by Livia Grant
"I have your fudge for you now, Miss Monroe." A friendly face, she reached out to link her hand through Peter's bent arm, feeling better to be with someone she knew. She even reached out to pick up the smallest bite-sized piece of the luscious dessert and popped it into her mouth, letting the sweet chocolate melt in her mouth slowly. It was heavenly. Her low groan of delight lit the coffee-boy's face up in a lopsided grin.
"That was without a doubt the best fudge I've ever had. Thank you, Peter."
He had picked up another piece and was holding it out for her to take another bite when Jaxson wrapped his arm around and pulled her away from Peter.
"I let it go before the movie because I knew you were nervous enough, but you've lost too much weight. We're gonna take you out for a big, healthy dinner and try to put get some good food in you. Let's head out."
Peter looked crestfallen as Jaxson pulled her away. She barely had time to call out to him, "Thanks again," before trying to pull away from Jaxson and his heavy-handed crap.
"I'm not a child, Davidson. I think I can decide what I'll eat and when," she complained.
He stopped them long enough to lecture her quietly. "You called us for our help. Sorry, kiddo, but this is how I help. If you can't take better care of yourself, I'll be happy to help."
"But––"
He cut her off, leaning in to talk against her ear. "Chase told me about your past eating disorder. I understand how being stressed can trigger old habits."
"Chase has a big mouth," she muttered.
Jaxson's naughty grin disarmed her anger. "Yes, he does, but it feels oh so good." It took her a second to realize his meaning, but when she did, she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she broke out into a full-body blush. He teased her. "You're almost as adorable as Emma when you blush. Now come on. Let's find you some food."
Trevor met them in the lobby of the theater. The party was in full swing with drinks flowing freely as fans, studio personnel and the media mingled. The scowl on her bodyguard's face as he caught up with her told her he wasn't happy.
"I thought I told you to stay put in the theater until I could escort you out. I lost sight of you for almost five minutes. You gave me a fucking heart attack."
"I'm sorry. The crowd was too heavy. I kinda got swept away there for a few minutes, but Jaxson was with me."
For the first time Trevor had to acknowledge the only man as tall as he was in the room. "I was with her when she phoned you and Chase for help." He stopped talking, but she knew the words he'd left unspoken; 'I tried to talk her out of it because I don't need your damn help to protect her'.
Jaxson was unfazed by Trevor's grousing attitude. "Being old friends with Khloe, it was great that we could be here on her big night. We're on the same team, after all."
Trevor took the bait. "What team is that?"
Jaxson took a step closer, leaning in to answer. "The 'keep Khloe safe from assholes' team."
The tall men stood chest to chest, sizing each other up for a few long seconds before Trevor sighed, stepping back and replying, "Yeah, I guess I'm good with getting help from people we can trust for that team." He finally looked back at Khloe before adding an emotional, "I'll do anything to make sure she stays safe."
Memories of his kiss... his declaration of love... they flooded back, making her feel uncomfortable. She loved Trevor like a brother, but the look he was presently devouring her with was anything but brotherly. Of course, Jaxson noticed.
"Is there something going on here I should know about?" her friend asked.
To his credit, Trevor answered in unison with her in their joint, "No."
The emotional ups and downs of the night were taking their toll on her. She'd had exactly one glass of champagne and a bite of chocolate fudge in the last twelve hours. The thought of eating the heavy food of the party terrified her because she knew it would be followed by a nearly uncontrollable urge to purge. She fought to remain calm as a waiter stopped with a tray of appetizers, waving him off before Jaxson could lecture her more.
The press of the crowd grew worse, but she was grateful for Jaxson and Trevor working together to help her weave through the throng of guests, stopping for photos and quick hellos as they slowly made their way towards the exit. They eventually met up with Chase and Emma near the door to the outdoor red carpet. Remembering she was supposed to be in love, she looked around the crowded lobby, but Dean was nowhere to be seen.
He's probably off banging some groupie. That'll be a great headline in the tabloids. Good thing I'm not counting on him to protect me.
Trevor peeled off to meet Darius who had called to bring her limo around, leaving her in Jaxson and Chase's care. She kept her celebrity smile plastered on her sweaty face as they finally made it out into the now cooler evening breeze. Her three famous escorts were garnering as much attention as she was, making forward progress slow.
She was shocked that the studio hadn't made the public crowds disperse. If anything, there were more people crowding the sidewalk and entry plaza as they tried to make their way to the curb. The stanchions that had held fans back on the way in were now pressed aside, allowing shouting admirers to surround her–touch her– as she made her way through the throng.
Within minutes, things went from packed to mild chaos. Trevor shouted to her from the curb, but she lost sight of him as people pressed in. Remembering that any one of these people could be her stalker filled her with renewed terror. She took comfort that Jaxson, Chase and Emma were pressing through the crush alongside her. A stalker would have to go through them before they could whisk her away.
When the paparazzi pressed through the mob to start taking photos, Trevor shoved the aggressive photographer aside sending his expensive camera to the concrete. The cameraperson lashed out, trying to tackle her bodyguard. Darius jumped into the fray as all hell broke loose. Women screamed, not knowing what was happening. Men either moved out of the way, or a few aggressors joined in the fisticuffs, happy for a little excitement.
Jaxson yelled to Chase, "Stick with Emma! Don't let anyone touch her." He then stooped to pick up Khloe in his arms before pressing through the crowd assertively, making a path for them and his lovers who followed close behind. She could feel her flowing satin gown hanging down, trying to trip up Jaxson as he made slow progress through the pushing and shoving. All she could do to help was grab up her dress, trying not to flash the swarm in the process.
As they got to the curb, they discovered her limo had not arrived yet. Jaxson raised his hand, ready to flag a passing cab in the crawling traffic. Before a taxi could weave to the curb, a rumbling Harley Davidson motorcycle came barreling through the street, weaving between the gridlocked cars, limos, and SUVs. It was the only vehicle making any progress at all. As it neared the theater, the roar of the engine temporarily doused the chaos as everyone stopped to watch the lone rider drive the heavy bike up onto the sidewalk. The crazy driver barged through the throng, prepared to mow over anyone who got in his way until he ground to a fast halt directly in front of Khloe and Jaxson.
Her heart almost stopped with fear. This was it. This had to be her stalker making his move–riding in to whisk her away on his two-wheeled, powerful chopper. She suspected if he got her on that bike, there would be no saving her as only another motorcycle could cut through the traffic on Hollywood Boulevard to pursue them.
She held her breath, shrinking away from the motorcyclist to burrow into Jaxson's embrace as the driver stood, holding his ride upright between his leather-covered legs. Fight or flight instincts had Khloe wiggling in Jaxson's arms, willing him to move his feet in the opposite direction–away from the danger. But instead, he moved forward, almost as if he was ready to hand her over without a care. Regret mingled with her fear. Regret at trusting the wrong men.
They were only a few feet away from the motorcycle when the cyclist removed his helmet. Time ceased, paralyzing her with shock. Khloe was figuratively knocked silly as the driver's identity became clear.
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"Hi, Princess."
It was Ryder. The man she'd dreamt of almost every night since they'd parted. The man who had mastered her–body and soul.
The man who had left her, telling her they would never see each other again.
She was speechless, but Jaxson didn't suffer from the same affliction. "I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind, Helms, and had decided that taking care of Khloe wasn't your job."
"Fuck you, Davidson. It's no one else's job but mine." He turned his piercing blue eyes on her again, this time demanding, "Hop on, Princess."
She somehow found her voice. "Are you nuts?"
A loud bang cut through the air. It was probably a car backfiring, but to an inexperienced ear, it could easily have been a gunshot. She frantically searched the crowd, relieved to see Trevor still on his feet, detaining several photographers. He glanced her way, worry on his brow, but too far away to be of any help to her.
Her heart had restarted and now banged hard in her chest, a combination of adrenaline and the appearance of Ryder Helms its fuel. When Trevor realized the motorcycle was next to her, he started pressing through the crowd, desperate to get to her. Another loud clap and she flinched.
Jaxson set her feet on the ground, but thankfully kept his arm wrapped protectively around her. She realized too late he was moving them forward, closing the last few feet until she was only inches away from Ryder.
He was more handsome than she remembered, dripping dominance as he dared to look her up and down, examining her as if to evaluate her for injuries. She didn't like his assessment.
"Jesus Christ, you're fucking starving yourself."
His words woke her from her trance. "What's it to you?"
His hands clamped onto her bare upper arms, yanking her so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. "I don't take kindly to anyone harming what's mine, and that includes self-harm."
"Yours?" she scoffed. "You're delusional. You left, making it abundantly clear you couldn't wait to slink away after you'd had your fun debasing a celebrity." She was practically shouting to be heard over the motor.
He flinched, but didn't apologize. "I came back as soon as I could. We don't have time for a chitchat. Let's get the hell out of here. Now."
He really was crazy. Even if she wanted to go with him... as if every fiber of her being wasn't already drawn to him like a powerful magnet... how was she supposed to ride on a motorcycle in her ten-thousand-dollar satin, beaded gown? Unaware she thought he was crazy, Ryder pulled a second helmet from the back of the bike, reaching out to jam it over her coifed hair that Randy had spent an hour on, effectively smashing it to her head.
If she thought Jaxson would help her, she was wrong. On the contrary, he was helping Ryder fasten her helmet and then scooped her up to place her on the back of the bike, leaning down to bunch up her flowing skirts and lifting them to her waist, exposing her long, thin legs to the screaming crowd. He pressed the wad of fabric between their bodies, using his left hand to press her forward, closer to the man she'd never thought she'd see again.
Jaxson yelled against her ear to be heard, "It's getting out of control. I'll tell your bodyguard who you're with and let him know you're safe with Helms."
Their eyes met as she questioned him. "Am I?" She couldn't stop the words from spilling from her mouth. "Am I safe?" she pressed her friend, truly not knowing who to trust anymore.
Jaxson looked her in the eyes and answered with what she recognized as confidence. "I never would have told him where to find you if I didn't trust him. He has the right skills. He's the best man to protect you right now."
He didn't give her a chance to argue, lowering the smoky visor on her helmet before taking a step back towards the curb. Behind Jax she saw the flash of cameras taking her photo as fans pushed and shoved against the line of security, trying to get to her like a rabid mob.
She forced herself to look away from the chaos as it made her want to puke. Ryder had put his own helmet back on. Just before he put the motorcycle in motion again, he leaned back, shouting to her over the roar of the engine. "Hang on tight, Princess."
As the bike jutted forward, ready to weave through the cars moving at a snail's pace, she did as she was told, clutching at him to avoid falling off and finally hugging him so tight she heard him chuckle.
"I missed you too, baby"
Chapter 10
Ryder was grateful that it was impossible to have a conversation over the roar of the powerful motorcycle beneath them. He'd need every minute of their trip to get his head on straight. Driving up to find Khloe surrounded by the out-of-control crowd, cradled in Davidson's arms, had affected him in ways he was afraid to examine too closely.
He'd come prepared to be her protector, telling himself he would resist the temptation to be more. What he hadn't been prepared for was the vulnerability he saw in her expressive eyes as she'd recognized him. On the one hand, he should be happy she hadn't been afraid of him. Considering how far he'd pushed her out of her comfort zone the last time they'd seen each other, he wouldn't have blamed her if she'd run screaming from him.
The engine roared louder as he picked up speed. Traffic thinned once they were outside of the congested tourist area. As he banked around a corner at the entrance to the expressway, he reveled in the way his beautiful passenger hugged him tighter. The press of her breasts against his back revved up his libido.
Before he merged with the northbound traffic, Ryder brought the bike to a stop along the edge of the highway. He shook out of his leather jacket, turning his body to wrap it around Khloe's shoulders.
When she didn't move to put her arms through the sleeves, he prodded her. "Put it on." There was no arguing.
She eyed him suspiciously, but followed his directions. He should tell her to zip it up, but he was a dickhead, preferring to feel the chilled nipples he could see straining against her evening gown pressing against his black T-shirt instead.
Their eyes met. He saw so many questions there. Questions he wasn't sure he had answers to. He couldn't resist the urge raise her visor, cupping her rosy cheek through the opening as he gave her the only information she needed at the moment.
"We're heading north about twenty miles. Hang on tight, Princess."
"Ryder..." He saw her confusion at his sudden appearance.
"I know. We have a lot to talk about. For now, just try to enjoy the ride."
He lowered her visor and waited until she'd wrapped her arms around his waist again to pull the powerful machine out into fast moving traffic.
It had been a while since he'd ridden. He'd forgotten how much he loved it. Like it or not, motorcycles were an important part of his life. Having Khloe riding with him made it close to perfect, yet as much as he enjoyed the warmth of her body pressed against his back, he couldn't entirely ignore the nervousness growing in his gut with every mile he put behind them. Figuring out how to protect the celebrity on the back of the bike without getting dead first was just one thing weighing on him.
Three years. That's how long it had been since he'd been home for a visit, if he could call it that. He'd been home less than twenty-four hours last time before he'd packed his bag and left. As he passed an exit with several low-end motels, he contemplated changing his plan. No one was expecting him. They could check-in to a seedy hotel and none would be the wiser.
But Khloe Monroe deserved better than that, and like it or not, he needed to try to clear the air with his father before it was too late. He'd pretended his aunt's emails hadn't impacted him, but the truth was that facing death so many times in the last year on the job had forced him to face his own mortality, something deep cover agents normally avoided at all costs.
By the time they reached their exit, he had his emotions in check. He observed the town he'd grown up in with reserved interest. Southern California expansion had reached Santa Clarita, making it a medium sized city now. New mixed with old, bringing back memories, both good and bad. There was no avoiding The Office a
s it was on the main highway that ran through the heart of the town. He slowed, but didn't stop, observing the dozens of motorcycles parked in the oversized parking lot of the building he'd spent most of his formative years in.
Except he was no longer welcome there and that was fine with him.
He turned onto Canyon Ridge Trail. The road in front of them inclined sharply as he began the last leg of their trip for the night. The path was dark, street lamps few and far between on the edge of the protected federal parkland where hiking trails were more common than paved streets. Up ahead he saw the bright lights of the last all-night gas station they'd pass. He pulled in, parking at the door to the small but well-lit convenience store attached to the station.
They were plunged into silence as he turned off the engine. Despite stopping, Khloe still clung to him and he almost hated to break their connection. His hands found hers at his waist, twining their fingers together for a few seconds before gently pulling her arms apart, He took off his helmet, but as she moved to do the same, he stopped her.
"Leave it on. I don't want anyone to recognize you." Even through the visor, he saw understanding in her brown eyes. "Stay here. I'll only be inside a few minutes."
She argued, "I don't want to be alone out here. Can't I come in?"
"In your elegant gown? I don't think so." He reassured her. "It'll be okay. I promise."
She didn't look convinced.
He unbuckled his duffle bag from the back of the bike and headed inside. They'd need supplies for at least a few days. True to his word, it only took him a few minutes to pick up what they'd need and pay. He could see the relief in his passenger's eyes when he returned, enjoying the extra tight hug she gave him once he was seated again. After months spent apart, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was finally home, but he suspected the feeling had nothing to do with their physical location.