Big Hard Bodyguard (Dominant Protectors Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  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

  End Note

  Big Hard Bodyguard

  Dominant Protectors Book One

  Jack Ellison

  Copyright © 2017

  Hi, I’m Jack, and I’m a guy that writes romance. This is my debut novel, and I really hope you liked it! If you have any feedback, suggestions, or just want to chat, you can email me anytime here: [email protected]

  Or connect with me on Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/JEllisonRomance/

  If you want to keep up to date with my writing, get access to Freebies, special offers, and more, then sign up for my mailing list here: http://eepurl.com/cYKg9v

  I’m looking forward to sharing all of my dirtiest thoughts with you all! I write about Bad Boys and the women they fall in love with, and all of my books are guaranteed to keep you up past your bedtime ;)

  I’m already hard at work on the next book in the Dominant Protectors series, so keep an eye on your email inbox for more information and teasers soon!

  Jack x x x

  Table of Contents

  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

  End Note

  Chapter One

  Chloe

  “For the last time, Chloe, it’s not going to happen. Please, just drop it so we can eat in peace. I’ve had a godawful day, and I just want to drink this wine, eat some junk food, and slump in front of the TV.”

  I clenched my fists under the table and glared at him intently, frowning slightly. It’s one of my favourite looks, practiced in the mirror to perfection. Normally it’s quite effective, but today he was having none of it.

  “Don’t even try it, sweetheart. I’ve had enough bullshit at work that it’s just not gonna work on me today. I said no, I meant no, that’s the end of it.”

  I sighed, somewhat defeatedly. But I wasn’t ready to give up just yet on what had so far been a week long argument, played out in small one or two hourly episodes every evening.

  “Dad, I know you don’t like it but I’m not a little girl anymore. All I can see on Instagram are pics of my friends all over the world, and believe me there isn’t a chaperone in sight in any of them. Cocktail bars, pool parties, gorgeous hotels...just young people having fun with no dangerous people nearby!”

  I raised my dainty, recently manicured eyebrows and pouted slightly. If this was some random guy I’d just lean forward slightly further than required, showing a hint of cleavage and the suggestion of the large breasts beneath… and the argument would be won there and then.

  My Dad looked up from his large glass of wine wistfully, looking almost annoyed that I was distracting him from it.

  “Yes, you can’t see the ‘chaperones’ because they’re damn good at staying out of sight! That’s why the good ones cost so damn much! I’m not insisting on this just because I think you’re some special little snowflake, believe me. I have my reasons.”

  And here we come to the brick wall again, I thought to myself. We would skirt around why I needed protection without my Dad ever actually answering the question.

  “So why do I need a bodyguard then?” I queried. If my Psychology degree had taught me anything at all about body language (which it had, I’d graduated Summa Cum Laude and finished top of my graduating year) it was that my Dad would not be swayed. I didn’t give anything away, but was nearing the end of my patience with the argument and was almost ready to fold.

  I’ll make it worth my while when I do though, that’s for damn sure!

  He sighed and tore his attention away from the TV for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “You know I can’t explain, I’ve told you that. I’ve signed confidentiality agreements that would put me in jail if I even told you what sort of fucking paper they were written on.”

  He paused to half drain his glass of wine.

  Not sure that’s how you’re supposed to drink a $300 bottle of red wine, Dad...

  “Look, I’ll tell you what. Let’s make a deal, you and I.”

  He sat up into what I called his “business mode”, serious face, slightly raised head and shoulders back, hands crossed in front of him.

  “I’ll tell you what I can, which would still get me in trouble. But I could probably talk my way out of it. On the condition that you will agree to my terms.”

  He smiled.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. As a sweetener, I’ll cover all your travel expenses. Not just the flights and accommodation.”

  I sat up, eyes widening. This was more to my liking. My Dad was a very rich man, but the money he had put aside for me when I was younger was held in trust in the form of shares in his company, but I couldn’t spend a penny of it until the trust matured in just under two year’s time. And I wanted to go on vacation now.

  “Oh, and what’s caused the sudden turn of generosity, Daddy? Did someone slip something in your wine?”

  He gave me a sympathetic half-laugh.

  “No, Chloe. My company’s share price has risen...rather considerably in the last few days, what with the positive media reaction over the completion of our last contract. Which was front page news, I hasten to add. Oh and the companies are now queuing up to get us to sign more software development contracts, following the news article.”

  My Dad still referred to the company as “his”, even though he’d sold the majority stake to a large multinational software and hardware development conglomerate when I was young. The share price had risen sharply, making us billionaires on paper, almost overnight. We were even richer now, it seemed. Not much of that mattered to me though, at least not until my shares matured and I’d have more money than I could ever spend.

  At the moment though, I just wanted to enjoy the last few years of my early twenties before I had to worry about buying a house, kids or any of the burdens that would come with either. And by fun I meant luxury travel; partying, sightseeing.

  And sex. Not necessarily lots of it, just good sex from a man who knows what he’s doing, not like the small handful I’d experienced casually at college...small being the operative word..

  “Deal?” he barked, bringing me out of my daydream.

  This is it, then. Time to concede defeat on favourable terms.

  “Ok Daddy. If it really means that much to you I’ll let you hire someone to look after me. As long as they don’t get in the way, cramp my style or cockblock me.” My dad winced. Poor choice of words, maybe. “Well, you know what I mean. I am 22 now you know.”

  “I know. Anyway, here’s what I can tell you.”

  He leant forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “You know I manage softwar
e development of one part of the company, right? The position I was given when I returned to work, after your mom… well after she passed away. Let’s just say that I manage the development of software that either helps kill people, or helps to stop people from being killed. And not just for companies - armed forces and governments too. And there’s lots of nasty bastards out there who would do anything to get their hands on it.”

  He leant back in his chair, his gaze distant for a second. He rarely spoke about Mom. She had died after a brave but short battle with an aggressive form of cancer when I was three. My Dad had later told me that he had sold the majority of his company at the time of her diagnosis so he could be there to support her and to look after me. I could tell that he still wasn't over her death and would probably never be. And his loss made him even more protective of me, which was touching but could be very smothering at times.

  “Anyway,” he continued after a brief pause, “I’ve already told you more than I’ve ever told anyone outside of work about what I do. But hopefully you understand that I’m not just being an overprotective old bastard. I want you to have fun and do your own thing, but I want someone there...just in case, y’know?”

  “I know,” I said, as sympathetically as I could manage, even as the excitement started to build up. After almost two years of planning and replanning, chatting about the details with friends and a week of arguing with my Dad, I was finally going to go travelling! And with my Dad covering my expenses, travel and hotel, it was going to be travelling in sublime style and luxury. None of that slumming it with the dirty backpackers, getting fleas or crabs or whatever you’d get living in a hostel, sleeping with the other unwashed travellers. No, for me it would be First or Business Class, the best Hotels and nicest of restaurants…and clean, wealthy handsome...and hopefully well-endowed...men.

  Hey, a girl can dream, right?

  Chapter Two

  Axel

  I looked up from my whiskey glass, my cold blue eyes fixing the older businessman sitting opposite me with an intent stare.

  “How much?” I said softly, in a deep monotone.

  “You heard me. Listen, I’ve had a look at your previous work and spoken to your...references. I know this isn’t the type of contract you usually take. And I may be being damned paranoid, but I can’t shake the feeling that the risk is greater than you or anyone else suspects.”

  “Right. So this isn’t simple babysitting, knocking some sense into some over friendly jocks. I know, Andrew.”

  As I spoke, I saw my potential future employer visibly flinch.

  “How the fuck?” The older, and now very worried, man leant forward, his hand reaching for the panic button under his desk. “I never told you my name, did I?”

  I leaned back, trying to relax my muscular frame into as non-intimidating a position as was possible when you’re 6’ 5” and 260 lbs.

  “You don’t need to press that. I’m on your side. Plus, your name is on that certificate over there.”

  I gestured with my glass towards the faded, yellowing certificate on the far wall, a good 10 feet away. If I was to be completely honest (which I never was, especially when trying to impress or intimidate), my eyes weren’t that good. I had heard of the heat this guy was facing through some old contacts. The sort of contacts you needed when you were an ex-vigilante slash criminal turned gun for hire, mercenary, bodyguard… hell, I’d do a fucking dog protection service if the money was right.

  I’d even managed to find out his address, name, and a good idea of what his pretty daughter looked like from squinting at her almost-private social media pages.

  Damn, from what I could see she was about an 8. Maybe a 9 after a few drinks. If only I was a few years younger… Nah Axel, you know what happens when you get involved with women… trouble. Strictly professional on this one. Plus she’s probably way out of your league..

  “Truth is, Andrew. I’m good. I’m really fucking good. That’s why I’m expensive, right?” I took another gulp of whiskey.

  Jesus, this is nice stuff. If this is what he has in his office, offering it to muscled, scarred thugs, I wonder what he keeps in his private collection? Probably fucking gold plated bottles.”

  I leaned forward on my elbows, my t-shirt barely managing to contain my bulging biceps and chest muscles. I raised my left eyebrow, knowing it would accentuate the scar running from just above to just below it. I knew I looked mean. Mean and hard as fucking nails.

  “I know the heat you been gettin’. I know the type of hardcore criminals who want in on what you develop, right? And these guys don’t fuck around. Good thing is, neither do I. Shoot first, ask questions later. And I ain’t bad in a fistfight either. And when I say I ain’t bad, I mean I ain’t never found no one who can beat me.”

  I drained my whiskey. Andrew poured me another, his gaze not lifting from my face. I had his full attention. I knew he was impressed, intimidated or slightly jealous. Probably all three.

  “Thanks.” I raised the glass. “Last one for me. I drink more than three, bad shit seems to happen. Even if I ain’t looking for it!”

  I took a smaller gulp and continued my sales pitch. Not that it was needed. I just enjoy attention. Especially the attention this guy’s dolled up secretary with the nice butt and tight top gave me in the waiting room. I wasn’t looking at her, but I knew she kept looking at me.

  “So, let me backtrack some. I took the liberty of doing some research, called in some favours. I’m a step ahead of these bad guys, right? And let me tell you, 9 out of 10 of them won’t even come close. ‘Cause I still got favours I ain’t called in yet. Helped a lot of people out in the past, see?” I winked. “And I’ve done this shit before, tangled with the sort of bad dudes breathing down your neck. And I won.”

  Andrew shook his gaze from me, composing himself.

  “Very impressive,” he murmured softly.

  My “charms” hadn’t worked for too long. He sat back up straight, returning to his businesslike demeanour more quickly than I’d expected. I was impressed. This guy was tougher than he looked. Fuck, you’d have to be to sit in an office all day, year after year. Ain’t good for your soul.

  “Like I said earlier,” he continued; “I did my research too. Not, uh, in the same way as you, but still. I thought you were good before you walked in here. Now I know you’re the man for the job.”

  He stood up slowly and held his arm out. Palm slightly face up. Passive, but not a pussy. I stood with fluid and grace, for a very big man who’d had three whiskeys, towering over the businessman. His eyes widened, clearly impressed. I grabbed his hand, firm but not bone breaking.

  “Alright,” I said. “Consider me hired. Now, you probably don’t have me down as the type of guy but I’m legit...these days. I’m gonna need a contract, and 10% upfront. Expenses, right. Ain’t putting that shit on plastic!”

  I gave him what passed from me as a smile, a half grimace, half smirk. Trying to break the ice, but probably looking like I had indigestion. I did humour, but didn’t smile a lot since, well… since my wife ran out with the fucking Fed-Ex guy. Or milkman, details didn’t matter too much. Last I heard he didn’t walk too good these days, whoever the fuck he was.

  Now ain’t the time to dwell Axel. Bad shit’s happened. Shit that’s in the past. You ain’t no fucking fool these days.

  “I’ll swing by tomorrow afternoon to get the contract. Don’t do snail mail, emails or fucking Whatsapp for that matter. Like to stay under the radar. Makes my job a damn sight easier an’ all. I trust that will be enough time for your pretty secretary to type something up?”

  I jerked my thumb behind me, gesturing to the door. Andrew laughed.

  “Her? I pay her to answer the phones and look pretty, and flirt with any old businessman I think might be trouble. Works as well as you’d imagine. No I’ll do this one myself, I think.”

  I barked a short laugh. “Fair enough. ‘Least you know it’s done right first time eh? I know exactly what you mean. Don’t
get far in my line of work unless you trust number one, and those handful who have proved they ain’t corrupt as fuck, or morons. Or both, those are the worst.”

  He half turned on the way back to his desk, pausing to pass me a parting gaze.

  “You know what? I think our jobs might be more similar than you think. You could have just described high level corporate bullshit in one sentence! I’ll have to remember that line…” He sat back down in his plush leather armchair and nodded my way. “Until tomorrow, then.”

  I’m guessing that means: “Fuck off now, we’re done here.”

  I left quietly, feeling the secretary’s gaze on me as I passed through the outer office. Probably a sight for sore eyes, all the stiff, sleazy old business types that come through here. I gave her something to look at, walking slowly past her, brushing my slick, greased hair back with my left arm, flexing my bicep as I did so. I could hear cotton rip in the cheap fabric of the short sleeve of my tight plain black T shirt. I paused at the door on the way out, bending down to re-tie a shoelace which didn’t need retying.