Page 13 of Ruthless Guardian

There he went with that again, and her stupid heart seemed to stutter in her chest. This man was no knight in shining armor, she was sure of that. But she still couldn’t help believing him when he said it.

They walked inside the building and there was a small room with a man sitting at a tall desk, almost like you’d see in a hotel. He nodded at Brogan.

“Welcome back,” he said. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Brogan replied shortly. He stepped up to the desk and placed his gun on the surface. Then, Amy watched as he pulled out two more from ankle holsters. Then, a switchblade from his pocket. Finally, he pulled out a dagger from a shoulder sheath hidden by his jacket.

Amy gaped at him. Why in the hell would a man need that many weapons?

Then, she thought about the men at the house. They’d all been armed and dangerous. Brogan had to be helping her because they were his enemy. She wasn’t sure what the nature of the animosity between them was, but she supposed it made sense that he’d need to have a lot of weapons to go against men like that.

Or maybe her brain was just too fried to properly freak out about all the weapons at this point.

When the man behind the desk turned his attention to her, Brogan shook his head. “She’s clean.”

It was true. Hell, it was a miracle she even had her purse with her after what happened back at her apartment building. A weapon? Nope.

She probably should have been armed, though. Were people going to keep coming after her? How the hell was she going to get out of this situation?

Brogan placed a hand on her arm, and she realized she’d spaced out as her thoughts spiraled. He didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he just led her to an open doorway on the other side of the small room. When they stepped through, she gasped.

He was right, it was a jazz club, but when they converted it, they left a lot of the architectural elements of an old church. Vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows, and a huge pipe organ on the far side of the large space.

“They don’t use that,” Brogan said, following her gaze. “But I guess they thought it was fitting decor.”

They were right. There was something so fascinating about the mix of old and new in this space. There was a rounded bar with a marble top that ran almost the whole length of the room on one side, and on the other there was a stage where a three-piece band was playing jazz music. In between were tables and booths. Scones on the wall provided most of the light, but there were also tiny lamps on all of the tables.

It seemed like a classy little club, but she couldn’t help wondering if everyone here was a criminal of some kind. Why else would they be in a place called a natural zone?

There were about a dozen people here, so it didn’t seem like a particularly busy night. But it was still kind of early for a club, barely ten o’clock.

God, it felt so much later to her.

Brogan led her to a booth in the corner of the room, and she felt a little better with her back to the wall. She could also see the entrance and a back exit from here, and she wondered if Brogan picked this spot for that reason.

A waitress in a mini skirt came over and Brogan surprised her by ordering a club soda. She went with a glass of wine, hoping it would calm her nerves a little. Amy arched her eyebrow at him as the waitress walked away, asking a question without saying a word.

“I need to stay sharp,” he said.

“I thought you said it was safe.”

“It is, unless someone wants to risk breaking the rules. It’d be a stupid mistake, the kind that ends with your body being fished out of the river.”

She could feel the blood leave her face as he talked about murder so casually.

“I don’t think there’s real danger here,” he continued. “But I’m the kind of man that’s always alert. Letting an enemy sneak up on you is the worst mistake you can make.”

“Who are you?” she asked once again, and she could tell by the ticking of the muscle in his jaw that he understood she was asking for more than his name.

“I’m part of an organization that considers the men that abducted you to be enemies.”

Organization?She thought back to the police station when the officer had asked her which mafia she was reporting on. There must be more than one.

“Are you talking about a rival mafia?” she asked.

He certainly had the right vibe for that. It should have scared her, but she found herself trusting Brogan more with each second that passed. She couldn’t really explain it. There was something in his eyes that told her he wasn’t the bad guy. She couldn’t say that anyone else would feel the same.

He shrugged instead of answering her question, and she rolled her eyes. It was a little late to be cagey about it. She’d seen too much today.