Page 6 of Protected By The Ranger (The Men of Ghost Security #1)

IZZY

I wake to the acrid smell of smoke and the piercing shriek of the smoke alarm. For a disorienting moment, I think I’m back in my LA apartment and my stalker is breaking in, but then I see the faded purple curtains and reality crashes back.

Jake. Last night. I’m in Jefferson, at my brother’s house.

Heat floods my cheeks as memories surface—his hands on my skin, the way he looked at me like I was everything he’d ever wanted, the sound of my name on his lips when we made love.

My body still aches in the most delicious way, every movement a reminder of how thoroughly he claimed me.

He made me come more powerfully than I ever have before.

It was like he knew exactly what I wanted.

The smoke alarm continues its angry protest, followed by the sound of Jake cursing creatively in the kitchen. I grab my hoodie and zip it up, then pad barefoot down the hallway, wrinkling my nose as the smoke gets stronger by the kitchen.

Jake is standing in the middle of the kitchen, waving a dish towel at the smoke detector while what appears to be the charred remains of breakfast sit abandoned on the stove. His hair is mussed, he’s shirtless except for his jeans riding low on his hips, and he looks sheepish.

“Need help?” I lean against the doorway to the kitchen, unable to keep the smile out of my voice.

He turns at the sound of my voice, and the way his green eyes heat when they take in my appearance makes my knees weak. The hoodie barely covers my core, and I’m very aware that I’m not wearing anything underneath.

“So much for impressing you with my cooking skills,” he says, finally managing to silence the alarm.

I step closer, close enough to trace the defined muscles of his abs with one finger. “I think you impressed me plenty last night.”

His hands capture my waist, pulling me flush against him. “Did I?”

“Mmm.” I rise on my toes to brush my lips against his. “Though I might need a reminder.”

He groans softly, his mouth moving over mine with lazy thoroughness. “Coffee first. Then I’ll remind you as many times as you want.”

“Deal.”

He makes coffee while I salvage what I can of breakfast, and there’s something achingly domestic about the whole scene. For the first time in months, I feel safe and like I can breathe easy.

“So what’s the plan for today?” I ask, settling into a chair with my mug.

“Stay close to the house. Blake should have more intel by now, and—”

My phone pings with an Instagram notification, and I pick it up automatically.

The message is from an account I don’t recognize, and a rush of fear overwhelms me.

It’s a photo of me walking into Jefferson High School yesterday. Alone.

The caption reads: Visiting old friends? I like how you look when you think no one’s watching.

The mug slips from my fingers. Coffee splashes across the kitchen table, and the mug bounces to the floor and shatters. Jake is beside me in an instant, his hand on my back as he reads the message over my shoulder.

“Fuck.” The word comes out flat, deadly. “This is exactly why I should know where you are at all times. This is also why I wanted you to give up your phone. Somehow, he’s able to track you. Godammit.”

The possessive edge in his voice, the way he immediately jumps to controlling my movements, makes my chest tight with panic. “Jake—”

“He was there, Izzy. He was watching you, photographing you, and I wasn’t there to stop him.” His hand runs through his hair, messing it further. “What if he’d approached you? What if he’d followed you back here? What if he went after you at the school, before I found you?”

The concern and urgency in his voice is genuine, but it also makes me angry at the situation. “So…what? I’m supposed to become a prisoner in my own life?”

“You’re supposed to stay safe until my team and I can deal with this.”

“And what about the benefit concert I want to do for my old school? What about Mrs. Henderson’s program?” My voice rises despite my efforts to stay calm. “Do I have to give up my career? Everything that’s just starting for me?”

Jake’s expression softens slightly, but his determination doesn’t waver. “We’ll figure it out. But right now, we need to keep you secure while I handle this. I need to call my team.”

Jake heads out to the front yard, clearly not wanting me to hear what he has to say. I watch as he paces, gesticulating wildly with one of his arms. The only thing I can hear is him yell, “No, now!”

Another wave of realization about my situation rolls over me.

I know I’ve gone in and out of realizing the severity of what’s happening, but watching Jake—who is an ex-Ranger and works in private security—freak out about this?

It makes me realize how badly I’ve been minimizing how serious this all is.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath as he comes back inside. “The team is putting full resources on tracking this guy. I’m going to head in to run point on this, but I need to make sure you’re safe.”

“Jake, I’ll be fine. You don’t have to take me with you. I promise I won’t go out again.”

The look Jake gives me nearly stops my heart. It’s mix of concern and exasperation. “Izzy. You know I can’t do that. You need someone here who can do what you can’t. Which is why I called your brother.”

I look at Jake, confused. “But he’s in the hospital.”

My phone rings and Hayden’s name flashes on the screen.

“Answer it,” Jake says, his voice gentle but firm. “Put it on speaker.”

“Hey, Hayden.”

“Izzy.” My brother’s voice is tight with controlled anger. “Jake filled me in on what’s happening. I’m taking a little field trip. I’m in a taxi now.”

“You don’t need to—”

“Like hell I don’t. Someone’s threatening my sister.” The steel in his voice reminds me of the Ranger he used to be before the IED nearly killed him. “I’ll be there soon.”

The line goes dead, leaving Jake and me staring at each other across the kitchen table. The joy I felt when I woke up this morning is a distant memory as I watch Jake pick up his clothes and get dressed.

“Hayden should stay at the hospital,” I start to say, but Jake shakes his head.

“He’s right to come home. You need protection, and I can’t be everywhere at once. There’s no one I trust more to protect you than him.”

True to his word, Hayden arrives shortly after his call. I hear the taxi in the driveway before Jake does, the sharp crunch of gravel under tires.

“Anyone coming through that door is going to have to deal with me first,” Hayden announces, going to the closet and getting his shotgun and a box of cartridges before settling into the chair that gives him the best view of the front entrance. He places his shotgun across his lap.

“Isn’t this a little much?” I ask, staring at the weapon that looks enormous in the confines of his living room.

“For anyone who threatens my sister? This is exactly enough.” There is no humor in my brother’s voice, and I realize he’s not joking around. “If my leg wasn’t lame, I’d be right alongside Jake when he takes out the motherfucker who’s been harassing you.”

Jake nods and grabs his jacket. “This ends today.”

The quiet certainty in his voice makes my stomach clench with fear. Not fear of my stalker, but fear of what Jake will do to him. His expression holds a cold determination that reminds me he’s capable of violence when necessary.

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means,” Jake says, checking his weapon and holstering it, “this man is going to understand that continuing to harass you would be a very poor life choice.”

“And if he doesn’t understand?”

Jake’s green eyes meet mine, and what I see there makes my breath catch. “He’ll understand.”

The implications hang heavy in the air. I want to protest, to insist that violence isn’t the answer, but the photo on my phone is a stark reminder that this man has crossed every reasonable boundary. He’s not going to stop because we ask nicely.

“How long will you be gone?”

“As long as it takes.” Jake crosses to where I’m sitting, crouching down so we’re eye level. His hands frame my face with devastating gentleness. “I need you to stay here with Hayden. No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, you don’t leave this house.”

“Jake—”

“Promise me.” The command in his voice cuts through my protests. “I can’t do what I need to do if I’m worried about you running off again. And Hayden can’t chase you. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will. I promise.”

I watch him gather his equipment, check his weapon one final time, and head for the door. The sound of his SUV starting up feels like the beginning of something I can’t take back.

“He’ll be fine,” Hayden says quietly from his position by the window. “Jake knows what he’s doing.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”