He knew I meant it.
“Because…” He sighed. “I don’t like not knowing where he is.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded.
“I had a guy on him, Summer. A tail. Keeping an eye on him for me.”
“What?”
“He lost Sanchuk. No one knows where he is now.”
Well, shit. That was not welcome news.
But why didn’t he tell me about any of this sooner?
Did Brody know? Jude? Were they all keeping this from me?
“What do you mean, ‘no one’?” I asked.
“None of my guys can find him. Jude’s had some guys on it, too. No one’s managed to track him down.”
My mouth opened. I wanted to say very angry things about that. I did not like the guys handling all this shit behind my back and leaving me in the dark.
But he spoke first.
“I just want to be sure I’ve got eyes on you at all times,” he said quickly, “until we know where he is and that he’s not gonna be a problem.” He looked like he wanted to take me in his arms… but he couldn’t. “Let me just concentrate on that for now.”
Fuck. I sympathized with him. I really did.
I knew he just wanted to make sure he was doing what was best for me.
“Okay,” I agreed, kind of shell-shocked by this information. I was annoyed. Frustrated. And a little frightened, honestly.
I knew I was safe.
But it still creeped me out.
I didn’t care about not knowing where Blair was. But knowing that he’d basically disappeared didn’t sit well.
What did it mean?
“Besides, if I’m your date…” Ronan’s gaze dropped, scanning my cleavage. “I’m gonna be all kinds of distracted. I’m distracted enough just watching your ass. So to speak.” His eyes met mine again.
He was flirting with me to change the subject. I knew that.
I fell for it anyway.
“Well, make sure you keep a close eye on it.” I smirked, trying to let him know I wasn’t freaked out by any of this. I didn’t want him any more worried about me than he already was.
Then I turned and sashayed away, enjoying the feeling of his eyes on my body.
As long as Ronan was watching my back… I felt pretty damn untouchable.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ronan
I woke up in the morning to the sound of the doorbell ringing.
I was in Summer’s bed, as usual, with her naked body flung half over mine. She groaned sleepily.
I was instantly alert.
The clock on her bedside table said it was just past ten in the morning. We’d blissfully slept in. Probably needed to after the round of aggressive sex we’d had on the stairs up to her bedroom, before stumbling the rest of the way up to bed.
That was at three a.m. or something.
I slid out from under her, whispering in her ear, “Take your time, babe. I’ll see who it is.”
She mumbled something unintelligible, buried her face in a pillow and sighed.
I pulled on last night’s jeans, which were on the floor. I was still doing up my belt as I took a look out the front window at the driveway below.
A new-looking silver Mercedes was parked in the driveway, glinting in the morning sun.
I jogged down the stairs, pulling on my shirt along the way, which I found on the stairs at the scene of last night’s screwing. I buttoned it up. Then I did my best to finger-smooth my hair, and looked through the frosted glass window next to the front door.
I could make out the forms of a couple of people. One was a woman with a handbag on her arm. She was leaning in, trying to peer through the window.
I unlocked the door and opened it a few inches. A couple stood outside. Maybe early fifties. Both of them were attractive and fit. Well-dressed, salon-coiffed hair. Looked like they’d just come from a country club with a severe dress code and insultingly high annual dues.
The man swept his designer sunglasses off as I opened the door wider. Before I could speak, he said, “We’re here to see Summer,” in a gruff voice. “You can tell her her father is at the front door.”
Oh… shit.
Pale-blue eyes pretty much exactly like Summer’s swept over me with a look of bowel-quaking disapproval. He had broad shoulders, a similar stature to my own. In his younger days, he might’ve given me a run for my money.
Same thing he was thinking, I was pretty sure.
Which was when I realized he assumed he was staring down a man who’d fucked his daughter last night.
Not incorrectly.
Shit, it was way too early for this. Did I have crusties in my eyes?
Had I zipped up my fly?
“Of course,” I said, clearing the morning frog from my throat and extending my hand. “I’m Ronan Sterling, Summer’s bodyguard.”
Her father’s critical demeanor shifted, his jaw unclenching as he absorbed that information.
“Oh! How lovely to meet you.” Summer’s mom took the offered hand, and my gaze shifted to her. “I’m Joanne.” She was pretty, with whitish-blonde hair, but didn’t look much like Summer. She did look like Justice, though.
I shook her hand firmly but gently. “Good to meet you, ma’am. Please, come in.”
I stepped aside to let them in, discreetly checking my fly. Zipped, thank Christ.
Since when did parents drop in on their grown-up kids, unannounced?
Since right now, apparently.
I locked the door behind them, and Summer’s father looked me up and down, with zero subtlety. Finally, he offered his hand. “Ronan, is it?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Gunnar Sorensen,” he introduced himself. “How long have you been working for my daughter?”
“Oh, Gun,” his wife said. “Let’s get our shoes off and pause the inquisition. I’m sure Summer will fill us in.” She smiled at me, obviously accustomed to her husband’s protectiveness of their daughter.
Honestly, I didn’t mind it.
“I’d be happy to answer any questions you have about the work I’ve been doing here,” I assured them both. I held out my hand, guiding them into the living room. Thankfully, there was no party here last night, so I didn’t need to scan for abandoned bras or
