Bodyguard (Hollywood A-List #2)

Over the next two weeks, I figured if I was going to be trapped in a cage, I could do a lot worse than Carter Kincaid. My life wasn’t my own, but I didn’t want for sexual satisfaction. He took care of my every need, held me close, talked and laughed with me in the night, tickled me, stroked me, sighed in my ear. He watched me as if he wanted to eat me alive, which seemed possible because I was alive. I didn’t realize how lonely I’d been until Carter found me.

The birds sang their improvisational jazz of notes, and the morning sun cut through the slit in the curtains. I reached for his pillow and buried my face in it. It smelled like a certain midsummer morning. Me on my bike telling Mommy I wanted to go to Darlene’s. She sent a cab for my friend instead, and we played on the block (no farther—do not cross the street by yourself) picking up dud bottle rockets that had flown over the roofs the night before. It was the memory of the fifth of July, when the air smelled of crackling fire and unexpected treasures, the scent of endless possibilities and Carter Kincaid.

When I got to the kitchen, he was laying out eggs, toast, and yogurt with the granola from the pantry. He held my chair out for me, then sat across the little breakfast table.

“Sunday morning suits you.” He flipped the Tapatío against the heel of his hand and unscrewed the cap. He liked his eggs spicy, so I’d stocked up on hot sauce.

“What does that mean?”

“Saying you look fucking gorgeous seems like I’m exaggerating—even if it’s true.”

I pressed the side of my fork into my egg. The yolk was wet, with a fold of gooiness in the center, but not enough to create a flow onto the whites.

“Perfect,” I said. “Again. I wish you’d let me watch you make them.”

“Then you’d know my secret.” He slid his fork into his mouth, and the gesture seemed so fluid and masculine I could barely swallow.

“I might just turn one of the cameras on you one of these mornings.”

“Good luck with that. What do you have planned for today?”

“Why?”

“I just spoke to Carlos. Fabian’s with Darlene. He’s got someone else to work with. So I’m going to coordinate with you.”

He was all business. I loved how seriously he took his job.

“Okay, first of all, does Fabian ever take a day off?”

“Nope. The thing is, I have something to do with Phin.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere today.”

He looked at me suspiciously. “Nothing?”

“Really. Go do your thing with Phin. If I want to go grocery shopping or something, I’ll do it when you get back. Or I’ll get delivery. Whatever.”

“I should be back by four.”

“That’s a long day.” I blurted it out before I thought it through. I sounded judgmental and, worse, I sounded like I was trying to get information out of him. “Sorry.”

He shook his head and waved away the apology.

“It’s a robotics tournament. I’ll be in a gym all day cheering for a robot to pick up a ball.”

“A big robot?”

“No. It’s on a table. They program the robots to push things and pick them up. It’s . . . We get all wound up like it’s a football game.”

“Without the concussions.”

He smiled over the rim of his cup, and for a moment I imagined us eating breakfast on any given morning, preparing for our day. Phin would chatter at us, and Brenda would insist I call her Brenda. I’d be sore from the previous night, and he’d make eyes at me across the table.

I imagined a life with people around me. People who loved me. Noise. Talking. Plans and preparations around each other. A life that buzzed with love.

I didn’t picture it as unsafe. I didn’t feel the lockdown. Didn’t make sure the imaginary doors were locked. The safety didn’t come from dead bolts, alarms, and closed-circuit monitors. The safety came from family.





CHAPTER 40





CARTER


Phin was in an unusually pensive mood, which suited me fine. I felt really good but didn’t want to tell him it was because I’d spent the night with Emily. I ran over everything I wanted to do with her body as we cruised over the 101. When my dick got hard, I thought about all the places I wanted to take her, all the ways I could make her laugh. I wished I could dance, because I would have shared that with her. But maybe I could pick her up again. Help her out with my ham hands and clunky feet. And once she’d had a ton of safety training, I’d get her her own pink Glock, and we’d hit targets together.

We were exiting the freeway when Phin shut the radio.

“Dad.”

“Yeah?”

“I got a D on my Africa project.”

“I know. That was two weeks ago.”

“So I need an A on the family tree project if I want a B on my report card.”

“Okay.”

“There’s a ton more stuff on your side and nothing on my mother’s side but a bunch of names.”

Crap. My happy buzz was shot down like a slow-flying clay pigeon.

“That’s all I got, kid.”

“What if I made it up? I could get pictures off the internet. I could add some places and a little anecdote or whatever. Who would know?”

I’d know. That’s who would know. I’d know that he lied because I’d have to tell lies. I’d know the man who was raising him had shown him the wrong way to live his life, and I couldn’t live with it.

“Make it as good as you can. They can’t dock you for having one parent.”

He twisted his lips into a puzzle-solving sulk. Something was cooking in his head, and it smelled like trouble.





CHAPTER 41





EMILY


I did everything there was to do in the house and ate lunch in the shade of my tree. I fed Grey some scraps, read a few chapters of a book, but realized I was bored by noon.

Darlene was at church. That was her Sunday thing, and it was absolutely nonnegotiable. Sunday was for worship. We didn’t go out, and I didn’t call her until dinnertime. I respected that, but I felt different this Sunday than any other. My night with Carter had supercharged me. I felt expansive, bursting with potential. As if I’d gotten great height on the jump but couldn’t fold into a somersault.

I figured I’d work on something. Some new steps. Whatever. I’d tire myself out, at the very least.

Then Simon called.

“Hey,” I said into the phone while I picked up my plate.

“Girl, I have nothing in my closet for Vegas.”

“You’re supposed to keep dance clothes in the drawer.”

“Don’t make me laugh; you’ll crack my foundation,” he said with faux seriousness.

“Did you see the schedule? There’s no time to do anything but work and sleep. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Vegas doesn’t sleep. And besides, I’m going the night before.”

“You better not be tired—”

“Stop it already. You’re hurting my ears.”

“Do not party the night before. Do. Not.”

“I’ll be fine. I have electrolytes. A Boy Scout is always prepared.”

“You were a Boy Scout?”

“Of course. But I left. The uniforms sagged with the pins and badges.”

“I can’t imagine it.”

Simon sighed with frustration. “I’ll just go to Nordstrom myself.”

I scraped my dish and put it in the dishwasher next to the ones Carter and I had used for breakfast.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because Darlene . . .” I stopped myself. Was this about Darlene’s paranoia? No. It was about the fact that her paranoia was justified. “Because it’s not safe for me to be out without a bodyguard right now.”

Simon let out a long groan. “Who’s going to tell me when I don’t look fabulous?”