Beck red wolfe security.., p.1
Beck (Red Wolfe Security Book 3), page 1
Beck
Red Wolfe Security - Book 3
Jamie Garrett
Wild Owl Press
Contents
Copyright and Disclaimer
About the Book
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1. Beck
2. Aislynn
3. Beck
4. Aislynn
5. Beck
6. Aislynn
7. Beck
8. Aislynn
9. Beck
10. Aislynn
Epilogue - Aislynn
Also by Jamie Garrett
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright and Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Jamie Garrett
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. All requests should be forwarded to jamie@jamiegarrett.com.
About the Book
Beck
Life is simple. Go to work, catch the bad guys, eat a pizza with the guys, and go home.
But I gotta admit, I’m jealous of the happiness my best friends have found.
I could find someone to warm my bed easily enough, but I want a real connection.
Someone who’ll submit to me while letting me keep them safe and protected.
And then Aislynn crosses my path and the I know I’ve found the one.
Women were made to be worshipped, cherished.
But she’s scared out of her mind and won’t tell a soul why.
She’ll tell me. I’ll make sure of it.
Aislynn
Don’t cry, my father always said. And so I haven’t let a single tear fall.
Not when my boss disappeared, leaving me with a business falling apart.
Not even when two massive guys show up one night claiming I owe them money.
Only random chance saved me that night and they’ll be back. I know it.
I’m not sleeping, barely eating, scared to death.
And then Beck asks me out. I say no but he sits there at the bar, keeping watch, night after night.
I refuse to let anyone else get caught up in Mickey’s crap, but I’m slowly losing my mind.
And then the men come back.
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1
Beck
I look out across the crowd. Club Rouge’s reputation must be catching on, as the place is fuller than it’s been in a while. Still, it doesn’t seem overfull. The owners recently undertook a makeover, keeping the decor simple, with small tables dotted around larger ones. The phrase understated elegance comes to mind.
I grin. I’ve been spending too much time hanging out with my colleagues and their happily-ever-afters if I’m starting to include phrases like that in my vocabulary. I know Wyatt’s fiancée, Maya, had a large hand in the recent makeover. Our boss, Colt, knows a guy who knows a guy, and so on. The man is nothing if not connected. And I’m grateful for him. He’s not just my boss, he’s family. Everyone at Red Wolfe Security is. Still, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel a little left out at times, going home alone when both Colt and Wyatt have now found their forever women. Yeah, I could find someone to warm the other side of the bed easily enough, but that’s not what I want. I’ve yet to find anyone that I connect with as effortlessly as they have with Emma and Maya.
Speaking of Emma, I need to get moving with the order from the bar. It’s my turn to grab the round and Emma will be onstage within minutes, wooing everyone with her sultry tunes. I raise my hand to signal Bobby, the club’s barman, then reach around to grab my wallet. When I turn back to face the bar, my breath catches in my throat.
That is definitely not Bobby.
The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen is standing in front of me. Her hands are resting on the bar, her arms spread as she leans forward just enough to push her breasts out toward me a little. Damn it. She grins, knowing she’s caught me staring, but I can’t help it. They’re perfect. Soft, round, and ample, just the way I like them. There’s nothing like a handful of the most beautiful breasts to hold onto while we make love.
The woman clears her throat, pulling me out of my daydreaming. Crap. I blurt out my order and as soon as she places the drinks in front of me, I turn and practically run back to our table. Wyatt grins knowingly at me and I scowl in reply. Sometimes, I envy the way conversation comes so easily to him. I’m a maestro at the computer keyboard. I can hunt down anyone or break into any system you want, but get me out from behind the computer and it’s another story. Reserved, aloof, quiet; they’re all words regularly used to describe me. I don’t care, usually.
Blending into the background has enabled me to excel at my job. No one notices the nondescript man hiding in the shadows. Colt’s the leader, always has been, and Wyatt is the charmer. Me? I lurk, and I like it that way. That way, no one needs to know how deep my feelings really run. But family is everything to me, and I’ll do anything for my family, blood or not.
I plonk the drinks tray down on our table and pass out the beers, maybe not-so-accidentally sloshing Wyatt’s over the edge of the glass as I place it in front of him. His grin widens. Damn him. There’s no hiding anything from either of these two, and it’s obvious he sees right through me. And just like a brother from birth, he takes great pleasure in giving me shit over my predicament. I give up and ask the question that’s burning its way through my brain. “Who is that?”
Wyatt raises one eyebrow, the little shit playing dumb. “Oh, the new bartender? Don’t you recognize her?”
I grit my teeth and resist the urge to throw my beer all over him. It’d mean getting a new one but visiting the bar again would be no hardship. But then the lilting tones of Emma’s voice carry across the club. I refuse to cause a scene and interrupt her performance and so I sit down. “Yes, dickhead. Her. And no, I don’t.”
I look over at Colt, but he’s pretending to ignore us both. The small smile tipping the corner of his mouth up gives him away. Finally, Wyatt takes a sip of his beer and takes pity on me. “Her name’s Aislynn. She worked at Mickey’s before the place closed down. Tough as nails, that chick. She doesn’t take shit from anyone.” He grins again, raising his glass in a salute. “Good luck, my friend.”
We finish our drinks quickly and I return to the bar, not surprisingly volunteering to get another round. Neither Wyatt nor Colt make any move to stop me or throw any bills my way. As I walk over to where Aislynn is mixing an obscenely colored cocktail, I start plotting my revenge on both of them. They’re enjoying this way too much. Maybe I’ll set the keyboard layout on both their laptops to Dvorak. Better yet, every time they type their name to sign off, I’ll set it to append “is an asshole”. I chuckle to myself. Perfect.
“Want to share the joke?” Aislynn has made her way over to stand right in front of me, catching me in my musings. It’s a terrible cliché, but her voice sounds like bells. It goes with the rest of her. I’d googled her name while Wyatt continued to give me shit and it means dream or vision. Aislynn certainly is that. She’s wearing a cute shirt with the club’s name printed on the front. It’s tight, highlighting her curves and ample breasts, paired with a jean skirt that hugs her spectacular hips and a pair of the best fuck-me boots I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how Aislynn manages to work the bar all night in heels like that but I send up a prayer of thanks that she can.
“Just thinking of how I’m going to get my co-workers back tomorrow,” I say.
She laughs in reply and I suddenly feel weak in the knees. At once, I know where I’ll be spending every night after work. “It’s about time they came up and bought a round, too.”
“I think they’re taking pity on me,” I say.
She tilts her head to the side. “How so?”
Here goes nothing. “Because I’m trying to figure out how to ask you out without you turning me down.”
Aislynn’s eyes widen and for a second she almost drops the glass she’s holding. “I’m sorry, Beck. I can’t.”
For a moment, I’m wondering how she knows my name, until I remember that she’s likely known Colt for a long time, even if she’d managed to somehow hide away from me until now. But that moment is long enough for her to hand me my drinks order and move away. I ignore the drinks and follow her, catching up as she pours a rum and Coke for the next customer. I don’t care who overhears us. “Why not?”
“I’m just not looking for a relationship right now.” But then a shadow crosses her face and her entire expression changes. It’s only for a sec
Right here and now, I vow I’m going to find out.
2
Aislynn
The last customer finally leaves the club as I’m wiping down tables. At least they leave me a decent tip and wave goodbye, unlike the barflies at Mickey’s. There, I’d have to practically peel them off the bar and throw them out, usually an hour after closing. I’m pretty sure if he wasn’t risking losing his liquor license, Mickey would have kept serving them until dawn. Turns out, he wasn’t good at sticking to any rules, period.
I roll my eyes at the thought. I’ve been trying to keep those thoughts—both of the man and the place—as far from my mind as possible. It was easy enough when the club was bustling with thirsty patrons, even more so when one of them wouldn’t leave me alone. I smile. Even the sticky tabletop I’m currently cleaning can’t dim the memory of the hunk who kept trying to ask me out tonight. At first, I thought his attention was just a game—flirt with the bartender. I was happy to play along if that’s all it was—a game.
But when he returned for the fifth round of drinks in a row and asked me to have breakfast with him, a drink, a walk in the park, anything I wanted, I realized he was serious. God, why did he have to land in my life right now, of all times? I roll his name around in my mind.
Beck.
Hot as sin. A tall, dark drink of water that I want like I’ve walked a thousand miles in a drought. How have I never noticed just how sexy the man is before? The combination of the body of a god and the quiet intelligence evident in his dark eyes in the biggest turn-on I’ve ever experienced.
I’ve known his boss, Colt, for years. Mickey used to talk him up like they were best buddies but I realized pretty quickly that he was stretching the truth. Of course, now I feel like a complete idiot. And yet, the guy was loyal. He’d show up every couple of months to get Mickey out of some sort of jam he’d gotten himself into. I’d chatted to him sometimes and learned more about his company and what they did. I’ve even seen Beck a time or two when he’d come along. But somehow, I’d entirely missed noticing that their unassuming tech guy was apparently a Greek god in disguise.
“You ready to head out, babe?” Bobby’s voice breaks through my musings.
“Nearly,” I say. “Just gotta finish wiping down the tables. Don’t worry, I can lock up.”
He walks over to the table I’ve been cleaning so long I’m surprised I haven’t started removing the varnish. He meets my gaze, a look of concern on his face. “Are you sure, Ace? I can wait and walk you to your car.”
I smile at the nickname. He’d given it to me the first night we worked together and I loved it. My name can be hard to come up with any pet names for and the best people can usually do is Lynn, which I hate. But Ace? It’s perfect. “I’m good,” I say, and flex my bicep. “Strong as steel, remember?”
Bobby chuckles. “Okay, Aislynn. You text me when you get home though. No exceptions.” I nod and he walks through the door, raising his hand in a wave. “Lock it behind me!” he calls out as he exits.
I smile. Bobby’s looked out for me from the moment I started working here. He’s quickly become almost like a big brother to me. I don’t talk to my own family much anymore, but I believe in making family where you find it. You don’t need to be blood-related for someone to matter.
I finish up the last of the cleaning and then grab my coat, anticipating the cool air outside. It doesn’t matter what time of year it is—except for a few brief weeks of summer, I’m always cold when I leave work. The sun set hours ago and it doesn’t take much to push a chill through my bones. The wind blows through my hair as I turn my back on the parking lot to lock the door, and I suppress a shiver. At least I can walk out the front door after we’re all closed up. As much as I might play strong for Bobby, being out here at this time of night gives me the creeps. I’m just too damn stubborn to let anyone or anything frighten me.
Memories of my father filter through my mind. Although he never said it to my face, it was obvious that he wished I was a boy. One of my first memories was of him and me out in the backyard with a catcher’s mitt, throwing the ball for hours on end. Sometimes, I fell or got a skinned knee.
Don’t cry, Aislynn, crying is for weaklings.
That was drummed into me early on. My childhood is why I love to dress up now. After spending years as a tomboy, I like to think I found my inner woman. I love dressing up and wear pumps as many days as I can. I can even run in the damn things. I still can’t let my guard down, though, not for anyone. Not for Bobby offering to walk me to my car and definitely not for Beck asking me out on a date. I can’t afford to have either of them get too close because then they’ll see the truth—that I’m scared out of my damn mind just walking across the parking lot.
The second I hear the tumblers click shut on the club door, I turn and almost sprint to my car. My hands shake as I fish my keys out of my back pocket and I nearly drop them.
Damn it!
Precious seconds pass before I get my car door open. I hit the central locking switch as soon as the door closes and then collapse back in my seat, allowing myself just a moment to catch my breath. I’ve made it safely to my car. There’s no point taking myself out in a car accident because I was freaking out too much to drive.
I refuse to close my eyes but I force myself to take a few deep breaths and finally my hands stop shaking. Putting the car in gear, I drive out of the lot, my wheels squealing on the pavement. The late hour means I barely have to stop for traffic or lights, so I keep my foot down the whole way home, and then repeat the whole dash in reverse to lock myself inside my apartment. My building barely has a door, much less a doorman, and my apartment door is so flimsy that it won’t stand up to any real efforts, but still, I feel safer closed away from the world in a familiar space.
Dinner is instant noodles and a can of soda. My refrigerator holds little else and there was no way I was stopping at the store on my way home. While the noodles steep in boiling water, I change into clothes I never let the rest of the world see—my sweats. I look dorky but I’m comfortable. I turn on mindless TV as I eat and it doesn’t take long before exhaustion takes over and I pull a blanket I keep on the couch up and over me. Sleep is hard to find these days, but if I get four hours, I’ll be able to survive another day.
Because that’s what life’s about these days. Survival.
Thanks to Mickey, that’s all it’ll ever be.
3
Beck
I sit at the bar and swallow back the last of my fifth bourbon and Coke. Or is it my sixth? I’ve lost count. The glass hits the bar with a thunk as I silently thank the military for teaching me how to drink. I joined as a wet-behind-the-ears kid, barely out of high school, who got the giggles from a single beer. Not that I’ll admit that to a soul as long as I live. But by the time I left in my mid-thirties, I could sling them back with the best of them and walk steady all the way home.
I’ve been putting that skill to good use this week. At first, I told myself I was just dropping by for a drink after work. The place is familiar—we’ve been dropping by for years, way before Aislynn ever worked here. That’s my excuse, anyway. But then a drink and a smile became three, and then more as I sat on the bar stool for hours. I stay sharp, though. I’d never drink enough to impair my judgements or I’d ruin the whole point of being here.
