Defender Hellhound (Protection, Inc: Defenders Book 3) Read online

  Defender Hellhound

  Protection, Inc: Defenders 3

  Zoe Chant

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  A Note From Zoe Chant

  Also by Zoe Chant

  Chapter 1

  It was amazing how much less time you wasted on the internet when you had only a year to live.

  When Natalie took out her phone, she felt no desire—well, very little, anyway—to look up photos of cute puppies. Instead, she used it to double-check the diagram to make sure she’d put on her gear correctly. After all, if she messed that up, she’d have considerably less than a year to live. In fact, she’d have exactly six seconds.

  But she’d made no mistakes. In her time as a trapeze artist, she’d learned a great deal about harnesses and buckles, not to mention the value of double-checking them when you intended to leap from a height.

  She walked up to the edge of the cliff and looked down. It was a gorgeous view. The early morning light had a translucent quality, making everything seem delicate as glass. Sunrise tinted the clouds the yellow-pink of a ripe peach. The beach below was a golden stripe against the glittering blue-green ocean.

  It was so unfair that she had so little time left in this beautiful world.

  Natalie shoved that thought aside. Since there was nothing she could do about her situation, she had to focus on not wasting any of the time she did have.

  The air was cold and clear, scented with wildflowers and salt. She spread her arms wide, readying to jump.

  Someone grabbed her from behind.

  Before she could react, her attacker was dragging her away. Whoever he was, he was strong. But she’d been trained in self-defense, and she’d fought a few times in her day. She was startled, but not panicked.

  Her left elbow drove straight back, ramming into her attacker’s stomach. He let out a pained grunt, and his hold loosened slightly. She stomped on his foot as hard as she could, then kicked backward. Natalie felt his weight shift as he side-stepped, and her foot went through air rather than his kneecap. She took advantage of his distraction to drop down, hoping to use her trained agility and flexible joints to slip from his grip like a watermelon seed.

  Triumph flared within her as his arms closed on nothing. Natalie rolled away, catching a quick glimpse of her attacker as she did: a tall man, lean and wiry. Broad-shouldered. He was stronger than her, and had a far longer reach.

  She was trapped between him and the cliff’s edge. There was no escape.

  Natalie looked into his eyes—very dark eyes, wide with some strong emotion—and laughed.

  “So long, sucker!” Natalie shouted, and threw herself off the cliff.

  He lunged forward with shocking speed, catching her around the waist. But her momentum overcame his strength. They both went over the edge.

  Natalie plummeted through the air. It was exhilarating and terrifying—more so because she didn’t know if her attacker, who still clung to her, would entangle her parachute, killing them both. But she had no time to check or try to free herself from him. With no other choices, she could only experience the moment of freefall, the rush of adrenaline, the utter clarity of thought:

  I’m alive.

  This moment, I am alive.

  That feeling was why she had come to the cliff in the first place; she was glad the attacker hadn’t ruined it for her. She counted down seconds, savoring the experience, then pulled the pilot chute.

  The parachute inflated with a jerk. An instant later, she was floating gently down toward the beach—with the man who had attacked her still clinging to her like a limpet. But rather than being afraid, she laughed again, giddy with adrenaline. What a ridiculous predicament!

  Her feet touched the wet sand. The parachute settled down behind them.

  The man let go of her and stepped back. “You were BASE jumping.”

  “Yes, of course,” Natalie said. “What did you think I was doing?”

  “I thought you were throwing yourself off a cliff!”

  She could hear the honesty in his voice. Their entire encounter rearranged itself in her mind like the shifting patterns of a kaleidoscope. No longer worried that he meant her harm, she unbuckled her harness and set it atop the parachute, then straightened up. “Were you trying to save my life?”

  He gave a deep sigh, rubbing his forehead. “Yes. Did you think I was attacking you?”

  “It was a reasonable assumption, considering that you snuck up and grabbed me from behind,” she pointed out, then politely added, “But thank you for trying.”

  “You’re welcome.” The expression on his face made her stifle another laugh.

  “And sorry for elbowing you. And stomping on your foot. And dragging you off a cliff.”

  He gave her a wry glance, like he was about to smile. He didn’t, though. “Don’t worry about it. Like you said, it was a reasonable assumption.”

  For the first time, she had a chance to get a good look at her would-be rescuer. She’d noted before that he was tall and lean, and had discovered for herself the strength in those wiry muscles. Now she saw that he had auburn hair, currently extremely windswept, a handsome angular face with high cheekbones and a strong chin, and dark brown eyes like wells that went deep, deep down. They were eyes that caught her attention, that made her want to look more…

  Something about that impulse made her nervous. She broke off eye contact and tried to observe the whole of him objectively. What would she think of him if she was back at the circus, running a roulette table and considering him as a possible mark to be scammed?

  I’d decide that he’s not a mark, she thought instantly. He’s much too smart. And observant. In fact, if I saw him around, that game would turn into an honest one until he went away, in case he figured out the whole thing and decided to call the cops.

  Natalie wasn’t sure exactly what about him had made her think that, but she trusted her judgment. After all, she’d been raised by con artists. If they couldn’t make accurate snap judgments about people, they’d try to con the wrong one and end up in jail.

  She tried to get more of a read on him, based both on observation and prior experience. Intelligent. Brave. Self-sacrificing. Self-possessed. He didn’t seem the slightest bit shaken by having unexpectedly tandem BASE jumped off a cliff. And he knew how to fight. That suggested a military or first responder background… but then again, the same could be said about her, and she was a civilian.

  He wore navy pants, a white button-down shirt, a brown jacket, and shoes that looked like they belonged in an office but had soles suitable for running in. The whole ensemble was neither noticeably cheap nor noticeably expensive. It didn’t particularly suit him, but it didn’t look bad on him, either. If she’d passe
d him in the street, she’d have guessed “college professor.” But that didn’t square with the rest, unless your idea of a college professor was Indiana Jones.

  And all that time he’d stood there in patient silence, studying her as she was studying him.

  “Okay, you got me.” She offered him her hand. “I’m Natalie Nash. Who are you?”

  He reached out his own. Long fingers, big knuckles, small scars from burns and cuts and scrapes. A handyman? A chef? Then those long fingers closed around hers, and the crackle of sexual chemistry that passed between them made her stop guessing. She looked up at him, startled, back into those deep dark eyes.

  Goddammit.

  She’d be dead in a year. The absolute the last thing she needed was to fall in love.

  “I’m Ransom,” he said. “Ransom Pierce.”

  Goddammit, she thought again. Double dammit.

  Natalie yanked her hand from his grip. “You’re Merlin’s buddy from the Marines! He sicced you on me!”

  He looked startled. “No—”

  “You’re telling me there’s more than one tall redhead named Ransom Pierce?”

  “No, I am Merlin’s…” He seemed to choke on the word “buddy,” and instead said, “I did serve with him in the Marines. And we do work together now. We’re both bodyguards in a private security agency—Protection, Inc: Defenders. But he didn’t sic me on you.”

  “Okay, so sic was a bit of an unfair word,” she admitted. “Let me rephrase that. He sent you to find me.”

  Ransom shook his head. “I came of my own accord. Merlin has no idea I’m here, or that you’re in town. All he knows is that you left the circus and you didn’t tell anyone why.”

  Natalie didn’t believe that for an instant. “We’ve never met before, you’re buddies with the guy who’s practically my brother, and you just happened to turn up here? Why, because you had a psychic vision that I was about to jump off a cliff?”

  That wry, maybe I’m thinking about smiling look reappeared on his face. “As a matter of fact, yes. That’s exactly what happened.”

  His words had the ring of absolute truth. If he was a liar, he was the best she’d ever encountered. And Natalie, like Merlin, had been raised by expert liars. Professional liars, even.

  Which reminded her that the woman who’d raised her was a fake psychic, and had taught Natalie how to pretend to have a psychic vision. It was easy. You rolled your eyes, clutched your head, and intoned stuff you’d learned about the person you were conning via basic internet research.

  She gave him a fierce grin, enjoying the game. “Okay, Pierce the Psychic. What’s my foster mother’s secret?”

  He pushed back a lock of auburn hair that the wind was blowing into his eyes. “If you mean the woman who runs the crime circus you and Merlin were raised in, I don’t need to be psychic to know that. I’ve met her. Her name is Janet Gold, she has a fake mindreading act under the name of Madame Fortuna, and she turns into a parrot.”

  Natalie was taken aback. Either Ransom really had met Janet, or Merlin had told him the secret of the Fabulous Flying Chameleons—both its secrets! It not only was a crime circus, but all the performing animals were shifters. But after another moment’s thought, Natalie dismissed the idea that Merlin might have blabbed. He thought of Janet as his mom—no “foster” or other caveats about it. He’d die before revealing anything that could harm her.

  “How is Janet?” Natalie said hesitantly, feeling guilty that she didn’t already know.

  “She’s fine,” Ransom reassured her. “So is everyone else. The circus ran into a bit of a problem, but it’s over now.”

  Natalie was in a quandary. She didn’t believe in psychic visions, but he’d found her somehow…

  He broke into her thoughts. “Why don’t you call Merlin? He can confirm everything I’m saying.”

  Her hands flew up in an automatic warding-off gesture. “I don’t want to call Merlin! Don’t tell him you saw me.”

  “Why? He’s worried about you. You must know that. You left the circus without telling anyone why or where you were going.”

  Natalie gave an uneasy shrug, then a wave of her hand, as if to brush the question aside. He was making her feel guilty, and she hated feeling guilty.

  But rather than drop the subject, he pressed forward. “Why don’t you want to talk to Merlin?”

  “See, now, that is exactly the sort of thing the spirits would tell you if you really were psychic.”

  Ransom gave a frustrated sigh. “Okay, first of all, there’s no spirits involved. Second of all, that’s not how it works. I know things—a lot of things—but not everything.”

  He put an odd emphasis on know, as if it didn’t mean quite the same thing to him as it did to most people. It could almost make her believe… but no, that was ridiculous. He was putting on a truly world-class act, but that was all.

  “Right,” Natalie said. “That’s always the excuse. Drop the psychic act, okay? If you’re friends with Janet and Merlin, you should know it’s professional courtesy not to scam a scammer.”

  He rubbed his forehead, but not in a “the spirits are talking to me” way. More in a “this conversation is giving me a headache” way. Then he looked straight into her eyes, pinning her with the force of his dark gaze. “Did you leave the circus because you don’t want anyone to know you only have a year to live?”

  His words struck her like a gust of strong wind. She actually took a step backwards, right into her parachute. As she started to trip, he grabbed her shoulders, steadying her until she could stand again.

  Once again, she felt that jolt of sexual chemistry, but this time it did nothing but add to her roiling emotions and the buzzing hive of thoughts flying around her head. There was no way he could know that. She’d told no one, and she’d given the doctor a false name and a fake insurance card to go with it.

  Maybe he really was psychic.

  More importantly, he knew.

  Ransom was the only person in the world who knew that she, Natalie Nash, had only a year to live.

  It all hit her so intensely that she slipped from his grasp and sat down hard on the crumpled mound of parachute cloth.

  Natalie wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there, wrestling with so many feelings that she couldn’t even sort them all out, before she realized that she was warmer. A cold breeze had been blowing in from the sea, chilling her without her even noticing it, but it had stopped. She glanced up and saw Ransom crouched on his heels in front of her, shielding her from the wind with his body.

  With an awkward abruptness, he said, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Why not? It’s the truth.” Then, the realization coming just ahead of the words, she added, “I’m glad someone knows. Even if it’s someone I don’t know, who I’ll never see again.”

  Ransom was giving her the strangest look. As if she was breaking his heart. That couldn’t be right. It was only that he had sad-looking eyes. “Why don’t you tell Merlin?”

  “My God, you’re persistent.”

  He didn’t reply, but only made a “go on” gesture.

  She could have lied or told him to mind his own business, but the idea of telling him the truth was weirdly tempting. It was also reckless, but being reckless felt good. Having him know her secret felt good. And with this little time left, what else did she have but pursuing what felt good?

  “I don’t want him to ever find out,” she said. “Janet either. Or anyone else at the circus. It would make them so sad. I want everyone who cares about me to believe that I went on with my life, and I’m alive and happy somewhere else.” Then, struck by an awful thought, she said, “You haven’t told him already, have you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Good,” she said. But that didn’t feel good. Merlin was her friend, he was right there in Refuge City, and the only way to keep him happy was to never see him again. He was sharp as a tack—if she spoke to him at all, even over the phone, he’d figure out that something was w
rong. And now that she and Ransom had settled the question of whether Merlin knew and why she didn’t want to see him, her business with Ransom was concluded and she’d never see those sad eyes of his again.

  And that made her sad.

  She had the impulse to grab his hand and say, “Run away with me.”

  Or at least, “Come have coffee with me.”

  She couldn’t have a real relationship now, of course. But there was nothing wrong with casual encounters, so long as everyone was on the same page and enjoying themselves. He already knew the most important thing. If he said yes, it would be in the full knowledge that it wouldn’t—couldn’t—be more than a brief affair.

  But there was something about him that was the opposite of casual. If she’d been playing a fake psychic, she’d have felt completely confident in pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, and saying the spirits had told her he’d never had a one-night stand in his life.

  And never mind sex, even something as small as having a longer conversation with him felt… dangerous. He was too intriguing. His eyes were too dark. His skin was too warm. He couldn’t follow where she was going, and she couldn’t stay where he lived. They’d met fifteen minutes ago, and in that time they’d gone off a cliff together and shared her deepest secret. If she let him stick around any longer, who knew what else might happen?

  It wasn’t even a real question. She already knew where it would go. She was lonely and he had sad eyes, and one thing would lead to another. And that would lead to feelings. And then she’d feel guiltier and guiltier with every moment that passed, counting the hours as they ticked down to the day she’d break his heart. So much for enjoying the time she had left!