by Tabatha Kiss
Zachary. My son.
I stare through the glass of the maternity ward at him. He’s somehow sleeping despite the screams of other babies in the bassinets surrounding him but knowing his mother, I can’t be too surprised. Sleep is sacred to that woman.
“Hey, Vin.”
I turn to see Anna standing to my right, smiling wide at me with a big, blue balloon in one hand and a tiny teddy bear in the other.
“You look exhausted,” she says.
“I am,” I chuckle.
“Have you slept at all?”
I shake my head and look back through the glass. “No.”
“Is Evey okay?”
“Mother and baby are just fine.”
She sidles in close and follows my gaze. “Which one is he?”
I point a finger. “That one.”
Her mouth drops. “Oh, of course, he is. With that jaw, how could he not be yours?”
“It is kind of obvious, isn’t it?” I laugh. “I proposed to her this morning, too.”
She gasps and slaps my arm. “It’s about damn time!”
“I was waiting for the right moment, okay?”
“Honey, my water just broke isn’t the right moment to propose to your girlfriend, little brother.”
“It was a year from when we moved in together,” I argue. “It was special… up until the moment her water actually did break and we had to rush over here.”
Her tongue ticks. “You guys suck at timing.”
“It’s never been our strong suit but we’re getting better... I hope.”
She sighs and hands me the bear. “From your friends at the BPD.”
I grin at the tiny police officer uniform, complete with shiny hat and little sunglasses. There’s a card attached to the back. I turn it over to read it aloud.
“Congratulations, Silva.” I pause to laugh. “Let’s hope he takes after his mother. Sally.”
“She might have a point about that,” Anna quips.
“She probably does,” I nod, sliding the card into my pocket.
“Zachary Silva.” She nods with approval. “Cool name, little brother.”
“We named him after her father.”
“It’s perfect.”
I keep my eyes on him because somebody’s gonna have to. “Yeah, he is.”
***
We climb the stairs to our apartment above the bakery, traveling slowly through the dark so we don’t wake the baby.
Zachary snoozes on Evey’s shoulder. I can barely look away from him as I move and she doesn’t either. I’ve never seen her more exhausted but while her eyes scream for sleep, her smile shows blissful contentment.
Evey heads straight for the crib in the corner and lays him down, moving her muscles inch-by-inch until she finally has him inside.
I set the car seat on the table and pause. There’s still so much to do and plan for. Schedules and routines need to be set in stone. I shake my head. He was late for weeks and I still don’t feel like we’re prepared enough for this.
I turn to the crib to join Evey and smile, finding that she’s already fallen asleep on the bed beside it. Pure exhaustion. Blissfully content.
I’ll let her sleep.
I take a seat in the rocking chair on the other side of the crib. Something stiff presses against my rear and I reach behind me to find that card inside my pocket. I take a closer look at the fancy illustration of baby pandas on the front before flipping it over and reading the message on the back.
Let’s hope he takes after his mother.
I look at my son again as he gently kicks in his sleep. If I were to be honest, I’ve already said a prayer or two about that. I hope he does take more from Evey than from me.
Maybe that’s something every father thinks. My greatest accomplishment lies in front of me and all I can think about is every mistake I’ve made. Every bump and bruise I’ve endured to get right here to this very moment flashes in front of my eyes.
Then again, all of them led me to Evey. Without her, he wouldn’t exist.
Without her, I’d never be the father he needs me to be.
Sink or swim.
“Vincent.”
Evey whispers in the dark and extends her hand to me.
I stand off the chair and wander over, silently kicking off my shoes as I go. She entwines her fingers in mine and pulls me down to lie beside her. I embrace her closely, laying kisses along her brow to show just how much I adore her and how grateful I am for everything she’s done.
I glance around at the life we started together and I’m touched by a moment of clarity.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am her hero, but if that’s true, then…
She’s my hero, too.
NOVELS BY TABATHA KISS
Read every novel for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!
THE SNAKE EYES SERIES
Stand-alone romance. Interconnecting stories.
One unforgettable adventure!
Bodyguard: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance
The Hitman’s Dancer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance
Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance
Bloodlines: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance
Hard Bounty: A Bad Boy Bounty Hunter Romance
THE BAD BALLER BOOKS
Irresistible Stand-alone Sports Romances!
Whiplash: A Sports Romance
Johnny Deeper: A Sports Romance
Home Run Baby: A Sports Romance
THE MIDWEST ALPHAS
MMA Suspense at its very best!
Untouched: A Bad Boy MMA Romance
Unbroken: A Bad Boy MMA Romance
Undying: A Bad Boy MMA Romance
BAD BOY ROMANCES
Guaranteed to hit the spot!
Ruin Me: A Stepbrother Romance
Muffin Top
DARK BILLIONAIRES
Blind Girl: A Dark Billionaire Romance
Tabatha Kiss lives in Chicago, Illinois. You can probably catch her huddled up in a hoodie, reading a good romance beneath a tree in Jackson Park with her trusty husky by her side. She enjoys roller derby, sushi, and is always searching for her forever bad boy. In the meantime, she writes.
Discover more at
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Please enjoy
Bodyguard
Snake Eyes | Book 1
as a bonus read!
Thank you for reading!
xoxo
TK
BODYGUARD
A BAD BOY STEPBROTHER ROMANCE
SNAKE EYES | BOOK 1
TABATHA KISS
Copyright © 2016 by Tabatha Kiss
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form
without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All characters detailed within are eighteen years of age or older.
No characters engaging in sexual acts are blood-related.
WARNING: This novel contains explicit descriptions of
erotic and sexual acts that some may find offensive,
including perverse adult language.
Reader discretion advised.
tabathakiss.com
The SNAKE EYES Series
Stand-alone Romances.
Interconnecting Stories.
One Unforgettable Adventure.
READING ORDER
#1: Bodyguard: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance
#2: The Hitman’s Dancer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance
#3: Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance
#4: Bloodlines: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance
#5: Hard Bounty:
A Bad Boy Bounty Hunter Romance
BODYGUARD
A BAD BOY STEPBROTHER ROMANCE
SNAKE EYES | BOOK 1
BY TABATHA KISS
I’d give my life for hers.
And they’re hell-bent on making me.
Everyone has a celebrity they’re head over heels for. Mine is Roxie Roberts. Every man wants to date her and every girl wants to be her best friend. The perfect storm of talent and beauty. But I knew her before the fashion and the fame. Before all of that crap, she was my stepsister, Dani.
Beautiful, off-limits Dani Roberts.
I thought I’d never see her again. I left home with nothing and joined the army to become something she’d be proud of. Instead, I became a killer for the most deadly underground organization in the world, Snake Eyes. They didn’t give me much choice, but I couldn’t live like that. I faked my death and I’ve been in hiding ever since, determined to spend the rest of my days atoning for my sins.
Somehow, Snake Eyes found out I’m still alive. They can’t track me down, so they’re going after the one thing they know I care about to lure me out once and for all.
I won’t let them hurt you, Dani. Even if it kills me.
Chapter 1
Fox
“Did you know you’re the only one of my clients that goes down on me?”
I open my eyes, overcoming the rush of exhaustion. “No,” I say.
Darla’s propped up on her elbow, staring at me from the other side of the hotel bed with narrow, inquisitive eyes. They wander my face and body, once again trying to figure me out. I don’t blame her, though. I’ve been paying her for this for a few months now and all she’s gotten out of me is bodily fluid. “Why do you always request me?” she asks with her high-pitched voice.
I look away from her and slide off the bed. Darla always gets a little chatty after sex and that’s always been my cue to leave. “You don’t have other regulars?” I ask, deflecting her questions.
“Oh, I do…” she says. Her wandering gaze skips down my black tank to take in my bare lower half. I bend over to grab my boxers and slide them on. “Most of them request me because I look like her.”
“Her?” I ask, snatching my pants off the arm of a chair. I fish my fingers into the pockets to confirm that I still have my wallet and keys. Check and check.
“You know, her,” she giggles. “Roxie Roberts.”
I pause. “Never heard of her.”
She slaps the wrinkled bedspread with her palm. “Oh, come on! Roxie Roberts. The actress from the Night Trials movies? Backseat Driver? To Take A Look? You know her. You have to know her.”
“I don’t know her,” I say, zipping my fly.
“She looks like… well, this.” She makes a gesture up her body and frames her face.
I let my eyes follow her fingers, climbing the length of her from her toes to her forehead. Long, blonde hair. A slight curve to her hip. Thin, cherry-colored lips that stretch out wide when she smiles. Blue eyes. She’s not wrong. She does resemble Roxie Roberts, other than her voice. “Well, if that’s true, I bet you make good money off those suckers.”
“You betcha!” she says. “It’s kind of a pain, though. I have to stalk the tabloids to make sure I stay up-to-date with her looks or else I lose clients. She went red for like a month last year and my boss got so many complaints when I didn’t dye my hair quick enough to match…”
“I guess every job has its drawbacks.”
“So…” She sits up and plants her feet on the floor. “If you have no idea who Roxie Roberts is, then why do you request me every time?”
“I like consistency.”
She stands up and walks over to me, throwing on the most seductive glare she can muster. “Why do you pay for it?”
“You’d prefer it if I didn’t pay you?”
“No… I mean,” she chuckles. “Why does an attractive guy like you need to pay for it? There’s no way you can’t just walk into a bar and leave with a beautiful lady on each arm whenever you want.”
I look down at her and she stares back at me with a kind, warm smile, like she’s comforting a lost child at a theme park. I ignore it and throw my shirt over my shoulders. I don’t exactly pay her to pity me if you get my meaning. “Too much effort,” I say.
“Bullshit.” She smirks at me. “I bet you have some narcissistic drive. Like a grandiose sense of self-importance with an extreme inability to recognize the feelings and needs of others.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Not bad.”
“Really?” Her face beams. “I knew I’d figure you out eventually. I’m only one year into my degree and I’m already good at it.”
“Degree?”
“Psychology. University of Iowa.”
“Good for you.”
She takes a step closer and her perky breasts press against my chest. Her fingertip glides between the hairs of my beard, just barely touching the long scar hidden underneath on my left cheek.
I take hold of her shoulders and guide her away from me. “I need to get going.”
“You should stay a little longer…” She bites her wet lips, smiling at me. “I won’t even charge you. It’ll just be our little secret.” She reaches for me again, this time tugging at my tank to try and see beneath it.
I grab her wrist and she lets go. “No, thanks.”
She winces, obviously offended by the rejection. Her hand falls back to her side. “Okay…” She steps away and grabs her little black dress off the floor.
“Nothing personal.”
“No, I get it,” she huffs. “You’re an all business, no pleasure kind of guy.”
“I don’t think it’s too far out of line for me to request that we keep this professional.”
“It’s not. I’m pretty sure it’s me that’s out of line…” She keeps her eyes low and she leans over to slip her black heels on. Her nostrils flare and her cheeks flush red. I blink to clear my head. She really does look just like her.
I slide a hand into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. “Sorry if I offended you.”
“You didn’t.” She flips her neck hard to force her hair away from her face and looks up at me. “Thick skin comes with the job.”
“Good.”
“I just… I just find you a little fascinating, is all.”
“Why?”
Her eyes fall to my chest. “Well, you’re obviously in great physical shape, but you’ve never taken your shirt off in front of me. You leave it on during sex, which makes me think that you have something to hide under there — something other than the scar on your cheek you easily conceal with that beard. You’re not like my other clients. You’re gentle—”
“Gentle?”
“Well…” Her cheeks turn pink. “You’re rough, but in the right ways. And you’re nice, thoughtful. Almost caring. Sometimes I think, ‘Wow, maybe he really likes me,’ and yet, you won’t even tell me your name.”
“You know my name.”
“Your real name is not Channing Tatum.”
“It could be.”
She rolls her eyes. “Look, I get it. You’re the very definition of the tall, dark, and handsome stranger and you obviously like it that way.” Her shoulders bounce in defeat. “I guess it would be easier to hate you if you were more of an asshole to me.”
I reach into my wallet and pull out a small stack of twenty dollar bills. “Sorry.” I hold out my hand and she takes the money from me. “I’m not that kind of guy.”
She folds the money into a tight rectangle and stuffs it inside her clutch. “And you always pay cash, so I can’t trace your payment…”
I breathe a small laugh and walk over to the door for my suit jacket.
“One last question…” she says. “I promise it’ll be the last time I ever ask you.”
“What?”
“Why do you really request me every time? Do I remind you of someone?” She chews on her lip. “You know, someone other than a beautiful, glamorous movie star?”
/> “No.” I push one arm into the jacket and slide it onto my back. “Like I said. Consistency.”
Her eyes narrow, not believing a word of it. “Well, whoever she is, I hope you two are happy someday.”
She’s baiting me, hoping I’ll slip up and admit she’s right. I say nothing more and step outside, closing the door behind me.
Sorry, Darla. It’s not just you. Getting personal isn’t something I do with anybody anymore.
Roxie Roberts. Of course, I know who she is. Everyone has a movie star they’re head over heels in love with. Mine is Roxie Roberts. Every guy wants to date her and every girl wants to be her best friend. You’ve no doubt waited in line to see every one of her blockbuster movies. You cried with her when she won her awards because she’s just so darn relatable, it makes you believe that one day you could be in her shoes, too. She’s the perfect role model for young girls, a walking billboard of body positivity and confidence. The perfect storm of talent and beauty.
I knew her before the fashion or the fame. Before all of that crap, she was my little stepsister, Dani.
Beautiful, off-limits, Dani Roberts. The girl down the hall.
Darla makes an okay substitute. Her resemblance to Dani is absolutely the reason why I request her every time. I’m not proud of it, but I’m not all that ashamed of it either. It’s been five years since I’ve seen Dani — outside of the silver screen, of course. I’d love to go home and see her face again, but that situation is about as complicated as it can get.
I climb into my car and drive away from the motel, leaving Iowa City behind me. I rarely enter the city at all anymore. I travel in about once a week for groceries or to run an errand for Mrs. Clark on the days when her hip is acting up on her. I suppose I’ll have to limit my trips in to see Darla now, too. She’s gotten way too attached to me and I don’t feel like dodging her questions anymore. Tonight was the first time she started slipping personal information about herself into the conversation — Psychology. University of Iowa. — but I already knew all of that because I did my research on her. She’s your basic, no-nonsense girl, someone that didn’t seem like the type to psychoanalyze me when I first started paying for her company. I guess she switched majors.