by L. A. Witt
The other part of me? Yeah. That wasn’t protective or altruistic or anything besides selfish, horny, and way, way too caught up in someone who shouldn’t have had me tongue-tied and stumbling like this.
We never should have touched. We definitely shouldn’t have kissed. I still had a cut healing on my forehead and two Taser burns that were still tender because of Troy’s psychotic ex-boyfriend. The same psychotic ex-boyfriend who I was supposed to be protecting him from, and who I’d probably piss off royally if I got involved with Troy. Which I shouldn’t for millions of reasons. There was no sane, rational reason why I should let myself even think of getting close to him.
But it didn’t need to be sane or rational to be real.
And this was definitely real.
And fucking insane.
But he still needed a bodyguard, and what I needed was some advice from someone who wasn’t in a position to derail my career. And who was geographically far enough away to minimize the risk of an ass-kicking that I probably richly deserved.
I dug my phone out of my pocket and called up Jason.
“Hey, Iskander,” he said. “How are things going with that protective detail?”
“Well…” I glanced at the bathroom door, which was still closed.
“Oh shit.” He exhaled. “What’s going on?”
I cleared my throat. “I…it’s a long story. But there’s something I need to ask about.”
“Sure thing.”
I gnawed my lip. I’d thought of about a hundred ways I could phrase this without incriminating myself, but I’d learned a long, long time ago that there was only so much “I’m asking for a friend” and “hypothetically speaking…” I could get past Jason before he called me out on my bullshit. “This is confidential, right? Off the record?”
“Always. You know that.”
“So it turns out there’s definitely someone fucking with the admiral’s kid.”
“Aw, shit.”
“Yeah. An ex.”
Jason laughed bitterly. “It’s always the goddamned exes, isn’t it?”
“Right?” I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. “And this one is a real piece of work.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m about ninety-five percent sure the kid’s got PTSD thanks to this guy. I mean, I know he’s got PTSD. And it’s most likely because of this fucker.”
“Shit, man.”
“Seriously. And the kicker is that the ex apparently has that ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ mentality. Troy so much as looks at another man, he flips his shit.”
Jason whistled. “Fuck. And we all know those types aren’t volatile or anything.”
“Exactly. And, um…”
“What’s going on?”
“Well, the thing is, I’m supposed to be protecting Troy from this guy. And I…” I cringed inwardly. “I think I might’ve put myself in the guy’s crosshairs.”
Jason gave a dry laugh. “The kid got a bit of a crush on you, eh?”
“Uh, well…” I cleared my throat.
The line was silent for a few seconds.
“Iskander. Dude.” Jason’s voice bordered on a growl. “Please tell me I’m not reading between the right lines.”
“Um…”
“Oh Jesus.” He sighed heavily, and I could almost see him face-palming as he often did. “Man, what were you thinking?”
“Is this the part where I swoon about all that romantic crap about ‘it just happened’ and—”
“Do it. I dare you.”
I swallowed. “All right, all joking aside, this wasn’t what I set out to do. We just… Look, you spend enough time around someone, stuff happens. You know that.”
“Yes, I do,” he snapped. “But I’ve never fucked around with someone who’s going to wind up on the wrong end of a psycho if I do.”
I flinched. “I know. God, I know.” I took a deep breath. “Listen, you and everyone else can lecture me about it when this is all over, but I’m in a really, really bad spot because of this, and I need some advice. I know I fucked up, but let’s put out the fire before we worry about how I started it, all right?”
Jason exhaled. “Fine. Okay.”
I sat back against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know what to do at this point. The ex thought we were together before we ever laid a hand on each other. Whether the relationship is real or not”—God, it’s so, so real—“his ex thinks it is.”
“I see.”
“Just being seen with Troy is going to set off the ex. Which means I’m putting him in more danger just by being there. Which means I can’t do my job. I can’t protect him if I can’t be with him, and I—”
“Yeah, I hear what you’re saying.” Jason blew out a breath. “Shit. That’s a tough spot.” He was silent for a long moment, probably mulling everything over, knowing him. “Okay, first of all, you’re a fucking idiot for putting your dick in someone you’re assigned to protect. But you knew that. You’ve heard enough stories about bodyguards fucking officers’ wives and getting their own asses handed to them.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
He exhaled sharply, and I guessed he was biting back a long, colorful tirade that would’ve melted my phone. Fortunately, though, he knew when to focus on the situation at hand instead of ripping me a new one. That would come later.
“Bottom line,” he said, “this guy’s got it out for anyone who lays a hand on Troy. And if you’re fucking Troy and you’re around him, then you’re a magnet for the psycho. There’s a good chance you’re going to get hurt, and so is he.”
I shuddered. I was already all too well aware of Ben’s violent streak.
Jason went on. “Fact is, Ayhan, all ethics and idiocy aside, the very fact that you’re sleeping with him means you’re a danger to him. The thing is, even if the crazy ex is only putting you two together in his mind, all it’ll take is you and the kid giving each other a look, or making a flirty comment, or even just walking too close together to confirm what he already thinks and set him off.”
I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. The shower shut off in the next room, and my heart beat faster. “So what should I do?”
“You mean besides—”
“Yes. Besides that.”
“Well, my thought is that what he needs is a different bodyguard.”
I swallowed. “You’re probably right. Assuming the ex doesn’t think the new bodyguard is a new boyfriend.”
“Does the kid go both ways? Or is he just gay?”
“Gay. I don’t think he’s ever looked twice at a woman.”
“I’d bet money the ex knows that, then. Get him a female bodyguard. Problem solved.”
“Good idea,” I whispered.
“And for fuck’s sake, Iskander, don’t get involved with this goddamned kid!”
“I know. I know. I’ll talk to the admiral tomorrow about getting him a female bodyguard.”
“Good. And you’ll talk to the kid?”
I cringed. “Yeah. I’ll talk to him.”
“Talk to who?”
I looked up as Troy stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist and a few drops of water clinging to his stringy black hair.
“Who’s there?” Jason asked. “Wait, is he—”
“I gotta run, Jason,” I said. “But I will. I promise.”
“You fucking idiot,” he growled, and the line went dead. I winced as I set my phone aside. I had no doubt he’d be reading me the riot act soon.
“What was that all about?” Troy asked.
“Just a buddy of mine I used to work with.” I waved a hand and got up off the bed. “Let me grab that shower, and we can get out of here.”
He smiled and kissed me lightly before I headed into the bathroom
.
As I stood under the hot water, body aching all over from having such amazing sex with Troy, I couldn’t stop hearing Jason’s voice. I’d known what he would say, and I knew he was right. I was an idiot for even getting into this. But how to get out of it without hurting Troy or leaving him vulnerable while a new bodyguard arrangement was set up?
Yeah. Great going, Ayhan. Way to be the responsible adult.
This couldn’t continue. There were millions of reasons, but the most compelling was that I couldn’t put Troy in his ex-boyfriend’s crosshairs like that. If the guy wanted to fuck with me, then so be it, but I’d never sleep again if he so much as laid a finger on Troy.
First things first—a new bodyguard. I could get that ball rolling without tipping my hand to Dalton that I’d slept with his son, and without tipping my hand to Troy that we couldn’t keep sleeping together. The psycho thought we were dating, so putting a female master-at-arms at Troy’s side would solve that problem. And I wasn’t worried about a woman being able to handle the job—some of the toughest, ballsiest MAs I knew were female.
Once that was squared away, well…
I’d cross that bridge when I got there. One thing at a time.
After I’d showered, I dried off, put on my uniform and returned to the bedroom. Troy was lounging on my bed, phone in hand and thumbs moving rapidly over the screen. Probably texting someone or catching up on e-mail. And damn if he didn’t look good like that, reclining and relaxed with his damp hair carefully arranged into messy black spikes and his eyeliner meticulously reapplied.
He smiled over his phone. “Think we still have time to get to class?”
“Probably, but…” I busied myself pulling on my boots.
The mattress protested as Troy sat up. “What?”
“I think…” I pulled the laces tight. “I think we need to sit down with your dad.”
“What? Why?”
“Even if Ben doesn’t know we’re dating, he has his suspicions.” I turned to Troy and held his wide-eyed gaze. “I think you’re better off with a bodyguard who absolutely won’t rouse his suspicions.”
“Yeah?” He laughed dryly. “So you want to pick one based on what he knows about my taste in men?”
“Sort of.” I reached for my other boot. “I was thinking a female.”
“A—” He sat straighter and then blew out a breath. “Yeah, he’d never suspect anything with a woman.”
Searching his eyes, I said, “He knows you’re completely gay? Not even a little bit bi?”
Troy nodded.
I took his hand. “Then this is probably the best thing. I’ll still be on your security team, just not your bodyguard.”
He pursed his lips but didn’t argue.
“Let’s go.” I kissed his fingers. “We should talk to your dad about this sooner than later.”
“Good idea,” he whispered.
Our eyes locked, and the question in his was as clear as if he’d written it across his forehead in eyeliner: What about us?
I didn’t have an answer. Not one I could stomach giving him right then, anyway.
Without a word, we left my apartment and headed downstairs.
Two steps into the parking lot, though, I stopped dead in my tracks. “Oh fuck.”
“What’s wrong? Oh—” Troy halted. “Oh my God.”
My windshield was completely destroyed. It hadn’t caved in completely, but dense spider-web cracks covered every inch of it. Whoever had done this had hit it at least a dozen times with something solid, and they’d put a massive dent in the hood just for good measure.
Beside me, Troy sucked in a breath. “Holy shit.”
“Back inside.” I took him by the shoulders and turned him around, herding him back in through the security door. Once it was closed behind us, the bolt’s click echoing through the empty stairwell, I released him, and we leaned against the walls opposite each other.
“This isn’t a great neighborhood,” I said, “but I’m pretty goddamned sure that wasn’t random.”
“No, probably not.” He was shaking now. Badly.
I touched his shoulders. “Troy, look at me. Stay with me, okay?”
He met my eyes, swallowing hard, but stayed focused.
“We need to get a police report,” I said. “Let’s go back upstairs, and I’ll call the cops. Then we can grab a taxi back to your place.”
Troy shivered, but he didn’t protest.
The police took their sweet time but eventually showed up to take a report. One of them stayed up in my apartment with Troy while the other went outside with me to take a look at the car. I made an appointment with a windshield repair company for the next day, and then called a cab to take us over to Dalton’s place.
On the way up the front porch steps, Troy halted, and without thinking, I did too. “Before we go in there,” he said flatly, “I need to know how much you’re going to tell him.”
I swallowed. “How much should I tell him?”
“I don’t want him to know it’s Ben.”
“Troy…” I sighed. “This is serious.”
“I know it is. And I’m serious about not telling him about my ex.” His voice was unsteady, but at the same time held an unusually hard edge, as if he was terrified but also planting his feet.
“What are you so afraid of?” I kept my tone as gentle as I could. “He’s dangerous, Troy. Your father wants to protect you, so if we—”
“I can’t,” he whispered, eyes wide and locked on mine. “Please, Iskander. If you think I should have a chick for a bodyguard, fine. If we shouldn’t be seen anywhere outside the house, fine.” We shouldn’t be together anywhere, Troy. “But I can’t tell him why.”
I chewed my lip. Goddammit. “Fine. But if we get you a female bodyguard, and this shit keeps happening…”
Troy gulped and hugged himself to mask a shudder. “We’ll see what happens.”
Well, it was a start.
“Come on.” I nodded toward the house. “Let’s talk to your dad.”
He didn’t hide the shudder that time, and we headed inside.
As soon as the front door opened, two of the dogs came out of the woodwork, barking but also wagging their tiny tails. Talos wasn’t far behind, loping down the stairs and woofing happily at Troy. Some of the tension in Troy melted away as the dog dropped onto its haunches at his feet. As nervous as the dogs made me, I had to admit, I was much more relaxed myself now that Troy had Talos at his side. If the douche bag who was fucking with him had managed to avoid getting caught for this long, he was probably smart enough not to screw with a Rottweiler the size of a small sedan.
Troy scratched behind Talos’s ears and turned to me. “Okay. I guess we should do this.”
I nodded and made an “after you” gesture.
With Talos between us, we walked down the hall toward Dalton’s office. He knocked on the door, and we both waited, Talos panting happily while my heart pounded and Troy fidgeted.
The door opened.
Dalton stiffened. “Troy? Shouldn’t you two be in class?”
“Yeah.” Troy cleared his throat. “We, uh, needed to talk to you.”
“I see. All right. I have to leave for a meeting soon, but—”
“We’ll keep it short.”
Dalton regarded us both curiously, then stepped aside. The two of us—and the dog—went into the office, and the admiral shut the door behind us. “All right. What’s this about?”
We both faced him, and my heart was beating like mad now. I stood straighter. Not quite at attention but damned close. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think I’m cut out to continue this assignment. As Troy’s bodyguard.”
The admiral cocked his head. “Why not?”
I glanced at Troy. Then, “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
He sighed. “Yes, yes. Go on.”
I swallowed. “I think Troy would be safer with a female bodyguard.”
“Female? Why?”
“Because I believe…”
Troy fidgeted beside me, tension radiating off him.
I cleared my throat. “I think whoever is stalking Troy can’t cope with the idea of him being with someone else. A woman would clearly be a friend and not something more.”
“And a uniformed, armed guard wouldn’t?”
“Apparently not.” I took a deep breath. “Someone vandalized my car this afternoon, and I’m thinking it’s—”
“What? Where did this happen? Have the police been notified?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And this happened on campus?”
I resisted the urge to rock from my heels to the balls of my feet. “Uh, no, sir.” I glanced at Troy, eyebrows up. A little help here?
Dalton inclined his head. “Where, then?”
“Um.” I coughed into my fist. “It’s—”
“Dad.” Troy shifted uncomfortably. “Just assign someone else. Please.”
The admiral’s eyes darted back and forth between his son and me. “What the hell is going on here?”
“Dad, please. We—”
Dalton cut Troy off with a sharp gesture. Eyes locked on me, he stepped closer until he was in that space generally reserved for drill instructors in boot camp—way too close, right up in my face. “MA1 Ayhan, now would be a very good time to tell me I’m completely off base in thinking that you and my son were somewhere you shouldn’t have been when your car was vandalized.”
I gulped.
Troy put a hand on his father’s arm. “Dad…”
Dalton didn’t break eye contact and didn’t even seem to notice Troy’s hand. “Explain yourself, MA1. Don’t try to bullshit me.”
My heart was going a million miles an hour. I couldn’t lie to the admiral, but I couldn’t break Troy’s confidence either.
Come on, Troy. Help me out here.
The admiral rubbed his chin. “Where exactly were the two of you when MA1 Ayhan’s car was vandalized?”
Troy shifted uncomfortably. So did I.