by Shayla Black
They’re talking about me. Nifty. I don’t care as long as he’s not taking swipes at Amanda and she’s not crying.
Finally, she hangs up and pockets her phone, then turns to me with a frown. “What did you say to him?”
I can’t tell whether she’s angry or shocked. “What I needed to so he’d back the hell off.”
Amanda cocks her head. “Stephen has a strong personality, and most people cave when he confronts them. Thank you.”
She’s happy? “You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry you found yourself in the middle of our argument.”
Butted in, more like. I shouldn’t have. And I don’t want to question why seeing her upset bothered me so much. “It’s fine.” I toss the last few items into my duffel, then pick up my gun case and turn to her again. “I’ll be right back.”
As soon as I secure my luggage in the trunk next to hers, I scan the parking lot, looking for trouble. Thankfully, I don’t see any—yet. But it’s coming. I feel it.
After a quick duck inside, I see Amanda sitting on the edge of the bed, ruffling her sleeping son’s hair. “What do we do now?”
“Find a place to lie low. I’m hoping Trace comes through with a location soon. I’ve barely been on the island for a week, and you’ve been here even less…”
“Other than my drive from the airport and lunch in town yesterday, I haven’t seen much. Sorry I’m not more helpful.”
“We’ll figure something out.” I try to sound as if I’m not worried, but I am. We need to get out of limbo and into hiding before her knife-wielding asshole tracks her down again.
“How did you and Trace meet?”
She’s making small talk, and I don’t mind. “Joe, the guy who’s apartment I’m crashing in, left me a list of places and activities I might like before he left the island on business. He’s hired Trace in the past for some fishing excursions, so I did the same shortly after I arrived. We hit it off, and we’ve gone out for a beer or two since then. He’s a good guy.” I shrug. “You and Nia seem close.”
“We’re working on it. The truth is, I didn’t even know she existed until last November. I knew my dad and our maid had a fling after things between him and my mom fell apart, but that all happened before I was born. Then Stephen and my dad walked into a meeting last November to negotiate a deal with Evan Cook and met Nia, who was his assistant then. About a month later, Stephen told Nia we all share the same father. Until then, she had no idea. At the time, I was too wrapped up with Oliver. After he was born, I really struggled.”
“Difficult birth?”
“Thankfully no. I just wasn’t sure what to do with my life. Barclay made it clear he wasn’t interested in me or our child, and I had no job since he’d fired me.”
“What a bastard.” How or why did she ever think she loved him? She’d been young and probably naive—two things a player like him would relish. Then he’d likely used his position of power to seduce Amanda because she’d been vulnerable. Had she let him because she was really looking for some sort of father figure? Does she still like the idea of an older man being her “daddy”?
I need to hop off this dangerous train of thought.
“Yes, but I…” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter; I was wrong. Then he got arrested, and the press went insane. I tried to get a new job, but no one wanted to hire an assistant who came with so much baggage. Inevitably I ran out of money, and I had to start making hard choices. I had every reason to leave LA, but Stephen helped me financially until I reached the end of my lease. I’m sure that’s why he thinks he can stick his nose in my business. Well, and he’s my big brother. But I just want to start over clean. That’s why I came to Hawaii. I’ve spoken to Nia over the phone for the last couple of months, and she invited me to stay with her until I got settled somewhere. But clearly I can’t. I’m doubting a fresh start is even possible. But don’t worry about the money. I’ll make sure you get paid.”
“We can talk about that later.” Sure, I need the cash, but she’s got a full plate, along with a smorgasbord of problems. I can be patient.
Silence falls, stretching out long and uncomfortably. I reach for my phone.
Maybe I should call the coffee shop I tried the other day. The owner said a lot of active and retired cops frequent his place. It’s possible one of them would be better suited to protect Amanda after our week is up. But I’ve never met any of them. Would someone else really ensure her safety—without taking advantage of her?
I pocket my phone again. Sure, I might like looking at Amanda, but nothing will ever happen between us. She’s ass-deep in problems, and I’m at the tail end of a divorce. Neither of us needs entanglements. But I can keep her safe; I know that. Despite everything, she’s better off with me.
I’m spared the awkwardness between us—most of it because I can’t stop mentally undressing Amanda—when my phone rings. I pluck it free again and read the display with relief. “Trace. Talk to me.”
“I found a place. Amanda can stay there at least another ten days. If no one has found her by then, there’s an option to extend her stay another two weeks.” He tells me it’s a vacation villa right on the Pacific in a gated community. The neighborhood is exclusive and quiet, the beach damn near private. It’s got four bedrooms, three bathrooms. And best of all, Amanda and I can move in this morning. “My…um, friend, Masey, rented it for her vacation, but she’s willing to come crash with me so you two can have it. Come on by so we can give you a tour.”
“That sounds great.” Perfect, in fact. “How soon can we meet you?”
After we negotiate a time, he ends the call and texts me the address. I glance at my watch.
“Trace found somewhere?” she asks.
“Looks like. We’ve got a while before they’ll arrive. You haven’t eaten. Neither have I. If we leave now, we can grab something on the way.”
She glances reluctantly at Oliver. Whatever her faults or sins, she loves her son and would do anything for him. I admire that about her. I can’t not look at her with lust, and I’d be lying if I said she didn’t intrigue me. I want to see the vulnerable woman I first glimpsed, now hidden behind her icy wall, open to me. I want to understand how she came to this point in life. More than anything, I feel compelled to protect her.
“Yeah.” She sighs. “We all need to eat. If Oliver doesn’t soon, he’ll get cranky.”
“You need me to carry him back to the car?”
She looks up at me, those blue eyes somewhere between surprised and grateful. “I would really appreciate that.”
It’s a small task that requires almost no effort, but I suspect the men in her life haven’t been kind to her. Why? She’s made mistakes, sure. But she’s paying for them. And unless something changes, she’ll be paying for them for years to come.
“No problem.” I scan the little apartment to ensure I’ve packed up all my gear. I toss out the rest of last night’s takeout. Joe will appreciate the beer I’m leaving behind. The bedroom and bathroom are about as clean as he left them. I take a minute to jot him a note thanking him and let him know I’ll run his spare key back as soon as I’m able. “Let’s go.”
Without thinking, I hold out my hand to her. She looks at it, then up at me. “You’re not mad anymore?”
“I was never mad.”
“You were. At Nia’s house.”
“No. I was concerned. An intruder is serious.”
“I know.” She looks away. “I’ve never been more terrified in my life.”
And I yelled. She must think I’m an ass. “You were very brave, and you protected your son. You did well.”
She shakes her head. “I got lucky. He tripped in the dark. While he was trying to regain his balance, I kneed him—hard. I was panicked. I screamed and kicked and hit him over the head with a vase.”
“Which tells me you’ll have the guts to defend yourself even more successfully once I teach you some moves.”
“I tried. I wanted to put him
down so the police could arrest him when they came. Even though he bled, like, a lot, the guy got away. The officers who investigated looked at the pool of blood and scolded me for using excessive force.”
Is she serious? “Those officers were idiots. You did what you had to, and I’m glad you didn’t hold back.”
The corners of her lush mouth curl up in a mysterious Mona-Lisa smile. Amanda is beautiful—no question—but that expression takes my fucking breath away.
Bodyguarding her could be decidedly tricky.
Still, I sense almost no one has been in her corner since she got pregnant. I hate to turn my back on her, too. I just need to ignore my sexual urges. I’ve managed to do that for the past few months. What’s another week?
But you’ve never encountered a temptation like her.
Trying to ignore that inconvenient truth, I extend my hand to her again. “You ready to head out now?”
When she slides her hand into mine, the sizzle streaking up my arm isn’t new…but it’s annoyingly stronger. Worse, I have absolutely no control. I’m hyperaware of her softness, her faintly floral scent, and the ping of her gaze at me when her blue eyes fasten on mine.
“Um…sure.” She rises to her feet. “I should get Oliver fed and down for his usual morning nap.”
I clear my throat and force myself to release her. “What about you?”
“I’ll nap when he naps.”
My eyes narrow as I stare at her. “How much did you sleep last night?”
“About two hours. I’ve survived on less. I’ll be fine.”
“No, you need more than a scattered nap or two. You need to be rested and alert, especially in case you need to defend yourself.”
“Well, a twelve-month-old can’t exactly be left to his own devices. Are you going to babysit him?” she asks, pale brow raised in challenge.
“If I need to.”
“Absolutely not.”
This argument is going nowhere. She might hate me being as “overbearing” as my ex-wife, but Amanda isn’t calling the shots while her safety is on the line.
“Let’s go.” I nudge her toward the door.
If I don’t, if I stand here with her face under mine, with her lush mouth just inches away, I’ll keep thinking things I shouldn’t. I’ll stop remembering that doing them isn’t smart and start wondering if doing them is possible. I might even convince myself she wants me to.
Don’t be a dumb ass. Step back, pick up the kid, and act like a professional.
Scooping up Oliver, I peek out the door and scan the parking lot. I still don’t see anyone. There’s a couple with two little kids walking toward the beach a block away. I see an old guy drinking his morning coffee on his balcony across the street. A pair of women are talking a few yards down as one’s antsy dog runs in circles on its leash. I can’t be one hundred percent certain that none of them pose a threat, but my senses tell me they mean Amanda no harm.
I step aside and let her ease out the door. Her body brushes me as she passes, and I wish I wasn’t so aware of her.
“Wait.” I block those nearby from spotting her with my body as I lock the door, escort her to the car, then hastily set Oliver in his car seat.
She taps me on the shoulder. “Do you need help?”
I could probably figure out the buckles and straps of this contraption eventually, but I’d hate to do something wrong in my ignorance. “Sure.”
As I step back, she leans in. I try not to leer at her ass. Or any of her, really. Ellie did her best to enlighten me, and I understand how unwarranted staring could be unwelcome. Besides, Amanda isn’t looking for a lover. And when I’m with her, I shouldn’t be, either.
Moments later, she straightens. I escort her to the passenger’s side and open the door. I’m not sure what reaction I expected. I didn’t foresee her eyes zipping up to mine.
“Trying to be a gentleman?”
I’d suspect she was being snide if her face didn’t seem so wary. “No. My ex-wife hated gestures like this. But there are seven visible people nearby, any of whom could see you if I wasn’t blocking their view.”
She tries to peek around my shoulder. “I only saw the family heading to the beach. Who else?”
I grasp her face and hold her in place. “There are others. You’re going to have to trust me on this or we don’t have any business continuing this arrangement.”
“Fine.” She stops trying to peep behind me and slides into the car.
I shut the door and slip into the driver’s seat. When I turn the Mustang over, the engine roars. “What do you want for breakfast?”
We settle on donuts because Oliver isn’t awake yet, and his food would only get cold before he ate it. When we pull away from the drive-through, I notice she only drinks her coffee.
GPS tells me we have twelve minutes before we arrive at Trace’s location. I turned off the music as soon as I started up the car since it’s obvious we’re not going to agree on tunes. And as we stop at a light, Amanda glances out her window at the row of houses beyond a tall fence.
The golden sun illuminates her profile and makes her all but glow. I shift in my seat, but there’s no ignoring her effect on me.
“Would five thousand be enough to make you stay for the week?” she asks suddenly.
That’s more than I expected. It would certainly help me secure a lease and start acquiring equipment I need to open my doors. But we have to be real. “Do you really have that kind of money?”
“Now? No. But I can get it in a couple of days. If I promised you that, would you stay a whole week?”
Grilling her doesn’t seem right after the night she’s had. Besides, I’m dangerously reluctant to leave her side. “Yeah.”
“Would you stay another week for an additional five thousand?”
“Let’s see if you even need me beyond a few days. You may decide that you’re safer after some firearms and self-defense training, then use that money to find another high-security building like you had in LA. That would solve a lot of your problems.”
“Maybe.” But she doesn’t sound convinced.
What is she not telling me? I can’t begin to guess, but there’s something…
Silence descends again, barely punctuated by the rev of the classic car’s engine and the robotic directions my GPS gives. Finally, we turn onto a street cordoned off by an electronic gate. After I punch in the code Trace texted me, I zoom toward a shimmering white villa situated on a picturesque beach. This place is a giant step up from Joe’s apartment.
My occasional beer-drinking buddy ducks out the front door and waves my way as I pull up to the curb.
I turn to Amanda to gage her reaction. She doesn’t seem to have one, but she looks both taut and tired, like she can’t decide whether she’ll crack or needs to escape into the numbness of slumber. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
In my experience, when a woman says she’s fine, she never is. But I’m betting Amanda won’t appreciate me using the lessons I learned during marriage on her. I swallow a curse. “I’ll get Oliver.”
“Thanks.” Her gaze barely skims me.
I climb out of the car, then lean in to pluck up the boy. He takes one look at me with bleary, half-open eyes, then starts to wail.
Fuck, what did I do wrong?
Trace rushes over. “Need help?”
“Pointers, maybe. I’ve never been around kids.”
“Ever?”
“Nope. I’m an only child. But more importantly, I need my hands free…just in case.” Someone violent is lying in wait.
Trace nods like he understands. “Masey and I have been here for a bit. We haven’t seen anyone.”
“Great.” But that doesn’t mean the place is safe. It may mean that whoever’s after Amanda is just good.
She climbs out of the car and dashes around to claim Oliver, cradling him protectively as she shoots me an apologetic glance. “Sorry. He’s still behind on his sleep.”
Does she think I’m
going to be angry because he’s fussy? “It’s no problem.”
She sends me a stilted smile, then turns to my buddy. “Hi, Trace. Do you know where I can lay my son down?”
“I don’t. I’ve only been here a few minutes, but my friend, Masey, is inside. Since she knows her way around this place, she’ll help you.”
“Thanks.” She grabs her diaper bag from inside the muscle car, soothes her fussy son with a soft whisper, then shoots me a sidelong stare before she disappears inside.
“How’s that going?” he asks.
I watch Amanda walk toward the house. Every instinct I possess tells me to stay on her ass—not just the bodyguard in me…but the man. The latter is the only reason I’m giving her an inch of space. “Um…interesting.”
“That doesn’t sound good. Shit. Sorry, man. I’ll pay you for your time and headache.”
“No.” I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want Amanda beholden to him in any way. My instinct is stupidly possessive; I think he’s got something going on with whoever Masey is. But I still don’t want him between Amanda and me. “She’s got it. We’ve worked something out.”
He frowns. “But?”
I’m not surprised he’s sensed the undercurrent between us. “She’s wary.”
“Of you?”
“Until now, I didn’t know if it was me or men in general. But she doesn’t have a problem with you.” And that chaps me.
“What do you think is going on?”
“I have some theories.”
Mostly that she’s attracted to me, too. She’s definitely looked. God knows I have. It’s a bad idea all the way around.
Trace nods. “Got any luggage?”
“Yeah. I could use a hand.”
He hauls my duffel and Oliver’s rolling suitcase with the race-car motif inside. I handle Amanda’s enormous bag and my gun case.
The inside of the house is huge and airy, everything seemingly neutral and white. I follow the sounds of women chatting softly, bypassing one suitcase in the middle of the hall, and find them in the master bedroom with a wall of windows open to the morning sun and one-hundred-eighty-degree ocean views. Like the rest of the house, neutrals and whites make a muted statement, letting the paradise all around shout its color and beauty.