The Choice
Authors: Jean Brashear
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Suspense, #Contemporary, #General
What people are saying about Jean Brashear
“Jean Brashear will knock your socks off!” ~New York Times bestselling author Stella Cameron
“A stunning debut! Filled with passion and intrigue, it SSSizzles with sensuality and suspense from beginning to end!” ~New York Times bestselling author Sharon Sala
“He’s dangerous and sexy, with the soul of a lover and the heart of a hunter...Ms. Brashear’s fresh writing style offers the reader a stylish love story imbued with high drama, substantial conflict, a strong heroine and delectable hero.” ~Romantic Times 4 ½ stars (Exceptional), Top Choice, WISH Hero, Reviewers’ Choice Award winner, Best First Book
“Author Jean Brashear evokes an atmosphere of unrelenting danger that is further enhanced by the explosive chemistry between the hero and heroine. This fast-paced, sexy page-turner draws the reader into a world of shadows and intrigue. It is top-notch romantic suspense.” ~ Gothic Journal
The Choice
By
Jean Brashear
E-Book Copyright © 2011 by Jean Brashear
An updated and revised version of The Bodyguard’s Bride, first published by Harlequin S.A., Silhouette Special Edition, October 1998
These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Jean Brashear.
Cover art by Angie Bare Graphic Design
E-book formatted by Jessica Lewis
Dedication
For Ercel, who always believed in me, even when I didn’t.
For that and so many other reasons, you’re my hero.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
She’d nailed her audition.
One more door, and Klaus Hafner would die even sooner than Jillian MacGregor had planned. She hadn’t really expected to get this far when she set out to break into the fortress that was the arms dealer’s home, but she wasn’t complaining. Holding her breath as she reached for the door handle, she squeezed the knob gently while she turned it.
Air stirred behind her.
Too late, she pivoted.
A muscled arm seized her throat.
Then...darkness.
* * *
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what happened. I never once took my eyes off the monitors, I swear it.”
“You’re telling me she’s invisible?”
Jillian kept her eyes shut to buy time. Her shoulders ached from lying on hands tied behind her back.
“Yes, sir—uh, I mean, no, sir.” Exasperation threaded through the subordinate’s tone. “I don’t know what the hell happened, sir.”
“Figure it out,” snapped the deep voice.
“Yes, sir.”
Footsteps hurried away. Cool air brushed over her body as the door closed.
An edgy silence pulsed around her. Jillian was careful to keep her breathing steady and her muscles relaxed, though she wanted badly to get a look at her surroundings.
“You might as well open your eyes.”
Clearly not a suggestion. This man was accustomed to obedience.
She debated over whether to ignore him or to give into the temptation to look.
“Your acting skills need work. You’re wasting my time and yours.”
Angrily Jillian opened her eyes.
Black hair, almost to his shoulders, slashed by silver at the left temple. Smoky eyes, hardening to steel as she watched. Tall...very tall. Powerful shoulders and arms, a face that could have been carved from stone. High, slanted cheekbones. Dark, thick brows shadowed eyes creased by time in the sun, a strong Roman nose. The one touch of humanity was the cleft in his chin.
Who was he? Definitely not her quarry, Klaus Hafner.
Jillian stilled. This must be the man she’d heard about only in whispers. The elusive Cullinane.
“What’s your name?”
“You first,” she said.
“I don’t think so.” An icy smile. “I hold the cards. Who are you? What are you doing here?” He strode around the oversize cherry desk to stand over her, arms crossed against his beautifully muscled chest. A jagged scar slanted from breastbone to navel.
“I want a job.”
One eyebrow arched.
Good. She’d surprised him.
In an instant, the mask returned. He merely cocked his head to indicate that he was listening. “Name?”
“Jane Doe. Was it you who stopped me?”
His negligent shrug ticked her off. “Your system’s not so hot,” she jibed. “I got through.”
The momentary flash of annoyance pleased her.
“Solly.” He barely raised his voice, and the door opened.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Our...guest likes to play games. Find her bag of tricks. Get me a name.”
“Already on it, boss.”
A very long moment passed, thick with challenge.
She stared at the ceiling in silence, ignoring the pain in her shoulder. Pale golden light from the desk lamp threw odd shadows on the creamy plaster. Rich, dark paneling absorbed what little light escaped.
“What kind of job?” he asked at last.
“Bodyguard.”
“Not happening.”
“
I
wouldn’t have let anyone get through to him,” she taunted. “Just like I wasn’t stupid enough to leave ID.”
“Why you?” An insulting scan of her body. “You’re built like a thief, not hired muscle.”
She had definitely done her share of breaking in. A kid on the streets couldn’t be particular when it came to survival. “So I appear less threatening. People assume I’m his latest conquest.”
“But you can’t go everywhere he does.”
“The bathroom, big deal. You always use teams anyway.” She refused to let her anxiety through. This had to work.
He was already shaking his head to refuse when a new voice spoke from the doorway.
“I like it, Cullinane.”
* * *
The woman craned her neck to see Hafner, and Cullinane had a moment’s regret over laying her out on his office sofa. Hafner’s voracious appetites would definitely be aroused by this woman in her tight black garb.
Black covered her from neck to toe, but when he’d removed her cap, cinnamon hair had spilled out, a superb foil to the black garment and the dark leather, a fire breaking winter’s chill.
The figure-hugging garment revealed more than it concealed. Despite what he’d said, she was trim and toned, and though she wasn’t tall, her legs seemed to go on forever. Her breasts would fill a man’s hands, and her hips rounded nicely from a slender waist.
Oh, yes, Hafner would like it. No doubt at all.
Who wouldn’t?
The man himself crossed the room, navy silk dressing gown tied at the waist over pajama bottoms. The gold chains he favored glimmered within graying chest hair. His short, iron-gray hair stood up in spikes from a restless night.
Cullinane watched as Hafner’s gaze roamed over her body. She was a cool one, all right. Her whiskey-brown eyes hardened, and she kept her body absolutely still as Hafner subjected her to a perusal little short of lascivious and degrading.
Then he smiled, slow and sleazy. “Oh yes, I want her.”
Cullinane rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know if she’s competent. You know nothing about her.”
“I know she came within twenty feet of me, and your system didn’t catch her.” Watery blue eyes snapped with displeasure.
Cullinane gritted his teeth. “I caught her.” He’d be chewing some butts out over this screw-up, but in the final analysis, the responsibility for Hafner’s safety rested with him.
Hafner’s eyebrows lifted. “Ah, yes, my trusty fail-safe. But what if you’d slept too soundly or been...otherwise occupied? What then?”
“It’s being handled.”
Hafner’s smile turned expansive though his eyes never thawed. “Oh, I have no doubt that it is, my dear friend. And I pity the man who failed in his duties.” He turned back to her, drawing Cullinane’s gaze toward her once more. When Hafner reached out to touch her, Cullinane’s jaw tensed even as he wondered why the hell he cared. She’d been the one who’d barged in here. All she was to him was a distraction much too late in the deadly game he was playing.
But she was one tough cookie, this one. She wrapped an air of such icy disdain around her that Hafner’s hand hovered just an inch or two from her breast—
And then withdrew.
Hafner stood there for too long, his fingers flexing. The woman stared at the ceiling as though he didn’t exist. She had no idea the danger she’d put herself in—Hafner was thoroughly amoral and increasingly unpredictable.
Quietly—too quietly—Hafner spoke. “Check her out, Cullinane. I want her.”
Then, finally, he left.
The woman took a deep, shuddering breath.
Maybe she did know.
* * *
At long last Jillian was alone. She rubbed her wrists to restore circulation, her arms prickling as the blood rushed back into them. She scanned the sparse, impersonal room to which she’d been moved and wondered where the cameras were. It would be foolish to assume there were none.
Had Belinda ever been locked in here?
Where did Hafner keep his pretty playthings until he tired of them? Had his right hand man Cullinane been the one to murder her or had she rated only a peon as her executioner?
Oh, Belinda, if I hadn’t turned my back when you ran away, could I have saved you?
Frowning, Jillian rose from the padded bench hugging the wall. Her sister, the only person who’d ever loved her, was dead. Too late for the old business of regrets. Time for new business.
An eye for an eye.
The sooner the better.
She’d made an impression; that would have to content her for now. Cullinane might be ice down to the bone, but her proposal made sense, and he would surely see that. Drawing a deep breath, she moved into the tai chi twenty-four to calm herself and loosen her muscles. In the belly of the beast, keeping herself focused could mean the difference between success and failure.
Between life and death.
Between obtaining a justice the system had denied and living the rest of her days knowing a monster was free. Those charged with dispensing justice to vermin like Klaus Hafner had decided to turn a blind eye.
She would not.
As well as she knew her own name, Jillian knew that Klaus Hafner had disposed of her sister like so much garbage. The charade as his bodyguard would not be easy to manage with hate burning a hole in her gut, but it would get her what she needed.
She would be within killing range of her sister’s murderer.
Often.
Cullinane might have stopped her tonight, but she’d never intended to do more than provoke interest by slipping inside their defenses. She hadn’t truly believed that she could get as far as she had, but thanks to someone’s inattention, she’d come almost within killing range.
