Her Keeper Read online

  HER KEEPER

  Rianna Campbell

  To my husband, and to all those who are still healing.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  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

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  About The Author

  MacLachlan Security Group

  CHAPTER ONE

  Parker couldn’t quite decide what he hated most about this place. There were a lot of things to choose from, but he narrowed down the very worst of them to the two or three things that really bothered him.

  If he had to choose, he would say it was the fact that Elysium was basically a glorified dungeon, but everything from the decor to the uniforms the employees wore had been carefully designed to make it seem like it was a privilege to give them your money. It was trying way too hard to be tasteful.

  Parker would have been much more comfortable if it were an actual dungeon and the staff walked around in head-to-toe leather. At least then you’d know exactly what you were getting. This whole place was like lipstick on a pig. Dishonest and not fooling anyone.

  All these rich people hanging around drinking cocktails like this was some damn charity function made him physically ill. It was all so typical of the upper crust to hide behind fancy clothes and polite conversation when everyone in the room knew it was a lie.

  He didn’t understand the unspoken commitment they all apparently shared to maintaining the lie. They were all here for the same reason, and yet the only conversations he ever heard were perfectly boring. What was the point of it all?

  He knew full well what went on upstairs, and as far as he was concerned, it was none of his damn business. God knows he’d have a serious problem if anyone started poking around and judging his private life.

  He couldn’t give a rat’s ass what people did to or with other consenting adults, but he didn’t understand these people. It was like they spoke a different language, some crazy code where nothing was taken at face value. A language full of hints and innuendo and talking around shit rather than just saying what you had to say. It drove him crazy.

  He’d been stuck working Friday and Saturday nights at Elysium for the last two months and he didn’t like it any more now than he had that first night. He couldn’t wait until Connor finally hired and trained more guys so that he could move the hell on to something new.

  Connor MacLachlan, his boss, and friend, owned a security company, along with Sam Waters, a buddy of Connor’s from his days in the Army. Connor handled all the clients and staff, whereas Sam was more of a silent partner.

  Sam was terrible with people. He was too blunt and too sarcastic to be able to deal with clients. Parker didn’t mind him, but he was a special case. If there was anyone who was worse with people than Sam, it was him. And he wasn’t nearly smart enough to make up for it like Sam was.

  Sam was tech-savvy and smart as hell, though not as smart as he thought he was and spent most of his time sourcing the best security systems and gear. Important? Sure. But it left a whole hell of a lot on Connor’s shoulders, which is why Parker hadn’t gone into his office and tried to talk his way into a new assignment.

  Connor had been handling the lion’s share of the workload from the get-go, but with the business expanding and Connor’s wedding only weeks away, he was already spread too thin. He’d been talking about hiring more people to handle the workload and maybe creating a new position so he could delegate some of his responsibilities. After all, he wanted to slow down a little and enjoy married life.

  And Parker sure as shit couldn’t blame him. Connor’s fiancé, Alexandra, was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, inside and out. She had seemed to think that taking on Connor meant adopting all the guys who worked for him. Not only had she taken it for granted that they were all one big family, but she genuinely seemed to enjoy it.

  And she took the job seriously. She was the mother hen type, making them food and inviting them over for the holidays if they couldn’t get back home to visit family. Hell, she even got them all gifts for Christmas last year, and Connor let it slip that she’d asked him for everyone’s birthday so she could "be prepared."

  She’d also kick their asses when she needed to; telling them when they were being dumb or breaking up the bickering that went hand in hand with having seven men occupying the same space for any length of time.

  There had been something about her from the very beginning that had gotten to all of them, including him. She was just a genuinely sweet, kind woman with a backbone of steel and a mind that was sharp as a tack. And she made Connor happier than anyone had ever seen him before. As far as they were concerned, she was a fucking angel. Any one of them would walk through fire for her.

  She’d stepped into their weird little family and instantly become a huge part of it. Which made his fascination with her younger sister even more uncomfortable. He could just imagine how quickly her opinion of him would go down the shitter if he started sniffing around Amanda. Not that he intended to do any such thing.

  Alexandra was protective of those she cared about. When Connor had been shot, she’d stayed by his side all the way to the hospital. She’d been banged up pretty badly herself, but she’d refused to get into a separate ambulance or receive any treatment until Connor was rushed into surgery and she wasn’t allowed to follow him. Even then, she only sat through the bare minimum before she was back in the waiting room asking if there was any news.

  Not the kind of girl who keeps her mouth shut and does nothing when someone she loves is in pain. Or about to make the biggest mistake of her life, as the case may be

  She might like Parker now, but he had no delusions about how quickly that would all evaporate if she thought he was trying to hook up with her baby sister. Her only sister. Not that Amanda would even be interested.

  They were good people from what he knew of the Hughes family, but they were also rich people. Not quite Bill Gates' money, but certainly way above his pay grade. They’d fit in better with the high-class folks who were milling around below him.

  Amanda might have given him a second look from time to time, but he knew better than to think it meant anything other than the fact that he wasn’t hard on the eyes and he cleaned up nice. But he’d long ago come to terms with the fact that he just wasn’t good enough for someone like her.

  It wasn’t that he thought rich people were actually better than anyone else, but the world they lived in would be totally alien to someone who was born and raised in a trailer park in rural Montana and barely made it out of high school.

  He had a decent job now with good bennies, but that was more luck than anything else. If he hadn’t met Jackson, who’d managed to get him through school and give him something to do as an adult, he’d probably be back in that trailer park, or one like it, amounting to absolutely nothing.

  He really owed Jackson his life. But not even Jackson could erase what he was, and what he would always be. He’d polishe
d it up a little, but underneath he was still the same worthless kid from the sticks.

  He’d accepted that a long time ago, but for someone like Amanda Hughes, it wouldn’t be so easy. And the last thing he’d want to do is drag her down to his level. No, she would be much better off if he kept his hands to himself. His eyes, though… that couldn’t hurt, could it? “Look but don’t touch,” sounded fair enough, so that’s what he’d done since the first day they met.

  Speaking of watching, he really should have been paying more attention. The club was getting crowded, the volume level increasing even though everyone spoke in reasonable tones and the music was never louder than a whisper. He couldn’t even tell what it was, not that he knew much about jazz to begin with.

  He stood on the sprawling club’s upper level, monitoring the crowd assembled in the great room below. Cam was at the door, checking names off their list of guests and members, while Ian stood on the floor below looking as miserable as Parker felt.

  There were four or five members of the club’s own security staff on the premises stationed at various points around the ground floor that were difficult to see from the balcony or the main room. Part of Parker’s job was to train the club’s newly hired, and very green staff to make sure they were up to snuff.

  The club had only been open for a couple of months and they apparently had no trouble finding clientele, but they needed some help getting their security staff up and running. Connor had signed them on for a one-year contract which included training new security employees and developing a training program for them to use once the contract was up.

  Parker thought Connor was basically shooting himself in the foot, but then again, what did he know? He was just hired muscle. He left all the business decisions and big picture stuff to the people who were qualified for it. Just like the Marines, he kept his head down and followed orders. That’s what he was good at.

  Parker checked his watch and groaned when he realized he had another two hours to go. His sleep schedule was completely fucked at this point between working days most of the week and then nights on the weekends.

  He’d gotten up too early that morning and didn’t like taking naps, so here he was at two in the morning after having been up for the last twenty hours, give or take.

  Apparently, he was so tired his eyes were playing tricks on him. It was the only explanation for what he thought he saw.

  On the floor below him, he caught a flash of honey-colored hair brushing a set of slim shoulders and bare, toned arms. With long legs in high heels, she stood with one hip cocked, a drink in one hand. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought it was Amanda.

  Same athletic build and graceful, confident posture. Her back was to him, but he would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that it was her. Then he noticed her companion and prayed that he was wrong. She was talking to some slimy looking fucker in a black suit. His open collar exposed a thick gold chain and he wore a Rolex to match.

  Parker wasn’t good with fashion but even he thought the dude looked tacky and flashy. Of all the rich little pukes he’d ever met, the flashy ones were always the worst. He really hoped that wasn’t Amanda, because he couldn’t be responsible for his reaction if it was.

  The black dress she wore was deceptive. At first glance, it appeared as though it covered her from shoulders to knees. But then he noticed the zipper that ran the entire length of the back of the dress. It was unzipped from the top all the way down to her lower back, exposing a large expanse of smooth ivory skin. The bottom of the zipper had been pulled up to mid-thigh, giving a tantalizing glimpse of yet more of those toned legs.

  Her shoes looked like they’d been made out of a leather harness, with buckles everywhere. Several large bangles clinked together every time she lifted her glass to sip her drink.

  Parker stood, riveted, just waiting for a glimpse of her face. His heart was beating hard in his chest, the steady thump pounding in his ears.

  It’s not her.

  Amanda had a bit more of an edge to her than Alexandra. She wasn’t quite as straightlaced, but he had never imagined he’d see her here, of all places.

  It can’t be her.

  That thought sent a shudder through him. The very idea of Amanda at this type of club was enough to give him an aneurysm. The thought of her at this club with that type of douche-canoe had him grinding his teeth until he thought his jaw would break.

  The image of her supple body spread out on black satin sheets, hands and ankles cuffed to a large four-poster bed, made him instantly hard. But the thought of any man here being in that room with her made him want to burn the damn place to the ground. No, not just this place, the whole goddamn world.

  He’d burn it all down for her, and didn’t that just scare the shit out of him?

  She was talking and laughing, gesturing with her hands as she spoke and Parker caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the inside of her wrist. His mouth dropped open just as the woman turned her head and looked directly up at him.

  Her eyes widened in recognition and she froze.

  Fuck. Me.

  ✽✽✽

  Oh, shit. Ohshitohshitohshit.

  Amanda took a deep breath to reign in her panic and turned away slowly. She had imagined about a dozen different scenarios for how the night would go, but she had not considered this one. Not in a million years would she have expected to run into him, of all people.

  She tried to remember what she’d been saying to Colin, but couldn’t. Not that Colin seemed to mind really. He could hold down a conversation all by himself. Ten minutes into dinner, she’d begun seriously regretting accepting his invitation.

  Colin was nice enough, she supposed, but she knew going into this that the odds were not in his favor. But… he’d offered the one thing that she hadn’t been able to say no to- a chance to get into Elysium.

  She’d been dying to get in since she’d first heard about the place, but it was a very exclusive kind of club. You had to sign an NDA just to get through the door, even as a guest. Colin either knew or assumed that she wouldn’t say no to an invitation.

  They’d known each other for years, and for years he’d been flirty and charming and he’d asked her out at least a half dozen times. When she’d been seeing someone she’d had a convenient excuse to say no. Then, after the break-up, that was reason enough to hold him off for a while longer. Lately, he’d been more insistent and she’d been in a dry spell, so when he’d asked again, playing the ace up his sleeve, she’d figured, "why not?"

  Then she remembered. Colin was blond and blue-eyed and handsome in a ken doll sort of way. He was overly groomed, and more than a little flashy, and not really her type. Maybe she didn’t have a type, or maybe she’d been wrong about what it was, considering all her previous relationships had been lackluster, at best. Although, since she’d met a certain someone, she thought maybe her type was strong and silent with perpetual scruff and soulful hazel eyes.

  Amanda snorted to herself. Parker Hanson might be her type, but she apparently wasn’t his. Which was part of what made this little coincidence even more embarrassing. Here she was, trying to find some kind of fulfillment in her personal life and the only man she’d wanted in years, a man who had zero interest in her, was standing there literally looking down on her. Talk about a blow to the ego.

  Amanda excused herself as gracefully as possible and went looking for the bathroom, trying not to appear as though she was looking for a place to hide, even though that was precisely what she was doing.

  She told herself she was overreacting, that it wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t know what was going on in her head, so all she’d have to do is play it cool, act casual, and hopefully, it would only be slightly awkward. As long as she didn’t make it weird, it wouldn’t be a problem. They were acquaintances, nothing more.

  Maybe he hadn’t even recognized her. Maybe she could just tell Colin she wasn’t feeling well, call a cab and slip away without even having to speak to him.

 
; What was he even doing here, anyway? Was he a member? She bit her lip and considered the possibility for a moment. She felt a flush sweep over her chest at the idea, but quickly got a handle on herself. That was not something she needed to be considering at a time like this.

  Whatever he got up to at Elysium, he sure as hell wouldn’t be doing it with her, so there was no point in torturing herself over it.

  As she made her way casually toward the small hallway by stairs where she’d seen a sign for the bathrooms, she spied Ian standing in the corner, scowling at everyone and no one in particular. Being taller than everyone else in the room made him hard to miss and he had a face that was hard to forget.

  One of Connor’s guys being here as a member was plausible, but two of them? At the same time? Very unlikely, especially considering one of them was Ian.

  The man was massive. He could have easily started as a linebacker for any team in the NFL. He was attractive, in a broody, almost frightening sort of way. The angles of his face were sharp, almost severe and his dark hair was cut so close to his head it was practically a buzz cut. His pale green eyes seemed to look right through you.

  And of course, the fact that he hardly ever spoke more than three words at once and looked positively homicidal about ninety percent of the time didn’t make him seem any less intimidating. She definitely couldn’t picture him coming here to mingle.

  No, the only explanation was that they were here for work. An interesting factoid she’d tuck away for later, but unfortunately, it didn’t really help her at the moment.

  Setting her drink down on a nearby table, she pushed open the door to the ladies’ room and heaved a sigh of relief at having found at least a temporary reprieve. She placed both hands on the exquisite marble countertop and leaned against it, taking several deep breaths to calm her nerves and try to get her brain functioning in some sort of meaningful way.

  After a second, she realized she wasn’t alone. A beautiful, dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties had made her way to the vanity and was now touching up her makeup in the gilded mirror above the sink.