Model Bodyguard (Haven Investigations Book 2)

by Lissa Kasey

  “I agree,” Ollie said. “I’m just warning you. Jacob won’t like it.”

  He could not like a lot of things, but that didn’t mean he’d get his way every time. “What about the guy who isn’t doing the articles anymore?” I asked.

  “Still looking. I have contact info. He just hasn’t responded yet. It may be a corner situation.” Meaning one of us would have to corner him to get him to talk.

  “I’ll prod Jacob some more about the articles. He seems more concerned about those than the threats he’s getting. Though he’s sort of gone all quiet in the past few hours. It’s a little eerie. Maybe the toy in the limo spooked him.” Only he hadn’t seen it. I frowned.

  “He’s gonna sing, right?”

  “One song, I guess.”

  “It’s how he gets into the zone. Right before he performs is the only time he’s quiet,” Ollie said.

  “So you’re saying this zombie Jacob is normal?”

  “Yep.”

  Voices drifted closer and the woman who’d shown us to the dressing area appeared with a man carrying a huge bag. Wardrobe maybe? He was so not getting closer without a thorough search. “Gotta go, babe. Have to feel up the wardrobe guy.”

  Ollie laughed. “Careful of pockets. Lots of pins and clips.”

  I grinned as I told him I loved him and then ended the call.

  The wardrobe guy did not like that I demanded ID, which I scanned and sent to Ollie. Then searched his bags. He liked even less that I took his scissors and a small sewing kit he’d had stuffed among the clothing. “You can have these back when you leave,” I promised him.

  “Who the hell are you? Since when is Jacob hard-core?”

  I couldn’t stop my burst of laughter. It actually took me a moment to regain my composure and wave the man into the room. Since when wasn’t Jacob hard-core? I couldn’t stop snickering. Jacob gave me the stink eye but said nothing while he let the wardrobe guy dress him up like a paper doll.

  I leaned against the door watching, making note of how my presence in the room made everyone uncomfortably full of tension. They weren’t used to having his security this close. They’d have to learn. How did he live this long without being accosted by crazies?

  “The new guy’s kind of hot,” the wardrobe guy said to the makeup girl, not being at all shy about me hearing him. He looked me over and tilted his head in that campy gay way that I mostly only ever saw on TV. “He can frisk me anytime.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “So long as he returns my stuff as promised.”

  “Don’t talk, Fritz,” Kisten demanded, obviously annoyed. “No one wants to hear you talk.”

  The room went eerily quiet. Jacob hadn’t said a word, or even glanced up to look at anyone. His lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. His leg shook, foot tapping to a beat only he seemed to hear, and he barely responded at all to anyone. They all poked and prodded him, moving him around as though he were a manikin.

  A knock on the door knocked me out of a light meditation, but no one else noticed. There was a guy on the other side of the door with a giant headset on, who said, “We need him for sound check in five.” He handed me a box and pointed down the opposite end of the hall. “That way leads to the stage area.”

  “Is there anyone there right now?” I asked. Were the fans here yet?

  “Just the tech crew setting up.” He waved at the box he’d given me. “That’s his earpiece.” Then he walked away. I closed the door and opened the box, inspecting the small earbud that would help feed him audio. I didn’t know a lot about how music was made. But I’d seen enough live shows to know that all singers wore one of these.

  Nothing looked off about it so I walked it over and held it out to Kisten. The assistant blinked at me for a minute like he’d forgotten I was there, then took the box and pulled out the earpiece. He put a few things together and fashioned it around Jacob’s right ear, bud nestling inside, mostly invisible.

  “Tech guy says they need him for sound check,” I told Kisten, who just nodded.

  “Finish up, guys.”

  The group stepped away from Jacob, who stood still now that they weren’t examining every inch of him. He looked almost dazed. Had he taken something while I was at the door? So far I’d yet to see him take anything, including food or water. What was it with these celebrities and their bad eating habits? Maybe Ollie hadn’t had bad eating habits before he’d met Jacob. I’d have to ask B and Will about it later.

  Jacob’s eyes landed on me. They were clear, but distant, like his mind was elsewhere.

  “Sound check?” I asked him.

  He nodded once and took a step forward. I let Kisten lead the way out, down the hall and to the giant studio area. There were fastened seats on one side, but only twenty or so of them. There was a desk on the other, very late-showish, and an open stage sort of area that had several speakers set up. Crew moved around the equipment, plugging things in, taping cords down, and occasionally tapping on a microphone or strumming a guitar. Jacob’s live band apparently consisted of a drummer, a guitarist, and a bassist. I recognized them from the profile list Ollie had set up for me. Regulars in the live band of Jacob Elias but not staples since the group really was just him. The musicians he traveled with changed all the time. Often in the middle of a tour. And whoever he recorded with in the studio was chosen by his record label. He didn’t appear to be close to any of them, which seemed odd to me. But a lot about Jacob was becoming a sea of contrasts.

  Jacob headed toward the microphone with Kisten at his side whispering things in his ear. A moment later Kisten stepped away and flagged down the woman who’d shown us to the dressing room. They stepped away from the crowd. I wondered if they were discussing the show or how asinine their bosses were.

  Emily stood off to the side with a man I didn’t recognize. He was tall, my height mostly, dressed in khaki pants and a sweater over a button-up. It was a very Mister Rogers sort of outfit. Or maybe just office neutral. Tomas wore similar tops, but all with more style, patterns, and colors. And I don’t think he owned a pair of khaki pressed pants. It was more a generational thing maybe, since I did have a few pairs, though hadn’t worn them much after I’d begun dating Ollie. He hated that particular shade of “baby poop brown.” The man wasn’t handsome, not in the traditional way, more rugged-older-man good-looking. He might have looked better with facial hair instead of the clean-cut jaw that showed a dimpled chin and thin lips. He was very different from the rock star persona Emily portrayed standing next to him.

  I took a turn around the stage area, looking for any obvious signs that something might be up. Everyone seemed to have a purpose. No one appeared nervous or suspicious or even seemed to be watching Jacob. It was the one time that I could have used more guys. There was no way to search everyone and everything without stopping the entire show. I was pretty sure Jacob would have a fit if I tried, even if it was for his safety. Mostly he ignored me. He took his place in front of the microphone and began playing with some of the controls near his feet with the steel toe of his boots. I headed over to Emily. She gave me a weary smile. Since she’d slept late, I didn’t get why she looked tired.

  She introduced the man next to her. “This is my husband, Levi. He does a lot of accounting for Jacob. Though it’s a job too big just for him anymore.”

  Levi held out his hand to me, which I shook. “The new bodyguard. Good to see someone taking security seriously. Emily has been pretty worried.” I let go of Levi’s hand. He was easily ten to fifteen years older than Emily, I was sure. What an odd couple they made. Her, the hipster rock chick, and him, the boring older accountant. Maybe since her brother was a little nuts in the sex department, she just liked being super vanilla. Or maybe he was like a lot of serial killers—cool and calm on the exterior but crazy underneath. “He inspires a lot of unusual fans,” Levi said. “I’m sure it’s not as serious as Emily fears, but good that someone is taking charge of him.”

  “I’m seeing that she has reason to be worried,”
I told Levi. And apparently her brother kept her in the dark about some of the worst of it. “I’d like to talk with you about Jacob’s accounts when you have time. I have some questions about some of his charitable givings.”

  Levi’s eyes widened and he glanced at his wife, who was busy looking through her phone. So she didn’t know about the fake baby payments, and that’s what Levi believed I was referring to. I wondered if there were other unusual payments going out of Jacob’s accounts. Levi nodded. “Certainly. Let me know when you have the time. I’m sure Jacob shared some details with you.”

  Oh yeah, that was putting it lightly.

  “He’s given me a printed list, but I was hoping to get something digital. Easier to sort through. And maybe you know more about any other oddities that are popping up in his financial records?”

  Levi frowned slightly. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  I really wanted to know what went to his family, individual by individual. Maybe there was a black sheep who felt left out. Having one accountant was never a good idea. It made embezzling easier, and took someone stumbling across it to catch. How much did Levi designate out to others? How much control did he have? Sadly, the accounting thing wasn’t my forte. “My partner Oliver is really good with computers and financial records. Maybe you could let him look over the accounts?”

  Levi stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’d have to get permission from Jacob for that.”

  “Of course,” I allowed. I’d strong-arm the permission out of him if I had to.

  There was a crackle and a pop. I glanced back at the stage, wondering about the noise. There was a lot of noise in the room. People talking, instruments being tuned, feedback from some of the amps. The band began to play, but Jacob was just humming into the mic at this point. His eyes were closed and he seemed to just be listening. He could sing. I gave him that. Even his humming was musically pleasing and in tune, though I hadn’t heard him practice at all since arriving at his house this morning. The noise was louder than I was used to.

  Another crackle made me jump. I looked around for the source of the sound since no one else seemed to notice it. Levi was now engaged in conversation with Emily, so I couldn’t ask him about it. Kisten had completely disappeared. Most of the crew were off to the side or wore protective headphones.

  Maybe it was normal feedback? Part of what they were doing the sound check for, to work out the bumps. It appeared that Jacob planned to sing live, not just lip-sync for the group.

  Did anyone else smell smoke?

  A speaker, not two feet from Jacob, sizzled and popped. The second I saw the orange lick of flame appear, I dove at Jacob, slamming into him around the middle and taking us both to the ground, with me on top. The boom that followed shook the entire room. Stuff hit me. Debris probably, peppering me in a wide spray of tiny projectile missiles. My ass stung and my leg began to throb, warning me I’d twisted it when I’d lunged at Jacob.

  I lay over Jacob, covering him as the room billowed with smoke and my ears popped from the pressure. Jacob was making an odd keening noise beneath me. I searched him for wounds, but he was gripping his head. I pulled his hands away, yanking out the earpiece with it. It was bloodied but intact, and he fought with me to return his hands to his head. The sound of feedback screeched from the earpiece, sharp and painful, and it hadn’t even been close to my ear.

  Shit. Things had just gone from threats to serious.

  Chapter Twelve

  I PACED the corridor of the hospital while waiting for someone to come and update me on Jacob’s status. Everyone else sat in the waiting area like it was just a trip to the spa. Kisten continued with his planning and scheduling. Emily was working on some promotional ad for the upcoming tour on her laptop, and Levi had vanished to find real coffee—not the vending machine brown water—half an hour ago. A lot of the crew and Jacob’s bandmates had been admitted downstairs. Most of the injuries appeared minor. I’d ridden with Jacob in the back of the ambulance, with him too incoherent and filled with pain to do more than grip my hand. Memories of accompanying Ollie this way a few months ago kept flashing through my head—the panic, horror, and fear chilling me to the core.

  The behavior of his people was off. This guy was their meal ticket. Family for half of them. I scowled at the group who never looked up once, no matter how many doctors or nurses walked by. It was like they were waiting for him to finish a haircut rather than possibly in surgery for a bleeding ear, and any minute he’d come strolling out as good as new, ready to bark orders.

  My hip ached, knee throbbed, and I knew I was bruised. When they’d taken Jacob behind closed doors and told me to wait, I’d been frustrated. He’d almost been killed on my watch. But nothing I said would let me in their sterile examination room. Several nurses assured me of his safety, and that the floor would be closed off for him. No one up without being triple-checked. It shouldn’t have been me worried about the safety of Oliver’s ex. That honor should have gone to his family, and it frustrated me to be the only one left who seemed to care. Ex or not, he was my charge. Had been hurt in my care. It bugged the hell out of me. So I paced from one side of the hall to the other, no matter how much I hurt. They had to be out soon, right?

  Ollie appeared as the elevator door slid open and a security guard held it for him. Who knew that celebrities could have entire private wings of hospitals? At least they’d keep the press out. Everyone who’d exited the elevator so far had been security or hospital staff with legit badges—I’d been checking. I’d called Ollie the second I’d reached the hospital so he wouldn’t freak when he heard about the explosion on the news. And it was already on the news. I’d seen the screen above the waiting area flip through several concerned entertainment news stations voicing a “need for answers.”

  Ollie was at my side in seconds, hands on my face. I flinched when his fingers brushed my cheek and his touch stung. He frowned at me. “You should let someone look at you.”

  “Once I know how Jacob’s doing. Man, am I the shittiest bodyguard or what?”

  He snorted and hugged me carefully. “It could have been worse.”

  He was right of course. The melted mass of plastic and metal that had remained of Jacob’s microphone attested to that. I was pretty sure there’d been pieces of the amp embedded into the far wall. It had been a small explosion. Almost inconsequential. If Jacob hadn’t been standing two feet from the speaker at the time, he’d likely not have been hurt at all. Not that it wasn’t dangerous since a half-dozen of the crew had been sent to the hospital. But not as big as it could have been. A warning or a real attempt, I wondered.

  Ollie glanced over the group in the waiting room.

  “Are they always this cold?” I had to ask.

  He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jacob hurt before. Maybe it just hasn’t hit them yet?”

  I shook my head. “If you were in there, I’d be freaking out. Will and Britney would be freaking out.” An unsettling memory wrenched my gut. It wasn’t all that long ago that Ollie had been the one behind closed doors.

  He put his arms around my waist and rested his head on my shoulder, hugging me, letting his heat warm me. When had the room become so cold? “I’m right here,” he whispered.

  I let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Sorry,” I grumbled at him. It was him I was picturing behind closed doors, unable to protect. Him, I would scream and kick my way through to save.

  The elevator opened and this time it was Duke and a small group of guards. He waved the hospital security away and headed toward us. I shifted Ollie to my left so I could take Duke’s offered guy-clench. Ollie hid a snort in my neck. The manly chest-beating stuff always made him laugh. Before dating him I’d never understood what he meant, but now saw it coming from a mile away. It was instinct for me. Trained from years trying to be the man the world expected me to be. After living with Ollie for six months, it was easier to step outside that role and just be whatever. Even if that meant
sometimes walking around the house in just a jock and eating icing from a can with a spoon. Ollie never protested. He raised a brow at my love for frosting, but didn’t mind accepting sweet kisses when I passed by.

  “Sorry we weren’t there.” Duke glanced around. “The police took a while. Asked a million questions. Wanted security tapes of the house.”

  “Do you have security tapes of the house?” I had to ask since it would make finding who was dropping gifts off much easier.

  “Not inside, but outside, yeah. I gave them what we have, but I think the system is programmed to loop and write over itself to save space. It’s an old system.”

  I glanced at Ollie, knowing he’d be hacking in to find the security feed as soon as he had access to a computer and some privacy. “And at the studio for the interview?”

  Duke shook his head. “No idea. Last I heard the police were all over that too. Security here seems tight. They were keeping everyone away downstairs and policing the halls hard. Is he out yet? Any idea how he’s doing?”

  “No.”

  Ollie pulled away a minute and headed to the nurses’ station. I watched him go, taking note of how his outfit was now stained with soot. Shit.

  Duke looked me over and glanced at Ollie. “Maybe you should get looked at? There’s blood on your face.”

  There was? I hadn’t had time to stop and look at myself anywhere. I reached up to touch my stinging cheek, but stopped before making contact. Ollie’s slight touch had hurt. Maybe I was more than just bruised. “Can you keep the hall clear and send me a message if there’s an update on Jacob?”

  Duke nodded. He pulled out his phone. “Give me your number.”

  I listed it off for him, then said, “Do not let him leave the hospital without me. This has gone from childish games to serious shit now. Plus the cops want to question him.”

  “He’s not gonna like that,” Duke pointed out.

  I shrugged. “He’ll get over it.”