Made Marian, Volume One by Lucy Lennox
Prologue - Jude
I should have known the man guarding me that night was an idiot by his nickname alone. Brick. As in, “Dumb as a.” He was just the latest in a long string of celebrity babysitters whose main job was to look intimidating to any overzealous fan who wanted a piece of me.
We left the dance club that night through the back entrance. Normally, my bodyguard would alert the driver before we walked out of the building so the car was waiting for us. In this case, Brick hadn’t bothered. He was too busy trying to make up with his multiple girlfriends over the phone to be able to use the device for something as mundane as keeping me safe.
Once we exited into the dark alley and found no town car waiting, I took matters into my own hands, texting Carl to bring the car to the rear door of the club. Brick gave me a slight chin tilt of appreciation and wandered farther away to get some privacy while he kissed some ass over the phone.
That’s when the three guys jumped me. They came out of nowhere. One minute I was standing there waiting for the car and the next I was knocked to the ground, greedy fingers reaching into pockets and meaty hands shoving my face into the pavement. A sharp knee drove into my back and a booted foot caught me in the hip. Motherfucking assholes.
It was over almost as quickly as it began. Three figures running into the night, past a shocked Brick who stood there gaping like an idiot.
Just then, Carl brought the car around. Would arriving one minute sooner have killed him? Jesus. I struggled to stand up, but my body rejected the idea. Never mind. I’d just lay there instead.
Once Brick had come to his senses, he’d admitted noticing those three guys eyeing me in the club earlier but had thought they were harmless. It was like the man had the instincts of a jellyfish.
A couple of days later, when I was patched up and over my initial shock, I paid a visit to my security company. The owner of On Your Six, Joel Healy, had the rare opportunity to be on the receiving end of my anger.
I never got angry. Ever. But I’d also never been jumped in an alley. Since the attack, I was easily spooked. If anyone walked into a room unexpectedly, I jumped or squeaked like a child. The fear left me feeling fragile and vulnerable which pissed me the hell off.
After screaming at Joel for assigning Brick in the first place, I demanded he get serious about assigning me someone permanent I could rely on to watch my back.
“Joel, he saw the guys watching me, and it didn’t occur to him something was up. What the fuck? I’m paying you to protect me and I end up getting jumped by three men in an alley right in front of my own goddamned bodyguard?” I yelled. “Get me someone reliable and preferably not currently involved in a threesome relationship with the goddamned 49ers cheerleading squad!”
At this point several of the men who worked for Joel had found excuses to walk past the conference room. I’m sure seeing Jude Marian lose his ever-loving shit was something to write home about.
“I hear you, Jude, and I’m on it. I’ve already assigned Brick’s replacement. He’s here right now if you want to meet him. His name is Derek Wolfe and we served in the Marines together. He’s the best. The guy was special ops and has a knack for reading faces and body language,” Joel said.
I let out a breath. Special ops. Good. That was reassuring. Not some regular club bouncer type, but a serious soldier who had combat training. Maybe I could go back to getting a full night’s sleep again under the protection of someone like that.
“Okay. Let’s meet him,” I said, standing up.
Joel led me to the gym in the back of the warehouse office. Several men and women were there working out on the equipment and music pumped from somewhere in the room.
“Hey, guys,” Joel called into the space. “Has anyone seen Wolfe?”
“Locker room,” one man called back.
We headed to the locker room to find him. And boy did we find him.
The man was standing at a bench in front of his locker. Imagine the picture-perfect example of a Marine - towering height, muscles bulging everywhere, covered in tattoos and combat scars. This man was all of those things with one exception. His skin was pristine. There wasn't a single mark or scar that I could see. And I could see a lot. Miles and miles of lightly tanned skin, still wet from the shower and barely covered by the tiny towel at his hips.
Derek Wolfe was six and a half feet of pure delicious sex appeal. His body was a chiseled rock face and I wanted nothing more than to climb to the top.
Oh shit.
This was going to be a problem.
“Derek Wolfe, this is Jude Marian,” Joel said. “Jude, this is Derek.”
The man’s face lit up in a sexy smirk as he reached out a hand to shake. This wasn’t happening.
Get a grip, Jude. Jesus.
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I hear your new tour starts in a few days. Don’t worry. I’m not going to let you out of my sight for the next six months.”
