The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(42)

And he’d won a fight against Antonio Aguiler.

That, in and of itself, was impressive.

“So he didn’t kill him.”

Simmons frowned. “He didn’t save him either. That’s part of the job too, Juliet.”

“But you can’t think his death was Hank’s fault. Caesar killed him. His own brother…” She grimaced at the thought. The man had no loyalties whatsoever - unless they involved money and personal gain. “He’s a monster.”

“Yes, he is.” Simmons agreed with her without hesitation. “But Hank’s job description goes beyond vendettas, Juliet. He was supposed to protect Antonio until we got results. We weren’t nearly finished with him.” His expression grew grave. “In this line of work, you can’t pick and choose your loyalties. You either do the whole job or don’t do it at all. There is no in between.”

Juliet wanted to defend him. Hank had just as much of a vendetta against the Aguilers as she did - asking him to take emotion out of the equation was impossible...But he was the one who had decided to do this. Not that it was any of her business, but if she had to see Hank putting his life in danger, she’d feel better if he were doing it with a level head on his shoulders.

Sighing, she rose from the table herself. There was a headache brewing at the back of her neck, and she wanted to make sure Hank wasn’t destroying the back of the house. “I don’t envy you guys, Simmons.”

The older man snorted in sour amusement. “No one in their right mind does.”



Juliet honestly didn’t know which was harder: tiptoeing around Hank when they’d been at one another’s throats or trying to avoid the urge to creep into his bed at every opportunity. Of course, one of them was there to do a job, and Hank executed his duties in the typical fashion. Another interview with her meant more information the government had to process - and that meant that, ultimately, Hank would set out on another mission to get in with the Aguilers.

But, before all that, he cursed and whined over paperwork over their miniscule kitchen table and railed at Crowley and Bosh anytime they dared to interrupt him.

It was clear to Juliet now that, not only did neither of the younger men like Hank, they were intimidated as hell by him. Whether that was because they really thought that he killed Antonio Aguiler or for other reasons entirely, she couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that they snuck around him like inciting the man’s attention would mean their heads...and she supposed they weren’t entirely wrong.

Just because she and Hank had agreed that there was no point to resisting the heat between them didn’t mean that things were suddenly all sunshine and roses. Hank was still Hank - which meant he was prone to outbursts and frustrated tirades - mostly when he was talking to Simmons. But Juliet found that she didn’t quite mind as much as she used to. Now, when Hank snapped at her, it was almost worth it for the stammered apologies he offered her when the day was over.

Or the way he merely thrust a beer in her general direction to make amends.

It wasn’t as if she had many overt examples of romance to compare his intentions to. Even before she’d known that Solomon meant to own her, she had always considered his extravagant overtures more convenient than flattering. At least when Hank went out of his way to do things for her, she knew that even the small gestures meant something. Nothing about Hank Compton was ever ingenuine - for better or worse.

After her most recent bout of questioning, the man was sullen for a good few days - far longer than she herself liked to linger over the details of the past. When Juliet woke up at night in a cold sweat, she did her best to forget her dreams. No good could come of lingering on them. But Hank...Hank was a different matter altogether...which was why it was probably better that he kept his promise to her sooner rather than later.

About a week and a half after Simmons’ last visit, Hank tossed his phone on the couch after another impromptu call. From what Juliet could hear, they’d been arguing about Bosh and Crowley’s attentiveness in the event of Hank’s absence. Juliet thought the two did about as well as could be expected at their job - they were in the middle of nowhere; and the more time passed without a visit from Solomon and his henchman, the more she wondered if they were actually looking for her. According to Simmons, they might have bigger fish to fry in the wake of the family feud between father and son.

Juliet knew it would do her no good to be lulled into a sense of false security, but Hank seemed so righteously involved in the prospect of keeping her from harm that it was easy to relax around him. Bosh and Crowley probably meant well, but they were far more lax than their colleague.

Juliet watched Hank stalk out onto the porch to light yet another cigarette and found herself caught somewhere between amusement and worry. Sometimes, she wished there was more she could do. Really, all she did was lounge around the house all day while Hank carried out Simmons’ orders and made sure everything was copacetic with Bosh and Crowley. Though she knew it wasn’t her job, she found that, more often than not, she felt idle. But what the hell was she supposed to do when she couldn’t even shoot a gun properly?

After a moment’s hesitation, Juliet joined Hank on the back porch. For a moment, she marveled at how good the man looked in his ragged jeans and tank-top, tattooed arms flexing in the midday sunlight. She thought she had always appreciated a man in a suit, but Hank seemed ten times more male than his suited counterparts.