What does it take to secure a heart? Meet the men who know the answer—Smith Security Services.
Shannon, Weave, and Bob all grew up together with the common goal of becoming the next big thing in MMA. Being the children of some of the biggest names in the fighting circuit cast huge expectations on each of them. In an attempt to find their own way in the world, they’ve ventured into the private security field.
Ensuring the safety of their clients isn’t always an easy task. It’s a job made even more complicated when they meet an eccentric fashion designer, several drag queens, a few quirky F.B.I. agents, and end up uncovering a hot bed of black op activity.
However, no amount of training could prepare them for their biggest challenge—hanging onto their hearts.
Wire covered lights that hung from a concrete ceiling were the only part of the tunnels that registered in Gracie’s fog-filled brain. She tried to count them as they flew past, in attempt to cling to reality, but no matter how hard she blinked her eyes they refused to focus. The man who carried her in his arms was wearing black SWAT gear, and not an inch of his skin was showing. Finally, he stopped. She tried even harder to bring the world into focus but one section of her brain recognized that something horrible lurked on the other side of her shock. She continued to shy away from acknowledging it.
“Sorry about this, but I need to check you for injuries.”
His voice sounded soothing as he laid her gently on the floor and started stripping her out of her clothes. She barely registered the cold air as it hit her skin. She recognized she should be feeling embarrassed, or even outraged, but not a single feeling could penetrate her mind. He reached up, pulling his ski mask over his head. Then the sound of ripping Velcro rent the air as he tugged off a bulletproof vest. His eyes appeared wonderfully sweet, and she focused on their amber color, as if she were dangling from a lifeline.
“I’m Jacob Cook. Do you know your name?”
“It’s Gracie St. John,” she forced out the whispered words, and he nodded.
“Gracie, you didn’t take any direct hits but you’ve been grazed twice. It doesn’t appear to need stitches—it’s more of a severe burn mark. I realize you’re in shock and probably won’t be able to stand, but I need to get this blood off of you, okay?”
“Okay.”He left the room and she started to scream for him not to leave her, but he was back as quickly as he left. He lifted her nude body into his arms and carried her into the bathroom where he had turned on the shower earlier. Then, in a move she wasn’t expecting, he stepped into the shower with her in his arms—fully dressed in combat boots and all.
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