by Ada Stone
“The hell it isn’t! That’s my little girl up there.”
A warm smile melted onto my face. Although I was most definitely not a little girl anymore, it felt nice to know he looked at me in that way. It was silly, but I knew that so long as he thought of me like that he would be there to protect and defend me until the very end. Which was why I was calling. “Um, Uncle Ryker?” I began hesitantly, not even sure how to go about this.
“What is it, princess?” Maybe he picked up on the hesitation in my voice, because his tone was suddenly alert, laced with what I was pretty sure was worry. “What’s wrong?”
I sucked in a steadying breath, then just went for it. “Last night, something happened. Something bad.”
“Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you? What happened? Why didn’t you call me last night?” His questions spilled like water as he asked one after the other, each one rapid fire and angrier than the last. I knew that I’d fucked up by not calling him last night—now he’d just be pissed that I’d waited so long. Call right after it happened or don’t call at all, that had always been the rule.
I winced, and waited for him to be done. When it seemed like he had no more questions for me, I finally started to explain. “First, I’m alright, really. It shook me up a bit, but I am physically unharmed. Second, I’m already home, so don’t worry about it. The gates are locked and I made sure that anyone who wants in has to get buzzed in. And Sylvia’s here for the whole day, so I’m not alone.”
I said all of this as quickly as possible so that he would calm down. I needed his help, I had decided, but that help would be so much more useful when he was calm and thinking clearly.
There was a moment where I only heard heavy breathing. I could tell that this meant that Ryker was trying to get himself calmed down and under control. Finally, he spoke again. “Alright, what happened, then?”
I told him the story, starting with the awards ceremony only because I needed to work up to what actually happened. I didn’t think I was really ready to talk about it, but he needed to know at this point, so I had to get to the bad stuff. I continued on, explaining that the after party was important to go to, even though I didn’t care much for the hostess.
“Bad stuff happens at those kinds of parties. You hear about it all of the time,” he grunted, clearly not thrilled with the thought of me attending. Even though I was most definitely a legal adult.
I rolled my eyes only because he couldn’t see me. “I know you don’t really like them, but they’re as much a part of my job as the acting is. I get work because of publicity. People want to see me. If I don’t show up to these things, they’re going to start saying I’m snooty or too good for them. And Carina is a terror, Uncle Ryker. You have no idea!” By the end I actually sounded like I was whining and felt childish for doing it, but it was true. Carina was trying her damnedest to ruin my career and I wouldn’t let her do it!
Not even if I was afraid.
“Alright, alright. I get it. It’s part of the job—but be more careful next time!”
I promptly promised that I would be incredibly cautious from here on out. It was impossible to say whether or not I truly meant that promise, but I was going to try anyway. I continued on with my story, skipping over the part where I’d forgotten my cell phone, because I knew that was going to cause problems. Instead, I told him that I had been jumped before I could get to it. Which really wasn’t that far off the mark.
Ryker was furious. “Who was he? What did you look like? Damnit, Raina, I need answers!”
“I’m sorry, I never got a look at his face,” I told him, feeling a sudden fresh spark of tears behind my eyes. I was trying to be clinical and detached, to keep myself from getting freaked out all over again by this asshole, but I couldn’t help it. He had jumped me, tried to drag me out of there.
I shuddered at what he might have done to me if that man hadn’t rescued me last night.
“It’s okay, princess,” Ryker told me soothingly, having evidently noticed my shift in mood. He was perceptive like that and I couldn’t help but love him all the more for it. “We’ll figure out who it is. Did you notice anything about him?”
I shook my head, which of course he couldn’t see, and sniffled. “No, I didn’t. I’m really sorry. But his car was black,” I offered. I knew it wasn’t going to do a damn bit of good, but it was all I had.
“Black?” Ryker asked keenly, immediately snapping up this lone, sad and pathetic piece of information. “Did you notice anything else about it?”
“No, not really. It was a four door and the—” I swallowed heavily, “—the backseat was leather.” I cringed and suddenly felt dirty all over again. How lucky had I been to get away? To be rescued?
I heard Ryker sucking in a harsh breath and knew he was on the verge of killing something. Quickly, I continued. “The rims were silver and stock, I think. Other than that, I really don’t know.” As I was telling him all I could remember about the completely unremarkable car, something finally occurred to me. “And you know what? He didn’t get in it.”
“What?”
I explained about how the man had come and saved me, then explained that he’d chased the guy off. My attacker had fled not to his car, but instead to the fence, hopping it and disappearing into the night. “Maybe the car’s still parked at Carina’s!” I said, both hopeful and excited.
“What’s her address?”
I rattled it off for him and said that I’d call as soon as I hung up to get the details.
“Don’t bother, princess. Let me handle this.”
I was on the verge of telling him that I didn’t need to be babied when I realized that I kind of did, at least when it came to all of this. It was nice to have his help and it made me feel better already to know that he was here and on my side.
It was almost enough to get me to come clean about everything else that had been going on. Almost. The weight of those terrible letters—and the phone calls—was pressing in on me daily. It made my smile strained, my shoulders tense. It meant that I was paranoid about things I had never been paranoid about before.
How many letters had I gotten from this psycho now? And sure, there was no proof that they were form the same guy who attacked me, but who else could they have been from?
I shuddered at the thought of him so close.
Your eyes are like bright stars hanging in the sky. They make me want to reach out and grab them, fold them up in my pocket, and carry them around with me forever.
The letters were all like that. They were worded almost as though they were love letters, just on the verge of being pretty enough to be sweet, but then he would always add something in that completely freaked me out. Stealing my eyes and keeping them in his pockets? How was that romantic?
I’d thought about going to the police, but…I just couldn’t do it. I thought I was overreacting. Now, I wasn’t so sure. But I knew that I couldn’t call the police if I was getting Ryker involved in all of this. He ran a mostly legitimate business, but though I never asked, I knew that he was also involved in drug dealing and other things that were most definitely not legal. I couldn’t risk him getting in trouble with the law because the police were digging around.
“Thank you, Uncle Ryker,” I finally said, chickening out before admitting that there were more incidents than just last night.
Maybe it was stupid of me, but I knew my uncle. If he caught wind of what was really going on, things would blow up. He’d go ballistic. And I would freak out over the phone. Just thinking of the letters and the awful phone calls made me want to throw up. How was I supposed to keep it together long enough to explain to him what was going on?
No, I couldn’t do it.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he told me fiercely. “I protect my own, and you are the best of what’s mine.”
I smiled a little at that. “I’m what you made me to be.”
He laughed at that. “Don’t be stupid, princess. You made yourself. Probabl
y despite me.”
“You say tomato…”
After that, I told him I had better go, that I had things I needed to take care of today, but before I could hang up, he stopped me.
“Wait a minute, there’s one more thing we need to discuss.”
“What’s that?”
“Your bodyguard.”
***
That afternoon found me lounging out in the sun wearing the bikini that would allow for me to get the most evenly spread and wide covering tan. It meant that I was about three triangles shy of naked, but I didn’t care. In the safety and comfort of my own home, I’d wear what I wanted.
Despite arguing with Uncle Ryker for the better part of twenty minutes about why I did not need a bodyguard, he assured me that one would be stopping by later today.
I was not thrilled.
The man was going to be staying with me! Although my uncle was a good-looking man, I knew that he was not the posterchild for all bikers. Most of them were dirty and kind of disgusting. They had no manners to speak of and I could only imagine what they smelled like. Ryker took care of himself. I didn’t have a lot of faith in the rest of his crew to do the same.
Unfortunately, once Ryker put his foot down, that was it. There was no way he’d renege on his promise to send me a bodyguard, one of his own, whether I liked it or not. And obviously I did not.
So now I was left to wait for whatever troll-like miscreant he decided to send me and hope that this all got resolved as quickly as possible.
A frown tugged at my full lips. Maybe I should have told Ryker the whole story. About the phone calls and the letters.
But it still made me sick to my stomach to even think about them. And if Ryker was freaking out now, I could only imagine what he would do if he discovered that I’d been receiving some very freaky correspondences from a “secret admirer.”
I was lost in my thoughts when Sylvia pushed open the large glass double doors that led from the back of the house to the pool where I was lounging. She was a pretty, petite thing and I always told her that she had movie star looks, but she insisted that she didn’t want to be an actress. Her parents had both been in the business—her father a philandering director and her mother a fly by night actress—and she had told me that they tried to get her into it as a child. Though she showed some mediocre talent that could have potentially been developed, she didn’t want the stress and the constant scrutiny that came with living her life constantly under a magnifying glass.
Most of the time I thought she was crazy, but lately I was beginning to think she had a point.
Sylvia worked for me as a “maid” but mostly I kept her around for a friend to gossip with, one who wasn’t going to turn around and run straight for the reporters the first chance she got. Sylvia was my closest friend and I loved her dearly. To me, she was family and the closest thing I’d ever gotten to a sister.
That didn’t stop me from shooting her a murderous glance as soon as I noticed that she wasn’t alone. There was a hulking shadow of a man following behind her and I knew without being told that he was the bodyguard that my uncle had sent along to protect me.
It made me instantly dislike him.
“Mr. Morrison, let me introduce my employer, Miss Raina Taylor.”
Steeling myself for the worst, I schooled my face into one of cool impassiveness. I wouldn’t let this man get under my skin, because I already knew his type. He’d be one of those men who thought he was god’s gift to women, like I couldn’t resist his charms by some twist of fate or the pheromones his unwashed body gave off. But I was around gorgeous men on a regular basis. My last boyfriend, Rodriguez, had been gorgeous. He was a Latin American male model and he was sculpted from that chiseled chin down to those perfectly shaped calves. His muscles made women around the world drool.
He’d also been an unfaithful, womanizing misogynist, but that wasn’t the point. I wasn’t dating him for his personality, but rather the eye candy effect. When it was clear that he was a little too wandering, to the point where my reputation had begun to suffer, I’d cut the cord and set him free. He’d called me a thousand times since then, but I didn’t bother returning any of them.
Most of my boyfriends had been like that. Gorgeous and sculpted like Greek gods, but every last one of them had been vainer than me—and I was a goddamned actress! Wasn’t I supposed to be the vain one?
Regardless, if I could resist the charms of the well-groomed, incredibly built male models of the world, then I was confident that I could handle the white trash appeal of a biker.
I thought all of this as I pulled down my large dark sunglasses to get a good look at the man who obediently followed Sylvia out onto the patio. Then those thoughts promptly fled as I saw the dark, smoldering eyes that were the only good memory I had of the night before.
Oh crap!
The man who had saved me last night, the one with the rippling muscles and the tight jeans and that dark hair that I wanted to rake my fingers through, that man was standing on my back patio staring at me with a deep hunger that I had a feeling originated between his well-muscled legs.
I froze, because it was the only way I could keep my cool. I hadn’t ever expected to see him again. He’d been a real ass last night, well, after the whole saving my life thing. I was hard pressed to remember why exactly in that moment, but I remembered my anger at him and my determination to not have anything to do with him.
That was the feeling I clung to now, desperately. I needed him to be just another asshole. Some guy I couldn’t care less about. Now I almost wished for one of those ugly, smelly, unwashed miscreants I’d been sure my uncle would send my way.
This guy? He didn’t meet any of that criteria.
Although he was still too far away to smell, I could tell just by the look of him that he was clean, if perhaps not well-groomed. His hair was thick and unruly, falling across his forehead to land in his dark, smoldering eyes. The shirt he wore was at least untorn this time and was dark enough to hide whatever grease stains he might have on it. His jeans, too, were a little better, though I could see wear and the promise of tears to come. They hugged his hips and thighs just as they had the night before, and I knew without seeing it that his ass looked just as good as it had when he’d walked away from me the night before. I had sudden, dirty desires where he was concerned and they startled me.
I wasn’t the type of girl to go for him or anyone like him. Yes, I loved my uncle dearly and would never say a word against him, but he lived and ruled in a world that I’d worked hard to get out of. Now that I was firmly in the lap of luxury, I was hesitant to do anything that might jeopardize that. Anything that might send me spiraling back down to the streets that I’d spent my young adult life on.
Ryker had taken good care of me, but we’d been dirt poor for a long time and he’d done some pretty shady deals while I was still a kid. He did his absolute best to keep me out of it, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew that when he sent me “to the park” with one of his guys, that meant I wasn’t supposed to see whatever was about to happen. I was grateful for the effort on all fronts, but I didn’t want to go back to any of that. Not even a little bit.
The memory of that was enough to push aside the strange yearning for him that was swirling around low in my stomach.
Letting out a bored sigh, I shoved the sunglasses back up on my face and said simply, “No.”
I didn’t glance over at them as I lay back down and pretended to close my eyes. Instead, I actually kept them open and out of the corner of my vision, I could see him—Mr. Morrison—glance at Sylvia for help. I could imagine her reaction. She wasn’t a stranger to my moods or my tantrums, though I did my best to keep them to a minimum. I didn’t need to be that kind of starlet, no matter how much money I had.
I just barely heard Sylvia whisper something to him, though I couldn’t make out what it was. Maybe explaining my temperament or maybe just telling him to be patient. Who knew? It didn’t matter to me. I didn’t want him
here. Not as a bodyguard—or anything else. And I’d be happy to tell Ryker as much as soon as this asshole was out of my house and off my property.
“No?” This was Mr. Morrison.
I didn’t answer, pretending not to have heard him. The next time he spoke, he was much closer.
“Hey, quit being a diva and answer me. What do you mean no?”
I didn’t move, though I felt my cheeks redden at the diva comment. Anger flared inside me, but I shoved it down. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me. Letting out another sigh, I told him, “No as in not you. Is that clear enough, Neanderthal, or should I try and grunt it?”
By this point I’d caved and was now looking at him, trying to fix him with a piercing glare. Instead, I admitted only to myself that I was checking him out. My eyes, still carefully covered by my glasses, raked down his body, devouring the sight of his muscles beneath the shirt that clutched at them as desperately as I wanted to.