Page 3 of Wrecked (McIntyre Security Bodyguard #16)

My heart stutters the moment this redheaded kid with a manbun walks through the door. I know immediately who he is. Sam Harrison, twenty-six years old, tall, with a slender, muscular build. And based on the way he’s checking me out, I bet he’s gay.

According to his resumé, he’s a former Army Ranger who was given an honorable medical discharge after a parachute accident that resulted in numerous fractures, including both his legs. But looking at him right now, you’d never guess he’d sustained such serious injuries.

He’s interviewing for a bodyguard position. If he’s hired, that means he’ll most likely be living in my apartment building. And that means I’ll be running into him from time to time.

Fuck.

Standing just inside the door, he quickly scans the room. I’m sure he’s already catalogued everyone in this room, as well as all the doors and exits. It’s ingrained in us former military. When he finally makes eye contact with me, I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut.

For a moment, he stares at me, our gazes locked in some act of mutual awareness.

Yeah, I’m lookin’ at you, hotshot.

Hell, he’s young enough to be my kid. It’s a good thing I’m okay with age gaps.

As he walks toward me, I watch his loose-hipped swagger, cocky as all get out. His manbun isn’t regulation, but it sure as hell works for him—and for me. Because right now, all I can think about is taking it down and wrapping those long strands around my palm.

“You must be Sam,” I say, scanning him from head to toe.

For a moment, he stares at me, and that’s what gives him away. If he was straight, he wouldn’t be staring at me like he wants me to bend him over the nearest table.

I try again. “Sam?”

He blinks as if coming out of a trance. “Yes, sir. I mean, Mr. Cooper. I’m Sam Harrison.”

Sir? Yeah, kid, you’d better call me sir. Yes, sir. Please, sir. Harder, sir.

“Cooper’s fine. What’s in the duffle?”

“A change of clothes for the fitness assessment.”

“Did you bring your weapon?”

He nods. “My Beretta. In my ankle holster.”

“Sounds good. Shall we get started?”

“Yes, sir.”

I smile. The kid just can’t help himself.

I need to get my head on straight. This is work, damn it! He’s a potential new hire, and I have no fucking business eyeing him like he’s someone I just tapped on Grindr. But man, if I met him somewhere else—damn it!

I walk back over to the check-in counter and busy myself by grabbing the stuff we’ll need for his assessment—namely, ammo, paper targets, and ear protection. “You ready?”

Sam nods. “Lead the way.”

After I grab our supplies, we head to the soundproof door that leads to the indoor shooting gallery.

Before we walk through, I hand him his ear protection, and he slips it on.

I do the same with mine. Then we walk through the doors.

The range consists of half a dozen stalls.

Two of them are currently occupied by employees here for their required monthly practice.

I follow Sam as he walks all the way to the far stall. While he retracts the target holder, I set down the box of ammo and grab one of the paper targets tucked under my arm and unroll it. It’s a standard size paper target featuring the outline of a human torso.

Sam takes the target from me, clips it to the holder, and sends it out.

I motion for him to begin. “Show me what you got!” I have to shout to be heard over the deafening crack of gunshots down at the other end of the range.

“Where do you want them?” he yells back.

“Center chest!”

Sam nods, steps forward, grips his handgun, and aims. He gets off three shots in as many seconds, every one of them hitting dead center.

Damn.

The kid’s a phenomenal shot.

He retrieves the target, clips on a fresh one, and sends it out to the fifty-yard mark. Then he aims and fires.

When he retracts the target, I find myself staring at a neat cluster pattern in the chest area and a single shot between the target’s eyes.

“Show-off!” I say, smiling at the pleased grin on his face. On impulse, I lean in close, lift one of his ear muffs, and ask him, “Have you ever kissed a man?” He’s gay. He has to be. Life couldn’t be that cruel to send me such a pretty boy and put him out of my grasp.

Sam’s brown eyes flash hot as his Adam’s apple bobs sharply. “Yes.”

No hemming or hawing. Just a straight up, ballsy answer. That’s such a turn-on. I’m practically euphoric to discover I was right about him. “Did you like it?”

His eyes remain locked on mine. “Yes.”

God, I want to kiss him so badly, and based on the way he’s staring at my mouth, I don’t think he’d mind. We’re at the far end of the range. No one can see us. Not a damn soul.

I take a step closer, essentially trapping him against the metal wall of our stall.

We’re nearly the same height. I have maybe an inch on him. He’s still meeting my gaze, eye-to-eye, and my dick is so hard it hurts.

I have never wanted someone so badly in my life.

And I’m fucked because I have a hard and fast rule about sleeping with coworkers.

I don’t do it. Not ever. No one at McIntyre Security knows I’m gay.

Well, except for Shane and his family. And now, apparently, this guy.

It was stupid of me to out myself to him like this.

I don’t know him from Adam. I don’t know if I can trust him. Not like I know I can trust Shane.

Shane and I met and served together in the Marines.

And when we got out, we went into business together, forming McIntyre Security.

He knows everything about me—well, almost everything.

There are some things about my past I can’t share with anyone.

My sexuality is no one’s business but mine. Period.

This was a mistake.

I back away.

Sam frowns as he checks his watch. “I’m due back at the office for a fitness assessment at eleven.”

I nod, already regretting that I’ll never have the chance to touch this guy—never taste him—never make him come until he can’t see straight. “I’ll drive you.” The words pop out of me.

Sam’s eyes widen in surprise. “Okay. If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

“I’ve got business in the office to take care of,” I say, making up an excuse. It’s not true, of course. I’m just not ready for this guy to walk out the door. Not when I’ll probably never see him again except maybe at the annual company picnic. And even then I’ll have to ignore him.

Sam follows me out of the building to the black Escalade parked outside. Without a word, he climbs up into the front passenger seat, and I get behind the wheel. Neither one of us says a word as I pull out of my parking spot and head downtown.

I keep my eyes glued to the road. I could kick myself for asking him if he’d ever kissed a man. I just revealed more about myself to him than I have to anyone.

* * *

When we arrive at the office, I pull into the underground garage and park in my assigned spot. We step into the elevator together, just the two of us. The tension is so thick it’s choking me.

I really fucked up. I want him, and he knows it.

I glance over to find him staring straight ahead at the elevator doors as they close. He’s making a point of not looking at me. Not acknowledging me. I reach past him to press a button. “The martial arts studio is on the third floor. Walk straight ahead, through the glass doors, and ask for Liam.”

“Thanks.” Finally, he looks at me. “Will I see you again? I mean today. As part of the interview process.”

“No. We’re done.”

His gaze returns to the elevator doors. “Did I pass?”

That question can be taken in more than one way.

Did I pass the shooting assessment? Yes.

Did I pass your test? Yes.

I spare a quick glance at him. “Yeah, you passed.”

When the elevator stops, Sam gets off. He turns back to look at me, but says nothing.

There’s nothing to say.

My part in his interview process is over.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he says as the doors slide shut.

That’s what I’m afraid of.

“Maybe.”

I continue up to the twentieth floor, to Shane’s office. As the elevator doors open on his floor, he’s waiting right there.

Shane steps into the car with me. “Ah, just the person I wanted to see. How’d he do?”

“Who?”

“Sam Harrison. Who else? Did he earn your seal of approval?”

I can feel my neck heating. “He’s a fine shot, if that’s what you mean.”

Shane gives me an odd look. “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing.”

Shane presses the button for the third floor. “I’m heading down to the martial arts studio to observe Sam’s hand-to-hand capabilities. Join me.”

“I really don’t have time, Shane. I need to get back to the shooting range.”

“Then why did you come all the way over here if you can’t stay a while?”

“The kid needed a ride back.” I shrug.

“Come on, hang around a little while longer. I want your opinion.”

“Mine? Why?”

The elevator doors open, and we step out of the car. Right ahead of us is a large glass viewing window into the martial arts studio. Shane’s youngest brother, Liam, runs the studio. He teaches self-defense to employees and martial arts to the security hires. Liam’s a world-class champion.

Shane plants himself in front of the viewing window. Reluctantly, I join him.

At first, I see only Liam stretching on the mat, warming up. Sam’s nowhere in sight. But a moment later, Sam walks out of the men’s locker room dressed in a pair of form-fitting black workout shorts and a loose, white muscle shirt. He’s barefoot, but his feet are taped.

If I thought he was hot before, now he’s on fire.

His arms are leanly muscled, his biceps sleek and firm.

His thighs are muscled too, and his ass—fuck!

I instantly picture him on his hands and knees on my bed, his ass in the air.

Or bent over the back of my sofa. Or in any dozen other positions, just waiting for me to fuck him.

Jesus, I don’t even know if he bottoms. He’d have to if we—

Stop it. He’s off limits.

At first, Liam has Sam go through a series of timed exercises—sit-ups, push-ups, pull-ups on an overhead bar. Apparently, Sam passes that test because Liam motions for him to get on the mat with him.

Shane’s attention is locked on Liam and Sam as they circle each other. “You know, he broke both legs in a parachute malfunction.”

“I know. I read his resume.”

“He suffered some pretty extensive injuries. I need to know he can hold his own in a physical confrontation.”

Liam makes a sudden move on Sam, and Sam sidesteps him easily. The two of them resume circling each other.

One of them makes a move, and the other one counters it.

“They seem pretty well matched,” I say.

Shane shakes his head. “Liam’s going easy on him. Still, I’m impressed. Cooper, what do you think?”

He’s looking right at me, expecting an answer. “Sure.” I shrug. “I guess he’s okay.”

Shane frowns. “You don’t sound too enthused. What’s wrong with him?” And then his blue eyes widen. “Oh, my God. Seriously?”

“What?” I try not to sound defensive when that’s exactly what I am.

“Are you into this guy?” Shane looks back into the studio, just as Sam and Liam start grappling with each other.

Sam’s holding his own just fine.

“So, I take it he’s gay?” Shane asks. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure.”

“No, Cooper! Absolutely not. You cannot get with this guy.”

“You know I don’t mix work with pleasure.”

“I mean it, Cooper. No.”

“Trust me, Shane. You don’t have to tell me twice.”