lance

Epilogue: Lance

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This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental.

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Prologue: Nancy

Rain spilled out of the sky, soaking the large crowd of people rushing into the ancient church in front of me. I gazed at them numbly through the tinted back windows of the spacious black car I was sitting in. I had been sitting there for a half hour watching as people shuffled into the church, trying to psych myself up to going in myself. Funerals had always been difficult for me, but the funeral of my father, well, that was incomprehensible. Ever since my mother had died, my father had been everything to me, both mother and father. I loved him more fiercely than anything in this world. And now he was gone, ripped from me sooner than either of us had anticipated.

“Miss Corrigan, it’s almost time,” my driver, Jim, called from the front seat.

I steeled myself against his sympathetic look and took a deep, shuddering breath. I could do this. I had to do this.

“Yes, thank you, Jim. I’m ready,” I said, shocked that my voice sounded calm when a tempest of grief raged through me, shredding my insides and making it difficult to breathe.

Jim stepped out into the cascading rain, unfurling a large, black umbrella before opening my door. I took his offered hand and schooled my features into the same blank look I had practiced for hours in front of the mirror. My mind flitted back to that long ago day when I stood beside my mother’s grave, my father’s hand clasped in my own.

“Never let the world see you cry, Nan,” my father had said gruffly, wiping away my tears.

“Why?” I had whispered my five-year-old voice small and scared.

“Because the world will use those tears against you,” my father had answered, pulling me away from the dark hole in the ground that would soon hold my mother’s cold body.

I had taken the advice to heart, and that had been the last day I had ever cried in front of another person. The memory brought a sharp dagger of pain to my gut and I stumbled, slipping off one of the stone stairs leading to the oak doors of the church. A firm grasp on my arm stopped my fall, and I looked around to see my savior. I managed not to jerk my arm away with a hiss of disgust, but only just barely.

William Jameson stood next to me, his hand gripping my arm. I had never pinpointed exactly what I thought wrong with him; all I knew was that William Jameson made my skin crawl and my blood freeze. Today was no different, and I was glad I had spent hours in front of the mirror practicing my poker face, as my dad called it. Used to call it, I thought grimly.

Clenching my jaw into a tight smile, I wriggled my arm from William’s clutch. He was wearing a dark grey suit with a pinstriped shirt and a red necktie. He had slicked his brown hair back from his forehead; displaying the wrinkles of age that remained no matter how often William got Botox to remove them.

“Thank you,” I said my voice still calm and emotionless.

He gave me a smile that looked more like a leer. William was a partner in my father’s company and had been a constant visitor to our sprawling family home. It didn’t make him any more likeable. And yet, my manners forbid me from doing more than nodding politely before walking up the rest of the stone steps. I paused for just a moment at the threshold before pushing through the oak doors and striding up the long aisle of the chapel. Friends, family, and strangers stopped whispering long enough to watch my progression toward the open casket waiting at the end of the aisle.

Hot tears escaped down my face as I gazed at the last member of my family, lying peacefully in silk. I reached down and grasped my father’s cold hand in my own. The long years of my life seemed to stretch before me in a narrow road of loneliness and isolation. My father had been all I had for so long; I wasn’t sure how I could survive without his steady presence.

With a shuddering breath, I pulled myself together. It took three steps to get from the casket to the front pew. I kept my eyes trained on the floor as I took those steps and sat down.

The preacher stood at the pulpit and spoke about my father’s charity and kindness. He spoke of a life brought to a close too soon and a legacy that would stand the test of time. I suppressed a shudder as every eye in the cavernous room turned to me.

Legacy, I thought bitterly. Who gives a damn about legacy?

The organist began playing as six of my father’s employees stepped forward, lifting his casket on their shoulders. Every note that fell was like a pierce to my heart. Swallowing a sob, I stood and followed my father out the door for the very last time.

I gazed out the car window the entire ride to the cemetery. My mind raced with memories, chasing themselves around my brain until I couldn’t remember which came first. Jim helped me out of the car once again before handing me the umbrella. I focused on the pit pat of rain on the umbrella as I walked toward the people crowded around the casket. The preacher droned on for a few more minutes, mentioning the same buzzwords as before. When the bagpipes played the first notes of Amazing Grace, I jumped.

Was it time already?

I watched numbly as the machine lowered my father’s cold body into the ground with audible clicks and pops from the belts. Grasping a handful of wet dirt, I walked to the edge of the grave and gazed down at the lily-topped casket. I tossed the dirt in with a loud sniff. Adjusting my grip on the umbrella, I turned my back and walked away. Whatever we had just buried, it wasn’t my father. My father was gone.

I let Jim help me back into the car and had him drive me to my father’s house. Or, my house now, I guess. I stood in a daze, welcoming sympathetic guests and mourners into my childhood home, drifting among them like a ghost. They brought enough food to last two months, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat a bite. Grabbing a bottle of wine, I escaped into the kitchen, allowing the caterers to flit by me. It was there that our faithful housekeeper, Elsa, found me. I had drunk half the bottle of wine, and was seriously contemplating opening the good stuff, when she bustled in like a mother hen.

“Miss Corrigan,” she said in her familiar southern drawl. “There are some detectives here to see you.”

I blinked up at her. She gave me a sympathetic cluck, swiping the half empty bottle off the counter and gesturing behind her. I squinted at two middle-aged men in dark suits.

“Yes?” I asked with a slight slur. They exchanged a glance, but were too polite to say anything about my obvious drunkenness.

“Miss Corrigan?” one of them asked. “Nancy Corrigan?”

“Yes?” I repeated stupidly.

“My name is Tom Jacobs,” the same one answered. “And this is my partner, Jesse Smithwell”—he gestured beside him—“We would like a few minutes of your time.”

“I’m a little busy,” I answered, scowling.

“It’s about your father’s death,” Detective Smithwell said, not unkindly.

That sobered me a little. “What about my father’s death? The doctors said he had a heart attack.”

The detectives exchanged looks. “We found evidence that suggests someone poisoned your father,” Detective Jacobs said bluntly.

I slipped off my chair in shock, landing with a thump on the floor. Both men moved to help me up, but, swearing, I waved them off.

“Are you telling me,” I snapped. “That someone murdered my father?”

“We believe so,” Smithwell answered. “We also think your life may be in danger.”

I blinked at him.

“We would like to offer you police protection,” Jacobs said gently.

I shook my head. “I have personal security.”

Jacobs nodded. “We’ll need the number of whoever’s in charge of that security. Until we catch your father’s killer, you’re in danger, Miss Corrigan.”

I stared at him blankly for a moment before turning and rummaging through my purse. I brought out my phone, looked up the number for Malcolm Shieldman, and scribbled the number on a sheet of paper.

“This is the number of Malcolm Shieldman. He’s the owner of Shields United, our security firm,” I explained, handing the paper to Detective Jacobs.

He took it, nodding.

“We are very sorry for your loss,” Detective Smithwell said. “We’ll do everything we can to catch the person responsible.”

I nodded, too numb to feel scared. Elsa came and saw them both out, leaving me to my thoughts. I gazed around the empty kitchen.

When did everyone go home?

With a choking sob, I sunk to my knees. I let the tears stream down my face in hot streaks. Grabbing my stomach, I rocked back and forth, a strange keening in my ears. It wasn’t until Elsa came running in, wrapping her soft arms around my shoulders, that I realized the keening was coming from me. I let Elsa hold me as grief and rage wracked through my body. There would be time enough for blank faces and dry eyes. Tonight I would let go. Tonight I would grieve. Tomorrow… well, tomorrow I would plan.

Chapter One: Nancy

Three Months Later

My stomach flipped as my sleek, black car pulled up to the skyscraper that housed my father’s legacy. Corrigan Enterprises was the largest real estate development company in the Western Hemisphere. We owned hundreds of hotels, casinos, and resorts around the globe. My father had also begun branching out into military and government buildings before he died. It was a daunting legacy to inherit.

I had taken the last three months off, working remotely and allowing the board to make most of the day-to-day decisions. Then, I got a phone call last week from my father’s most trusted advisor and friend, Jackson Warrick. He had asked to meet, and, feeling lonely, I had jumped at the chance to connect with anything to do with my father.

The meeting hadn’t been the comforting rendezvous I had imagined, however. Jackson had told me how William Jameson was attempting to bully the board into selling off and cancelling multi-million dollar contracts that my father had worked tirelessly to obtain.

It was the kick in the pants I needed to come out of my self-imposed exile and grasp the reins of a company I had been born to lead. I knew the task ahead of me was a daunting one, but I had a new determination to see my father’s work mean something. I would do his legacy proud while using all the resources I could to find his killer.

Sighing, I allowed Jim to help me out of the car. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. I smiled my thanks and gazed up at the 76-story building in front of me.

“Miss Corrigan?” a deep, husky voice asked, drawing my attention back to earth. I glanced at the owner of the voice, my breath catching in a silent gasp.

Standing over six feet tall, a Viking warrior gazed down at me with dark, unreadable eyes. I took a step back, eyeing the expensive black suit that did absolutely nothing to hide his muscular body. His face was rectangular with sharp lines and a strong jaw. A dusting of a beard caressed that jaw, traveling around and above his full lips. His dark hair was long, trailing a little past his ears, and slicked back from his handsome face.

“Yes?” I croaked.

“My name is Lance Savage,” he replied, smirking slightly. He hadn’t missed my intense inspection of his body a few seconds ago.

“And?” I answered, flushing.

“I’m the new head of your security detail.”

“What happened to Finn?” I asked, frowning. Finn had been in charge of my father’s security and no one had discussed this last minute change with me. It was unlike Malcolm Shieldman to change things up without notifying me first.

“Finn got called away last minute,” Lance answered, glancing around us. “Malcolm assigned me as a replacement. We should get inside, Miss Corrigan.”

“It’s Nancy,” I snapped. “And why didn’t Malcolm tell me this himself?”

“He had trouble getting in touch with you,” Lance answered, studying me. “You weren’t answering your personal phone, so he called the main office. That man Jameson coordinated my replacement in your stead.”

I narrowed my eyes. While I had turned my personal phone off a lot and hadn’t bothered to answer or return any calls but the ones from Jackson and Elsa, it galled me that Jameson had coordinated my personal security rather than Jackson.

“Jackson Warrick approved the switch as well,” Lance replied as if reading my mind.

That Jackson approved of him made me feel a little better. I nodded, averting my gaze from his near perfect face. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Just that we’ve increased your security since the news of your father’s murder,” Lance answered, taking me by the elbow and steering me toward the glass doors of the building.

I flinched at the casual mention of my father’s murder. “What does that mean?” I asked, swallowing hard.

“Just that instead of us securing you from a distance, you will have a constant bodyguard,” Lance shrugged, pushing me through the doors and into the cool interior of the building.

“The same person?”

“Precisely,” Lance said.

“Let me guess,” I snapped. “You are my new bodyguard?”

Lance smirked and nodded, leading me to the elevators. “And I can assure you, Nancy,” he murmured, leaning dangerously closer, and I shivered as my name dripped from his sensual lips. “I will thoroughly enjoy guarding such a beautiful body.”

He winked, making me flush. I intended to tell him off, but the intensity of his gaze caused the words to die on my lips. His dark blue eyes drew me in, mesmerizing me with the inferno locked deep within their depths, promising me something primal I had only ever found in my darkest dreams.

The ding of the elevator broke whatever spell he held over me. I cleared my throat and backed away from him quickly, disconcerted that I had gotten so close to him in the first place. Scowling at him, I stomped onto the elevator, ignoring his deep chuckle and the shivers it sent down my spine. He followed me onto the elevator, still smirking. He swiped his security tag over a small black box and pressed the button for the top floor.

“Hold the elevator!” someone shouted from the lobby.

I flung an arm between the doors reflexively, allowing a tall, dishevelled man with a briefcase into the elevator with us. An awkward silence descended as the stranger swiped his tag over the same box and pushed the button with the number 75 on it, for the floor under ours. I frowned. Jackson had told me that that floor was under construction.

“What’s wrong?” Lance asked his breath hot in my ear.

I turned to answer him and barely had time to register the flash of metal before Lance slammed me into the wall behind him. I watched in growing horror and shock as Lance’s arm shot out, blocking the assailant’s large knife. Lance’s other arm swung around, his palm flat and fingers extended. He thrust the flattened hand hard into the stranger’s chest, flinging him back into the opposite wall of the elevator.

With a snarl, the assailant jumped toward Lance, slicing the back of his arm with the knife. Blood dripped from the wound, but Lance hardly seemed to notice it. He used the same flat-handed manoeuvres to disarm the stranger. The knife dropped to the ground with a clatter while Lance ducked under a furious fist aimed at his face. Using the other man’s weight and momentum against him, Lance pushed the assailant to the floor, swinging the snarling stranger’s arm behind his back.

“Stop the elevator!” Lance barked at me.

Scampering over to the key pad, I slammed my hand down on the emergency stop button, bringing the elevator to a screeching halt. I turned back to Lance, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Who sent you?” Lance growled at the assassin in a low, dangerous voice.

The man swore at him. Lance put more pressure on his arm.

“Who sent you?” Lance repeated, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

“Fuck you,” the man spat from his trapped position on the floor.

It was the wrong thing to say because Lance pushed the man’s arm a little harder, and a sickening pop echoed off the elevator walls. The assailant screeched in pain.

“Who sent you?” Lance roared, shoving his hand into the dislocated shoulder.

“Go to hell!” the man shouted.

“Hand me his knife,” Lance ordered me, never taking his eyes from the attacker’s face. I hesitated for two heartbeats before leaning down and grasping the large knife in shaking hands. I handed it to Lance and quickly backed away, bumping against the elevator door.

“Get back over here,” Lance snapped. “I need your help.”

“I don’t—”

“Now!”

Grimacing, I scooted up next to Lance, my stomach turning over.

“Hold his arm,” Lance commanded. “Just like I am. Don’t worry, he won’t be going anywhere.”

I really didn’t like the sound of that, but I obeyed. Grabbing the stranger’s arm, I held it exactly as Lance told me to. Stepping over the man’s body, Lance grabbed his other arm and jammed the knife through the attacker’s hand. An agonizing scream pierced the small space as I fought to keep my breakfast down.

“Do you know how many nerves are in the hand alone?” Lance growled into the man’s ear. “I can do this all day.”

He twisted the knife, pulling more screams out of the man on the floor. I gripped his arm tighter, sweat beading on my brow and dripping into my eyes.

“You fucking bastard,” the assailant spat.

“Who. Sent. You?” Lance asked his voice low and dangerous. When the man didn’t answer, Lance twisted the knife again.

“Jameson!” the man screamed, thrashing around.

Shock thrummed through me and I dropped the man’s arm. The injured man immediately brought his arm close to his chest, most likely to protect it from any more harm.

“Why?” Lance asked his voice still low and sharp.

The man didn’t answer, just kept thrashing around in pain. Lance showed no emotion as he flipped the man onto his back. He swore as foam dribbled from the stranger’s mouth and the thrashing finally stopped. His body went limp and his eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling.

“Is he…?” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Dead,” Lance confirmed, releasing the man with a look of disgust. “Cyanide.”

Lance reached over and pushed the emergency stop button again, forcing the elevator to stutter into movement. The elevator dinged and opened to reveal a half dozen security personnel, their guns trained on the elevator. Security must have been alerted when my elevator stopped. They lowered their weapons when they saw Lance and me with the dead body. I gazed numbly around as Lance explained to the men what had happened.

“Get Malcolm on the phone,” he barked at one of the black-suited men, firmly gripping my arm and dragging me off toward my father’s office.

My office, I corrected myself silently. I closed my eyes and allowed Lance to guide me through the strong oak doors, swallowing against the nausea building within me. As soon as Lance closed the doors behind us, I wrenched my arm free of his grasp and emptied my stomach into a nearby trash can.

Chapter Two: Lance

She really is beautiful, I thought to myself as Nancy Corrigan heaved into the trash can. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back in silky waves. As another heave overtook her, a few strands escaped and fell over her shoulder.

Sighing, I strode over and grasped the wandering strands in my fist, pulling them back from her face. It had been too long since I had been around someone as delicate as the woman in front of me. I waited patiently for her sickness to abate itself, studying the hair in my hands. There was just a hint of strawberry to the blonde I had missed upon our initial meeting downstairs. In my defence, surveying the surrounding area and answering her questions had taken most of my attention.

I let go of her hair as she straightened up and wiped her mouth. I ignored her embarrassed look. Moving over to a minibar in the corner, I poured a measure of whiskey into a glass, handing it to her.

She looked at it dubiously. “It’s nine o’clock in the morning.”

“You need something to calm your nerves,” I answered, pressing the glass into her hands. “At the very least, you can rinse your mouth out.”

She flushed but fell silent as she sipped on the whiskey, which gave me a chance to study her with nothing to distract me. She was taller than what I had expected, the top of her strawberry blonde head coming to my nose. Her silky tresses framed a soft oval face before falling past her shoulders almost to her waist. She had full pink lips, a pert little nose with a small bump on one side and breath-taking aquamarine eyes.

Nancy Corrigan had an hourglass figure that usually only existed in a man’s deepest fantasy. Her eyes had stolen my breath, but her figure had drained all the blood into my lower region. Her full breasts strained against her dark grey button-up shirt, and her black pencil skirt hugged her trim waist and wide hips. I let my gaze travel down her shapely thighs and legs, all the way to her three-inch stiletto heels. That explained the height. I shook away the image of her wearing those heels and nothing else, on her back with said heels in the air. Now was not the time to be thinking like that.

“You’re bleeding,” Nancy whispered, nodding at my arm.

I twisted around to look at the back of my arm where the bastard had sliced me. With a sigh of disgust, I ripped my jacket and shirt off to get a better look at the cut.

“Here, let me help you,” Nancy said, setting her glass down and pulling a large first aid kit off the wall.

“I’m fine,” I snapped. I hated it when people saw me hurt. It showed weakness that wasn’t there and reminded them I was mortal just like them.

“Don’t be stupid,” Nancy huffed. “You can’t reach it yourself.”

I ignored her and attempted to bandage the wound anyway, failing miserably.

“Fine,” I growled, tossing the gauze at her. She caught it and moved behind me to examine the wound.

“It looks like it might need stitches,” she said after a while, her voice nervous. “We should go to the hospital.”

I shook my head. “Not a chance.”

I pulled a suture kit out of the first aid kit beside her. When I handed it to her, the little color left in her face drained.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Nope,” I answered, moving so she could get a good look at the cut.

She stood silent for a few more minutes before turning back to the first aid kit, muttering darkly under her breath. Something about men and pride. Her angry, flushed cheeks looked absolutely delicious, so I leaned back and watched her through half-closed eyes. She rummaged around in the first aid kit, pulling out bottles and bandages before swallowing the rest of her whiskey. She glared at me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me over to the large oak desk facing the window. I gave her an exasperated look.

She tapped her foot impatiently. “I need the light.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled the blinds closed. “Do your best without it.”

She rolled her eyes and started flinging things off her desk onto the floor. After manoeuvring me into a sitting position on the desk, she poured a clear liquid right onto the wound, causing me to hiss in pain. She smirked as she wiped the blood off my arm.

“Was that entirely necessary, Miss Corrigan?”

“Nancy,” she corrected. “And it was if you don’t want an infection.”

I grumbled, but let her continue her cleaning. She was probably right. Who knew what was on that blade?

“Why do you think Jameson wants to kill you?” I asked, making her jump. “Easy,” I warned. The last thing I needed was to be impaled by a suture needle because my nurse was too jumpy. Nurse. Hmm, now there’s a thought.

“I have no idea,” Nancy answered, bringing me out of my naughty thoughts and back to the present.

“You must have some idea.”

“The only thing I can think of,” she answered, glaring at me, “is that with me gone, he stands to inherit the entire company for himself and his family.”

I stared at her for a moment. “Yes,” I said a hint of condescension in my voice. “That would be a really good reason to want you dead.”

She whacked me on my good arm before slipping on a pair of sterile gloves and threading the needle from the suture kit.

“It didn’t occur to me that someone would kill me for 60% of a company,” she whispered, her face turning red.

“Really?” I asked, disbelief coloring my voice.

She sighed, jabbing the needle into my skin. I kept my face blank; years of Krav Maga and other martial arts training had taught me to hide my pain behind a blank mask.

“Okay, yes. It had occurred to me, and I was going to talk to Malcolm about it. After doing a little investigation into my father’s death, I began to suspect William. I already tried the police, but they have no evidence against him. It’s one reason I came back to take over the company. I have more resources here to find answers than I do holed up in my home mourning the only family I had left.”

I swallowed, feeling uncharacteristically guilty for forcing her confession. It made sense she would go to Malcolm about her suspicions but not share them with me. She didn’t know me. Malcolm, however, she had known for years.

Malcolm Shieldman was the owner and head of Shields United, the firm in charge of Nancy’s security. He was also my father. In a few years, Malcolm wished to retire and hand the whole company over to me. Before doing that, I needed—and wanted—to learn everything about the company from the ground up. I convinced my father to hire me out as security within the firm so I could gain a better understanding of what we do. It wasn’t difficult to convince him. I had studied Krav Maga and an eclectic mix of other fighting styles for twelve years now, and I knew how to take care of myself. From there, it was only a matter of changing my last name to my mother’s maiden name and being assigned a job.

This was my third job. My first job had been to escort a pop singer on her world tour. It had been a year of listening to awful music and muscling obsessed fans, but the job itself had been uneventful. My second job had been to escort a foreign dignitary to a hostile country for peace talks. That one had been a little more eventful. It had been the first time I had to kill for Shields United, but I took comfort in knowing the people I had killed were bad people.

I had just gotten back to the States three months ago when my father approached me about this job. He wanted someone he could trust to watch over Nancy while he figured out how someone had poisoned her father on our watch. I had accepted, something about Nancy’s story tugging at me.

As I gazed at her soft face, I noticed a slight dusting of freckles she had tried to cover up with makeup. Her eye makeup was a little smudged from her earlier bout of nausea and vomiting, but the messiness gave her a softer, more delicate air.

“I think we should call the police and tell them what that assassin said.” Nancy’s soft suggestion snapped me out of my thoughts.

“No,” I answered a little too sharply.

She looked up at me, frowning.

“No,” I continued, more gently. “We don’t have any proof, and Jameson is a powerful man. Without proof, there’s nothing the police can do. Malcolm is already investigating your father’s murder, and he intends to find the proof needed to put the murderer—to put Jameson away for good.”

“He is?”

“Of course he is,” I replied defensively. “He killed your father on our watch. We take that seriously.”

Nancy didn’t reply. She finished sewing up my wound and covered it with gauze, then reached into the first aid kit and took out a roll of bright pink self-adhesive tape. I glared at her.

“It’s the only color in there, and you need to keep it wrapped,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. She wrapped my arm and then took a few steps back.

I caught her hands and pulled her in front of me. “I promise you,” I began, stroking her hands with my thumbs. “We will find the proof to put him away.”

She nodded.

“I need you to tell me more about why killing you will help Jameson inherit the whole company,” I said, still clutching her hands.

“His grandfather and my great-grandfather started this company years ago. His grandfather only provided capital, so in the original contracts; they agreed to split the profits 60/40 with the majority going to the Corrigan family. Old man Jameson had other businesses, so a 40% interest more than satisfied him. Those businesses have since failed, leaving the Jamesons a little worse for wear, but certainly not destitute. My father brought William on as a partner but didn’t change the contracts. My great-grandfather, my grandfather, and Daddy put in all the work to build up this business, so my father didn’t think it necessary or prudent to change the contracts.”

“That still doesn’t explain how he can inherit the whole company,” I prompted.

“In those original contracts,” Nancy continued, “it stated that if the Corrigan line dies with no heir, either male or female, control of the company would shift to the Jameson line.”

“And you’re the last Corrigan?” I asked, already guessing the answer.

Nancy nodded.

“So, killing you means complete control of the company.”

“Which,” Nancy interrupted. “Would be worth $1.2 billion dollars according to last quarter’s numbers.”

“Fuck,” I whispered. “That is definitely reason enough to kill someone.”

Nancy’s eyes filled with tears, and I cursed myself for my stupidity.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said, pulling her closer. “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Nancy said, swiping at the tears in irritation. “It’s just hard being the only one left.”

I studied her for a moment, trying to think about how I would feel if I lost my whole family. Most likely, I’d feel about as lost and desperate as the woman in front of me.

“I don’t know how you’ve held together this long,” I whispered, running my hands up her arms.

She shook her head, choking back a shuddering sob. Sighing, I pulled her into my arms, stroking her long hair and holding her against my chest as sobs of grief and shock rolled out of her in waves.

Chapter Three: Nancy

Lance’s strong arms encircled me in warmth and security. It very well could have been the alcohol going to my head, but it felt nice, and I leaned into him. Lance’s fingers stroked my back, easing the choking sobs from my chest. I hadn’t cried since that night after my father’s funeral, preferring to spend my days in an irritable and rage-filled determination to find his killer. I hadn’t let myself break down.

After all, I could take more than most people. My father had drummed resilience into me since I was a child. He hadn’t softened with the death of my mother; crying was a weakness he hadn’t tolerated. There were times I thought he hated my tears for no other reason than he couldn’t fix them. Regardless the reason, he had trained me not to cry and not to show weakness. It was a testament to the stress and fear of the current situation that I was falling apart in a stranger’s embrace.

And a testament to the strength of the alcohol, I thought, sniffing hard.

Lance pulled back from me and studied my face. “I think I might know a way to not only protect you, but to flush Jameson out,” he murmured.

“What’s that?” I asked, swallowing a hiccup.

“Marry me,” Lance said simply.

I stared at him for three heartbeats before collapsing in a fit of laughter.

“It’s not that funny,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“I don’t even know you,” I gasped, trying to get a hold of myself.

“That’s why it will be a fake marriage,” he snapped, his eyes glittering dangerously.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed harder. Maybe I was losing my mind. High-stress situations did that to people, or at least that’s what I’d read.

“What the hell is so funny?” Lance asked, losing his temper.

That sobered me a little. “I really have no idea,” I whispered. “But… I can’t marry you, Lance.”

“Why not?” he asked, advancing on me slowly.

I backed away, trying to put distance between us so I could think through the fog of whiskey and fear. “You’ll burn my life to the ground.”

He chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated through my veins. “At least you’ll have a life because once Jameson learns of our marriage; he will know that you are not the last but have I as your next of Kin and it can buy us time to catch him in his evil act.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t deny it, then?”

He shook his head.

“That doesn’t exactly endear you to me, Lance,” I scoffed.

Quick as lightning, he had me against the wall, his hips grinding into mine. He grabbed my face in his hand and forced my eyes to his. “Maybe you need a little fire in your life, Nancy,” he whispered.

“How could you possibly know what I need?”

He shrugged.

“And what makes you think you could give me that fire, anyway?” I challenged.

His lips were on mine before I could blink. His mouth was bruising and punishing, demanding everything from me. He pried my mouth open, claiming it with his tongue, exploring every corner of me. I gasped into his mouth and pushed at his shoulders in a half-hearted attempt to stop him.

Lance answered by grabbing both of my hands and pinning them to the wall on either side of me. He nipped at my lips before trailing kisses down my jaw and neck, swirling his tongue in maddening circles at my collarbone. When the action pulled a moan from my mouth, he released my hands to trail one of his own across my breast and down to my hips. He buried his other hand in my hair, pulling softly, letting me know there was no escape.

I didn’t care. I didn’t want to escape. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I tangled my fingers in his hair as he gazed into my eyes, drawing me in and drowning me in their intensity. I whimpered at the passion his gaze promised. Smirking, he slipped a hand under my skirt and into my panties, thrusting a finger deep inside my already wet opening. He quirked one eyebrow at my obvious arousal.

“I’ll give you more fire than you can handle, Nancy,” he murmured, using his thumb to play with my little bud while thrusting his finger in and out of me.

I moaned, too lost in sensation to form words.

He trailed kisses along my jaw, nipping at my neck.

“I’ll take you higher than you’ve ever been,” he whispered in my ear. “I’ll save your life, and when all is said and done, you can tell me if it’s worth braving my flames. Either way, you’ll be alive. And that is my ultimate goal.”

He slipped his finger out of me and took a few steps back, leaving me quivering against the wall.

“I’ll sign a prenuptial agreement if that will make you feel better,” he continued, his voice even and measured.

I stared at him. He looked completely collected and sure of himself as if the last few minutes had never happened.

“Well?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I guess we’re getting married,” I whispered, collapsing into my desk chair.

He nodded, satisfied, and I resisted the urge to throw something at him.

Bastard, I thought. Two can play at this game, Lance Savage.

I plotted my revenge on Lance the rest of the day as Jackson went over what I had missed over the last three months. It seemed William had been busy with more than just murder and assassins. He had tried selling off a giant chunk of our properties and backing out of important government contracts that would help bring the company to the next level and create dozens of jobs.

“I don’t understand what his thought process was,” I snapped, throwing myself back into my chair.

Lance looked up from the newspaper he was reading and raised an eyebrow. I scowled in his general direction but refrained from engaging him.

“These contracts will cost us money in the short term,” Jackson answered patiently. “Over time, we will see a steady profit, but if we take on so many projects at once, we’ll see a dip in the numbers next quarter. The risk didn’t seem prudent to William.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t want to spend any more company money if he was hoping to gain access to all company funds in the near future.

“Tell the board we’re going ahead with the contracts and to stop any plans to close properties. There will be no closing, no liquidating, and no backing out of contracts. This company will run as smoothly as it always has. My father’s death changes nothing.”

Jackson nodded and turned to go.

“Oh, and Jackson.”

He turned an expectant look on his face.

“Schedule meetings with the government officials and anyone else that William may have compromised. I get the impression my first few weeks will be about damage control.”

Jackson nodded, looking pleased.

Sighing, I slumped down in my chair and gazed out the large glass window.

“You handled that remarkably well,” Lance commented from the corner.

“You sound surprised.”

He shrugged.

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m weak just because I cried in your arms earlier,” I hissed. “I am not weak, and nobody will destroy my father’s hard-won legacy.”

“I never thought you were weak,” Lance replied. “You were in shock. It’s a normal reaction to seeing someone commit suicide right in front of you after trying to kill you.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the window without answering.

“Time for lunch,” he said from right behind me.

The man had a way of walking like a shadow and it was becoming incredibly irritating. I stood and stretched, catching the appreciative glance Lance shot me. A wicked smile spread across my face as I realized I had a perfect opportunity at my fingertips. I walked by him, letting my hips sway seductively. He followed close behind me so that when I reached the door and turned abruptly, he ran into me with a curse.

“What the hell?” he growled, regaining his balance.

I trailed my fingers up his broad chest, shivering at the power and strength rippling under my fingers. Gazing up at him, I saw the moment his eyes darkened in desire.

“I realized something,” I whispered, licking my lips.

“What’s that?” he asked his voice hoarse.

“I never properly thanked you for saving my life earlier,” I murmured, moving my hands up his chest and over his shoulders. Burying my fingers in his hair, I pulled his face down closer to mine, breathing in his intoxicating scent. I trailed my lips up his neck, resting them over his ear. “Thank you, Lance,” I whispered.

Grasping the doorknob, I released him, jumping into the crowded hallway and rushing off to the elevators. I chuckled as I heard his curse behind me. After a few moments, he stomped after me into the hallway, looking murderous. I threw him an innocent look and even had the audacity to wink at him before stepping onto the elevator. He followed, giving me a dark look that promised retribution.

Chapter Four: Lance

She was trying to kill me. That was the only explanation I could think of. I took a moment to adjust myself below the belt before following Nancy out into the hall and onto the elevator.

Her actions were a clear challenge and a desperate bid for control. She had just thrown down the gauntlet of seduction, and she was sorely mistaken if she thought I wouldn’t pick it up with relish. Nancy Corrigan had no idea what she was getting herself into, but I looked forward to showing her. After I told my father about my plan.

I walked Nancy down to a small café and left her with three agents before walking off to make my phone call. My father picked up on the first ring, indicating how stressed he was about the whole situation.

“What’s the update?” he asked his voice tense.

I recounted the day’s events and the information Nancy had given me about her inheritance rights. I then told him my idea. He was silent for a few minutes.

“It seems risky, but it could work,” he finally said. “You should tell people you met before today. Possibly at her father’s funeral.”

“Sounds good,” I agreed.

“And Lance? Keep me posted. I don’t want to have to hear from my agents that someone attacked my son in an elevator. Understood?”

“Understood,” I said grimly.

I hung up the phone and went to sit across from Nancy at the little table where she absently swirled a spoon in a bowl of soup. Motioning for the other agents to leave, I watched her for a few minutes before talking.

“We should tell people we met at your father’s funeral three months ago,” I said quietly.

Nancy looked up, startled. “Were you there?”

I nodded. “Malcolm wanted to go as a show of support, and he asked me to join him.”

I left out the part about Malcolm wanting me to go because I was his son. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t tell her. Maybe I wanted her to like me for who I was and not for my family name. It had complicated many relationships in my past, which was why I had been so adamant about changing my name before working within the company. I didn’t want the other agents to know who I was, either. A few did, but most just figured I was a new hire, ex-Special Forces. Most didn’t bother asking questions. They took their orders and moved on.

“I don’t remember seeing you there,” Nancy said, frowning.

“It was a hard day for you,” I replied with a small smile. “I think I can forgive the lack of recognition this once.”

She rolled her eyes and bent over her soup. She scooped the hot liquid onto her spoon, blew on it, and then spooned it into her mouth. I watched, transfixed, remembering that day three months ago when I first saw her.

She had looked beautiful, even in the depths of despair. Her brave façade had touched me in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was that echoing memory of courage and fear that had pushed me to accept this job.

If I was being completely honest with myself, it was that memory of her standing alone and steady at her father’s grave that had pushed me to propose a fake marriage to her. But I wasn’t being honest with myself. Examining my deeper feelings had only ever gotten me into trouble, so I studiously ignored them. I chose to live in the here and now, burying any strong feeling deep inside me with the hope it would never surface. It seemed to be working so far.

“So, we’ve known each other for three months?” Nancy confirmed, pushing her empty bowl to the centre of the table.

“It will make things more believable,” I answered, squinting at the menu over the service counter.

“Your little friends already bought you this,” Nancy said, pushing a sandwich my way.

I raised an eyebrow at the “little friends” comment, but said nothing.

“If we met at my father’s funeral,” Nancy continued between bites of her own sandwich, “wouldn’t that make me look a little, I don’t know, cold toward my father’s memory?”

I suppressed a chuckle behind my sandwich. “So the story is that we fell into bed together that very night?” I asked, grinning.

She threw a sugar packet at me. It hit me in the nose. Glaring at her, I threw it back, missing her by a few inches.

“I’m just trying to get my story straight.”

“How about we tell people we struck up a friendship that night, and I came by to check on you the next day? The romance came gradually,” I answered, smirking.

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “You think people will buy that we were friends?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” I asked defensive.

Nancy snickered but refused to answer me.

I threw another sugar packet at her, missing again.

After lunch, I escorted Nancy back up to her office without incident. She finished several more meetings with board members and then made a marathon of phone calls trying to fix the damage that Jameson had done.

The way she handled herself in what was, arguably, a man’s world mildly impressed me. She had a tenacity and strength that forced people to stop and take notice of her. I had certainly taken notice of her. She had captivated me from that cold rainy day when she buried her father, and she still captivated me now as she went head to head with some of the biggest names in the business world, refusing to back down because of her gender or age. I had no doubt that the world would know her name in just a few short years. She would carve out an identity for herself, an identity of her own making, rather than one backed by her family name.

I envied her that. I had never successfully broken away from the Shieldman name; not until I had changed my last name to Savage had anyone given merit to my own accomplishments rather than those of my forefathers. Nancy had no such problems. She forced people to respect her and not her name.

The sun had already sunk below the horizon when someone knocked sharply on Nancy’s office door. Nancy was on the phone but jumped at the sound, turning to me with wide, panic-filled eyes. Rising from my chair, I made it halfway to the door before it opened and a familiar woman walked through.

“Lance, darling, how are you?” she asked, kissing my cheek.

Nancy frowned.

“I’m Elizabeth, Malcolm’s wife and business partner,” she called softly to Nancy who nodded and continued talking on the phone.

I pulled my mother to the other side of the room as casually as possible. “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

“Oh, calm down, Lance,” she whispered. “I’m not here to blow your cover, although how you’re going to get married to the girl without telling her who you really are is beyond me.”

I glared at her.

“If you thought I would miss my only son’s wedding, you are crazy,” she said, rolling her eyes at my expression.

“It’s fake.”

My mother pursed her lips and looked me up and down. “If you say so.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, exasperated.

She shrugged and beamed at something over my shoulder. Whirling around, I came face to face with Nancy.

“Everything okay?” Nancy asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” my mother and I said in unison.

Nancy raised an eyebrow.

“Malcolm wanted me to help with your… wedding,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “He thought I could help make it look legitimate. He also wants me to gather whatever information I can about the whole situation. I’m adept sifting through the rumour mill.”

I snorted, but both women ignored me.

“What do you mean make it look legitimate? I figured we would just go down to the courthouse and sign the papers.”

My mother looked scandalized. “Nobody will believe that! In order for this little charade to work, people need to believe you’re married, correct? It doesn’t have to be a big ceremony, but you need to have one.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Nancy mumbled.

“Of course it does,” Elizabeth said, taking Nancy’s arm and leading her toward the door.

I followed behind them.

“First things first,” my mother continued. “We need to get you a dress. I’ll pick you up first thing in the morning. Say… eight o’clock? I know a few boutiques you’ll just love.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary—”

“Don’t be silly,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Like I said, this wedding needs to look real.”

She leaned over and gave Nancy a kiss on the cheek. “See you in the morning, dear.”

Winking at me, she blew a kiss and then swept out into the hallway. Nancy and I stood in the doorway for a moment, looking anywhere but at each other.

“Ready to go?” I asked, breaking the tense silence.

“Yes,” Nancy mumbled.

I led her to the elevator, wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into.

Chapter Five: Nancy

Silence echoed through the car on the ride home. Lance stared out the window, lost in thought, while I tried not to stare at him. This day had turned out to be a really strange one. I had almost forgotten about the stupid wedding idea while I had tried to undo the damage that William had done to the company during his three months in charge. I hadn’t forgotten about Lance, however. How could I? His brooding presence in my office had been magnetic and distracting.

I tapped my pen nervously on the stack of papers I had brought with me and glanced over at Lance again. Except for the odd flash of light from oncoming traffic headlights that illuminated his face, he was cloaked in shadow. The darkness only increased his magnetism—which I had thought impossible.

I tapped the pen faster, bouncing my heel to its distinct rhythm. Was he going to stay with me? What if Jameson was waiting for us at my house? Images of Jameson lying in wait flashed through my head. The flashes had a crime drama flair to them I would have found amusing in any other circumstances. That I found them even mildly funny right now only confirmed my suspicions: I was losing my mind.

Lance reached over and placed his large hand over mine in a firm grip. I glanced down at our hands then back up at his face.

“There are more pleasurable ways of making a car rock,” he growled, looking pointedly at my feet and hands.

I blushed and slipped my hand out from under his. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Nervous habit.”

“I make you nervous?” He smirked.

“Oh yes,” I snapped, rolling my eyes. “My nerves have nothing to do with someone trying to kill me. Nope. It’s you and your caveman tactics that have me all atwitter.”

He snickered. He actually snickered.

“Who says atwitter?” he chuckled.

“Bite me,” I huffed.

He snatched my hand back into his and pulled me closer to him, making me squeak in surprise. His dark eyes bored into mine and his breath seared my skin. “I’ll do more than bite you, Nancy Corrigan. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your little challenge earlier. Now, let me make one thing clear. Someone may be trying to kill you, but they will not succeed. Not while I still draw breath. I’ve never failed a mission and I don’t plan on losing to a pampered bastard like William Jameson.”

“Losing?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “This isn’t a game, Lance. It’s my life.”

He lifted his other hand, trailing his knuckles across my cheek. His thumb traced my bottom lip, making me shiver as all the blood rushed to my core. His words of protection had excited me until he had mentioned his intent to win against William. That admission had felt like a slap to the face. I needed to remember that this wedding was a farce, the marriage was a farce, and as soon as they caught and convicted William, Lance would disappear from my life.

Still, the traitorous part of my brain whispered. There’s no harm in having fun.

This, of course, was not an accurate statement. Lance was what most people would call a heartbreaker, and my heart was in danger of being snatched up by him—snatched up and torn to little bits and then promptly stomped on. I needed to keep my distance and keep my head.

“Life is a game, Nancy,” Lance whispered in my ear. “And I plan to keep you around long enough to play a few good hands with you.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” I hissed, pushing against his hard chest, ignoring the muscles that rippled under my hand. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

He laughed, low and seductive, before slipping his hand into my hair, grabbing a handful and pulling me toward him. His lips met mine with punishing force, chasing all coherent thoughts from my brain. When I sucked in a quick breath, he used the opportunity to slip his tongue between my lips and massage my tongue with his. I clutched the front of his shirt in my fists in a desperate attempt at anchoring myself. Wetness and heat pooled in between my legs as he trailed fiery kisses down my neck. My breath came in short pants with a low moan mixed in every few exhales.

My passion-induced brain had enough awareness to demand I take a little control back. Throwing my papers to the floor, I slipped onto his lap, grateful for the partition separating us from poor Jim. With a snarl, Lance ripped my silk shirt open, buttons flying in every direction.

I raised an eyebrow, my mouth quirking up on one side.

“You were the one who called me a caveman,” he murmured, shrugging as he traced the line of my cleavage with a perfectly trimmed fingernail.

I closed my eyes as a small whimper escaped my lips. His deft fingers reached around to unclip my bra, and my whimper turned into a moan as his mouth clamped down on one nipple. He flicked his tongue over the hard little bud, making me gasp, and pinched the other nipple in between his thumb and forefinger. I felt his cock twitch against me, reminding me I had my own battle to wage.

I grabbed his hair and ground down on his lap, rubbing against his throbbing shaft. The friction caused tingling bolts of fire to shoot through my body. Lance switched his mouth to the nipple in between his fingers, his hips grinding in time with mine while his hand tugged on my other damp nipple. I could feel something building within me, urging me to grind harder and faster on his lap. We both panted as the pressure and heat built.

The car came to a screeching halt, throwing us against the partition. Muttering curses, Lance pushed me off his lap. I snatched up my shirt and bra, scrambling to put them back on. I managed my bra, but Lance had completely ruined my shirt. Glaring at him, I tucked it into my skirt, crossing the ends in a way that covered most of my chest. Lance wasn’t paying any attention, however. He was busy trying to figure out how to roll the partition down. Rolling my eyes, I slammed my palm down on the right button and tried to look innocent as Jim turned around to look at us.

“What’s going on?” Lance barked. “Why have we stopped?”

“The road’s blocked,” Jim answered, frowning as he took in my flushed face and messy clothes. “There was an accident. It was just a fender bender, but we might be stuck here for a minute or two.”

Lance frowned. He bent down and took a small gun out of a holster strapped to his ankle. I stared at him, my hair standing on end as he handed me the small gun.

“Do you know how to shoot?” he asked.

“Kind of,” I squeaked.

“Shoot first and ask questions later.” His voice had a slight edge to it.

“Wait, what?” I asked, but he ignored me. He took the gun at his hip out of its holster and flicked the safety off.

“Stay here,” he commanded, sliding out of the car and slamming the door behind him.

I looked at Jim, but he just glanced around nervously. My heart pounded in my chest as we waited for Lance to come back. I prayed it was just an accident and nothing more that had made us stop. This roller coaster ride of emotions was driving me insane.

After a few more minutes of tense silence, I gingerly opened the car door and poked my head out, gazing down the street and into the dark alley beside us.

Chapter Six:  Lance

Peering into the darkness, I tried to get a look at the person who had jumped from the wrecked car and taken off down the nearby alley. I could sense a human presence but couldn’t see anyone. I crept forward, my gun raised and ready to shoot. A crash behind me caused me to whip around. Nancy stood at there, gripping the gun I had handed her.

“I thought I told you to wait in the car,” I hissed as she walked closer.

“Last I checked, I didn’t take orders from you,” she snapped back.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I had never known someone so reckless with her own life. She didn’t answer me but peered down the alleyway around my shoulder. I pushed her back toward the entrance. “Go back and wait in the car where it’s safe.”

“I don’t know who you think you are—” she hissed, but I stopped her from talking with a hand over her mouth.

Two dark bodies had blocked the way out of the alley. Nancy’s eyes widened, and she gasped into my hand as she stared behind me. I turned to find the person I had been looking for stepping out of the shadows, leaving us surrounded in the dark alley.

“Fuck,” I breathed, grabbing Nancy and pushing her into a nearby doorway.

Using my gun would only put Nancy in more danger. It was too small a space, and I couldn’t see well enough in the darkness. It was better for me to disarm our attackers than to shoot at them. I holstered my gun in a fluid motion, rocking into a fighting stance without a second thought.

Years of muscle memory made it easy to disarm the first two attackers before they even realized what I was doing. Their guns clattered into the dark alley. I used the darkness to my advantage as I lashed out at the three men and melted back into the shadows in quick succession. The poorly trained men had a hard time getting a read on where I was. It was only my twelve years of intensive martial arts training that allowed me to focus on what I heard, abandoning the sense of sight all together.

Circling around the three attackers, I lashed a hand out at the only one left armed, catching his wrist and causing his gun to skid across the ground. The most recently disarmed man punched out at the place I had been standing, but I had already moved around him. Reaching around his neck, I put him in a chokehold. The other two rushed me, but I held them off long enough for the man under my arm to black out. One attacker grabbed me from behind. I twisted arm and drove my knee up into his stomach. When he doubled over, I slammed that knee into his face, breaking his nose.

The last attacker eyed me warily, then turned tail and ran. I took off after him, Nancy at my heels when a loud crack stopped us both in our tracks. The attacker must have picked up the gun on the way out of the alleyway, but who had he shot? We were both standing here.

“Jim,” Nancy breathed, making my stomach drop.

Nancy ran toward the car with me close behind her. She skidded to a halt when she came upon a body lying face down on the pavement. A crowd of people was gathering at the fringes, and I knew we had only minutes before the police arrived.

“Oh, Jim,” Nancy whispered, rolling the old man over gently.

He was already dead, blood soaking the front of his shirt. He must have seen the men, heard the scuffle, and come to help us. To help Nancy.

“Oh, god. No,” Nancy sobbed, leaning over Jim’s body, clutching his jacket in her fists.

I placed my hand on her head in what I hoped was a comforting gesture, knowing there were no words I could say to make this better. Snatching my cell phone out of the backseat of the car, I called my father and gave him a brief status report. He assured me he would send a clean-up crew and told me to wait to give the police our statement, then leave as soon as possible.

There was no time to waste. We would wed in secret and then fly off on a honeymoon the next morning. My mother would meet us at the nearest chapel in two hours. Thankfully, we were in Las Vegas, and the nearest chapel wasn’t far away. We could walk there.

It didn’t take the police long to show up. The detectives that arrived were the same ones handling the murder of Nancy’s father. We told them what happened and declined police protection. I couldn’t be sure that Jameson didn’t have people under his thumb in law enforcement.

After we gave the police our statement, I grabbed Nancy’s purse and my bag from the back of the car. Slipping back into the shadows, I pulled Nancy back down the street, away from Jim’s body and the police. She was shaking, but had stopped crying and didn’t put up any resistance. No doubt she was in shock. It was only a matter of time before that wore off. I wanted to be safely married before that happened.

“Where are we going?” Nancy whispered from beside me.

“To get married.”

“What?” Nancy asked, jerking her hand out of mine.

I snatched it back up and continued pulling her down the street. “There isn’t any more time. If we want this plan to work, we need to do it right now. Then, tomorrow, we’re getting on a plane and flying far away from here on our honeymoon. Hopefully, our marriage will either anger Jameson enough to act out so we can get him or he’ll retreat to rethink his plans and Malcolm will have time to gather evidence against him. Either way, you’re safer out of Vegas—and out of the country.”

“How will we catch Jameson if we’re out of the country?” Nancy asked stubbornly.

“Malcolm will handle that. That is not my job. My job is to protect you, and the best way to protect you is to get you out of the line of fire. You will marry me tonight and you will go with me on our honeymoon tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Nancy snapped. “How could I say no to that?” she grumbled under her breath before descending into silence again.

I felt a little like a bully. The poor woman had lost her father only three months ago and had just seen someone obviously very close to her shot and killed. But at least she was alive. And if I had to act like a bully to keep her that way, I would. I pulled her down another street before glancing at my phone. My mother had sent coordinates to the wedding chapel, and the GPS told me it wasn’t much farther. Maybe another mile. We made good time, bursting through the chapel doors less than a half hour later.

My mother was waiting in the lobby for us, talking fast with what looked to be the minister. The chapel she’d chosen wasn’t gaudy like so many others in Vegas, but was instead plain but tasteful. It looked, inside and out, like a small cottage in the woods. Tranquil pictures of mountain scenes and rivers adorned the walls; just what the two of us needed after the last few hours. I doubted this was the closest chapel to the crime scene, but it was probably the closest one that matched my mother’s sensibilities.

My mother rushed over and tossed a garment bag at me. “Change into that.”

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Satisfied I would obey, she took Nancy’s arm in a gentle grip. “Nancy, I found a dress I think will fit you. Why don’t you come with me to change?”

I looked up, surprised. It was one thing to find a tux for your son last minute, but to find a wedding gown for a woman you just met? My mother sure knew how to pull off miracles.

Sensing my gaze, my mother looked back at me and gestured at a small bouquet. I got the hint that I should give them to Nancy later. Nodding, I watched them leave before heading to my own dressing room. For some reason, I still felt like a bully, and the thought irked me. I was only trying to protect Nancy.

Of one thing I was certain: the next time I saw William Jameson, it would take every ounce of self-control I possessed not to wring his neck with my bare hands.

Chapter Seven: Nancy

Elizabeth led me into a side room decorated in soft pink and ivory. She pushed me into an overstuffed armchair before laying the garment bag in her arms down on a small couch. Pulling another chair in front of the one I was sitting in, she rummaged around in a small duffel bag at my feet. Makeup, brushes, and a curling iron came out of the bag in quick succession.

“You came prepared,” I remarked wryly.

She made a sound at the back of her throat that sounded like a tsk. “I hardly had any time at all. Malcolm called me and told me what happened. The makeup is mine, but we have similar coloring, so it should work just fine for you.”

“And the dress?”

“Well, the dress is also mine. When I heard you and Lance were getting married so soon, I thought I’d bring it since I hadn’t had the chance to find one.”

“How do you know it will fit me? And are you sure you want me to wear your wedding dress to this sham of a wedding?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I have an eye for sizes. I can guess them pretty well from a glance. You’re a little smaller than me, but this dress is from before I had children, so I estimate you’re close to the size I was back then.”

“You didn’t answer my other question.”

“I don’t put much stock in possessions, dear. A dress is a dress. My dress doesn’t define my marriage. We needed one in a pinch, so I brought mine. It’s as simple as that.”

I narrowed my eyes. Something didn’t add up. If Elizabeth didn’t put stock in possessions, as she put it, then why would she keep her dress all this time? Why not just give it away?

Unfortunately, I had little time to dwell on the mystery of the wedding dress before Elizabeth’s deft hands were washing, prepping, and primping my face. After she applied my makeup to her satisfaction, she combed her fingers through my long mane of hair.

“Your hair is so beautiful,” she murmured. “It would be a shame to hide it.”

She curled it into elegant ringlets and then clipped a small portion up, keeping it out of my face but letting it cascade down my back in a shower of curls and waves. I had to admit that the result was breath-taking. The process had also taken quite a while which I knew had to be making Lance antsy, a realization that brought a smirk to my face. As if he had sensed my amusement, Lance sent in an agent to ask Elizabeth how much longer we would be.

“It will take however long it will take,” she snapped, glaring at the agent.

He flushed and, nodding, left the room.

My smirk turned into a full-blown wicked grin at the thought of making Lance wait a little longer, but it quickly faded as I watched Elizabeth pull lacy, white underclothes from her duffel.

“Please tell me those aren’t from your wedding, too,” I said, my voice tinged with a panic that had nothing to do with where the lingerie came from and everything to do with what it was for.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elizabeth laughed. “We’re in Vegas. I got these in a hotel gift shop.”

“Well, I really don’t think they’ll be necessary,” I squeaked.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Your underwear is black,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And black will definitely show through a white wedding gown. Also, let’s be honest with each other for a second. I’ve seen the way Lance looks at you and I’ve seen the way you look at him. The other agents have also seen, ahem, incidents they had no issue passing along to me when I got here. Add all of that up with the fact that Lance could charm the pants off anyone, and we have ourselves a near guarantee that your honeymoon will be much less of a so-called sham than your wedding.”

I blushed furiously. Elizabeth smirked and handed me the lacy undergarments, pushing me behind a folding screen. I reluctantly shed my black panties and bra, deciding I would never wear any color but nude again. I picked up the lacy bundle of white and unfolded it.

Oh, for goodness’ sake, I thought, drawing in a deep breath. The woman bought me a fucking corset. Found it in a gift shop, my ass!

Sighing in irritation, I unfolded the panties. They were soft white cotton edged in lace. The cut was not quite a thong but also not quite full coverage. Okay, I thought. These aren’t so bad.

I slipped them on and then glared down at the corset. After I pulled it over my head, careful to avoid my curls, I poked my head out from behind the folding screen.

“I’m going to need help with these laces,” I snapped. “I’m not a contortionist.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and beckoned me forward. She laced the corset with dexterity and efficiency that belied her knowledge of such things. I sniffed with indignation while twirling one of my long curls nervously.

“Oh stop it,” Elizabeth chuckled. “You look amazing. And it is your wedding. Who cares if it’s real or not? Enjoy yourself a little.”

She walked over to a small counter and poured clear liquor from a bottle into two glasses. Walking back over, she handed me a glass, and then, raising hers in my general direction, she took a sip.

“So, did Lance ever charm the pants off you?” I asked, sniffing my glass before taking a small sip.

Elizabeth choked on her drink. Alarmed, I patted her firmly on the back. I couldn’t tell if her shock at my question was a good thing or a bad thing. But before she could answer me, the door banged open and Lance stomped into the room.

His glare fell first on Elizabeth before turning to me, which was when he stopped dead in the middle of the room. His eyes burned as they travelled from my toes all the way up in a slow heated examination of my body.

Flushing, I tossed my hair behind my shoulder and placed my free hand on my hip. “Don’t you knock?”

His dark eyes met mine. Something primal and savage lurked just beneath the surface of his gaze, and I found myself longing to draw it out.

He blinked, hiding the fire within him behind emotionless eyes.

“The minister’s waiting. In fact, we’ve all been waiting for two hours,” he said, clearing his throat and turning his gaze to Elizabeth. “How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

“Just a few more minutes,” Elizabeth said, a knowing smile spreading across her face.

Lance nodded, then turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

“To answer your earlier question, my dear,” Elizabeth said, unzipping the garment bag and helping me step into a cloud of white. “I am married to Malcolm and have been the entire time I have known Lance. And, if the last ten seconds are any indication, I think your pants will be the last Lance ever charms off.”

I gave her a doubtful look. Yeah, right, I thought, grimacing. This is a fake wedding. Lance doesn’t care about me. He’s only doing his job. Just because he likes my body, it doesn’t mean he likes me.

It was something I would do well to remember in the coming days. The wounds from my father’s death were still raw, and I was loath to court any more heartache. Lance would just have to stay at a distance.

I turned and glanced into the full-length mirror. I hardly recognized myself. Elizabeth had been right about the fit of the gown. White chiffon cascaded down from just under my bust until it pooled on the floor at my feet. The dress had a sweetheart neckline edged in lace with two lace strips resting over my shoulders and lace appliques and beadwork decorating the bodice. The corset I was wearing underneath did a nice job lifting my breasts, and the sweetheart neckline emphasized my cleavage. Turning slightly, I studied the back of the dress in the mirror. I pulled my hair forward, admiring the peekaboo cut that showed off my back and shoulders. The lacework continued around the back, covering the top of my shoulders and neck, but leaving my back exposed from the bottom of my shoulder blades to my waist. Ribbons crisscrossed there in a corset-like design that added more lift to my breasts when Elizabeth tightened them. Lace and chiffon tumbled down from my hips, ending in a small beaded train.

Elizabeth turned me to face her. Reaching her arms above my head, she secured a small lace-trimmed veil into the curls she had clipped there. Sighing, she took a few steps back to admire her handiwork.

“You look beautiful,” she breathed. “And I think it’s time to get you married.”

I nodded, downing my second full glass of whatever alcohol Elizabeth had handed me. Elizabeth patted my hand before leaving the room. I gazed around the room, and then, after knocking back the rest of Elizabeth’s abandoned drink, I strode out of the room to meet my groom. Fake or not, I would tackle this wedding like I did everything else in my life: with quiet dignity, unfailing courage, and all the grace I could muster. I reached the door and stumbled a little in the stiletto heels I wore.

So much for grace, I thought, the alcohol warming my blood.

Courage and dignity would do just fine… or maybe just courage. After all, I was marrying a complete stranger because a greedy bastard had killed my father and was trying to kill me. I was also 99% sure I was intoxicated. Dignity and grace had left the building hours ago. Courage was all I had left, and even that had begun to fade.

Chapter Eight: Lance

Standing next to the minister, I fidgeted as I waited for my blushing bride to make her first appearance. During the hours my interfering mother had sequestered Nancy away, I had planned and purchased a honeymoon for us to leave on tomorrow morning. We would travel to Cairns, Australia, the available destination the furthest distance from us. Nancy would probably fight me on it, but it was too late to change things now.

A slight commotion at the door caused me to turn around. My mother bustled toward me, and as she moved out of the way to stand next to me, I got a full view of Nancy as she strode down the aisle. Her strawberry blonde hair curled over her shoulders and flowed down her back. She wore what looked suspiciously like the dress I had seen in all my parent’s wedding photos, her large breasts straining at the neckline while she floated along on a cloud of flowing white fabric.

It was hard not to picture her as I saw her earlier, standing half naked in a lace corset and panties, her hand on her hip and her eyes flashing. I had wanted nothing more than to throw her over my shoulder, find the nearest bed and pound into her all night long. Thankfully, my mother’s presence in the room had stopped me from doing just that.

When she stood opposite me in all her shimmering beauty, Nancy clasped my arm and flicked a nervous look up at me through her lashes.

“Are you sure about this?” she whispered.

I rolled my eyes, not deigning to answer. Nodding to the minister, I pulled her closer, squeezing her around the waist, noticing the smell of alcohol wafting from her. She stiffened in my arms but accepted the embrace. There were a half dozen other agents standing witness, along with my mother who held her phone in her hand, recording the event. I narrowed my eyes at her. I would need to speak with her about exactly what this marriage was. She was treating the whole scenario as if it was a real marriage and I couldn’t have that.

Focusing on the minister’s words, I pushed my mother’s antics to the back of my mind. Before beginning the ceremony, the minister handed each of us a copy of the wedding license and a prenuptial agreement that Malcolm had sent over, protecting Nancy’s money—and my own. I signed both the license and the agreement, handing the pen to Nancy when I was through.

She signed the license and then scanned the prenup before signing it, too. She had barely looked at it, which was both good and bad. Good because she hadn’t seen the part about my enormous fortune, but bad because she was so trusting. She was too smart for something like that, so it must have been the shock of the day’s events—and the alcohol—causing her to be so careless.

The minister scooped up the paperwork, handing it to my mother, and then turned to Nancy and me. After a short speech from him about the sanctity of marriage and the sacredness of two people joining their minds and hearts as one, Nancy and I exchanged generic vows.

“Do you have rings?” the minister asked.

“Uh…” I resisted the urge to swear in front of the churchman in front of us. I had forgotten about rings. Shit. I could have easily run out to grab a couple in the two hours it had taken Nancy to get ready. 

“I have the rings,” my mother squeaked from her position to my right.

Throwing her a look, I walked over to her. She was rummaging around in her pockets, giving me a clear view of her phone. She wasn’t recording the ceremony. My father’s face grinned up at me from the screen on her phone. I rolled my eyes in response. With a little cry of triumph, my mother handed me two rings. The larger was a black cobalt band with no decoration. The smaller ring was very familiar to me. It had been my grandmother’s wedding ring and had always been intended for my future wife. I scowled at my mother. Her wedding dress and grandma’s ring? I really needed to talk to her. Choosing not to make a scene, I took the rings, giving the larger one to Nancy to place on my finger while I placed my grandmother’s ring on hers. 

With the exchange of the rings, the ceremony was over. Beaming, the minister bade me kiss my bride, which I did as chastely as I could manage after seeing her in her sexy lingerie no more than an hour ago. Her lips tasted so sweet, I could barely contain a groan of frustration. It came out as a growl at the back of my throat that only Nancy could hear. Her eyes widened, but she remained silent.

The other agents and my mother cheered, throwing handfuls of rice at us. Most of them aimed for my face, and I glared at them.

“Oh, lighten up,” a blond agent named Kevin yelled, thumping me on the back. He was one of the few people here who not only knew my identity but also knew that the wedding was fake. We had been friends since we were kids, so it wouldn’t have been easy to hide the truth from him.

“Don’t make me punch you, Kevin,” I growled.

He laughed and followed us out to a waiting car. My mother kissed Nancy on the cheek and squeezed my arm while Kevin hopped into the limo first to check that everything was safe. He would ride as far as the hotel with us, but after that, we were on our own.

I helped Nancy into the limo, glared one last time at all the other agents, and then slipped inside the limo behind my bride.

We rode in silence part of the way, all three of us looking out the window closest to us.

“Where did you grow up, Lance?” Nancy asked after a little while. Her voice sounded tired, and I glanced at her in concern.

“New York,” I answered truthfully.

She inhaled sharply. “Oh, my god.”

“What?” I asked, looking around wildly.

“Your parents,” she squeaked.

“What about them?”

“Well, what if they find out about us marrying? Shouldn’t you call them? We don’t know how long this whole thing will take and how public it will get.”

I glanced at Kevin who was still staring out the window, trying not to laugh.

“My parents are dead,” I answered, wincing inwardly at the lie. “I think of Malcolm and Elizabeth as my parents.”

Kevin snorted but said nothing.

“Oh,” Nancy said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

Guiltily, I looked away. I had forgotten for a moment that both of her parents were dead. When she found out I’d lied, she would not be happy about that one.

“When did they die?” she asked.

I shifted uncomfortably. “A long time ago.”

“So then who raised you?” she asked.

I glanced at Kevin and inspiration struck I gave him an apologetic smile then turned back to Nancy.

“I grew up in foster homes until I was fourteen. That was when Malcolm took me in. He trained me so I could go to college and work for the security company. I’ve since earned a modest place in the world.”

Kevin threw me an amused look and rolled his eyes, not missing that I had used his backstory as my own.

Nancy seemed to accept the story and nodded her head.

“Why don’t you try to rest?” I suggested before she could ask any more questions. “We’ll be at the hotel soon.”

She nodded and rested her head against the window, closing her eyes. Thirty minutes later, we pulled up in front of the hotel that Malcolm had paid for. I helped Nancy out of the car, turning to Kevin before heading inside. Kevin had unloaded my duffel bag of clothes and a suitcase of Nancy’s from the limo’s trunk. Nancy gave her suitcase a questioning glance.

“We had a few agents go by your house to get a few things,” Keven explained. “Your maid, Elsa, helped them pack.” He hesitated, glancing at me. “Elsa also asked that you call her and tell her what’s going on. She seemed worried.”

Nancy nodded, taking her suitcase from Kevin and rolling it toward the entrance where she stopped and waited for me.

“Keep me apprised of what’s going on here,” I told Kevin quietly. “And sorry about using your past as my own.”

Kevin shrugged. “Seeing how you look at her, Lance, I can tell you that the truth will eventually come out. I don’t know why you insist she not know. Once you’re safely away from here, you should tell her the truth.”

I didn’t answer. He was probably right, but I wasn’t ready to admit that. Scooping up my duffel from the ground, I clapped him on the shoulder.

“I want regular updates,” I said, squeezing his shoulder.

He nodded, and I turned to meet Nancy at the door to the hotel. Throwing her a look of exasperation, I pulled her suitcase from her hands and beckoned her to walk ahead of me into the hotel. Rolling her eyes, she obeyed, stalking off toward the front desk. It took no time at all to check-in with the clerk who had set aside one of their best suites for “the two honeymooners,” as she called us. I took the keys from her, managing a small smile, and then followed Nancy to the elevators.

A few minutes later, we were in a suite decorated in ivory and gold. It housed a king-sized bed and opened onto a patio with a small wrought-iron table. Malcolm had chosen this hotel—and this room—because it wouldn’t be accessible to any snipers in the area. I thought about telling Nancy this to set her mind at ease, but I decided against it. I would probably be better off trying to distract her from the current situation than reminding her of it.

“It looks like there’s a bathroom in there if you want to change,” I said, clearing my throat and pointing.

Nancy jumped at the sound of my voice, then looked over at the door to the bathroom. “I’m a little thirsty,” she croaked, walking over to the minibar.

In her nervous state, she knocked over a glass and then fumbled to put everything back in order. I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, using the solidity of my body to comfort her.

“What’s wrong, Nancy?” I whispered in her ear, trailing my lips along its edge.

“I don’t know,” Nancy answered shakily. She turned in my arms, splaying a warm hand over my chest. “Everything, I guess. I’m trying to wrap my head around everything that’s happened today. I’m married, but I’m not. Someone is trying to kill me. Jim is dead.” Her voice caught on the last sentence and she closed her eyes.

I stroked her cheek with my thumb. “I’m sorry,” I murmured for lack of anything better to say.

She nodded, then opened her eyes, leaned up, and kissed me gently on the lips. Stiffening in her embrace, I struggled with the desire that reared up in me.

“Please, Lance,” she begged. “Help me forget.”

“Nancy…” I warned.

“Please,” she whispered, cutting me off.

With a groan of both desire and frustration, I spun her around, pulling at the laces of her gown. Slipping it over her shoulders, I let it fall to the floor around her feet. She stepped out of it and then turned to face me. My breath caught in my throat as my cock strained against my pants.

She wore the same lacy white corset from earlier that pushed her breasts up and hugged her hips. She had on thigh-high stockings held up by lacy garters. Stepping back, she reached up and removed her veil and the pins holding her hair, letting her hair cascade down her back. She shook out her hair, running her fingers through the curls, and then kicked off her stilettos before slinking back toward me.

When she was just a few inches in front of me, she slid a hand up my stomach and chest, grabbing my tie and removing it with slow, measured movements. My shirt came next. She unbuttoned every button without ever taking her eyes from my face. Then, it was my belt. I kicked out of my shoes, removed my socks, and then stepped out of my pants. Impatient with her slow movements, I pulled my shirt over my head but left my underwear on.

It was her turn now.

I trailed a finger over the top of her breasts, gazing at her intently.

Her eyes flashed with desire and heat. “Lance,” she panted.

“Hmm,” I answered absently, trailing kisses over her breasts.

“Lance, I need to tell you something,” she gasped, her hands clutching at my hair.

“I’m listening,” I murmured against her skin.

“I’ve never… I mean… this is my first time… you know,” she stammered.

Jerking back, I gaped up at her in shock. “You’re a virgin?”

She immediately gained a little of her usual sass back. “Yes,” she snapped defensively. “Is that a problem?”

I stared at her, straightening up and cupping her chin in my hands.

Like fucking hell was it a problem, I thought, my cock twitching with the knowledge that I would be the first person to claim her.

“Not at all,” I answered her, claiming her mouth in a bruising kiss.

Possessive need seared through me, increasing the savage desire that was already there. I struggled to remind myself to go easy since it was her first time, but her hands were everywhere; stroking, caressing, clawing.

I thrust my tongue into her mouth, reaching around her to pull at the laces of the corset. When I finally got them all untied, I stood back a little to let the garment fall past her hips to the floor. My feverish gaze landed on her pert nipples and, bending over, I took one into my mouth. Nancy cried out, grabbing at my hair again and throwing her head back. That movement pushed more of her breast into my mouth and I flicked my tongue over the little bud, making her cry out again and stagger against me.

Sweeping one arm around her waist, I lifted her into my arms, releasing her nipple so I could claim her mouth again. I carried her over to the bed, dropping her onto the soft covers and admiring the way her curls spread over the duvet. I reached down and unclasped the garter, pulling it off. Then, I trailed my fingers up one leg from ankle to thigh, rolling the white stocking down her leg before moving to the other. I kept my eyes on hers the whole time, watching as her breathing became ragged and her skin flushed with desire.

By the time I pulled her panties off, leaving her naked on the bed, she was panting, and I took a few moments to drink her in before kneeling down and trailing kisses up her legs. She quivered on her elbows, watching me as I paused at her upper thigh for two beats and then licked her warm, wet folds in one smooth, slow motion. Her eyes rolled closed as a low moan escaped her and she fell back against the bed, clutching the sheets in her hands.

Smirking against her, I continued to lick and nip at her folds and her clit, making her squirm against the sheets. When she began sobbing my name, I thrust my tongue deep inside her, using my thumb to pleasure her little bud with small circles. It wasn’t long before she caught onto the rhythm, moving her hips in time to my thrusts.

I slipped my tongue from her, replacing it with two of my fingers, getting her ready to take my shaft in a few moments. She twisted and squirmed against my hand before her muscles clamped down on my fingers and her whole body shuddered its release. I kissed my way back up her body, shucking off my underwear as I did so. She watched me with hooded eyes, not nearly sated enough for my taste.

“My turn,” she whispered, placing a hand on my chest and pushing me back.

Confusion turned to raw desire as she slipped off the bed and knelt at my feet, grasping my erection in her warm hand. Gazing up at me, she licked my cock from base to tip. Shivering, I buried my hands in her hair and guided her mouth toward me, pushing in slowly. She sucked a little before twirling her tongue around as I pushed in and out of her hot mouth, never taking my eyes from her. The pressure built within me, and I tugged on her hair so I could slip from her mouth.

My hands still in her hair, I tugged again, urging her to her feet. I pushed her back onto the bed and climbed over her. Reaching down, I rubbed the tip of my cock on her clit until she was writhing against me. I slipped inside her, feeling her body stretch to accommodate my size. I paused when I hit her barrier, gazing into her eyes.

Leaning down, I kissed her deeply as I plunged into her in one swift thrust, swallowing her gasp of pain with my lips. I forced myself to stay still as her body adjusted to my presence, peppering her face with soft kisses. Reaching down between us, I moved my finger in a circle over her bud, kissing her lips and exploring her mouth with my tongue.

She moved her hips in a slow circle, telling me she was ready. I thrust my hips rhythmically against her, pounding into her with steady precision. She writhed against me as her eyes fell closed and her breath came in sharp bursts between moans. I grabbed her chin, forcing her face toward mine.

“Look at me.” I wanted to see her desire-filled eyes as I fucked her.

Her lashes fluttered open and her aquamarine gaze met mine. “Lance, please,” she begged, lifting her hips to meet mine.

“Please what?” I teased, dragging my cock out of her before pushing back in just as slowly. “Tell me what you want, Nancy.”

“Fuck me,” she growled. “Harder! Faster! Now!”

I covered her body with my own as I obliged her, quickening my thrusts. I buried my hands in her hair, gripping it tightly in my fists, and took her mouth in a punishing kiss, claiming her as my own. She wrapped her legs around my hips, pulling me deeper inside her. Her muscles clamped down in hard spasms as she dragged her nails down my back, clutching me in desperation.

I broke our kiss, growling as the pressure inside me boiled over, and I spilled inside her hot centre, her muscles still milking my cock. Collapsing on top of her, I waited for my pounding heart to slow down and the feeling in my own muscles to return. Never in all my many sexual encounters had a woman sated me this well.

It was at that moment I knew I was fucked. Nancy Corrigan was mine, and I’d be damned if I let her go. Problem was—she didn’t even know who I really was.

Chapter Nine: Nancy

I peeked up at Lance from beneath my lashes. We had just landed in Cairns, Australia for our honeymoon and were walking through the airport.

After the mind-blowing sex of the previous evening, I had fallen into a deep sleep, not stirring until Lance had shaken me awake this morning. It had been a long time since I had felt safe and relaxed enough to sleep that deeply.

When Lance had informed me we were leaving for Australia in just a few hours, I had put up a valiant fight. But he had won the argument. Leaving the country when my business was still in such a precarious position didn’t sit well with me, but losing my life sat worse. Even I had to admit that it would be difficult for William Jameson to find us in Australia, especially since almost nobody knew we had gotten married or were leaving on a honeymoon. Lance had even agreed to let me conduct business remotely, just forbidding me from telling anyone our location.

Maybe it won’t be so bad, I thought, risking another peek at the man beside me. If we can do a few repeat performances of last night, I think I could stay in Australia for a while.

Elsa had urged me to take a vacation when my father had died, saying it would do me  good to get away, but I hadn’t had the heart to go. Of course, she had probably been right. The last several hours had been uncomfortable on the plane, but arriving in an exotic locale had distracted me a little from my grief. And there weren’t constant reminders of my father—or of Jim—everywhere I went, so that was nice.

Lance pulled our bags off the baggage belt and gestured for me to follow him. He had a rental car reserved for us, and, in no time at all, we were zooming through the streets of Cairns on our way to the hotel. When we arrived at the hotel—which was more like a resort than anything—the manager himself whisked us up to the presidential suite.

Eyeing the large bed, I knew a vacation was exactly what I needed. Besides, it would be easy to explain where I went to my fussy housekeeper turned friend. I would simply tell her I had needed to get away and had taken a last-minute vacation. I made the conscious decision to enjoy myself here. Even ignoring the assassins and fake husband, I deserved the time off as much as anyone.

Days passed in sunny brilliance. Surprisingly, Lance was fun to be around—when he wasn’t being insufferable. He booked trips to the Great Barrier Reef and expeditions into the rainforest, impressing me with his knowledge of the local sites. I assumed he had been here before, maybe on a job for Shields United, and I found myself relaxing around him.

I could actually see us coming here together in five years, celebrating an anniversary or towing a child or two. The thought both scared and thrilled me. I decided not to examine my emotions too closely until we were home and William was out of the picture. Until then, everything seemed too fragile.

On the fourth day of our “honeymoon,” Lance and I woke up to stormy weather.

“Damn,” I muttered, glaring out at the storm clouds.

“What’s wrong, Nan?” Lance came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on the top of my head.

“I was planning on sun-bathing a little today,” I grumbled, throwing myself down at the small kitchen table.

Lance had made breakfast this morning, just as he had every morning. It was one of those little surprises I had discovered about him—that he loved to cook. Not only did he enjoy it, but he was amazing at it. Digging into my eggs, I threw another glare outside at the clouds.

Lance chuckled and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “There are fun things we can do inside, sweetheart,” he purred, making my body tingle with anticipation.

“Like what?” I asked, turning so our faces were mere inches apart.

The answering look he gave me heated my blood.

“You know,” I squeaked. “I have been wanting to try out that jetted tub in our bathroom.”

A wicked grin spread across his face as his eyes darkened with desire. “Finish your breakfast,” he ordered. “Then, meet me in the bathroom. If you’re not in there in ten minutes, I’m coming back to get you.”

I nodded and turned to shovel the eggs in my mouth, but he grabbed my chin, forcing my gaze back to his. “If I have to come get you,” he growled, “I might have to punish you for it.”

He released my face and stalked off toward the bathroom, leaving me to debate whether I should make him come get me. The punishment he promised seemed too intriguing to pass up. I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I was definitely going to make him come get me.

A knock at the door pulled me out of my fantasies. Housekeeping wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow, so I couldn’t be sure who was knocking.

“Lance?” I called. “Did you order room service?”

“What?” he yelled from the bathroom.

“Room service!” I called back. “Oh, never mind. I’ll answer it.”

Rolling my eyes, I strode over to the door. As soon as I opened it, a large man burst in, grabbing me by the throat. We tumbled to the ground, a nearby vase crashing to the floor. The stranger’s hands pressed on my windpipe. I couldn’t draw a breath, let alone scream for help. My vision dimmed, and I kicked out helplessly, clawing at the man’s arms.

Suddenly, the hands around my throat disappeared and the assassin’s weight left me. I gulped in cool air, gasping and spluttering. Rolling onto my knees, I squinted at the man held in a firm chokehold by Lance.

The assassin knocked his head backwards; hitting Lance in the face and making him lose his grip on the other man. The attacker whirled around, throwing Lance over his shoulder onto the floor. Without missing a beat, Lance kicked out his legs in a sweeping motion, knocking the assassin to the ground on his back.

Lance flew to his feet at the same time as the assassin. The two men circled each other for a few moments before the assassin attacked, lashing out at Lance who blocked the other man’s punch by pushing it away with the flat of one hand. Quick as lightning, Lance struck out with a flat hand, hitting the other man in his left eye. The assassin bent over, clutching his injured eye, and Lance used the opportunity to slam his elbow onto the back of the attacker’s neck.

The assassin went to his knees, but before Lance could land another blow, the wounded man threw himself at Lance. They both crashed to the floor and grappled with each other, the assassin pinning Lance to the floor with his bulky weight. Lance attempted to block as the assassin landed punch after punch on his face, ribs, and arms.

I scrambled to my feet, still wheezing, and looked around me in desperation. Spying another vase on an end table, I snatched it up and slammed it down on the assassin’s head. It stunned the man enough for Lance to get out from under him and land three hard punches to the assassin’s face, knocking him unconscious.

As soon as the large man hit the ground, I rushed toward Lance, throwing my arms around him. He wrapped his arms around me for a moment and then pushed me back to look at me. His eyes flashed with anger as he studied my neck.

“How the fuck did he find us?” Lance growled.

“I don’t know,” I croaked, my throat still sore. “Maybe he has my office bugged and heard us talking?”

Lance shook his head. “No, I checked your office and your apartment for something like that. Your father’s house, too. All of it was clean.” He suddenly looked thoughtful.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, noticing the look in his eyes.

“That bugging your office might not be a bad idea.”

I frowned.

“It may be a good way to get Jameson or one of his hit men to admit his guilt,” Lance explained. “Then we would have his confession recorded and that would be all the proof we would need.”

“Yeah, but the only way that would work is if we go back and wait for someone to attack,” I pointed out.

Lance’s scowled. “No way.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I am not using you as bait,” he snapped.

“For goodness’ sake, Lance. We can’t stay in Australia forever. And besides, somehow Jameson found us. We went as far away as we could, and he still found us. There’s nowhere else to go.”

“We could go somewhere more remote and off the grid,” he said stubbornly.

I raised an eyebrow. “Like where? Antarctica? Face it, Lance. We have to go back. Besides, I have to be back in Vegas for the annual Children’s Hospital Charity Gala. My father ran it every year, and I won’t see it cancelled this year. It was important to him, and it’s important to me. I won’t miss it. We have to go back.”

He glared at me for a few moments before sighing.

I stroked his face. Blood trickled from his nose, and a bruise was already forming over his cheekbone. “Let’s go home,” I whispered.

Nodding, he led me into the bathroom so I could clean up his face a little. We packed our bags in a rush, leaving before the man on the floor could wake up and cause more trouble.

Chapter Ten: Nancy

The plane ride back to the States was tense. Lance kept a sharp eye out for any would-be assassins while I attempted to get some sleep and prepare for the Children’s Gala.

With Lance attending the gala as my husband rather than just as my security detail, I needed to make him aware of all the different people who would be there and prepare him for the endless small talk we would have to endure. People who weren’t used to these events could become overwhelmed. I tried to explain this to him, but he was being too stubborn to care, and we ended up sitting in stony silence for most of the flight back.

We had a quick layover in Los Angeles, and Lance was on edge the entire time, jumping at every noise and glaring at everyone who came within a few feet of us. It was a relief to arrive back to Las Vegas. Elsa met us at the baggage claim holding a garment bag and looking Lance up and down.

“Elsa,” I said, smiling, grateful to see a familiar face.

“Miss Corrigan,” Elsa greeted me with a warm smile.

“It’s Mrs. Now,” Lance bit out a little too harshly.

I glared at him.

Sighing, he offered Elsa an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, Elsa. It’s been a long flight. Nancy and I married shortly before we left. This trip was our honeymoon.”

Elsa stared at me in shock before narrowing her eyes at Lance. “How come I’ve never seen you before?”

I hurried to explain the entire situation to her, stopping Lance’s angry outburst with my hand. “I have known Elsa all my life. If we want people to believe we’re married, we need her to play along.”

He stared down at me, his eyes intense and heated.

“Fine,” he said, sighing and closing his eyes. “But no one else. I’m trying to keep you safe, Nancy. Your friends will get over their hurt feelings, but they won’t get over your death.”

I nodded, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

He wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me to him. “I wouldn’t be able to get over your death very easily, either,” he whispered.

My face flushed as warmth spread throughout my body. I cleared my throat and looked away. I wasn’t used to these kinds of feelings, and they made me uncomfortable. Elsa was watching us with a small smile on her face.

Scowling, I gestured to the garment bag. “What’s that?”

Elsa raised an eyebrow. “It’s your outfit for the evening,” she answered calmly, brushing off my grumpiness. “Unless you want to go to the gala in jeans and a t-shirt?”

I had the grace to blush at my rudeness before taking the garment bag from her arms.

“You need to be there in an hour and a half,” Elsa continued. “You should change here so we can drive over from the airport. We will arrive early, but that will give this one”—she gestured to Lance—“time to sweep the area and brief your other security agents.”

I nodded. It was a good plan.

“I’ll wear my tux from the wedding,” Lance said, grabbing my arm and steering me toward the bathrooms. “Good thing we lugged our wedding stuff to Australia with us.”

He poked his head into the family restroom, and then pulled me inside with him to change, leaving Elsa to wait outside the door.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I asked Lance as he yanked on his tux.

“Stop worrying so much, Nan. It will be fine. We’ll get through this night, and tomorrow we’ll work on catching Jameson.”

Sighing, I unzipped the garment bag and pulled the dress out. It was a floor-length black dress covered from neck to foot in black sequins. The effect was dramatic and beautiful. I slipped the dress on, tugging it over my hips and sliding my arms into the holes. The collar went all the way around my neck, hugging my throat, leading to peekaboo back like my wedding gown.

Turning my back to Lance, I wordlessly asked him to help me zip up. His fingers lingered at my back long after he had finished zipping before trailing up to rest on my shoulders.

I leaned back into him. “Ready?”

“Ready,” he answered.

I swept my hair up into a sleek ponytail that trailed down my back. I knew from experience that sequins would catch at my hair and I wasn’t in the mood to have my hair pulled all night.

Well, not by my dress, I thought, gazing at Lance in his dark suit with a hunger that terrified me.

We exited the bathroom where Elsa was still waiting patiently.

“Oh, you look beautiful,” she breathed with a small smile. “The car is waiting. I can do your makeup when we get there.”

We left the airport, slipping into the stretch limo. Once we arrived at the venue, Lance rushed off to check the security for the evening, ordering Kevin to follow Elsa and me to the bathroom where she applied my makeup with an expert hand.

“Are you sure about this fake wedding, Miss Corrigan?” she asked after a few minutes.

“What do you mean, Elsa?”

She studied me a moment before sweeping my cheeks with blush. “I just worry about you, Nancy.”

Even though I had known her most of my life, she only ever used my first name when she was serious or worried. I glanced up at her. Definitely worried.

“I’m safe with Lance, Elsa. He will keep me safe.”

“He will keep your life safe,” Elsa answered. “But what about your heart? You don’t open up easily, Nancy. You never have. And I can see you pulling away from him when he tries to get too close. If you don’t let him in, he will leave. And then where will you be?”

I was silent as I thought about what she said. Did I really do that? It would make sense if I did. When my mother died, my whole life became about my father and his company. I hadn’t had time for dating or friends. It wasn’t by choice that I was a virgin before Lance, but rather for lack of opportunity.

I liked my life the way it was. I liked working in the company and making it better. But even I had to admit that something had been missing for a long time. My father’s love and friendship had distracted me from that missing something, but now that he was gone, there were no distractions. Loneliness had slipped into my life long ago, but my father’s death had magnified it a hundred fold. It was no wonder I had agreed to Lance’s plan. Not only did I have no real experience with relationships, but I had been so alone and afraid, I had jumped at the first opportunity for companionship and protection.

That’s not fair, I thought. I wouldn’t have jumped at just anyone’s offer.

It was Lance that had made me feel safe and not so lonely. It wouldn’t have been the same if it had been anyone else. But why? Did I like him? Did I love him? The thought terrified me more than the loneliness. How the hell was I supposed to know how I felt about someone when I didn’t even know what that kind of love was?

Elsa was studying me, worry in her eyes.

“I’ll be fine, Elsa. I promise,” I said, managing a comforting smile.

She didn’t look convinced, but she dropped the subject. “You look beautiful, Nancy. Try to have fun tonight.”

Scooping up my cosmetics, she left the bathroom. I stared after her for a few minutes, lost in thought.

An hour later, I stood next to Lance, too busy with the number of people congratulating us to examine my feelings any closer. It surprised everyone in my father’s circle to find I had married so suddenly and without the ceremony and celebration that would normally have accompanied an elite wedding. I calmly repeated over and over that we had wanted a small, private wedding out of respect for my father’s recent passing. A celebration was not appropriate to the circumstances. Everyone accepted the excuse with smiles and grace, and soon, the conversation ebbed in other directions.

Glancing around anxiously, I saw that William had still not made an appearance. I didn’t know whether that face should relieve me or terrify me. In any case, I stuck as close to Lance as possible.

I snuck a peek up at Lance, marvelling—not for the first time that evening—at his relaxed behaviour. He was at home in the situation, surprising for someone with such a humble background. He ingratiated himself with many elite members of society with more grace and dignity than most people who had been doing this forever would have had.

“There’s Mark Sanderson,” I whispered to him. “He’s a retired major from the army. You might have a few things in common.”

Lance squinted at the older gentleman striding toward us.

“Nancy,” Mark said, hugging me tightly. “I haven’t seen you since the funeral. How are you holding up? I hear you’re married?”

He held me at arm’s length and glanced over at Lance.

“This is Lance Savage,” I said quickly. “My husband. Lance, this is Major Mark Sanderson, my father’s best friend.”

“Call me Mark,” Mark said, shaking Lance’s hand. “So, Lance, tell me, where did you come from?”

“Nancy and I met at her father’s funeral,” Lance explained, grasping Mark’s hand in a firm grip. “I was on her security detail and struck up a friendship with her. Over the next few months, we fell in love. We decided to get married in a quiet ceremony out of respect for Mr. Corrigan’s recent passing.”

Mark smiled. “I’ve heard all about that, son. I meant where did you come from? What’s your story? You’re in security?”

Lance nodded. “I was in the army for twelve years before leaving to go into security.”

“You didn’t retire?” Mark asked, surprised.

Lance hesitated. “I was injured in deployment, and I left once I recovered.”

I tried to hide my shock. Lance had been injured? I’d had no idea.

“What happened?” Mark asked, and I wanted to hug him for asking what I couldn’t.

“We were on a patrol just like any other day. There was a newbie that had just joined our group and we were showing him the ropes. God, he was so young. The enemy ambushed us not long into the patrol. I covered the kid with my body and took three bullets in the process: one to the chest, one to the shoulder, and another to the leg.

“The kid survived along with two others and myself. But it took a while for me to recover, and by that time, Malcolm had convinced me to come home and work for him. I still see a lot of action, and it’s still dangerous work, but I think he feels better knowing he has more control over where I’m sent.”

“Malcolm’s… your boss?” Mark asked, frowning.

“He rescued me from foster homes when I was younger. He’s like a father to me.”

Mark nodded. “Well, you did your country a service, son. You have my respect. I was all set to chase you off from our Nancy here in honour of her father’s memory, but I think the old man would have liked you.”

I swallowed my shock as Mark strode away. Nobody impressed him. Nobody. Frowning, I squinted at Lance. Something just didn’t add up about him. He was way too comfortable in a setting that would set most people to tearing their hair out. His ease and charisma came from years of practice I knew he didn’t get while in the army, and I intended to find out what exactly was going on.

Before I could open my mouth to pepper him with questions, however, a newcomer to the party made my stomach clench in fear. Sensing my unease, Lance whirled around, narrowing his eyes when he caught sight of William Jameson strolling into the room as if he owned it. William caught sight of me and made a beeline for me, his eyes flashing.

“Nancy,” he said, his voice making my skin crawl. “How good to see you. I heard you were out of the country.”

“We just got back,” Lance said, pulling me closer to him.

“And you are?” William asked rudely.

Lance smirked. “Her husband.”

William spluttered. If he’d just taken a drink, he would have done a perfect spit-take. “Her husband?” he hissed. “She doesn’t have a husband!”

“I can assure you she does,” Lance growled.

The look in William’s eyes chilled my blood.

“It was a whirlwind romance,” I blurted, pulling William’s attention from Lance. “But from the moment we met, I was hooked. He was just so sweet and caring. Lance always looks out for me, and his insistence on my safety endeared me to him. It was nice to have someone take care of me for a change, you know?” I knew I was babbling, but I couldn’t stop.

“Besides,” I continued with an insane giggle. “Just look at him. We can’t seem to keep our hands off each other.” A sudden thought struck me, and before thinking it all the way through, I acted on it. “But I guess everyone will know that soon,” I said, placing a hand over my belly, insinuating I was pregnant.

Anger flared in William’s eyes. I would have taken a step back if Lance’s hold on me hadn’t tightened considerably.

“Well,” William spat. “I offer you my congratulations. You and your new little family will get everything you deserve, Nancy. I’ll make sure of it.”

If anyone else had said those words, it would have been a sweet gesture, but the way William said them, my blood turned to ice and my heart stuttered in fear.

“Thank you,” Lance said, his jaw clenched. “If you’ll excuse us…”

He pulled me away from Jameson and off to the side of the room. “Make your excuses. We aren’t staying here if he’s here.”

“Why?” I asked, bewildered. “It’s not like he’ll shoot me in a room full of people.”

“Because I don’t trust myself in the same room as him,” Lance replied through gritted teeth.

Chapter Eleven: Nancy

I could tell on the ride home that Lance was upset, and I knew it wasn’t just at William. He was upset with me, too. I told the driver to take us to my apartment rather than my father’s sprawling house. It would take forever for security to sweep my father’s house, and I didn’t want to run into Elsa.

I had kept the apartment in the city so I would have a place of my own. Although I now owned my father’s house, I hadn’t had the heart or motivation to sell my apartment. I didn’t want to move into my childhood home just yet. It reminded me too much of my father, and it was just too soon.

Elsa came regularly to check on me at my apartment, but she wouldn’t be there this evening. Lance and I would have the privacy to work out whatever was bothering him. I suspected it had something to do with the pregnancy comment.

We arrived at my apartment building, an old stone building draped in ivy. It looked out of place in a city filled with neon lights and metal, but that’s why I loved it so much. I lived on the top floor of the five-story building, and there were no elevators, so we walked up the five flights of stairs. I unlocked my door and stood aside so Lance could check that there was no one lying in wait for us.

“All clear,” Lance called out.

I walked into my little sanctuary, breathing a sigh of relief. There was a stone fireplace in the corner of the living room surrounded by giant glass windows that looked out onto a courtyard with a large pool and hot tub surrounded by palm trees. I had a decent-sized kitchen separated from the living room by a granite-topped breakfast bar. Past the kitchen was the large bedroom with an attached bathroom and walk-in closet. The closet and the large soaking tub in the bathroom had first turned me on to the apartment, but I had fallen in love with all of it over time.

I set my suitcase in the bedroom and walked back out into the living room to talk to Lance. He was busy closing the curtains and didn’t look up.

“Lance, what is wrong with you?”

“You tell me,” he snapped. “What the hell was all that about a baby, Nancy?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I panicked.”

“It was completely off book,” he raged. “You goaded him, Nancy. He’ll double his attacks now!”

“Isn’t that what we want?” I asked my heart racing at the thought. “You wanted to catch him. To do that, we need to get him to attack.”

“This is different, Nancy. If you’re expecting a child, he can’t risk failing anymore. I might not be able to protect you the next time!” Lance screamed.

My whole body shook as I stared at him, wide-eyed. “I didn’t know, Lance,” I said, my voice cracking. “I panicked. And I was angry. He killed my father and Jim.” Tears misted in my eyes.

Lance’s arms were around me before the tears could fall. “It’s okay, Nan,” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”

I sniffed against his chest, inhaling his masculine scent.

Gripping my chin in his fingers, he lifted my face to meet his. “Never do anything like that again, Nancy. Do you understand me?”

His commanding voice sent shivers down my spine, desire fluttering in my stomach. Instead of answering him, I leaned up and caught his mouth with mine, seeking comfort and something else, a deeper, more primal need that both scared and thrilled me. I poked my tongue into his mouth, tangling our tongues together and running my tongue over his bottom lip. My tentative explorations caused him to groan deep in his throat and break the kiss to search my face.

He stroked my cheek with the pad of his thumb, his eyes burning into mine. Reaching behind my head, he pulled my hair out of its ponytail, running his fingers through the thick strands as they fell around my shoulders.

“Shit, Nancy. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

His whispered admission touched me in a place deeper than anyone had ever touched. I didn’t have time to worry about assassins as burning warmth spread from my centre to the very tips of my fingers and toes, flushing my skin with desire and longing.

I launched myself into his arms, mashing my lips on his. He responded with the same urgency I felt, nipping and biting at my lower lip and making me gasp with pleasure. Tossing my head back, I drew in a deep breath. I felt as if I was drowning in sensation, and the funny thing was, I didn’t care.

Lance trailed kisses down my neck, unzipping my dress and letting it fall to the ground. He unhooked my brain one fluid motion, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. Crying out in pleasure, I pushed him back and yanked his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. I almost felt bad, but he’d done the same thing to me only a week ago.

He raised one eyebrow at me and pulled the shirt off, baring his solid chest. I ran my hands over his exposed skin, licking and kissing wherever my hands landed. When my tongue grazed one of his nipples, he growled and grabbed my wrists in one hand, slamming me against the wall.

His lips met mine in a deep, passionate kiss. His fingers teased and pulled at my nipples until I was all but sobbing against him. Kicking his pants off, Lance scooped me up with one arm and lowered me onto his throbbing erection. The sudden fullness made me scream with a mixture of pleasure and surprise, but I quickly recovered. Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I bounced up and down on his shaft, unintentionally shoving my breasts in his face. He took a nipple into his mouth again, his tongue flicking the hard peak.

Through my pleasure-induced fog, I registered his quick walk to the bedroom where he threw me down on the bed, collapsing on top of me, his forearms taking most of his weight. He took my wrists in his hands again and held them above my head, pressing them into the bed as his fevered gaze burned into mine.

“Stay still,” he growled.

I obeyed him as best I could as he pulled out of me and then slammed back into me, forcing a low moan from my throat.

“You’re mine, Nancy,” he rasped against my ear. “Say it. Tell me you’re mine.”

He pinned my hips with his, forcing me to remain still underneath him. I glared up at him, my breath catching at the primal savagery in his dark gaze.

“Fuck, Lance,” I breathed. “I’m yours. I’m yours.”

He released my hip and pounded into me, setting a punishing rhythm as he reached down to play with my clit and I squirmed and writhed underneath him.

The muscles deep inside me clenched as a pressure stronger than I had ever known built within me. Stars burst behind my eyelids and I screamed Lance’s name as waves of pleasure crashed over me and spasms rocked my body. With a deep growl, he shuddered, and warmth spread out of him into me, causing my sensitive pussy to twitch with aftershocks of pleasure.

He collapsed beside me, pulling me to him and throwing the covers over us. He held me close, and I listened to the beat of his heart, wondering when I had lost myself so completely to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked after a few minutes, intuitive as always.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Everything is just so different.”

“Care to elaborate?” he teased.

“I’m not good at this, Lance,” I said, sighing and lifting my head to look at him. “I don’t know how to be yours.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.

“My entire life has been about my father and his legacy. I don’t have friends. I don’t date. My life has been our business. I get my business. But you… you changed all that. Now, I have you here, in my bed, and I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. Contracts and parties—even William and his assassination attempts—those I can handle, but you… I don’t know, you scare me, Lance. This scares me.”

Lance took my face in both of his hands, kissing my forehead. “Nancy, it’s not that hard. I know what you mean. Feelings like these are scary. You don’t think I’m not scared?”

“Are you?”

“I’ve only ever fallen in love one time, Nancy. She was my world. I left on my first deployment and came home to find out she had married someone else. She hadn’t even bothered to tell me.

“I don’t care if you’re a workaholic. I don’t care if you’re scatter-brained and distant sometimes because that’s how you’ve had to survive. Those things are a part of you. And I like you. All I care about is your loyalty, affection, and devotion. Friendship and trust are more important than anything else. That’s all I ask for. Give me your honesty and your loyalty, and we’ll be okay.”

Nodding, I settled my head back on his chest and fell asleep to the sound of his beating heart and the echo of his words in my mind.

Chapter Twelve: Lance

The bright light of dawn woke me from the first deep sleep I’d had in years. I looked down at the beautiful woman in my arms and smiled. Edging out of the bed, I dressed quickly in a t-shirt and jeans and slipped from the room.

I glanced around at the small apartment and got to work. Kevin had prepared everything I needed to bug Nancy’s apartment, handing it all to me last night in a large duffel bag. I crossed the living room, opened the duffel, and rummaged through it.

Two hours later, Nancy’s apartment was more secure than most government buildings. I had added the sound bugging to the mix which I knew would put Nancy on edge, but it was the only way I could think to trap Jameson in his own web.

Zipping the duffel bag back up, I crossed to the kitchen and searched through the fridge and cupboards. I had almost finished making breakfast by the time Nancy emerged from the bedroom wearing nothing but a silky robe. She smiled and rolled her eyes as I eyed her appreciatively and let out a low whistle. I could get used to having her around all the time, I thought as I turned back to the stove with a grin. Too bad I wasn’t sure she felt the same.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” I said as she sat down at the bar. “And the house is officially secure and bugged.”

“Great,” Nancy muttered, not sounding too happy about it, but she smiled as I set a plate of eggs in front of her. “Can we talk?”

“What about?” I asked, my heart flipping in my chest.

“Last night, our marriage, everything.”

“Go on,” I pressed.

“I want to know if you think this marriage is real, you know, instead of the fake one it started out as.”

My gut clenched. Was she trying to remind me it wasn’t real? I chose to avoid the question. “I know you think it isn’t real.”

She glared up at me. “How can you possibly know what I think?”

“You’re a pretty open book,” I answered, crossing my arms over my chest.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that I can tell that after we deal with Jameson, you’ll want to go back to your simple little life where you don’t have to feel anything because that’s easier for you than admitting there might be something real between us.”

Anger burned in her eyes. “You have no idea what you are talking about, Lance.”

“Oh, come on,” I scoffed. “Everyone could tell how freaked out you were at the wedding when my mother gave you her dress and ring.”

Nancy blinked. “Your mother?”

Fuck.

“Wait, Elizabeth is your mother?” Nancy asked confusion plain on her face. Then, anger contorted her features. “If Elizabeth is your mother, that means Malcolm is your father!” she yelled, standing up, her fists clenched at her sides.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Yes. They’re my parents.”

“You… you lied to me,” she accused, backing away.

“Look, yes, I lied. But I’m the sole heir to Malcolm’s company, and—”

“Which is worth three times as much as mine,” she whispered.

I frowned. “Yes, so?”

“So, you don’t come from some humble foster care background,” she snapped. “You come from money just like me. You lied to me about everything.”

“Yes, okay? You’re right,” I said, throwing my hands up. “The background I gave you was actually Kevin’s. I borrowed it from him. But what exactly has been honest between us from the beginning? Yeah, I lied to you about who I am, but you continue to lie about how you feel, so I guess we’re even.”

“You bastard,” she hissed, and then turned toward the bedroom.

I rolled my eyes and followed her, watching as she pulled on jeans and a t-shirt. Grabbing her unpacked suitcase, she tried to walk past me, but I held my hand up. “You can’t leave, Nancy.”

“Oh, fuck you, Lance.”

“Anytime, sweetheart, but I’m not letting you leave. Your life is still in danger.”

She pushed past me, heading for the front door.

“I’m fucking serious, Nancy,” I said, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. A loud crash of broken glass rang in my ears as the window beside us exploded. A bullet zoomed past the place Nancy had just been standing and buried itself in the wall.

Whirling toward the windows, I threw Nancy behind me, shielding her with my body. I pushed her toward the living room where my equipment duffel bag was still lying. Bending down, I pulled my gun out of the bag and aimed it out the window, squinting to see who had fired. A few minutes passed in tense silence, but I knew the assassin hadn’t gone. He was coming for Nancy.

“Get in the bedroom,” I barked at Nancy.

She rushed toward the bedroom door, but she never made it. The front door banged open and a burly man barrelled toward Nancy like a raging bull. I pushed her out of the way and into the wall, the large man hitting me from the side instead of Nancy.

Grunting with the impact, I went with the blow, rolling backward and jumping to my feet. The man pointed his gun at me and fired. The bullet grazed my arm, but I was already grabbing his wrist, bending it back, and kicking at the gun. It went skittering across the room. I had lost my own gun during that first hit, so it was going to be all hand to hand. Besides, I didn’t want to kill the bastard. I needed him to talk.

I was more worried about the sniper that had shot through the window. If he didn’t shoot again, he would be on his way to help this hulking giant. The man lunged at me, and I dodged, slamming my elbow into the back of his neck. He went down with a crash but didn’t stay that way. He kicked out at my legs. I dodged, but it caused me to stumble. My momentary loss of balance gave my opponent time to pull a knife out of his jacket.

He swiped at me a few times. I dodged the first two swipes, but the third one got skin. A lot of it. Warmth spread across my chest as blood seeped from a deep cut. I pushed the pain away and focused on disarming my attacker, but he was good. A little too good. I blocked most of his hits, but a few made it in. He stabbed into my shoulder, and I bit back a cry as the icy hot stab of pain wracked through my body.

“Give us the girl,” the assassin growled.

I looked over at Nancy cowering against the wall. Her wide aquamarine eyes stared at me with growing horror.

Nancy, I thought. My Nancy.

The words I had spoken in the car what seemed like a lifetime ago echoed in my ears: Someone may be trying to kill you, but they will not succeed. Not while I still draw breath.

I spat blood at the assassin’s feet, and then surged forward; tackling him with every bit of strength I could muster. Like hell would they get Nancy. I was still breathing, and I would keep her safe as long as I was still breathing.

Pulling him up by the arm, I slammed the assassin into the wall. “Who sent you?” I roared, rage rushing through me.

“Fuck you,” the assassin spat.

With another roar of rage, I pulled him forward by his twisted arm and slammed him back into the wall.

“I am all for ripping your worthless throat out, so I suggest you tell me what I want to fucking know,” I growled, twisting his arm up and dislocating it with a loud pop. The man screamed, writhing against my grip. I twisted his arm more, making the pain worse.

“Fine,” he shouted. “Fine, it was Jameson. William Jameson sent me.”

I flung the man away from me, having gotten what we needed from him. He staggered backward toward the door. A pop echoed through the silent apartment, and red spread down the assassin’s shirt. He collapsed to the ground, revealing William Jameson standing at the front door behind him.

“It’s impossible to find good help these days,” Jameson said, smirking.

I gazed around wildly for Nancy, but I couldn’t see her. She must have slipped into the bedroom. I circled back so I was between Jameson and the bedroom door. Jameson stalked toward me, an ugly grin splitting his face.

“You’re losing a lot of blood, son,” he growled. “I have a gun, and you are unarmed. Just let me pass. It will be quicker than how I killed her father. I can promise you that, at least.”

“You’ll have to shoot me first,” I snapped.

He sighed. “I really don’t want to make an enemy of Malcolm Shieldman, but if you force me to, I will kill you.”

He raised the gun. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of blonde hair rush toward Jameson. Nancy had snuck into the kitchen, not the bedroom. She was holding the frying pan I’d used for breakfast, and with one swift motion, she brought it down on Jameson’s head.

Screaming with rage and pain, Jameson whirled toward her, his gun raised. Surging forward, I knocked Nancy out of the way, and a burning pain entered my chest.

I had been shot before, which was the only way I knew I had been shot now. Crashing to the floor, I heard screaming and more gunfire. I thought I must have been hallucinating. I jerked my head around, searching for Nancy with blurry vision.

She appeared suddenly, kneeling over me and grasping my hand. Tears streamed down her face, but she seemed, miraculously, to be unhurt.

“Hold on, Lance,” she whispered. “Hold on. They’re here. They came.”

Who had come? I didn’t know, nor did I really care as long as Nancy was safe.

My father’s face appeared over me. Ah, I thought. So, that’s who had come. The cavalry. My family. Of which Nancy was now a part.

Tears splashed onto my cheeks as she leaned over and kissed my face. “I do love you, Lance. It is real. Don’t leave me. We have our whole lives left for me to prove to you it’s real. Just stay with me.”

Of course, I’ll stay with you, I thought. I would never leave you. I tried to say this, but blackness stole my vision as I squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her I would never leave her side.

Epilogue: Lance

Three Months Later

Loud knocking woke me from a very vivid dream. I waited for someone to answer the door, rolling over on the sofa and trying to slip back into the dream. It had been a good one. Nancy and I had been trying all kinds of new and naughty things in it, and since I couldn’t do anything in real life, I was determined to fuck her brains out in my dreams.

The doorbell pulled me back out of my wicked fantasies, making me swear with frustration. Maybe Elsa was punishing me for all the trouble I’d been causing her. I hadn’t been the easiest patient in the world. But who would be after four surgeries and three months recuperating? You’d think the old housekeeper would go easy on me since I almost died, but no. She ruled this house with an iron fist.

She had taken a real interest in nursing me back to health once she had found out that not only had I saved Nancy’s life, but that I also made her young employer happier than Elsa had ever seen her. Because of those two facts, I was getting special treatment and attention from Elsa, which could be good or bad depending on the day and my level of restlessness.

The doorbell rang again. Yep. Elsa was punishing me.

Hissing in pain, I forced myself to stand up and answer the door. Elsa bustled in and through to the foyer, glaring at me pointedly. I rolled my eyes but retreated to the sofa, chest burning from the gunshot wound. You would think three months would be enough time to heal, but coupled with all my other injuries, it was not.

I heard Detectives Tom Jacobs’ and Jesse Smithwell’s voices as Elsa let them into the living room. Elsa whipped me on the head as she passed by on her way into the kitchen as a punishment for standing to open the door. I glared at her retreating form but smiled once she was out of the room. It was kind of nice having two women dote on you all the time—three if you counted my mother, but she had gone back to New York with my father for a few days and wouldn’t be returning until the weekend.

The detectives greeted me before sitting down.

“Is your wife here?” Detective Jacobs asked.

“She’ll be any minute now if you would like to wait,” I answered, shifting into a more comfortable position.

“Sure,” he replied. “How are you holding up?”

“Just peachy,” I muttered.

We waited in silence for another ten minutes before Nancy’s sweet voice called my name from the back door. We had moved into her father’s place a few weeks after I got released from the hospital, deciding to rent out her old apartment.

“I’m in the living room,” I called. “We have company.”

Nancy walked into the room in a swirl of blonde hair and silk.

“Detectives,” she greeted the two men, bending down to kiss my cheek. “What can we do for you?”

Detective Smithwell cleared his throat. “We were just coming to tell you that your father’s murder case is officially moving to trial next week. William Jameson has recovered from his own injuries enough to stand trial for the murder.”

“Pity,” I muttered.

Detective Jacobs looked at me curiously.

“I was hoping he might do us the favour of dying,” I explained.

“Well, I can’t condone that officially, but I understand,” Jacobs replied.

“Anyways,” Smithwell continued. “The confession we have from your surveillance will be enough to put him away for good.”

Nancy nodded. “Thank you for letting us know gentlemen. Will there be a need to testify, then?”

Both detectives shook their heads. “Not for the moment. We’ll let you know the date of the trial so you can be ready. It might turn into a media frenzy, so if you need the department’s help with anything, let us know,” Smithwell added.

“I think Shields United can handle it,” I replied, chafing at my limitations.

Smithwell smiled. “Well, still. Let us know.”

Nancy nodded and saw both detectives out before returning to the sofa.

She kicked off her shoes and curled up on next to me. I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her gently.

“Can you come with me to the trial?” she asked.

“Of course,” I replied, exasperated. “That was a dumb question.”

She whacked my arm. “I didn’t mean, ‘Do you want to come?’ I meant, ‘Can you come?’ You’re still hurt, you know.”

“I’ll be fine,” I replied curtly.

She narrowed her eyes. “That reminds me,” she said. “Elsa tells me you are not, in fact, resting, and that you opened the wound on your arm today when you tried to flip pancakes.”

“Elsa is a tattle-tale,” I mumbled grumpily.

Nancy snorted. “Real mature, Lance.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I haven’t been as careful as you might want, but I’m not exactly used to the sedentary lifestyle I’ve been forced to live the last few months.”

She reached up and caressed my chest, taking care to skip over the bullet wound. “The more you rest, the sooner we can break that sedentary lifestyle in our bedroom,” she cajoled. She ran a few kisses down my neck as an enticement, making me groan.

“Two and a half more months,” I growled. “The doctor said I had to wait two and a half more months to have sex with you. Don’t think I’m not keeping a mental tally of all the teasing, Mrs. Corrigan-Savage.”

Nancy had decided to keep the Corrigan name to avoid the mess of legal paperwork changing her name required and to make things simpler for her business contacts, but she had taken to unofficially hyphenating our last names. I couldn’t help but use that version as often as possible, a smug smile on my face every time.

“Oh, I’m very scared, Mr. Savage,” Nancy laughed, sticking her tongue out at me.

I swatted her ass lightly, making her laugh again.

“That reminds me of something else,” she said, suddenly sitting up. “Are you going to change your name back to Shieldman?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Why?”

“Just curious.”

We were silent for a few minutes before she spoke again.

“Lance?”

“Hmm?” I answered, resting my cheek on her head and inhaling her floral scent.

“Do you want kids?”

I hummed thoughtfully. “Why do you ask?”

She grabbed my hand and placed it over her stomach, looking up at me with sparkling eyes. “No reason,” she whispered.

A slow grin spread across my face as I pressed my lips to hers, thinking this must be what happily ever after felt like.