at the front had been small. Discrete. The interior went along with that discrete elegance appeal. Leather chairs. A killer view of the city.
When she’d asked Chance what the VJS stood for…he’d explained the letters were initials. V for Valentine, his last name. J for the last name of Jensen, one of his partners, and then S for the last name of his other partner, Devlin Shade.
She knew Chance was catering to upper-end clientele. In that city, the rich and famous were always ready to hire some protection…and Chance was looking to be that protection.
She sat huddled in the leather chair across from his desk. She had ash on her clothes. Soot on her hands. The fire fighters had fought the blaze while she’d just watched—helplessly—as Chance’s home went up in flames.
With everything else that had happened that night, she sure didn’t buy that fire as being an accident. His home going up in flames hadn’t been some terrible coincidence. There was no way her luck was that bad. And if it wasn’t coincidence…
Then Chance’s home burned because of me. Because some crazy jerk watched us leave my apartment and followed us to Chance’s home.
The door opened behind her, the faint sound reaching her ears and causing Gwen to instantly jump to her feet. She whirled for the door. “Chance, I’m so sorry, I—”
Chance wasn’t standing there. A tall, handsome blond man was. A man she’d never met before.
He smiled at her. The sight was hardly reassuring. Smiles were
supposed
to be reassuring. But, somehow, when this guy smiled, his face went from handsome…to oddly dangerous.
There is something so wrong with that.
He was a big guy, close to Chance’s height and with a similar build, and when the man walked toward her, he used that same easy glide that Chance had.
“Ms. Hawthorne? My name is Lex Jensen and I’m one of Chance’s partners here at the agency.”
Right. He was the “J” in VJS Protection.
Lex offered his hand to her. His eyes—a dark shade of green, much darker than her own—swept over her.
Gwen knew she was supposed to take his offered hand. Normal people shook hands. It was just that she was feeling pretty far from normal right at that moment. Still, Gwen made herself take his hand. Like Chance, the guy had a rough edge of calluses on his fingers. She knew those calluses—at least Chance’s—came from his workout routine. A routine he’d perfected during his time in the military.
Was this guy ex-military, too?
“You’ve had quite a night,” Lex murmured. He didn’t let her hand go. “I’m very sorry for what you’ve been through.”
She tugged her hand free. The last thing she wanted to do was get handsy with Chance’s friend. Especially after what she and Chance had done at his place.
Done…almost done
? Gwen cleared her throat. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Chance lost his home tonight.”
“Homes can be replaced. You can’t. I’m sure Chance would tell you the same thing.”
Gwen thought she caught the faintest edge of an accent in his voice. A hint of the south? Maybe, it was hard to say for certain.
“I was the person Chance sent to do a sweep at your apartment after you left.”
The door opened behind him. Chance strode inside. Gwen couldn’t help it. She tensed at the sight of him. Like her, ash darkened his clothes. A smear of soot lined his right cheekbone. That man had gotten her out of the fire. He’d risked his life for her. And what had she done?
I brought danger to his door.
Hardly a fair exchange.
Lex glanced at Chance, then back at Gwen. “I was just updating Ms. Hawthorne about what I found at her apartment.”
“Gwen,” she murmured automatically. “Just call me Gwen.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Lex nod. She should look at him, fully, but Gwen was too focused on Chance. And Chance seemed just as focused on her. He strode across the room. Came right to her. He peered down at her with that intent, focused gaze of his.