Bodyguard Dearest (Bodyguard #1)

by Alison Foster

  “You can take one day off,” he says. “Hell, only hours ago you were planning to drop out permanently.”

  Condescending bastard. Exactly who does he think he is, treating me like I’m some stupid child? Even if I am.

  I’m done with trying to be civil with him. Whatever my issues may be, he has no right to make them worse. Turnabout is fair play. I plan to make things worse for him as well. He deserves it. You better watch out, Tanner Hayes. There’s a storm brewing and its name is Hurricane Trista.

  PART TWO

  Take Me Home

  -Two Years Later-

  Chapter 4

  Trista

  It’s fucking snowing. It’s been snowing for hours without a single break. Soft, swirling snowflakes stick to the dirty motel windows like wet glue.

  I’ve never seen that much snow before, not that I can remember anyway. I might have when I was a little girl and my father took us with him on one of his business trips up north or maybe to Europe. But I have no memories of it. I suppressed a whole bunch of memories when Miles, my five-year-old brother, was killed in that road accident. Our trips ended after that. My father started traveling alone and my three sisters and I went into therapy. I still haven’t been able to bring back all of my childhood memories from the time before my little brother died.

  Even up here, somewhere near Penticton, Canada, almost fourteen hundred miles away from Los Angeles, I know I’m not safe from my messed-up family’s reach. No matter how far I go, I will never be free or rid of them. They will haunt me like evil spirits in a medieval castle.

  In theory, a twenty-one-year old has every right in the world to pack up and go, even a few days before Christmas. That would be true everywhere else except in my father’s world. In that world, you do as you’re told and you say thank you for it. As long as he’s breathing, none of us is free or safe or even allowed to live a sane life. We live in fear of my father and in fear of his enemies, but maybe I will have a few days of reprieve this time before he locates me like he always does.

  My father has friends everywhere—the criminal world, the stock market, the entertainment business, politics. Sadly, that means he also has enemies everywhere, men who want nothing more than to bring him down or replace him. Loads of them. I’m never allowed to forget that. Ever since Miles died, he’s paranoid that the accident was orchestrated by a rival organization and it could happen again at any time which is why he keeps all of us, his daughters and wife, under a close watch. He always needs to know our location. I’m the only one who actively rebels against that. My sisters seem to be okay with most of it as long as they have their credit cards and drivers at their disposal.

  As soon as I got to Penticton, after twenty-four miserable hours in buses and at bus stations, I found a cheap motel near the highway because I wanted to pay with cash and I don’t have much. I’m beginning to realize how that might not have been the smartest choice. The heater works only anemically and the linen is anything but clean. Stains and hairs of various lengths still linger on the pillowcase and under the blanket—some of them look like they could be pubic. Yikes. There’s no way I’m getting under that blanket.

  The lady at the desk asked all kinds of random questions while I was checking in a few hours ago, like if I had a husband and children and where I went to college. For a moment, I got the impression she was trying to stall me but then she finally gave me the key and lost interest.

  Maybe I’m a little bit more paranoid than usual.

  Whatever. Even a dingy motel beats spending one more Christmas day with my family, surrounded by security and household staff, the constant presence of which makes it impossible to ever have a real conversation. Even worse, my control freak of a father barks out orders to employees and family members alike, giving instructions, supervising our every move.

  I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said that I want a normal life away from my father’s insanity. One that doesn’t involve security cameras and bodyguards and chauffeurs—most importantly one that doesn’t involve me living with my parents during my senior year in college. I’m fucking twenty-one years old already. Everyone must view me as a sheltered freak even if they don’t dare mention it to my face.

  My skin feels prickly as I’m snapped out of my self-pitying thoughts by a knock on the door. It’s gentle enough that I wonder if I just imagined it, but then quickly comes a second knock, a little bit more insistent than the first.

  “Who is it?” I say, looking through the peephole. All I can see is a… Christmas tree?

  No reply. I guess Christmas trees aren’t big on conversation.

  “What the hell?” I mutter as I open the door just a smidge. A second later, I yelp in shock and try to close the door shut when a man emerges from behind the green plastic tree.

  Tanner Hayes.

  “Did you really think it wouldn’t be me? Santa knows who’s naughty and nice,” he says, lodging his big boot between the door and the door frame before he pushes it wide open, flinging me backward in the process.

  My mind goes numb with thoughts of fleeing. I shouldn’t be stunned. Tanner is a curse I can’t shake, not for years, but I am at a loss as to how he could find me so fast.

  Tanner paces around the room, putting the Christmas tree down by the bed. It’s a huge, fake tree, complete with cheap ornaments and lights that start blinking when he finally plugs them in after struggling to locate an electrical socket.

  “Kind of brings a little of the season into this shit hole,” he mutters.

  I stare at him silently, unable to understand what the fuck is happening. I don’t get it. How in hell did he find me? Yes, my father’s security team is sharp and fast but for the life of me I don’t see how Tanner even figured out I fled, let alone how he located me and drove up here. Did he take a helicopter? A plane? There’s something not adding up.

  He suddenly turns to me with a smug look on his face. I hate him and yet I can’t stop noticing his bulging muscles. Tanner is one of nature’s most successful experiments as far as integrating a breathtaking physique with cocky coolness. I never tire of composing a quick list of all his attributes in my head—tall and spectacularly ripped and poised with a closely cropped crew cut that accentuates his angular features.

  He oozes sensuality and confidence. He can grab control of any situation. Too bad he’s arrogant, not to mention my father’s right hand. I can’t even count the times he has saved the great Jordan Kane’s ass.

  “What’s your plan about the cockroaches?” he says after an interlude of silent staring as he assesses the miserable room.

  “Cockroaches?” I cringe a little at the idea. “They’ve probably all frozen to death in here.”

  “Yeah, you’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? This room would be warm to many people in the world,” he says and then leisurely extends his leg to crush something with his boot.

  It takes me a while to determine the squishy sound was him stepping on a cockroach.

  OMG, this is so disgusting. I’ve had it with him and his cold, controlling, manipulative ways. “I’m an adult, Tanner. Go the fuck back to Los Angeles. You can’t make me do anything against my will. This is Canada. I won’t cross at the border and I won’t get on a plane.”

  The staring competition begins once again until a grin forms on his lips. “I think I can make you do anything I want,” he says, as cool as ice.

  His nonchalance disturbs me a little. It always has. I better strike back fast before he takes over completely. “I get it. Little Tanner is afraid my father will be mad if he goes back empty-handed,” I say in a mocking voice. “Do you want to be a good boy for him? Just pretend you didn’t find me, because I’m not going.”

  He takes a step closer and grabs my wrist, forcing me to take a few steps backward to the couch. “Sit,” he says, pushing me down. “You and I are going to have a little chat.”

  I’m thrown off my game like by a lot. No matter how menacing or even lethal Tanner can be, he�
�s never laid a finger on me for years. Not since the little incident when I was nineteen. Since then he’s always handled me with care and a distant reverence, almost as if I could break if he touched me.

  He leans over me until his face is barely an inch away from mine. “Your little rebellion comes to an end. It’s not as simple as you think. If I can find you, then others can find you, too. If Jordan Kane’s daughter runs off from his protection, eventually the wrong people will show up at your doorstep.”

  “Huh! Isn’t that what just happened? The wrong guy showing up at my doorstep?” I say. “Tanner, I should think by now you know me better than that. I grew up in this world. You can’t scare me so easily.”

  “If your father sends his other men or if his enemies come for you one day, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  “Who asked for your guarantees? You’re so deluded thinking I am only safe under your protection. Christ complex much?”

  “Your father’s other men are not so careful. They take chances. I do not. How about we stop wasting time and you do exactly as I say? Sound doable?”

  “No, I am not doing anything with you,” I say, glaring at him.

  He takes hold of my arm and squeezes it.

  “You fucking asshole,” I say, trying not to show discomfort. “My father won’t tolerate you manhandling me.”

  He chuckles. “Oh yeah? He’d do far worse if he could get his hands on you right now. You’ve been a thorn in his side ever since I’ve known you.”

  Three years. That’s how long he’s known me. Apparently that’s how long he’s thought of me as a problem. Not the most flattering way to think of a woman. I don’t give a shit what he thinks.

  Tanner sighs, letting go of my arm to sit on the couch next to me. “Listen, Tris. Do you really understand who you are? There are limitations. You can’t just run off. People care about you.”

  I think I prefer his brutish side. The cozy animosity of our combative relationship has become strangely comfortable. This fake concern bothers the shit out of me.

  “Why you exactly?” I say, trying to return us to a contentious track so this strange proximity will mutate back into a welcome hostility.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You’re the head of my father’s sizable security team. The days you were supposed to be my personal bodyguard are long gone. Why does it have to be you that comes after me every fucking time? I know you’re sick of me. You just admitted it.”

  He licks his lips and then forms a sly grin. “Nobody else wants the job.”

  Yeah, right. I bet he gets a sick pleasure out of my defeat every time. It must feel awesome to resolve the problem girl issue for my father, to bring me to my knees, to keep me weak and resigned.

  That’s the nature of his unique profession. He makes all the unsightly problems disappear for whoever is the highest bidder.

  *

  Tanner

  This girl has been a ball busting pain in my ass since the day I took over the family’s protection almost three years ago. The first morning I reported to work, she’d been out all night and never returned home. I found her passed out in the arms of a skinny twit under the bleachers of a high school football field.

  Out of all of Jordan Kane’s daughters she’s the least spoiled but also the hardest to handle. She’s intelligent, I’ll give her that. Her serial defiance might be admirable if it weren’t so completely reckless. How does that work exactly? How can someone so intelligent do such senseless things?

  Jordan Kane isn’t just powerful and dangerous. He has also caused a lot of damage to a lot of people. There’s no shortage of those who want leverage against him or just want to ruin his life the way he had done theirs.

  She can’t fucking get it through her head that the more erratic her behavior becomes, the bigger the walking target she becomes. This is basic shit in her father’s world. The girl needs a good blue-collar spanking, the one she missed in her privileged childhood.

  I wasn’t on the job when her brother was killed. That would have never happened on my watch. I don’t fail. I’ve never lost an assignment. They’re all still breathing.

  Tris sits on the couch, smiling at me in the most provocative way she can muster, no doubt hoping she’ll get me to lose my concentration. Amateur hour. She thought she was safe from my watch up here in this dingy Canadian town. She thought she had managed to fool everyone this time when in reality I’ve been on her trail since the moment she snuck out the bathroom window of her uncle’s home during the holiday family gathering and walked all the way to the bus stop where she had hidden a bag under the bench.

  When the fuck did she hide that bag? She probably had someone help her cause I’ve been her shadow every time she steps out of the house. She doesn’t know how dedicated I am. She doesn’t know I’ve made it my personal mission to know what she does and with whom. Because I hate surprises and Tris Kane, well, she is full of them.

  The girl is a fucking time bomb but she won’t go off. Not on my watch.

  “Listen, Tanner,” she says, changing her tone, “I know I can be a headache for your security team but look at it this way. If you let me disappear, no more headaches.”

  Nice try—well, not really. Her suggestion pisses me off more than any insult ever could. I don’t abandon my charge, not even when I sleep, and I certainly don’t let a client slip off into the wilderness. I would think by now she would know me better.

  “We’re leaving in five minutes,” I say sternly. “Powder your nose. Collect your shit.”

  She flashes me one of her intensely disapproving glances, the type that probably means she’s trying to come up with another plan to lose me. Dumb. Just dumb. The girl probably hates me right now. Always probably. I don’t give a shit. Tris Kane is a pampered rich girl. That’s all. This is my job. I take it seriously. I’m not going to let her get to me.

  Chapter 5

  Trista

  I despise him. Did I say that already? When he brought me back when I ran away with Vaughn, Tanner Hayes crossed a line. He had no right. I was nineteen already and free to go wherever I wanted with whomever I wanted. But that never bothered my father or Tanner for that matter. They treat me like my personal will doesn’t matter one ounce—not that I cared all that much about that coward, Vaughn, but it was my choice to make.

  It took all of about three days for Tanner to show up in a black armored minivan, terrifying the entire neighborhood when he started pacing around in a dark suit, a menacing scowl and a highly visible handgun flashing from his shoulder holster.

  It’s hard to forget how he aggressively questioned neighbors and passersby alike for over an hour even though he knew exactly where to find me. By the time he was done, the whole town wanted me gone.

  So here we are, yet again—this swollen specimen of a man all that’s standing between me and my freedom. Would it help if I yelled? Would anyone call the police in this dive motel? I doubt it.

  I should probably get smart and try to buy myself some time. He watches me closely as I get off the couch and walk to the closet where I left my suitcase.

  “How old are you? Forty-five? Don’t you want to do something besides take orders?” I say this to throw him off.

  I know he’s thirty. I know he served in Afghanistan when he was in his early twenties although I’m not sure what he did there exactly. It’s not like Tanner Hayes is an open book or a chatter box. In fact, I don’t think I’ve heard him talk as much as he has today in a very long time and I have definitely never heard him mention his personal life. I don’t think he has one.

  Does he have parents, uncles, siblings? Does he have a home somewhere? Does he fuck anyone ever at all? Does he even have a penis? Does he play with it? Does he go to the bathroom? No clue.

  I do know that he growls under his breath and it’s, well, almost sensual. I hate that being female I am therefore aware of all his brutish attributes. I want to bang my head against a wall every time I steal a curious glance at him.


  No one should find the person they detest most attractive.

  “Get on with it,” he coughs out his order, giving me an angry stare. “The five minutes are almost up. Buy more junk when you get home. Take daddy’s credit card. Thirty seconds and I’ll be dragging you out, suitcase or not.”

  He wants me to get ready? Okay, I guess that’s what I’ll do. Cause I’m as sure as hell not going out in my flannel shirt and lounge pants. This outfit was motel room intended only. Rural Canada or not I’m not going out like an urchin.

  I turn my back to him. I take a quick breath, roll my eyes and pull down my pants. I wonder if Mr. Professional is taking a peek. I imagine him quietly growling. Maybe he did. I suddenly feel more naked than before.

  Taking my sweet time, gliding the pants down to my ankles and feet, I’m dying to know where his eyes are staring. It takes a lot of effort not to peek. I’ve been told before I have a cute butt, but who knows what this beast likes? Probably giant Viking women.

  I put my hands under the hem of my flannel shirt to pull it off. I think I hear him shift his position on the couch but I can’t be certain. At least I shut him up. As my skin gets all tingly from the cool air and I’m left standing in nothing but my panties—no bra, thank you very much, this was supposed to be strictly me time spent watching bad cable movies and eating chips—it hits me that I have to consider the possibility that the reason Tanner pisses me off so much is precisely because I’m physically obsessed with him.

  I bend over to reach into my suitcase. I take my time. No man can keep his eyes off a woman bending over.

  Not so professional now, are you, big guy?

  I mean, just the thought of being taken by this savage, getting lost in all that goodly, bulging muscle mass, hoisted around and played with for hours… lord, yes, I’m one hundred percent certain he could go on for hours with the proper incentives. Not to mention he might…