Billionaire Bodyguard - Kendra Mei Chailyn

BROTHERHOOD PROTECTORS

Billionaire Bodyguard

Kendra Mei Chailyn

Sometimes, being your brother’s keeper is a trap…

Tianna Sharp’s brother did a bad thing.

Now he’s dead, leaving her holding the bag. When the danger comes to her doorstep, Tianna goes to the only man she knows can help her and the last man she knows will want to. Montana isn’t happy to see her, but she doesn’t really have a choice.

It was supposed to be simple enough—find out who is after Tianna and handle the problem. But the moment Maksim “Hermes” Demidov meets Tianna he knows immediately there won’t be anything simple about any of this—especially where his body and heart are concerned.

But he must keep his hands to himself—she’s nothing but trouble. Usually, Maksim takes it all in stride, but Tianna’s type of trouble, he can do without.

To make matters worse, Tianna’s brother has brought back a mistake from the Brotherhood Protectors’ past and if Maksim isn’t not careful, it could burn their world to the ground.

Tianna Sharp

Whenever my brother did bad things, I suffered. Our parents were killed in an accident in Canada years before and I felt it was my responsibility to protect him from everything. Most often than not, he walked into bad situations as if he was invincible. It was almost like he looked for the worst kind of trouble to ruin his life and mine.

And each time I swore it would be the last time, I realized the only way it would be the last time was if he was dead.

And Joseph Sharp was dead.

His death had left me in a precarious position—one that threatened to kill me as well and I wasn’t okay with that.

Frowning, I zipped my purse closed, strung it over my shoulder and descended the elevator of the office building I owned. I’d remained behind to field a call from an international client.

It had taken longer than it should.

The language barrier hadn’t helped.

Strange—the parking lot was completely empty. Eerie wasn’t the word I would use to describe it, but my mind was exhausted from the length of my day. Still, I stopped long enough to remove the mace from my purse, held it tightly in one hand and made my way across the lot to where my car was.

Usually, I parked closer to the door in my reserved spot. But there had been some needed repairs and they were yet to finish the construction.

My stilettos dragged across the asphalt in my haste. My heart slammed inside me as if it was trying to escape.

Fishing my keys from the side of my purse, I quickened my steps toward the vehicle. I hit the remote to kill the alarm and unlock the driver’s side. The lights to the sports car flashed, the vehicle chirped and—

BOOM!

The force of the explosion sent me flying across the parking lot. The heat of it searing my skin and blinding me to the world around. Somewhere during my flight, the keys and mace slipped from my fingers and was lying somewhere in the lot.

My focus was on not letting my skull connect with the ground. I dropped my chin while trying to twist my body to hit on the meaty part of my side. But I failed and made it worse—landing half on my side, half on my back.

I didn’t need a doctor to tell me I’d either bruise or cracked a rib or two.

The arm I’d landed on throbbed and I wiggled my fingers, thankfully I hadn’t broken anything there. My face was on fire and every muscle in my body tightened as if to protect themselves. Pain raged through me, causing me to curl into a ball, as I covered my head with my arms, trying to stop the hurt of debris. Hot pieces fell around me, on me, singing into my skin, making me grit my teeth against the pain.

It wasn’t everyday my car erupted into a ball of fire.

I rolled to my back, gritted my teeth and hauled myself off the ground. Glancing around, I staggered away from what was left of my car, stopping only to grab my purse. Someone was bound to see the flames and called the cops. I couldn’t stay on the scene because they would have questions. I had no answers except that my brother was an idiot who pissed off someone and died before he could tell me what he’d done.

It was always one thing after another with him and this time his screwup was permanent. This time, I was left holding the bag