by Shayla Black
“But I grew up with classical music,” she goes on. “My mother had anxiety issues, and that helped to calm her.”
“If you grew up in New York, where did you first hear country?”
“In grade school, I had a friend originally from Texas. Katie loved it, so I started listening to it with her. She moved away again a few years later, but my parents hated the ‘twangy’ stuff. So I kept listening. And”—she shrugs—“I just never stopped.”
Under her buttoned-up façade, she’s a bit of a rebel. That doesn’t surprise me, but I would have never guessed that little Miss Privileged was into songs about pickup trucks, breakups, and beer. “Is there even a country station on the island?”
“I haven’t been here long enough to find out.”
“When did you leave LA?” I ask, navigating the thin Sunday morning traffic back to the north side.
“Four days ago.”
She doesn’t say more, and the subject is closed. It’s for the best. We need to get down to business.
“Had you received death threats back in Cali?”
“Of course. More than one.”
Fuck. “Had anyone broken into your place?”
“They couldn’t. I lived in a high-security building. You can’t even operate the elevator without a card key. But I couldn’t stay in my apartment forever. And once Oliver started running a few weeks ago, he went stir crazy if I didn’t take him to the park at least once a day. But the minute I stepped out of my building, it was a zoo, especially right after Barclay was killed.”
So she’d exchanged security for distance, hoping she could have a life, and it hadn’t worked out? “Who killed him?”
“A former client named Paul Daniels.” She shakes her head. “I know what you’re thinking, and he isn’t the one threatening me now. Not only was he in jail, he died of cancer last month.”
“Do you have any idea who else might want to kill you? Do you know the name of anyone who’s threatened you?”
“No. Most threats came online.”
“Keyboard warriors are always brave when they’re hiding behind screen names.”
“A few more antagonistic people came to yell in my face. But the police never took any of them seriously. Most of the time they had no plan, no weapon… They decided ‘I’ll kill you’ was a figure of speech.”
That’s not a surprise, but since someone had tried to gut her last night? “I’m not. I’m taking this very seriously.”
“Thanks. I’m just sorry I don’t know anything.”
“If you remember anyone who threatened you more than once or followed you somewhere—anything sinister or scary—let me know.” I have a feeling someone fits that description, but with everything she’s been through in the last few hours, she can’t remember.
“Maybe it’s a former client of Barclay’s who lives on Maui and decided to take advantage of the situation while I’m here?”
“Did he have clients in Maui?”
“I don’t know.” She glances away, almost as if she doesn’t want to look me in the face. “We didn’t talk business much.”
I get the feeling they didn’t talk a lot in general, and she’s embarrassed by that. “How would anyone have known you were here in Maui? Did you put it on social media?”
She shakes her head. “I deactivated all my accounts when my relationship with Barclay became public after his arrest, and I didn’t tell anyone I was coming except my dad and my brother.”
And who knows if they told anyone else. I sigh as I pull up to Joe’s apartment building. It’s two stories, painted a garish turquoise blue, and sitting up on a hill surrounded by a retaining wall made of rock. The inside is even less special…except the nice view of the Pacific three blocks away.
“Who does this place belong to?”
“A friend’s dad. Let’s go.”
“I don’t want to wake Oliver.” She looks back at him. “He’s just fallen asleep.”
“I can’t leave you two outside while I pack, and I need you someplace safe where I can think. Pick him up and—” When she grimaces, I sigh. “What’s the problem?”
“He’s getting too big for me to wrangle out of his car seat without waking him.”
“You want me to do it?”
“Would you?”
If it will get her out of the parking lot, where any asshole with a gun could shoot her, and into a safer space, I don’t have much choice.
“I’ll try. No promises.” Especially since I know nothing about kids.
She eases out of the car, purse slung over her shoulder. “I appreciate the help.”
I nod—and try not to stare. Since I gave her three minutes to change before we left Nia’s place, Amanda isn’t wearing anything particularly interesting—a white T-shirt tied in a knot at her navel, a pair of faded cutoffs, a pink ball cap, and a matching pair of flip-flops. But it shows off the curve of her breasts, her small waist, and the long expanse of her tanned thighs. It shouldn’t be sexy…but she gives me another instant erection.
Jesus, as soon as I’m done guarding her body, I need to get laid.
Muttering a curse, I flip up the front seat of the two-door coupe, then unbuckle the sleeping boy from his seat. He barely stirs as I lift him against my chest. I have to admit, he weighs more than I expected. No wonder a little thing like her is having trouble.
“Follow me.”
She nods, then I head across the parking lot and down the east side of the building to Joe’s front door. Oliver smells like sunshine, grass, and Cheerios. It’s not altogether unpleasant. Then he flings an arm over my shoulder and turns his head until his nose is half-buried in my neck.
Okay, I admit it. He’s actually cute. But that’s another distraction I don’t need.
When we reach Joe’s door, I juggle the boy long enough to shove the key in the lock, then I wave Amanda inside, scan my surroundings once more, and shut the door. As I flip the deadbolt, her phone starts buzzing in her purse.
Easing Oliver onto the rumpled bed, I turn as she pulls the device free. “Who is it?”
Any chance her would-be killer is someone she knows? Someone now trying to track her down?
“My brother. I’m sure he’s worried.”
If he has any intention of coming around and mucking up my arrangements, it’s a no from me.
I gesture to her. “You can answer it, but you can’t tell him where you are. The fewer people who know, the better.”
She presses her lips together before she takes the call. “Hi, Stephen. Are you home from the hospital? How are Skye and the baby? Is she still spotting?” After a brief pause, she interrupts. “No. Stop. I’m fine. Oliver is fine.” Another pause. “That didn’t happen.” And another. “I wasn’t going to call you in the middle of the night when I knew you and Skye were at the ER. Nia and I are big girls. We handled it.”
I don’t know what he’s saying to her, but I can hear his deep voice and seeming agitation across the room.
“No. I’m not coming to stay with you. I refuse to put either of you at risk. Skye doesn’t need more problems right now, especially ones she didn’t create. She needs you to focus on her and the baby. I’ve got a bodyguard named Tanner. I’m with him. I’ll be fine.” Her brother spits something less than calm through the phone, and she rolls her eyes. “Why? I don’t see what good that will do.”
Amanda listens, now pacing from one side of the small studio apartment to the other, seemingly gearing up to defend herself again. What the hell? Doesn’t he think Amanda has been through enough?
Her family shit is none of your business.
After all, they have wealth. I’ll bet they have the connections to go with it. I know how ruthlessly people like that operate. I can’t afford to get tangled up in their strife.
“Fine.” She pries the phone from her ear and presses the mute button. “He wants to talk to you.”
That, I didn’t expect.
Reluctantly, I hold out my hand, hoping he ju
st has basic questions. “All right. Sit down. Relax. Water?”
The only other thing in Joe’s fridge is beer.
“No thanks.” She hands me the phone. “Just…he means well.”
If that’s true, why is she wringing her hands?
I unmute the phone. “Tanner Kirk here.”
“Who the fuck are you? Hours after she’s attacked, I finally find out. Someone should have called me. I’m her brother. I live on the island, but I’m finding out last? What the hell is going on?”
Yep, he’s pissed, but he’s obviously concerned, too. “I got a phone call a couple of hours ago from a mutual friend that your sister was the target of a gang bent on violence, and I agreed to help.” I don’t mention the intruder since I’m pretty sure nothing would keep him from coming if he knew. “I’ve done some bodyguarding in the past, and I’m a firearms instructor. I’ve agreed to teach Amanda how to shoot. I’ll be keeping her in a secure location. You can call her anytime you like, but I won’t disclose to anyone where we’re going.”
“I’m not sure who our supposed ‘mutual friend’ is, but I don’t know a damn thing about you, so no. You’re not keeping my sister’s location a secret from me. And you better not touch her, pal. She’s already been through a lot simply for the sin of losing her heart to the wrong asshole. She’s fragile and halfway broken. I’m warning you now… Don’t you dare fucking take advantage of her.”
Whoa. “I’m a professional, Mr. Lund. My job is to protect her body, not to ravish it or whatever.”
No matter how much I’d like to.
On the other side of the room, Amanda gapes, then storms back in my direction and sticks out her hand, lips pressed together mulishly.
“Your sister has something to say,” I drawl and hand the device back to her.
This ought to be entertaining.
“Knock it off, Stephen!” she hisses. “Tanner is trying to help me, and you’re being an ass.” She pauses to listen, then her eyes widen with fresh fury. “Stop acting like I can’t be trusted alone with a man. This is a very different situation than…well, you know.” Another breather where she’s presumably listening again. “What are you saying? That you think I spread my legs for every guy? One. That’s my ‘number.’ What’s yours, big brother?”
Is she saying she’s only ever had sex with Barclay Reed?
At Stephen’s reply, she grips the phone, jaw clenched. “Fine.” She looks my way. “How old are you?”
Why does it matter? “Thirty-eight.”
I’ll be thirty-nine in less than two months, but I doubt that factoid will make the conversation more productive.
“Thank you,” she says to me, then turns and speaks into the device again. “I’m sure you heard he’s not even forty, so take your judgmental crack about me being attracted to guys nearly Social Security eligible and shove it.”
She jerks her gaze away, but not before I see her cheeks turn red. And her eyes fill with tears.
That’s it. I don’t care what these people can do to me for sticking my nose in their family business. I’m going to tear this guy a new asshole.
I cross the room to her and hold out my hand. “Let me talk to your brother again.”
“It’s not your problem.”
“The minute I took this job, it became my problem.”
Her sigh sounds defeated. “It won’t change anything.”
The fuck it won’t. I motion with my fingers at her to give the device over. “Hand me the phone.”
With a shrug, she puts it in my hand. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The second the device makes contact with my palm, I point to the spot where she stands. “Stay here.” Then I plaster the device against my ear, head out to Joe’s balcony, then shut the door behind me as the warm Hawaiian breeze hits my face. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck is up with you, but your sister has been through a lot in the last few hours. If you actually care about her, you could try backing the hell off and—”
“My sister has been through a lot for the last two years, but she chose to get involved with Barclay Reed.”
Maybe so, but… “If you were so bent up about it, why didn’t you stop it?”
“Because I didn’t know it was going on until it was too late. I was based out of New York, and Amanda moved to LA. But even if I’d been there, I doubt I could have stopped her. She’d had a serious case of hero worship for that lying bastard since she was a teenager. She was so excited to work for him. When I found out about their affair, I wasn’t terribly surprised since she has daddy issues.”
“Do you think that just because she was attracted to someone older?”
“Why else would she have looked to a man old enough to be her father for approval and affection? Why else was she anxious when she didn’t hear from Reed frequently? Then again, he gave her more than one reason to feel insecure.” Before I can ask what he means, Stephen goes on. “But she has a son now, and it’s been almost two years since Reed dumped her. The time has come for some tough love. How else will she figure out why she looked to a womanizer Reed’s age so she can knock it the fuck off? You insisting on being alone with her isn’t going to help.”
God, he annoys me. “First, I’m not old enough to be her father. Second, I’m sure when she got involved with Reed she never imagined she’d be dealing with angry mobs threatening her life. And third, if she’s seeking something emotionally to find happiness, then who the hell are you to question what she needs? Clearly, Reed wasn’t the right guy, but just because you disapprove doesn’t make her wrong. I admit that I only met your sister a few hours ago, but I know she needs your support now, not your scorn. If you can’t manage that, then why don’t you fuck off while I help her solve this problem?”
“You know what? If you manage to make her problems disappear, I can almost guarantee she’ll develop a case of hero worship for you, too, and latch on tight. I don’t think you want that.” He pauses, and I can almost hear his thoughts turning. “Unless you’re already hot to fuck her.”
“If I am, you’re the last person I’ll admit that to. But even if Reed may have seen her as a piece of ass—”
“He saw every woman as a piece of ass. My sister is just one in a long line of executive assistants he knocked up.”
Did Amanda know that when she went to work for him? Surely not. Despite Stephen’s claims that his sister is looking for a daddy to save her, she seems to have plenty of gumption without a man in her life.
“Like Evan Cook’s mother?”
“She was one, yes. Reed had three illegitimate children—that we know of. We’re all betting there are more.”
“He sounds like a real peach, but I’m nothing like him. My job is to make sure your sister stays safe. Nothing is more important to me right now.”
“How is she paying you? She drained what little savings she had trying to pay lawyers and take care of Oliver.”
“Unless you’d like to pay me, I don’t think that’s any of your business. She and I will work it out.” Hopefully. I should be concerned that she might be broke, but right now I’m more annoyed that her brother won’t back off.
“So you haven’t talked money yet?” His tone suggests he doesn’t think I’m very smart for letting that slide.
“Getting her to a location where the crazy mob couldn’t find her was a tad more important in the moment. Or did you want me to stand out in the open with her where any murderer could end her while we worked out a payment plan?”
“Your sarcasm isn’t helpful.”
“Your assholery isn’t, either.”
He grunts, but that’s an improvement over the blow-up I expected. “I want to talk to my sister again.”
I turn to peek through the glass of the door to find Amanda staring out the window of the parking lot. She stands unmoving, brittle, chin lifted. Beautiful…but so damn sad. A tear rolls down her cheek.
Why does that fucking bother me?
“She’s not up
for that right now since you made her cry. Maybe when she’s done sobbing she’ll feel like talking to you, but—”
“She’s crying?” He huffs. “Fuck.”
“You were an absolute bastard. What did you expect?”
“I didn’t mean to upset her. It’s just… The last twenty-four hours have been a bitch. I’ve been worried I’m going to lose my unborn baby. Now I’m terrified for my little sister. I haven’t slept. I haven’t eaten. My anxiety level is…”
Huge, I get it. But he’s trying to excuse his behavior to me, and I’m not buying it. “You’ve got a lot going on. Worry about your wife. Make sure she keeps that baby. I’ll focus on Amanda. When we get settled, I’ll text you my number. You can contact me for status updates. But I’ve got this. I’ll neutralize the threat so she can live another day and figure out what she’s looking for in life and why.”
“And what if she decides she wants you to be her next ‘daddy’?”
We’re both adults, and that would be between us. “If you can keep your snark to yourself, you can talk to her. If not, fuck off.”
“You’re already taking care of her. You realize that, don’t you?”
I grimace because he’s right. This is the “overbearing” side of me that Ellie despised. “What’s it going to be?”
He sighs. “I want to talk to her one more time.”
“If she starts crying again, you’re done.”
“She’s already got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?” Stephen laughs. “Oh, buddy… You’re fucked.”
Chapter Three
I refuse to justify Stephen’s shit with a reply. Instead, I push the balcony door open. Amanda whirls to me.
“He wants to talk to you again.” I hold the phone in her direction. “Are you up for it?”
Reluctantly, she nods. Over the next few minutes, Amanda and her brother manage to have a mostly civil conversation. I do my best not to eavesdrop as I pack, but even if I can’t hear Stephen’s words, it’s impossible to miss his persuasive tone. She darts quick glances in my direction and answers in monosyllables.
