Captive: A Bodyguard Romance (Hollywood Guardians Book 1)

by Heather Ashley

  "Give it back," she demands, but I hold it up out of her reach. She's not short, but I'm still taller, so I hold it over her head and open it up, flipping to the last page to see what she was working on. The black charcoal is smudged across the page in an impressive design of a girl, her hair blowing out behind her in the wind as she rides a motorcycle into the setting sun.

  "You drew this?" I ask the rhetorical question even though I already know the answer. "It's incredible."

  Gigi stops fighting to get her sketchbook back and looks up at me with uncertainty in her eyes. I hate that she doesn't know how good she is. Hasn't anyone ever told her? "Thanks. Can I have it back?"

  "Depends. Now that I've seen this one," I point to the girl on the bike, "I want it here." My hand drops to my side under the gun I had inked there a few days ago, the only blank spot left on my torso.

  She shakes her head. "Nope. That one's all for me when I get out of this hellhole and open my studio."

  "What studio?" I ask as I hand her back her sketchbook. Suddenly it feels like an invasion of privacy that I looked without her permission, but I'm hoping someday soon she'll trust me enough to want to show me. I make a mental note to tell her my name, so I don't feel like I'm lying about everything.

  "The tattoo studio I'm going to open someday." She lifts her chin like she's daring me to tell her she can't do it, but I'd never do that to her.

  "I'll save this spot for that day then, just for you." She softens, giving me a small smile from under her lashes, and I can't help but add get Gigi out of here and give her the life she wants to my mental to-do list. If she's going to be mine, I'll stop at nothing to give her everything.

  "It hasn't been a month yet, has it?" Savage asks me distractedly while I follow him through the garage like a damn puppy. If he wasn't so stubborn about this, I'd already be on my way into town.

  I pull on the back of his cut, and he stops, spinning around and finally giving me his attention. "Look, I know you'd prefer I just have everything delivered, but I get out of this hellhole once a month. Today's the day. Trust me when I say I count down the days for my one tiny taste of freedom every month, even if you force a chaperone on me. I'm leaving as soon as I find someone to take me." I cross my arms like I'm throwing a fit, but this is a hill I'm absolutely ready to die on.

  I'm a goddamn prisoner here. There's no way to spin it as anything else. I may not be locked in one of the cages in the basement, but the bump in my neck is a constant reminder of the stupid tracker Devil stuck in me when I was twelve years old. Even if I could manage to make it through the desert without dying of dehydration or heat stroke and get into town, they'd find me.

  I still hadn't figured out why Devil even wanted me around as a kid. Why would he agree to my mom's terms? It wasn't like I made him any money. Sure, I figured out how to be useful to him to stay under the radar because I saw what happened to girls who outlasted their usefulness to the club. But, now that he's dead, I'm not sure I'll ever get an answer as to why I'm even still here.

  Savage looks torn. I've seen that look on his face before, the one where he's struggling because he really doesn't want to keep me locked up here anymore, but he also doesn't know what to do with me because I know too much. Outside of being invited into their church meetings, this club and its clubhouse have been my whole world for more than a decade. I barely remember what it's like out in the real world. If it weren't for these monthly excursions into town to see the doctor or gather supplies or get a damn haircut, I wouldn't even know what the outside world looked like.

  "Did I hear you say you need an escort?" Shadow steps out of the, well, shadows like he's been there the whole damn time and was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to be the hero. He's wearing a cocky smirk that I hate a little bit because it turns me on. I peruse his body as he casually strolls over to us like he's not in a hurry at all, and my skin starts to heat, remembering what being pressed between him and the wall felt like.

  I've been remembering that a lot the past couple of days.

  In fact, I've been spending what Lola would probably refer to as the perfect amount of time replaying every last orgasm on repeat because I don't know if it's going to happen again. I want it to and don't want it to in equal measures, and that scares the shit out of me.

  I've had to repeat my mantra constantly as a reminder to stay away from the sinfully sexy biker who seems to be crafted to tempt me.

  I will not end up with a biker.

  I will not end up with a biker.

  I will not end up with a biker.

  I breathe in slowly as my gaze snaps up to his face. His eyes glitter like he knows I've been checking him out, and my entire body lights up like it has a say in how this goes and what it wants right now more than anything else is Shadow.

  My brain and my vagina really need to get on the same page because right now, if Savage tells Shadow he can take me into town and I have to spend half an hour with my body wrapped around his, I don't know what's going to happen. Based on the state of my already wet panties, I'm going to go ahead and say nothing good in my quest to get the hell away from all things Reign of Chaos.

  Savage brightens up like Shadow's the solution to the Gigi problem, and I know what's coming before the words even have a chance to leave his mouth. He turns, predictably, and grins at Shadow. "Yeah, Gigi needs an escort into town. Think you can handle her?"

  Savage looks him over like he's weighing his worthiness, and I roll my eyes. I haven't tried to run since I was a kid—not since the time I decided to try and give my escort the slip when we were in the drugstore when I was thirteen. That goddamn tracker had them finding me before I even left the parking lot.

  Shadow flicks his hazel gaze to me, and then his eyes drop down my body. Everywhere his eyes go, my body responds until goosebumps stand up all over my skin, and both he and Savage can definitely see my nipples through my thin tank top, if they look. I inwardly curse myself for not wearing a bra, but my boobs are small enough that I can get away with it most days. I may have to rethink that with Shadow around, though, if the wicked grin on his face as his eyes skip back up my body is any indication.

  "I don't think I'll have any trouble making sure Gigi gets what she needs," Shadow answers, and I don't miss the double meaning in there just for me. He steps closer to me and moves his hand to the small of my back, where his fingertips find the skin between my shorts and my shirt.

  A wave of arousal floods my whole body, and all I want to do is climb him for an encore of the other night, but I clench my jaw and try not to move. I'm practically addicted to him after one night; if I give in again, I don't know if I'll be able to walk away, and I have to walk away.

  I step forward to try and put some space between us, but he follows the movement, not allowing me to get away. "Can we go?" I snap because if I don't, I might say something I'll regret. At least if I have to deal with being wrapped around Shadow on the back of his bike, he won't be able to talk to me, and I won't have to look at his stupidly hot face.

  Shadow looks to Savage for approval which makes me want to laugh. Everything about Shadow screams alpha male asshole. He doesn't strike me as the type to take orders from anyone, but here he is, like a good little boy waiting on the okay. It's weird and feels really unnatural. I wonder if Savage notices, but then I remember Savage is sharp as hell, and I've never seen anyone get one over on him.

  Eventually, Savage nods, and I don't wait to hear anything else. I turn on my heel and hurry out of the garage before he can change his mind, or Shadow can work his voodoo sexy magic on me. I want to kick my own ass for knowing which bike is Shadow's, but I stop in front of it anyway. A lovesick child, I'm not, but damn if he doesn't make me act like one.

  "Good guess," he teases when he catches up, his lips tilted up in that cocky smirk he wears a lot. It makes me want to both smack him and fuck him, maybe at the same time. It's going to be a long afternoon.

  I'm ignoring the part of me that's hopping around e
xcitedly like a rabbit on crack because I get to spend this outing with him. Breathing in, I exhale slowly and repeat my mantra as I watch him throw his leg over the seat of his bike, the ripped black jeans he's wearing straining over his sculpted thigh.

  I will not end up with a biker.

  "Are you getting on?" he turns and asks, sliding dark sunglasses over his eyes that somehow make him ten times hotter. The way he says those four words sounds more like he wants to know if I'm about to hop on his dick and go for the ride we both want, but I ignore his tone and climb on the seat behind him.

  The seat is so hot, I squirm around. The back of my thighs are on fire, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to leave a layer of skin behind when I finally peel myself back up off the seat. Shadow rolls the bike backward before starting it. When the engine rumbles to life, the vibrations carry through the seat and straight to my clit.

  I've been on a bike a hundred times like this, going into town once a month for years, and never has it made me want to do bad things with the driver. I blame Shadow and the spark that shoots straight to my girly parts whenever he touches me. This is one hundred percent his fault, and if I don't come before we hit the Strip, it'll be a damn miracle.

  And if I do come? Somehow I think he'll know, and then I'll have to watch him gloat.

  Squeezing my thighs together the best I can with him in between them, I wrap my arms around his waist and try to ignore the ridges of his abs I can feel through his white t-shirt. I want to run my hands down them, let my fingers play in all the bumps, but I don't let myself.

  When I rest my cheek on his back just over his leather cut, he makes a sort of groan that I feel against my cheek more than I hear. I smile, knowing he can't see it. At least I'm not the only one being tortured.

  As he takes off and the dust kicks up behind us, I close my eyes and relish the wind blowing through my hair. I may not want to end up with a biker, but there's something about riding this way that feels like the ultimate freedom. Nothing is holding me in. It's just me and the open road, the wind blowing all around me.

  The ride is shorter than I remember when we pull into downtown Las Vegas. When we hit the strip and get stuck in traffic, he puts his feet down onto the ground and yells at me over his shoulder. "Where do you need to go?"

  I point over his shoulder, resting my arm against him like it's the most natural thing in the world, and truthfully it is. It's so easy to be around him, to forget everything I've promised myself and every plan I've made that it's disturbing. I lift up my arm, trying to remember to keep my distance. "Keep going that way. We'll hit up Target."

  By the time we pull into the parking lot, sweat's running between my boobs, and I feel like I need a shower. I've baked in the sun way too long thanks to the stupid traffic, and my hair's definitely plastered to my head. I've never been happier I didn't put on makeup today because at least I know I don't have raccoon eyes going on along with everything else.

  "Remember, whatever you buy, we have to take back on the bike," Shadow warns as he waits for me to climb off the bike so he can follow.

  "Yeah, I know. I've done this every month for forever." On the plus side, I didn't have an orgasm from the bike alone.

  On the minus side, when Shadow climbs off the bike, he's sweating, too, and his white shirt is clinging to every. Damn. Muscle.

  What am I supposed to do with that?

  He takes my hand before I can protest and threads our fingers together like it's no big deal, and we do this all the time. I smack down the squeeing girl inside me who's spewing nonsense at me like, can we please make him our boyfriend?

  The cool air smacks me in the face as we step through the sliding doors side-by-side, and I feel my rapid pulse slowing down in the chilled air. It's a relief, and I sort of feel like I can think clearly again. At least until he turns and grins down at me.

  Shit, when he's pissed off or being all growly and mine about things, I thought he was hot, but then he has to go and smile at me, and… fuck, did my panties just disintegrate?

  I tear my eyes off him and focus on the task at hand, grabbing one of those handheld baskets and starting toward the shampoo aisle.

  Shadow never once let go of my hand, and he reaches over and plucks the basket out of my other hand, too. "I had no idea there was a Target in Vegas," he muses.

  "What, you thought everyone who lived here bought their shampoo and dish soap at the Bellagio or something?"

  He laughs, and it's this deep sound I feel all the way down to my lower belly. "I guess I never really thought about it. The last time I was here was for a wedding, so I was a bit distracted."

  I step into the aisle and start scanning for the bottle of my favorite shampoo while he trails along behind me, still refusing to let my hand go. Not that I'm complaining. I grab it and unscrew the top awkwardly with one hand, sniffing at the citrusy scent and sighing at the familiarity of it. He watches me with amusement but wisely doesn't say anything.

  I never said I wasn't weird.

  "Who was getting married?" I ask as I start to wander. Since I only get this one chance to get out, I like to roam the aisles sort of aimlessly to see if anything else catches my attention.

  "A couple of my clients. They're also good friends."

  I set down the sparkly purple nail polish I was inspecting and look up at him wondering what he did for work but not wanting to intrude too much. A few of the guys in the club had outside jobs so it wasn’t all that unusual. "They were marrying each other?"

  He shakes his head, and I tug him along toward the candles. I'm going to sniff every single one just to see if it pisses him off. "Two sets of friends got married at the same time. For some reason, the entire group made it a thing that I'm the one to marry them. So, I've officially married four sets of friends with one more on the schedule."

  My eyes narrow as I study him. "You're making that up," I accuse, holding my glare while I sniff at a candle called Sherbert and try not to sneeze at the intense fruity scent.

  "Nope. It's now some sort of tradition with them."

  "I'd pay good money to watch you get all gushy and in all the feelings." I laugh a little because the mental picture of this inked up, shredded biker dressing up all fancy and chattering on about love and commitment, and who knows what else is too much. I sober quickly when I realize the way things are going, I'll never get the chance to see him anywhere outside the club.

  Then I want to smack myself for even thinking about seeing him in any capacity outside of passing interest.

  He notices my mood change and reaches over to tip my chin up so he's looking right into my eyes as if he can read every thought I'm having. Shadow must realize where I went because he softens even as his jaw tics. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he hates how I'm chained to the club almost as much as I do. "Let's get out of here and grab lunch."

  I blink at his change of subject. "We can't. If we don't go straight back, Savage will be pissed, and I wouldn't put it past him to send out a search party." Patting my neck where the little bump sticks out, Shadow watches the movement with darkening eyes that this one time definitely don't have anything to do with how much he wants me. He has this menacing look to him that makes me never want to get on his bad side.

  "We can, and we are. I'll deal with Savage. Do you have anything else to get?"

  Shaking my head, he guides me toward the checkout. When we're done, he stuffs my bag into the storage compartment on the side of his bike and climbs on. This time I don't hesitate, situating myself behind him and holding on like my life depends on it. I know I shouldn't—and I don't know why I do—but I trust that if he says he'll handle Savage, he'll do it.

  The drive is short, but the heat is ridiculous, and I'm dying for a glass of ice water by the time we park at the restaurant. I don't think I've eaten anywhere but the club since I was a kid, and even then, I never got more than fast food or the local diner when my mom could afford to spare a couple of bucks to feed me.

  This place loo
ks fancy as hell, and I look down at my cropped tank top and cutoff shorts dubiously. "I don't think I'm really dressed for this."

  "You look gorgeous," Shadow promises and grabs my hand like he never wanted to let it go in the first place, lacing our fingers together again and giving it a squeeze. "Have you ever eaten Mexican food?"

  I bite my lip and think back. "Nope, at least not anything I haven't had to cook myself with recipes from the internet and serve to the club."

  When we step underneath the sign, I look up. "Comida?"

  "They have the best ceviche and carnitas I've ever had," Shadow says like I should know what the hell those two things are.

  "I'll take your word for it."

  The place is half empty since it's past the lunch hour, so it doesn't take us long to get a table. If I was worried about my outfit, it was for nothing because Shadow attracts all the attention, and I'm left standing beside him feeling invisible. Normally, that might bother me, but in this situation, I'm grateful for his hulking form and tattooed skin.

  There's already ice water waiting for me when we sit, and I grab for it right away. Instead of taking the chair across from me, Shadow sits right next to me, scooting the chair as close as he can without actually sitting on my lap. His hand falls to my bare thigh, and a shiver runs straight from his fingers to my clit.

  I clear my throat. "Listen, Shadow-"

  "Connor."

  "What?"

  "My name is Connor. I don't want you to call me Shadow."

  I swallow hard because what am I supposed to say to that? He has this way of making me feel like the only girl in the world, like he actually cares what I think that disarms me and makes me want to be reckless. "Okay, Connor," I say, testing the feel of his name on my tongue and finding that I like it more than I should.

  He shifts while he waits for me to talk and slings the hand that was just on my thigh over my shoulder, and twirls a piece of my hair around his finger. The other hand he reaches across his lap and onto mine, taking up that same spot on my thigh. What the hell was I about to say again?