Page 83 of Defenders of Jawhara

There was a rumor that someone or someones were unhappy that the cousins were American, and there were hints that their safety might be in jeopardy. Not ones to back away from love or back down from potential political pressure, Prince Khalil and Shira Malone decided to move up their wedding day, and it was now T-Minus sixty minutes away.

Brock flipped open her file, which was sparse. Ella Clausen, twenty-six. From what he’d been told, the newest team member would be undercover as one of the cousins’ school friends, which would allow her to be close to the cousins in places where PJ might stand out too much. Slade had shared that she was good at her job and could easily integrate herself into situations without anyone realizing why she was really there.

That level of subterfuge was a good skill to have, and while Brock hoped that any threats to the cousins remained nothing more than threats, having someone else that close to the women could well be a matter of life or death.

He looked at the photos that were included, and she looked like a model. Legs for days and a body to match. Her face was obscured by a large hat and glasses, but from what he could see, she looked like she’d fit right in with the glitz and glamor of this wedding.

As Slade was sticking close to Kamal today, he had asked Brock to make sure someone met the newest member of their team, brought her up to speed on the situation on the ground, and then escorted her to the garden, where the wedding ceremony was about to begin.

The woman had landed less than an hour ago via commercial flight and was now en route to the palace. His phone pinged, notifying him of a text, and while he knew what it would say, he checked to confirm that the driver had just turned onto the private road leading to the palace.

Making his way to the palace entrance, Brock watched the limousine pull up in front of the palace. The rear door opened before the driver was out of the car. He lifted his eyebrows when a pair of very tan, very bare, and very long legs emerged from the car.

Definitely better than the photos. And definitely off limits.

Letting his eyes travel up to see the rest of the body attached to them, he nodded slightly in approval. Until he reached her face, that was. His mind immediately flashed back five years to the last time he’d seen her.

What in the hell was Keira doing here?

END OF THE SHEIKH’S CAPTIVE BRIDE

THE JAWHARA SHEIKHS SERIES BOOK THREE

SLADE SECURITY TEAM

THE COMPLETE SERIES

BLURB

Never mix business with pleasure…

Keira Mantz just scored the job of a lifetime. She’s been working for a high-end security company for years, and finally she has a mission all her own: to protect Erin, the Sheikh of Jawhara's wife. But what she thought would be a solo operation suddenly becomes a two-person job. And her partner is none other than Brock Wells, the man who recruited her. The last thing Keira wants is Brock stealing her thunder. But she’ll do whatever it takes to succeed.

Brock has been avoiding Kiera since the night he found her fighting some very dangerous men in a bar parking lot. The Slade Security “no fraternization” rule is serious business, and with her mile-long legs, fierce determination, and unwavering focus, Keira is a temptation he can’t afford. But with the threat to the sheikha closer than they realized, Brock and Kiera have to go deep undercover, posing as a couple. And suddenly that temptation becomes impossible to ignore…

When their ruse gets a little too real, can Keira and Brock risk letting their guards down? Or will giving in to their feelings put innocent lives in danger?

1

Five years ago

Brock Wells exited the bar, heading for his ’66 Mustang. The twang of a sad love song followed him out, lamenting the pain of always striking out with women, and his head buzzed with the four beers he’d had. The team had just finished a training operation in South America, and Slade had given everyone some much-needed time off—meaning Brock had come home hoping to find some female company.

He’d hit a bar that was a ways off from his usual haunts, looking for a stranger with doe eyes and a body that could make him forget just about everything. Tonight, however, his batting average was about as good as the one who wrote that song that he could still hear playing inside.

Well, it was probably better this way. Slade had no rules against team members hooking up outside of the teams, but he also didn’t like sending anyone into the thick of things if they had attachments. That was where Brock thrived—in the middle of the worst trouble. This meant that Brock liked his girls for one night only, and every girl in that bar had had the hungry look of a woman hunting a man.

It looked like it was going to be an early night, his favorite video game, and a few more beers for him.

Glimpsing movement from the corner of his eye—three figures under the glare of the parking lot lights—Brock stopped, and everything else went into automatic assessment. Some habits never went away, and the ones from his days as a SEAL were deeply ingrained.

Two guys, one woman—and yeah, he wasn’t being paid by Slade for this one, but he also wasn’t wired to look away. He headed over, took up a spot that gave him the advantage, since it put him right behind the guy holding the knife, and boxed the trio against a battered pickup. He offered a friendly grin. “Looks like a party.”

The two guys—good ol’ boys by the looks of the wife-beater shirts and sagging jeans, and none too smart, going by the eyes glazed by drink and drugs—glanced at each other. The guy without a knife nodded at the half-empty parking lot. “Get lost.”

Brock shrugged to loosen his shoulders. “Let the girl go, and I won’t have to mess up this crappy spot with your even crappier blood. I’m only asking once.”

The girl had guts enough. She kept hold of one guy’s wrist—the guy with the knife—but she glanced at Mr. Mouthy and said, her voice low and firm, “Please, I changed my mind, Toad.”

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