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“Yeah, yeah. I hear you, but that’s not the way this is going to go,” Hunter said. “Get me my price or I’m done.” He pocketed the phone and turned a toothy smile on Blade. “If you don’t tell these people what you want, they’ll dick you over every time.”

  Blade didn’t answer since an answer didn’t seem required.

  “You’re Adam Garrison?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You come highly recommended,” he said, clinking his ice before sipping the whiskey. “Mr. Black says you were a Navy SEAL.”

  “I was.”

  “Why’d you quit?”

  “Quit?” Blade shook his head. “You don’t quit being a SEAL, sir. You simply take your skills elsewhere. And I did so because I like to get paid. If I’m risking my ass, that is.”

  Hunter laughed. “That’s fair. What did Black tell you about this job?”

  “That your wife needs protecting.”

  “That’s true. She’s a hot little piece, make no mistake, but that’s not the entire reason.” Hunter sighed and motioned toward the door. They returned to the suite, and he strode over and sank into a chair that faced the view.

  Spectacular fucking view of the harbor and Hong Kong laid out in the foreground with mountains soaring in the background. Blade hadn’t been to Hong Kong in years now. He’d almost forgotten how beautiful it was. And how amazing. He’d missed it.

  He sat when Hunter waved his hand toward a chair. The butler appeared.

  “Get me a cigar, Li-Wu. Mr. Garrison?”

  “Call me Blade. I’ll have a whiskey.”

  “Cigar and two whiskies, Li-Wu.”

  The man bowed and strode away.

  Hunter leaned back against the cushions and took a slug of his drink. The apartment was opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows—truly impressive because the ceilings were about eighteen or so feet tall—rich furnishings, including a grand piano, and multiple rooms leading off the main seating area. What Blade assumed was priceless art graced the walls.

  Hunter followed his gaze. “You ever collect art, Blade?”

  Blade settled his gaze on Hunter. “No, sir. Can’t say as I have.”

  “But you’ve been to museums? Seen the great masters?” He pointed at one of the paintings. “That’s a Picasso. Ever see one of those before?”

  “Been to the Prado in Madrid once. Can’t say as they had any Picassos there.” He tilted his head. “There was another museum though. Had a big fucking painting by Picasso. Took up an entire room.”

  Hunter’s eyes gleamed. “Guernica. His masterwork.” He swigged the remainder of the whiskey in his glass. “When something is truly beautiful and one of a kind, you want to own it. And then you need to protect your property from others who might try to steal it away. Because they will try. Do you understand what I’m talking about?”

  Blade’s gut tightened. He understood far too much, unfortunately. Aided by the dossier, he knew what kind of man he was dealing with. Halliday was implying that Quinn was his property. That he owned her. She wasn’t the first woman he’d treated like a possession—but she was only the second he’d married. His first wife had died in a skiing accident in Chamonix five years ago. Her family despised Hunter and blamed him for her death even though he’d been on business in Paris at the time.

  He had not, however, been too broken up by the loss.

  “I think so, sir,” Blade replied, bringing his mind back to the conversation at hand.

  “My wife is a beautiful woman, Blade. There are people who would take advantage of that. I won’t allow it.”

  Anger began to flare deep inside. “Have there been any threats to her safety? Or is this more of a general protection detail?”

  “There are always threats. I’m a powerful man, and there are people who would use any method they can think of to get to me. I don’t want Quinn talking to anyone you don’t talk to first. No private conversations. No private meetings. You will accompany her everywhere and you will let no one get near her without you. And you’ll clear her schedule with me. No exceptions.”

  Blade didn’t like this man. At all. But then again, he hadn’t thought he would. The wariness in Quinn’s eyes had told him that much. She might be involved in Hunter’s schemes, but she still wasn’t a happy woman.

  “It would help if I had a better idea of what you’re trying to prevent, Mr. Halliday.”

  “I just told you.” His eyes were steely. “Any questions?”

  Fuck yeah. But Blade managed not to lose his cool. “Not at the moment.”

  “Good.”

  Li-Wu returned with a tray containing whiskeys and a cigar. Once he passed them out, Hunter lit the cigar and stood. “Li-Wu will show you to your room. We’re dining out tonight, and I’ll expect you to accompany Quinn while I do business.”

  “Yes, sir.” Blade set the whiskey down without touching it. Hunter didn’t even blink.

  “And Blade?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “My wife is a beautiful woman. You may be tempted. Don’t.” There was true malice in the man’s eyes.

  Blade nodded. “I’m a professional, Mr. Halliday.”

  “Ian Black said so.”

  “He wasn’t wrong.”

  “I hope not. I won’t hesitate to have you thrown off that balcony out there if you prove otherwise.”

  Blade picked up the whiskey and downed it. Fucker.

  “Noted, sir.”

  Quinn was trapped. She gazed out at the lights flickering in the darkness and felt like she should be able to disappear in a city this size. Except she couldn’t disappear at all. Hunter would find her. He had too much money, and too many people were willing to be bought. No one would protect her from him.

  She turned and went into the bathroom so she could apply her makeup. There was a business dinner tonight, and Hunter had decreed that she was going. She hated attending these things, but she had no choice. If she feigned sickness, he wouldn’t believe her.

  He never believed her.

  She brushed on mascara, let her hair down from the hot rollers and finger combed it, then pulled on her little black dress and smoothed it over her curves. She’d fought for those curves. She still fought for them, truth be known. Losing over one hundred pounds hadn’t been easy—the constant exercise and dieting, the surgeries to remove excess skin and lift her breasts, the fight to maintain her weight—but she’d never go back to the girl she’d been before.

  One last look in the mirror and she turned on her heel and strode from the palatial bathroom to the bedroom she shared with Hunter. Not that she really shared it with him since he never spent the night there these days. He worked long hours when they were in Hong Kong, though he also went to parties where he indulged in hookers and God only knew what else. When he came home late, he slept in one of the guest rooms.

  She was relieved, to be honest. Quinn held no illusions when it came to the man she’d married. Not anymore, anyway. He wanted a beautiful trophy on his arm, but he wanted something far different in his bed. There he wanted someone he paid, someone who asked no questions and did anything they were told to do, no matter how degrading.

  He hadn’t touched her in six months now. She didn’t know what she’d do if he tried—though she always expected it, especially when he was drinking or angry.

  Quinn slipped on a pair of strappy designer heels, gathered her wrap and clutch, and made her way toward the living room where Hunter was waiting for her. He sat in a chair facing the hallway. There was another man with him, but this one’s back was to her. She hesitated only a moment before striding forward under the possessive eye of Hunter. He made her shudder with revulsion, but she kept going.

  Once, she’d thought he was charming and wonderful. And he had been, so long as he’d been trying to win her. He’d been tender, attentive. He’d made her feel special. After she’d married him, he’d stopped the pretense of being a decent human being. He’d gotten his prize and there was no longer any reason to pretend. She could sti
ll recall with brutal clarity the first time he’d backhanded her. They’d been married a week.

  “Here is Mrs. Halliday now,” Hunter said, and the man sitting in the chair stood. He didn’t turn immediately. She had an impression of strength and size—and then he turned and Quinn halted. Blinked.

  Her heart sped up and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. But Hunter was watching, and the last thing she would ever do was show him that she was stunned. Because he’d want to know why, and then he might send Adam away once he knew.

  Adam Garrison! She had so many questions, none of which she could ask with Hunter standing by.

  “Mrs. Halliday,” Adam said, and her heart throbbed as her brain raced to figure out the situation. Why was he here? What was going on? Was this an elaborate setup? Was Hunter doing this to punish her?

  “This is your new bodyguard, Quinn,” Hunter said. “You can call him Blade.”

  Blade?

  Quinn took a deep breath. She couldn’t show any emotion until she figured this out. She forced a polite yet distant smile to her lips. She was good at that. So good. She’d had to learn since the man she’d married looked for any signs of partiality or affection toward anyone—or any creature—on her part. Then he ruthlessly cut them from her life. She’d learned the hard way when she’d come home one day and her cat was gone.

  After she’d sobbed and begged him to give Tigger back, he’d said it was too late. Tigger had been taken to a shelter and adopted by a family with a little girl who adored the cat. Did she really want to ruin a little girl’s happiness that way?

  Yes, she did, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Hunter wasn’t going to get Tigger back no matter how she begged. She’d called the shelter when Hunter wasn’t around and verified that her cat was really okay. Once she knew that, she’d stopped asking for his return. But she still missed him. So damn much.

  Quinn swallowed a knot of unhappiness as she looked at the man standing in front of her. He was still tall, still handsome. But so much more intimidating than he had been when she’d last seen him. When was that? Eight years ago?

  Only eight years. She felt as if she’d aged fifty years since then.

  She held out her hand for a polite shake. She was trembling, but she hoped he didn’t notice.

  “Blade? Well, that certainly sounds intimidating.”

  “I hope so, ma’am.” His gaze searched hers as he took her hand briefly, but she didn’t give in to even an ounce of reaction. So far as he was concerned, she had no idea who he was. It was better that way. Better for them both.

  Li-Wu walked into the room and announced the car was ready. Hunter strode away, utterly unconcerned about her. Adam—Blade—stepped aside and motioned for her to precede him.

  There was a lump in her throat as she followed Hunter’s retreating form. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She dragged in a breath and told herself in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t indulge them. Not now. Not here.

  Not ever. Tears were weak. And Quinn couldn’t afford weakness. Not if she wanted to survive the hell she currently lived in. There would come a day when she could walk away without consequences.

  But that day wasn’t today.

  Chapter Three

  Blade kept an eye on the people around Quinn. They were attending a house party at the home of one of Hong Kong’s premier businessmen. His rooftop apartment was even more spectacular than Hunter Halliday’s, complete with a pool and grass and a band. Waiters circulated between the guests, offering trays of appetizers and glasses of wine and champagne.

  Hunter held court with a group over in one corner of the yard, smoking cigars and howling with laughter. Quinn was with a different group. She didn’t talk much, but she stood politely and nodded, adding to the conversation when required.

  Blade stayed behind her, just within reach, not saying a word, not drinking alcohol or eating any of the food. Instead, he sized people up, watched those who stared at Quinn until they caught him looking and turned away.

  He hadn’t had a moment alone with her yet, and he wasn’t trying to get one. It would happen naturally, and he’d let her lead the conversation when it did. He knew she’d recognized him, no matter that she’d played it cool.

  He was curious about that coolness. About why she hadn’t admitted she knew him. It should be a harmless thing to do, and yet it clearly wasn’t. Still didn’t mean she wasn’t guilty of being involved in Hunter’s dirty deals. She might know all about them even if she wasn’t actively a part of it.

  The ride over here had been interesting. Hunter was already in the Rolls when Quinn and Blade walked out of the building. Blade held the door for her, and she climbed into the car. He’d gotten into the front with the chauffeur, and they’d glided away from the building. Hunter made phone calls and talked the entire way. Quinn didn’t say a word, and Hunter didn’t talk to her.

  When they arrived at the venue, Hunter left her in the car. Blade was the one who waited for her. The chauffeur held the door but didn’t offer a hand. Blade did. She took it, her fingers closing into his palm, an electrical sizzle skimming through his veins at that slight touch.

  It surprised him more than anything. If she felt it too, she didn’t give it away by word or look. She simply emerged from the car, one creamy leg after the other, then stood and straightened her dress before walking after her husband.

  Now she excused herself from the others and turned to give him a look. “I have to go to the restroom,” she said in her soft British accent. “Are you following me there too?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Halliday. Those are my orders.”

  Her mouth tightened at the corners. God, he couldn’t get over how she’d changed. She was still Quinn. Still the girl with the pretty green eyes and the long russet hair, but she wasn’t the Quinn he’d known. Her face was thin. Her features were well-defined. Her eyes were no longer lost in her face. They were prominent, as were her cheekbones and her nose and chin.

  “Then I guess we’d better go.” She spun on her heel and marched into the apartment, heading straight for the restroom. The door was locked when she got there and she halted, squaring her shoulders before turning to face him again.

  There was no one else waiting to use the facilities and they were far enough away from the other guests to finally be alone. Sort of.

  Blade gazed down at her, studying her. “You look good, Quinn,” he said softly.

  Her brows drew low and she dropped her lashes. “You might have known if you hadn’t disappeared on me. What’s it been—eight years?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her gaze speared into him, eyes blazing. “You dropped off the face of the earth. But we weren’t really friends, were we? I was just some fat girl you felt sorry for when we were in high school.”

  Guilt pricked him. “I was your friend. Life just got in the way after high school. I joined the Navy and I didn’t have a lot of time for texting or posting updates on social media.”

  That was an understatement. Not that he had time for it now either. Social media was not only a time suck, it was also pretty dangerous considering what he did. So he avoided it.

  “Why are you here now? How did Hunter find you?”

  “I’m in private security. He contacted my boss. This is a coincidence.”

  She was frowning hard. “He doesn’t know that you know me?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t tell him. Whatever you do, don’t tell him. He won’t like it.”

  Blade wanted to punch Hunter Halliday square in the mouth. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  Her lip trembled, and a stone formed in his gut. “You should be, Adam. Hunter is not a nice man. And if he has any idea that you were once important to me—well, it won’t be pretty.”

  He was angry. Fucking pissed as hell. She was scared for him. And he didn’t like it. “Call me Blade or he’ll suspect something.” He sucked in a breath. He could be cool about this. He would be cool for her. Because she was a
fraid. Though a little voice niggled at him, wondering if this was all an act.

  We don’t know that she’s not involved.

  “I won’t tell him, Quinn. I’m here to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” She laughed bitterly. “No, you’re here to imprison me.”

  The bathroom opened and a woman walked out. Blade didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Quinn went inside and locked the door.

  How was she supposed to do this? Quinn stood in the bathroom and sucked in deep breaths, willing herself not to scream. She had to act normal or Hunter would suspect something. Worse, what if Adam—Blade—decided this whole situation was too crazy for him and quit? She’d be alone. Even with a new bodyguard, she’d be alone. Because at least Blade was someone she shared a history with.

  She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. It certainly made her emotions more chaotic. She’d had the hots for Adam Garrison in high school. Who hadn’t? He was beautiful, and that hadn’t changed. He’d grown older, tougher, bigger. But he was still the boy who’d whipped asses for her. He’d stood in the circle of those bullies and he’d warned them what was going to happen if they didn’t apologize and walk away.

  They’d laughed louder. Until he’d mopped the floor with them. She’d never seen arms and legs move like that before. He’d just moved to London from Hong Kong. He had martial arts training and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

  Nobody at that school ever bothered her again. Not with Blade in her corner. He hadn’t even minded that she followed him around like a lovesick puppy. He’d ignored her for a few days, and then he’d started talking to her.

  She’d loved his cute American accent. She had a British accent because she’d spent most of her life in London, though she was an American too. They’d had some things in common. Blade listened to her, and he encouraged her. She’d begun to believe that she could do anything if she tried hard enough. It had still taken her a few years to actually do it, but she had.

  She washed her hands and fluffed her hair. Reapplied her lipstick. She had to go back out there and not let emotion get the best of her. Blade wasn’t her friend anymore. He’d graduated and moved away, and then he’d stopped answering her texts. She’d stopped messaging after a while, but she’d never forgotten him. Or the way she’d felt for those couple of years she’d known him, when she’d wanted him to be her boyfriend but she’d known he never would be. Because he was beautiful and she wasn’t.