by Tara Wyatt
“Yeah. Always his own guys. I’m not living at home anymore, though, so I have a bit more freedom. I haven’t been doing a lot of public appearances lately, so I haven’t been using any security, and the few times I’ve needed a bodyguard in public, Ian’s worked for me.”
“He has?” Zack asked, frowning.
Sean nodded. “Yeah, a few times recently.” He tapped his mouth again. “Do you want to go to the police?”
The question caught her off guard, and she inhaled sharply. “I…” She forced air into her lungs, and a hint of dizziness teased her. She closed her eyes, exhaustion pulling at her. For the past several hours, she’d felt as though she’d been scrambling to keep up with what was happening around her, to make sense of it. “I don’t know.” She bit her lip and then admitted the ugly truth swirling through her. “He’s still my father. I can’t make any decisions tonight. I just can’t.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable, and she felt hot tears slip free and track down her cheeks.
“Shit, Alexa. I’m sorry. I know it’s been a long night. I’m just trying to figure out how best to help you.”
She sniffled and nodded heavily. “I know. I’m not—” She hiccupped inelegantly before continuing. “I’m not mad at you. I’m overwhelmed. And tired. And scared.” Everything was crashing in, and she didn’t have enough energy to process it.
Zack moved his hand from her knee to her back, rubbing soothing circles between her shoulder blades. “Deep breaths. We’ve got you. We’ll figure it out.”
She nodded and wiped at her eyes, trying to ignore the hot lurch in her stomach at Zack’s touch. “I don’t want to go home,” she said, her voice creaking and rusty. The idea of going home alone to her empty house only heightened her anxiety.
Zack started to speak, but Sean beat him to it. “Stay here tonight. You shouldn’t be alone right now. I need to think about what our best course of action is, and you need to figure out if you want to talk to the cops.” He pushed out of his chair and leaned forward against his desk. “For what it’s worth, I think you should, but you need to do what you’re comfortable with. Given who your father is, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that you’re under duress, fearing for your safety, which would protect you from any legal repercussions from not coming forward. Criminal or not, he’s your father, and I get how complicated that is. If you decide you do want to talk to the police, I have contacts at the LAPD. And whatever you decide, we’re not going to let anything happen to you.”
Zack’s hand slid up from her back to the nape of her neck, and with subtle pressure he turned her head to face him. A thrill shivered down her spine at the ease with which he could work her body, moving it the way he wanted with gentle control. But as much as that touch threatened to undo her, it was his expression—dark, determined, and fiercely hot—that had her heart unraveling and tangling.
He ground the words out, his voice low and dangerous. “Damn fucking straight.”
Chapter 5
Zack slammed first one fist, then another, into the heavy bag in front of him, sending it swaying on its metal chain. He flexed his hands, stretched his neck from side to side, and bounced on his feet a few times, warming up, fighting through the exhaustion clouding his focus. He’d barely slept last night, tossing and turning in his bed, the sheets tangled around him as he’d replayed everything Alexa had told him over and over again.
Replayed her words. How she’d felt in his arms. The fear in her eyes. The way she’d trembled slightly when he’d promised her he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. And he might not be a knight, but he kept his promises. He hadn’t wanted to leave last night, but he’d known she was safe at Sean and Sierra’s. And besides, what the hell could he have said or done? He didn’t even fully understand why her safety felt like his responsibility. It just was, and that wasn’t going to change. That much he knew.
Hands on his hips, he glanced around the gym, early-morning sunlight streaming in through the windows lining the far wall. Other fighters worked nearby bags, the slap of skin on leather blending with the hip-hop pumping through the gym’s speakers. Fluorescent lights gleamed against the polished hardwood floors, and a few more fighters walked by, crossing the room to the weights on the other side. A couple of others took up space in the center, jumping rope and chatting.
He adjusted his stance and started working the bag, alternating low and high kicks with jabs, hooks, elbows, and knee strikes. Slipping into the familiar rhythm, he focused on his form, picking up speed as blood flowed into his muscles. He kept working, moving around the bag, a single drop of sweat streaking down from his hairline and over his temple. Sufficiently warm, he dropped down to the ground and stretched out his legs in a side split, working his hips as close to the ground as possible.
“You ready to hit the cage?” Zack’s trainer, Oliver Jenkins, asked, a set of punching mitts already on his hands. The gym’s lights shone against his weathered dark skin, and he twitched his thick mustache, black with streaks of gray.
Zack eased up out of the stretch. “Let’s do it.” He followed Jenks into the cage and skipped around the perimeter, swinging his arms as he moved, a familiar anticipation buzzing through his blood. He met his trainer in the center of the octagon and circled around him, landing a series of quick jabs against the mitts before ducking under Jenks’s swing.
“Good. Again. Diaz is fast. You wanna win this weekend, you gotta be faster. Don’t give him time to get out of the way. Make sure you’re not hitching your shoulder before you throw. Don’t telegraph those jabs.”
Zack nodded as he absorbed the instruction and threw another series of punches, visualizing how Diaz would try to duck and weave out of the way and how he’d connect when Diaz least expected it.
How he’d win that championship belt. How he’d prove to everyone he was worth something. How he’d show the world he was more than a dumb, dyslexic jock. For Zack fighting was more than just an outlet or a distraction. It wasn’t about violence or being tough, or athletic, or whatever. No, it was about proving to himself that he could succeed at something. Sure, he was relatively successful at his job, but it wasn’t the same thing. Being a bodyguard wasn’t his passion. It didn’t fuel him the way fighting did. Fighting was about discipline, and hard work, and dedication. About being the best at something that made him proud, that made him feel alive. Plain and simple, mixed martial arts was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he was damn well going to pour everything he had into it.
He landed a kick against the pad covering Jenks’s torso, and as his shin made contact, he wondered how Alexa had fared last night. If she’d been able to sleep at all. If Sean had assigned someone to her and had figured out what their next step should be. He landed another kick, sending Jenks back a few steps, as he thought about how Mac had apparently been helping her out in the recent past. He wondered if Alexa had decided whether to go to the cops with what she’d heard. He was anxious to get eyes on her again, tension sparking through him.
Alexa. God. Even her name sent heat that had nothing to do with his training session flashing through his body. Heat, and protectiveness, and something more. A need to keep her safe, no matter what, but even need didn’t feel like a big enough word to describe what was churning through him.
Jenks’s punching mitt caught him upside the head, hard, and Zack took a step back, shaking off the hit.
“Hey! What the hell’s the matter with you?” Jenks tapped his mitts together, shooting Zack a look, and pointing at him. “Focus, De Luca.”
He pushed Alexa from his mind, and this, he reminded himself, was why he didn’t date. Why he couldn’t. Everything he’d worked for was right in front of him, and he was taking head shots because he was thinking about Alexa.
“Yeah, sorry,” he said, adjusting his stance and circling around Jenks again. Refocused, he landed another series of elbows and knees against the pads.
Jenks held up his mitts, bringing their training to a pause. “Whatever her na
me is, you’ve got bigger things than pussy to worry about.”
Anger flashed through Zack at his coach’s harsh, coarse words, and he ground his teeth together, his jaw tight. He didn’t like Jenks talking about Alexa that way. He forced a breath out through his nostrils. “It’s not like that. It’s work stuff.”
“Right. You and your damn day job.”
Zack shot him a smirk, his arms out at his sides. “Hey, if you’re offering to train me for free…”
Jenks laughed and shook his head. “Don’t get crazy now. You’re lucky you’ve got some good sponsorships starting to come in.”
Before he could respond, a pair of shin guards came flying up over the side of the cage, landing at Zack’s feet. “Don’t leave your shit everywhere, De Luca,” said Jamie, looking disgustingly fresh and chipper given how many beers he’d had last night. Zack crossed the octagon and leaned his forearms against the padded rail along the top of the cage.
“Didn’t think you’d be dragging your sorry ass in this morning.”
Jamie shrugged and dropped down onto a nearby bench, retrieving a pair of hand wraps from his gym bag. “What can I say? Hitting stuff cheers me up.” Both martial arts enthusiasts, Zack and Jamie had met when Zack started training at Take Down, more as a hobby than anything. But even when he’d been a relatively inexperienced twenty-two-year-old, Jenks had seen Zack’s potential and had encouraged him to get serious about his training. He had, and he’d spent three years dominating the Southern California amateur MMA circuit. He’d taken his first pro fight two years ago and had stepped up his training even more. Now, at the age of twenty-eight, he had a pro record of fourteen wins and two losses. Jamie had been the one to suggest he try to get hired as a bodyguard at Virtus Security—he had the skills and the experience despite not having gone to college, and it paid a hell of a lot better than bartending.
Zack opened his mouth, wanting to ask if Jamie had heard anything about Alexa, but shut it, not wanting to get into it in front of Jenks.
Jenks cleared his throat and stared him down. “If you ladies are done with your chat, we’ve got work to do.” When Zack returned to the center of the octagon, Jenks once again pointed his punching mitt at him. “Whatever it is, it’s messing with your focus. I can’t have that, not days out from the fight. Get your head in the game.” He tapped his temple. “Compartmentalize.”
Zack nodded, his anger ebbing. He knew Jenks was right. He’d trained too long and too hard for this opportunity to let it slip through his fingers because he was distracted. He should step back and leave Alexa’s protection to someone else on the team. He needed to stay focused on his training.
Easier said than done, considering he was already planning to head over to Sean’s as soon as his training session was over.
* * *
Alexa tugged on the T-shirt and jeans she’d borrowed from Sierra, then ran her fingers through the messy waves of her hair. The plain heather-gray T-shirt mostly fit, even if it was a little tight across her boobs. The jeans, however, were a different story. Given that Sierra was smaller than Alexa, they’d been a bit of a struggle. They fit, but barely, squeezing Alexa’s hips and butt. But at least she had clean clothes to wear, thanks to her friend. And really, she had much bigger problems than having to wear jeans that were slightly too small for her for an hour or two until she could get back to her place.
She glanced over at the unmade bed behind her, the sheets a rumpled, twisted mess. She’d had one of those nights when it felt as though she hadn’t slept at all, even though the night had passed too quickly for that to be true. Any sleep she’d caught had come in restless, fitful spurts, her mind whirling and spinning with what she’d heard the day before.
She pushed open the curtains, letting the morning sun into the room, and sank down onto the bed, the jeans digging into her skin. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to sort and organize everything in her mind.
Fact: her father had been involved in a murder, and had ordered another.
Fact: he didn’t know that she’d heard his admission.
Fact: if she didn’t go to the police, someone else might end up dead.
Fact: if she went to the police, she’d likely destroy her relationship with her family and put herself at risk.
Fact: she needed protection, and she very badly wanted that protection from Zack.
Over and over again last night, those thoughts had swirled through her mind, weaving a web of fear, confusion, anxiety, and guilt. She’d spent time crawling down each thread, poking and prodding at it. Her father. Her family. Going to the police, or not. And eventually—inevitably—Zack.
He was Taylor’s ex. He’d dated her friend, and according to the rules—of friendship, sisterhood, decency, whatever—he was off-limits. Not to mention that she was crazy for thinking he’d be interested in her. He’d chosen Taylor, not her. And if Taylor, with her brash humor, confident sexuality, and rock-star lifestyle, was the type of woman he was drawn to, it was clear Alexa wasn’t Zack’s type. She didn’t have a hope of competing with Taylor when it came to sex, considering she didn’t even like it. She needed to let this stupid crush go. It couldn’t happen—it wouldn’t happen, she corrected herself—for so many reasons.
Standing, she scooped her only remaining earring off the nightstand and dropped it into her purse. She’d lost the other one at some point last night, and in the turmoil of everything that had happened, she hadn’t noticed until she’d gone to take them off to go to bed. She also gathered her dress, tossing it over one arm, and began to descend the stairs, pausing when she saw the front door open. Zack and Sean stepped inside together, Sean in a suit and Zack in a T-shirt and sweatpants. She backed up a couple of steps, retreating out of sight. It was either that or run down the stairs and come to a skidding halt in front of Zack like a lovelorn puppy. She’d clung to him enough yesterday. Today she would be stronger.
“Alexa still here?” asked Zack, his voice echoing in the spacious foyer and vibrating through her. Her toes curled slightly at the sound of her name on his lips.
“Yeah. Upstairs, I think.”
“You talked to her yet this morning?”
“No, not yet. I went to check in at the office first thing. I was just coming back to see how she’s doing.”
“You left her alone?”
“No. Mac’s been here the whole time.”
Zack muttered something she couldn’t quite make out. Something that sounded a lot like “of fucking course.” There was a slight pause before Zack continued. “So listen. I’m glad I caught you, because I wanted to talk to you. About Alexa.”
“Yeah? What about her?”
Alexa’s heart skipped and fluttered in her chest, and she wasn’t sure if she should brace herself for what might be coming.
“I’m going to be up front with you. I’m torn, because I’ve got this big fight coming up, but…fuck, I can’t stop thinking about it. I want to help.”
“You have.”
“No, I mean…I know she’s worked with Mac. But I’m the one she confided in yesterday.” There was a possessive pride in his voice that sent happiness swirling through her. She hadn’t confided in him just because he’d happened to be the first person she’d seen at the party last night. No, she trusted him, pretty much unquestioningly. Trusted him and believed in his ability to protect her.
There was a slight pause before Zack continued. “I want to be lead on this.” Alexa suddenly found it a bit harder to breathe, and she pressed her fingers to her lips.
“You want to be Alexa’s bodyguard?”
Zack’s voice was steady and confident. “Yeah. I do.”
Something warmed inside her, hot and sweet and sticky, like honey and chocolate, relaxing the tension that had crept into her shoulders. She slumped back against the wall, and her heart felt too big for her chest, thumping away happily. She felt like a teenager who’d just overheard that the homecoming king had a thing for her. Or at least what she imagine
d that would feel like. She’d never actually set foot in a real high school, having earned her diploma through tutors hired by her family and the studios she’d worked for as a teen.
“Good. Because I have an idea, and I think it’ll work best with you,” said Sean.
“What?”
“I need to mull it over a bit more, but I’ll keep you posted. You want some coffee?” Footsteps echoing through the foyer, they retreated to the kitchen. Feeling foolish even as she did it, Alexa dashed back into the guest room, fluffed her hair, and slicked on a coat of lip gloss. It was the only makeup she had in her purse, so it’d have to do. The wand still in midair, she stilled, shaking her head and laughing at herself.
Zack wanted to help her. But it didn’t mean anything. He was only doing his job, maybe even feeling obligated because of the way she’d confided in him yesterday. She bounded down the stairs, unsure if she should admit she’d overheard their conversation or not.
“Morning,” she said as she stepped into the kitchen, and four sets of eyes turned toward her. Sean, Zack, Ian, and Sierra were in deep conversation. The scent of coffee and toast filled the air, and her stomach lurched slightly as her mouth went dry. Despite the fact that there were several other people in the kitchen, her eyes went immediately to Zack. He was so tall, nearly a foot taller than her, which likely put him at at least six foot three. His hair was wet, the thin cotton of his worn T-shirt stretched across his shoulders. Long, strong fingers curled around his coffee cup, and the corner of his mouth twitched up. She took a step forward, and his lips parted slightly, his eyes roaming slowly down her body, lingering on her breasts and then her hips. When his eyes returned to hold hers, his gaze had darkened slightly, and her entire body heated, warmth flooding her veins. She wondered if anyone saw her hands trembling slightly as she tugged the hem of the shirt down.
