Guarding Madison (Bodyguards, Inc.)

by Tabitha Gibson

  He couldn’t make her understand that no matter all the precautions she took, it only takes one slip up and she could be dead.

  That thought chilled him to the bone. Life without Madison didn’t sound so good. He knew she was just a job but even if he saw her from a distance, it would be worth it.

  Her smile lit up any room she was in and he knew because he watched her. Not just out of a business perspective but from a man’s perspective. Perfect skin, luminous green eyes and lips meant for serious kissing. By him only, of course, he thought jealously.

  And her body. He couldn’t imagine anyone who had a more lovely body than hers. All he wanted to do was cover it with his own and show her how incredible she really was. Trace knew that she wasn’t the wham, bam, thank you ma’am type of woman either. She was one to be carefully undressed and worshiped by his hands and lips before joining his body with hers. The visual left him hard as a rock.

  Looking down at her now made the pain in his pants worse. There was only one way to relieve it but he couldn’t. His job of keeping her safe was his number one priority and Trace couldn’t lose sight of that. It could cost Madison her life.

  Perhaps just one taste of her lips would ease his need and sate the obvious desire that flowed between them both. His body thrilled the way her body reacted to his and he was very aware of her harden nipples pressing into his chest. Her soft panting and inviting lips drove him to distraction. It would be so easy.

  Abruptly Trace released her. He took a few steps away to calm his racing heart and to get control over himself. A moment later, he turned back to Madison and winced at the look in her eyes.

  “Point made,” she whispered.

  Trace could hear the hurt that was laced in her voice. God he wanted to comfort her but he shouldn’t. He had to make her face up to how easy it was to get close to her and slip a knife between her ribs. As much as it pained him, he would rather hurt her now than someone else hurt her later.

  “Good,” he said and cleared his throat.

  “But we’ll still discuss my doing the stunt closer to the filming date.”

  Trace wasn’t surprised by her stubbornness. It was one of the many qualities that he appreciated about her. Still, he had to make her understand how vulnerable she was out in the open and what an easy mark she made attempting a stunt. He made a mental note to have a discussion with this Stanley person.

  He watched her square her shoulders and with her head held high, leave the room. Damn he hated this.

  Chapter 6

  Madison didn’t stop until she was safely in her room. She didn’t bother to lock the door though. Trace would probably just kick it down if he wanted in and she didn’t want to have to replace another door.

  She thought about going out on the balcony to enjoy the warm weather but doubted her jailer would let her stay there. Instead she curled up on the chaise lounge and picked up the script to study.

  Out of curiosity, she thumbed to the end of the script where the stunt was to occur and read it thoroughly to see what the big deal was. According to the script, her character is pushed off of the roof of a building but manages to survive. The killer falls with her but doesn’t survive.

  With special effects today, what really could go wrong?

  She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the scene but visions of Trace kept invading instead.

  His hand touched her hand and slid achingly slow up her bare arm. She bit her lower lip as he eased down next to her and leaned closer to her body.

  She reveled in the warmth of his breath, the soft scrape of his chin whiskers tickling her neck.

  She arched her back and pushed her breasts out against his hands while he cupped and tested their weight before his fingertips zeroed in on her hard nipples. She giggled at his complaint of her bra and shirt in his way.

  “Take it off then,” she suggested and gave a sound between a gasp and laugh as he ripped open her expensive shirt open and made quick work of the bra clasp.

  Flutters filled her stomach as he nipped and licked his way around her distended flesh before settling center and drawing a long, shuddering sigh from her lips.

  Her hands worked up his arm before her fingertips ran through his short hair trying in vain to tug and press him closer all at the same time. She smiled at his hand on her leg, moving slowly up under her skirt before resting on her hip. God she wanted more. She needed more.

  “Please,” she whispered and moved her hips towards his body.

  And she was pleased when his hand continued its movement around to her back end and gripped one cheek firmly. She delighted in his strength and almost complained when his mouth left her bared breasts to kiss her neck.

  Her leg lifted to curl around his thigh in an effort to experience the desire she knew he possessed when she noticed he had stopped kissing her. Something was wrong.

  “I can’t.”

  Madison opened her eyes to discover that this was not the hot dream she believed it was. It was very real, including the intense look in Trace’s eyes. She was horrified to discover that her blouse had indeed been ripped open and her breasts were bare to his gaze while her skirt had been pushed up around her waist.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered and pushed at Trace to let her up then scrambled up herself to straighten her clothing. “Oh, God.”

  “Madison,” he began but stopped.

  Madison held her hands to her cheek, her hands warmed by slow burn left behind from embarrassment. She rushed to the bathroom and shut the door, locking it before he could stop her.

  “Madison, please. Open the door.”

  “Trace, please just go away. Please,” her voice shook as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. Please go Trace, she thought.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, please don’t be sorry. Just go. I want to be alone.”

  She heard him sigh and after a minute, her bedroom door open and then close. Thankfully he had left. Now she could be properly mortified.

  Madison turned on the shower and removed the rest of her clothing before stepping under the harsh, heated water. She had never been so embarrassed in her entire life. It’s one thing to throw yourself at a guy, it’s another to do it while half asleep and get turned down.

  Why had he turned her on then turned her down? It had to be her body. Not the skin and bones he expected under her skirt. Never mind the fact that she was just a job. Her mind drifted back to seeing her slightly dimpled thighs when she stood up. He probably thought each one was the Grand Canyon. A visit to the closet was in order.

  Leaving the shower, she dried off quickly and put on a robe before slipping quietly into her closet. She had devoured a half dozen kisses before putting the lid back on the box of hidden goodies.

  This is not the way Madison, she chided herself.

  Rising, she went back to the mirror and stared at herself closely. Coward. She just had to resign herself that she was destined to be the bridesmaid and never a bride.

  A knock sounded on her door and startled her. God, what if it was Trace?

  “Madison?”

  It was Carol’s voice. Relief swept over her. She tugged the door open and pulled her in.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Just exhausted.”

  “Well, dinner is ready. Then you can retire early for the night if you like,” Carol suggested.

  Madison’s eyes lit up then. “Carol? I need a favor from you.”

  Trace watched Madison enter the dining room and suppressed the now familiar tightening between his legs. His eyes never left her face, hoping to let her know silently that everything was ok but she never looked at him.

  Dinner was awkwardly silent with the exception of light conversation between Jay and Maggie. Madison would comment on occasion but for the most part she remained silent. Trace brooded and grunted answers when questions were tossed his way. Damn, he wanted to talk to Madison. He wanted to apologize for his behavior in her bedroom but more importantly, make her
understand that it wasn’t her, it was him.

  He was angry at himself for hurting her. He could see it in her eyes, her body language and could hear it in her voice. He should have known better than to get personally involved. Unfortunately, it was a little late for that.

  “Excuse me. I’m a bit tired tonight so I’m going to bed early,” Madison announced and interrupted his thoughts. He started to rise but she held out her hand for him to remain seated. “Carol can see me to my room. Good night.”

  Without a backward glance, she left the room with the housekeeper in tow.

  Damn.

  Trace rose with every intention of following her but stopped himself. Keep it generic Trace, he thought to himself and made a turn for Jay’s office instead. It’s just a job.

  Collapsing in his chair, Trace kicked his feet back on the desk and supported his head with his hands. He should have turned his hog around and rode off when they hit mistake number three. He made his uncle a promise though and had to at least give it a chance.

  Now look at the mess he was in: Up to his leather chaps in Hollywood horseshit and half in love with their number one darling.

  Did he just think the word love? Oh hell.

  Trace stood quickly and exited through one of the terrace doors. He had to get out of there for a while. Hell forever if he knew what was good for him. But he knew he wouldn’t leave her. Not as long as she needed his protection, he’d be back.

  In one smooth movement, he straddled his vintage motorcycle and turned the key, loving how the engine purred under him. He closed his eyes and imagined Madison purring under him for a moment and shuddered in hardened agony.

  Trace glanced up at the house, focusing on Madison’s bedroom balcony. He thought about going back in and letting her know that he was leaving. Instead, he cursed again and gave the throttle a hard twist before he roared off into the night.

  The small bar was more of a dive but Trace liked it anyway. Del’s, as it was called, mainly hosted bikers but with such a laid back atmosphere, it had a nice eclectic mix during the later part of the week. There was the occasional fight, but what bar didn’t have that problem?

  Shaking hands with the bouncer at the door, a long-time friend, Trace made his way to the bar and ordered an overdue beer.

  “Trace! Where ya been, man?”

  The bartender greeted Trace with an enthusiastic handshake and a rarely seen smile.

  “How’s it hangin’ Del?” Trace returned the cheerful greeting and sat at the end of the bar on a leather and wooden stool.

  “Low and to the left,” Del replied with a grin and loud laugh. His large belly shook with his glee and within a minute had a cold bottle of beer in his hand. “The usual?”

  “You know it my man.” Trace reached in his pocket for the folded bills but stopped at Del’s harsh glare. “You know your money’s not good here.” A smile replaced the glare. “As long as I live and breathe, which is mainly due to you.”

  Trace clapped the burly man on the shoulder and thanked him before lifting the frosted bottle to his lips. A long drink later, he found the bottle drained and a fresh one waited for him. He wasn’t surprised. Tossing the glass bottle in the recycle container, he slowed down on his drinking and merely enjoyed the momentary freedom while he could.

  “Hey. You’re in my seat.”

  Trace didn’t flinch at the voice. In fact, he ignored it. Surely no intelligent man would pick a bar fight with someone his size. Unless he was bigger. He guessed they wanted to find out if the old cliché about being bigger and falling harder was true.

  “I said you’re in my seat,” the voice said again, only this time with a tap on Trace’s shoulder.

  “Funny, I didn’t see your name on it. Maybe you should just find another seat to take.”

  “Maybe you should just move your ass before I move it for you.”

  Trace let out a deep sigh and took another drink of his beer before rising and turning around. He sized up the man, noticing that he wasn’t alone. He could take them both but was too damn tired to do it. On the other hand, maybe a good fight was just what he needed to work out his frustrations.

  “Are you asking me to dance?” Trace asked before chuckling.

  “Why I ought to –“ he began but was interrupted by another man who had approached.

  “Move along?”

  The menacing man squirmed slightly before nodding. He swallowed hard and raising his hands in defeat, moved away from Trace.

  “Aww dammit Lex. I was just starting to have fun.”

  Alexander Cameron shook his head and closed the switchblade he had held discretely low. “Come on,” he said and tugged Trace over toward his table.

  “Trace! What’s up man?” A man sitting on one of the three chairs surrounding a small table rose and clasped Trace’s forearm with his hand. Trace gave the large man a crooked grin.

  “Nate, good to see you.” Trace returned his grip before joining the two men at the table.

  Nathan Garrett took a big swig of his beverage and waved the empty mug at the bartender. “So where ya been man?”

  “On the job,” Trace replied and leaned back in the chair’s cushion to put his feet up on the short table.

  Lex lit two thin cigars and passed one to Trace. The thin trail of smoke merely added to the already smoky atmosphere in the building. Trace took it eagerly and with a long drag, he blew several smoke rings before snapping his fingers. “I still got it.”

  “You alright Trace?”

  Trace turned to Lex and gave him the thumbs up before combining a drink with a drag from the cigar.

  “It’s a woman, isn’t it?” Lex’s question ended up sounding more like a statement. Nate nearly choked on his refreshed beverage from Del.

  Trace didn’t reply with a denial or confirmation. He merely kept drinking. Seeing he was near the end of the beer, he looked over to Del who was on his way with a small pail holding several bottles with ice to keep them cold. Saluting Del, Trace grabbed a fresh bottle and studied the fireball on the end of his cigar.

  “Yep, it’s a woman,” Lex said in answer to his own question. “It’s always a woman when they drive you to drink and smoke.”

  “We always drink and smoke,” Nate said sounding confused. Lex reached out and smacked the back of his head. “Watch it baldy,” Nate grumbled at Lex.

  “Damn Hollywoodites,” Trace muttered.

  “Oh man. You back on the Walk-Of-Fame beat again?” Nate rubbed his hands together. “Who is it? Nicole? Julia? Oh, Beyonce?” Nate rose and gave a hip grind and belted out a line from the latest song from Beyonce.

  Trace looked at Nate like he had lost his mind. “No. But it’s profitable.”

  “I’ll bet it is,” Nate replied, collapsed in his chair and began rubbing his hands together again. “In more than one way too.”

  “Hey! Don’t make me kick your ass.”

  Nate chuckled and took one of Trace’s beers having found his glass empty again. “No need to get froggy, my man. Just havin’ fun.”

  “Well don’t. She not that kind of woman.”

  “You hit the big time my friend,” Lex commented. Usually their clients were political or paranoid business moguls.

  “He hit the bottle too,” Nate said with a laugh then rose to head for the men’s room.

  “Damn Madison. Why did it have to be you?” Trace wondered out loud.

  “Madison? As in Madison Jordan?” Lex questioned then whistled low at Trace’s confirmation.

  Trace grunted and motioned to Lex to give him another cigar. He lit the end with his other cigar and flicked it on the floor. Lex used his boot heel to snuff out the hot coals.

  Trace waved the cigar back and forth slowly, watching the light from the burning embers dance in front of his eyes. Thoughts of Madison’s flaming hair invaded Traces thoughts and he cursed. He stopped as Lex shook his head. “What?”

  “You got personal, didn’t you?”

  “No.”

 
“Dude, you can’t get personal on the job. You know the code,” Lex reminded him.

  “I know the code. I didn’t get personal.”

  “Yet. But you’re damn close aren’t you?”

  Trace didn’t reply. He took another drink and after a long drag from the cigar, he put it out inside the bottle. “I’m trying not to. It’s just so hard. She’s… incredible.”

  Lex cracked open one of Trace’s beers from Del and took a swig. “I’ve seen her. Damn fine looking woman.”

  Trace squelched the sting of jealousy. Lex had been his best friend for years. He trusted him completely. They would give their lives for each other so Trace would certainly trust Lex to be alone with his woman. With Madison.

  A cheer rose from a small crowd gathered around the bar. Trace glanced over to see bottles being clinked in toast and looked away.

  “So what’s her story?”

  “Jay called. He’s her business manager.”

  “Jay? That old goat. How’s he doin’? I haven’t seen him in years.”

  “Very well considering he represents Madison.”

  “That lucky bastard.”

  “Not so lucky right now. He’s convinced someone’s trying to kill Madison by acting out the movie she’s filming.”

  More cheers interrupted their conversation. Trace noticed Nate had joined in and returned his attention back to Lex.

  “That’s freaky. You sure about it?”

  “I wasn’t until a blade stabbed through her picture came with the pizza the other night.”

  “Was the blade familiar?”

  “No, not at all. Just a standard blade that can be picked up at any local store.”

  “Cops any help?”

  “Hell no. No one is, including her. Between her, her mother, Jay, the cook, the butler, the chauffer, the gardener, the pool boy… I’m up to my pierced ear in babysitting.”

  Lex whistled low again. “You got your work cut out for you.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  They were both silent for a moment before Lex spoke. “She really has a pool boy?”