Captive: A Bodyguard Romance (Hollywood Guardians Book 1)

by Heather Ashley

  But now I do.

  Now I know what it feels like when the cold waves lap at your toes and your feet sink into the wet sand so fast it feels like you might fall over. I know what a seashell looks like when it's fresh from the water and still has a tiny crab inside scurrying for a place to hide.

  This place is so full of life, and I open my eyes again, not wanting to miss a minute of it. I know I have to go back, but hopefully not for long. Connor stands up on his deck, looking down at me with pure adoration. It's the kind of look that makes my heart skip a beat, my stomach flutter, and my core clench. He told me again yesterday when we got here, between living room sex and bedroom sex, that he wants me to come live with him when we leave the Reign of Chaos behind.

  I'm still pinching myself every hour to make sure this isn't all some dream that I'm somehow trapped in and about to wake up to my real-life nightmare existence stuck forever with the ROC.

  "I have to take this," Connor calls down to me, holding up his phone before he turns and walks inside. I don't know a lot about his team's dynamics or how busy he is when he's not undercover, but I know he's put all that on hold so we could spend today together. If he's taking a call, it must be important.

  The beach is mostly empty, so I have the whole place to myself. I turn back to the stairs to grab the blanket I left sitting there when I came down here. I don't want to be inside today. The cool breeze and moisture in the air are so refreshing compared to what I'm used to; I want to soak it up for as long as possible.

  Spreading the blanket out further away from the water where the sand is dry, I plop down and stretch my legs out in front of me. There's something hard in my pocket, and I shift, not willing to take out the small set of brass knuckles my brother gave me that I've taken to carrying around. The day after the nightmare basement incident, he showed me how to throw a punch and gave me these, and told me to keep them on me at all times.

  Even if they're uncomfortable in my pocket sometimes, I feel safer with them on me, so I deal with it.

  I lay back and close my eyes, enjoying the moment and breathing deeply. The time that passes between when my eyes close and when a shadow falls over me could have been seconds or hours. It's hard to tell, and it doesn't really matter all that much. My lips curve up into a smile before my eyes slowly open, and I think I'm about to get a delicious eyeful of Connor in his swim shorts—hopefully shirtless.

  Unfortunately, that's not at all who's standing over me when my eyes snap open. It's some asshole in a leather cut and boots glaring down at me like I've personally offended him in some way, like I fucked his mom or something. That's how pissed off the guy looks.

  "Can I help you?" I ask, sitting up. Laying down like I am feels like a seriously vulnerable position to be in, so I casually start to stand up so we're more on the same level. He's not one of my brother's club buddies because his patches are all wrong, but I don't recognize the one he wears.

  "Yeah, you can come with me. Your boyfriend's causing headaches for us, and we can't have that," he says and reaches into the leather cut and flashes me his gun. An older couple is walking down the beach not far away, so he doesn't pull it out, but my heart jumps into my throat anyway. My hands are shaking as I slowly move them behind me and into my pockets, reaching for my phone in one and using the fingerprint sensor on the back to unlock it.

  With the other hand, I slide my fingers into the small set of brass knuckles, and then I look over his shoulder and gasp, widening my eyes like I've seen something. He doesn't hesitate to spin to check out the nonexistent threat, and when he does, I rip my phone out of my pocket and dial Connor.

  There's only a second before he notices I fucked with him, so I let my phone drop onto the blanket when he turns back, hoping Connor picks up before this guy drags me off to whatever hell he no doubt has waiting for me.

  But I won't be going in a cage ever again. Once was enough, and so when he scowls and then lunges for me, trying to grab me, I pull my fist back and swing right for his throat at the same time I lift my knee and slam it into his balls. He starts to collapse from my hit to his dick and my throat punch misses its target, smashing into his temple instead.

  He drops so fast he takes me down with him, his full weight dropping on top of me, and my lungs feel like they're being stabbed with a thousand knives as the wind is knocked out of me. I'm opening and closing my mouth, gasping like a fish, and cursing myself for dropping my phone on the blanket since I can't reach it now to call for help.

  Another shadow falls over me, and I want to scream, but of course I can't. This time, though, hazel eyes filled with a mixture of murder and concern stare down at me. "What the hell, Gigi? I left for five minutes max. It's like you're a goddamn magnet for danger."

  I glare up at him, completely relieved he came for me and just a little bit pissed off he's somehow implying this is my fault. I've lived almost my entire life on the Reign of Chaos property. It's not like I've had all sorts of space to make the enemies that've started popping up.

  His words may be laced with anger, but there's an undercurrent of relief, too, as he shoves the asshole that ambushed me to the side and then bends down to lift me back onto my feet. His eyes roam my entire body looking for injuries, but I'm okay. I wiggle my fingers still in the brass knuckles, and his eyebrows lift. "Where the fuck did you get those, and who do I owe my thanks?"

  "Benson gave them to me after the whole cage thing," I say and shrug like it's no big deal. Connor's not the only one who's going to have to give my brother thanks.

  "Fuck, he's going to be smug as shit about it." Connor pulls me into his side like he can't stand to have any distance between us, and with how shaken up I'm feeling, I'm happy he wants me close. My body hums as the leftover adrenaline starts to subside, and in its place, all I feel is shaky and spent.

  "What are we going to do with him?" I ask, pushing against the unconscious biker at our feet with my bare foot. I didn't notice before, but Connor's got his phone gripped in his left hand, and he brings it up now to send a text.

  "I called a couple of my guys in. They'll be here soon. We need to move him off the beach and into the house, and then I want to know every single word he said to you before you took him down." He gives me a wicked grin like he's proud of me but also picturing all the dirty things he wants to do at the same time.

  Connor kicks the guy over with his boot, lips pulling down into a frown when he sees the patch on the back of the guy's leather vest. He lifts his phone and snaps a picture I'm assuming to send to my brother. If Benson finds out that we didn't tell him right away, I have a feeling he'll get violent, and that's the last thing I want. I've had enough violence to last a lifetime, and yet I'm, like, ninety-five percent sure there's more coming.

  I lift my eyebrow when he looks at me. "Done? We're starting to attract attention." I jerk my chin toward the elderly couple walking back toward us, having turned around on their walk and apparently missed my kicking this random dude's ass. Based on the look Connor's giving me, I must look smug as hell, but it's not every day I get to feel like a badass.

  I might've grown up in a motorcycle club, but the last thing they wanted me to learn was how to fight. If I could fight, I might be able to escape. This moment is even more special because it's the first time I've really felt like I could take care of myself if I had to.

  We wait for the couple to pass us by. As they do, Connor slips his arm around my shoulder and pulls me against his side, so we close the gap between us and most of their view of our captive. He smiles and waves at them like we're just a normal couple out here enjoying the day. It's weirdly domestic of him. If he didn't have a savage edge to that smile or his skin wasn't etched with ink all over the place, I might even believe he could be tame like that.

  As things stand, I don't know if Connor really has it in him to slow down and stop taking chances or doing the work he loves, and I don't know if I'd want him to. That is a problem for another day, if it's a problem at all.

&nbs
p; When the couple has passed, Connor reluctantly steps away and kneels next to the guy, hauling him up and biker dude's arm over his shoulder. When he stands, the guy—Riff, according to the patch on the front of his cut—slumps over, and I duck under his other arm to help get him up the stairs. I don't even bother with my blanket; I can come back for it later.

  Going up the stairs is slow, and Riff's feet bang into every one, but there's not a lot we can do to avoid it. By the time we get to the top of the staircase and step onto the deck, I'm breathing hard, and sweat's beading on my forehead. Riff is heavy as hell, and I'm not exactly stacked with muscle like Connor. I side-eye him, and he raises his eyebrow and gives me this shit-eating grin like he knows what I'm thinking. Bastard.

  "You think you can help me get him to the basement, or should I wait for help?" he asks me, still with that smile on his stupid face. I might be slightly irrationally cranky but come on. My first sort of vacation in my entire life, and I almost get kidnapped.

  What. The. Actual. Fuck.

  We move awkwardly through the patio doors, and when we're near the couch, I shrug out from under the guy and fold my arms across my chest. "I'm done. All I wanted was one peaceful day at the beach. One." I'm seething, and my body is starting to tremble for the second time today but for a very different reason. My whole body is tense, and I'm this close to storming off down the beach and never coming back. I'll dig the stupid fucking tracker out myself to be free of all this bullshit.

  Except Connor drops the guy onto the couch like he weighs nothing and circles me in his arms, smoothing my hair away from my face and rubbing my back in soothing circles. When I look up into his hazel eyes, my body deflates. There's no way I could run and leave him behind. I'm too attached now.

  Giving in, I let my forehead fall to his chest and wrap my arms around his waist, curling my fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt. I'm so in my own head I don't hear the guy on the couch stirring, but Connor does. He gently pries me off and darts toward the kitchen, coming back with zip ties before Riff fully regains consciousness. I don't even question why he has zip ties in his kitchen. Between how calm he is about the whole attempted kidnapping on his private beach thing and his stash of zip ties in the kitchen, I get the impression this isn't the first time he's done this type of thing.

  Does it make me a bit psychotic that my thighs clench together and my nipples tighten while I watch him manhandle the prisoner?

  Eh, even if it does, I don't really care. My man is sexy as hell.

  That's right, I'm owning it.

  When Connor has Riff fully restrained, he stands up, and the heat in his gaze when it collides with mine has me stepping toward him before I even make the decision to do it. I'm ready to climb him like a tree, and I'd even let the guy on the couch watch if it meant we didn't have to waste time finding somewhere private. All rational thought flies out of my head as his hands reach for me and my lips find his.

  They've barely touched when his front door swings open. I'm already pouting as I pull back, knowing the new arrivals mean we're pressing pause on the fun that was about to happen. They're both tall and big like Connor, though the one with light brown curls shaved short on the side and longer on top and no tattoos at all is bulkier than either Connor or the darker-haired one just behind him.

  "Gigi, this is Indy," he points to the one with the curls, "and Asher. They're both members of my team, and the reason you didn't have to haul Riff to the basement." I lift my hand and give them a little wave, but I'm plenty awkward about it.

  "Hi," I say, not really sure what else I need to communicate. I have an idea of what's about to go down in the basement. The two of them look like they could be going to the grocery store or the gym or some other mundane everyday task. I don't know whether to be scared or impressed.

  "Guys, this is my girlfriend, Gigi. Keep your hands and eyes to yourself, and we won't have a problem." That last part comes out with an underlying threat of violence, and I shiver in appreciation. I'm starting to think some part of me might've been damaged from spending my whole life around criminals and thugs, but at this point, it's best not to overthink it.

  The darker-haired one—Asher—chuckles and doesn't seem at all offended by his boss's intimidation as he smiles at me, and a damn dimple pops out. A dimple.

  It's a good thing I'm all in on this thing with Connor because Asher? He could get me in serious trouble. Connor narrows his eyes at me, and I smile sweetly back. "Get him downstairs and find out who exactly we're dealing with and why he tried to take Gigi," he orders in a clipped tone. Aw, is my boyfriend jealous?

  I've gotta admit, I really like it when he gets all possessive over me. It makes me feel special and wanted, and aren't those some of the best feelings? I never knew what that was like until Connor, and I hope what we have lasts because I'm starting to get addicted to him and the way he makes me feel.

  Our eyes are locked together as the two men haul a thrashing Riff up off the couch and wrestle him down the stairs. Connor doesn't break eye contact until they're all out of the room, and I can no longer hear Riff's pleas for help. It's almost like he wanted to keep my attention only for himself until there was no one in the room to attempt to steal it. I smirk at him, and he lifts his eyebrow in response.

  Apparently, we're the kind of couple who can communicate without words now, so we're totally killing this whole relationship thing.

  "You hungry?" he asks like there's not a guy about to be tortured in his basement.

  I shrug. "Yeah, I guess I could eat." I guess it's not a big deal to me, either, but c'mon. The guy did try to kidnap me, and I bet if he succeeded, I'd be in a fucking cage right now. No, fuck that guy. He deserves whatever he gets from Indy and Asher.

  As Connor starts pulling stuff out of the fridge to make sandwiches, I jump up and sit on the counter with my feet dangling. "So, I can't help but notice that this," I sweep my hand in the direction of the basement stairs, "seems to not be a big deal to you. From everything you've told me, and from what I've seen you do, it's obvious you like helping people. So, why do this? Why go all vigilante instead of becoming a cop?"

  It's something I've been wondering about for a couple of weeks. It's clear he's made it his mission to stop the bad guys, but he could just as easily have done that as a cop or in the FBI or something.

  "You know I was in the military?" he asks, and I nod. He goes back to making our sandwiches as he answers. "When I got out, my friend Ronin—you'll meet him at some point since he's on my team now, too—went the cop route. I'd just gotten out, and I was tired of my life being so fucking rigid. Some guys thrive on that shit, but it was like a fucking leash. I watched Ronin chain himself back up and all the criminals that slipped through his fingers because there was only so much he could do. At first, I didn't set out to do what I'm doing with the ROC. It actually started as a simple security job for the rich and famous. A friend of mine needed someone reliable and asked if I wanted the job. It was good money, but eventually, it got boring."

  He balances our sandwiches on a single plate in one hand and holds his other out for me. I take it and hop down off the counter, letting him pull me along to the table, where he slides out a chair for me. I sit, and he pulls out the one next to me, turning it so we're facing each other before he sits and puts the plate down.

  He lifts a sandwich and hands it over so I can eat while he talks. I groan when I take the first bite, and his eyes darken, but he keeps talking. "I decided I wanted to be in control, so I started my own business. That same friend who gave me my first guarding job got a client request that he couldn't fulfill, so he passed it on to me, and the frontman of Shadow Phoenix became my first client." He stops to take a bite of his sandwich, looking thoughtful.

  I'm nearly done with mine, and just because I want to, I use my free hand to weave our fingers together. There's something so magical about being able to touch Connor whenever and however I want that I like to take advantage whenever I can. You'd think I was starved f
or affection or something.

  "Over the years, we took on the whole band, and I grew my team. More and more shit went down the bigger they got and the more they expanded their families. We've been through hell and watching Ronin work his ass off to get pieces of shit, like some of the guys in your brother's club, off the streets just to have them get out on a technicality or because they rigged the system pissed me off. I don't want to be limited on the tactics I can use to set shit straight. Besides," he grins at me, and it's dark and deadly, not at all like the soft ones he saves just for me. "I like the violence too much."

  And that right there is the complete truth—I can see it in his eyes. "So, you want to help the people who trust you to keep them safe from whatever comes your way without having to pull the cops in unless you have to?" I summarize, and he nods, tucking my hair behind my ear.

  "Basically. I still use the cops, just not until I have the case locked up airtight. Sometimes things get out of hand and end up wrapping up before we get to that point, though," he explains, and I get the feeling we're talking about how he's killed people, but I don't ask. I don't think I want to know.

  "It's one of the best things about having Ronin on my team. He knows the type of shit the cops and the courts use to lock people up and throw away the key. We always hope nothing happens to our clients, but if someone comes after them, I'm the guy who makes sure they regret it."

  He lifts my hand and kisses the back, and I'm pretty sure that's his signal that this discussion has come to an end. Connor was more forthcoming than I expected, and it's refreshing that he's willing to be so open with me about his past and his life.

  I lean forward and kiss him sweetly, not trying to deepen it. This kiss is all about showing him that I see him, and I like him for exactly who he is. His darkness doesn't scare me away; it pulls me closer. "Let me take you somewhere," he says suddenly, leaving our lunch mess on the table and pulling me up to standing.