Page 1 of His To Protect

Chapter One

Jack Cole looked at his watch. It was 7:00 a.m. He’d followed his client’s daughter all over Toronto last night. Barely old enough to vote and she’d managed to get into four clubs using a technique perfected by brothel workers for centuries. But when she ran into real trouble, the shady kind his client hadn’t warned him about, Jack had risked his life and kept her safe. It had been close and his client was grateful. Grateful enough to owe him one.

Jack didn’t plan on cashing in that chit though. Giuseppe Ricci kept him well-compensated when he hired him for the occasional bodyguard or PI work, but that was as far Jack wanted their relationship to go no matter how often Ricci asked him to take a permanent gig watching over his lover in Costa Rica. With Ricci’s power and influence, Jack felt it best if there was no permanence to their relationship.

“It’ll be easy, Jack, and Costa Rica’s beautiful. No one knows about Helena and the only way to the house is by helicopter or boat. Think about it, my friend.”

No one and everyone was Ricci’s friend, so he didn’t need to think about it.

Jack brushed off thoughts of his client and the night he wanted to forget, instead, favouring thoughts of breakfast, a hot shower, and his bed. But before he could put those thoughts to reality, he had to upload his pictures and type up his notes.

Jack’s business partner, Pete, was constantly hounding him to get a smart phone so he could send the files from any location, but Jack had yet to bend to the times. The flip phone was as much as he cared to bow. Jack was an old-fashioned guy and stubborn about things like technology. Who was he kidding? He was stubborn about everything.

Pete did all the computer investigations and dealt with finances, while Jack did the PI leg work and the physical stuff as the bodyguard. Jack also took care of the clients. It worked well for them. At least he’d thought so until he’d learned Pete had gotten them in some serious financial woes with the Canada Revenue Agency by hiring someone he shouldn’t have to do their accounting.

Jack plunked himself behind his desk and rubbed his face. He’d been working like crazy and living off four hours sleep a night (or day) if he was lucky. Pete had arrived only minutes before him and was already shoving a donut in his mouth. Jack never ate donuts or pastries of any kind. His body was their business and he kept it in top shape, but today, after having chased the brat all night, he was starving and the fatty pastry looked almost appetizing.

He looked away from Pete’s sugar-dusted chin and turned on his computer.

Almost.

What Jack really wanted was an omelette, toast and a steaming cup of black coffee, but he wouldn’t find the makings of any of that in the office even though it had a kitchen. He spent very little time here and Pete pretty much lived off soda and fast food.

Jack’s stomach gurgled and he shot Pete a dirty look. Nothing made him crankier than an empty stomach—except maybe a brat, and since he’d been dealing with both, he was cantankerous.

“How the hell can you eat that crap all day long?” Jack questioned irritably. Pete gave him the finger and smiled, letting jelly ooze from between his unevenly spaced teeth. The bell jangled at the door and before Jack could say what was on the tip of his tongue, both of their heads swiveled to see who’d arrived.

The girl glanced between jelly-toothed Pete, and grumpy-faced Jack, chose grumpy over disgusting and walked straight to him with determination. Make-up-free with her hair tucked under a Toronto Blue Jays hat and wearing an orange hoodie and ripped jeans, the girl looked young.

Jack almost groaned aloud. He hated when kids came in with their piggy bank savings shoved in their pockets looking for their dads. God, not today, he thought. He didn’t have the patience. The girl gave a longing look at the door before quickly sitting in the chair across from him.

“Hmm?” he grunted and nudged a chin at her. “What do you want?” Jack refused to hide his grumpy expression. At thirty-five, he’d lost the patience he’d once had in his youth.

Jack watched the girl study him. She was nervous, but now that she was closer, he could tell she was older than he’d originally thought. At least eighteen, he mused. He narrowed his eyes as she lowered her face to look down at her lap, taking a moment before looking up.

“I need help finding my dad.” Now Jack did groan aloud, making the girl’s eyes widen.

“Figures,” he grumbled, yanking his file cabinet open, pulling a stack of papers out, and dropping them in front of her with a thud. She looked blankly at the forms, blinked and then looked back up at him.

“I think it’ll be more than the standard forms and fees.” She glanced at his nameplate with slightly squinted eyes but didn’t add to her sentence.

“And why is it you think that?” he asked, sounding more than a bit irritated. He was imagining the coffee at his favourite diner when Pete spoke.

“Oh brother, don’t mind him, kid, he’s always in a mood when he skips breakfast.” Pete leaned back, tipping his chair and plunked socked feet on his desk.

Jack stared at the hole by Pete’s great toe and grimaced, swallowing the bitterness he currently held for his partner.

“In that case, Mr. Cole, my name is Alexis Riker, and I’d like to buy you breakfast.”

The diner wasa mom and pop’s place, a little greasy spoon with amazing coffee, fabulous food and ancient booths with worn pleather seats and cracking Formica tabletops. It was a place he liked to come regularly for breakfast.

The smell of bacon made his mouth water, and the scent of garlic-roasted hash browns almost brought tears to his eyes. He had to stop skipping meals and chasing teenybopper brats. Alexis grabbed a newspaper from the counter on their way to a quiet corner booth. Jack gave her a queer look, but she shook her head and raised her palm.

“I’m not even attempting a conversation with you until you’ve eaten. I’m a quick learner, Mr. Cole.” With that said, she sat and hid behind a wall of newsprint.

He shrugged and hid his amusement. If only all the women he dealt with were as easy to silence. When the waitress took their order, she only asked for coffee. His instinct was to kick up a fuss since he really hated when women starved themselves, but he was too hungry to bother. He’d only bite her head off, and she was likely to say she’d already eaten anyway. He had younger sisters; he knew how young women ticked.

Jack kept his gaze on his plate until his meal was ninety percent consumed, and then he looked up and spoke. “When’s the last time you saw your father?” He shoved the last corner of toast into his mouth.

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