Open Your Heart

by Cheris Hodges

  “So, you’re a brutal nerd?” she’d quipped as they listened to a story about reforming schools in rural America.

  “I like to be informed without politics brought into the middle of it.”

  “This woman’s voice is making me want to go to sleep.”

  “Then please change the station for the seven hundredth time,” he quipped back.

  “I never realized how boring this ride is when you’re not driving.” She’d tilted her head to the side and watched him as he drove. Strong jawline. He looked as if he was sculpted from a golden stone. He was the kind of driver who kept his eyes on the road. And he even put on a pair of glasses. She had wondered if they were the Google glasses that allowed you to see the GPS so he wouldn’t have to look at his phone. Yolanda didn’t understand why she’d given this man the backstory of Bruce Wayne from the comics.

  “Did you always want to save people?” she’d asked as a beat passed.

  “Something like that. Hey, you want to stop and get a snack?”

  Another thing she’d noticed: Chuck didn’t like to talk about himself. And she couldn’t help but wonder why. Maybe he really was a superhero. Or some woman’s husband. “Nah, I’m good.”

  When Chuck pulled into the parking garage across from the town house, Yolanda stretched her hands over her head. “Finally. You drive like an old man.” Yolanda reached for the door handle and Chuck locked them.

  “Let me look around first. How far is the walk to Nina’s town house?”

  “It’s across the street.”

  “And do you park in the same spot every day?”

  “We have assigned spots.”

  Chuck nodded. “What floor do you park on?”

  “The third floor. What’s with all the questions, I want to get inside and use the little girls’ room.”

  “I get that, but there are security issues we need to go over before we just walk over to your place. There could be places for a sniper to hide. You’d be shot before you stuck your key in the door.”

  “Do you have to scare me, knowing I have to pee?”

  “The last thing I’m trying to do is scare you, but you need to be more aware of your surroundings.”

  Yolanda sighed. “What are we going to see in the dark?”

  “A lot more than you think.”

  Stroking her forehead, Yolanda expelled a frustrated sigh. “Fine, let’s just get this over with.”

  Chuck shook his head. “I’d like to think that you’re going to take this seriously.”

  “Charles, we just drove three hours. I’d like to think about fixing a nice cup of tea and going to sleep. You’re my bodyguard, right? Can’t you guard this body tonight and show me all the security stuff tomorrow?”

  “You’ve got me confused with the Secret Service.”

  “Can we get out of the car now?”

  As if he realized that she wasn’t going to cooperate tonight, Chuck nodded and unlocked the doors. Despite saying he wasn’t the Secret Service, Chuck walked in front of Yolanda as they crossed the street to her town house. It was hard for her to think of it as hers sometimes. But knowing that she might be under a killer’s watch, she was glad Nina was safe in Charleston.

  When they walked out of the parking garage, Yolanda placed her hand on the small of his back. Even though he said he wasn’t the Secret Service, he walked as if he were—shielding her from invisible snipers. He was hot. His body radiated heat that flowed through her system. He was electric. Yolanda closed her eyes for a second and pretended this wasn’t a bodyguard, but a booty call.

  Even though she and her sister Alex fought like cats and dogs, they had similar ideas when it came to matters of the heart.

  Love was a myth. They wouldn’t find the fairy tale their parents had. And Yolanda didn’t believe in love because it was cruel. As much as her father loved her mother, he still lost her to death. His heart was broken and he had four little girls to raise.

  There was no way she could allow herself to be hurt like that. Give everything to someone and still have to deal with the universe taking him away. She’d have fun with a guy until he wanted something more than she could give. At least she wasn’t like her oldest sister and burying herself in work. Yolanda had been having fun with fashion, being the toast of the town—on the guest list at all the major Richmond parties. Styling some reality TV stars in New York and raking up the sales and likes on her social media platforms. She’d remembered months after her styling of a certain housewife went viral, she’d briefly met Bobby G.

  His urban apparel shop had been popular in the city. He sold the outfits that people saw in hip-hop videos and throwback jerseys that rappers and celebrities coveted.

  Then that night happened. She needed that shot of her window display for Instagram but instead, witnessed his murder and heard the shot that vibrated through Richmond. Bobby G. had once asked her if he could partner with her boutique, but she wasn’t looking for anyone else to help her.

  This past year, she’d been able to pay her father back for his investment in her company and she’d vowed that she’d be her own woman from now on. Sure, Bobby had been a Richmond legend, but Yolanda was on her way to creating her own legacy. Until she saw his death. Now, she was starting over again. Why had her business been chosen that night?

  “Yolanda, are you going to unlock the door?” Chuck asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  “Sorry, I was just in another space. This is weird.”

  He nodded. “I get it. But think of me as your shadow.”

  She tilted her head to the side as she unlocked the door. “I thought shadows followed you.”

  “Tonight was different,” Chuck replied. He crossed in front of Yolanda and walked into the town house. She and Nina were both afraid of the dark, so the town house was outfitted with motion detection lighting. Chuck nodded in approval.

  “Was your sister having issues with someone?” he asked when they walked into the living room and all of the lights came on.

  “The monster under her bed. Nina was always afraid of the dark.”

  “And you?”

  “What?”

  Chuck smirked. “Are you afraid of the dark?”

  She shook her head then smiled. “Nope.” She winked at him then yawned. “There was a time when I wasn’t afraid of anything.”

  Chuck returned her smile and Yolanda’s heart quickened. There was something about him that made her think about anything but death and snipers ready to take her out. She wanted him to be a guy who was spending the night for pleasure. A fine man who’d hold her in the moonlight and whisper naughty things in her ear.

  Shivering at the thought of his big hands touching her between her thighs, Yolanda remembered her manners. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Water is fine.”

  She started toward the kitchen and was surprised when he followed her. “I don’t think the boogeyman is hiding in the fridge,” Yolanda said.

  “I’m just trying to get a tour of the place for security purposes.” Why did this man’s voice send ripples down her spine?

  “Um-huh.” She flipped the light switch on and crossed over to the stainless steel refrigerator. Yolanda grabbed a bottle of water for Chuck and retrieved a half-empty bottle of Chardonnay for herself. “Would you like a glass?”

  He shook his head. “I need to stay focused. You drink every night?”

  “Not really. I’m not an alcoholic,” she said. But Yolanda knew she needed this wine to keep her mind off the sexy man standing on the other side of the kitchen island.

  “How many bedrooms are in here?”

  “Um, three. The master bedroom upstairs, my room is downstairs, and there’s a room upstairs that I’ve been using as a storage room. The master bedroom is my studio.” She set the wine bottle on the counter without pouring a glass. “Being that you need someplace to sleep, I should probably make room for you.”

  “You don’t have to do that tonight. I’m going to sleep
on the sofa in the living room and get used to the sounds of the house.”

  You’re going to be right outside my door. Damn. “Oh, okay. Well, um, do you want something to eat?”

  “Why are you acting so nervous?” His smile lit up his green eyes. Eyes she could get lost in because they reminded her of the Emerald Coast in Destin, Florida. She loved Destin.

  This man is not Destin. Pull yourself together.

  “All of this is new to me and I’m still trying to get a read on you, Chuck.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  Chapter 8

  Charles knew he’d opened a door he wasn’t sure he wanted to walk through when he saw the wide smile on her face.

  “Why do you want to save people?” she asked as she poured herself a glass of wine.

  “Why not?”

  “Seems dangerous.”

  “So is living.”

  “Not a real answer.”

  “I thought your sister was the journalist?”

  Yolanda shrugged before taking a long sip of her wine. “I’m a jack-of-all-trades.”

  Charles raised his right eyebrow but kept silent for a beat. “You like to pretend you’re tougher than you really are, don’t you?”

  Yolanda pushed her wineglass toward the center of the counter. “We’re talking about you, not me. Excuse me if I want to get to know my new roommate.”

  “I’m not your roommate. I’m here to provide security and keep you alive.”

  She rolled her eyes and picked up her wineglass. “As you keep reminding me. If they ever do another Terminator movie, then you definitely need to audition. ‘Come with me if you want to live.’ ”

  “And you don’t need to get to know me. But I need to know more about you, Yolanda Richardson.”

  She rubbed her hand across her face. “And why is that?”

  “Your father hired me to keep you safe. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

  She snickered. “That wasn’t my follow-up question. I want to know why you think I don’t need to get to know you.”

  “Because you don’t. This is a job and I’d love for you to take this seriously.”

  “Clearly I know that, but you sitting there judging me while you sip your water isn’t going to help you save me, hero,” Yolanda said then snorted.

  “You’ve got me all wrong, Yolanda. I’m not judging you, I’m trying to understand you.”

  She rolled her eyes and drained the rest of the wine in her glass. “I told you everything you need to know.”

  He shrugged and sipped his water before saying, “You told me what you think I wanted to know. When you saw that man get killed, why didn’t you call the police? Days later, what made you so fearful?”

  Yolanda drummed her finger against the rim of her empty wineglass. “What part of ‘I was scared’ don’t you understand? My life was super simple. Even when I was in Atlanta, I never saw violence up close and personal. My dad sheltered us from a lot.”

  “I’m sure he would’ve wanted you to . . .”

  She threw her hand up and shook her head. “Don’t tell me that I should’ve honored my father’s legacy and run to the police department to report what I saw. You didn’t see the coldness of that man who shot Bobby G.”

  “You knew the man who was killed?”

  Yolanda shook her head and crossed over to the refrigerator to grab another bottle of wine. “Saw who he was on a news report. He was one of those people everyone in Richmond knew.” She filled her glass. “And we had one brief meeting about him wanting to come on as an investor. But I didn’t want his money and I didn’t want to partner with his shop. I’m finally standing on my own and then this happens.”

  Charles made mental notes of what she said about this Bobby G. person. Maybe there was more to the story. Maybe she and this Bobby G. person had a personal relationship and . . . getting ahead of himself. This isn’t about her personal life. This isn’t Hillary.

  “How do the killers know you were the one who saw them that night?”

  “Clue number one, the death threats. Or maybe the video from my shop showed something more that I thought?”

  “Can you tell me what happened that night?”

  “How about in the morning? I’m tired.”

  “All right, but before you go to bed, let me check the locks on the windows and doors.”

  “Go ahead,” she said, then yawned. Charles stood up and walked through the town house. He was unimpressed with the single locks on the windows and made a mental note to get better locks for the windows.

  The dead bolt lock on the front door was promising. But the lack of a security system was a problem. Charles sighed as he headed for Yolanda’s bedroom. If she was being stalked, the killer probably knew where she slept. He looked at the closed door and wondered if he should walk in or just wait until tomorrow morning.

  Death doesn’t wait. You need to check the lock now. Why was he acting like this? Yolanda was a client and he was doing a security check. He crossed over to the door and knocked gently.

  “Yes?” Yolanda said.

  “I need to come in and check your windows.”

  “It’s open.”

  Charles gripped the doorknob and took a deep breath. For some reason, he expected to see Yolanda in a silky nighty, her face washed clean of her makeup and her lips glistening with a light gloss.

  When he opened the door, he saw that she was sitting at her desk working on her computer. Still fully dressed, except for her shoes. And what beautiful feet she had. Obviously, she kept her appointments for pedicures. The purple polish on her toes made his mouth water. Looking away from her perfect feet, he crossed over to the window and was surprised to find that the window was unlocked and broken.

  “Yolanda. Did you know the lock is broken?”

  “No, but what can I do about it tonight?” She sounded annoyed as she glanced at him.

  Charles knew he could rig the lock up so that if anyone tried to come in through the window they’d have a warning. But the look on Yolanda’s face told him that he’d be better off replacing the lock in the morning.

  Still, he knew he wouldn’t sleep knowing she was vulnerable in that room. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to sleep in here with that kind of security issue. I can put something on the window that would rattle if someone tried to break in.”

  Yolanda rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She stood up and stretched her arms above her head. “Do what you have to do. I’m going to take a shower.” Charles watched her as she sauntered out of the room. As she turned around, he focused on the window. He needed two nails and an empty can. It was a crude alarm system that he’d developed when he and Hillary first started out. She had a lot of windows where the locks had been purposely broken or removed so that her ex could have easy access to her. He’d put the nails and cans on the windows the first night and then replaced the locks the next day.

  Thank goodness Yolanda only had one broken lock. Maybe her stalker hadn’t found where she lived yet. But if these people wanted her dead, it wasn’t going to take long for them to find her.

  Charles headed to his car to grab his tool kit so that he could shore up the window. Since Yolanda had dropped her house key in a bowl near the door, he took it with him—not taking a chance on leaving the door unlocked. He crossed into the parking garage and dashed to his car. After grabbing his toolbox, Charles looked around the parking garage trying to locate the cameras and hiding spots where someone could sit in wait to attack Yolanda.

  There were shadows where someone could hide and jump out to grab her. None of the cameras were pointed at dark spots in the garage, which defeated the purpose of having cameras in place. Part of him wanted to e-mail the company and outline their security flaws, but he wasn’t there for those people. His job was to protect Yolanda Richardson.

  Maybe he was overreacting or maybe he was trying to get over his greatest failure. He had ignored small things when it came to Hillary and he couldn’t
do that again. After rushing over to the town house, he entered, being sure to lock the door behind him. Since he didn’t hear the shower going he estimated that she was out of the shower and was probably dressed for bed. What he didn’t expect was to see half-naked Yolanda zipping out of the kitchen. Her skin was damp and the bath sheet she had wrapped around her body slipped down with every step she took. Charles knew he should’ve looked away. But fresh-faced Yolanda with dripping wavy hair took his breath away.

  They locked eyes and Yolanda didn’t seem embarrassed or shocked at all. She simply adjusted her towel and poured her wine.

  “Um,” Charles said, “I was going to fix the lock on the window.”

  “Go ahead,” she said, then shrugged her bare shoulder. “I was wondering where you were. I’m glad you don’t smoke.”

  “Why would you think that I smoke?”

  “Isn’t that why most people go outside in the middle of the night?”

  “Just so you know, I’m not most people. And you should really take your keys into your bedroom instead of leaving them at your door.”

  “Does everything with you end with orders?” She took a sip of her wine and winked at him.

  “It’s a simple security suggestion. Does everything with you have to be a fight?”

  Yolanda laughed. “If you think this is a fight, this is going to be a long assignment for you.”

  Charles shook his head. “Are you going to be in here with your wine for a while or do you want me to fix the lock after you get dressed?”

  She raised her left arm with a flourish. “So, you did notice that your little talk was keeping me from getting dressed.”

  Charles was about to respond when the bath sheet fell to the floor.

  * * *

  Inside, Yolanda was dying a slow death. Her father would’ve told her that this is what happens when you show off. But she had to save face. Did she mean for Chuck to see her running around in a towel?