Protector for Hire

Keeping her safe is crucial. Guarding his heart is impossible.

Haunted by his time in Iraq, former soldier Schwartz Patton goes off the grid, retreating deep into Montana’s untamed wilderness. Now, ten years into his self-imposed solitude, his brother tracks him down and asks for a favor. A woman is in danger, and she needs help...and Schwartz is the only one who can protect her.

Designer-loving city girls like Janelle Keebler don’t belong in the wilderness. Unless, of course, they’re witnesses to a murder by their psycho drug-trafficking ex-husbands. Still, Janelle can’t help the immediate physical response she has to her sexy-as-sin protector that leaves her wanting more than she could have ever imagined. Even if he
does
make terrible coffee...

Every word, every touch, every kiss ignites a need Schwartz thought he’d lost forever. He can’t stop the desperate attraction simmering between him and Janelle, even if he wanted to. Even if it means it could get them
both
killed.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Discover the Front and Center series…

Fiancée for Hire

Marine for Hire

Best Man for Hire

Eat, Play, Lust

Find love in unexpected places with these satisfying Lovestruck reads…

The Perfect Bargain

Neighbors with Benefits

Bridesmaid Blues

Kissing Mr. Wrong

Composing Love

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Tawna Fenkse. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at
www.entangledpublishing.com
.

Lovestruck is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Heather Howland

Cover design by Heather Howland

Photography by iStock

ISBN 978-1-63375-307-5

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition June 2015

Chapter One

Schwartz slammed the chipped brown coffee mug on the oak table in front of the brother he hadn’t seen for nearly ten years.

“Cream?” he offered.

“No.” Grant reached for the mug and peered into it as though assessing the contents. “No cream, thanks.”

“Good. I don’t have any.”

“No sugar, I assume?”

“Do I look like a guy who has sugar?”

“You look like a guy who has bombs stashed under his bed. Seriously, what’s with the beard?”

Schwartz scowled and dropped into the chair opposite his brother, stretching his legs out in front of him. The heels of his work boots wedged into the space where the rough-hewn planks of his wood floor touched the rougher-hewn logs that made up the wall of his cabin. A tuft of dog fur was caught in the crevice, and Schwartz tried to remember the last time he’d swept.

He looked up to see his brother still assessing his whiskers. Schwartz lifted a hand and rubbed his chin. “The last time I had company that didn’t walk on four legs was three years ago when a couple hunters got lost in the woods. You think I give a shit what I look like?”

“No, but Janelle might. Seriously, you’re going to scare the poor girl.”

“That poor girl,” Schwartz said, “witnessed her ex-husband using a claw hammer and a guitar pick to brutally murder the leader of a rival heroin ring. You really think a little facial hair is going to scare her?”

“It might when it’s on the chin of a guy who looks like the love child of bigfoot and an NFL linebacker.”

Schwartz frowned and reached across the table and touched the laptop he’d left open to the report he’d compiled on Janelle Keebler. She was twenty-seven years old, five-foot-five with sandy blond hair, a career in graphic design, an allergy to cats, and an ex-husband who was one of the most ruthless heroin importers in the country.

She was also the sister of Grant’s new fiancée.

Which is how Schwartz now found himself face-to-face with a member of his family for the first time in ten years.

He looked up from the laptop to see Grant studying him over the rim of his coffee mug. “She’s coming here to feel safe, Schwartz,” he said. “It’s a last resort. Her only option.”

Grant held eye contact for several beats longer than Schwartz liked, which was probably a technique he’d perfected as a counterintelligence expert for the marines.

Schwartz stared back, unblinking.

Grant sighed and softened his tone. “Look, I really appreciate you doing this. You know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t an absolute emergency.”

Schwartz grunted, but said nothing. Even if Grant’s pleading on the phone hadn’t convinced him, his background check on Janelle’s ex-husband had done the trick. Jacques Armistead was a ruthless, heartless, dickless son of a bitch. If Janelle hadn’t noticed that up front, at least she’d figured it out quickly enough to divorce his ass within a year.

Too bad Jacques hadn’t gotten the memo.

The jackass seemed hell-bent on keeping his claws in Janelle one way or another. Schwartz wasn’t sure if it was a matter of eliminating witnesses, or because Jacques genuinely had the hots for his ex-wife. It was none of Schwartz’s concern.

Keeping her safe was.

He looked down at his boots and noticed a dried noodle on the toe of the right one. He hadn’t made spaghetti for three days, and the fact that the noodle hadn’t worn off probably meant he hadn’t left the cabin in that long either.

“So you have a pet wolf,” Grant said, making conversation.

“Yep.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Schwartz looked over at the shaggy beast snoozing in front of the woodstove. He was a wolf/dog hybrid, if you wanted to get technical, which Schwartz didn’t. Sherman’s massive paws were sprawled out in front of him like woolly toilet plungers. As if sensing he was being watched, the beast pricked his ears and opened one eye, and Schwartz felt himself starting to smile.

“You’re picking Janelle up at a bus station somewhere, right?” Grant asked.

Schwartz turned back to his brother. “Yep. That’s all you need to know. The fewer details anyone has, the better. We’re making this girl disappear, remember?”

“Try not to make it sound so menacing.”

“You want her hidden? I’ll keep her hidden.”

“You’re the master of that.” Grant’s tone was still friendly, but there was a darker edge to it now. “The whole family hasn’t known how to find you for almost a decade.”

“I gave you my phone number.”

“Yeah, but you made me swear on my left nut I’d never share it with anyone. Hell, half the time you screened my calls, and you used a blocked number to call the rest of the family on holidays. You put up more safeguards than the fucking CIA.”

Schwartz ignored the jab and glanced at his watch. He still had four hours before he had to pick up Janelle. He’d arranged a complex travel itinerary to get her from her home in San Francisco to his remote mountain cabin deep in the Montana woods. Cash only, no records. There’d been a series of cabs, a train, and several buses. He’d stopped short of arranging several miles on horseback after Grant informed him Janelle had never ridden a horse in her life.

“She’s a city girl,” Grant said, reading Schwartz’s thoughts and jarring him out of them all at once. “She’s in for some pretty serious culture shock when she gets here. Be nice to her.”

“Fuck off. I’m always nice.”

Grant nodded and picked up his mug. He took a sip, winced, then took another sip. He studied Schwartz with a look Schwartz could have sworn drilled straight through him, cataloging every thought, every fear, every secret.

Schwartz hated that look.

It was one of many reasons he’d stayed away so long.

When Grant spoke again, his voice was oddly low. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah.” Schwartz nodded. His chest felt tight, like his heart might bust right through his ribs. He swallowed hard to keep his throat from closing up. “It’s been a while.”

“Nine years, eight months, twenty-nine days.”

“What are you, a goddamn calendar?”

“I’m just saying. The whole family asks about you. Everyone wants to know why—”

“So this Janelle person,” Schwartz interrupted, feeling his gut twist as he steered the conversation toward more neutral turf. “She’s not expecting the Ritz-Carlton, right?”

Grant frowned, glancing around the log cabin with an expression that suggested this was about the furthest thing from luxury. “The Ritz? No. Uh, you did figure out a place for her to sleep though, right?”

“Sure. The wood shed is nice and dry. Hardly any mice this time of year.”