Page 59 of Guarding Grace (Hawk Security #2)

Peyton

I turned to the window and watched her reflection in the glass while pretending to study the courtyard outside.

When I saw Serena Benson stop taking pictures and put her phone away, I lifted the flute of sparkling apple cider to my lips and turned back to the festivities. Grace Brennan had been my boss for the last several months, and this was her birthday party turned engagement party.

Grace glowed as only a woman who’d just tonight accepted a marriage proposal could. After what she’d been through with two competing criminal mobs after her, she deserved her happiness.

Terry Goodwin, her fiancé, approached with a bottle of champagne. “Peyton, can I top off your glass?” He was the hulking former Marine sniper who’d saved Grace from the mobs.

“No, thanks.” I pulled my glass away. “I’m my own designated driver.” Atlanta had taught me the hard lesson that alcohol could dull my senses enough to be dangerous.

Terry nodded and moved off to fill other people’s glasses.

I made my way over to Grace. In addition to being my boss, she had become the closest thing to a friend I had since moving to Los Angeles. Her kindness meant the world to me since I was only in touch with one person from my past.

I looked down at the gorgeous ring she’d just received. “Happy birthday and congratulations.”

She glanced at her hand. “Thank you. I’m glad you could make it.”

“Free food? You couldn’t keep me away.” It was only partly a joke.

She fiddled with the diamond ring. “This is all a bit overwhelming. Such a surprise.”

“He loves you. I’d kill for a man like him.” That was both true and a lie. A man was a luxury I absolutely couldn’t afford in my situation.

A dreamy look overcame her for a moment. “Yeah. He’s pretty great.” Cocking her head to the side, she added, “You know, Zane’s not so bad.”

I coughed. “Not in the market, remember?”

Not going there. No men was one of my rules—rules meant to keep me safe. Besides, Zane March asked too many questions. I sensed Zane, the insanely hot man, was dangerous in more ways than one. As Mr. March, I could keep the private security specialist, at a safe distance.

“You said?—”

“I meant someday. Not today.”

She shrugged. “You sound like me last month.”

I hadn’t been in town long enough to know the whole story, but everybody said Terry and Grace being together was a miracle. They had been at each other’s throats for years before the attacks that threw them together.

“You have to join us when we move this to Tito’s,” Grace added after a moment.

“I don’t know,” I hedged. “It’s getting late.”

“Please?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure.” How could I say no to the birthday girl?

“We can give you a ride home at the end of the night.”

She and Terry were truly good people.

“I’ll be fine. It’s not raining or anything.” I’d ridden my trusty e-bike, Trigger, to get here. It was the only conveyance I’d allowed myself after my last move. It didn’t require any paperwork.

“Biking at night is not the safest thing,” she countered.

“I’ll take you up on that if it starts raining,” I answered.

Terry came up behind her. “Stop bugging her about riding her bike.” He wrapped his arms around his fiancée. The two were so clearly in love, I expected to see tiny hearts circling their heads.

“I was offering, not bugging,” Grace clarified.

A short while later, they announced the move from the restaurant to the bar for pool, darts, and, undoubtedly, more drinks.

When I exited the restaurant, March popped open the back of his Porsche Cayenne SUV. “I’ll give you a lift.”

I unlocked my trusty e-bike. “No thanks. I’ll ride and meet you over there.” He was a temptation I needed to avoid, and the bar was only five blocks away.

“Come on, Peyton, live on the wild side for once.”

His attempts at flirtation were cute. But I still needed to resist the attraction.

“It’s not that dark yet.”

“Okay,” he practically sighed. “I’ll see you over there.”

Taking in his dejected look, I almost changed my mind and accepted his offer.

Almost.

Zane

I closed the back of my company Porsche Cayenne Turbo GT.

Peyton’s response to my offer had been predictable, and disappointing. She was quite the challenge.

Tall and blonde, with curves to die for, I’d noticed her the very first time I’d been stationed at Grace’s company, SpaceMasters, as security.

After talking with Peyton, I’d learned she was much more than a pretty face.

She had a humble intelligence, a presence, a visceral allure I couldn’t describe.

She was also nervously observant. At first, I’d guessed she’d been posted overseas at some point. Her relentless attention seemed somewhat like my compulsion to check out the street before entering here.

When I’d asked, she changed the subject without an answer—something she did with ease. Agency spook came to mind. Whatever it was, I’d figure it out, eventually.

Unfortunately, whenever I tried to engage her, she gave me the cold shoulder, but SEALs like me knew how to be persistent. Some battles took time to win.

She started off on her e-bike.

I let her get ahead and then followed slowly.

With the electric assist, she whizzed along the street fast enough that I didn’t have to pull over to stay behind her. She was already locking up her bike when I pulled into the lot to park. It was a busy night at the bar, and I had to park at the far end.

Being called Tito’s, I’d imagined the bar to be something along the lines of a pizza joint, but the word saloon flanked by two old wagon wheels said cowboy more than pizza.

After several tours overseas, it was ingrained in me to stop at the door and check out the neighborhood. Even though I was stateside, gauging potential exit routes, along with possible shooting or surveillance positions for the enemy, was a hard habit to break.

Knock on wood. I rapped a knuckle on the doorjamb for good luck as I pushed inside.

Nope. Not pizza or Italian in any way. The space was enormous, with sawdust on the floor. The dance floor was populated, but not crowded. Pool tables lined the back, and as I moved in farther, looking for our group, I spied a mechanical bull that looked like it might be fun to try.

Locating our party by the pool tables, I started that way.

Vigilant Peyton was the first to notice me. It made me feel good to see the initial smile she quickly hid when I approached. Yup, as much as she insisted on fighting it, I stood a chance with her.

I’d only recently joined Hawk Security, but they had welcomed me with open arms. Much of my work gang was here this evening and had split into pairs at the pool tables.

Winston Evers, the big ex-FBI agent, was playing against short Constance Collier, formerly of the Secret Service, who had once been on the First Lady’s protective detail. Winston had warned me to not cross her, or I’d end up on my back in the blink of an eye.

Lucas Hawk, our leader, had the dark eyes of a stone-cold killer.

Foreign graveyards were littered with men who’d underestimated him.

Even the toughest SEALs spoke his name in awe.

He looked to be clearing the table against his brother, Jordan Hawk.

Jordy was our tech genius, who Duke had told me could hack pretty much any system we ran up against. He hadn’t followed Lucas into the Army, but I’d watched the two grapple once in the gym and Jordy was no slouch.

On the next table over, Duke Hawk was losing to his fiancée, Serena, and did not seem happy about it.

Beyond them, Joe Castro, our mechanic, was squaring off against Lt. Marcus Wellbourne, our best friend in the LAPD.

Looking on, Terry had his arm around Grace, and Grace’s brother, Pete, who’d just arrived back stateside after being rescued from some Syrian hellhole, stood next to Terry. An hour ago, he’d tried to strangle Terry for daring to date his sister, but now they were best buds again—go figure.

Peyton walked behind them to stand next to Pete.

It was a nice try, but that wouldn’t work on me. I altered my path. “You sure move fast with that electric boost.”

Peyton ignored me and turned to Pete. “Would you like to play a game?”

“Not yet,” he said.

I tapped her on the shoulder. “I’ll take that challenge.” Would she be classy and feel obligated to accept, or be a bitch and decline?

With a sigh, she accepted. “Okay.” Classy won out.

“I challenge the winner,” Pete said.

So he wasn’t staying out of the action entirely.

I pointed to an empty table. “After you.” Following her not only gave me a better view of how she filled out those jeans, but I enjoyed the strawberry scent that trailed her.

She selected a cue. “Prepare to be destroyed.”

I brushed her arm as I grabbed a cue myself. “You can destroy me all night long.”

She gave a labored sigh and threw the triangle on the felt. “Has that line ever worked for you?”

I rolled balls toward her for the rack. “Not the first two times, but I’m betting the third time’s the charm.”

She laughed. “Don’t give up your day job for professional betting.” She set up the balls.

“Can you handle a little action?”

“I’d rather not.”

I slapped down a twenty. “You’re the one who claimed you’d destroy me, remember?”

She shook her head. “Maybe I should have stayed quiet.”

I tapped the bill. “Maybe.”

Reluctantly, she pulled a ten and two fives out.

“If you’re so confident, should we make it fifty.”

She shook her head. “That’s all I have on me.”

“Okay. I look forward to being destroyed.”

“You want bigger stakes?” She leaned against the table. “If I win, you agree to stop propositioning me.”

“For tonight,” I amended. “And as a gentleman, I’ll let you take the break.”

She walked the long way around to the end of the table. “I didn’t say you weren’t a gentleman. It’s your corny pickup lines I can’t handle.” She leaned over the table to prepare her shot.

I moved left to get an even better view of her cleavage. “And if I win, you let me take you to dinner.”

She paused. “Lunch.”

“Dinner or two lunches,” I countered.