The Trouble With Bodyguards: Part 1 (6 page)

              The sun was streaming through the filmy bedroom curtains when Alex opened her eyes. She groaned. Having been up late last night working, her body was heavy as she rolled over in the bed, pulling the pillow over her face to block out the horrid light. Fighting to regain the dream she had been having, something about a gorgeous man with arms the size of tree trunks, she closed her eyes and tried to will herself back to sleep. Her bladder was having none of it, screaming its urge to get the hell out of bed and get around to starting her day, its tasks to be taken care of first.

              She crawled out from under the covers, stomping in her bare feet out into the living room, headed for the toilet. Instinctually, she sat down, relieving herself, still half asleep, her eyes closed. Something was niggling at her subconscious, something important that she was supposed to remember. Something had changed.

              Alex opened her eyes and noticed the back of a man’s black t-shirt in her kitchen, standing in front of the sink, and she screamed.

              Rick spun around, ripping his gun from the holster on his waist, holding it at arm’s length, ready to rescue his charge from her attacker. He quickly scanned the room, seeing nothing, and turned his eyes to where he had heard her scream. She stood in the bathroom, frantically attempting to pull her panties up over her knees while still maintaining some sense of decency. Her hair was disheveled, hanging in a giant snarl down her back, and the thin white tank top that she wore didn’t do the job of covering her breasts. He could see right through it.

              “Why are you screaming?” he said, putting his gun back in the holster. He calmed his breathing, the adrenaline racing through his blood making his heart pound in his chest.

              “You’re in my kitchen,” she said, “and I was peeing!”

              “Perhaps you should close the door,” he said, laughing, “if you’re so modest.”

              “This,” she yelled, stomping through the room half naked, “is so not going to work!” She stood in the doorway to her room, hands on her hips, and turned to him. “I cannot deal with you living in my house.”

              “Take it up with your dear old daddy then,” he said, “because until he tells me otherwise, I’m right here to stay.” He glanced down at her body, barely covered by the flimsy tank and cotton panties, and grinned. “And I suggest that if you want to have a serious conversation about this, that you put on a robe. There is no way I can take you seriously like that.”

              Alex followed his gaze, looking down at herself. Her breasts were heavy, full, the nipples fully visible through the fabric of her tank top. She gasped, crossing her arms over her chest, and stormed into her room, kicking the door shut behind her.

              “Fuck!” she yelled, throwing herself back into her bed, pulling the pillow over her face. She could feel her cheeks flushing from embarrassment. A few days ago she would have been overjoyed to have a good-looking man in her apartment, gazing at her as she wandered through the apartment half naked, teasing him with her body. But not now, not this man, not like this.

              Her phone rang, drawing her attention away from her misery, and she flung the pillow to the floor, reaching to the bedside table and grabbing it. She peered at the tiny screen before answering. It was Stephen, her assistant. “Hey, Stephen,” she said, sitting up. “What’s up?”

              “Um,” he said, concern in his tone. “Are you still in bed?”

              “Sort of,” she said, “why?”

              “Because we have that meeting,” he hesitated, “with the Maybelline people, in like half an hour. I thought you’d be here by now.”

              “Oh fuck,” she said, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. She had slept in. “Fuck! I’ll be there,” she said, jumping out of bed and racing to the closet. “Try and stall them, I’ll be there as quickly as I can.” Tossing the phone onto the bed, Alex quickly flipped through her closet, pulling out her black slacks and blouse, the closest thing to a “professional” outfit that she could find in a hurry. She yanked her tank top over her head, dropping it to the floor, and stepped out of her panties. Standing naked in her room, she contemplated the time needed to shower and wash her hair. No time, she’d have to wing it.

              Dashing out of her room a few minutes later, buttoning her pants as she jogged to the bathroom, she collided with Rick, who was walking to the kitchen, a coffee cup in his hand. Steaming hot coffee spilled from the cup, dousing the front of his t-shirt and pants, splashing onto the front of Alex’s blouse.

              “Ow!” Alex yelled in pain, pulling her shirt away from her skin. “What the hell?”

              “What do you mean what the hell?” he yelled back, setting the cup down on the counter. “You’re the one who ran into me!”

              “You’ve been in my way ever since you got here!” she yelled. “I can’t even go to the fucking bathroom without you being there.”

              “Maybe if you would pay a little more attention,” he said, yelling, “I wouldn’t need to be here at all!”

              “Get the hell out of my way,” she said. “I’m late, and I don’t have time for your shit.”

              She stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She needed to get rid of him. He was driving her crazy, and it was only the first day. She had thought that she could find a way to deal with this, with having a glorified babysitter hanging around, to make her father feel more at ease, but this just was not going to work out. Running a brush through her hair, she pulled it into a tight knot on the back of her head, and put some mascara on her eyelashes. This would have to do. She just didn’t have time.

              He was standing in the kitchen when she came out, having changed into a white t-shirt while she was away. She paused, admiring the way that the shirt clung to him, silhouetting the powerful muscles of his chest and arms, the taut, flat stomach. Alex’s heart skipped a beat, and her libido stood up and demanded that she give it some attention.

              “You ready to go?” he asked, slipping his holster on over his t-shirt. This only had the effect of making him look threatening, dangerous, which in turn made him even more appealing.

              “Almost,” she said. “What are you going to do?”

              “I’m going to go with you,” he said.

              “You mean you’re going to follow me,” she said, stepping into her black sandals.

              “No,” he said, “I mean that I am going to go with you. After following you yesterday, and somehow magically both of us avoiding speeding tickets or jail time, I think that I will just drive you to your appointments.”

              “I am perfectly capable of driving myself,” she said, stuffing her cell phone into her bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

              “I have no doubt of that,” he said, opening the door for her. “And we can stand here arguing about it, and you can arrive even later to wherever it is that you’re late for, or we can just go.”

              Alex stood, frustrated, glaring at him for a moment, and then stormed past him and through the door into the stairwell. She didn’t have time for this, not today, not ever.

              He leaned back, settling into the soft leather of the chair in her office. Alex had been furious when he demanded to check her office before she headed into it, and she demanded that he wait for her in the car while she conducted her business. He had quelled that little fit, pointing out to her that he couldn’t be a very good bodyguard if he wasn’t there to protect her if anything should happen. He needed to be by her side, or at least in her air-conditioned office, instead of baking in the car all day with the windows rolled up like a damned schnauzer.

              He scanned the walls of her office, beautiful women looking down upon him from all angles. Full lips, ample breasts, and svelte waistlines graced every surface. Many of the images were daring, provocative, even pushing the boundaries into the offensive, but Rick liked them. They were powerful, drawing his attention to the detail, the skill put into creating each image. He must say, she was a snot-nosed brat, but she was good at what she did.

              His phone buzzed in his pocket, and a glance at the screen caused him to sigh. He really didn’t want this, not now.

              “Hello,” he said, standing up and walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, peering down at the people on the street several stories below.

              “I need to see you,” said the voice on the other end. “There are some things that we need to discuss.”

              “I am,” he said, hesitating, not sure of how much he should reveal, “busy today. There isn’t time.”

              “You’ll have to make time, Rick,” said the caller. “Come see me tomorrow, I have an opening at two o’clock. You remember where the office is?”

              “Yes, I remember,” Rick said, pressing the button to end the call. It hadn’t been long enough, since the last time he had been summoned by the doctors. They were afraid that he was not going to be able to control things, and eventually someone was going to get hurt, or killed. Medications hadn’t worked; even a stay in the ward had done no good. Rick felt that his strict vigilance was the only option. He had been expecting that call, but was hoping that it would be longer before it came. Now he needed to spend an hour convincing these men that he didn’t need them. And with the new task of keeping an eye on Alex, he truly did not have the time for this meeting. He would need to find a way to keep her safe, so that he could get away.

              “It’s been an honor meeting you,” said Alex, reaching out to grasp the hand of the fashion director of one of the country’s leading magazines. She had schmoozed these men and women for the last hour and a half, showing them recent photographs that she had done, and spreads that she had lain out in other magazines. They were impressed with her presentation, even though she had them waiting for twenty minutes after they arrived. She was granted the contract for an entire season’s advertisements, in three of the most prestigious magazines; it was a big win for her and her company.

              Stephan showed her guests to the elevator, and Alex strode down the long hallway to her office, her head held high with pride, a satisfied smile spread across her face.

              As she crossed the threshold to her office, the smile disappeared from her face, replaced by a scowl as she spotted Rick in her chair, his feet on the desktop, looking at something on his cell phone to entertain himself while she was gone. “Get out of my chair,” she said, walking over and shoving his feet off her desk. His boots made a loud clunk as they hit the floor, drawing the attention of the secretary sitting outside her office door. She smiled, batting her eyelashes, obviously having been admiring Alex’s visitor as he reclined in her office.

              “You have the best job ever,” she said, snarling at him as he stood and crossed to the other side of the room. “You get paid to hang out and play games on your phone.”

              “I get paid to make sure that you don’t get killed,” he said.

              “I’m not going to get killed,” she said, sliding into her chair. She scooped up a pile of paperwork on her desk, flipping through files, looking for the Maybelline paperwork Stephan said that he had put there this morning before she arrived. As she pulled the folder from the group, an envelope fell to the desktop, her name written in bold lettering on the front. No address, no postal mark, just her name written in a strong hand.

              She picked it up, curious, and sliced the envelope open with the letter opener that she kept on her desk. A single photograph slid to the desktop, and Alex’s blood ran cold as she picked it up and held it before her.

              “You look as though you’ve just seen your own tombstone,” said Rick, crossing the room to stand near her desk. “What is that?”

              “It’s a picture,” she said, “of me.” She turned it around, facing him. She was lying in bed, her body snuggled around a pillow, and the blankets cast off, as she was prone to do when sleeping, as she got too warm. She wore the tank top and tiny cotton panties from this morning, and her hair was piled up around her on the pillow. The bottom edge of the photo had been scrawled with three simple words, “I deserve you.”

              “Where did this come from?” Rick asked, plucking the picture out of her hand to examine it.

              “How the hell should I know?” she said, her voice cracking. “I’ve been in a meeting since I got here.”

              “I’ve been in here since you left,” he said, “and I didn’t see anyone come in. So it must have been here before we arrived. Who has access to your office?”

              “I don’t know,” she said, “everybody?”

              “You don’t lock the door when you’re not here?” he asked incredulously.

              “I take my camera equipment with me wherever I go,” she said, “and my computer is password protected. There’s nothing in here to steal other than a stapler, so why would I?”

              “So that some stalker can’t come in here and hang out, waiting for you to walk right into their arms,” he said, throwing up his hands. “You don’t lock your office, you walk around your apartment half naked with the curtains open, you take the stairs to your apartment, and you go to bars in the wrong part of town and try and pick up men that you don’t even know! It’s not a surprise that you have a stalker, the surprise is that you aren’t dead yet!”

              “Fuck you! You're making this seem like it's somehow my fault. I didn't ask for any of this,” Alex screamed, tears rolling down her face. She slumped in her chair, putting her hands over her face, blocking him out. She didn’t want him to see her break down like this; she prided herself on being a strong, independent woman. She didn’t need him to take care of her; she could take care of herself. But she didn’t know how to deal with this, with the pictures, with someone watching her. She wept into her palms, her body shaking with adrenaline.

              “Hey,” Rick said, walking around the desk to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get you home.”