Caballo Security Box Set

by Camilla Blake

  “How about an hour in my bed?” someone else called, followed by laughter.

  Really wasn’t what I wanted to do today.

  “Just a few more,” the photographer told me as he came over to adjust a thick strand of my hair.

  I tried to keep it up, but I could feel the muscles in my face just refusing to do what they were told. Who lies down in front of their old school, anyway? And in the wet grass? In white? The whole thing was ridiculous, and I just wanted to get out of there!

  When the photographer finally snapped his last picture, I rolled onto my knees. Akker was there immediately, holding out a hand to help me up.

  “You look tired,” he said.

  “You try sleeping knowing there’s some crazy person out to blow you into a million pieces.”

  “I’ve told you, we’ll get him.”

  “Have the police made any progress on Lloyd and Harry?”

  Akker didn’t have to say anything. I could see the answer on his face.

  He walked me to the SUV parked at the curb, waiting to take us to the next location. I slid across the leather seat and rested my head against the cold glass of the window for a long moment.

  “We need to touch you up,” Femi said, coming around to kneel in front of me.

  “Can’t we wait until the next stop?”

  “We’re going to the River Walk. It’s probably better to do it before we’re immersed in that crowd.”

  I nodded, sitting up straighter so that she could have access to my face. Akker sat in the front passenger seat, watching us in the mirror hidden in the visor. I don’t know if he knew I knew what he was doing, but I could see his eyes moving over my face in the reflection. When he came to the safe house three days ago and told me about Harry and Lloyd, I wanted to believe he was making some sort of sick joke. But I already had this sense of him and knew that wasn’t something he would do. Then I wanted to be sick. Harry and Lloyd were the worst bodyguards anyone could ever hire, but they were human beings and they’d been part of my entourage for years. I couldn’t believe they were gone just like that.

  It wasn’t until I made the call to Danny that it began to really sink in. When it did, the motive for the murders chilled me clear to the bone.

  I wanted to go home. I wanted to forget this whole media campaign, even my contract with the damn studio, and go home. But then I began to wonder if I’d be any safer there. The threats had begun when I was at home.

  The only thing that made me feel safe was Akker.

  “When does Danny arrive?” Femi asked.

  “Tonight. He had to fly to Minnesota to pick up his sister, but he’ll be here tonight to make arrangements for his nephews.”

  Femi sighed as she dusted powder over my face with a thick brush. “I can’t believe Lloyd and Harry are gone.”

  “Neither can I.”

  “Will you go to the funeral?”

  “Probably, if we’re done here in time.”

  Femi dropped her brush into the case she carried all her makeup around in, pulling out a tube of red lipstick. She smeared it on my bottom lip and encouraged me to smack before she climbed up onto the seat. She slipped her hand through mine, holding it tight.

  “It’s going to be okay. They’ll find out who did it.”

  “That’s what everyone keeps saying.”

  I lifted a hand to brush at my hair, but remembered at the last second that they’d spent more than an hour curling it this morning. It was so stiff with hairspray that I probably couldn’t do anything to hurt it, but I didn’t want to take the chance. The last thing I wanted to do was give anyone a reason to delay the end of this day a second more.

  The driver came and we headed out. We were less than a mile into a fifteen-minute drive when Akker’s phone rang. He yanked it out of his pocket and answered without glancing at the screen. I could see by the expression that came over his handsome face that he wished he had looked.

  “Not right now,” he said in a low, hushed voice. “I’m working.” He listened a moment, his expression clear as day in that mirror he’d been using to peek at me, but which was now giving away his secrets. “I understand that, Marnie, but I told you the other day that I already paid the bill. Have the school call me if there’s still an issue.”

  He disconnected, glancing up at the mirror as he did. Our eyes met for a long second. Without a word, he closed the visor and turned his head toward the window, clearly done looking at me.

  The River Walk was crowded, as usual. Tourists were gathered around the stairs that led under the street to the wide path that ran along each side of the San Antonio River. We sat in the SUV for nearly half an hour, waiting for a break in the foot traffic so that we could get down to the river with all our equipment. Then we waited another forty minutes while the photographer and his crew set up the lights and the props they needed to do the shoot. I was the last thing they needed down there. No chance of the talent sitting around at some fancy restaurant having a drink or two while they set up. I had to hide inside a stuffy vehicle.

  Being a celebrity really wasn’t what everyone made it out to be.

  The photographer had picked a spot a little away from the restaurants and shops that was part of the attraction to the area, where some artist had created a lovely mural on a cinder block wall. A crowd gathered almost the instant we began. The walkway was narrow, especially when dozens of people suddenly began pushing their way closer to us. I was standing against this gorgeous mural in a white suit with a gauzy cardigan that hid almost nothing of the thin, silk baby-doll top that was sticking to my skin because of the humidity. I felt almost naked from the waist up, aware that my discomfort was showing itself in the stiffness of certain erectile tissues, making me feel even more visible, more vulnerable.

  “Can we reduce the crowd a little?” the photographer asked as I shaded my eyes from the harsh lights. Almost at the same moment, someone knocked into one of the expensive lamps and it nearly fell right on the top of my head.

  “Get back!” someone cried.

  A scream made me turn, and that was quickly followed by another. People were pushing their way into the small pocket of space we’d carved out for the photo shoot, trying to get to me, as I tried to get out of the way, tried to resist the crowd. Whatever their reasons, it seemed like the entire mob was coming right toward me.

  A hand on my arm pulled me free of the crowd, yanking me in the opposite direction of the chaos. I nearly tripped on the wide cuffs of my slacks, but I ran, simply grateful to get out of that mess. We rushed across the walkway, finally slowing down as we hit another crowd of people outside a hotel that opened up right onto the River Walk. A hand slid into mine and a hat came down on my head. I looked up, not surprised to find Akker at my side, a calm expression on his face like we were simply more tourists, not escapees of a mob.

  The River Walk goes in several directions, the most popular section winding from the River Walk Center and along a route that includes multiple restaurants and shops, as well as hotels, but then it has a section or two that have little to see, just the river. Akker took me down one of these lesser-used routes to a place where a picturesque concrete portico spread out beside the river, leading up to the street level via beautiful white stone steps.

  The best part of it was that there was almost no one there.

  “That was insane!” I cried, throwing myself down on a bench as I tried to catch my breath.

  “Whose bright idea was it to have a photo shoot at the number one tourist location in the middle of the afternoon at the height of tourist season?”

  “That’s a good question.” I removed the hat he’d plopped on my head, giggling a little hysterically when I realized it was a souvenir hat that he must have plucked from a display at one of the many shops we’d passed. “No wonder I got a few strange looks.”

  “Better they thought you were an eccentric tourist than recognized you for who you really are.”

  “I never realized just how well known I
was until this week. It seems I’ve been recognized everywhere I’ve gone. I don’t get that so much in Los Angeles.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “You should. It’s the truth.”

  Akker sat beside me and leaned back, his legs so long that they just seemed to go everywhere. I watched him, admiring the way his jeans fit snug against his legs, the way they seemed to show off the best of everything about his athletic build. There was something about a man in jeans that always got me going a little. I liked a man in a good tailored suit, don’t get me wrong, but there was something about the cut of jeans that just made a man look especially hot.

  “You okay? No one touched you?”

  I forced my eyes up to his face, just as blown away by his handsome features as I always was. “I’m good.”

  “We’ll just hang out here for a few minutes, then I’ll text my guy and have him bring the car around.”

  “What will we do in the meantime?”

  He shrugged his strong shoulders as he pressed his hands against his thighs. I found myself staring at them, the way he spread his fingers, the length and grace of those hands. I could imagine they were capable of almost anything, the idea of them on my skin making me blush a little as my imagination went places it probably shouldn’t have.

  “Are you hungry? Can I get you something to drink?”

  I shook my head, forcing my eyes up to his face again. “Do you mind if I ask who was on the phone earlier? It sounded… tense.”

  He sat up a little, tension coming in the form of fine lines on his face. “That was my delightful ex-wife.”

  “Did you forget an alimony payment or something?” I asked, half joking.

  “No. There was an issue with my kid’s school tuition. She felt the need to put her nose in it, as she does with just about anything.”

  “You have a kid?”

  “A daughter. Josie.”

  For some reason, that shocked the hell out of me. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to picture a female version of Akker running around in the world somewhere. I couldn’t quite get my imagination to do it.

  “I told you; my life got complicated back in high school.”

  “You mean the girl you and Brock fought over?”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed the top of his head with his palm, his eyes skirting over me almost like he was afraid to meet my gaze. “Brock’s dating this girl and she comes on to me. Fifteen years old and she already knows how to manipulate a guy with just a few quiet words and the right amount of visible skin…” He shook his head. “I never thought I was that guy, but I guess I am.”

  “You were just a kid, too.”

  “She was my brother’s girl. I told myself it was only once, you know? Told myself that no one would ever have to know. But then she comes to me—while preparing to go to a school dance with Brock—and says she’s pregnant. Wants to know what I’m going to do about it. I asked if it was mine and she hit me harder than any man could ever do.” He chuckled a little. “I probably deserved that one, too.”

  “I don’t know. It seems it might have been reasonable to think it might be Brock’s.”

  “They hadn’t done anything at that point. Hell, I knew that, too. Brock wasn’t shy about these things, you know?” He shook his head again. “I gave her money for an abortion. She used it to buy prenatal vitamins. Didn’t even tell me she hadn’t gone through with it until three months later, when she had dumped Brock and was packing for cheer camp. Like everything was perfectly normal, like it was every day that a sophomore got pregnant.”

  I thought of the girl who’d gotten pregnant at my high school during freshman year, all the things people said about her. And then the two girls who got pregnant over the summer, the four who were pregnant sophomore year. Things were changing, but teen pregnancy would always be a constant in our world, I was afraid.

  “When school started again the next fall, she was six months pregnant and undeniably showing, her belly big and round and impossibly huge. Everyone assumed it was Brock’s, except, of course, Brock. Marnie, however, didn’t have any qualms about admitting to the truth. She told anyone who’d listen that it was mine and when that got back to Brock… I lost my brother because I’d kept my mouth shut and pretended it was all going to go away.”

  “You were a kid,” I reminded him again, touching his arm. “Kids like to think that if you ignore a problem, it will go away.”

  Akker was quiet for a long time. When he finally seemed to remember I was there, he forced a smile as he looked at me. “I got the greatest gift out of it, though, so it wasn’t all bad.”

  I returned his smile. “Having a daughter must be an adventure.”

  “She stole my heart the moment she was born.” He sighed. “Marnie’s parents kicked her out, and mine… well, they didn’t really notice, I don’t think. But I felt responsible for her, so we moved in together. I dropped out of school to help pay expenses. After a few months, though, we couldn’t be in the same room more than five minutes without fighting. I tried to make it work, but maybe it was just too much. We were too young.”

  “You said you were married for eight months.”

  “We got married right before I went into the marines, but she moved on while I was gone. Met herself an auto mechanic who fit her bill better than I did.” His smile was a little genuine this time. “Saved me years of heartache, I think, if her other marriages are anything to go by.”

  “Other marriages?”

  “Marnie’s been married four times. Including me.”

  “Wow.”

  He shrugged. “She does better each time. This current one is a doctor and he seems to treat her well.”

  “Do you spend much time with your daughter?”

  “Yeah. She comes to stay with me twice a month. And I get Christmas Eve every year.”

  “That’s good.”

  He rolled his shoulders. “Not what I imagined when she was tiny, but it works.”

  “I can’t imagine you with a baby on your knee.”

  “Why not? Josie loved it when I bounced her around!”

  I laughed, the image coming more into focus than before. My mind wanted to see a blond baby for some reason, despite the fact that Akker was dark-haired. But I could see him with a blond baby on his knee, the little girl laughing and bouncing around, holding on to his arm like her life depended on it. It was a sweet image.

  “I bet you’re a great dad.”

  “I don’t know about great, but…” He glanced at me. “You ever think about having babies?”

  “Sometimes. I’d like to, when I find the right guy to be a dad to them.”

  “When you were with Brock, did you think about it then?”

  The funny thing was, I hadn’t thought about Brock—not like that—in days. I’d thought that spending time with Akker, someone who looked so much like him, would put Brock in my mind all the time. But he wasn’t. Now that I knew Akker a little better, I saw him as a separate person from his twin brother. As much as they seemed to look alike at first, they couldn’t have been more different now.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “I don’t buy that.”

  “You seem to think I’m quite the liar today, don’t you? That’s the second time you didn’t believe something I said.”

  “I don’t think you’re a liar, but I think you like to hide your true feelings sometimes, especially when you think you’re going to upset someone, or look weak. We all do that.”

  “Maybe I’m trying to impress you.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “If you have to ask, then you don’t know much about women.”

  He chuckled, but it was less filled with amusement than surprise. He might have blushed if he weren’t so afraid to show vulnerability. Instead, he got up and pulled out his phone, messing with the screen for a long minute.

  “Time to go?” I asked.

  He came over and held out a hand to me. I let him pull me to
my feet, but I didn’t let go of his hand. I moved into him, just inches from his chest, my heart pounding as I felt the heat of him against my bare skin. I pressed my hands to his chest, sliding them slowly up against his pecs. I could feel the curve of his muscles, the hardness of a man who took exceptional care of himself. Everything about him seemed to envelop me—his scent, his strength, his masculinity. It made my knees weaken a little, my muscles shake.

  His hand slid from mine and up my arm, sliding under the billowy sleeves of the thin cardigan. His palm was warm, callused. The hand of a man who worked for a living.

  My daddy would approve.

  I tilted my face up to his, wasn’t surprised to find him looking down at me. Our eyes met for a long moment, his hazel eyes looking deep into my blue ones. His lips seemed to swell slightly as he studied me. It was only a heartbeat before he moved into me, his lips brushing softly against mine. It wasn’t a kiss, really, but it felt like one. He brushed his lips against mine again and again, my entire soul suddenly aching to taste him, to feel the pressure of his lips on mine. And when he finally did kiss me properly, a kiss that was a kiss to beat all kisses, my bones turned to liquid.

  He held me up with his arms around my waist, drawing me as close to him as he could get me. And that kiss… that heavenly kiss! He didn’t even have to ask to get me to open to him. I’d been thinking about the possibility of this kiss from the moment he rescued me from that bomb on the first night we met. Maybe even before that. I was going to enjoy every bit of it.

  His hands slipped under the gauze of my cardigan, sliding along the back of my silk baby-doll. I wrapped my arms around his neck, afraid if I let go, I wouldn’t be able to stand on my own feet. I felt his hand slide down over the seat of my slacks and I knew I wanted this to go as far as it could, wanted to feel every inch of him while he felt every inch of me.

  I forgot where we were. Voices came close, laughter cutting through the cocoon of sensuality his kiss had pulled me into. He pulled away so suddenly that it almost felt like he’d ripped a scab from a deep wound.

  “The car should be here,” he said, his voice deep and troubled. “We should go.”