“Like self-defense? I took a few lessons with Morgan last year before…” I hesitate, not wanting to even bring up finding a dead rat boxed up on my doorstep.
“Sure,” he says, not requiring me to finish. “Self-defense, situational alertness, de-escalation techniques. I’m sure Ethan wouldn’t mind us using his training warehouse.”
Heat rises to my cheeks like someone lit a furnace inside me.
“I’ve heard about the warehouse,” I mumble, glad I’m a step behind him and he can’t see my face.
“Why would you know about the warehouse?” Caleb asks, sounding rightfully confused. It wasn’t exactly used for training purposes in the tales I’ve heard.
I try to sound casual. “Oh, just something Barb said.”
Caleb grunts and checks the elevator before entering. Once we’re enclosed together in the tight space, it’s really hard to think of anything that isn’t him. His masculine smell—the perfect amount of cologne, leather from his jacket, and the faint scent of his guns and whatever he uses to clean them. His imposing body and how much room it takes. His serious, assessing gaze, always looking for threats, looking to protect me.
I squirm and try to ignore how I’m ruining my perfectly good, fresh pair of panties.
“What is it?” Caleb asks, making me jolt. Of course he’s watching. He’s always watching. “Are you worried about being followed again?”
“Always,” I murmur. At least, always when I’m not thinking about things that are very inappropriate for a professional relationship.
“I can wait inside for you today, if you want,” he suggests. It’s something we’ve talked about before.
“I’m still not ready to tell everyone who I am and why I need a bodyguard,” I reply, looking up at him with my best puppy dog impression.
He seems to be searching my eyes for something, but in the end, he just nods. The spell is broken when the elevator doors open and spit us out in the lobby. There’s no doorman in this building, but the maintenance is decent, and I didn’t feel unsafe here until the notes started coming.
A man is waiting just inside the entrance. Early thirties, non-descript brown hair and hazel eyes, he’s wearing a suit and standing like a soldier at ease. I recognize the type instantly. Secret Service.
“Coleman?” Caleb hails him. “What are you doing here?”
Why am I not surprised my bodyguard knows the Secret Service man?
Coleman nods at Caleb, then moves his gaze to me. “Ward. Miss Langford.”
“Barton,” I correct automatically with a whisper meant more for me than him. Just a girl struggling to hold on to her identity.
“The governor heard the police hit a dead end. He ordered backup, and when I heard Aegis was on the job, I volunteered.”
“Don’t call me that,” Caleb sighs, much like I did. The mirroring makes my lips twitch despite the frustration of being under my dad’s scrutiny again.
“There’s no room in my apartment for you,” I grumble.
Coleman gives me a tight smile. “No need. I’m on for the day shift. The night shift is being handled by someone else, and she’ll be on guard here in the lobby.”
“Who?” Caleb asks instantly.
“Don’t think you know her, she’s young,” Coleman replies. “Matilda Wheeler.”
“Matilda and young?” I ask skeptically.
This time, Coleman’s smile seems genuine. “She goes by Matty, and that fits her better. I’m Teddy, by the way.”
When Teddy extends his hand, and I reach out to take it, Caleb makes a sound like a rockslide.
“Maybe Wheeler can take the day shift?” my bodyguard suggests, much to Teddy’s amusement.
“And deprive me of your wonderful company during the day?”
Caleb visibly grits his teeth, and I can’t help a giggle that draws both men’s gazes. Feeling self-conscious, I clear my throat.
