The Ex Assignment (Rogue Protectors Book 1) Read online

  “They’ve been partners a long time?”

  “I think five years, but they’re just friends though.”

  Declan shot a disbelieving look at the nurse. “Then I don’t see—”

  “Cops and their partners, man.” The nurse grinned at him. “Almost as good as married, right?”

  When they got to the door and Kelso, Bristow asked, “She ready for me?”

  “Give her two minutes,” the detective said.

  Declan’s phone beeped with a message. It was from Levi.

  Levi: “Theo’s about to be discharged. Ms. Woodward?”

  Me: “She’s almost ready.”

  Levi: Change of plans. Spear got us a residence on Brentwood. More security.”

  Me: “You think Gabby will agree to this?”

  Levi: “Use your charm, Roarke.”

  Me: “Doubt that’s gonna work.”

  Levi didn’t reply, but Declan imagined he was laughing his head off.

  5

  “You’re back, huh?”

  Declan didn’t look at Nick. He managed to tamp down the bitterness and rage and kept his eyes staring ahead as he watched Bristow and another nurse reunite Gabby with Theo.

  Peter’s right-hand man, who happened to be Gabby’s ex-husband number two, registered shock when he saw Declan, but quickly recovered and even had the audacity to stand beside him.

  “Yes.”

  “Theo doesn’t need any upheavals in his life so soon after Peter’s death.”

  This time he turned cold eyes toward Nick. “Upheavals. That’s a favorite term of yours, isn’t it?”

  “You’re bad news, O’Connor. Always have been, always will be.”

  “Name’s Roarke now. O’Connor’s long dead.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have come back,” Nick whispered harshly. “You destroyed Gabby’s career. Look at her now.”

  Declan raised a brow. “Such concern for her. Didn’t even see you peek in her room to see if she was okay.”

  “Theo needed me more.”

  “You mean, Theo, your cash cow?”

  Gabby took that moment to look at them, a frown creasing her brow. “Everything all right?” Must be awkward for her seeing her ex-husbands side by side. Resentment overwhelmed him. At least she finally wised up and didn’t go for husband number three.

  Theo glanced at them. “You two know each other?” The boy wasn’t stupid. He already figured something was up, judging by how nonchalant he was asking the question.

  “Nothing to worry about, kid.” Nick walked up to the boy and put his arm around his shoulder. Declan wanted to haul him back and flatten him. He didn’t want that man anywhere near Theo. But he was held impotent by what little he understood of the situation. At this point, Gabby’s captain and Kelso exchanged strange looks. Because Declan didn’t want anyone else to speculate when they saw him beside Theo, he made the decision to hang way back from his son.

  The captain was able to request provisional police protection for Theo Cole and a detail would patrol their temporary residence. Gabby didn’t consider herself under police protection. She’d been stubborn as shit arguing with her superior. Said it was part of her job and if that Ortega guy came after her—to use her as bait.

  Declan gritted his teeth at that.

  Before they headed to the secure residence in Brentwood that Spear arranged for them, Gabby needed to pick up items from her apartment. He was accompanying her, with Kelso dropping them off. They would be using Gabby’s private vehicle since her cruiser was a total wreck.

  When they walked out to the waiting room, it was crowded with patients and fans. There were hospital security present to make sure nothing got out of hand. Declan almost felt sorry for the teenager, except Theo seemed to be in his element, smiling and waving even as Levi body-checked someone who tried to slip past him. His partner’s size alone was intimidating. Declan huddled protectively around Gabby.

  One reporter tried to shove a mic at her, but he knocked the device away.

  “Boy, you’re useful,” Bristow told him.

  “Detective Woodward.” The reporter was persistent. “Is this related to your father’s death? There are reports calling it a gang hit.”

  Another one asked, “Is this a gimmick for the show’s ratings? Last season it was the strange virus that hit the set.”

  “Captain Mitchell! Captain Mitchell!” The reporter rushed off when he spotted Gabby’s boss.

  The outside of the emergency room was infinitely worse. It was a zoo. News vans were everywhere. Guess the show was really popular. Declan might even consider watching it.

  Questions, camera flashes, and the crowd’s frenzy grew in decibels. Cold fingers clutched his hand and he glanced down to see Gabby’s face etched in pain with a thumb and forefinger pinching her forehead.

  Shit, her concussion. This was too much for her.

  “I’m double parked here,” Kelso said grimly, also noting his partner’s distress. “Let’s go.”

  When they reached Gabby’s apartment, Kelso had started to rub Declan the wrong way, especially after Nick had already pushed him to his limit. Her partner was going to be a problem if he didn’t quit that protective bullshit with Gabby. The tidal wave of revelations that hit him one after another was stripping him raw, pouring salt on a wound that never healed right. He was powerless to stop the confusing emotions tearing at him, and he had no desire to run away from them either.

  “You sure you don’t want me to wait for you?” Gabby’s partner asked.

  “No. Thanks. I have my Pilot.”

  Declan helped Gabby down from the Explorer. Both men’s eyes clashed in an unwavering challenge.

  “Knock it off with the alpha male posturing, you two,” Gabby groaned. “Dec, can you fish my key from my messenger bag?”

  Grabbing her purse and his duffel from the back seat, Declan pushed the SUV door closed as Kelso grunted his “Later.”

  Gabby lived in a gated apartment complex in Hawthorne. There was no guard at the gates, but the equipment seemed to be the latest in multi-home security.

  “Beverly Hills’s not your thing?”

  “No.” She winced.

  “Want me to carry you?”

  “Hell no.”

  Declan bit back a retort. This was not his sweet Gabrielle. That girl was gone, and a part of him ached at that loss. They continued their slow walk to the wide steps that led to her second level unit. Gabby limped up the steps, putting her weight on the hand holding the banister. She had bruised ribs and hips, and when she nearly face-planted in the middle of the staircase, Declan had witnessed enough and took over. He secured his duffel on his back and swept her up in his arms.

  “Put me down!”

  “Shut it, Gabby.”

  “How dare you!” She had the sense not to struggle and risk sending them tumbling down the steps.

  “Which unit is yours?”

  “I can walk.”

  “Which one, goddammit!”

  “Two-twelve.”

  “Thank you.”

  When they got to her apartment, he lowered her to her feet and opened the door. Gabby quickly turned off the alarm and moved into the kitchen.

  “There are drinks in the refrigerator. I may take a while to gather my things.”

  Declan ignored her plan to blow him off. They needed to get a few things straight. He looked around. Gabby Woodward was a minimalist. Her furniture had simple lines, all wood frames with olive green canvas cushions, almost like seventies type furniture. There were no plants in the house, no clutter on the coffee table. A gray area rug beneath it. Magazines were in their racks. No photographs.

  What happened to the woman who couldn’t wait to frame their Vegas wedding pictures and display them on the mantel? He passed her kitchen. At least there were dirty dishes in the sink and she still cooked. His Gabby liked to cook.

  His Gabby?

  Shit.

  He followed her where she disappeared down the hallway. T
hree bedrooms. Yeah. This wouldn’t work for all of them. He could imagine Theo’s horror if he was forced to live here. Though it would do the kid some good to experience simplicity.

  As a private military contractor, Declan lived without fear, without a care for his own life, and in search of the next adrenaline rush, but at this moment, there was a rattling anxiety at facing a seventeen-year-old boy.

  He heard a curse and a thump from the last bedroom on the right. As he made the turn, he saw Gabby with a suitcase on the bed.

  “Let me help—”

  “I can manage!”

  “I know, but you should have waited for me,” he replied calmly.

  “What? So you can gloat how the mighty has fallen? It’s my choice you know,” she said bitterly. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you pity me.”

  Anger flared inside him. “Pity? Pity is the last thing I’m feeling. Try guilt.”

  “Don’t,” she bit out, her face crumpling. “I don’t want to hear about you and Claudette.”

  Throwing Claudette in his face had gone on long enough. He had to come clean.

  “See,” Declan exhaled deeply. “I didn’t sleep with Claudette.”

  Her eyes widened and then scathing doubt crept into them and she chuckled darkly. “Don’t try to change your story because that’ll be a lie. You’re trying to ease your guilt.”

  “And how about yours, huh? You broke our vows. Slept with another man!” His voice rose as the image of Nick on top of her flashed through his head.

  “I told you I didn’t.”

  “I. Was. There,” he gritted, his breath ragged. “I nearly killed the man. I dragged your almost naked body …” His voice broke off as he squeezed his eyes shut as pieces of that night came back like shards of glass piercing his chest.

  All he saw was red.

  That was the night Declan understood the phrase blinded with rage.

  “Nothing happened, I …” She gripped her head in a sob. “I tried to tell you over and over.”

  “You fucking married him before the ink was even dry on our divorce papers!”

  “It’s my fault, okay? Everything! Happy now? Just please … I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We’re only hurting each other. And my head hurts, dammit.”

  Gabby sank to the bed and sucked in a strangled sob.

  Declan clenched his fists. He wanted to hug her and throttle her at the same time. He ended up doing nothing, just staring at her bowed head. He was frustrated he couldn’t get the truth out of her and was worried he was not helping her concussion by bringing on emotional stress. If the physical pain in his chest was a prelude to what this unfinished business between them was going to bring, he could only imagine what she was feeling in her concussed state.

  He didn’t want that for her.

  Even after all the hurt they’d caused each other, he still hurt when she did.

  “I’ll help you pack, okay?” he said quietly. “Just tell me what clothes you want to bring. And don’t fucking move.”

  “Were you always this bossy?” she grumbled, toeing off her shoes as she scooted back to the headboard, leaning against it. Her eyes drooped.

  “Do you need to take any meds?”

  “I’m good until morning. That damned Bristow shot me up with something,” her voice slurred.

  “I was there. He didn’t. It’s the concussion.” He glanced at the columns of clothes in the closet. “Where are your lounge clothes?”

  “Drawers on the left.”

  “Underwear?”

  “Same. Don’t forget to pack pants and shirts. Hanging right in front of you.”

  “You’re taking it easy remember?”

  Gabby yawned. “Bristow exaggerates. I’m fine.”

  “Uh-huh. You know, you are kind of loopy right now, right?”

  “So tired.” She closed her eyes.

  “Gabby.”

  No response.

  “Gabby!”

  Her eyes shot open and she sat forward. “What?”

  “I need to wake you up every hour.”

  She huffed. “Okay.”

  “It’s probably better to head out tomorrow morning. I’ll lock up.”

  “You’re not sleeping with me.”

  Declan didn’t respond. She was out of it and she fell sideways smack into her pillow, burrowing her face into it. He slipped out his phone and shot a text off to Levi, informing him of the change of plans. He pulled the suitcase off the bed. He could pack tomorrow.

  He stood there staring at his ex-wife, looking so peaceful with a hand tucked under her cheek. His lungs felt raw and his ticker was doing double time with the nameless emotions coursing through him. The ache in his chest felt new yet vaguely familiar.

  “What happened to us?” Declan whispered. When Gabby shifted and a groan escaped her lips, he forced himself to move so he could get her more comfortable. He picked the least revealing pajamas, but she still seemed to favor her sleeping shorts.

  He glanced back at her sleeping form. Maybe, she was fine the way she was?

  What are you afraid of, Roarke? Can’t handle your ex-wife naked?

  Dropping the sleepwear on the mattress, he tried to be as clinical as possible as he repositioned her on the bed. However, the second his fingers undid the first button of her top, feelings from the past reverberated in the present. Of how he felt when he cared for her when she was so tired from a week of filming.

  Fuck.

  His fingers shook as he unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it out from her damned gray pants. He sucked in his breath at the swell of her breasts. They were fuller than he remembered.

  He quickly slipped her tee over her bare skin and dragged her pants over her hips more slowly so as not to wake her. Gabby was dead to the world, and here he was, sweat beading his forehead with the simple task of undressing her.

  Her body had changed, and it was obvious she took care of it by lifting weights. And it seemed she went heavy, judging from her shapely, toned thighs, and firm ass. And she mustn’t have been kidding when she told Levi that she knew kung-fu, even when it sounded tongue-in-cheek.

  His ex-wife was hot as fuck underneath her starched clothes. But more than the physical chemistry that was still apparent between them, he didn’t know what to do with these complicated emotions—scratch that—conflicting emotions that warred inside him.

  Declan should despise her, but admiration was winning out, for Gabby forging her own path after they divorced, for taking on a male-dominated profession. And yet he was saddened at the colorless life outside her job if the contents of her house and her closet were his yardstick.

  But was her life so different from his own?

  She mumbled a protest when he moved her under the covers. Heading out to the living room to pick up his duffle, he made sure everything was locked up for the night. Levi responded that Captain Mitchell ordered extra patrols in her neighborhood anyway, and whoever attacked them would be thinking twice about striking again so soon.

  Declan took a quick shower, put on athletic shorts, and threw on a tee which he’d normally forgo at night. But he was sleeping beside Gabby, on top of the covers of course, so she wouldn’t feel so outraged if she woke up in the middle of the night.

  To be sure she didn’t shoot him—accidentally or on purpose—because fuck knows how she felt about him at the moment, he unchambered the round in the Glock that was in her nightstand. He found other guns hidden under the kitchen counter, the hallway bathroom, and the laundry room. Another trait he was having trouble reconciling from the wife he left behind.

  Seventeen years was a long time, and people did change.

  He set his phone to alert him every hour so he could wake her up.

  Then he crawled into bed and slept beside his ex-wife.

  6

  Gabby stared at the rumpled bed covers. A sign that she, indeed, had slept beside her ex-husband last night. She recalled getti
ng annoyed hearing the alarm that roused her every hour, the tapping on her shoulder, if not the shaking. A voice, sometimes cajoling, sometimes stern, and sometimes sexy, forced her to respond.

  Speaking of sexy, her cheeks flamed at the idea that Declan undressed her. He left her bra and panties on her though. Her skin still smelled of hospital antiseptic. Not to mention her mouth was dry and she could imagine what it smelled like—sewer on a humid summer day. Horrified at the thought, she bolted out of bed. Her concussion reminded her why that was a bad idea.

  The room tilted and her sore ribs crashed against the dresser, the pain so sharp, she couldn’t even utter a sound. Her hands gripped its edges, thankful she didn’t hit her head again, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Gabby’s gaze dropped to the glass, keys, and medicine bottles scattered on the carpet. Did she knock them off? Geez, she was more disoriented than she first thought.

  “What are you doing?” A calm voice asked from the doorway.

  There stood a version of her ex-husband she couldn’t connect to the nineteen-year-old boy she’d known. He was leaning against the doorframe, one foot crossed over an ankle, arms folded over his chest, biceps bulging, observing her struggle to straighten up, but doing nothing to help her. His eyes were guarded, his mouth tight. Declan of seventeen years ago had packed on maybe twenty pounds of muscle. No trace of the young man she used to know remained. He was broader, seemed taller, and there was nothing safe about him. At least that was what her cop’s instincts were yelling at her.

  “Trying to get to the bathroom.”

  His eyes flashed with frustration and he stalked into the room.

  Gabby took an unsteady step back, and when he reached out to her, she put a hand up.

  “Don’t—”

  “Christ, Gabby, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

  “Didn’t think you would.”

  “I was just going to help you. Don’t want you to fall and hit your head again,” he growled. “Like you almost did.”

  “I’m fine!”

  He moved closer.