Page 31 of Protective Heroes

High Heat Holiday Bodyguard

One

Gabriel

Isank my hands into my pockets, staring out over a bunch of people in bathing suits in the middle of winter. In Michigan.

Fucking lunatics. Portable heaters maintained the glass atrium warm I’m sure, but the sight of snow-covered everything and bathing suits just didn’t mix in my books.

“Sir, and these?”

A shaky voice pulled my attention away from the site below.

A bellboy, barely over twenty, held out an unused tube of lube and a hot pink unpackaged dildo.

He cleared his throat and shifted in place. “I found it in the, uh, bathroom, sir.”

“I see.” I angled my head around and jerked my chin toward the suitcase on the bed. “Put them in there, close it up and see to it they are all loaded in the back of my SUV within ten minutes.” I handed over my keys and valet ticket. “Make sure to leave it out front in idle, heater on.” That’s how long it would take me to do the next part of my job.

Fucking Colonel Davidson. My old commanding officer is the only person on Earth I’d do this for. Missions were something I left behind when I was discharged from the Corps five years ago. I worked Wall Street now and made more in a month than I did my entire fifteen-year career with the Marines. No regrets, but I moved on.

So did my former commanding officer. Until his daughter skipped out on Christmas and then apparently it was Operation Christmas Retrieval with me stuck in the middle as the gopher.

Normally I wouldn’t mind. I owed the man. The aging Colonel started me out in the stock market after working in the private security sector for a while.

Guns, hand-to-hand combat and training former soldiers to work private security was great, but two years ago I hit burnout and needed a change in a big way. Something other than brute force and bullets.

The Colonel introduced me to a few people and I went solo from there. But because of the Colonel, I held several offshore accounts and a diversified investment portfolio of restaurants, bakeries and boutiques spread out across the country—all making my current life a lot more comfortable than my days in the Corps.

You can see why it would have been tough for me to say no when Davidson told me I was the only man he trusted to go after his runaway daughter and bring her back to him in time for Christmas.

A hefty responsibility for any man, but for me, it weighed exceptionally more given our past.

We dropped out of contact for a long while, but at eight last night I received a call and at five this morning Mystique, a small luxury hideaway a couple of hours outside Christmas, Michigan appeared over the hood of my truck.

So, here I was standing in the middle of a glass atrium on the side of a snow-covered mountain watching a bunch of over-privileged frat boys and self-centered co-eds partying away their parents' money.

I raked my gaze over a scattering of scantily covered bodies lounging in clusters by the multiple heaters. Over half of these girls look like they could use a cold shower, a reality check, and not the nose job they probably have lined up for a Christmas gift from dear old daddy.

I honestly can’t make this shit up.

On top of that, I actually have a job that involved women in bikinis for once in my life and I feel nothing. Not even a twinge of pleasure. Maybe a few years back, sure, but all I want to do right now is get in, get out and get back to work.

These women looked almost molded from plastic with their over-enhanced breasts bouncing behind the tiny scraps of fabric meant to draw attention rather than cover anything. I could pick out nose jobs, tummy tucks, and hair extensions as I walked the rows of poolside lounge chairs.

Tough to imagine one of these plastic women belonged to Davidson.

As the thought hit, I caught sight of a pretty brunette off to the side enjoying a heater all to herself. Like she set herself apart from the group as some princess.

She faced me, sunglasses in place, long legs stretched out in front.

I took my shades off for another once-over, making sure the winter beauty wasn’t a snowy mirage.

My eyes dripped over every bare patch of skin on her body and being honest, she didn’t leave much of anything to the imagination with that scrap of red cloth. Her father would keel over from an instant heart attack if he saw his little girl like this.

There was nothing fake about this girl. From the long waves of her glossy brunette hair that cascaded over her full, natural tits to the gentle curve of her belly to the long, strong legs that looked like they could wrap around a man and hold on tight while he buried himself deep inside her.

Everything screamed one hundred percent real. My heart raced a little faster, pumping fire through my veins until my cock swelled.

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