Surrendering to the Bodyguard

by Asha Daniels

  “As if I care,” Jasmine retorted.

  The moment her father took a step closer, the girl backed down. Even her facial expression had changed.

  “Apologize now.” Another absolute demand.

  Cutter caught the way the man’s hand moved against his belt, a simple yet powerful gesture. When Jasmine’s face turned red, he completely understood the level of their relationship. No wonder the girl acted out.

  “Yes, Dad-dy. I apologize. As you can imagine, Mr. Thomas, almost being killed has a certain ill effect on most people.” Jasmine kept her tone of voice clipped.

  Refusing to take the bait, he simply nodded, hesitating before shaking her hand. The second, the very instant they touched, electricity shot through him. The current was so powerful, so concentrated that he had difficulty breathing. He could see the draw with the girl was similar, her mouth pursing, her breath skipping, her nipples hardening. “Ms. Rush. I’m here to provide protection, not become your friend.” His mouth was bone dry as he stated the words.

  She rubbed her thumb across his hand in an aimless fashion, as if she had no idea the way her body was reacting to the simple touch.

  Cutter was drawn in, his heart beating, his cock throbbing. This was uncalled for. This was uncanny. This was…

  Jeff cleared his throat. “We’d like to get Ms. Rush to the safe house before dark, so we should go over the details.”

  “Of course.” Cutter pulled his hand away.

  “Please, sit.” Winston directed.

  Cutter remained standing. “Tell me the details.” Winston started to speak, and he held up his hand. “I’d like to hear from Ms. Rush.”

  Jasmine darted a glaring look toward her father before she began to tell the story.

  He caught the expression as well as the one in return from her father. Evidently, Winston ruled his daughter with an iron fist, no doubt controlling her in every manner. Or perhaps the senator had lost all control. He took a step closer, paying attention to not only her words, but her body language, the small but significant gestures. She had no idea who was threatening her. The fact it had been going on for months meant the perpetrator had achieved knowledge of her life, her whereabouts and friends, her usual hangout spots and even her choice of restaurants as well as food and drink.

  When she was finished, she sat with her hands in her lap, her head down.

  One thing Cutter was able to tell easily, she was a born and bred submissive, fighting her natural instincts. He pushed down his longing, the odd emotions that had never occurred with a client before. “What do you do, Ms. Rush?”

  “I’m with a band called Danger. I’m the lead singer.”

  “Which means you’re in the public eye.” Cutter shifted his gaze to her father. The man was riding on every word, leaning forward as if needing to coach her.

  Jasmine nodded. “Very much so. We travel everywhere. I’m on magazine covers.” A short laugh was followed by her hand being placed over her mouth, cutting the single moment of joy. “You really don’t know who I am?”

  “Ms. Rush, my work takes me to various locations in the United States as well as all over the world. I assure you, I have no time for entertainment.” Cutter heard the disdain in his voice, but he needed to make certain she understood the line between them. Protector versus victim.

  “Jasmine had a performing schedule that I know she’ll want to keep,” Winston piped in.

  “There will be no additional performances or appearances of any kind until the perpetrator is caught. Is that understood?” Cutter looked from Jasmine to her father.

  “I have two weeks off, but that’s it,” Jasmine added, her haughtiness returning.

  Cutter issued his own look, curious as to how she’d react.

  Winston huffed. “You can’t simply cut into her life.”

  “Mr. Rush. Would you like your daughter alive?” The words rang in the expansive space.

  “What Cutter means is that there is no easy way of protecting her out in the open. The gunman was able to get inside a very secure concert through a security checkpoint without issue. This is not the first attempt; this particular gunman has found loopholes. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Jeff stated.

  Winston finally nodded. “I understand. You do what you feel you must. Just find the fucker or I…” He allowed the words to trail off.

  “You’ll do nothing, Mr. Rush. If there are any demands or threats made to you directly, you will let Jeff know as well as the FBI.” Cutter walked closer. “This is what’s going to happen. I am taking your daughter to a predesignated safe house. The only other person that will know of the location is Mr. Gammon.”

  “I have to know!” Winston snapped.

  “That will defeat the purpose. If this gunman is determined to find your daughter, they will start with you first.” Cutter allowed the words to linger before resuming. “Ms. Rush. You will pack a bag in the next few minutes. You are not to take your cell phone or computer. You will follow my rules.” He turned back toward the senator, narrowing his eyes. “If we are compromised in any fashion, you will be notified immediately, Senator.”

  “Mr. Rush. The FBI is taking these threats very seriously. They will be handling the actual case from here as you requested.” Jeff smiled, trying to cut the tension.

  Winston rubbed his eyes. “Fine. Fine. What do I need to do?”

  “Other than providing cash, nothing else at this time. Do not tell anyone of our conversation other than the FBI.” Cutter could tell Jasmine was nervous, but there was another fleeting expression.

  Excitement.

  * * *

  Jasmine realized she was shaking and hadn’t been able to stop since arriving home. Being shuttled into a police car outside the concert hall, rushed onto a damn, tiny plane, then taken home the back way on winding roads in the middle of the night had been debilitating. There’d been the hundreds of questions from the police, then the FBI. She was exhausted and agitated. No one seemed to give a shit. She was only a singer after all. Not a single member of the band had seemed concerned. Seeing her father’s face and hearing his angry, insulting words had been the horrific icing on the cake. Once again, she’d failed her father.

  As if the fuckhead attempting to kill her wasn’t the one to blame. She should have taken the threats more seriously. Anger mixed with self-doubt and she was forced to shove the tears back in a box. Damn it! She was stronger than this. Where the hell was she going again? Oh, yeah, some bum-fuck hole in the wall. Fantastic.

  She shoved a few things in a bag and her thoughts drifted to the bodyguard. Easing down onto her bed, she bit her lower lip. She was wet and hot, the reaction ridiculous. He was nothing but a hired gun, someone paid very well to keep her alive. However, he was gorgeous, sinfully so. Tall with broad shoulders, muscular legs highlighted in a pair of tight jeans, and his eyes penetrated into her very soul.

  She wrung her hands together, the tingling creating an odd sensation in her stomach. Even her nipples were hard, her breasts aching. She’d never had this kind of reaction with Johnny, the sick son of a bitch. She realized she’d started fucking him to get back at her father, nothing more. However, no man would be good enough for Daddy’s little girl.

  Pressing her knuckles to her mouth, she fought the moan bubbling up from her throat. She was going into hiding, cut off from everyone she knew. Would the asshole try and find her? If only she had a clue who was stalking her. The FBI agent had been less than friendly, his tone and demeanor mocking her, fitting right in with her father’s chastising statement.

  “I told you that your foray into fornication would get you into trouble. You used to be a good girl, at least while you were under my control and under my roof.”

  Which meant when he was disciplining her, spanking her to keep her in line. The fact that she’d grown up continued to piss him off. He could no longer plant her over his knee, spanking her for the simplest infraction. “Too bad, Daddy. I’m a grown woman now.” Saying the words out loud
made her laugh. She was almost twenty-four years old and she still worried about what her father thought.

  No more.

  Tap. Tap.

  “Yes?”

  Cutter opened the door. “We need to get going.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  Cocking his head, he remained exactly where he was.

  Jasmine sensed he refused to take her princess like bullshit. Pushing the envelope wasn’t going to help the situation in any manner. “I’ll be right there. Can I take my guitar?” They locked eyes for at least a full minute and she could tell her lower lip was trembling. All alone with a gorgeous man.

  He looked down at her guitar case, blinking several times before answering. “That’s fine. We have room.”

  “Okay. Good. God knows I need something to do.” Mumbling under her breath, she rose to her feet. Maybe there would be a few delicious times. What the hell was she doing? She certainly couldn’t think this way. She grabbed the rest of her things and rolled the suitcase into the living room. “I’m ready.”

  “No cellphone?” Cutter asked as her father handed him a sealed envelope.

  “No. I left it in my bedroom,” Jasmine mumbled. “On my dresser.”

  “That will work. The FBI agent will need to check your incoming calls and texts. They may find a clue that helps.” Jeff walked toward Cutter, sliding an envelope from his jacket. “Here are the particulars including the address of where you’re going as well as a set of keys. Everything should be in order. I took care of opening up the place myself to avoid having anyone else know where you’re going. Here is a burner phone to use if you need to.”

  While the other security person was keeping his voice hushed, she’d heard most of their discussion. She held her breath as shivers jetted down the back of her legs. This was insane. Her life was being placed on hold for what? A freak. A jerkoff.

  Cutter nodded. “Understood.”

  “Make contact in two days but do so away from the house.” Jeff glanced over at Jasmine. “Everything will be all right. Usually these things are solved within five days, a week at most.”

  “A week?” Winston snarled. “Those damn agents had better find this son of a bitch before then.”

  Jasmine cringed as her father’s face became beet red. She hated his anger, loathed his controlling methods. He’d always considered himself entitled.

  “And what are you taking that blasted guitar for? This isn’t about your damn career!” Winston exploded.

  “She will need to keep sane, Mr. Rush,” Cutter growled, his tone full of anger.

  Her father was ready to advance, punch the bodyguard. There was a moment that she wanted her father to try. Pushing the thought away, she exhaled. “Playing helps with the nerves, Daddy.”

  Winston scoffed and shook his head. “We wouldn’t be in this place if your damn, bleeding-heart mother hadn’t purchased the guitar in the first place.”

  “Leave my mother alone!” Jasmine snapped.

  “Easy, everyone,” Jeff said quietly. He nodded to Cutter. “I’ll email you details from the FBI.”

  “Fine. Let’s get going.” Nodding, Cutter grabbed her bag and guitar case and headed for the door.

  She lingered, waiting to see if her father would give her any comfort.

  There was none.

  Discouraged, she trailed behind Cutter.

  “Stay there until I double check the surrounding area. I’ll get you when the coast is clear.” Cutter walked out the door, closing it behind him.

  She rubbed her arms, fear and trepidation creating a series of stinging sensations. This was the toughest thing she’d ever had to go through. No, the second. The thought was disgusting.

  “Cutter is the best we have. You can trust him. If anyone can keep you safe, he will. Just follow what he says without question. There are reasons he’s the best at what he does.”

  Looking up at the man’s kind face, she nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Gammon. I appreciate your help, but I’ve been resilient for obvious reasons for years. I refuse to stop being who I am and live in fear.” She was sick to her stomach and for the first time in years, she was nothing more than a little girl, longing for her father’s arms around her. Safe. Protected. That was never going to happen again.

  Jeff moved in front of her. “There is something you need to understand. Your life is in Cutter’s hands and he takes his job very seriously. The only issues we’ve ever had in this company is when our clients refuse to follow our guidelines.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what happened to them?” Jasmine wanted nothing more than to lash out at the world.

  “They were killed.”

  The words skittered back and forth in her mind.

  Cutter opened the door. “All clear. Let’s go.”

  “Good luck, my friend. I think you’re going to need it.” Jeff half laughed as he nodded to Cutter.

  Cutter hovered over her, his massive body covering most of hers and opened the passenger door. He scanned the area, his head constantly moving, until he was behind locked doors.

  When she was safely in her seat, she slunk down, her breath skipping. “Your friend doesn’t like me very much.”

  “He’s my boss and at this point, neither do I, but I don’t need to have an affinity for you to keep you safe.”

  Jasmine darted a look in his direction. The words were too calculated. She wanted so much to give a nasty comment, but she was out of ammunition and far too drained.

  “Put this over you and either crawl down onto the floorboard or climb in the back,” Cutter directed, handing her a dark cloak.

  “I will not.” The tiny space behind the seat was only enough for a dog, maybe two.

  Cutter held the material, unblinking. Unmoving.

  “Why? Are you that scared?” she snarked, unable to shut down her caustic mouth.

  “There are about a dozen members of the press ready to snap your picture. I don’t think we want your face out on the internet to give our would-be killer a place to start his hunt for you. Don’t you agree, Ms. Rush?”

  The words were chilling, disturbing and jolted her into reality. “Okay. I get it. I can fit here just fine.” Jerking the wrap out of his hand, she managed to crawl down to the floor. She threw the cover over her head, wishing she could just fade away. Although she was crammed into the space, she rocked back and forth, humming to the sound of the engine.

  The truck rumbled through the neighborhood.

  “Bastards,” Cutter hissed, the sound mumbled.

  She closed her eyes and for some reason, started to laugh. The entire situation was preposterous.

  “Are you all right?”

  Sticking her head out of the blanket, she peered up. The angle gave her an incredible view of his long, muscular legs, his broad chest. “I bet you’re thrilled to be here with me.”

  Cutter dropped his gaze then motioned to drag the cover back in position.

  He wasn’t going to talk to her or try and make her feel any better. “Yes, sir.” Did she catch a fleeting glimmer in his eyes when she issued the words? She huddled against the dashboard, her mind sliding into her favorite fantasy. A man’s utter and complete control. Taking her in hand, spanking and disciplining at will. She bit her lip to keep from moaning.

  After another few minutes, he cleared his throat. “You can sit up now.”

  Jasmine wasn’t certain she minded the shadowed hole, similar to hiding in the closet when her parents used to fight. Struggling, she eased back onto the seat, keeping the blanket across her lap. He’d driven almost out of the county limits. “I’m sorry about my father. He’s an asshole at times.”

  Cutter shifted in his seat but said nothing. Both hands were on the wheel.

  “You don’t say much. Why?”

  “Because I’m here to do a job.” Cutter’s answer was clipped, even strangled.

  Jasmine could tell he was tense, anxious around her. She leaned against the passenger window, uncertain of what to say. “Thank you for sta
nding up for me. I just hate being around him.” They were out of the neighborhood and heading in what she thought was the direction of the interstate before she finally looked out the windshield.

  “Your father is…” He sucked in his breath.

  “An asshole. You can say it. I don’t mind one bit. He’s a controlling, domineering jerk and there are many times I wish I’d grown up with only my mother in the house. But that was never to be.” She blinked, forcing back the tears. After the horrific event at the concert, she’d tried so hard not to cry or even react. Now? She was petrified. Reality had finally reached home. She was in danger.

  “He’s worried about you as he should be.”

  Snorting, she laughed nervously. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. My father would just as soon push me out of his life completely. I’m an embarrassment to his powerful friends. You see, their children are in law or medical school at some of the finest universities in the country. They have aspirations like becoming President or at least the CEO of a major corporation. Mr. Winston Churchill Rush’s daughter is a lowly singer, a girl hell bent on giving away her body for favors, for fame. Can you imagine the talk at the dinner tables? Can you hear the disgust in their voices as they talk about poor little Jasmine Rush?” Her laughter continued. This was the first time she’d ever admitted the truth. She was nothing but a heavy chain around her father’s neck.

  “Is that why you manage to follow in your father’s footsteps?”

  The question was biting, riling the inner bitch. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “It means that if you were my daughter, I’d likely wash your mouth out with soap. You push hard because you’re starving for attention and I don’t mean from all those adoring fans you’ve amassed. You simply want and need your father’s love.”

  Befuddled, she pressed the back of her hand over her mouth. The man sitting next to her, a complete stranger with dark and cutting eyes, a terrifying yet darkly passionate demeanor had managed to see right through her and her fake bravado. “I don’t need anyone’s love. I just want to be able to live my life.” Liar, liar.

  Cutter exhaled, his finger now tapping on the steering wheel. He concentrated on driving for several minutes, moving onto the interstate and checking the rearview mirror every few seconds. “Your life is what you make of it, Jasmine. You are not your father, nor do you have to follow in his footsteps. You are a beautiful and successful woman. Remember that. You don’t need his affirmation for every step you make. Make your own decisions and be proud of them.”