The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(50)

But if he was going straight for Solomon, that meant that the operation was almost over. That his time with Juliet was almost over.

Hank felt oddly conflicted.

He’d been waiting for this his entire life. It was a shot at the man who had almost been the end of him - a specter who’d haunted his fucking dreams since he was a kid. But now, he almost wished he could stall for a few more weeks.

Because of his damned ex-lover.

Hank couldn’t decide what was more ironic: That another woman had dropped into his life that once stood at the side of the man he hated the most, or, somehow, that he understood said woman more deeply than he had any other.

Wanted her life to be everything she dreamed and more.

He really was a fucking basket case.

“Hank?” Juliet caught him unawares with his beer in front of a TV show he hadn’t really been watching. His muscles burned from a bodyweight workout earlier that day, and when he started, he cursed lowly.

It was almost worth it to see that mischievous little smile. “What’s up?” He finally grunted, doing his best not to take in her delights in the form-fitting jeans and t-shirt she wore. She’d been in her room all day, and, somehow, he’d resisted the urge to barge his way in and confine her even further to her bed.

The woman had cast some ungodly spell over him.

“How’d things go with Simmons? Did you talk about Crowley?” She came to plop down next to him on the couch and he reflexively pulled her against him to run his fingers through her fluffy curls. They were still damp from the shower and she smelled like heaven. It was enough to prevent him from getting pissed at the very mention of Crowley’s name.

“Yeah. He tried to get me fired, which I expected. But I got off easy. I’ll have a week of suspension after I finish this case, which is fine by me. Been meaning to take a fucking vacation.” When Simmons had raised the issue with him, he seemed more amused than anything else. If anything, he had to realize as much as Hank how moody Crowley was. He needed a few more years under his belt and the stick pulled out of his ass.

“So...where will you go once you leave here?” He loved that she leaned against him without hesitation. That she traced the lines of his bare, tattooed arms lackadaisical, completely unafraid of the tough exterior he showed to the world.

And blissfully unaware of how goddamned easily she’d worked her way beneath it.

“No fucking clue.” He mused, concentrating less on the team losing on TV and more on the woman nestled against him. Truth be told, he’d rather not think about what happened after this was all over. At least, not now. Not when she was so warm, soft and real against him.

Who the hell needed depressing shit at a time like this? “Probably somewhere sunny and tropical.”

“Mmm.”Juliet hummed her approval. “Sounds nice.” She was silent a beat before speaking again, in a much softer tone. “Maybe I’ll come with you.”

Hank’s heart stuttered in his chest. Though he knew she had to be talking out of her ass, he couldn’t deny (at least to himself), that the prospect was more than a little appealing to him. He’d never been one who liked to lay out on beaches and drink fruity shit out of coconuts, but watching Juliet do it? Watching the smile on her pretty face as she lived, free and clear, for the first time in her young life?

That was fucking tempting. As tempting as it was impossible.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he changed the subject, unwilling to indulge the warmth in his belly. “Probably for the last time.”

Juliet immediately stiffened. “So...you’re going after Solomon, then?”

“Thanks to the info you’ve given us, we’ve been able to move up the schedule. That and I’ve probably got enough street cred at this point to get in with him personally and take the bastard down.” He swallowed thickly. “Meaning you’ll be able to live your life without looking over your shoulder.”

“And we leave here. Both of us.” She replied, her tone carefully neutral. Straightening, Juliet looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “It’s kind of hard to believe.” Hank had to assume she was talking about her own situation, even though she was looking at him.

“Believe it, Julie. We’re almost there.” Why the hell didn’t he feel better saying that? “What are you gonna do. You’ll be free and clear - you can go anywhere. Do anything.”

“I think...I want to sing again.” Hank arched a brow in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to answer so quickly.

“Really? You’re going to go for it.”

“I never really found out what it was like to get by on my own steam, and singing’s what I’m good at. Might as well stick to my strengths, right?”

“Fuck yeah.” He didn’t even hesitate. “Your voice is amazing...not that you’ve let me hear as much of it as I’d like.” He was half-joking. If Hank ever wanted to hear Juliet’s amazing pipes, all he had to do was sneak by her room and eavesdrop on her practicing. When she wasn’t with him or playing Bond outside, she was almost always in her room, turning simple guitar riffs into poetry.

But, for some reason, she never wanted to sing in front of him - and he’d all but driven her up the wall asking. “I wrote a song.”

Her admission caught him so off guard that, for a moment, Hank thought he must have misheard her. “You...wrote a song?” Juliet was usually very private about her music. It only took her catching him flipping through her notebooks once before said notebooks disappeared from her desktop.