Chapter 1

Something's wrong.

The knowledge flashed over Holdar with absolute certainty and he jerked upright. He hadn't been sleeping; He had been trying - unsuccessfully - not to think about the subject of his latest assignment. Patricia Sinclair was five feet, three inches of pure trouble wrapped in a body made for pure sin. He wasn't sure what was more annoying - the fact that she'd spent the day prancing around the swimming pool in a bathing suit that showed every one of those luscious curves, or the fact that he hadn't been able to get that image out of his head.

She'd even had the nerve to come dancing over to him and put her tiny little hand on his arm, not in the least intimidated by the fact that he was standing there with his arms crossed, glowering.

"Wouldn't you like to come for a swim? It's such a hot day. You should take a break."

She was right. Although it wasn't full summer yet, Atlanta was experiencing one of those late spring heat waves that sent the temperature soaring. Like the rest of the huge estate, the pool area had been tastefully and immaculately landscaped, and the sparkling blue waters of the enormous pool looked almost as inviting as she did.

"No," he snapped. "I'm on duty."

"You could guard me just as well from the pool, maybe even better. What if I got a cramp and started drowning?"

The mischievous intent was all too clear on her expressive little face. He bent the long way down so that their faces were level and lowered his sunglasses, pinning her with his gaze.

"Don't even think about it. If I catch you pretending to be in trouble when you're not, I won't hesitate to spank that cute little ass of yours."

As soon as he said it he knew it was a mistake. Her big brown eyes got even bigger, her already delectable scent grew even sweeter, and her nipples peaked beneath the skimpy bikini top. He straightened up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash and crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best to look intimidating.

"I'm almost tempted," she said teasingly. "But I don't think Daddy would approve, and you've already lasted longer than most of my bodyguards."

She blew him a kiss and sashayed back to the pool, luscious little ass swaying, while he closed his eyes and fought to get his wayward body under control. He tried desperately to remember all the reasons why he didn't get involved with women. Ever. He'd mostly succeeded in reining in his instincts for the rest of the day, but as soon as she'd gone off to bed that evening and he'd returned to his quarters, the encounter played over and over in his head. Every moment of it was etched in his memory, down to the tiny daisies she'd painted on her perfectly manicured nails - the ones that matched the daisies on that very brief bikini.

Fuck. Maybe it was time to move on. His boss at Rondel Security knew he didn't take long term assignments. Not this short, his conscience reminded him. He tried to convince himself that she didn't really need a bodyguard - that he was only here because her father was so overprotective - but that didn't work either. Not only was she very pretty and very rich, she had an innocent naivety that would be all too easy to exploit.

She needs me.

As uncomfortable as that made him, he wasn't about to fail anyone else under his protection, no matter how limited their time together.

That determination not to fail drove him out of bed now as his instincts pinged another warning. He pulled on the black t-shirt and cargo pants that were his preferred uniform and headed downstairs to the control room. The control room was always manned, and another guard patrolled the grounds of the walled estate.

"All quiet, Roger?" he asked as he entered.

"Yep."

Roger yawned but didn't take his eyes off the monitors. He was a big, cheerful man, ex-military like most of Sinclair's security force, and the perfect night guard. He took his job seriously and would stay alert no matter how bored he felt.

"Have a seat if you want. You probably need a break after chasing your pretty charge around all day."

"You're the second person today who's told me I needed a break. If I didn't know better, I'd say I wasn't doing my job properly."

Roger laughed.

"I lasted exactly two weeks as her bodyguard before I begged Mr. Sinclair to find someone else. She means well, but she's a handful."

He scowled, not appreciating the man's criticism of his female. Of my client, he amended quickly.

"She's safely tucked up in bed now."

"Are you sure?" Roger shot him a quick glance. "She snuck out on me twice."

"I'm sure. I added an additional security camera to the west wing and I put an alarm on her doors and windows."

The other man laughed and went back to his surveillance, but Holdar couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He watched the monitors for another few minutes, then left the control room and headed out into the grounds.

The heat of the day had eased, the night breeze pleasantly cool, and the scent of flowers from the beautifully landscaped garden filled the air. The landscaping had been a point of contention when he first arrived. He'd pointed out to Sinclair that it provided too many places to hide, but the man had dismissed his concerns.

"This is our home, not a prison, and I worked too hard to get here to surround myself with bare earth. I'll put my faith in you and the rest of my guards."

Holdar had let the argument drop and he regretted it now as he scanned the deep pools of shadows beneath the trees and tried to penetrate the thick clumps of azaleas. His orc senses were superior to human senses but he could detect nothing out of place. Nothing except the faint trace of unfamiliar aftershave.

A chill trickled down his spine. Had Danny changed what he used? The young man on night duty did think of himself as a ladies man. Holdar had even found him lingering in the garden in a place where he could see Trish's windows. The kid had claimed it was a mistake and that it would never happen again. He'd begged Holdar not to tell Carmine, the head of Sinclair's security. He'd reluctantly agreed but warned Danny that if it happened again, Carmine would be the least of his worries.

He was almost at that spot now and he automatically glanced up at Trish's window. All looked dark and peaceful, but as he started to turn away, he caught a glimpse of movement. He turned back to check and realized that part of the curtain had been caught in the long French window that led out onto the balcony and was fluttering in the night breeze. Which meant that the window had been opened without notifying him. The little minx had bypassed his alarm.

He swore under breath and headed back to the control room.

"Show me the feed from the west wing," he demanded.

Roger gave him a startled glance but obeyed.

"Fuck," he swore a minute later. "It's on a loop. How the hell did she manage that?"

"I can't believe I missed it." Roger gave him a grim look. "Whoever did this knew what they were doing. She had help."

"Is Danny working tonight?" he demanded, remembering the strange aftershave.

"No. Why?"

"Something doesn't feel right. I'm going to check on Sinclair before I go after Trish. I mean, Miss Sinclair."

Roger didn't argue. Like most military men, he respected those gut feelings.

"I'll work on getting the real feedback up and tell Banner to be on standby."

He nodded and took off for the main house at a run.

The back door to the kitchen wing was closed but unlocked. Not impossible, especially if his bird had flown her nest, but the unease shivering down his spine increased. He raced up the backstairs and barged into Trish's suite, not bothering to knock. If he was wrong about her sneaking out, he'd apologize.

He wasn't wrong.

Her rooms were empty and he recognized the empty shoe box from the delivery she'd received the day before and insisted on showing him - it had contained a pair of very high, very sparkly heels that he'd spent the previous night imagining on her pretty feet. The two dresses abandoned on the bed were equally sparkly, which meant he had a good idea where she'd gone. But first…

As he started down the wide hallway towards Sinclair's rooms, he heard the muffled sounds of a struggle. Abandoning caution, he ran the rest of the way and burst into Sinclair's suite. Sinclair was fighting desperately, despite the blood streaming down his face, but he was clearly losing to a much larger man dressed in black. Holdar roared and grabbed the other man, slamming him back against the wall.

A line of fire streaked across his stomach before he realized the other man had a knife. Ignoring the pain, he slammed his fist into the man's jaw. A gunshot sounded and something burned his arm. Fuck. There were at least two men. He threw himself over Sinclair, knocking him to the ground as another shot sounded and the bullet thudded into the wall.

He needed a weapon. He needed a way out. And he needed to get Sinclair to safety.

The man behind him moved and Holdar rolled, coming up between him and the older man. He kicked at the other's knife hand and was rewarded with a satisfying crack as the blade went flying. A moment later, the other man crashed through the French doors onto the balcony, then flung himself over the railing to the garden below.

He whirled back to Sinclair, only to see the second man disappearing into the hallway. He cursed, then grabbed the older man's arm, trying to lift him to his feet.

"Come on, we've got to get you out of here."

Sinclair was pale and bleeding, but his expression was determined.

"Trish…"

"She's fine," he said, praying he was right. "Those bastards are after you."

"T-try to u-use her."

Another pair of gunshots, then Banner appeared in the doorway, his expression grim.

"That one's down. The one in the garden made it over the wall."

Sinclair clutched Holdar's arm, even though his fingers shook.

"G-get Trish away. K-keep her s-safe."

"I will," he vowed as Banner joined them, supporting Sinclair as his face paled even more, clearly on the verge of losing consciousness.

"Trish?" Banner asked quietly, his face anxious.

An older black man with close-cropped iron grey hair, Banner had been with Sinclair for years but neither time nor age had made him less formidable.

"Not here."

"Thank God. Do you know where she is?"

"I do."

"Do you have a safe place to take her?"

"Yes."

"Then go get her and take her there. This is going to get ugly." Sirens sounded in the distance and Banner jerked his head at the door. "Now, before the cops show up. Don't talk to anyone but me or Sinclair."

He hesitated a moment longer, studying the other man's grim face.

"You think this was an inside job?"

"I'm not sure, but something's not right."

"I agree, but she'll be safe with me."

"I know." There was an odd certainty in the other man's voice, but before he could ask any more questions, the glow of flashing blue lights appeared outside the windows. "Now go."

He followed the steps of the intruder - out onto the balcony, then down into the garden and across the wall. Time to round up his lost little lamb.