Hero Duty

  Hero Duty

  Jenny Schwartz

  Hero Duty

  Jenny Schwartz

  She can buy anything she wants…except the courage to stand up to her family. That’s where he comes in.

  Jessica Trove is a billionaire Cinderella, bullied by her family, and terrified of the responsibilities crashing down on her shoulders. She knows what she needs to do — she just needs to find the courage to do it.

  That’s where Brodie Carlton comes in. Jessica is used to buying anything she wants, and what she wants right now is a hero. She’s going to make Brodie Carlton an offer he can’t refuse: be her emotional bodyguard, and she’ll make him rich. The only question is who will guard their hearts?

  About the Author

  Jenny Schwartz is a West Australian author who dreams of living by the sea. Sitting on the front veranda with her morning cuppa and watching whales swim past sounds like the perfect life.

  Contents

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…

  Chapter 1

  The tense, ugly feeling in Jessica Trove’s gut was a familiar one. The boa constrictor had moved in on her mum’s death eleven years ago. Now, whenever she got stressed, it wound tighter and tighter. One day, it would crush her completely.

  But not today.

  Today, she was ready for it. Her outfit had been carefully chosen: jeans, because she was visiting a junkyard, and a tailored linen shirt, buttoned to the throat, because she was here on business. She’d smoothed her blonde hair into a chignon to emphasise her seriousness.

  Of course, if she didn’t get out of the rental car, it would all be wasted.

  On that thought, she swung her legs out and started down the driveway.

  Two dogs hurled themselves at the wire fence, barking viciously. They were mutts, dangerous mutts with big white teeth and the bigger of them stood waist-high.

  She shrank away, as far from the fence as she could and kept her eyes on the garage at the end of the driveway.

  Its two doors were open showing a large, tidy space and a man’s legs sticking out from beneath an old, beat-up, black car. He had to have heard the dogs’ announcement of a stranger’s arrival, but he gave no indication of it. Not even the twitch of a scuffed boot.

  The radio played an 80s rock ballad.

  Hesitating in the doorway, Jessica heard the man singing along to it. His voice was low and muffled by the car, but it struck her how relaxed he was — and how awful she felt. Rather than raise her voice, knock on the car or tap his boot, she crossed to the radio and switched it off.

  There was a thunk, followed by the rattle of a trolley and the man rolled out from under the car.

  Shivers slid under Jessica’s skin.

  Brodie Carlton. Instantly recognisable from his photograph, even out of uniform. Six-foot two, muscled shoulders covered by blue overalls, brown hair cut short and hazel eyes, frowning up at her.

  The dogs had stopped barking, but she still wanted to cut and run. This man was too much challenge.

  But if she ran now, she’d never stop. ‘Sergeant Carlton?’

  ‘I’ve left the army.’ He pushed a boot to the floor and the trolley rattled back under the car. Like sliding a door closed or an escalator descending, he simply shut her out.

  ‘I know.’ Her simple words hung on the air.

  The trolley reversed. He rolled out completely, put aside the wrench he held and stood. At his full height all that power, under perfect control, intimidated her.

  Instinctively she stepped back when he stepped forward, but the bench on which the radio sat blocked her retreat. The edge cut into her spine.

  He stopped.

  Jessica watched, wide-eyed. She was used to men who used their power to intimidate, but Brodie Carlton had seen her distress and respected it, not exploited it. Hope tangled with nervousness, almost choking her. Her voice was thin when she said, ‘I’m Jessica Trove. I’m a friend of Sonia Dwyer.’ She held out her hand.

  The frown returned to his face. No, not a frown. His battle face. There was no expression, just steel determination; blocking her out. He glanced at his hand and wiped it down his overalls. ‘I’m dirty, Ms Trove.’

  ‘I don’t mind dirt.’ It took courage, but she kept her hand out. She looked at his face, not at her hand, which trembled.

  Slowly, his fingers closed around hers.

  His handshake was firm but gentle. His skin was calloused. He was warm where she was freezing.

  She wanted to hold onto his strength, but she hadn’t the right. She released his hand and tucked hers into the back pocket of her jeans. ‘I know what it cost you to help Sonia.’

  ‘I’m thinking you don’t.’

  ‘You lost your life in the army.’

  ‘I quit. They didn’t fire me.’ The gentleness he’d shown her vanished, beaten out by impatience. ‘If you’re here to say “thank you” — ’

  ‘No, I…I’m here to offer you a job.’

  The seam of the back pocket of her jeans ripped, giving way under the pressure of her nervous pulling at the pocket. She forced her hand to still. ‘I need a hero.’

  ***

  ‘A hero?’

  A beautiful blonde walks into the garage and asks him to be her hero. Brodie reckoned he ought to check for hidden cameras, except this Jessica Trove wasn’t the kind of woman who worked on television — or worked at all. Everything about her said ‘money’.

  Even with the dogs barking and the radio blaring, he’d heard her walk in with the sexy click-clack of expensive shoes. He was a guy. Of course he’d looked. From under the car he’d seen the gorgeous long legs in tight jeans and he’d rolled on out for a better look.

  Blonde, beautiful and privileged. He was no fashionista, far from it, but it took serious money to wear jeans that tight and a shirt that snug, and look elegant rather than slutty.

  He preferred his women to look natural. Maybe that was because he’d grown up here in Jardin Bay on the southwest coast of Australia. The living was easy and the people friendly. He liked surfer babes or girls who thought living the hippie life might be cool. Occasionally rich girls liked to walk on the wild side with a soldier, but they were nothing but trouble.

  And this tightly wrapped package of dynamite was a friend of Sonia Dwyer.

  Not that there was much similarity between Lieutenant Sonia Dwyer and Jessica Trove, not once you got past the gloss of wealth. The lieutenant was less likely than a tank to show nervousness, whereas this woman was literally shaking with it.

  He’d have offered reassurance, except his days of rescuing damsels in distress were over. Instead he folded his arms. ‘I don’t need a job.’

  It wasn’t the whole truth. He did need a job, but Brodie wasn’t rushing the decision. He’d expected to live his working life in the army. It had given him discipline, a place to belong, a chance to fight for principles he believed in, and in the end, it had betrayed and tried to destroy him. The next time he made a commitment, he’d be damned certain it went two-ways.

  He had savings. He had a house, currently rented out to pay the mortgage on it. Meantime he was living in his brother’s house, and while that didn’t sit right with him, Zane had made it clear that he was more than welcome. In fact, the way Zane had put it, Brodie owed him the housesitting. Zane was pissed that Brodie hadn’t told him about the army’s screw up. Brothers had each other’s backs.

  ‘But…I thought
…’ Pale pink lipstick glossed Jessica’s mouth, emphasising its softness. Her lips parted on a shaky breath. ‘Have you already signed up with a security company?’

  ‘No.’ Disgusted, he half turned away. Sure, his training and experience meant he was a walk-in for a security operative role, but it didn’t define him. He was more than muscle.

  The change in his life might have been forced on him, but he had choices now. Security work or he could retrain, maybe as a fire fighter or paramedic, or he could stay right where he was and leverage what his granddad had taught him about cars into a vintage car restoration and trade business.

  ‘Then, please, before you make any decisions,’ Jessica leant forward, ‘listen to me. You fought for what you believed was right. That guy would have walked clear from his sexual assault on Sonia. She would have lost her career for daring to report him. But you spoke up. You backed her. No matter what they said — and Sonia told me they put pressure on you. You being a sergeant, and that guy and Sonia being commissioned officers. You had Sonia’s back and you made it right.’

  ‘Ms Trove, I don’t know where you’re going with this.’ Nor did he like having it re-hashed. He wouldn’t have changed even one of his actions, but it had been a bad time. Betrayal was a kick to the gut.

  ‘I’m explaining that you’re a hero.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  She kept going, like she hadn’t heard. ‘You’re a hero. And like I told you, I need a hero.’

  The desperation in her voice stopped him cold, brought his focus from old, fouled-up memories to the woman in front of him. She meant it. She really meant it. There were a hell of a lot of reasons a woman might need a hero and none of them were good. He disregarded her tall, sexy figure, the expensive clothes, her delicate skin, and looked into her blue eyes. Really looked.

  Ghosts looked back at him.

  ‘Who hurt you?’ he asked.

  For an instant, her face crumpled like a toddler’s. Sheer pain and sadness broke the composure she was hanging onto so desperately. Then she hauled on her control and met his eyes.

  ‘No one. Not the way you mean. I don’t need a bodyguard.’

  ‘What do you need?’ And damn him for a softie.

  ‘A hero.’ Just a breath of a voice.

  It stirred a response as much emotional as sexual. He wanted to answer the plea and chase the promise. He wanted it so much that his ‘No’ was harsher than he’d meant it.

  She flinched. ‘You have to understand. I’m not brave.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘You’re terrified right now, but you’re not running away. That’s pretty much the definition of bravery.’

  ‘Desperation.’ Her smile was a grimace. She abandoned the attempt. ‘I can’t stand much more of this, so I’ll cut to the chase. I’ll give you one-million dollars for a year of your life, but it won’t take that long.’

  ***

  ‘One-million dollars?’

  Jessica saw the stupefaction on his face. Maybe she should have led into things more, balanced out the stark offer of payment with a bit more background information. But she couldn’t, she just couldn’t share all the private, family things and her raw emotions unless she knew that he’d listen and be there at the end. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him to keep a secret. What she knew was that she couldn’t handle sharing it all with him, then having him walk away.

  Rejection was a familiar experience, but this time the stakes were too high. He had to promise first. Then she knew he’d keep his word.

  He was everything she’d hoped for — and more.

  Sonia hadn’t told her he was sexy. No, more than sexy. Compelling. His hazel eyes were a tawny shade, almost gold against the tanned skin of his face with its broad cheekbones and square chin. His body…well, she’d expected a recently serving soldier to be fit, but Brodie was power in human form. Just because she preferred to date intellectual men who thought a walk from the car park to the library was a workout, didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a man who respected his body.

  ‘What the hell do you want me to do? Kill a guy?’ Brodie demanded.

  ‘No! No, nothing violent. I haven’t explained very well and I don’t know if I can make you understand. You’re a hero. When there’s a fight, you fight. Me, when there’s a fight, I run away. This time, I can’t run. Or rather, I can, but if I do I’ll never forgive myself. So I need help. I need courage. That’s you. I want to hire your courage.’

  ‘Woman, you’re nuts.’

  ‘I’m not crazy. I’ve thought and thought about this. I need courage. You need money to start a new life. We can help each other.’

  ‘One-million dollars is crazy.’

  ‘Not to me. It’s worth it to me. This is my whole life, my self-respect, what I owe the people who loved me, Mum and Pops.’

  ‘Jessica.’ It sounded like he didn’t know what to say. ‘Why? What’s this about?’

  ‘I just need you to be there for me.’ She was pathetic. Other people had friends, a partner, someone. She had to buy someone to be there for her. Her spine straightened. But she would do it. The shame of it wouldn’t kill her. ‘If I tell you, I need to know that you won’t turn away. It’s about business, but it’s also about family.’

  He stared at her for a long moment. ‘I won’t go into a situation blind.’

  ‘One-million dollars,’ she reminded him. ‘And I promise you, I’m not asking you to do anything bad or even difficult — for you, I mean.’ Inspiration struck. ‘Think of yourself as my emotional bodyguard.’

  ‘I think you call those guys “counsellors”.’

  She hugged her arms. ‘You’re wrong. Counsellors try to change you. That’s not what I want. I don’t want to fit in with what’s left of the family. I want to be me. One-million dollars to lend me your courage.’

  ‘Is your family really that frightening?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘One-million dollars’ worth of frightening?’ he asked, eyebrows raised.

  She thought of Derek and Portia. ‘Believe it.’

  ‘I find it hard to. Families disagree, you know. It doesn’t mean they don’t love you or won’t be there for you — ’

  The strangled sound she made was inelegant, but effective.

  He broke off and studied her, frowning. ‘All right,’ he said slowly. ‘I’ll make you a deal. I’ll agree, but if when you tell me the full story you’re asking for something illegal or immoral, I walk.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her knees wobbled and she leaned back against the bench.

  ‘You did hear my escape clause? I’ll decide what’s immoral.’

  She smiled. ‘You won’t find anything.’ He raised a sceptical eyebrow. She ignored it. ‘How soon can you leave for Sydney?’

  ‘Whoa. First the story.’

  Her giddy relief congealed into a cold lump of dread. ‘I could tell you in the car.’

  ‘Or you could tell me here. My granddad’s house is next door. He’s in town. We’ll sit on the veranda and talk.’ His voice and expression said it was non-negotiable.

  She sighed. She’d known she’d have to share her story sooner or later. The question was, how much to share?

  ‘Excuse me.’ He brushed past her to the sink and turned on the cold-water tap.

  She edged away from him, unsettled by her response to his closeness. She’d wanted to stand her ground. It was atypical. Usually she liked a circle of personal space between her and the world. She even hated public hugs and air kisses. However, with Brodie, closeness brought a sense of energy and security. She watched as he soaped his hands; large hands, marked by his work. Competent hands.

  ‘Okay, let’s go.’ He wiped his hands cursorily on a clean towel that hung on a hook beside the sink.

  As she stepped from the dimness of the garage to the sunlight outside, the dogs started up again. She flinched.

  ‘Buddy, Holly, quiet. Let me just shut them away.’

  ‘No, it’s okay. I’d forgotte
n they were there.’ She’d been concentrating on him and on how it felt to walk beside him; a startled, hopeful feeling that she had an ally. ‘If you don’t mind introducing me to them, I’m not scared of dogs.’ She wasn’t a complete wuss. She could do this. ‘I like dogs.’

  He cast her a sceptical look, then shrugged.

  Okay, so the dogs she normally met were cute Maltese Terriers and Poodles, not junkyard mutts; still, she held out her hand as instructed and let the dogs smell her.

  “Buddy, Holly, she’s a friend.”

  Her heart jumped. She wished she were this man’s friend, but friends didn’t have to buy help. She patted the dogs’ rough heads. Buddy looked like a Mastiff cross, but mostly Mastiff. Holly was a bit shorter, more like a Rottweiler.

  He opened the gate and she had a momentary attack of nerves, but walked in. The dogs nudged her amiably. She laughed, surprised. ‘They’re pussycats.’

  He grinned. ‘Only when properly introduced.’

  Jessica’s fingers dug into Buddy’s fur. Brodie’s amusement was fleeting, but it made him startlingly attractive. Sexy and compelling she could deal with. Likeable made him one of the stars.

  Derek, her stepbrother, was one of those stars. People gravitated to him. They craved his attention and were willing to believe anything he told them. He had charisma.

  Stars shone. Ordinary people like her had to remember that that light was intense enough to burn and destroy.

  She wrenched her attention from Brodie and stared at the house in front of them. It was an old fibro shack, though scrupulously maintained. A new red roof topped the faded green walls. The cosy, square shape looked like a child’s drawing of ‘home’.

  Around the corner she could just see a washing line and beyond that, a fence with a gate at the end of a worn path. If she strained her ears she could imagine she heard the waves on the beach below, although the sound was more likely the heavy beating of her blood. Anxiety had her every muscle tense and her palms sweating.

  ‘You can’t hear the sea.’

  ‘Pardon?’