Chapter one
Riley
I blew out a shaky breath in an attempt to calm my nerves. The Cup of Heaven coffee shop bustled with activity for the holiday season. Every inch of the place was swathed in delightfully colorful, kitschy Christmas decorations. The scent of coffee permeated the air, with a hint of sharp peppermint and sweet sugar cookies.
Under normal circumstances, this was my favorite time of the year and I soaked up every moment, indulging myself as much as possible. I volunteered around town at various places—serving at the soup kitchen, running adoption events at the humane society, and setting up the gingerbread house display in the town hall. I loved making the season magical for everyone.
But this year, I felt removed from it all. Like I was on the outside looking in.
Three months ago, I had an ugly break-up with my ex-boyfriend, Chett. Our relationship had been rocky for a while—his volatile temper, his cutting remarks about my weight, guilting me that I wasn’t a good enough girlfriend and I should try harder.
My stupid, hopeless romantic heart thought it was just a rough patch. I was convinced we could work through it.
Then I caught him cheating on me. At first, it was a smudge of lipstick on his cheek. A dark, wine red color that I never wore because it would make me too pale and sickly looking.
I reasoned it away. I made excuses for him. But to be honest, I turned a blind eye because it hurt too much to look directly at the truth.
When I found the string of sexting messages with a busty blonde, I knew I couldn’t deny any of it anymore.
My relationship was over.
Chett didn’t love me, which he openly admitted when I confronted him.
But he wasn’t willing to let me go either.
I sighed, chewing on my thumbnail as I scanned the sidewalk. Watching people hurry by in the wind and snow. Ever since the break-up, I kept replaying all of it in my mind. How did it go wrong so fast? How could I have been so naive?
Chett hounded me with texts and calls all day and all night. Sometimes, his tone could be sweet, reminding me of the good times we had together. But his mood could turn on a dime, spewing hateful vitriol that I was a useless waste of space and no one would ever tolerate me the way he did. I should be grateful, he said. I should come crawling back to him and beg his forgiveness…
I swallowed around the lump in my throat and took a scalding sip of my coffee. Last week, Chett escalated his efforts to get me back. He tried to break my door down.
I called the cops, but he bolted before they showed up. And since he didn’t actually succeed in any breaking and entering…the cops had their hands tied. They offered to give him a warning, but I knew that was nothing more than a slap on the wrist and he would easily ignore it.
Desperate for a solution, I went in search of protection on my own.
Which led me here, waiting for Gil “Nitro” Mullins to show up. According to the website I found, he owned the Iron Forge Security Agency, offering protection and security services for the state of Colorado.
As soon as I saw his picture, I knew he would be the man for the job.
With intimidating dark eyes, the firm set to his mouth, and a body thick with muscle, he looked like the human equivalent of a military tank.
Chett liked to think he was a tough guy after a short-lived career in high school football as a defensive lineman. Until an injury messed up his shoulder and took him out of the game. His pride never recovered, and he turned to taking out his anger on the world.
I doubted histoughnesscould hold a candle to Mullins.
After mustering up the courage to call the security agency, I agreed to meet Mullins publicly to go over paperwork and discuss further details. Since he didn’t have an office, and he didn’t encourage potential clients to visit his private home, we settled on the coffee shop.
I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t notice when the door opened and Mullins entered, scanning the room until his gaze settled on me. Movement finally caught my attention and I glanced up.
Holy shit. His picture online didn’t do justice to the sheer size of him.
“Are you Riley Butler?” he asked, extending his hand.
I scrambled out of my chair, expecting his handshake to crush my fingers. Instead, his grip was firm and brief, but careful, too. This man knew what he was capable of and he kept diligent control over it.
That was a refreshing change from my ex.
“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Mr. Mullins,” I replied. “Especially so close to Christmas.”
