I'm about to knock on Gigi's door when my phone buzzes. Fuck, it's an alert Bomber's bike is on the move. The one good thing about tailing him all over the goddamn place last night was I managed to plant a GPS tracker on his bike while he was in another one of those sketchy as fuck massage parlors he likes so much.
Shit. As much as I hate leaving things with Gigi up in the air, I have to follow him. This could be the break I've been waiting for, and I'm sure she'll still be pissed off at me when I get back. The only thing that gives me pause is that if she feels at all for me what I feel for her, she might be hurting, and I don't want to leave her in pain.
I only have seconds to decide, and with a curse, I turn and hurry down the hall, racing toward my bike before he can get too far off the property that I won't be able to follow him. Savage pulled me aside when I got home last night and told me they have their church meeting or whatever tonight, so if I can catch Bomber doing something shady, I can get that info to Savage before it starts.
What he'll do with it, I have no idea. But my patience for this project is starting to wear thin. I want to wrap it up and get Gigi the hell out of here and back to my normal life where I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not, and the woman I'm in love with isn't doubting how much she means to me.
An uneasiness washes over me as I climb on my bike and start it up. I feel unsettled knowing things between Gigi and I aren't in a good place right now. Who knows what the fuck I'm riding into following Bomber out into the desert? If, for some reason, I don't come back, she'll always think I was the asshole who fucked around behind her back just like the ones before me.
A new determination settles over me as I ride out onto the highway. It's a right turn to go into the city, but I see Bomber's gone to the left, so I go in that direction. My bike purrs underneath me, the steady hum calming my nerves, and I relax into my role. I'm not about to let these corrupt assholes get one over on me. My attention is laser-focused on the bike in front of me.
Bomber is out so far ahead I can barely see him, which is perfect. If he gets out of sight, I can pull over and check his location on my phone, but I don't want to give him so much distance that I miss whatever it is he's about to do.
After riding for so long my ass starts to go numb, Bomber pulls off into the long driveway of what looks like an old rundown house. It's tiny, barely more than a shed. I want to pull off and check it out, take some pictures to have Sebastian check into, but there's nowhere to hide that he won't see me.
The house is right off the highway—not that many people come out this way—and there's nothing else around for miles. I get a break when Bomber rides around back as I pass by. The last thing I need is for him to see that it's me following him out here.
I keep riding for a while before I turn around. I have no idea what the hell he's up to in there or if he's meeting anyone, so I don't know how long I should wait before driving by again, but when I turn around, I move my phone into a place where I can easily reach it as I pass.
When I ride by the house this time, I lift my phone and take as many pictures as I can manage without crashing my bike, and then haul ass back to the clubhouse. I want to get back before Bomber does so he doesn't suspect I saw him, and I need to send everything to Sebastian so I can call him and explain what I need.
Once I have a better idea of what I'm dealing with, I'll get Julian and Sebastian to set up some kind of surveillance before I go out and check it out again. All I want to do is make a quick call and then get back to my room, so I can wash off the road dust and then go find Gigi.
The call with Sebastian goes smoothly. He gets the pictures I send, and thank fuck they're not so blurry that he can't make out a house number on the front and enough details to match up whatever he finds in tax records.
By the time we have a plan hammered out, I feel confident the house is the key to whatever the hell the old-timers are up to. That place screams up to something, so I can't help but feel like putting my issues with Gigi on ice for a couple of hours was the right call.
If I hadn't, I might not have got another chance to follow Bomber, or any of the other three, out to that shack. On a normal day, I'd be relieved at finding a lead, at being one step closer to this whole thing coming to an end, but not today. Instead, my body is tense, my muscles bunched up, and my stomach twisted up over Gigi.
It's killing me that she's somewhere on this property, so close to me yet so distant because of what those four evil bitches said to her last night while I wasn't even here to defend myself. I'm practically running back to my room to rinse off and then grab the camera I found so I can show it to her as proof I didn't touch a single one of those chicks.
I can't even wrap my mind around why Gigi would think I'd want to when I have her in my life. She's so gorgeous, sometimes it's hard to breathe when I look at her, and the way her body feels pressed up against mine is indescribable. It's not just her body, though. She challenges me. She's snarky and sarcastic, witty and hopeful, and she has dreams bigger than anyone else I know.
Gigi makes me want to be better, to rise up out of the darkness I sometimes find myself lost in and put more good out into the world.
I realize there's a problem as soon as I get to the door to my room. It's not closed all the way, and I reach for the gun tucked into my jeans before I push the door open. When I see what's waiting for me, my finger curls around the trigger for a second before I take a deep breath and put my gun back where it was.
"Get the fuck out," I snap, holding the door open wide. "And I want to know how the fuck you keep getting in here."
The bleach blonde blinks up at me with wide blue eyes that would look innocent except for the hardness in them she can't seem to hide. That, and she's looking at me like she wants to suck my soul from my body through my dick. I fight off the urge to cover my junk with my hand to keep her away.
She's made herself comfortable, spread out across my bed. If I remember right, her name's Crystal, but I've never really tried to commit it to memory because I just don't care enough to do it. She's wearing a scrap of lingerie that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and she's not moving to get off my bed.
"I said get the fuck out of my room." I step into the room because I may have to force her out, and the door closes behind me. She watches it close with a look of triumph on her face like she's just won something, and my hands curl into fists. I'm quickly losing the hold I have on my temper. Crystal and her little minions have already fucked things up enough for me with Gigi.
The last thing I want right now is to be dealing with her unwanted ass in my bed.
"You don't really mean that, do you, baby?" she purrs, and my heart crashes against my ribs. I'm so angry, I'm shaking with the effort to hold myself back. No matter how much of a traitorous bitch she is, I won't hurt a woman. My fingers are itching to grab the knife in my pocket and make her bleed, and I don't know how long I'll be able to hold that part of myself back.
"I sure as fuck do. Get. Out."
She gets up on all fours and starts to crawl toward me, so I back away. There's no chance I'm letting her get her claws in me. I'm already in enough trouble with Gigi over these girls and the lies they spun, so I'm not about to add being in touching proximity to the shit she's pissed off at me about.
"I promise you I'm better than Gigi could ever hope to be. Give me one chance, and you won't even remember why you wanted her in the first place." She's still moving toward me, and her voice has gone all low and sultry, but it doesn't come off as sexy; it makes her sound like she's trying too hard.
The full force of her perfume hits me like a fucking semi-truck, and I choke against the overly floral scent. My eyes start to water, and she smiles up at me in this flirty way that seems to mean she thinks I'm up for whatever she's offering. It's like she's not hearing any of the words coming out of my mouth, and I don't know how to get her to listen.
I think I might have to touch her to get her out of here, and when I make the d
ecision to finally do it, I step forward and wrap my hand around her bare upper arm. She moans loudly like I just licked her clit instead of grabbed her to kick her the fuck out of my room, and the sound hasn't even finished leaving her lips when there's a knock on the door.
Cursing, I drop her arm like it burned me because I have a feeling I know exactly who I'm about to find on the other side of the door, and with everything in me, I don't want to open it. If Gigi's standing out there like I think she is—and the smug smile on Crystal's face is a fucking neon sign screaming at me that I'm right—I know she's going to get the wrong impression of what's happening here.
The knock comes again and Gigi's muffled, "I know you're in there, Shadow. Just open the door."
I throw one last death glare at Crystal that promises I'm going to make her pay in pain for every ounce of hurt she's inflicting on the woman I love before I swing the door open. Gigi's red-rimmed eyes are already welling with tears, but she blinks them away, and her glare slides past me over my shoulder to the bitch who's now lounging back on my bed.
It's not a pretty picture we're painting right here. The total devastation that crosses Gigi's face before she locks it away has me reaching for her before I can think about whether or not she might want me to touch her. All I care about is soothing the hurt, taking it away, fixing it, making it better.
She flinches away from me. "Don't touch me," she bites out before stepping back away from me, and my heart cracks. She's misunderstanding everything, and I had an explanation for what the girls lied about last night, but after they convinced her I was fucking around behind her back, what was I going to say to explain this?
I have no hard evidence that Crystal broke in and planted herself in my bed without my knowledge or permission. It's only my word against hers. "Sorry for interrupting," Gigi snaps before stepping forward and shoving something against my chest. I catch it, my skin colliding with hers for a fraction of a second before she pulls away.
It's enough to feel the intense spark of energy under my skin that happens anytime Gigi touches me, and my heart cracks a little more. How the fuck am I going to fix this?
"I came to give you that. I found it last night while you were out, and I thought you might want to know." She spins on her heel, her strawberry blonde hair fanning out as she hurries off down the hall like she can't get away from me fast enough.
I'm so fucking sad for her, and I hate that I'm the one she's crying over.
Crystal runs her finger down my arm as she saunters past me out of the room. "The mood is ruined. Maybe next time, baby," she says as she passes by. The wink she gives me makes me think this whole thing was just a way to fuck with me and hurt Gigi more. By now, the Cunt Club—as Gigi calls them—have to know I have less than zero interest in them.
They've stalked me, followed me around, spied on me, and I've never shown anything that could be mistaken for interest in a single one of them. They're the same kind of girls LA has to offer—the ones who are hungry for anyone who can lift them out of whatever shithole they were raised in and make them feel more important than they really are. They don't care who they hurt or who they use to get there. Years and years in the city have taught me how to spot them a mile away, and I stay way the fuck away.
This game is one I'm not new to. I've been played, but I'm older and wiser now. I won't fall for their bullshit, but maybe if they think there's a chance I will, they'll be a good source of intel into what the older guys in the club are up to.
It might not be smart considering how Gigi feels about them, but if I decide to go that way, it'll be after a long discussion with her about how she feels about it and after she feels more secure in our relationship. If Gigi doesn't think we're in a relationship, she's about to get the shock of her life because she's mine and has been since the first time I saw her, even if she's not willing to admit she feels the same way.
You don't wake up next to someone every morning for weeks and think it means nothing. I'm just as much hers as she is mine, and it's time to make her admit it.
Now that Crystal's gone, I decide I'm done waiting around. I don't know how I'm going to fix what I broke with Gigi, but I'm sure as fuck going to try. I look down at what she handed me, and my brow furrows. Drugs? Savage told me the club was out of the drug business, so what the fuck is this? And more importantly, where did Gigi find it?
I tuck it in my pocket because I sure as hell don't trust the lock on my door, and grab the tiny camera I stashed in my drawer this morning. I don't even bother locking the door as I rush off in the direction Gigi took off in a few minutes ago.
I've wasted way too much time waiting for the perfect moment or situation to tell her how I feel, and it's fucked everything up. I'm done waiting. I'm going to find her and do whatever I have to do to convince her she's the only girl I've ever really wanted, and I'll do anything to keep her by my side.
I'm so numb I almost don't even feel the wetness on my face as I march blindly through the desert. I've never been so humiliated and crushed in my entire life. I guess now I know I didn't do a good enough job of keeping Connor out of my heart because seeing him in his room with Crystal, her nearly-naked body spread out across his bed like I'd been so many times before, made me want to curl up in a ball and give up on life.
I had to lock my emotions up in a box in my mind to survive the rest of the conversation with him, and once that was over, I had to get out. So, here I am, my whole body feeling detached from my mind with no idea where I'm going or what I'm going to do next. I can't exactly run away from this place because Benson will find me and drag me back.
But I can't face seeing Connor again either. My heart feels like it's shattered into a million pieces, like a chandelier that's been cut down and scattered on the floor below. I want to throw up, and I stumble over a rock, dry heaving into the hot dirt under my feet, but nothing comes out because I haven't been able to eat since the dinner I had out here with him.
I wipe my mouth and straighten up, squinting into the harsh midday sun to try and figure out where the hell I'm going. I hear footsteps rushing up behind me, and I tense before taking off in a sprint. I can't see Connor right now; I can't.
If it's someone else, whatever they want won't be good—unless it's my brother or one of his guys—so no matter what, I don't want to be caught.
Fuck, I hate running.
Running after your heart's been broken, you haven't eaten in almost twenty-four hours, and you haven't slept in what feels like days is the equivalent to rolling around on broken glass and then dipping yourself in a big tub of lemon juice.
At least, that's how it feels to me.
A calloused hand I know almost as well as my own grabs my arm and spins me around, making my skin tingle under his touch, but I shut that shit down. "Gigi, please fucking stop. Just stop." Connor's breathing hard, and his hazel eyes are frantic. I've never seen him like this before, and I don't know what to make of it. I've heard all the excuses before, and I don't really want to listen to them pour out of his mouth right now. Not while I'm still raw.
I don't even glare at him. My emotions are tangled, and none of them are good. All I can do is stare up at him with a blank expression on my face like I'm not dying on the inside. I'm in full-on protect what's left of my heart mode right now, and it'll take something massive for him to break through it.
He lets go of my arm slowly, sticking close like he thinks I'm going to run. Smart man. I totally would if I thought I could get away. He digs in his pocket and holds something out to me. I don't want to stop looking at his eyes to see what it is he's showing me. There's something there behind them that's calling to me, that's in just as much pain as I am. I don't know what to do with it, so I finally tear my gaze away and drop it down to his hand.
My forehead wrinkles as I look at what he's holding. "What's that?" I reach out and pluck the tiny device out of his hand. It looks like a piece of machinery with a couple of small wires hanging out of it and a small circle on one end,
but I have no idea what I'm even looking at.
"A camera," he says in a hard voice that makes my eyes shoot back up to his face.
"Where'd it come from?"
"I found it in my room this morning after my morning chat with Lola. Turns out the Cunt Club has been doing more than following me around. That right there," he gestures at the little device in my palm, "is how they knew about my piercing."
I blow out a breath and feel hope spark in my chest. I'm not sure if I should let it take root, though, because it doesn't explain everything. "And this just now? That didn't look like spying to me."
"That was one of those fucking cunts breaking into my room to throw herself at me." His lip curls in disgust, and he shakes himself out with a shudder before stepping closer to me and reaching out to take one of my hands. He does it slowly like he thinks I might pull away, but I don't. I really, really want to believe what he's saying is true.
"I don't know if it was because she doesn't know the meaning of the word no, or if she did it to fuck with what we have, but the four of them hurt you, and that's something I'm not going to let go of." There's a promise of violence in his words that makes me shiver in the best way. His eyes have darkened, and I can see the shadows in their depths, the ones he keeps hidden most of the time.
"And what do we have?" I whisper. I'm afraid of the answer, and for a second think maybe if he doesn't hear the question, the possibility still exists that he wants to be with me. If he says nothing, I know now that I'll never be the same, which just sucks for me. I hate being vulnerable and showing weakness, and Connor's the biggest one I've ever had.
"You don't feel it?" he asks me, moving closer so his warm breath brushes over my damp cheeks, drying my tears. "I'm the guy you fuck, not the one you date—at least I was until you. Being someone's boyfriend was my idea of torture. Then here you come out of fucking nowhere and make me question every damn thing about what I thought I wanted."
Captive: A Bodyguard Romance (Hollywood Guardians Book 1) Page 19