There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Then, Megan said, ‘You don’t have to shout.’
Sighing, Bethany sank down onto the bed. She hoped that Dylan was enjoying the drama, standing outside listening in. Someone should be having some fun with this ridiculous situation.
‘They’re saying you bailed him out of jail, Meg. Well, actually, they’re saying I did. But since I know I didn’t do it, I figure they must actually mean you. And obviously that’s crazy, because why would you do that? I mean, he hurt you. So, just tell me they’re wrong. Please.’
No answer. Bethany’s heart sank down into her empty stomach. ‘Tell me what happened,’ she said, slumping down lower onto the bed.
‘He didn’t mean to do it.’ Meg’s tone was earnest, shining with the belief of a true convert. ‘He loves me too much, Bethany, and you know how he is – he’s a passionate man. I shouldn’t have—’
‘No.’ There was no way Bethany was going to let her sister blame herself for Jake’s actions. ‘This is not your fault. He hit you. There are no circumstances under which this is your fault.’
On the other end of the phone, Megan sighed. ‘I know that, Beth. I do. But… he really does love me. It’s not like when he was with you. I’m the real thing for him.’
Bethany ignored the sting that still came from knowing that her first love had apparently always loved her sister more. She didn’t love him, after all – and given this latest turn of events, she was so far better off without him. But it had always been Beth and Jake, all through high school, right up to the moment Bethany got her first break. Her first tiny part in her some stupid TV show and when she came home again from filming, she’d lost her high school sweetheart to her own sister.
Sometimes, she thought her life was more of a soap opera than any TV show or film she’d starred in over the last few years.
‘Has he ever done anything like this before?’ Bethany asked. He hadn’t with her, but Jake had changed. Ten years of never quite getting where he wanted to be had an effect on a man.
‘Never,’ Megan said, firmly enough that she believed her. ‘But… he was drunk, again. We were at some bar, and he was like, falling down drunk. I told him it was time to leave, and he swung round and fell off his bar stool. His buddies laughed at him and I grabbed his arm and…’
‘And he punched you.’ Bethany kept her voice as unemotional as she could. She needed the facts, first. Then she could break down.
‘I’m not sure he even knew it was me.’ The sadness in her sister’s voice made Bethany’s heart ache. ‘Anyway, someone else pulled him off, and he swung at them and before I knew it the police were being called and I was giving a statement and Jake was in the cells for the night.’
God, what a mess. Bethany rubbed a hand across her forehead, trying to release some of the tension there.
‘You bailed him out this morning?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ Megan said. ‘I couldn’t just… leave him there.’
I would have. ‘How did you afford it?’ The silence on the other end was answer enough. ‘Meg, no. That money was for you. For you to do that massage course you wanted.’ To give her a chance to find a career, a new life. To give her options, if she needed them. Which clearly, after this week, she did.
‘The bail wasn’t much,’ Megan argued. ‘Besides, it’s not like he’s going to skip out. I’ll get it back.’
‘That’s not the point—’ Bethany started, but her sister interrupted her.
‘Look, it was my choice. He’s my husband. Remember?’
‘Of course I remember.’ Even though she hadn’t been at the wedding. She’d been filming abroad, which was Megan’s excuse for not inviting her.
Bethany rested her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. ‘Okay. So, what do I tell the press when they ask?’
‘Why would they ask?’ Megan snapped the question. ‘I mean, I know they’re all crazy for Bethany Lord, but don’t try and pretend any of them care about your ordinary little sister.’
How could she explain it, without making Megan angrier? ‘They care because you’re my sister. And because they think I paid to bail him out – which in a way, I did.’
‘So?’
‘So they’ll start to look into it. Into you, and him. And me.’
There was a pause on the other end of the line while Megan processed what she was saying, and Bethany prayed she’d just take the hint and let it go. Just this once.
But, no.
‘You mean, they’ll figure out that you and Jake used to be together. That their perfect innocent starlet, who’s never been so much as photographed falling out of her dress or kissing someone she shouldn’t, used to date her brother in law. The one who’s just been arrested for assault.’
The relish in Megan’s voice made Bethany nervous. Her sister had always been a little envious of her career, and Bethany got that. But she wouldn’t actually go so far as to give the press the story they’d been waiting for, ever since Bethany Lord burst onto the Hollywood stage, would she?
‘And they’d surely start to wonder why you’d bail him out now, right?’
Bethany could see the headlines now. The accusations, the innuendo, the implied affair, betrayal, everything. Just what she needed, the week of the press junket for her biggest film yet.
‘They would. But Meg, that’s not what I’m worried about.’
Megan laughed. ‘Of course it is! When did you care about anything except your career, and your reputation?’
‘I care about you!’ Bethany yelled, then winced when she remembered Dylan listening outside. Except he had less incentive to spill the beans to the press than her own sister, right now. His job would be on the line. All Megan would lose would be a fraught sisterly relationship. ‘Look, Meg, I’m scared for you. I know you don’t think he meant to hurt you but… what if he did? If Jake’s drinking… you remember what his dad was like. I don’t want to see history repeating itself. I want you to promise me you’ll get out. I can help you—’
‘I don’t need your help to run my marriage.’ Megan’s voice turned cold. ‘I know how to deal with Jake, far better than you ever did. So you just get back to your endless party life, yeah? Leave the little people to take care of themselves.’
The phone went dead in her hand, and Bethany let it tumble out of her fingers onto the bedspread. What now? Had she just made things a thousand times worse? Neil was going to kill her if her sister’s issues derailed his whole premiere and press junket.
With a deep breath, Bethany got up and started to pace. It was time to come up with a plan.
Chapter Three
Dylan could hear her stomping across the length of her bedroom, back and forth, back and forth. It wasn’t an enormous room, for all the luxury – maybe a third of the size of the main suite sitting room. She could only be managing maybe ten steps before she had to turn round and head back again.
Through the doorway, he watched her reach the wall, pivot and start over. Clenching his jaw, he silently counted the steps, one to ten, and closed his eyes as she turned again.
He was a patient man. A forbearing man. He’d been trained to withstand torture without cracking, many years before.
But this? This was going to drive him insane.
‘You know you’d have more space to pace out here.’ The words came out of his mouth almost unbidden, and he mentally cursed himself when her footsteps stalled. Then, four quicker steps and she appeared in the doorway, scowling at him. The expression looked wrong on her angelic face, her famous dark chocolate eyes looking out from under her perfect blonde waves.
‘I thought the deal was that I’d hardly even notice you were here?’
‘I live to serve. I can be silent as the grave, if you like. Won’t change the fact you’ll be more comfortable pacing away your troubles out here.’ Dylan shrugged. ‘Just trying to be helpful.’
Maybe it was his obvious lack of interest in the reasons behind her pacing, or maybe
she’d realised that pacing in circles wasn’t getting her anywhere fast. Either way, Bethany slipped through the doorway and perched on the low back of the chaise longue, staring at him.
Oh God, he’d done it now. She was going to want to talk. Want to get his opinions, his thoughts on whatever her female dilemmas were. Dylan had been here with clients before, and it never ended well.
‘You were listening, weren’t you?’ Bethany tilted her head slightly to the side as she watched him, and Dylan fought the urge to fidget under her direct gaze. That, at least, had been trained out of him. ‘When I was talking to my sister.’
‘Your private conversations are not my concern, unless they affect my ability to protect you.’ A line directly from the company handbook, but true nonetheless. He didn’t care about her family dramas. He cared about her being safe. It was as simple and as straightforward as that.
‘But you were listening,’ Bethany pressed.
That, of course, was the dilemma. How could he be sure that the conversation wouldn’t impact her safety, unless he listened? In his experience, clients never understood that line between listening and caring.
‘Only in so far as it concerned your safety,’ he answered, as flat and dry as possible.
‘And did it? In your professional opinion?’
Dylan held back a sigh. Clearly this one wasn’t going to give up.
With a quick glance behind him out through the gap in the blinds, just to be sure no enterprising journo had climbed a drainpipe or anything equally annoying, Dylan stepped forward, abandoning his lookout post. Sometimes, getting the client on side was more important than strict professionalism. And if he was right about Bethany Lord being a bolter, this might be his only chance to make his evening less dramatic than it could be.
‘Look. It seems to me that your sister has issues. Whether they affect you or not is entirely up to you.’ He sat in the armchair opposite her, and she slid down from the arm of the chaise longue onto the seat. She didn’t look any more comfortable, though.
‘Not if she goes to the press. Tells the whole story.’ The misery in those famous eyes ran deep and, against all of his better judgement, Dylan found himself wishing he could do something about that.
‘Is she likely to?’ he asked. ‘Remember, I only heard one side of the conversation. I don’t even know what the whole story is.’ A reminder that she could stop now, if she wanted, and they could go back to just being bodyguard and client, without any confidences or personal information exchanged. The way it should be.
Was he reminding her or himself? Dylan wasn’t sure.
‘Megan has always been… envious, I suppose.’ Dylan would have gone with bitter and jealous, but he supposed that worked. ‘And she’s pissed at me right now. Really pissed.’
He shouldn’t ask. He didn’t want to ask. And yet… ‘Why?’
‘Because she married my ex-boyfriend thinking it would be some big victory, only it turns out being with Jake isn’t as amazing as she always thought it would be.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yeah.’
‘So, what’s the story everyone wants today, then? What’s that crowd doing down there, waiting for you to show your pretty face?’ Not that he cared, but she was his client. And it was, even he could admit, a very pretty face.
She tilted her head to look at him. ‘You already know, don’t you?’
‘Some,’ Dylan admitted, wishing this one wasn’t quite so sharp. The clever ones were always harder to handle.
‘I thought so,’ she said with a nod. ‘They wouldn’t send you out here to protect me without all the relevant information.’
‘All I was told was that your brother in law had been arrested for assault, possibly of your sister, and there were rumours you had paid the bail.’
‘I didn’t,’ Bethany said quickly, but he already knew that too. ‘She did. She just… used money that I’d given her very recently. So I guess the timing might look a little suspicious.’
‘Everything looks suspicious to those vultures,’ Dylan said, motioning at the window.
‘I know.’ Bethany sighed. ‘Look, do you think there’s any way you might be able to get rid of them? Go down and look menacing or something? Isn’t that your job?’
She knew it wasn’t. So what was she playing at? Dylan watched, saw the moment her eyes darted towards the door again, and knew.
‘My one and only job, as you know full well, is to keep you safe. And in order for me to do that, I need to be right beside you, at all times.’ Her gaze slid to the door once more, and he knew it was time to call her on it. ‘You’re thinking about getting away from me – oh, I’m sure you’re just thinking about ten minutes of privacy,’ he said, when she tried to interrupt. ‘But the thing is – don’t. I take my job very seriously. If I can’t see you, even for a moment, I’ll be calling for back up and storming in guns blazing. So I’d drop any ideas you have about trying to give me the slip. Trust me, things will go easier for both of us if you just take me with you from the start.’
She met his gaze for a long moment, but he could outstare terrorists and heads of state. It wasn’t long before she glanced away again.
‘We understand each other?’ he asked, needing to be sure.
She nodded. ‘Of course. You have a job to do.’
‘Damn right.’ And it wasn’t the kind of job people forgave you easily if you screwed it up. Dylan might not have much of value in his life, not compared to the rich and famous he minded, but at least he had his professional pride. He’d be damned if the next bright young thing was going to take that from him.
Something hit the window glass with a crack, not hard enough to break it, but the sound echoed in his brain with enough force to send his muscle memory into action. Dylan leaped forward, pressing Bethany against the chaise longue, his whole body covering hers, tense and waiting for what happened next.
Which was, mostly, nothing.
Then, after a moment, another crack. Dylan’s muscles stayed taut. Gunfire? No, that would shatter the glass. In fact, it sounded like—
‘Um, I think someone is throwing stones at the window?’ Bethany said from under him. ‘Also, you’re kind of heavy.’
At her words, the feel of her body against his seeped into his consciousness – the softness, the warmth, the curves… Dylan dragged himself back to the problem at hand, muttering ‘Sorry,’ as he moved his weight off her.
‘That’s okay. I mean, good instincts, right?’ she sounded a little nervy, but Dylan supposed that was inevitable.
‘Got to have them, in this job,’ he replied, reaching the window.
Another crack of stone on glass hit just as he pulled the blind aside, disappointing the photographer sitting in the tree opposite. He’d been hoping, no doubt, to get a shot of Bethany Lord opening her window to see what was going on out there. Instead, he got Dylan glaring at him. Not quite the photo of the century.
He let the blind fall again, and turned back into the room to reassure the client. ‘I wouldn’t worry. They’ll try anything – but they’ll only try it once while…’ he blinked, and wondered how he’d missed the quiet click of the hotel room door opening. ‘I’m here,’ he finished telling the empty room.
And then, he ran. Damn it, I knew she was a bolter.
***
She only had seconds before Dylan would follow her, but Bethany had always been good at thinking on her feet. And the moment he’d turned his back, the burning need to be alone had flared up so bright that she’d just run without even thinking first about where she’d go.
The suite she’d been allocated was close to the elevators and the service stairwell, which worked to her advantage, too. But she’d probably never have been able to complete her escape without the cleaning supplies closet next to the stairs.
Shoving her way through the double doors to the stairwell, leaving the ornately decorated doors still swinging, she ducked into the closet even as she heard Dylan’s footsteps catch up with her.
He swore, loudly, right outside her hiding place, and Bethany held her breath until she heard his heavy footfalls continuing down the basic stairs, intended for the staff. Then, when she was absolutely sure she was safe, she opened the door a crack.
The stairwell was empty.
Dashing out, she ran for the lifts, sending up a thankful prayer as one opened, empty, right in front of her. She pressed the button for the basement and, as the doors closed, sank down to the floor, her heart racing.
She was alone at last, and finally she might be able to think straight enough to plan a way out of this mess.
Chapter Four
Bethany knew without really thinking about it exactly where she was headed, the moment she got in the lift and saw the hotel floor plan on the wall. Back home, growing up, there was only one place she’d escape to when she needed to think – the water. The Chatsfield, luxurious though it was, didn’t have an ocean, which was a shame. The calming lapping of the waves was just what she needed right now. Still, it did have the next best thing: the most amazing swimming pool Bethany had ever seen.
Even better, it was closed. Jake had taught her to pick a lock back in junior high, so getting in was easy. But the ‘pool reopens at 5am’ sign on the door should be enough to keep everyone else out. Which, as Dylan hadn’t exactly given her time to grab her swimsuit, was probably just as well.
Bethany pulled the door closed behind her and moved quickly through the dressing rooms in her already bare feet. In moments, she’d reached her destination and drew in a chlorine-filled breath. The whole pool area was mostly in darkness, except for twinkling star-like spotlights in the ceiling. It was the perfect place to relax and sort out her head.
Smiling to herself, Bethany grabbed a hotel towel from the hook by the door and padded over to one of the wooden loungers dotted around the pool. Spreading her towel across it, she slipped her dress over her head and dropped it on the lounger. Even with no-one there to see her, she didn’t feel quite confident enough to go skinny dipping – although she had to admit that, once wet, her bra and knickers weren’t going to do much for her modesty.
The Bodyguard in Her Room Page 2