Her Shield (The Uncut Series Book 1) (4 page)

  “You have a tattoo?” the deep baritone asked cutting into her thoughts.

Startled she turned to him. “Yes, you seem surprised.”

  She watched as he came closer, dressed in dark swimming shorts and nothing else. His sexy brown body held her in rapt attention. Marc took a seat next to her and removed his glasses. “I am. I wouldn't imagine you with a tattoo.”

  Isis stared back out at the water. “There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Agent Graham.”

  “I thought we were going to be Isis and Marcus?” he asked.

  “I think it's better if you remain Agent Graham,” she supplied tightly.

He sighed. “I see the brat is back.”

  “I'm not a brat!” she protested. “I just don't want to become one of your playthings.”

  He raised a brow. “First of all, I don't have playthings and secondly how did you manage to make yourself the object my pursuit?” He laughed shortly. “You think very highly of yourself Miss Martin.”

  She turned to him removing her sunglasses. “No, you do. You think you can kiss me then engage another woman in front of my face?”

  Marc nodded. “I apologized for my actions yesterday. It's clear you've taken it to be much more than it was intended.”

  “What was the intention Agent Graham?” she challenged.

He turned and looked out over the ocean. “We should change the subject,” he said tightly.

  Isis stood to her feet and quickly shoved him with all her might. “Or maybe you just need to cool off!”

  Marc fell over into the pool and came up sputtering. He wiped a hand slowly down his face as he swam to the edge. His silver eyes hardened as he quickly grabbed her ankle.

  “Let me go,” she demanded.

  His grip tightened. “You know what Miss Martin?” he said on a low growl. “You're going to learn today that I'm not that man.”

  Isis looked at the dark hand wrapped around her ankle then back to his wet face. “What man?” she asked.

  “The one who puts up with your shit!” He yanked and she went flying into the pool on a scream. She surfaced surprised and sputtering. Wiping a hand down her dripping face, she glared at him now standing on the ledge.

  “Why did you do that?” she screamed up at him. “What if I couldn't swim? I could've drowned!”

  Marc picked up his glasses and put them on. “Don't worry Miss Martin, I'm here to save you remember?”

  Isis shot daggers at his back as he picked up a towel and began drying off as he walked back into the house. She scrambled from the water and grabbed another of the large fluffy towels before drying off herself. Wrapping it around her body, she headed inside to find Marc.

  She found him in the kitchen grabbing a bottle of water. Isis watched as he opened the bottle then lifted it to his lips. He tilted his head back as he consumed the cold beverage. Her gaze went from his mouth to his strong neck that sat on broad shoulders. His chest was chiseled and smooth with clearly defined muscles. Her gaze traveled lower to his impressive abs above the waistband of the damp black shorts he wore. His long legs were toned and his calf muscles were taut as he stood with his bare feet braced apart.

  “I think you're the one who needs to cool off,” he told her after watching her perusal.

  Isis met his laughing eyes before she turned and walked into her bedroom slamming the door.  Marc shook his head and finished the contents of the bottle before tossing it into a recycling bin. He'd known all along he'd have to be careful with Isis Martin, but she was going to be far more than he'd bargained for. She was more like her father than he'd originally thought. Milton was a tenacious old bastard and his daughter was just as strong and stubborn.

  Marc headed to his room to change into some dry clothes and when he returned Isis was still in her room. He waited for her to calm down for a few hours and when it became apparent that she wasn't coming back out, he began to prepare a light meal. Ray and Isabelle had stocked the house with everything that was needed to make gourmet meals for a month or more at least.

  When he was done cooking, Marc walked to her door and knocked lightly, calling her name. Isis opened the door staring at him and he glanced inside the room and saw she had been studying.

  “I don't want to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that I made some dinner if you'd like some,” he offered.

  “What did you make?” she asked raising a brow.

  Marc paused. Damn she was spoiled. “Some food, you can eat it or not.” He turned and walked away before Isis opened the door wider.

  “I wasn't being picky. I was just asking because I'm allergic to a lot of things,” she explained quietly.

  Marc stopped and took a breath before turning back to her. “Why don't you come out and see if it's something you can eat and if not we'll get you something else?” he asked gently.

  “Thank you.” Isis followed him into the kitchen at the deliciously prepared meal.

She smiled. “Wow, you can really cook. You're like Superman.”

Marc flexed his tight bicep. “I prefer Iron Man.”

Isis took a seat at the table staring at him. “Whichever, you're my hero,” she told him.

  “You're my kryptonite,” he countered.

  She watched as he put a plate in front of her. “You bring out a side in me that I rarely see,” she explained.

  Marc took his own plate and sat across from her. “The reason we're here is for me to protect you. It would defeat the purpose if you make me kill you.”

Isis smiled shyly. “I don't think you'd kill me,” she whispered holding his gaze.

Marc watched her across the table. “You're right, I would never hurt you Isis.”

  “I know that Marcus. You saved my life.”

He reached for his glass. “That's my job.”

  “This isn't,” she pointed out.

  “Ray asked me to do it,” he explained.

She shrugged. “I think you like me.”

  “There are moments.”

Isis laughed. “I can't keep apologizing to you. It's beginning to sound very redundant.”

  “I don't get tired of hearing it,” he told her.

  “Well I get tired of saying it,” she said laughing some more.

  Marc watched her laughing and felt a jolt in his gut. Isis Martin was beyond gorgeous and when she was sitting across from him relaxed and laughing, she was beyond amazing.

  He sipped his drink slowly basking in the essence of Isis. She was an enigma. On the outside, she was grace and class, underneath she was fire and tattoos. She had been spoiled but she was sweet. She could be a brat but she was undeniably beautiful. She was under his protection but now she was getting under his skin.

  Milton Martin was in a tizzy over his daughter being whisked away and him having no knowledge of where she was. He dialed Isabelle's number in the wee hours of the morning her husband answered.

  “You'd better not be calling to harass my wife or I will keep my promise to put a bullet in your head,” Ray told him.

Milton huffed. “I need to speak with my daughter.”

  “Isabelle is sleeping.”

  “I'm talking about Isis!” Milton snapped.

  Ray walked into his home office and closed the door. “Let me tell you something you no good bastard. The only damn reason you're still breathing is because of Isabelle. Your dumb ass has almost gotten Isis killed and you still don't get it.”

  “Do not call Isabelle again or I will handle you. As far as Isis is concerned, you have someone else to deal with.” Ray told him. “And he really doesn’t give a damn about you.”

  The line disconnected and Milton stared at the phone in disbelief. He had to find out where Isis was. He couldn't let them turn her against him. She was one of the few pawns he had left.

  Ray blocked Milton's number in Isabelle's phone before heading to the bedroom to check on her. She was still sleeping underneath the covers and he reached down to touch her lovely face before kissing her softly.

  “Mmmm...are you waking me up for breakfast?” she asked sleepily.

He sat her phone on the nearby nightstand. “No, I'm just worshipping my goddess.”

Isabelle opened her eyes and smiled. “Why are you up so early?” she questioned.

  “Handling some business.”

She looked worried. “Is everything okay with Isis?”

Ray stroked her face. “She's fine, Marc has everything under control.”

  “I hope they don't hurt each other,” she whispered.

  “Second thoughts?” Ray lifted a brow.

  Isabelle shook her head. “No, they're both confused about their feelings. I hope they can come to an understanding without lashing out at one another.”

  “My sister can be a lot like Daddy when she doesn't get her way,” she finished.

  “Well Marc will have to come to terms with how he feels about her and whether or not he can put his job to the side. He's very serious about what he does and how he does it,” Ray explained and she nodded.

  “They're so perfect for each other.” Isabelle sighed. “Isis needs a man to love so she can stop doting on Daddy and Marc needs a woman who can fit into his entire life, not just the FBI agent.”

Ray took her hand. “Let's just see what happens...”

*********

  Trent entered the kitchen of his apartment then walked up behind Callie wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek.

She smiled. “Good morning baby.”

  “You didn't have to make me breakfast Callie,” he said into her ear.

  Callie turned to him. “Well since you asked your mother not to come and make it for you, I decided you still needed to eat.” She looked up at him. “Is she still upset about that?”

  Trent's mother had begun showing up to make him breakfast every morning during a time when he'd needed her.

Trent shrugged. “She's cool.”

  “You know you didn't have to tell her that. I can crash at my own place,” Callie told him.

Trent smiled. “I don't want you to crash at your place. I want you here with me sexy girl.”

  He pulled her closer kissing her lightly before she turned her attention back to the stove. “I don't want to cause problems between you two. I know you're just now reconnecting.”

Trent hugged her again from behind. “Callie, it's not a problem. I promise you.”

  “Okay, because I don't want any drama,” she warned.

He laughed and moved to the table. “My mother certainly can provide some drama.”

Callie came with two plates. “So you've told me. I don't want her pulling guns on me.”

Trent held out her chair. “She doesn't do that anymore,” he said seating her.

  He took his seat across from her and picked up his utensil. “Besides, you know how to use a gun too,” he said pointedly.

Callie smirked at him and grabbed a fork. “It's my job.”

  “Yeah, mine too now,” he agreed.

  She began eating slowly. “So Ray has you working on the case involving Isis?” she asked casually.

Trent looked up. “Yeah, someone may be trying to hurt her. He wants me to find out who it is.”

  “Am I on the list?” Callie inquired lifting a brow.

He smiled at her. “You don't need to hurt Isis.”

  They both went back to eating before Trent looked up. “Can you get me some cinnamon?” he asked watching her.

  “Cinnamon? What the hell are you putting cinnamon on?” she asked looking at the plate of eggs and turkey bacon.

  “I just want some cinnamon. Can you grab it please?” he asked.  “It's in that cabinet on the left.”

Callie turned to the cabinet. “You can't grab it?”

  “You're closer. Please?”

  She shook her head and put her fork down. “I swear you're such a baby,” she complained as she walked over to the cabinet. Opening it, she saw a small, professionally wrapped package with a bow on the top.

Callie turned back to Trent who was studying his plate intently. “What is this?” she asked.

He looked up. “What's what?”

  “This package in your cabinet.”

Trent shrugged. “I don't know. What does it say?”

Cautiously Callie removed the package and looked at the tag. “It has my name on it.”

He smiled. “Then I guess it's for you.”

  “Trent. What is this?” she asked again.

  “Uh, it has your name on it Callie. It's not for me.” He went back to his food.

  Callie watched him for a moment before opening the package. Inside there was tiny velvet box. She popped open the lid and gasped.

  “Trent...” she looked over at him as he rose from his seat dressed in a T-Shirt and basketball shorts.

He came to stand before her. “Do you know what it is?” he asked.

Callie looked at the beautiful silver band inside the box and shook her head.

  “It's a promise ring.” Trent took the box from her hand and removed the jewelry. He held it up so she could see it. “I had it engraved with our initials and Sean and Lily's wedding date.”

She looked confused. “Sean and Lily's wedding date?”

  Trent took her hand and gently slid the ring on her finger. “Yes, that's the day I first told you I love you.”

  Callie stared at the ring on her finger then back to the handsome young man that had put it there. Trent had grown so much in the last year after finding his family and she was so proud of the man he was becoming. He'd only turned eighteen a little while ago but he was so mature for his age.

  “I promise that one day this will be a wedding ring when I'm the man who deserves your heart and can give you everything that you need,” he vowed.

  Callie's eyes watered as she looked up at him. “Oh, baby...” She threw her arms around his neck and he held her closely before she kissed him full of emotion.

  Trent looked into her wet, dark eyes. “Callie you are my love, you're my heart and my Shero. All I want is to be with you.”

  “All is want is to be with you too and I love you so much Trent Harris.”

He touched her face. “Nothing will ever come between us.”

Callie smiled through her tears and agreed. “Nothing.”

*********

  Isis walked into the kitchen that morning and found breakfast on the stove but no sign of the man who had made it. She walked to the door leading to the deck and saw him in the midst of doing push-ups. He wore nothing but long shorts and socks. Isis stared as his arm muscles flexed with each rep. He continued at a rapid pace only pausing when his phone rang.

Isis watched as he glanced at the screen then smiled.

  “Hey gorgeous,” he answered.

She heard him laugh at what the response had been before he paused.

  “Yeah, uh...I don't think I'm going to be able to make it,” he said into the phone. “I know I promised but something has come up.”

Isis lifted a brow.

  “I'm sorry sweetheart. You know I would do anything for you, but I'm on an assignment.”

Isis folded her arms and waited.

  “Remember I told you about her yesterday?” he asked and Isis frowned. “It's not like that. She's a...friend.”

  Isis turned and walked back into the kitchen retrieving her food. She sat at the table with steam rising from her ears. Marcus Graham was an ass, plain and simple. Last night they'd had dinner and he'd been almost sweet and charming towards her. He'd walked her to her door and stood staring down at her as they'd said goodnight, he'd stroked her cheek and said 'goodnight Princess', before waiting for her to go inside the room.

  Isis stabbed at her breakfast. She didn't know what kind of game he was playing but she no longer wanted to participate. He could go be with his woman on the phone. She didn't need him here with her anyway. Another agent would do just fine.

She looked up as he joined her at the table interrupting her thoughts.

  “Good morning Isis. I hope I didn't wake you,” he said looking across the table at her.

Isis looked away. “No, you didn't,” she said frostily.

He nodded. “I guess I'm Agent Graham again.”

She stared at her plate. “I don't know who you are.”

They sat in silence as Isis began eating her food. “By the way, thank you for the breakfast.”

  “I took note of the things you're allergic to,” he told her.

She glanced up at him. “Thank you.”

  Marc watched her while she ate noting how she used her utensils. She was extremely proper in her eating and demeanor.

  “I have a prior engagement that I committed to today before I knew we would be here. I'd like you to come somewhere with me,” he said holding her gaze.

  “Where?” Isis asked remembering the phone conversation she had overheard.

  “A party,” he answered.

She sat her fork down. “You want me to go to a party with you?”

  “Yes, it's important,” he told her. “I'll still be protecting you. I won't let you out of my sight, I promise.”

  Isis knew she should say no, but she wanted to see this woman who had Marc so obviously wrapped around her finger.

  “What should I wear?” she asked.

  “It's a dressy affair.”

She stared at him for a moment. A dressy affair huh? Interesting.

  “Sure, I have plenty of dresses here.”

He nodded. “Thank you Isis. If I could have gotten out of it, I would have.”

  “No worries Marcus. I owe you for saving my life.”

  “You don't owe me anything. I would always save you,” he said getting to his feet. “We'll leave around noon.”

  Isis watched as he walked back to the outdoor deck. “I wish you would have saved me from you, Marcus Graham,” she said as she cleared her dishes away.

  At noon Marc emerged from his room in an expertly tailor designer suit ensemble with his Patek Philippe watch and Italian shoes. His signature sunglasses were in place and Isis watched from the sofa as he checked his weapon then placed it on his hip.

He looked over at her. “Ready?”

  She stood and his eyes raked over her behind the dark glasses. She wore a burnt orange sheath dress that accentuated every one of her body's curves. On her feet were strappy high-heeled sandals. She'd added matching jewelry and accessories. Her hair was pinned up in an intricate twist and her makeup was flawless.

  “You look beautiful, Princess,” Marc said quietly. Isis Martin may be a handful but she could do it up like no other, he thought.

  Isis knew she had pulled out all the stops this afternoon. Her hair, makeup and dress all shouted that she was that deal and nobody could touch it, no matter how hard they tried. At twenty-two, she was in excellent physical shape with a body full of soft curves. Her long dark hair that was now in an elaborate knot atop her head was full and soft. The high heels accentuated her firm legs and the dress wrapped around her body showing just enough cleavage to be tantalizingly sexy. Yes, Agent Graham...take it all in then eat your heart out, she thought.

She smiled slowly. “Thank you. I'm glad I passed inspection.”

  “You're always beautiful,” he said heading toward the door with her following.

  Marc led her to the waiting car and held the door open as she entered. He began driving and she quietly stared out of the window. Marc wondered why she was so quiet today. Normally she would have hit him with two or three shots by now.

  “Are you okay?” he asked glancing over and looking at her bare thighs where her dress had ridden up.

  “Yes, I'm fine.” Isis continued to look at the passing scenery.

He looked back at the road. “You know, if you don't want to go, that's fine.”