His Bodyguard

by Greiman, Lois

  “I’m a police officer,” Brady gritted, straightening slowly and glaring at his sister.

  “Sure y’ are,” Smitty said.

  “My badge is in my wallet.” With his free hand, he slapped his back pocket. It was empty.

  Brenna swallowed and stepped back a pace.

  “Brenna!” Brady snarled, realizing she’d resurrected her old character from their childhood and was once again playing the thief.

  “Come on,” Smitty urged.

  “She took my ID.”

  “’Course she did,” Smitty said, pushing Brady up the aisle in front of him.

  “Let me go!” Brady snarled. He tried to twist away, but Smitty wasn’t about to be out-maneuvered a second time. Grabbing an arm, he shoved his prisoner up the aisle and out of sight.

  “O’SHAY?”

  Brenna didn’t have time to answer before her room door was shoved open.

  “You decent?” Nathan asked, peeking inside.

  “Would it matter?” she asked wearily.

  “Oh yeah.” He chuckled as he stepped inside and looked her over. “You’ve got glasses.”

  She tried not to shuffle her feet as she pushed the wire rims up her nose.

  “Cute. What happened to the T-shirt thing?”

  She managed a scowl. “Just trying to be one of the guys.” She wore full pajamas, a couple sizes too large, dark green, and buttoned to the chin. She’d slipped into them as soon as she’d returned to her room, because it had been one hell of a long night. Still, she consoled herself with the fact that she’d lived through her first performance, had only been attacked twice and had her little brother incarcerated.

  God help her!

  “That’s not what the guys wear. Least it’s not what I wear,” Nate said.

  Brenna stared at him in the ensuing silence. He looked cuddly and a little sleepy, and suddenly she wished, for her own self-preservation, that her pajamas had more buttons to fasten.

  “Aren’t you going to ask?” he said.

  “I don’t want to know what you wear,” she lied.

  He laughed aloud, walked with his hundred-acre stride across her sitting room and collapsed into the nearest chair. “So what did you think?”

  She thought that if he were any more alluring she could use him for bait. And truthfully, she would have loved to curl up in his lap and tell him that her big brothers were going to be really, really mad at her, and she’d been scared to death, but in a kind of exhilarated way, and his singing was so pretty, it had almost made her cry. And…“What do I think about what?” she asked, trying to sound casual in the harsh face of carnal lust and more.

  “About the concert,” he said.

  She shrugged, wishing she could conjure up a yawn. “I don’t know much about country music.”

  “Okay.” His smile didn’t dim. “How about music in general?”

  “Did you come in here to fish for compliments, Fox?”

  “I’ve always liked to fish,” he said, then released a long breath and settled back a mite, stretching his booted feet out in front of him. “Actually, I came to thank you.”

  “What?”

  “For keeping the peace. I saw the woman by the stage.” He paused. “And later, I saw you tussle with that fellow up top.”

  She felt the blush starting at her toes. He’d witnessed her fight with Brady. Damn! What if he decided to investigate and found out she’d had her own brother thrown in jail? That wouldn’t look so good. “You did?”

  “Yeah. Sometimes those drunks can be real bastards. You okay?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

  “One of the security guards told Sarge I should pay you more. Said you’re a real scrapper.”

  She tried not to fidget and made an attempt at changing the subject “I don’t think I was what Sarge had in mind when he was looking for a bodyguard.”

  “But you were just what I was looking for. Sarge should have known that”

  Yes, he probably should have. It was just like Nathan Fox to hire the most feminine bodyguard in the room. And that had been her hands down. “I think he resents me.” It sounded moodier than she had intended, and far too honest

  “Naw,” Nathan said, his tone smoky soft. “He’s just not used to seeing a woman do stuff he can’t. They said it was really something how you handled that guy.”

  “He was, um…” She cleared her throat and turned away to fuss with the jacket she’d hung over her bedpost. “The guy was real drunk. Not much of a threat.”

  “That’s not what I heard. They said he had a gun.”

  Sweet Mary! Carrying concealed! Of course he was. Brenna knew Brady would be in trouble without his ID, had even hoped he’d be in enough trouble to hold him for a while. But in that fraction of a second when she’d snatched her brother’s wallet, she’d never thought of his gun. She’d already put his billfold in the mail along with an apology in the belief that Brady would be home in a day or so. But…carrying concealed! Even she’d known enough to leave her Glock in Mississippi.

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean any real harm,” she said weakly.

  “I don’t know,” Nate said. “Could be this is the guy that’s been sending the letters.”

  Brenna just about thumped her head against the wall, but could hardly admit the truth of the situation. “I’ll…um, I’ll keep tabs on what the police find out.”

  “I know.”

  “What?”

  “I’m starting to think you’re a real bodyguard.”

  She swung toward him on her bare heel. “What did you think I was?”

  He rose to his feet. His warm gaze skimmed her body with breath-stopping intimacy. “I thought you were a woman with really great…coordination.”

  She raised one brow at him.

  He grinned. “The way you fell into my arms that first day in the restaurant, I thought…how many gals could do that so nice on the first try?”

  “I’m glad you appreciate my feeble attempts to please you,” she retorted.

  His grin widened. “Oh, I do. But since then I’ve figured out there’s more to you.”

  “Dare I hope?”

  “Yep. You got really nice hair too.”

  She watched him with arch curiosity for a moment. “You know, Fox, I can never decide if I should hit you in the gut or just file that complaint.”

  “Sexual harassment again?”

  “Good guess.”

  “I’ve always been confused about this harassment thing. Often as not, I can’t tell it from your run-of-the-mill compliment. Seems I can’t say anything to you.”

  “Not true, Fox,” she said, turning away. “You could talk about anything from the weather to the price of tea.”

  “You know, the weather down here ain’t hardly worth mentioning. If there ain’t icicles hanging off body parts, I’m pretty much bored with the climate. And tea ain’t my drink of choice. So that leaves me with—” his gaze skimmed her again “—more interesting stuff.”

  “Watch yourself,” she warned, but her body had begun to thrum evilly.

  He grinned. “Tell you what, O’Shay, if you’ll allow just a couple lewd remarks, I’ll let you harass the hell outta me.”

  “How generous.”

  “I know. But I mean it. Any time you feel like commenting on any of my parts, you go right ahead.”

  “I’m honored.”

  “Yeah? Where do you want to start?”

  She tried not to smile, but he looked so ridiculously sincere. “I’m really surprised you’re allowed to roam the streets free, Fox.”

  “And I’m surprised you hide away a smile like that,” he said, stepping up close.

  She swiped the dastardly expression from her face and shook her head. “I’ll walk you back to your room,” she said, and skirted him to head for the door.

  “So the boogeyman doesn’t get me?” he asked, following her into the hall.

  “So I can get some sleep without knocking you on the head.”

&
nbsp; “Maybe you’d better check under my bed again.”

  “Listen, Fox,” she said, inserting the key, “if you’re so desperate for companionship, I got a phone number from the woman at the auditorium.”

  “The one you wrestled back to her seat?”

  “The same.”

  He winced as he stepped into his room. “Generally speaking, I prefer women who don’t rush me while I’m working.”

  “Really? I’m surprised at your integrity.”

  “You might be surprised by a lot of things about me.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  From the corner of her eye, Brenna caught a glimpse of Ian’s towhead, but before she could turn and apologize for the other night, he had disappeared around the comer, apparently hotfooting it in the opposite direction.

  “Huh?” she said, scowling at Ian’s fidgety nature. True, she’d jumped on his back and interrogated him in the wee hours of the morning, but that was no reason to be so skittish.

  “Come on in,” Nathan said. “I’ll shock your socks off.”

  “Sorry. Not wearing any.”

  “Underwear?”

  “Fox!”

  He laughed, then sobered and lifted her hand from his door latch to his lips.

  Feelings as bright as a meteor shower sparked through her as the breath was sucked from her lungs.

  “Good night, O’Shay. You’re a hell of a woman,” he said, and let the door close behind him.

  6

  THEY LAID OVER IN CHARLOTTE for three days, giving Brenna a chance to study The Cowboys’ upcoming agenda, contact future performance sites, and take care of a hundred other details.

  Everyone seemed rested and relaxed when they packed back into the buses and headed toward Mena, a town on the western border of Arkansas that boasted just over five thousand people. Abner Days was Mena’s big spring event, and the city had pooled its money to book The Cowboys as major entertainment.

  Tennessee was rolling and green and beautiful, but Brenna ignored the scenery, dragged out another bag of mail, and pored over the contents as they traveled west.

  Sometime after noon, the occupants of the buses could tolerate the confinement no longer. They stopped at a roadside park and had an impromptu picnic on blankets they dragged from the beds.

  Although Brenna was insistent on working, the boys refused to allow it, and she was coerced out into the sunshine. The unusually warm weather had cooled a little and popcorn clouds dotted an azure sky. The sweet scents of dogwood and wisteria filled the air.

  Conversation lulled and swelled around Brenna as she munched on crackers and cheese and tried not to be drawn into the boys’ lives. They were like nothing more than a big, fractious family, and honestly, she had enough family troubles without borrowing someone else’s.

  “A plumber,” Paul Grand was saying.

  “No way!” Rover was not one to mince words.

  “Your mom wanted you to be a plumber?” Fry said in amazement. “She musta not liked you much either, huh?”

  “Good money in plumbing,” Paul said, lying back, half on the blanket and half on the grass.

  “Yeah,” Fry said. “Enough to buy a bullet when you can’t stand the excitement no more.” Putting two fingers to his skull, he pulled an imaginary trigger.

  Brenna couldn’t help but chuckle with the others.

  “How ‘bout you, O’Shay?” Nathan’s question sobered her abruptly.

  “Me what?”

  He raised his brows as if surprised by the tension in her tone. She was going to have to become accustomed to having him around, which seemed about as easy as living with a porcupine in your underwear.

  “What did your mom want you to be?”

  “Um. Momma died when I was twelve.”

  Nate grimaced. “Sorry.”

  She shrugged, hoping she managed to look nonchalant

  “Way to go, Fox,” Fry murmured. “Ever want someone to bring down the mood, hire The Fox.”

  “You got to play to your talents,” Nathan said, then turned back to Brenna. “How ‘bout your dad?”

  “Daddy died in the line of duty nearly three years ago.”

  “Dammit, Fox, we’re leaving you out here for the squirrels to feed on,” Fry said.

  Nathan ignored him. “He was a police officer?”

  “Sheriff.”

  “Did he want you to follow in his footsteps? Be one of Jackson’s finest?”

  Brenna opened her mouth to answer, but in that moment, panic seized her. Her father hadn’t worked in Jackson; he’d worked in Poplar Springs, their hometown. But she dared not tell Fox, because that might only encourage more questions. He might find out she wasn’t a bodyguard for Bartman at all, but a secretary with no experience, no backing, and no confidence in her ability to keep her mouth shut when Nathan was questioning her.

  “I’d better get back to work,” Brenna said, and jerked to her feet, nearly spilling the last of Nathan’s milk before hurrying off to the bus.

  More than an hour passed before Brenna was able to relax. She was going to have to get over this. Become a better actress, she told herself.

  Sometime in the afternoon, Nathan ran out of milk. Fry jokingly worried about calcium withdrawal. Fox drank more milk than the combined population of most small states.

  The convenience store where they stopped was a small, rundown establishment with two gas pumps and a cracked front window.

  “Want me to go in for y’, boss?” Atlas asked, turning from behind the steering wheel.

  “No. I got to…” Nathan glanced at Brenna. She lifted her eyes, feeling his gaze on her. “Do some private business,” he finished lamely.

  “See how having a woman around improves us,” Fry observed. “He was gonna say take a piss. But y’all know that’d be crude what with a lady around and all.”

  Brenna turned a wry expression to Fry. Though she still had trouble handling Nate’s hot sensuality, she was becoming accustomed to the other men.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said, rising, “and I use that term ever so casually. I have a body to guard.”

  “Better lock the door, Fox. She’s awful zealous,” Fry said, and Brenna exited to their chuckles.

  Oh, boy. It was like being caged up with a bunch of half-grown pups, she thought, but she couldn’t quite help grinning as she entered the store.

  Nathan went straight to the restroom, leaving Brenna to lounge about nearby. The place was empty but for a skinny cashier with horn-rim glasses and a big, grizzly-looking fellow whose T-shirt proclaimed him to be the best lover in all of Tennessee. He was helping himself to coffee from a stained pot, but gave the impression that he may well be past the point where caffeine would influence the hangover he’d have in the morning.

  Nevertheless, he drank his brew, swore when he burnt his tongue, and headed for the cashier. He was just passing the men’s room when the door was pushed open.

  It hit his hands, sloshing hot coffee onto him. Yelping, he plucked his shirt from his chest

  “Geez! Sorry,” Nate said. “You all right?”

  “What the hell y’ think yer doing?”

  “Didn’t know you were there. Can I get you something?” Nathan asked.

  “Get me something?” Snorting, the big guy tossed his cup aside. Coffee splashed in every direction as he stepped up close to Nathan. “Yeah, you can get the hell out of my way, pretty boy, or you can get that cute little face of yours smashed in.”

  Nate straightened slightly, but Brenna could wait no longer. Sliding in between them, she spread her hands peaceably out to her sides.

  “We’ll pay for the coffee, mister,” she said.

  His eyes snapped open as he turned them down to her. She noticed when he grinned that his teeth were not very pretty. “This your little gal, pretty boy?”

  “Move aside, O’Shay,” Nathan said softly.

  But Brenna remained where she was. “Listen.” She raised her chin slightly. �
�We don’t want any trouble here.”

  The big man’s jaw dropped. “You protecting him?” he asked. She didn’t answer, and he threw back his head and laughed. “Damn, this beats all,” he guffawed, and reaching out, tried to swipe her aside.

  Brenna had no choice but to give him a quick knuckle punch to the belly. He stumbled back, then, drunk and stupid, he came at them with a roar.

  Panic sprang up in Brenna. But along with Master Leong’s endless witticisms, he had given her repeated practical advice—when in serious physical peril, aim for the head and pray.

  She was whirling before she could form a coherent thought. Her foot hit the side of grizzly man’s cranium with an audible thud. He careened sideways like a drunken sailor, bounced once against the wall, and dropped to the floor like a crushed rag doll.

  Absolute silence filled the shop.

  “Oh, God.” Paul Grand stood some feet away, his mouth open and his eyes wide. “Oh, God,” he repeated.

  By the time they left the shop, the fat guy was sitting up and Nathan had long since been hustled from the store, lest someone get the bright idea of suing.

  The rest of the journey to Mena was filled with the boys’ ribbing. They placed bets about pitting Brenna against various colorful characters ranging from Jackie Chan to Roger Rabbit.

  She couldn’t help but laugh at their attitudes, for though they teased her relentlessly, they obviously resented neither her ability nor her vocation.

  Over an hour had passed before Brenna realized Nathan had barely said a word. Even when they disembarked at a small hotel and Brenna searched his room, he did little more than bid her good-night.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY WENT SMOOTHLY. Brenna checked out the open-air concert area where The Cowboys would be performing and spoke with the local guards. Rain clouds threatened, so Brenna asked the road manager to check all the electrical wires once more, just to make sure they were safe.

  The precaution paid off, for sure enough there was a small area that had cracked and was soon repaired.

  When Nathan Fox rose to the stage, the crowd came to its feet and Brenna’s work began in earnest.

  They packed up early the next day and drove forever. The view was monotonous, the weather dreary, but it gave Brenna a chance to finish reading all Nathan’s mail. The glimmer of a theory was beginning to form in her mind, but as of yet it hadn’t bloomed. Daddy had been a big believer in intuition, and intuition needed time to blossom.